I have time.
I have Time wasters.
I won't list them, it would be a waste of time.
Well I will write about;
obsession,
compulsion
thru passion, passion, passion.
If I spent every hour away from work, writing, would it be any better, my life?
Or my writing?
I stumble thru stumbleupon.
I follow the nhl and nba; on tv and internet.
I got to wgt and golf from the comfort of my own home.
They are all; both an obsession and compulsion. I check e-mail, but it is neither an obsession nor a compulsion.
If I wrote when wrote; 1 hour in the morning and 2 hours in the evening and a block of hours on Saturday and a block of hours Sunday and a block of hours on Holidays. What would the result be? How many words a week would I get on paper. how much passion would flow in the form of ink, on paper, how much joy would I get or better give to those who would take the time to read?
We need to, I need to be passionate about 1 thing in our lives. I am all for God. that goes beyond passion, that leads to eternity. I am, I need, I want to be passionate about writing, I have so many projects to write, print, type, edit, short stories, poems, a biography, a series.
My passion goes as far as bring the laughter, bring the tears, bring the inspiration and give glory to God. What do we spend our time at? Why not our passions, whether that be helping the poor, saving the world? So much more. So...be passionate and spend your time there. That place where creativity meets positivity meets that vibrant fury which causes your pulse to beat its first beat and then increase as you "recognize" what your passion is and know you will never, ever..... let it go.
Be inspired.
There can be found colour,
there is a monochromatic tone, there is fire and ice and of course confidence, so stand and deliver, give it until you run out and recharge, then you can run on again passionately.
Share what you have done, receive what others have done. Embrace their enthusiasm and let it fuel yours.
DISCLAIMER: Independent practice of passion seeking may disrupt family life, so communication lines must be solid, love felt all around, share, care and once in a while take a day off from everything but your family. Lastly, for-mostly, God first and all else falls in to place. Don't waste time thinking about just, do it.
No this blog was not brought you by that sports gear shoe company.
Sunday, March 27, 2011
Thursday, March 24, 2011
Beauty..... is moss green even in the forgotten
I walk to work everyday. A blessing. I pass this trailer court. Everyone in there has seen better days. All the trailers were new. Alonnnng time ago. Please try seeing from this perspective.
The first thing you see is green. The green reflects in the suns rise and becomes luminescent.
The green is moss. The moss is eveywhere. The moss is beautiful. Beauty is everywhere.
It does not look the same in the dark. Nor in the shadows, it only looks bleak and rundown. There are out buildings(I'll take a photo and post it one sunny day) These out-buildings belong to one of the mobile homes, the one closest to the road, near where I live. It is part of a trailer park. The sign, by the road, says so.
I wonder if it is moss thru neglect? Or maybe it is meant to be, they, the owners like their simple garden of moss. It covers the rooftops of the four out-buildings. Only in late winter does the sun even get close to breaking thru the branches and limbs of the surrounding trees. It is guarded like a national treasure. There is a 6 1/2 foot fence and a fierce barking dog. There is a tall aluminum ladder up against the tree on the left. To the right of the tree with the ladder is a building that catches my eye. The moss covered roof has a guard owl on it. I can not see what he is watching over.
Maybe a more private space, secluded from all the traffic that goes by. The owl is watching over a set of antlers, A trophy to human conquest over some poor 12 point buck? Are they even real? Then there is a taller tree - no ladder - this time just a tree house. The roof of the tree house is moss covered too. Not built for kids? Looks well built and secure. How do they get up there? Ah yes the ladder on the first tree! It is not big enough for more than one person. Is it a decoration or maybe many years ago there were children that played up off the ground. Guilded in green moss even back then. The moss is not evenly distributed. There are thick clumps and thin patches; even though it is everywhere.
The shortest moss covered building is closest to the fence. It has and octagon roof shape with all the ridge-lines, moss masked. Then there is the last one taller yet, the second shortest. What, is inside these buildings? They are not very big, they are not the same size or height, they are not even all on the ground. Do they hide a secret garden? Are they barriers to the sights and sounds of the busy boulevard? What if all the noise that wheels bring was to stop.......
It is the moss in the sunshine, that caught my eye; as I was walking, to work, passing by.
Moss so green, so alive, beside, a street so mean, peace and quiet so contrived.
Now bed me down on moss covered streets , where trees rest on undisturbed paths,
Where rays of light stream within borders, of a misty morning, rested and afresh from
silent dreams.
What was once black-grey ashphalt, is now green and softened, no longer harsh and cracked,
Life moves slower, sleepier, paced by the green moss, a living carpet, to let your dreams take root.
The first thing you see is green. The green reflects in the suns rise and becomes luminescent.
The green is moss. The moss is eveywhere. The moss is beautiful. Beauty is everywhere.
It does not look the same in the dark. Nor in the shadows, it only looks bleak and rundown. There are out buildings(I'll take a photo and post it one sunny day) These out-buildings belong to one of the mobile homes, the one closest to the road, near where I live. It is part of a trailer park. The sign, by the road, says so.
I wonder if it is moss thru neglect? Or maybe it is meant to be, they, the owners like their simple garden of moss. It covers the rooftops of the four out-buildings. Only in late winter does the sun even get close to breaking thru the branches and limbs of the surrounding trees. It is guarded like a national treasure. There is a 6 1/2 foot fence and a fierce barking dog. There is a tall aluminum ladder up against the tree on the left. To the right of the tree with the ladder is a building that catches my eye. The moss covered roof has a guard owl on it. I can not see what he is watching over.
Maybe a more private space, secluded from all the traffic that goes by. The owl is watching over a set of antlers, A trophy to human conquest over some poor 12 point buck? Are they even real? Then there is a taller tree - no ladder - this time just a tree house. The roof of the tree house is moss covered too. Not built for kids? Looks well built and secure. How do they get up there? Ah yes the ladder on the first tree! It is not big enough for more than one person. Is it a decoration or maybe many years ago there were children that played up off the ground. Guilded in green moss even back then. The moss is not evenly distributed. There are thick clumps and thin patches; even though it is everywhere.
The shortest moss covered building is closest to the fence. It has and octagon roof shape with all the ridge-lines, moss masked. Then there is the last one taller yet, the second shortest. What, is inside these buildings? They are not very big, they are not the same size or height, they are not even all on the ground. Do they hide a secret garden? Are they barriers to the sights and sounds of the busy boulevard? What if all the noise that wheels bring was to stop.......
It is the moss in the sunshine, that caught my eye; as I was walking, to work, passing by.
Moss so green, so alive, beside, a street so mean, peace and quiet so contrived.
Now bed me down on moss covered streets , where trees rest on undisturbed paths,
Where rays of light stream within borders, of a misty morning, rested and afresh from
silent dreams.
What was once black-grey ashphalt, is now green and softened, no longer harsh and cracked,
Life moves slower, sleepier, paced by the green moss, a living carpet, to let your dreams take root.
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