I don't know. Doesn't have to make sense. That was my motto when I began this incredible journey that has twisted and turned and dove underneath the ground and skyrocketed up into the clouds and hovered like a bee in midair.
It doesn't have to make any sense at all. I don't care if it makes sense to anybody else either. I have at least, if nothing else, come to the conclusion that we are forever linked and yet, isolated.
You can not think for me and you can not feel for me and you can not answer for me, nor can you find my solutions. But, you can walk with me and talk with me and hug my sagging shoulders and dance with me, swinging my body as I swing yours around and around and around.
So, on with the part that doesn't have to make sense .... I stopped at the grocery store tonight on my way home and bought myself a small bouquet of miniature peach colored roses and bright yellow gerbera daisies. I bought 3 gerbera daisies. They are my all time favorites.
They're my favorites not because their aroma is heavenly, like the gardenias that grow in the south, not because they are anything but bold. They are my favorites because they are breathtakingly bold! They scream with enthusiasm and they reach into your quiet mind and demand admiration!!!! That's why they're my favorites. Because they march across the room and grab your hand and force you to dance with them in a crazy dance that makes your head spin and causes you to eventually fall on the floor not caring who saw you or what they think of you.
Gerbera daisies are just bold! And I bought three of them and tossed those bold things in a mutual vase with quiet demure miniature roses that simply blushed.
And for tonight, that seemed to be just the most perfect thing in the whole world.
This past Sunday the minister of the church said ..... "You can read a million books and you can listen to all the scholars in the world, but the truth of it all is this ... life is for you to discover. And your journey is just yours, all yours."
I have many books in my home from many honorable and amazing people that have mostly all died. I read their words and want their thoughts to come into my life and wrap around and around and around me like a clinging vine in a thick dense jungle. I invite them to come and soothe me. They mostly flirt with me though. And they tease me to dig a hole in some fertile ground and begin a vine of my own.
Sometimes when I scrape the ground it's like cement. Other times it oozes with much too much water and not nearly enough dirt. And sometimes it just looks baren to me.
So, when it looks this baren I have to stop at the grocery store and buy 3 bright yellow gerbera daisies and join them with quiet shy blushing peach miniature roses. When I wake up in the morning, that will be the first place I will go and I hope it's a good day.
I guess that's all there is sometimes.
March 2, 04
