Thought I’d post a couple of quick musings I had recently. Many of my posts are lengthy, so sometimes it’s refreshing to have something a little lighter on linguistic calories to read.
To Sleep, Perchance To Dream
I dislike waking from strange dreams, worse, being forced awake before the subconscious can bring its own subtle closure to them. It sets a tone for the morning that’s like a gnat buzzing around your ear, or one person slightly out of sync in a marching band; there’s no danger to either yet both are irritating as hell.
I believe that, in some fashion, the heart quietly infuses itself into our dreams. It’s trying to speak to us in a way we can potentially understand. But logic—the waking mind—is overpowering in its capacity to ignore it. The conscious mind has too many other life-critical duties to perform to concern itself with the flotsam of the emotional self. So it busies the body and brain with all the activities we exert ourselves to accomplish.
Such dereliction of our passionate selves can be much to our disservice. This willful neglect to nurture our bodice of feeling dulls the colors we see outside. A seed may never reach its full potential unless attentively cared for from germination to the ripening and harvest of its fruit.
How tragic to come away with a basket half full with immature fruit.
How persistently grievous our turn of a deaf ear to the sleepy cries of the heart.
Nestled In Between
I don’t typically rise in the morning with a list of concerns, or my head heavy with the burdens of an approaching day. That’s not to say it takes long. But I try to allow myself to steep in those initial moments of waking, to absorb the quiet and let the soft machine slowly come on-line.
I like listening to the news on the way in to work—not that it fills me to overflowing with rainbows and smiles. I just like to have a grasp on what kind of stupidity and general lack of accountability is going on in the world.
A recent story has been the focus on Greece’s austerity program. Seems the populace is torqued because a lot of pencil pushers will be fired. A few less do-nothing neckties and white collars should be good for a country. Apparently not for Greece. Following that logic we’d be almost completely without a Congress.
It comes as no surprise, then, to understand why the sun slips quietly into its clothes of dawn and colorfully hands the watch over to the moon at dusk. Day has a lot on his plate . . . Night provides the escape we need.
Dream on, Sol. I’ll be there with you if you want company.
Gossamer thin, so much so that it’s almost invisible to the eye. It might be as playful as a dandelion in a breeze or as heavy as an ocean liner’s anchor. It lives with each breath you take, and dies a little each time you surrender to its lesser half.
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