fear
Again, the king, staring out his window, seeing what he can see. Little wisps of the first pollinations of spring whirling in the air, and the first hint of green bespeaks a hope that most will never experience. The bushes are just turning verdant and the bring is seeming more and more red each day, and less of the dull brown of dead wintry afternoons. All of life is a metaphor if you just let it be.
Today we are going to discuss these metaphors. Rather, I will rant and tirade and diverge among my own thoughts, and you, faithful reader, will continue to follow my lead, seeing only what I allow you to see...and feeling what I allow you to feel. You, perhaps think that's egoist. You couldn't be more wrong. It's simply honest. You only know what's in my heart if I tell you. You only know what's in my psyche if I let you analyze me. You only feel for me what I return, or give. It's not just me. It's everyone. We -only- know what others let us know.
But I digress, an unhappy habit, but at least it's not biting my nails.
The time just between Winter and Spring, when it's not warm enough for shorts, but too warm for a coat, is the lustful eagerness that the budding adolescent finds with every new swaggering hopeful that passes. That fluttering warmth and silence that comes just before full bloom of true love. Its the flitting of your heart that you never really want to show the object of it's palpitations. You don't want her to know how excited you are. You don't want him to know that you eagerly await a simple word from his lips. What silly creatures we are. Why don't we just express ourselves fully and honestly and stop the clandestine operations? We're not all CIA, dear readers, and some of us never want to be.
What of the honest man (or woman...please forgive my use of the masculine pronoun)? What of him? Consider this: You don't want the truth because it terrifies you. And thus we return to fear. The Enemy of all things good and glorious. Fear. I'm not talking the good fear of a raging inferno...or the fear that keeps you back from the cliff. I'm talking about fear of the unknown. Fear of the future. And most of us are so embroiled in it, that we cannot see beyond our own terror and wouldn't, even if we were given the chance.
Think of it a moment, constant reader, think of it: a life without fear. No fear of rejection. No fear of disappointment. No fear of failing. Wouldn't that be wonderful and serene?
There are people out there from whom you have nothing to fear. Trust me, there are.
Come meet us sometime.
Current Mood: inspired
Current Music: "Seven Cities" by Solarstone
Again, the king, staring out his window, seeing what he can see. Little wisps of the first pollinations of spring whirling in the air, and the first hint of green bespeaks a hope that most will never experience. The bushes are just turning verdant and the bring is seeming more and more red each day, and less of the dull brown of dead wintry afternoons. All of life is a metaphor if you just let it be.
Today we are going to discuss these metaphors. Rather, I will rant and tirade and diverge among my own thoughts, and you, faithful reader, will continue to follow my lead, seeing only what I allow you to see...and feeling what I allow you to feel. You, perhaps think that's egoist. You couldn't be more wrong. It's simply honest. You only know what's in my heart if I tell you. You only know what's in my psyche if I let you analyze me. You only feel for me what I return, or give. It's not just me. It's everyone. We -only- know what others let us know.
But I digress, an unhappy habit, but at least it's not biting my nails.
The time just between Winter and Spring, when it's not warm enough for shorts, but too warm for a coat, is the lustful eagerness that the budding adolescent finds with every new swaggering hopeful that passes. That fluttering warmth and silence that comes just before full bloom of true love. Its the flitting of your heart that you never really want to show the object of it's palpitations. You don't want her to know how excited you are. You don't want him to know that you eagerly await a simple word from his lips. What silly creatures we are. Why don't we just express ourselves fully and honestly and stop the clandestine operations? We're not all CIA, dear readers, and some of us never want to be.
What of the honest man (or woman...please forgive my use of the masculine pronoun)? What of him? Consider this: You don't want the truth because it terrifies you. And thus we return to fear. The Enemy of all things good and glorious. Fear. I'm not talking the good fear of a raging inferno...or the fear that keeps you back from the cliff. I'm talking about fear of the unknown. Fear of the future. And most of us are so embroiled in it, that we cannot see beyond our own terror and wouldn't, even if we were given the chance.
Think of it a moment, constant reader, think of it: a life without fear. No fear of rejection. No fear of disappointment. No fear of failing. Wouldn't that be wonderful and serene?
There are people out there from whom you have nothing to fear. Trust me, there are.
Come meet us sometime.
Current Mood: inspired
Current Music: "Seven Cities" by Solarstone
editted to say thats a good thing
[Edited on Mar 26, 2004 4:18PM]