The body, it crumbles,
Grace and vigor depart,
There is now a stone
Where I once had a heart.
This was part of a longer poem written by a lady in a nursing home to her nurses that treated her like she was just a thing in the bed. When I get to were I have no family left I hope I get struck by a truck so I don't ever have to live in a nursing home. The above passage was my favorite part - especially the last two lines. That's how I feel most of the time.
I struggle with what to write here most of the time. I have gotten several hardcopy journals in the past and they for the most part remain untouched. Even when I went on a trip last year to Panama - I still could not formulate anything on paper that was worth reading - remembering. I took tons of pictures and will someday do something with them.
I think some of it is I would be afraid of what I wrote about myself, my life. What causes us to get to the point we are at? Is it all by chance, are we driven by "destiny", is it all part of a plan that was laid out thousands of years ago? Do we come back until we get life right what constitutes getting it right? Is there a supreme being?
When I was younger I used to think we all just a part of some giants dream. That everyone was a part of another's dream and that somehow we overlap. When people would die or disappear meant that a giant either woke up or stopped dreaming because he/she was part of someone elses dream. Why giants - it was my ability to rationalize the time differentials from his slumber to our entire lifes.
Not sure when I gave up the idea that I was just a part of some giants dream or have I?
Grace and vigor depart,
There is now a stone
Where I once had a heart.
This was part of a longer poem written by a lady in a nursing home to her nurses that treated her like she was just a thing in the bed. When I get to were I have no family left I hope I get struck by a truck so I don't ever have to live in a nursing home. The above passage was my favorite part - especially the last two lines. That's how I feel most of the time.
I struggle with what to write here most of the time. I have gotten several hardcopy journals in the past and they for the most part remain untouched. Even when I went on a trip last year to Panama - I still could not formulate anything on paper that was worth reading - remembering. I took tons of pictures and will someday do something with them.
I think some of it is I would be afraid of what I wrote about myself, my life. What causes us to get to the point we are at? Is it all by chance, are we driven by "destiny", is it all part of a plan that was laid out thousands of years ago? Do we come back until we get life right what constitutes getting it right? Is there a supreme being?
When I was younger I used to think we all just a part of some giants dream. That everyone was a part of another's dream and that somehow we overlap. When people would die or disappear meant that a giant either woke up or stopped dreaming because he/she was part of someone elses dream. Why giants - it was my ability to rationalize the time differentials from his slumber to our entire lifes.
Not sure when I gave up the idea that I was just a part of some giants dream or have I?
Now it's been pushed up to 35.
I'm thinking when I'm 30, it'll be up to 55.
xip