We had a little celebration the other day. Champagne from a little vintner in France, prosciutto wrapped melon, cardona cheese and crackers, apple slices. Funny how a fine champagne is infinitely better than an average one.
This was exquisite, one of the best bottles I have ever enjoyed, and of course it tastes better shared, wine always does. But the best fun with champagne is finding value, a bottle that drinks so much better than the cost. It’s like finding treasure.
Finances are a bit like that. Most of us need to choose what we value. Chase everything, and we end up with debt. But if we focus and are willing to delay gratification we can pursue our passions.
May you choose and chase your dreams.
As we pulled away from the mountain I glanced into the meadow and saw these horses moving with alacrity to the corral.
A minute later I saw why the hurry.
Maybe horses are like dreams, sometimes they wander aimlessly, and sometimes we herd them.
Books have always been in my life. Read the rest of this entry »
When I was young I used to dream of running away and joining the circus. Read the rest of this entry »
a triplet…can you find the third haiku? Read the rest of this entry »
When life grinds you down, and your heart is heavy…
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Let go of dreams that cannot be
Which I hold dear yet others see
as vines that fruit will never yield
no matter how I tend this field.
What is a man when dreams expire
With love and life lived sans desire?
Tell me the measure of my soul
Without this piece, shall I be whole?
Can ideas exist without a word
Are thought and action both absurd
Must we like marionettes dance and sway
exist moment to moment, day to day?
Where does a man find dreams to seize
heart to love and woman to please?
My arms reach out to draw you near
boy be a man, look in the mirror.
Let no more days just pass me by
banish epitaph “He didn’t try”
Each day so precious let it seem
another chance to live a dream.
Sometimes we lose our way, perhaps we can dream our way out of it.
Sometimes sleep eludes me. My body and these chemicals may be still dancing their awkward uncomfortable dance. I roll on my side and close my eyes and move into that fugue of waking sleep. Always I am in a granite canyon, where the brown hard igneous rock is broken by the sparkle of crystal embedded deeply within the fabric, the very soul of the stone.
It is a beautiful place, but I am very lonely.
There are no stars or moon, yet I see. Like one of Michaelangelo’s prisoners it is there. Straining with heart, and soul, and mind to break free of the imprisoning stone. I see its dragon eye, redder than a ruby with its pupil of darkest onyx. I am not afraid, but I know should it escape I will have to face it.
I roll on my side, shifting the blanket to ward a draft. I wonder if my memory is addled, and I have written this post over and over. Sleep doesn’t come, I rise and prepare for work.