"You can feel as wretched as you like and you're still be a good candidate for enlightenment. You can feel like the world's most hopeless basketcase, but that feeling is your wealth, not something to be thrown out or improved upon. There's a richness to all of the smell stuff that we so dislike and so little desire. The delightful things - what we love so dearly about ourselves - the places in which we feel some - some sense of pride or inspiration - these also are our wealth. ~ Pema Chodron"
How much of my self I have buried in an island of self, this I can barely fathom. I need to breath, a true breath of bursting release from this tight dark dank drum of enclosure I have built for a season. Forgetting entirely about that light that flickers gently inside, I gave my entire being, mind, body and soul to the riddle of the mundane, shunning any form, any semblance of my true self. I miss my poetry. I miss my photography. I miss painting. I miss the company of my imagination, - a world where everything I see is a refraction of reality. This has kept me sane. And I am losing it.
Tomorrow, I shall take a walk. An early morning walk. I will smell grass and cut grass and touch soil. Before I even do anything, I shall light a candle of thankfulness and offer it to that altar in my heart where all inspiration and hope and love resides.