11 July 2009

It's like this for me

heh - funny way to start..., but I've always been secure in my masculinity (you needn't ask why, but it has something to do with art), and so talk of feelings and joy of flowers and plants, in general, have never been unfamiliar to me.

The herd of squirrels in my head is fairly active this morning...

I'd prefer not to imbibe in navel gazing, but gee, it's so fun. I fell in LOVE with the hibiscus bloom a while back when we were in Maui. Before that time I hadn't realized that most blooms only have one chance to do their thing. Most friends say that I'm an unusually observant person - to the point of discomfort sometimes. And I also look for similarities and trends much more often than something that is unique, or, at least, distinct. I LOVE to oversimplify because it pulls me away from my natural tendency to over think. There are things in the rest of nature (outside your head) that are very much like you and "false" personification is another of my processes.

There is an inner drive to bloom in each of us, but we are also painfully aware of our and others' mortality. Sometimes bugs will nibble on our blooms, but it shouldn't keep us from striving to complete the bloom. Once it's done - it's done and there's no going back, perhaps, a subtle reminder of our ultimate path.

In our community there are several of us trying to bloom and it's delightful when we can bloom at the same time. Usually, there are many more striving to grow and become whatever than those who are in their peak. Dang those nibbling bugs. Wouldn't it be so good if there was always a bug predator or another protective bloom that could defeat the bugs whenever they came around? Alas, there rarely is.

When I was up in the middle of the night there came an email from a friend who reads tweets, but doesn't tweet, yet (do you have as many of those types as I do?). The primary question was whether my meds were working out okay. Actually, I only took them for a few days back in June, and quit as soon as I realized that they just killed any feeling that I had whatsoever. Of course, I spoke with my doctor friend beforehand, and decided that I'd much rather live with severe anguish than never experience extreme joy and know it was real - this under the heading that I was never any real danger to myself....

A moment in life only occurs once for each of us. You may go on a family trip to the same place every year, and it will never ever be the same. It is joyful to experience something this second and know that it will never be exactly the same again. Each and every step in the sand of countless grains will touch specific nerves and travel to your mind differently with each step causing a thought process that won't ever be repeated. The warm wave splashing up to your ankles will bathe you the same way just once.

The beautiful blooms of the hibiscus, and ever fragrant smell of fresh jasmine, the freshness of a sprouting calladium, and the interactions with other people occur just once and will never be the same again. To ask the plant to bloom the same bloom again... to walk the same steps, to smell the same sweet smells and wonder if the same delight will occur is something we may unwittingly desire. I'm hoping that we aren't too disappointed if it doesn't happen, and instead look to the trending, the next, yet, developed progression. It is our destiny to leave someday, and I'm hoping to have touched as many people as I possibly could have.

I think I'm going to give the flowers some more water.

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