Friday, September 13, 2013
In a few hours I'll cross the threshold and leave behind my thirties. I'll be forty years old tomorrow. It's a strange feeling.
Today was one of those glorious September days in which you can easily notice the rapid departure of the sun from its summer prominence. Gone are the mornings of early light and late evenings. Gone is the warmth of such strength that the power of winter is but a distant memory. We are hurtling towards the dark season of the year.
All was sharpness today. The air was sharp. The outline of trees was sharp. The contours of the sun's light spilling through countless leaves was also sharp. My awareness of the gift of time was sharp. My awareness of the many gifts I have been given through the familial blood I carry is sharp. I have much to offer. And I wish to continue offering much of my own compassion to my own self so that my own journey forward can continue.
Here is a short poem for today:
The moon waxes still further.
Its light glistens over the lake's soft undulations.
Its illumination is a whisper, an invitation to return
to awareness of my deepest origin
within the Cosmos that is all around me.
I shall awaken tomorrow morning in a new age.
And I ask myself now what is youth and what is old age?
What is maturity?
And who decides?
The youthful man still resides in me.
Elderhood awaits me in the future.
For now I live in the prime of my life
and steadily each day I am healing more and more.
Birth and death are never ending.
In a few hours I'll cross the threshold and leave behind my thirties. I'll be forty years old tomorrow. It's a strange feeling.
Today was one of those glorious September days in which you can easily notice the rapid departure of the sun from its summer prominence. Gone are the mornings of early light and late evenings. Gone is the warmth of such strength that the power of winter is but a distant memory. We are hurtling towards the dark season of the year.
All was sharpness today. The air was sharp. The outline of trees was sharp. The contours of the sun's light spilling through countless leaves was also sharp. My awareness of the gift of time was sharp. My awareness of the many gifts I have been given through the familial blood I carry is sharp. I have much to offer. And I wish to continue offering much of my own compassion to my own self so that my own journey forward can continue.
Here is a short poem for today:
The moon waxes still further.
Its light glistens over the lake's soft undulations.
Its illumination is a whisper, an invitation to return
to awareness of my deepest origin
within the Cosmos that is all around me.
I shall awaken tomorrow morning in a new age.
And I ask myself now what is youth and what is old age?
What is maturity?
And who decides?
The youthful man still resides in me.
Elderhood awaits me in the future.
For now I live in the prime of my life
and steadily each day I am healing more and more.
Birth and death are never ending.
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