a thought

pain is part of the picture

i seem to have caught a cold. yet i am glad.

i am glad because: it’s a part of life and therefore it means i am alive, for one. (and not because it gives me an excuse to sit in bed and read books all day. no.) but mostly it’s that, without sickness, can we really appreciate being in good health? experiencing bouts of feeling not so good and the relief from being restored is a comparison that, if it didn’t happen, would there be less shine in being healthy? we already take life too much for granted. we’re not safe.

the bad things are what help us be grateful for the mundane. don’t you wish for your boring life back when in the middle of a troubling situation? everything has its purpose. so why not be thankful for it all – not just the good things?

(and like diamonds in the dirt, the mundane is what, by comparison, lets the extraordinary shine all the brighter. don’t the poor value wealth more than the rich do? wealth in wealth is a drop in a great lake; wealth in poverty is a cup of water in a desert.)

i know from experience that pain in life isn’t a dead end, or pointless, or even a bad thing. intrinsically, it’s bad; but it has a purpose. it’s just like physical injuries: you hurt, then your body repairs itself. it might feel like being nearer to death, but life comes in parts, one has to end before the next begins – sometimes they die quietly and peacefully, other times not so much.

i’m not saying being sick is enjoyable or a cause for joy, exactly. it’s just that life is more than the present moment, even if the present is all we have.

a thought

september sounds like flowers growing quietly and popcorn

was it always this peaceful in the mornings? after everyone else has left for work and school, and i am left to exist in my quasi-reality state. which, right now, happens to find me sitting on the back of the couch with my legs out the window in the spring sun, the spring breeze. i can hear the sugar cane fields across the paddocks singing shhhhhhhh in the wind like a sunny green sea. its twenty-one days into September and spring but winter still hangs around the edges of the days and paints in some of the nights. all the new greenness is dotted over the stick trees and little flowers have been drawn out by the sun. even if it hasn’t actually rained in weeks.

its probably that, in the mornings, my mind is too busy telling me i should be doing something, anything, being ‘productive’: any number of things which aren’t exactly life-and-death important and only really stress me out more. so i end up doing less. so today i told myself to shut up and instead let myself sit and enjoy the breeze because i am at liberty to do so. and it happyifies me so that maybe i’ll get something done, which i prove in writing whatever this is.

because i guess my goal at this point is to wipe away the anxiety that’s trying to build up again, though i’m really not exactly sure where it’s coming from. not that it matters; i’ve already learned (nevermind after about a dozen times) that analysing problems does not always make them better. the solution is more important. and that solution involves fighting the negativity clogging up my brain – fighting it calmly with birdsong breeze and flowers and matcha ginseng tea. half-legit window seats and breathing in the air that makes things grow. and maybe forcefully preventing myself from telling me how stupid i am.


oh, lovely: apparently this peaceful day is the one the sugar cane fields were deemed to burn. (don’t be alarmed; this is normal. apparently.) now it sounds like a large saucepan of popcorn popping in the distance. that’s nice. burn the sea. though unfortunately its not very inferno-like this time.

poetry has kinda abandoned me lately. it does that. although maybe i’m just not trying – but does it need me to try? mostly i just let my ideas float into my head because it doesn’t work much if i force it, but really i don’t know. but i have been able to work on my stories: piecemeal-like but still. i need to try harder at everything, is what i think.

vaguely concerned i’m about to drop my laptop out the window any minute now. maybe get sunburned also.

so before i end this out of fear for my laptop’s health and that of myself, (if you’re questioning why my words have this formallyness to them, it’s just what happens when i read biographies and 19th century classics.) i shall mention that i turned seventeen recently, which again led me to ask the question: what is my life. and still i do not possess an answer acceptably pertaining to reality. though i think it’s fair to say i have a better general idea than i did a year ago; even more so than the year before that, which does not deserve discussion. but anyway, i will continue to live and continue to learn. because what is living without learning?

also now i wish to redirect you, if i may, to the website of International Talk Like A Pirate Day. which was the 19th of September and i am a failure of punctuality, obviously. [i… also forgot to wear my pirate costume.] but, early notice, you know? early notice is good.






a thought

tend to your own garden

i feel like a ghost slowly becoming material again, but still flickering transparent. hesitating because it remembers somewhere the things that killed it in the first place, but trying to know it’s different.

it’s like i have to remind myself to stop thinking the time before the sunrise is the dusk instead – it looks the same but means something different. or maybe it’s always been the same and i’m hoping to find the daylight that stays light. or something.

i wish i could stop confusing myself in everything. cause it’s simple. if it’s not then youre thinking about it the wrong way. thinking is the problem. i dont know. i just wish we’d all stop trying to figure every tiny little thing out by ourselves. look outwards. share the good, share the bad.

i want to change things. i want to pull up the weeds and plant flowers in their place. but then i remember you have to change yourself before you can expect to change anything else. why go out to tend someone else’s garden when your own is a mess? it sounds simple. but it also sounds like fix yourself, but then everything else looks like its stopping that and suddenly perhaps nothing is simple.

but it has to make sense one day – just not today. which hurts because, what do you do now? but it’s soothing cause it isn’t just a tangle with no answer. it will be sorted in the end. how you get there looks like tricky unknowns now, but maybe its worth remembering that you can’t think about tomorrow’s work if you haven’t done today’s. you can’t plant the seeds before you’ve prepared the soil, you can’t expect to see anything growing tomorrow if you haven’t planted anything today. maybe this is a different argument.

sometimes there’s no good place for a flower to grow, but it will grow anyway.
sometimes a seed can have everything it could possibly need, but it stays dead regardless.

either way, its not worth worrying about. all you can do is plant the seed.

a thought

learning to be a flower

that’s a photo of a rose i took this morning. yes, i know it’s obviously a photo of a rose. but. um.

yesterday i saw this rose starting to open, then in half bloom. in a few days it’ll probably be wilted. probably this rosebush doesn’t like where it is but i wouldn’t know.

[i get to notice these things because i do not happen to be in possession of what the average human calls a ‘life.’ but a life with flowers is better than a life without flowers, right?

of course it is, says i. shut up, i.]

but it made me think of a question: what’s the point? i ask this question way too much sometimes. but maybe the flowers have a good answer.

like, what’s the point of a flower, if it’s here today and gone tomorrow? what’s the point of anything so fleeting? what’s the point of anything at all, for that matter – if every bit of life ends up dead? why do anything now, if nothing ever lasts? why even bother when it won’t even matter in the end?

flowers are pretty. flowers smell nice.  they’re here to make us happy and help us to be appreciative, to bring a sense of rightness and beauty. yes, they’re fragile – but maybe that makes them all the more valuable, because it tells the truth. anything good is fragile. life is fragile. which is why you have to hold on to it.

the point is that – and i speak for the flowers, so let’s hope i got the message right – the point is now. not any inevitables that take place at an indeterminable time. not even the actual existence of a point. the point does not depend on you knowing there is a point – there is one and it matters. everything matters and plays its part, no matter how tiny it seems.

the point is not how everything ends. flowers grow up and bloom with absolutely zero care as to whether they’ll wither and die tomorrow, no cares about how they look, no worries of being trampled or being ripped out.

flowers don’t care why. they just are. they shine and spread brightness in the time they’re given, as if knowing now is all they have, all they’ll ever have, so they bloom like they’ll never die. sure, they’ll die soon enough, but now is for living as if they’re the prettiest, brightest flower there ever was.

so why do i feel like i need a reason for anything, as long as i’m content and making the most of now? how much more capable are we of bringing happiness than flowers, how much more light can we give? maybe we’ll die tomorrow. but that’s not stopping us from blooming today – because, really, today is all we’re given and all we’ll ever have.

i think i’d like to remember this every time i see a flower. learn to be a flower and stop wasting time searching for the point. a rosebush has lots of points. but they’re sharp and they hurt so maybe don’t look for them either.