Some days it will be warm evoking my jovial side. My happiness reminds me of times past when the weather had been the same: warm days in Florida, warm days in Portland, warm days of my youth - days roaming in pastures and wooded areas.
Here it doesn't remind me so much of Colorado. The air was dry there. The sun could warm me up on a cold day or burn in the heat. Colorado woke up the primal side of me. The side that wanted to survive, that wanted to thrive or dive into something full force and never let go.
The warm here wants me to breathe deeper, bury hope and live within a single moment. A deep breathe is all I have. It is the only moment. I don't like to think of tomorrow, of a goal, of a test ... of anything other than right now. Though, I do let the past creep up on me now and again.
But that is only when it is warm.
When it gets cold here. I hope for warmer days. With few cold-weather adventures, I seem to hold my breath. My greater work goes unfinished, and I wait for a moment when I can breathe again. I know I'm making too much of it, but I am really getting sick of the cold.
So maybe I'll live in Hawaii this summer. I no longer expect anything. I make tentative plans and flow with life. The other way is too painful, too shocking. A book on Buddhism made it seem controlling to ever make resolute plans. Why should we ever think we can control life?
I sent a letter to someone I haven't spoken to for a very long time. She was an ex of mine from way back in the day. I read something that reminded me of her, and I thought it was time to apologize yet again. I don't know if I'm really sorry for anything or the way it all happened. I grew so much from the experience. But I still think it affected her so badly. I hate it when my actions cause distress to another. It doesn't trouble me anymore, but I would hate to think anyone has to go on hating me or ruining good times with even a glimmer of me. I don't apologize much on that account, sooner forgotten ... sooner gone.
If I could really get a grip on one real opportunity for the future, I would let loose a whirlwind of hope. I think I could be great. But I feel all the hope that I've saved, accumulated for this very hard period is seeping from my soul. It leaks out like a mist. So I always seem hopeful, but deep inside it stays buried. I always thought my trial by fire would come all at once, in a single moment, proof for myself. But it's not like that at all ... It's a persistent trial. It stings at my heart, draws away, permits me to rebuild, brings me nearly to death and allows me to rebuild yet again - all this in a circle.
Mais, c'est la vie. J'espere.