Snow looks different depending on the window. Watching through a third floor window is not the same as watching through a first floor window. I think it has to do with the float vs. the impact. Tonight's question: is falling snow in itself sad and beautiful, or is it merely my current mood projecting melancholy on the soft white petals? The combination of this view, the adorable voicemail my family left me earlier, admitting to a weakness in character, the looping of my Alison Krauss collection, and the poetry of William Carlos Williams is actually quite draining.
[Thursday]
I have had my dream - like others -
and it has come to nothing, so that
I remain now carelessly
with feet planted on the ground
and look up at the sky -
feeling my clothes about me,
the weight of my body in my shoes,
the rim of my hat, air passing in and out
at my nose - and decide to dream no more.
[okay, so maybe it's mostly the poetry]
On this first day of the week, the challenge is to live in the objective truth of the gospel, not subjective emotions and distractions of daily living.
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