Day Thirty, Bonus post

As I was going about my day, I had thoughts that I jotted down because they resonated with my sensibilities. If they don’t yours, that’s okay.

  • Know what you want and make it happen.
  • Fall in love with everything always, every day.
  • Don’t forget to look up to the falling leaves. Their promises have already been met.
  • Keep moving, even if it’s a sidestep. (Miss Marge used to tell me that was the secret to a long life, keep moving. I added the sidestep because I’m prone to misadventures and being lost).
  • Desire paths are not always according to the plans of the well intentioned.

This is a quote I read today in an article about “Desire paths.”

“You’ve just taken a “desire path,” described by Robert Macfarlane as “paths & tracks made over time by the wishes & feet of walkers, especially those…that run contrary to design or planning”; he calls them “free-will ways.” Robert Moor offers other terms, such as ‘cow paths,’ ‘pirate paths,’ ‘social trails,’ ‘kemonomichi (beast trails),’ ‘chemins de l’ane (donkey paths)’, and ‘Olifantenpad (elephant trails).’ JM Barrie described them as ‘Paths that have made themselves.’

The Conquering Spirit

Air, Fire, Water, Earth, and Spirit

Air, Fire, Water, Earth, and Spirit

I heard the winds of petitioning change howling ‘cross my floor

With courage bound beneath my wings, I opened up my door

The zephyr stole the tendril rooted as a graft for something more

Then whispered inspirations of hope to lift me up to soar

The torch of passion lit a match within my questing flame

to engulf the hearts of lovers true so they would know my name

The fuel that sparked me from the hearth that offered me fair game

has rallied blazing scars of power, on which to stake my claim

I felt the waves of transitional change sprinkling on my skin

The enterprise crashed over me, before I knew to swim

The tidal pools they pull me down beneath the spiraling spin

But the riptide it allows me surf; to shore it brings me in

My feet were planted firmly down beneath the molding clay

which were planted in the sanctioned soil that sent me on my way

The rocks beneath my nomadic feet gather no moss today

The earthen field I stand upon gives gardens of rosy bouquets