My mum was a dreaming realist, to a point...I know that much of the reason why I see the world the way that I do is from seeing it through her eyes. At least, she showed me different angles and layers and possibilities and encouraged me to find my own perspectives. I learned on my own how to temper these things with a healthy wash of that realism, of rational thought, because mum would dream, but struggle when the dreams couldn't find their wings. We all do, but it helps if your dreams have the potential for feathers in the first place.
Mum was also brutally honest. And I accepted that, very early. She left me with no young illusions as to my "looks", and I learned that if there was going to be anything beautiful about me, ever, it was going to have to come from within.
I'm still working on that. I'm grateful that, while I care about it and do try to enhance whatever I have to work with on any given day, I've been spared the traumaof being obsessed by these things. I'm grateful that life is ever progressing and that each moment is a chance to grow. And to learn. To see and feel and hear and touch, to smile and laugh, to share, to help, to take steps, to fall down, to get up, to try and to NOT fail, to hurt, to heal, to give, receive...to love.
I like this board. It's what I would hope could be said of me when I die. If that happens, I would honestly feel that my living mattered. I would like for that to be whatever may be called a legacy left, it would mean that my existence blessed and bettered a moment here or there for someone. It would mean that the hard things brought good out in their lessons for me, and that my learning could help someone in theirs.
I leave it here, this hope, in this blog of life, of everything, anything, nothing...
where it will be safe.
And understood. Yes. Seen for all that it truly is...and understood.
Have a beautiful Wednesday ~
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