Scottish Garden

"If I ever do grow up," said she, "I want to be like that."
"Oh yes Odette, those flowers are very beautiful."
"Flowers? Yes, they're nice. But I'm not cut out to be a wall flower ma'am, I want to be as strong and as sturdy as that wall."

Listography: Top 5 things I love about kids

The end of semester marathon has really taken a toll on my brain, I can't string two words together just for the fun of it. So I'm particularly grateful to Kate over at Kate takes 5 for having decided to have Listography this time of the month. (Thanks Kate!)

Listography: Top 5 things I love about kids

1.- I love all the wacky, crazy things the young'uns think up. They think out of the box so to speak, because they haven't grown old and "proper" yet and built themselves one like most adults! You want to find a critical thinker, ask a kid that is completely unbiased, has no prejudice and is honestly curious about something. You'd be suprised.

2.- I love how I am with kids. See, I'm afraid I haven't totally grown up yet, I'm at the stage where you start to go from "playful" to "childish". Buuuuut when it's with kids I'm playing around, I'm more legit! x)

3.- Children don't mind making a mess and don't bother if you don't clean up. Need I say more?

4.- Since they believe pretty much anything you say, they inspire you to believe too. Who doesn't gloat when their child says to his friend: "My mom is the best mommy in the world!"?

5.- They avoid the complications and bureaucracy that adults for some bizarre reason like. They don't see that the house chores aren't done yet, your clothes don't match and you didn't "schedule" a visit to the zoo. Their logic is car + idea of visiting the zoo= visit to the zoo, and they're out the door! Spontaneous it is!

Forks

You know, my reading has been very ecclectic of late: with common ground, but contradictory. With repeated themes but viewed with different paradymes. Some well known, some totally unknown. Subjects ranging as far as psychology, phylosophy, religion, politics... (I've been using my bus time well! x) If I allowed these new thoughts true entry into my brain and heart they would pivot me in new ways and new paths.

No matter what I read I'm usually very good at filtering the new information into
a) The brain. Archived as information or culture, but not really letting it seep into me or
b) My heart. Where I allow thoughts the liberty to materialize in my behavior or worldview.

But now my own logic has been trying to make me adjust my judgement. So I would come back with my head full of new information and my heart filled with confusion.

Thankfully, the wave has passed and reflecting on all this I've come to see this process in a different light.

Of course I'll find different viewpoints than I'm used to if I don't discriminate my readings. If I wanted to avoid the clash of ideas I would discriminate what I read and shut myself up in my comfort zone. But I don't want to do that, I refuse.

On the other hand, it's perfectly normal to encounter new things, it's healthy. It's part of the thesis + antithesis = sinthesis that flows in this dialectic world. It's necessary.

Hmmm...

Wisps of smoke

I confess myself a complex and contradictory being, with halfhearted whims, powerful outbreaks and irrational inconsistencies. A romantic and realistic heart and soul. I thrive in my silent contemplations, as I close my eyes and free my soul forgetting reason and reality and I am a queen and a pauper, a danser, a damsel, and a poet.

As a queen I am haughty and arch my neck and my head bows to no one. And my choice is backed by power and I relish in it and in the power of my decisions. And I choose to be cruel or forgiving and the realization of each caprice and desire of mine depends on my wish of making them true or not.

And then I am a pauper and I thirst water and hunger bread. And I am thankful for each drop of rain that quenches my thirst and for each morsel that no matter the taste I find delicious because I managed to eat. And I thank the warm wind for being my coat and the world for being my home.

Then a noise arouses me from my slumber and my eyes open once more and I am who I used to be. And I stroke my babys hair and I caress her cheek as she sleeps and then so do I.

When again I see I am a passionate dancer and my skirt swirls like a river and my steps have the beat of fire. My hands and my eyes speak with each move, each stop, each curve I make soundlessly. And I am an object of awe and admiration, completely out of reach and slightly out of mind.

Then there is silence and my dress is bleached and the wild in my eye disappears and I am a sweet and fragile damsel. And I clutch at my throat and I shut my eyes and hug my knees and hide. I am scared and shut my heart and my mind and lie still in the pureness of my soul.

When I stand I am poet and my lips tingle and my eyelids bat and my stomach quivers from feelings that aren't there. And my love and my woes, my hopes and my fears pour out of my heart and my soul until I feel empty but find this emptiness oddly filling and satisfaction is mine. 

I am a somewhat ashamed and somewhat proud that I allowed these wisps of smoke escape from my mind while the thoughts and desires that mothered them have never yet seen the sun and the window of their materializing is incredibly small. 

And I pretend I am not all these things and I pretend that I am too.

And they exist. And they do not.

Just Look: Peekaboo!