Fear and Love, contract and expand. See the world as frightening and the world becomes frightening. Hope is a choice. A good one. The best one. I’ve lived without hope and it’s not living. It’s barely surviving. It’s pretending to be alive, and when it takes too much energy to pretend, it’s death to the illusion.

No one is home, don’t bother knocking. Hopelessness is a choice. A poor one, yet understandable. Only the once deadened can reach you in that dry land. The others, with their annoyingly cheerful pep-talks, are swatted away like flies. They try to mean well but their words are meaningless.

If someone has passed through the fire and come out the other end, you would be wise to listen when they speak. A good story always contains a dark and perilous passage. That’s what makes the triumph so triumphant. Don’t give up halfway through. Ride on ’til the end; the woods clear, the sun dances on the Summer grass and your love greets you, whatever it is you love, as if you’d never left.

LBM 8/13/2021

Summer field, photo by Lori B. McCray

Photographer, Poet, Musician, Mother, Mystic, Gardener, friend of wild creatures, swan whisperer. Find me on Flickr: https://www.flickr.com/photos/wingthing/