A Picture of Freedom


Eyes closed, wind in her hair, a look of…relief on my daughter’s face, as she spun on the spinny-see-saw-thing at the park; I could tell, this wasn’t spinning; this was flying. This was a moment of blissful freedom. I watched her, remembering that feeling.

There is a school of thought that I’d like to adopt that says that everything that happens is an opportunity to learn, to grow. This is that optimistic thinking which asks in any situation, “What can I learn here?” This is the type of attitude that clings to the hope that there is a reason – and a benefit – to everything.

What I know is: Life is hard and, ultimately, no matter your philosophy, it is unfair. Even with the balancing of everything through karma, the fact that I exist and have to go through these lessons, whether I want to or not, is unfair.

Yes, I want to cultivate a learning consciousness, a more positive outlook… it’s either that or sink deeper and deeper into despair and hopelessness.

May I find and nurture peace within myself, may I actually learn the lessons I’m meant to – let me find a purpose for the pain and struggle that is existence. But, please, please, please…let me also have moments like these, pockets of freedom, my eyes closed against the world and its sorrow, the wind in my hair…give me relief. Let me fly.


Spring Fling


I sit outside, basking in sunshine that has recently been so sparing – enjoying the Spring-like weather that keeps teasing us and then deserting us to languish in the cold and grey again. I drink in colour, I feast upon hope (which I want not to be a vain hope). I, plaything of Winter, adversary of Summer and mistress of Autumn, long for Spring to come in earnest and speak of new life and growth. It has to be time. Please. Let this be more than just a fling. Stay with me a while. Sing with me. Gently warm the harsh, the hard, the cynical away. Sing of new beginnings and dreams not so far from reality. Give me this, this poetic nonsense; let me have this to enjoy for more than a too fleeting moment, nothing more than a whispered promise you have no intention of keeping. I expect cruelty of Summer, but I expect more of you, Spring! Don’t disappoint me.