Monday, November 24, 2014

Thistledown


Freedom is the art of letting go, now, of all that will be washed away in the end — our prejudices and cares, our politics, arrogance, religion, and despair, our national identities, our borders, our pride, our patriotism, our greed, our theft, our war, our grief, our guilt, our anger, our pain, our need to feel larger, better, smarter, richer, or more sophisticated than our fellow travelers through this world — yes, and even our talents and abilities, which are temporarily on loan, and which, in the absence of grace and of love, can only define us so far. Why cling? Why sink chained to one’s rest, when one can rise, light as thistledown in the wind?



2 comments:

Lorraine Renaud said...

There is only Love. I like the way you said it better.

William Michaelian said...

You are kind, Lorraine. Thank you.