Saturday, April 23, 2016

In simplest terms


I may write poems, draw pictures, and pretend to all sorts of wisdom and eloquence, but the truth is, I am a clumsy learner feeling my way — quite happily, for I find living an adventure laden with untold surprise and unimaginable treasure and wealth. In simplest terms, I have come to realize that those troublesome, bothersome times when I wished or would have preferred to be somewhere else or to be doing something else, I was really nowhere and doing nothing at all. No one, least of all me, is above the moment, and nothing can be more instructive and beautiful. We are tried when we are ready, and tempered by the fire; thus we are fashioned, made useful, granted humility and kindness, and given to glory — the very same glory as the flowers and bees, a glory integral and not apart, at once tender, sweet, and anonymous. To seek elsewhere with such wealth at hand — is there a greater human tragedy? and from this do not all our other tragedies stem? In life we are granted a faithful mirror; in it we must find and see ourselves. Once we do, we understand there is no great or small; no difference, save in our own misconception of ourselves, between courage and dusting the furniture, between making breakfast and bidding our children to sing and fly free. Love is all: how many letters do I end this way? And yet, what else have I to send?



4 comments:

Jan said...

Anything that I would say or add, would not benefit this beautiful post in any way, shape or form...it is just so lovely~

William Michaelian said...

Dear Jan, if it is, it is your generous, kind reading that makes it so. Thank you.

Two Tigers said...

Love is all alright. The one thing, the only thing. You write from it, towards it, about it and for it. And for that I thank you.

William Michaelian said...

Ah, thanks, Gabriella; many thanks indeed.