It’s not what you look at that matters; it’s what you see. –Henry David Thoreau
I fully knew the probable outcome going into my situation. I forged ahead anyway.
I’m one of those people. I have to experience the truth for myself. If it isn’t firsthand knowledge it doesn’t feel like truth. It feels like secondary opinion.
Head knowledge is different than heart knowledge, and people like me will choose a broken-hearted wisdom over ignorant bliss every time. Without exception.
I’ve worked my way through the mine fields, planting a plant or two and singing my songs when I could. I came into things with a “can-do” attitude… I will leave humbled.
Willingness and ability are only divided by the variable of opportunity, of circumstance. I’ve at least learned that.
I wouldn’t do it again for any amount of money, or any promise of hope. Promises get broken. Money spends. There isn’t much worth gambling on or hoping for in this world anymore. I never really was the betting kind anyway. I simply took chances, and I took them not to succeed but to learn.
Succeeding in learning isn’t fun. For what it’s worth.
I’ve built a monument to tragedy in memory of innocence. I’m not sure which hurts worse: the memory or the tragedy.
Time measures our lives in units of sorrow, in incremental fractions of longing. In the moment, we only see what we can’t wait to have. Afterwards, we only see what we can’t get back. The “now” is a mistress of misery in this unseeing way, and the world –so madly– keeps spinning.