once upon a slow thursday morn

March 26, 2009 candacemorris 1 Comments

today my body is in protest: protest of walking, protest of waking, protest of making my bed. i confess my unwillingness to dress and leave the house on my morning walk. there are days when my bones can carry nothing more than my weighty soul, my flesh desirous only of the weighted slumber of my comforter. but alas, i hit snooze as much as i wanted, and then finally arose with grumble and grit. i also must confess that i walked because i told you i would. i never thought the internet could keep me so accountable.

there are days when i can multitask wondrously, but today i minimize distractions, keep only one webpage open, blink out the world, and crawl into my foxhole.


and i wonder at this changling.
while i walk, i write.

to be human is to change. we feel so acutely in one moment something we discredit in the next. if we choose one path, we feel ashamed if tomorrow we choose another. we fall in love; we grow cold. we are attached; we need space. we love; we hate.

taking into account this ever-changing nature, i suppose then that the most ideal relationship will allow another the change of their nature, with no explanation, expectation, or resentment - to encourage the culdesac of the soul.


as i walked on this bright, brisk morning, my legs felt like weights and head clouded in gray. though nothing in my awareness plagues my soul this morning, i feel cautious, quiet. i want to stare out the window like my cat and sit for hours.

and then i realize that i am living the life wherein i can do exactly as i please at any given whim, and my eyes sting with gratitude, my soul expands with breath...




alas, happy thursday to you. today my hope for you is that you leave yourself alone - be a friend to yourself - and take what you need with the knowledge that you are exactly as you are supposed to be.

~candace ruth

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1 comments:

UmberDove said...

I love that you are taking these pictures, and I love how much they reflect you musings. Where your head is stationed, where you hold your eyes, the photos unapologetically capture your sight line. I love that one day it is the sky, magical in sunlight and refraction, the next it is skimming the concrete and the dense weight of bark.

I love it because it is real.

(and just for the record, I miss you)