Day 1768, no future.Daily picture, Poetry
For some reason, most of us like to look forwards. Obsessed by the end, we have a hard time taking our eyes of it, as if death is some kind of mystery, that can only be understood, when seen from up close.
This obsession for our future, the unknown that we want to be known, is taking away our attention of what we, at least partially, know. We have a past, were we rushed over in such a hurry, that we have more than enough to explore once we look back.
History in general, and our own more specific, are lying in a bed of facts. What I mean with that is: there is a past, and all the things, alive and dead had at all time a specific place in space. Napoleon was a man who moved around, his exact physical presence, where he was at what time, is no longer known, but he existed. We also know that he did things, he shaped the future of his time. So there is no debate over that he existed, but there is still debate over what his role was in our history.
Our own history tells a similar story. We also have a factual history, where we were at what moment, and besides that fact, a lot of other things happened in your life. But what exactly happened is in constant movement. You might think that that breakup in 1998 played out like you remembered, but do you know that for sure. You have your side of the story, your ex there’s, and the friend you went to and cried about it will probably tell an other story. Three stories, and for some strange reason they are all true.
There is no impartial observer in life, one that knows all the facts. Our history, is our truth, just realize that your version of your history it is in a constant flux. Just the fact that we slowly loose our memory should be proof enough, age polishes our history, it makes it nice and shiny, but you also slowly remove the surface and substance.
We are often afraid of the future, but just look back, and see how many mountains and hills you already climbed successfully. We only have a past to shape, there is literally no future (we can shape).
Today’s inspiration comes from Day 1505.
Ripples in life
predicts a rhythm
that you will see
as a cover
against bad weather
Day 1761, roots.Day's pictures, Poetry
I moved to a new house, city, or country on average every two, to three years I think. I don’t know why, I can always point to a reason, but if you do it so regular, you might as well assume that it’s just in my character. I am easy satisfied, but after a while, I will still pretend to be satisfied, but jump at the first chance to close the door behind me.
Some people like to find out where their little quirks come from. Where the first seed is sown, a little bit to far from the center. There have been made some attempts, by professionals, as well as the not so, to find the origin and, if necessary, a cure. I later found out, or concluded for my self, that all that doctors can do is to postpone the inevitable, and if they are good they, will help you dealing with that fact.
It is really easy to start digging in your past for the root of it all. The problem is that if you find a root, you tend to see where that one is going, all the while forgetting that an average tree has more than one root. All the roots are important for a tree to stand tall, and some of them might be rotten, butt even the roots that are rotten might keep you upright, when the wind is coming from that specific direction.
The poem for today is from Day 1425
at the door
in the wall
I don’t have this problem, some might say that that’s the problem with me. For me it’s the norm, and I always wonder how people can live in the same place, with the same job, for years and years. In my world, there is something “wrong” with them, maybe they just stare to long at opportunities, wondering if they want to, or dare.
Day 1612, tightened.Day's pictures
I will probably
from the past
I tightened it
and the paint
and still there
Day 1436, exterior.Day's pictures, Poetry
We have here
out off the soil
and easily changed
Day 1412, memories.Day's pictures, Poetry
and like the snow
rain and sun
will take away
Day 1380, locked.Day's pictures, Poetry
A leather chest
was put down
Day 1379, woven pattern.Day's pictures, Poetry
I see a pattern
at my life
or is it just
of a strap
Day 1373, I member.Day's pictures, Poetry
I’ve made it
I have the proof
in my hands
Day 1366, past it.Day's pictures, Poetry
are no longer made
because the end
Day 1331, warning.Day's pictures, Poetry
Colors in the mirror
are further away
than they appear
Day 1309, hiding.Day's pictures, Poetry
when I walk
from my hiding
Day 1306, flair.Day's pictures, Poetry
We might change
with a flair
when we shed
Day 1299, joined.Day's pictures, Poetry
my future depends
on how they are
Day 1290, lost.Day's pictures, Poetry
There are many
man made things
that have lost
and often also
Day 1265, muted.Day's pictures, Poetry