Posts Tagged life
these four walls
Posted by Daniel in the needs, the observations, the understanding on January 22, 2011
four walls provide shelter.
protection from rain and sun.
a buffer from the cold and heat.
a quiet place to find rest.
four walls do not provide life.
it doesn’t seep from the foundation.
it doesn’t blow in through the cracks.
it doesn’t drip from the light fixture
every time it rains.
life is made from love and laughter.
life is forged out of respect and admiration.
life is built through trust and participation.
old words with new meaning
Posted by Daniel in the good, the understanding on July 20, 2010
You were just a child. You had boyfriend pants, brightly dyed hair, both of your nipples pierced, and your head tilted toward the world. Your sweet, flowing innocence was evident in every looped “l”, every dotted “i”, and every praise for an unsmoked cigarette.
A To Do List
Posted by Daniel in the good, the understanding on January 31, 2010
To Do List
It’s really bittersweet that my To Do list actually looks like this. That, among all those other important things, I can easily, plainly spell out that terrible four letter word: divorce.
all the riches money can’t buy
Posted by Daniel in the good, the needs, the observations on December 11, 2009
They’re really not so different than us, wealthy people. You’d think with so much money and fame and fortune that their lives would be remarkably different. And on the surface they are. Everything they have is bigger, everything has nicer labels on it, and there are some problems that simply don’t exist when you have enough money to throw around. But once you get under the surface, everything else is the same.
expectations
where it settles
My expectations continue to let me down. I am learning that the difference between what I expect and what really occurs often equates to the level of my frustration or, as I learn to manage it, simple disappointment.
a waste
the longest field
It’s 4:00am and my alarm is ringing. I usually wake up naturally no later than 5. But not today. Not any more. I fumble with it, no longer used to it’s buttons and switches, and eventually silence it. I take a deep breath and look at the clock again. It’s 4:02am.