Mr Interesting
17-11-2015, 08:00 PM
http://i4.photobucket.com/albums/y115/quickkiwi/dory_zpssejw4kay.jpg
This is a new thread but yesterday I spoke, quite at length, to my friend about how it is becoming increasingly difficult to tell stories because the threads of each go so far back now and cross over and interlink with other stories that it has somehow become so much less about the stories themselves and just bringing forth the reliability of being within all the threads.
I recently was called to an off shore island to work and they not only welcomed me, these born and bred rebels who know their blood, but was offered land for my own to be a part of this relaxed but strident definition of life tied to an outpost of old ways and deep and abiding personalities.
But, and it's the buts that define us eventually despite all our vagaries of despising them, I already have quite the mess to tidy up never mind starting a new one. But in another sense I am of middle age and the idea of choosing a place to die in seems somehow appropriate as if indeed the top of the hill has been breached and good keen eyesight sees a descending slope and a lovely restful valley at it's bottom.
An adventure beckons as it were though typically it calls for brave measures and one of those is because it is an island one must not only learn to sail but one must arrive under ones own steam.
This above is for sale for 3,000.00 dollars and I want it. It's as simple as that and so I will buy (by) a lotto ticket this Saturday. Again but, though and smatterings of whatever it isn't about having this boat as realistically the driveway, as it comes with a trailer, just couldn't fit it... well it could at a stretch, except I would be defrayed too much from what lies around me and before me to the extent that whatever threads are connecting would knot up and possibly be beyond my ability to untie in the lazy but focused manner to which I am inclined.
When, then, futures are so bright and obvious we do take heed. Figuratively speaking it just isn't so yet... but it will be. Yes indeed, and could quite possibly be even more glorious if our patience succeeds in holding us to the pattern that exists.
And more so that future already is. That this sturdy and gliding thing through waters below skies which give us the grace to be within glistening moments already moves and sets the sails of now. That watching and doing always exist together in forgetfulness.
This is a new thread but yesterday I spoke, quite at length, to my friend about how it is becoming increasingly difficult to tell stories because the threads of each go so far back now and cross over and interlink with other stories that it has somehow become so much less about the stories themselves and just bringing forth the reliability of being within all the threads.
I recently was called to an off shore island to work and they not only welcomed me, these born and bred rebels who know their blood, but was offered land for my own to be a part of this relaxed but strident definition of life tied to an outpost of old ways and deep and abiding personalities.
But, and it's the buts that define us eventually despite all our vagaries of despising them, I already have quite the mess to tidy up never mind starting a new one. But in another sense I am of middle age and the idea of choosing a place to die in seems somehow appropriate as if indeed the top of the hill has been breached and good keen eyesight sees a descending slope and a lovely restful valley at it's bottom.
An adventure beckons as it were though typically it calls for brave measures and one of those is because it is an island one must not only learn to sail but one must arrive under ones own steam.
This above is for sale for 3,000.00 dollars and I want it. It's as simple as that and so I will buy (by) a lotto ticket this Saturday. Again but, though and smatterings of whatever it isn't about having this boat as realistically the driveway, as it comes with a trailer, just couldn't fit it... well it could at a stretch, except I would be defrayed too much from what lies around me and before me to the extent that whatever threads are connecting would knot up and possibly be beyond my ability to untie in the lazy but focused manner to which I am inclined.
When, then, futures are so bright and obvious we do take heed. Figuratively speaking it just isn't so yet... but it will be. Yes indeed, and could quite possibly be even more glorious if our patience succeeds in holding us to the pattern that exists.
And more so that future already is. That this sturdy and gliding thing through waters below skies which give us the grace to be within glistening moments already moves and sets the sails of now. That watching and doing always exist together in forgetfulness.