School House Views

Does the focus of one’s life, become it?

I’ve always had this lovely little school house inside my mind.

Not a little house on the prairies school house. I'm not imagining myself in gingham print with all but sunny days ahead.

This school house is firmly planted inside a feeling.

The feeling is best described by me, to me, as faith.

FAITH

Defined here as : a strong appetite for what you cannot know for sure but innately understand as worthwhile and better than giving up. Faith is always beautiful, always in sharp contrast to the ugliness that it competes with. You can almost taste it, and that flavour it gives is a starting place from which to build adventurously.

Faith became consciously necessary to me when life first handed me the keys to my own mind, and all of a sudden the days were edging in on me to make it clear

it’s your turn kid.

It can be the best feeling in the world; when it's your turn to explore what you cannot know for sure.

But then comes the big D,

DECISION FATIGUE

Defined here as: exhaustion brought on by how little I trust myself to give me what I think I need, and a strong desire to avoid feeling anxious about existing on such flimsy ground. Speaking for myself, this state makes me,

a) insufferable, (usually first) or / and

b) ready to surrender, if only for a moment, to what's wiser than me

and when it's b, those intangible glistening gems — contentment, clean striving, learning with, imagination — all become possible again.

Do you know what I mean?

There’s a beautiful place inside that knows what it is to be living. That beautiful place was first turned on in me by the Smallests —

Fresh dewy Saturdays.

Sleepovers with pancake breakfasts and good people.

A Tree Grows in Brooklyn by Betty Smith.

Little waves on large rocks.

Sand / dirt / sea through damp fingers.

The smell off still-warm wind.

Delicate tears. Hunting tears. Laughter into tears.

Fresh men. Fresh women. Fresh books. Fresh bread.

Oh to have a little faith.