Skip to main content

The little things

The path is the same, it seems. The same! But the little things, they change each day. Since I opened my eyes I can see the little things.That does not mean that I see them since I was born. That's not what I'm saying! They have been there, I know, but I did not see them, the little things. I see them now and it took a long journey, a long and difficult crossing, to see the little things along the path. 

I've walked this path every day for a while now. I had walked it before, occasionally. But I did not see the little things then. I'm sure they were there and I stepped on them, probably crushed and even killed a few, but I did not see them. 

My mother, I think, when she was around, saw the little things and tried to show them to me, but I did not see them. There was no time for the little things then. I was in a hurry, I had things to do, I was angry, I ran fast. No time for the little things. She found them on the air, up above, usually. The trees, the flowers, the birds, the skies... They can be anywhere. Now, I know. 

I appreciate what she tried to do, my mom. But there is a time for each one of us. And, then, it was her time, not mine. Her time to see the little things, to appreciate them, to savour them. Now it is mine. They are not up above, the little things I see. They are mostly on the ground, scattered, simple and beautiful. 

It was only when my heart expanded and I opened my eyes that I could see them on the same path I've walked every day. They are bright, luminous and shiny. They are leaves, green, new, brown, dead, dry... They are seeds and flowers, buds, blooming, dying, dead, colourful, alive... They are ants, working hard, determined, carrying the weight of the world, diligently, faithfully... 

They make me happy, the little things. They show me beauty, delicacy, impermanence, hope. The wind brings them, man sweeps them away. They come back the other day, they insist on their right to exist. 

They are there for everyone to see. They are there on the path, along the way. You may see them too when you make your journey, when you cross your thresholds, when your heart expands and you open your eyes. You may see them, the little things, and may they bring you happiness too. 


Labels:

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

The kind of person who lights candles

  I am the kind of person who lights candles. This is now, not then. it is a recently acquired habit, one that has done me well. I light up candles every day. In the beginning of each class I set up an intention, I focus and I light the candle. I ask myself to be the light, to be the container, not the conduit. I am now the kind of person Who walks barefoot on the grass of my backyard and lets herself shower in the improbable rain of Brasilia in May.  The four elements rest now on my desk making my therapist smile when told about them, making her proud of myself and my journey. I am the kind of person that feels the connection with the elements, and nature and the universe, so new. I am again a newborn being. And it is not the first time, I have once died and it’s no secret. This time, however, I did not have to die. I had only to shed the old skin, the one who served me no more. I am still the kind of person who looks in the mirror and who wonders who this new being is. This new self
Post a Comment
Read more

No espelho

  Olhei hoje para o espelho e me vi mais serena, me enxerguei com mais leveza. Não que esteja de fato mais leve, eu acho. Ou será que estou? Tenho ainda infinitas incertezas e dúvidas aos milhares, mas a imagem que me olhou de volta do espelho, não me olha com tristeza, dor pânico.     A imagem que vejo nesse espelho é de     calma, no olhar certa paz, talvez de se entender humana, imperfeita e aceitar essa condição.     Aqui, deste lado que estou, me observando no espelho, sinto ainda o coração encolher como se uma mão o quisesse esmagar. Encolhe-se para sobreviver e expande-se em seguida. Ao encolher-se, a respiração dá uma pausa e uma bolha de cristal sobe em refluxo, pausando ali no meio da goela. Assim que pode, o coração retorna a seu pulsar, seu ir e vir. Permanecem ali as dúvidas, as exigências, as demandas, mas também os desejos de só ser, irresponsavelmente ser e atender a cada quimera. Porque a vida é curta! A vida é sopro!    E o outro? Os outros? Todos os outros?  É precis
Post a Comment
Read more

Sobre os artistas - Para Bruno Sandes

  Créditos da imagem: Jacobs School of Music Marketing and Publicity
Post a Comment
Read more