When I was a student I used to write poetry, dark, meaningful poetry. I was also in a depressive state and drunk much of the time. For some reason it has always been easier to write in that state then to write in this one. Sad as I am I have this sense that I am supposed to write. I think maybe i have taken so long to discover and pursue the blog thing, because I've been scared I couldn't write without some kind of dark inspiration. But I want to write, so I will write choosing new inspiration, like my redemption, my husband, my children, family, our future. I was going to write about beautiful things, but we are almost home and I need to finish.
"It takes courage to grow up and become who you really are." — E.E. Cummings "Unbeing dead isn't being alive." — E.E. Cummings "We do not believe in ourselves until someone reveals that deep inside us something is valuable, worth listening to, worthy of our trust, sacred to our touch. Once we believe in ourselves we can risk curiosity, wonder, spontaneous delight or any experience that reveals the human spirit." — E.E. Cummings I had not intended to start with anything like the above quotes, but aren't they amazing? What I had wanted was to find a poem about winter. In the spider-webbed, cardboard-boxed-up mind of mine I remember something and I decided it was e.e.cummings but even though the internet is oh wow! I can't find it. Or maybe it's the dust. My husband needs all of the credit for this post. We discuss our life continuously. We look at the good and the bad, what we are doing right and what is going horribly wrong....
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