Joke #1 It was allegedly circulated among senior White House officials, and one of the jokes even made it to then-President Ronald Reagan himself, according to The Daily Mail. The joke goes as follows: “An American tells a Russia that the United States is so … Continue reading
As she looked at her own face in the mirror, she suddenly recalled the sorrowful widow. It was at that moment that she wrote the opening lines of “Solitude“.
Laugh, and the world laughs with you;
Weep, and you weep alone;
For the sad old earth must borrow its mirth,
But has trouble enough of its own. ~ Ella Wheeler Wilcox
In giving shape my view of the world having a solitary person in the foreground suggests that it is okay to be alone but not lonely.
All work and no rest makes a man boring. Rest he did in his three-wheeler taxi cab. Who needs money when one is too tired to enjoy life. When he wakes up from his solitude, life becomes bearable again.
And what on earth is he doing down there alone? Fishing! Men prefer to reel a fish similar to playing golf, alone. So why do men enjoy fishing alone? Because the fish are bigger and the stories are better with no witnesses!
In a crowd of a million tourist, he just have to sit down with a non-verbal companion. Maybe he had enough listening, blah-blah-blah. Or maybe he is just like me observing how silly tourist really are. Or maybe he left his wife in a store shopping. Or maybe…
Ah, solitude, such sweet surrender.
There are certain movements men do that I can see how graceful they are. More graceful than females do. It’s their feminine side that they do not want to admit.
They are beautiful. Beautiful in the sense that they don’t have to prove their masculinity. The beauty that oozes with sublime humility where fellow-men can watch with quiet admiration.
Where is the beauty in them?
The beauty exists in my mind how rounded they are. Not just how nice they are to stop, pause and be photographed. It is how gracious they are in accepting a stranger in their environment.
Emerging elegantly from the depth of an ancient tree enriches how life mysteriously unfolds my memory of Cuba ever so gracefully.
We check around the surroundings in search for a perfect ambience, our eyes darting from one object to another, our whole body tasting, breathing, feeling, smelling, touching, hearing, listening all in one instance taking it all in.
But…. there is no but. We can only focus on one that will transport us from a lot of movement into our inner world with conscious measure of calmness and clarity.
And then, I could feel the air pulsing and be one with the hummingbird, heart beating as fast its wings yet hovering still to the sweet aroma of the nectar beckoning it, kissing and drinking the elixir of life.