Just a Handful

A child sitting where the grass meets the sand. The air is filled with a harmonious humming of sounds, but she hears nothing. Her hand moves in waves across the dirt, and every now and again her head shakes her tightly bound curls from her face. They peak out from behind her ears trying to involve themselves in her tidious ordeal. I watch, just as invested. Her eyes pace, quickly, back and forth moving in rhythm with her elbows, and her wrists, which guide her delicate fingers one by one through the soil. She picks of a handful of sand. Is that just sand, or is that a pile of treasure? Could it be jewels, or coins, beads, or maybe a dozen sweet tarts. It is just a handful, or is it a full hand. One implies hardly anything while the other suggest nearly the greatest amount possible. Suddenly a bird fluttered down beside the young girl and in seconds her hands were empty and she was chasing after the squaking animal.. Just like that she had left what she had behind, interwined in the blades of grass. Maybe it was just sand, maybe it was something more... Just a handful.

The heart of time

On a day to day basis I sit and ponder whether what I say are rightfully said and if what I do holds significance. I wonder, is "here and now" okay? Today I took some time to think about the questions in which I always find time to ask but never have the time to answer. Oh the ties of time.... Once I was honest with myself though, I found that the time that I have in a day, the time I take to think, the time I take to act, it never changes. The equilibrium of the two may falter, yet the actually moments, every minute, the strike of every hour, it remains the same. 24 hours in a day, 60 minutes in an hour, 60 seconds in a minute, and so the numbers flow by throughout the day. And so, this time that i have set aside to think has yet, always been, and still until today I had been unaware of it's existence. I believe it was due largely in part to the imbalance of the way that I was willing to process my thoughts. I tend to think with my heart rather than my head much of the time, and although I entrust my hands to practice that which I believe, I have always allowed the passion that I feel to take over both the teachings that guide my beliefs and the ways in which I distribute the thoughts that they provide me with. So, I am starting today on a knew note. I am starting a fresh page, a clean canvas, so that my mark of equality between what I know in my head, feel in my heart, and do with my hands, will not be lost amongst the paintings of yesterday. Whether it be in struggle or stride, today is a new day to move forward.