Lying asleep last night I met my muse. I almost missed her because she is fairy-quick and hides quite frequently. I grabbed her wrist, tugging on her copper corduroy blazer; she turned and looked at me. She spoke; I heard it with my mind. "I like that you're trying to write a story about me," she said. "I don't know what your story is," I said, "I only know what you look like. What do you want? Where are you going? I don't even know your name." She smiled, put her free hand on my cheek. I let go of her wrist, and just like that, she was gone.
Yesterday on my walk with Jack we came across these beautiful cherry blossom trees. "The significance of the cherry blossom tree in Japanese culture goes back hundreds of years. In their country, the cherry blossom represents the fragility and the beauty of life. It’s a reminder that life is almost overwhelmingly beautiful but that it is also tragically short. When the cherry blossom trees bloom for a short time each year in brilliant force, they serve as a visual reminder of how precious and how precarious life is" (Cantu) . Kind of ironic that I noticed and appreciated them on my dad's birthday, but if you read my entry from yesterday , you already know that I don't really believe in coincidence. I've been thinking a lot lately about the idea of impermanence, and how "safety" and "control" are really just false states. Whatever I have in my life, I get to have today, perhaps this moment, but it might not be that way in five years...
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