Rambling as usual

Another day in the suburban jungle.  My morning was crowded with too many thoughts begging for attention.  Philosophical Sunday mornings make sipping from my peace sign coffee cup even sweeter. A new month has begun; October symbolizes a time to step back and make note of our harvest for the future.   

I’m constantly questioning, perhaps even doubting, if what I’m cultivating will produce the desired result.  Cultivating for the future is a daunting task that requires patience and appreciation of time and doubt often plants its seeds alongside hope and optimism.  Doesn’t matter how hard one works or how the soil is nourished with sweat and tears to keep an impeccable and successful garden, weeds manage to bloom out of the ground.   

 What I know is that the path I’ve chosen to plant my garden is not easily found in any map.  I have many desires, dreams and goals, perhaps some are even invisible to the outside world.   Don’t know when doubts began, or if they have always been there like a persistent weed that needs to be pulled from the root in order to destroy it forever.  Is it human nature to doubt ourselves constantly?  Or perhaps the Wayne Dyer is correct:   "The only difference between a weed and a flower is judgment."

I appreciate what I have, often stepping back to admire, ponder, wonder and wander of what I am, where I’ve been and unknown that awaits me.  Can’t help but laugh at some of my silly doubts, always remaining rational and optimistic.  There will always be a little seed inside me in denial/disbelief of what I’ve become, for better or worse.  And after all the doubts, I believe in myself,  my work, my effort, and my sacrifice again.  

I stumbled upon this poem today that was very fitting for that moment and my thoughts. 

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I Am Much Too Alone in This World, Yet Not Alone  

by Rainer Maria Rilke
translated by Annemarie S. Kidder

I am much too alone in this world,

yet not alone enough

to truly consecrate the hour.

I am much too small in this world,

yet not small enough

to be to you just object and thing,

dark and smart.

I want my free will and want it accompanying

the path which leads to action;

and want during times that beg questions,

where something is up,

to be among those in the know,

or else be alone.

I want to mirror your image to its fullest perfection,

never be blind or too old

to uphold your weighty wavering reflection.

I want to unfold.

Nowhere I wish to stay crooked, bent;

for there I would be dishonest, untrue.

I want my conscience to be

true before you;

want to describe myself like a picture I observed

for a long time, one close up,

like a new word I learned and embraced,

like the everyday jug,

like my mother's face,

like a ship that carried me along

through the deadliest storm.