Sunday, January 25, 2009

The North

He was old and bored. The long nights that used to fill his life belong to another age. Days slowly went by while he felt empty and passed over. His memories vague, his expectations nil.

His old likes and willingness to share all but forgotten. Nobody wanted him, nobody called. His friends, the stars, with cold hearts. The long nights, the short nights, a day, another day. Everything the same. Everything tasteless.

Only rarely did he bother to seek, but without hope.


An ant walks quickly through a long and winding path. She carries a small leaf between her pincers. She knows where she goes. Her instinct is more powerful than her consciousness. She works and keeps on working. She runs; she walks. She will not rest until she breathes her last.

He looks upon her from above.
His previous irony gone.
His pride deflated.
He just observes.

She does not stop. She pursues her task without thought.
In an explosion of energy she lifts another leaf and moves on. She departs from the beaten track and moves away. Her stubborn insistence; her admirable dedication. How strange but she is lost.

His solitude has been so complete that he cannot recognize the feelings that invade him. He lets himself be guided by his instinct. He focuses on the tiny ant and shares his own peculiar brand of magnetism.

She stops as if listening. She turns back until she reaches the track leading to her nest.

He smiles. He remembers. He thinks of the many times that men had followed him The times he had guided them. The time when he was master.

And finally he again accepts who he is, his unchanging self. His strength - even if it is no longer admired.

"I am the North - the Magnetic North."

He falls silent, as before - but now shares himself with other creatures. "To be useful again" he says as he looks around.

Wednesday, January 21, 2009

A Small Man with Large Shining Eyes

Once upon a time there was a small man.

He had a dark complexion and large shining eyes.

He enjoyed walking by the side of a stream where the sound of the falling water made him feel at ease.

One day as walked his usual path he heard a sound.

It was a soft noise as if a child was throwing pebbles into a small pool and in the background, hardly above a whisper, leaves rattling on the ground.

Nobody can say for sure as he was a solitary walker.

Like many others he had his fair share of curiosity.

He decided to take a look.

He walked into the woods and soon saw a soft transparent silk cloth, hanging between two old trees.

The wind was blowing ever so softly and the silk was weaving gently.

Through it he could see, as if in a fog, the figure of a young woman, beckoning.

The small man with the dark complexion and large shining eyes stretched out his hand and touched the silk.

He was surrounded by the sound of pebbles falling into a pond and leaves rattling on the ground.

His hand, then his elbow, his arm, his shoulder and his chest were slowly covered with the soft touch of the silken cloth.

He felt tired so he sat down and drifted off to asleep.


There is a path by a stream that flows on the side of a forest.

In the forest two trees form an arch.

Beyond the arch is a rock in the shape of a small man with large eyes.

By the rock there is a soft sound, like that of small pebbles falling into a pond and the rattling of leaves on the ground.

Every so often it seems as if the rock makes a tiny movement and you will feel watched.

You may imagine a young women whispering your name.

Perhaps it is just the wind.

Monday, January 19, 2009

Beyond The Mountain Range

On the other side of the mountain range there lives a wise old crow.

Few who have heard whispers of his existence have risked finding him.

They have returned disillusioned saying he is a myth.

They pick up their lives where they left off; nothing happened; nothing will happen.

A young boy left many moons ago but has not been heard of since. Nobody cares and he is soon forgotten.

Old men sometimes tell of a youth who stood up without pride and stated simply: “I am a warrior”.

A voice replied: “That is all”.

Beyond the mountain range there are two wise old crows.

Saturday, January 17, 2009

Beauty is in the Eye of the Beholder

I always liked that phrase though it brought thoughts of very odd couples. In the rush of life I find that many things are taken for granted. Things that surround us and even people – and the important things become matter of fact.

So I have decided to make particular note of something new each day.

  • It can be a new sight, or an old ignored sight.
  • It can be a smell, a sound, a face, a thought, a contact.
  • It can be friends seen in a new light, old songs .
In fact anything that can open my mind and heart to the beauty of life and help me build my goals and make me a better person.

Wednesday, January 14, 2009

Dreams of Writing a Book

At one time or another just about everyone wants to write a book. And a successful one at that. But for most of us this ends up in the “wanting to” dreamland and not in the “I have” real world.

And then again most people have too many things in the WT Dreamland and put things off continuously. Procrastination is widespread and yet postponing things is an action of not doing and a state of mind.

So finally, with all that been said, as I want to write a book a large dose of discipline is needed, mixed with the goal of getting in touch with reality.

And by the way Dreamland is a very inspiring place to be, I just have to remember to land on my feet again and pursue my imaginary line.