When you are young your life is full of dreams of what the future might hold for you. Most of us dream of being the master of our fate and the captain of our soul. As age catches up with us we often settle for being the master of our weight and the captain of the dominoes team. Such is the way of life and the dreams of youth.
I have spent a great deal of my life dreaming of the hopes of what I might accomplish at the same time aware that the great sages of life tell me that this world and life is but a dream. I have spent some time today thinking about just this.
When we arise on a foggy morning, or in Scotland a morning covered with sea haar, the hills obscured the trees and buildings appear as diaphanous apparitions, we might be tempted to agree with the sages of old that all life is but a dream.
The memories of the past and the dreams of today blend and turn into some kind of fantasy.
While here in France I frequently awake to this wonderful dream that I cannot escape from.
But in the midst of the dream, the bee-eater bird is still calling out loud and clear. Never does the singing and calling stop. When everything else seems to be frozen in a moment, in the chapel of the dawn, this little bird continues to call. Maybe he/she is in the same dream but protests loudly that life is a reality.
In the midst of all of this is the inner reality of being alive and the clock of time has just awakened us to a new day. Life for each of us might often seem a dream but day by day we awake to a new reality of wondrous expectation. Why dream when we can experience the joys of life and friendship.
Oh to be a daydreamer again, but real life beckons. Have a marvellous day.
My painting was painted immediately after a very early morning walk. There is a world of wonder that is not a dream.
I have just noticed this is blog 800 of a continuous series of writing, I am wondering if this is a good point at which to stop boring people?
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