Somewhere new to explore.
A new viewpoint.
A bright fresh land.
Trails to ride.
The things that I dream of. Reality and metaphor hand in hand.
Physical and emotional. Conscious and unconscious.
Much hangs upon 2013. Meeting the mother whom I last encountered forty-eight years ago. That's my great hope, the aspiration that has flown like a buzzard circling, mewing, vigilant....
Compared to that other hopes are small, necessarily so. The novel that I've been working on. Learning to sing and, in due course, to play an instrument. Performing for the first time at a friendly festival....
Hope, always hope. I've lived, despaired and flown into exile. Today I'm in exile from exile. If I've learned one thing, it's to be hopeful. Indeed that lesson is cemented. I have hope.
The peculiar thing is that as I explore I find new viewpoints. The land seems bright and fresh, from time to time anyway. There are trails, and even familiar ways bring joy.
Now after a few days sheltering indoors just because it's raining outside I reproach myself. It's time to be out there, on the road, exploring and experiencing. It's time to grab hold of hope and exercise it.
It's time to take a good horse and ride....
Ah yes, nothing like a Good Horse to Ride.....
Happy New Year, I hope your plans come together and work out for the best.
Posted by: Shirley | January 01, 2013 at 01:15 AM
i felt the first stirrings of what can only be hope last week. finally. there is something beyond my current darkness. the hope for real hope, i feel it.
Posted by: lytha | January 08, 2013 at 01:05 PM
Hi Lytha, I am glad that you are starting to feel better. There is hope always, just sometimes it's hard to see. The darkest moments fall in the cold quiet hour before dawn.
Posted by: White Horse Pilgrim | January 08, 2013 at 11:40 PM