hmm...
"We are half-hearted creatures, fooling about with drink and sex and ambition when infinite joy is offered us, like an ignorant child who wants to go on making mud pies in a slum because he cannot imagine what is meant by the offer of a holiday at the sea. We are far too easily pleased.”
So, I am friends with someone who is a pastor at a church, and sometimes she comes up with these quotes, and amazing things, and sometimes it makes me want to expound on it differently from where she was going. That is her quote above from a book, which I can’t remember who she said wrote.
We had discussed this quite at length on our short walk from our apartments to the club house. We talked about how we “as common folk” take for granite that we work and play with little money to go either way, and don’t go further with our thoughts. Now there are some extremist that do live life to the fullest, that push at the envelope a bit further, but there are others of us, that sit and wait it out. They truly never really jump in. And more along the lines; just sit on the edge of life, in the backyard making those mud pies, and they are so happy and so content about it, that they never really think about making those mud pies in other places, other regions of the vast world.
I do believe that most people sit and drink, and play with sex as a toy. Instead of looking for something much more, something hard to define. Something more meaningful, beneficial; finding real love, the everlasting kind between friends & family that blossoms into something so strong it seems or feels it could never break. I think sex is a blinder. A fragile shell that coats a “one night stand;” a tease if you will, on the dreams and hopes of love between two people.
I have friends that I love, and would do anything for that indulge in drinking too much, that have meaningless sex. Sometimes I find it hard to understand, but yet get sorted into the fold with them. They say you are what you hang out with, so does that make me as much of a whore. Does that make me a prostitute? A tease, in which, because I do not give out my goodies candidly enough to others? Am I marked with the invisible ink that only other people can see because it’s like a siren or calling card. Does that make me less of a woman?
I’m tired of sitting in the slums making those mud pies. I’m tired of sitting in the sand, and using different techniques, containers, and different ingredients to make that mud. I do not want to think about the different ratios of sand to water I have to use to get the perfect consistency to life. Isn’t that a tease? Because what happens one day when you’ve worked all day making those pies, that it rains, or a hurricane comes through and swipes everything you ever had away. What happens when that significant other you enjoy having sex with moves on to someone else, or dies? The link that leaves that can never get brought back.
I’d rather have that day at a beach, or weekend in the sun learning, reflecting. Something, that I could go back to in my memory where I can say that I did something meaningful. I saw something different. I want to claim that I know the sound that the oceans makes, or the sound of the water makes as it hits the shore. I want to shout about knowing what the birds and children sounds like, the laughter of a toddler learning how to swim and splash around. I want to learn how to love someone so completely that I do not know where they began and where I left off.
So how does one learn to stop drinking, having sex, making mud pies, and going on that trip to the holiday of the ocean? And one would wonder, why can’t they have it all, and still enjoy themselves, soaking up everything in one big swoop, than learning the lessons of each?
So, I am friends with someone who is a pastor at a church, and sometimes she comes up with these quotes, and amazing things, and sometimes it makes me want to expound on it differently from where she was going. That is her quote above from a book, which I can’t remember who she said wrote.
We had discussed this quite at length on our short walk from our apartments to the club house. We talked about how we “as common folk” take for granite that we work and play with little money to go either way, and don’t go further with our thoughts. Now there are some extremist that do live life to the fullest, that push at the envelope a bit further, but there are others of us, that sit and wait it out. They truly never really jump in. And more along the lines; just sit on the edge of life, in the backyard making those mud pies, and they are so happy and so content about it, that they never really think about making those mud pies in other places, other regions of the vast world.
I do believe that most people sit and drink, and play with sex as a toy. Instead of looking for something much more, something hard to define. Something more meaningful, beneficial; finding real love, the everlasting kind between friends & family that blossoms into something so strong it seems or feels it could never break. I think sex is a blinder. A fragile shell that coats a “one night stand;” a tease if you will, on the dreams and hopes of love between two people.
I have friends that I love, and would do anything for that indulge in drinking too much, that have meaningless sex. Sometimes I find it hard to understand, but yet get sorted into the fold with them. They say you are what you hang out with, so does that make me as much of a whore. Does that make me a prostitute? A tease, in which, because I do not give out my goodies candidly enough to others? Am I marked with the invisible ink that only other people can see because it’s like a siren or calling card. Does that make me less of a woman?
I’m tired of sitting in the slums making those mud pies. I’m tired of sitting in the sand, and using different techniques, containers, and different ingredients to make that mud. I do not want to think about the different ratios of sand to water I have to use to get the perfect consistency to life. Isn’t that a tease? Because what happens one day when you’ve worked all day making those pies, that it rains, or a hurricane comes through and swipes everything you ever had away. What happens when that significant other you enjoy having sex with moves on to someone else, or dies? The link that leaves that can never get brought back.
I’d rather have that day at a beach, or weekend in the sun learning, reflecting. Something, that I could go back to in my memory where I can say that I did something meaningful. I saw something different. I want to claim that I know the sound that the oceans makes, or the sound of the water makes as it hits the shore. I want to shout about knowing what the birds and children sounds like, the laughter of a toddler learning how to swim and splash around. I want to learn how to love someone so completely that I do not know where they began and where I left off.
So how does one learn to stop drinking, having sex, making mud pies, and going on that trip to the holiday of the ocean? And one would wonder, why can’t they have it all, and still enjoy themselves, soaking up everything in one big swoop, than learning the lessons of each?