Once in a while, there are posts in my Facebook wall that really capture my attention. Thoughts, ideas and stories that make me think and say to myself: “This is worth reading. I’m happy I checked my FB wall today.”
I am talking about a short piece by writer, Courtney A. Walsh called “Dear Human”.
You’ve got it all wrong.
You didn’t come here to master unconditional love. This is where you came from and where you’ll return.
You came here to learn personal love.
Infused with divinity.
Lived through the grace of stumbling.
Demonstrated through the beauty of… messing up.
You didn’t come here to be perfect, you already are.
You came here to be gorgeously human. Flawed and fabulous.
And rising again into remembering.
But unconditional love? Stop telling that story.
Love in truth doesn’t need any adjectives.
It doesn’t require modifiers.
It doesn’t require the condition of perfection.
It only asks you to show up.
And do your best.
That you stay present and feel fully.
That you shine and fly and laugh and cry and hurt and heal and fall and get back up and play and work and live and die as YOU.
― Courtney A. Walsh
A few weeks ago, I stumbled upon the quote below. These words really resonated with me.
“Here’s to the crazy ones, the misfits, the rebels, the troublemakers, the round pegs in the square holes… the ones who see things differently — they’re not fond of rules… You can quote them, disagree with them, glorify or vilify them, but the only thing you can’t do is ignore them because they change things… they push the human race forward, and while some may see them as the crazy ones, we see genius, because the ones who are crazy enough to think that they can change the world, are the ones who do.” — Steve Jobs
Do you know someone who you consider to be a “crazy one, a misfit, rebel, troublemaker, a round peg in a square hole”? How did they change your world?
Are you one yourself? How is the world changed because of who you are and what you did?
In the early evening
when light comes in
through the sheer curtain
in the room.
how the sunlight
I watch scenes
in my cul-de-sac.
Lovers holding hands.
A mother pushing her twins in a buggy.
A dad talking on the phone
as his young son pedals his red bike
with training wheels.
An elderly man, his shoulders stooped,
rummaging in the recycling box
on my neighbour’s curb.
I watch the world outside
filtered through the lens
who I am
who I was
where I come from
where I want to be.
I witness the world outside
how the sun
with its light.