“Idealism is a seed of naïveté once planted in a youthful heart that grew into a tree of hopefulness.” – Erika K Rothwell
It’s Monday again. Yes I am moving forward with hope. Yet, my mind stays persistently intertwined with the past. Stuck in an observation mode, I cling to new ideas as if a collection of fine jewelry meant to be coveted rather than worn.
The day seems too simple to be adorned in bright shiny new ideas. So, reflection pulls me deeper into acceptance of my inability to complete any one of my projects in progress and I find an odd sense of comfort in stagnation.
I turn my attention to the view outside my window where the bird couple has landed on the tree branch. I am reminded, once again, of the fleeting moments that pass by my eyes of observation, pleading to be captured in words. However, with the best plan in place, the hours still burn up in the heat of
I reread my words of the past, rediscovered today, in a note written to myself months ago. “Idealism is a seed of naïveté once planted in a youthful heart that grew into a tree of hopefulness.” My daydream is insistent and alive, albeit buried beneath the surface of deeply packed minutia.
A state of reflection along with my strange preoccupation with fantastical imagery, draws me into a centrifuge of swirling thoughts, finding myself unable to categorize or prioritize.
And as the birds fly away, I am left only with the “tree of hopefulness” and a reminder to persevere…
Idealism is flourishing.
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