a toast to "the little garden" and "the little stream"

I received emails from you guys offering me sweet words of encouragement. And a reminder to take it easy, stop rushing around with my eyes ahead set on some clear goal which might yet be unattainable, but to stop and lift my head in the night to see that clear sky, the few sparkly stars and the half moon in its clarity and crystal silvery whiteness. Breathe. Look . And Smile.

Thank you. Thankyou to that moon, in her pure gaze, and the gentle words. Like that moon a symbol of our sisterhood? haha (R U still a v-----?) OF course our sec sch lit text--the Bard calls the moon the chaste godness.

Sometimes, I do tend to sound wallowy, and I do wallow in my miseries sometimes, but that's probably because I do tend to lean towards the 'sad' in my blog. The urge to write becomes all the more strong when I feel sad and need solace.

Li, I love your analogy that your blog is your little garden where you can invite your close friends to share in an opening of the soul. A peep into each other's gardens where they tend their thoughts like flowers in a little private place where we come and sit a while to recharge at our own secret gardens. That's probably why your blog looks like a garden too. (in fact so does Sim's)


I wondered about my own blog, It doesn't look like a garden nor does it feel like one. I call it a universe, but of course it is hardly one, unless it is a self-centered one.

So I thought. I wonder if my blog is not like a stream, a testimony to my instability, my changing moods, an artifact, an output of a moment, a feeling--fleeting but nonetheless real. It reflects my mood. On bright clear days, it shimmer and glow with positive spirit, on breezy days when leaves float past, it speaks of growth and life experiences. Dull days, when the sky is grey, and when there are drizzles, the reflection is distorted. Sometimes pollutants enter, and it grows horribly choked, stagnant--empty of life. ANd that's my blog, sometimes, a dumping ground for bad feelings, sometimes a celebration of life and freindship.

So a toast to "the little garden" of the soul and the spiritual and to the "little stream" which carries through little gems, celebrations, anger, moments. Like the water which flows runs through my life temporarily and ends up in some mysterious place where the past moments perhaps are still real?