Where would that be? Lighthearted environment where pleasures abound…What do you dream of doing?… My dream would be to get up and not have to talk, do a little gardening, play the piano, read a book, go out to eat, take a bath, watch a movie, go to sleep and not get up until I’m ready to. Walk on the beach alone, lay on the beach and listen to the waves, smell the salt air and feel the breeze. Find a beach bar with steel drums and drink Mount Gay and lime in the slight shade of a palm tree while digging my toes into the cool, damp, squeaky, white sand. Take a hike in the woods, go to sleep in a tent and wake up to the sound of birds and the smell of the trees. Sit on a rock in the middle of a stream and listen to the water play over the stones. Just for awhile.
Celestial Soda Pop
[Adjust Your Aspirations]
by Curative Energy
Subscribe by Email
Categories
Archives
Blogroll
RSS Links
4 Comments
I say–Do it! Don’t wait. Follow your dreams.
Think–what would happen if I were to die? The world and the family would go on, right? Well, it will also go on if you take off on a vacation to your dream place. Don’t wait until there is no time left.
I plan on following my dreams–no matter where they take me–and I am going to do it before I get too old.
Good advice. Simple pleasures shouldn’t be difficult to access. Of course, I’d like to append that one shouldn’t take un-deliberated flight when children are involved.
It seems that our dreams are made of things from our past.
Camp Creek, West Virginia? Hearing all the birds–start one by one as if they were in an orchestra.
Steel drums and Mount Gay? Bahamas?–
These things don’t cost much money. Much of it is free. Yet, these are the things we remember.
It’s nice to know that our pasts are to be dreamed of, isn’t it? The wonderful days we remember and want to recapture… Today, I recalled days gone by. I was going into the mall with my three youngest kids, to get my cellphone looked at. The day was light, with a lifting warm breeze, low humidity, bright sun, a seagull calling out, and the distinct smell of french fries and hamburgers hung in my nostrils. I was suddenly transported back to the squeaky white sand on Pass-a-grille Beach; a child who knew the sites, smells, and sounds intimately. It was the best of the best for us, long before camping days with the family. We couldn’t afford the burgers and fries, but the smell was quite titillating, and only meant a richer flavor to the salt air and water we breathed and smelled. We watched as the seagulls dived, and hovered, and argued childishly over the scraps unknowing tourists would throw to them. We would never do that as we were aware of what their droppings did to us and our belongings. Our food was our food, thankyou very much. I described the memory to my children as I breathed in deeply, holding my breath and memories for as long as possible.
You’re correct. The things we remember are the very things we can reminesce over or dream of having again.