I decided to participate in yesterday’s prosery for dVerse in which Lillian asks us to use one of two lines in Carl Sandburg’s Jazz Fantasia. My text has absolutely nothing to do with his fabulous poem. I chose “Moan like an autumn wind high in the lonesome treetops”. I did write it last night, then decided to wait until today to post, feeling it needed more fine-tuning. Needless to say, I played with it so much, I fear I buggered it up completely. Or maybe not. I’m putting it out there anyway!
I hike, breathing in the clean, crisp mountain air, revelling in my sense of being, as they say, one with nature. I wonder why I don’t allow myself to do this more often. To just be. To occasionally let go of all the musts, shoulds and needs that seem to take over everyday life. Why do we do that? Why don’t we take the time for ourselves? I know I was not taught to put myself last. Our family did not do this type of teaching, despite many hours of discussing pretty much everything.
I often read of people saying their parent taught them this lesson or that. I don’t. I sometimes wonder if I was simply not paying attention. Before I know it, I moan like an autumn wind high in the lonesome treetops, then howl, releasing restrictions I now know were self-imposed.