“You’ll never find peace by looking for it outside of yourself, as it is a self-generated experience. So, the next time you want it go within rather than elsewhere.”
These autumn days are spent on twilight’s edge.
Today crossing the boundary of tomorrow.
Each leaf crumbles.
Before it passes,
it spins golden threads to catch the light,
and gives its last wish to the earth.
Like the caterpillar,
it transforms into new life.
It rises as a reed, flower, or berry,
or sings on the breeze as kind music heard by those in need of the season’s solace.
The sun beamed in the garden. Heat rose from every leaf and grass blade as I busily stuffed morsels of bread down the gullets of my new pets. Esmerelda and Felix were neither impressed with their meal nor repelled.
No doubt, this was because they were six-inch rubber toy crocodiles. As far as the five-year-old me knew they were real, and I loved them. I fed them to keep them alive.
Later I was to discover even adults keep crocodiles. Only theirs are not playthings. Rather, they’re stories about the world, based not on facts, but on emotional misconceptions.
When we’re unhappy, we look outside ourselves, seeking someone or something to blame for our anger or sadness. Often, though, we’re upset because of the tall tales we tell ourselves about what’s going on. …