I wrote this a few days before moving on my own Next page
Sometimes I spend so much time looking at the ground in front of me that I never notice all the good things around me. I’m so afraid to give up any of the past, that I never see what’s good in the present. It was amazing also to note that I saw so many more good things on the way out than on the way back home.
July 6, 1997
Looking at My Feet
The blue sky, the clouds
daisies beside the road
Old ladies laughing.
Old fence post, corn growing.
Children playing in their yard.
The cool wind on my face.
The smile and greeting of a stranger.
A silo through the trees.
Two men baling hay.
a happy heart.
Hope for the future,
a sigh for the past.
The old barn, old house.
Old house that’s new for the people.
Fresh homemade pie.
A helping hand.
Caterpillar crossing the road.
Two butterflies dancing.
It is a beautiful day.
And I’m stuck trying to make
the past my dream and keep
it alive. Why? Fear?
We both became victims of a fallen dream.
Of a promise that money would bring victory.
Why the need to show the world,
when the world has so much to show us.
Life isn’t so bad.
We make it bad, by hanging onto things
that don’t make us happy.
Maybe it’s the fear of failure… keep trying
‘til you get it right.
But what is failure?
Not succeeding on every task you attempt?
Or is success realizing that all tasks you
partake in are not fit for this much energy?
Could it be that I’m caught in an attempt to
succeed in everything I’ve ever attempted?
How is that reasonable? No wonder I’m not happy.
How can one know what we want to succeed in
if we never try anything new?
How could I be so wrapped up in my life,
that I’ve never once desired to stop along
the way and meet my neighbors?
What is the fear?
Is there really a commitment involved in
asking anyone to skate or walk along side me for an hour?
No wonder I haven’t been able to see the beauty in the world,
when I’ve been looking down at my feet.