Hospital waiting room. Blocks of time and nowhere to go. Killing time. Should be writing, but can't
concentrate. Everyone stacked and racked in chairs is a story, has a story, and is awaiting a happy ending. I took notes on expectant faces - ultimately grinning from relief, or crumpled in grief
.
Family members leafed
lackadais-
ically
through magazines, or read book pages
without
comprehen-
sion.
I kept my journal open and remembering fields of colors - gorgeous flowers from the aboretum -attempted to turn a phrase or create a happier place.
Surely a poem would erupt from my brain onto the page inspired by the plant name Poet's Laurel.
Alas, I sqandered time. It was there ... the clock ticking on the wall, the butt in the chair, the paper, and the pen.
But, at least, I got to smile at good news and now the fingers fly across the keyboard -free from worry, and eager to capture a few memorable characters.
Spring fever this week, and my blog keeps asking for flower pictures. Reflect on the joy and beauty. Cogitate and churn words into a poetry waterfall. Or just sit and dream.
Happiness is neither virtue nor pleasure, nor this thing not that, but simply growth - W.B.Yeats
To do nothing at all is the most difficult thing in the world, the most difficult and the most intellectual - Oscar Wilde
You must have a room, or a certain hour or so a day, where you don't know what was in the newspapers that morning ... a place where you can simply experience and bring forth what you are and what you might be - Joseph Campbell
Realize deeply that the present moment is all that you have - Eckhart Tolle
