Is now the summer of my discontent ?
Dear Monty,
17/5/13 The darling buds break and my mind swirls in a strange fog.
The trees are theatrically lit - silver, lime green, yellow, gold and red - wine red - a wine gum luminescence.
There is blue reflecting off the path stones - I am content.
To me this garden is as good as Allt-y-Bela, but I am no Arne Maynard.
I watch as it develops - like a slow motion film.
I realise that discontent breeds unhappiness - it is a spiralling path to a place of shadows where living becomes just functioning.
The more I am discontent - the more miserable I become - I look for what I believe I deserve but cannot find it.
When I saw the garden this morning it reminded me why I started writing letters to you, I too have the privilege of having a space where I can breathe. My jewels are scattered but they radiate to a level that pleases my eye.
The more content we are with whatever we have the happier we are.
Paul.
17/5/13 The darling buds break and my mind swirls in a strange fog.
The trees are theatrically lit - silver, lime green, yellow, gold and red - wine red - a wine gum luminescence.
There is blue reflecting off the path stones - I am content.
To me this garden is as good as Allt-y-Bela, but I am no Arne Maynard.
I watch as it develops - like a slow motion film.
I realise that discontent breeds unhappiness - it is a spiralling path to a place of shadows where living becomes just functioning.
The more I am discontent - the more miserable I become - I look for what I believe I deserve but cannot find it.
When I saw the garden this morning it reminded me why I started writing letters to you, I too have the privilege of having a space where I can breathe. My jewels are scattered but they radiate to a level that pleases my eye.
The more content we are with whatever we have the happier we are.
Paul.
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