Don't play with it

I just had the most poetic shower moment. I was gazing through the small bathroom window facing the southern end of the island, looking at the sky. Today was the ideal sleep-in day with all the rain that's been falling. The river outside my window was raging... yes, yes... Ideal sleep-in weather. Strangely enough whilst the clouds behind the house are still grey and gloomy, to the south of the island the clouds are like white etches in the sky with some blue peeking out...

After one time is another.

In that sole moment, that was the only thought that entered my head - 'After one time is another'... Everything in life follows a rhythm, a series of beats. There's pause between each beat - some pauses longer than others, but nuntheless a pause. It is in those pauses one becomes reminiscent or nostalgic or depressed or hopeful or optimisitic. It is in those moments when the beat stops momentarily that the brain stops the action momentarily and official thought registers. This pause feels like a collision course sometimes, but it's always most enlightening. It's a near overdose of that cliché 'seeing things in perspective'. It's the moment of the real epiphanies.

It's in these breaks we just stop and think. Most of the time, not because we want to, but because there's nothing else when life pulls to a halt. As the beat is about to begin, two options presents themselves. Those two options are, shall the rhythm continue as it was before? Are you satisfied with the rhythm your life is dancing to? The pace? The intensity? The direction? The mood? OR... shall the beat be changed up a bit? Shall it be altered somewhat? And you determine that definition of the amount of what 'somewhat' entails...

Hmm.. rhythms... rhythms with the patterns/habits you form, the friends you make, the words you speak, the music you listen to, the dreams you have, the thoughts you allow... they're all rhythms... Life is full of rhythms...

The rhythm of the raindrops dripping on the leaves... coinciding with the footsteps crushing the grass... that "shh's" with every step stepping... in the direction towards the river's edge... where the rhythm of the sound is that of a continuous, fast-paced, yet soothing rhythm.

***

Guess what?

I've lost my voice. Thus, that means I'm sick - again.
hmm...

Shelli out.