...Journals are more of a journey of trailing thoughts of whim. At the moment, what I feel translated into words to parlay some message. Sometimes obvious, sometimes vague - even to myself. As a reader, join me on that journey and perhaps help me to...
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...each of us, a jar. Born empty yet the potential to fill that limited space that will be our life with the experiences that will shape the rocks of our time. Yet, the spaces between those rocks, pebbles, stones, even bits of sand that all are the moments that make us who were are, will also be filled. What is it that we choose to fill the emptiness in between the rough and polished stones, colorful and drab rocks, jagged and smooth pebbles, the small and large moments? Those empty spaces count too - they are the days of routine. They are the evening of dinners and the nights of sleepy eyes that, once again open to a morning of another empty space to fill.
As the jar continues to accumulate more, getting ever so close to the top, we peer over and look at the twilight of out lives - for no jar is forever. Eventually, we can fit in no more stones. All that is left is the bit of space for the mundane. The same mundane we have been day in and day out, placing in those empty mazes between the wonderful experiences.
What will your empty spaces contain when your life is fulfilled to its brim?
