I am an open book, or am i ?
As the pages turn i am reminded of past forgotten events.
Am i what has been crafted by these pages, or am i become despite these events.
The covers of this book wrinkle and crack each time the book is opened in continual reference.
Is it just me that writes on these pages, is it just me that says what can be added?
In truth do i have any say at all? Are the pages to be filled with others myriad graffitti? Or is that the point?
Do i have a ghost writer who pens my biography? My choice to allow someone elses version of my story on to these pages.
I think, now moment by moment, i must choose to write my own theme, I must choose to play the leading role.
This is no staged drama, this is real! Each moment is a notch that cannot be removed. So i must choose to write the truth, to tell the tale for real. There is no possibility of editing, cutting out the parts that no longer suit the story.
We are who we are because of what has come before, like it or not. Each encounter shaping the manifestation you see before you in the mirror.
So does your book cover reveal the nature of it’s contents; do you live your life as an open book? Not so that others can judge, but so others can take heart. Provide a signpost that points to the truth of mankind. Not as an idol or authority, but a nurturer, carer, unconditionally loving and accepting of the infinite variety of pathways that are presented in this world.
It matters not what others think, that is for them. It is not for me to usurp anothers thoughts as my own, the clothes will inevitably never fit correctly. You can maybe admire the style, but you have to “step out” in your own attire.
Grab each moment to be you, not to impress or strut, but to live within your own heart.
So open the pages, take out your pen and write the heart felt truth….. it will be a bestseller! Remember no-one else can write it for you.
To you as a creator of paths, Deepest blessings. may your passport never lapse out of date. _/|\_ Namaste