It was a cold night as New York prepared itself for the oncoming Nor’easter. My Seattle jacket was barely sufficient and I thank the excitement for warming me the rest of the way. Even the French were better prepared.
|
|||||||
|
I have a spot reserved in my heart for the small voice that speaks at the exact moment the yammering crowd silences –when the noise parts and the small voice says the thing everyone is to afraid to say—and usually the last thing I want to admit. by Jill MacGregor The measure of who we are is what we do with what we have. ~Vince Lombardi
I have found myself running into the girl I used to be lately. You may think that must mean some carefree version of myself, untethered by serious adult themes but that would not be the case. I have been practicing being strong with my least strong part. My weakest part. I map its boundaries, feel out it’s yes and no and then try to push past… I’m learning a big lesson right now, I think. About fighting. I love to fight—fight for what’s right—or better—fight to BE right. Uno mas, por favor. ENOUGH. We could all use a kingmaker. That influencer who initiates or completes action for our benefit. The muscle who ensures that things get done for us. You are a puzzle, my friend, a fascinating puzzle. You are one surprise after another, just like those crazy Russian nesting dolls. You’ve been clever and intricate with how you’ve bound up that heart of yours. |
|||||||
|
Copyright © 2013 an agent of change - All Rights Reserved |
|||||||
