Enga mellom fjella

I had a dream

...now scattered thoughts, my words mere wisps of memory, an echo sought.

Me:

I have dawned as dull as the day. A bit down. Dragged my *** out of bed after a night of disturbing dreams. Not good. Fortunately, I have no obligations or responsibilities. I'll continue with my plan to get this place together before I leave so it welcomes me upon my return.

Letting go and paying forward:

Everything has a season. In the north this is obvious. Less so here. I must plant my cuttings in the garden, not concern myself whether any will be here upon my return. I must gift some plants as well. I gave the impatiens a haircut last night. I've replanted some of the portulaca.

They have had their season. When I come back I must buy new plants and start new cuttings. I know this. In the north, winter forces the gardener to let go. Here the choices are not so obvious.

The Dream:

For years I had a party on this day in commemoration of Martin Luther King's "I have a dream" speech of August 28, 1963. Next year will mark the 50th anniversary.

Wiki, about the speech: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/I_Have_a_Dream
The speech: http://www.americanrhetoric.com/speeches/mlkihaveadream.htm

MLK was 34 when he gave one of the most stirring speeches of the century. At age 35 he was awarded the Nobel Peace Prize. He lived to be 39. He'd be 83 today.

I'm 60; my mother is 90.

Maybe, it's not how long you live ...it's how powerful you dream...

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