"While Eeyore frets ...
... and Piglet hesitates
... and Rabbit calculates
... and Owl pontificates
...Pooh just is.
This is one of my favorite books and one of my favorite passages. When I first read this book, I was caught by the first couple of lines and I knew I wanted to better my life. "Pooh just is..." This is a great place to be.
How can you get very far if you don't know who you are?
How can you do what you ought if you don't know what you have got?
And if you don't know which to do
Of all the things in front of you
Then what you will have when you are through
Is just a mess without a clue
Of all the best that can come true
If you know what and which and who
During this holiday season, when the majestic snow covers in beautiful simplicity; I take stock in the questions of Who and What and Why and Where -- but the snow slows this contemplation at times and calls me to be. Be. Just be. The snow knows no path, it does not question, it does not stress - it falls, it covers and we marvel at the perfection within. The perfection - a strong word to use, but nonetheless, adequate. Much like Pooh, the snow shifts and glides; lifts up and takes it's place within a spectrum of knowledge of it's destiny.
This is where I want to be.
... and Piglet hesitates
... and Rabbit calculates
... and Owl pontificates
...Pooh just is.
This is one of my favorite books and one of my favorite passages. When I first read this book, I was caught by the first couple of lines and I knew I wanted to better my life. "Pooh just is..." This is a great place to be.
How can you get very far if you don't know who you are?
How can you do what you ought if you don't know what you have got?
And if you don't know which to do
Of all the things in front of you
Then what you will have when you are through
Is just a mess without a clue
Of all the best that can come true
If you know what and which and who
During this holiday season, when the majestic snow covers in beautiful simplicity; I take stock in the questions of Who and What and Why and Where -- but the snow slows this contemplation at times and calls me to be. Be. Just be. The snow knows no path, it does not question, it does not stress - it falls, it covers and we marvel at the perfection within. The perfection - a strong word to use, but nonetheless, adequate. Much like Pooh, the snow shifts and glides; lifts up and takes it's place within a spectrum of knowledge of it's destiny.
This is where I want to be.
