I will admit that I wanted to shout for standing on the top of a scaffold in front of a good new wall always goes to my head. It is a sensation something between that of an angel let out of his cage into a new sky and a drunkard turned loose in a royal cellar.And after all, what nobler elevation could you find in this world than the scaffold of a wall painter? No admiral on the bridge of a new battleship designed by the old navy, could feel more pleased with himself than Gulley, on two planks, forty feet above dirt level, with his palette table beside him, his brush in his hand, and the draught blowing up his trousers; cleared for action.
Love heals. If you doubt it, you need more of it. How do you get more of it? By giving more of it.Love is not just for romantic relationships, not just for 'family'. Love is not just for people. Beneath the colourful emotions, socialized behaviours and cultured concepts of being 'partners' in love, love is the recognition of our own soul matter in another being. The more recognition, the greater the degree of attachment. Every body, every living thing on earth is made up of essentially the same energy and particle and spirit matter. Here's the magic. We recognise this bond wherever we look for it. Next time you see a leaf, consider the veins. Next time you're in the company of an animal consider the sensation, (sight, sound, feeling,) of breathing. Look into the eyes of every creature whenever, wherever possible and be open to the recognition of all that we, ourselves are made up of. Take a detailed account of every mother-infant relationship, every friendship, every co-existence, every life bound spirit. It's been said before that love knows no boundaries...
There is a picture of me in their heads, a picture of someone I don't know yet. She is not the chubby girl with the braces and bad perm. She is not the girl hiding in the bathroom at recess. She is someone new, a blank slate they have named beautiful. That is what I am now: beautiful, with this new body and face and hair and clothes. Beautiful, with this erasing of history.
It was an image Melody would never forget. Or was it the emotions the image conjured - hope, excitement, and fear of the unknown, all three tightly braided together, creating a fourth emotion that was impossible to define. She was getting a second chance at happiness and it tickled like swallowing fifty fuzzy caterpillars.
[T]hat old September feeling, left over from school days, of summer passing, vacation nearly done, obligations gathering, books and football in the air ... Another fall, another turned page: there was something of jubilee in that annual autumnal beginning, as if last year's mistakes had been wiped clean by summer.