Sometimes writing is so good that you just have to reblog it….


There is beauty in this world that hides behind and beneath the worn stone edifices that people don’t see, and which they ignore as they pass between point A and point B pursuing some menial little task of their daily life. Like a dandelion growing in the crack in my street in the summer, or a wild flower that creeps along the grimy concrete of a house wall, or an idea that light up a worn old face.

Maybe that idea is a memory, or a plan, or a course of action, but the force of the idea transforms the humdrum of routine into an adventure. It is not a force that can be reduced to the mathematics of atoms and molecules, and it can’t be measured by instruments or gauges. But it has power, that idea, that beauty, and it can propel the little bit of the world that…

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