There’s always a reason why seemingly random things arrive when and as they do.
The prompt intruded with, “Define heartbreak.” My mind immediately went skittering here and there, banging off other ideas like carom rings on a polished board. Then, just as quickly, I recalled something that a Facebook friend sent yesterday.
I thought to myself, “Self? That is a skookum definition! I was puzzled as to what, exactly, to do with it. Let’s share it.” Almost always taciturn, I agreed: “Yes–let’s.”
See what you think. After you think, that is. It may take you several readings to let this truth get comfortable with your spirit.
Seriously. Slow down.
YOU START DYING SLOWLY
You start dying slowly if you do not travel, if you do not read, if you do not listen to the sounds of life, if you do not appreciate yourself.
You start dying slowly when you kill your self-esteem, when you do not let others help you.
You start dying slowly if you become a slave to your habits, walking every day on the same paths . . . if you do not change your routine, if you do not wear different colors or you do not speak to those you don’t know.
You start dying slowly if you avoid to feel passion and its turbulent emotions, those that make your eyes glisten and your heart beat fast.
You start dying slowly if you do not change your life when you are not satisfied with your job, or with your love, or with your surroundings.
You start dying slowly if you do not risk what is safe for the uncertain, if you do not go after a dream, if you do not allow yourself, at least once in your lifetime to run away from sensible advice.
Pablo Neruda was the pen name and, later, legal name of the Chilean poet-diplomat and politician Ricardo Eliécer Neftalí Reyes Basoalto. He derived his pen name from the Czech poet Jan Neruda. Neruda won the Nobel Prize for Literature in 1971.
© 2nd Cup of Coffee