In one season there are blooms and in a year there is life.
It’s been a while since I wrote like this on empty sheets and blank slates a stream of consciousness. One of the kindest writing styles—letting my soul get blanketed in the black and whites of the paper. You were sad and possibly nostalgic, yet I felt whole even in the emptiness and the dark of the night around us. Sometimes the balance of the light and the night seems offset, but at least you’re there in the morrow to see the sun rise.
I recall snowy nights and long and lonely walks full of joy and sadness in the glitter of the snow and the chill of the crisp air against my coat. Did you know that in the loneliness exists the bittersweet breath of life? You can only be lonely after experiencing the delight of another kindred soul making its way in the universe with you. Man… this universe is large, but somehow our world is the size of a corridor winding around itself. So many memories and so many thoughts that brought me back to life on this odd night. How is it that everything seems okay lately even when the world is tearing itself apart?
I saw your failing ventures and smiled—the thought of you leaping out of comfort and trying something new brought me joy. I saw success in the small moments where creativity blossomed like cherry red blossoms on the tree. Thank you, world, for bringing love after death and bringing life from the soil. Thank you for the tears that fall from my eyes in bittersweet emotion as my eyes stay hydrated. Thank you for the breath in a quiet room and the beats of music playing in my ears.
And if you’re sad, just know that you will still remain…loved…imprinted in the hearts of others. Hike your mountains and walk your winding roads. Make good and bad choices, but keep going. Whether or not I remain here today or tomorrow, my will will stay in the air as it fills your lungs. There are so many ways to love and I love so many times.
You are loved,
Hellen M. Barroso
You had your drink and I had my things and together it made for turmoil. I was so tired and you full of desire that there was little left to show. Some god must have known how to have thrown in the towel as we sat patiently waiting. Then life caught up and anger welled as we were fraught with tension.
There were little things to hate here and there, yet nothing could equate to the frustrating fares of this life. I only remember hating the drinks and you being done with my things until the next morning.
When the tree gets it’s limbs cut off, it grows new ones in different places. That tells you two things: 1) it continued to grow after facing adversity and 2) it learned from the experience enough to grow in new ways.
The trees with their stressed limbs still stretched towards the sky in taut poses knowing that if they keep looking up, they’ll keep growing strong. I sat and quietly observed as they kept course as the wind swayed them side to side as it tested their resilience. Still they grew.
There is magic all around us, without reserves and in endless pigment. With your mind you crate and with your hands you execute your creations.
With you, my creative soul has soared through skies of pigment and acoustic sound waves. You are my romance, my flamenco song.
Love, your darling Hellen
Feel free to listen to this gem: Sale La Luna- Bulerías by Vicente Soto Sordera 💚
All that rises must at one point set.