WHAT MY MOTHER SHOWED ME...
On a scale of truth, reasons and excuses are far from being the same thing.
Once in a while I compare myself to water, soft enough to go with the flow, and at other times tough enough to drown whatever gets in my way.
Sometimes not only do you have to look through your mother's eyes, but you have to be your mother's age to understand the things that haunt her.
Unlike my mother who couldn't stand a mess, I have learned to let objects rest, to let dust rest, to let the world rest, and to vigorously, if necessary, stand at arms against almost every pop-up of petty self-abasement.
It's OK to fail at something and be OK with it.
Ordinary stillness serves a purpose.
Everyone carries a package all their life, tightly folded, hidden from the world.
Beware of too much, too little. The same that buoys can sink.
A nature walk is the most simple form of science.
Comfort can come from an open field, but also from fences that are high enough.
Beware of those hawking bargain affection from the back seat of their cars.
Kind silence can sometimes heal a hurt that conversation could make worse.
Recommend bad movies as a form of revenge.