Now that the Summer is over…

delicious-smoked-salmon

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“When I was five, I am told, and asked what my favorite things in the world were, I answered, ‘smoked salmon and Bach.’ (Now, sixty years later, my answer would be the same).”
― Oliver Sacks

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When I was five

I do not need to be told

and would not listen even if I was told

because by then I’d learned that listening

to what others told you

about yourself

could lead you astray

from yourself

(I often forgot this lesson)

that one of my favourite things in the world

was smoked salmon

I could eat it by the cartload

although that is not the proper way to eat such a delicacy

according to others

telling me so

repeatedly

(they also did not like my taste for wet toothpicks dipped in salt and sucked)

as for Bach…

I preferred Beethoven’s

sonata of bumble bees

which reminded me of

the sounds of others

telling you who you are

according to them

no one ever asked me

these sort of questions

about what I favoured

because

they didn’t want my answer

they preferred their own for me

which were perhaps less expensive

for them

smoked salmon for me evokes

rebellion

and the pleasure of it

for Steve it speaks of

New Year’s celebration

which is similar

perhaps…

as the New Year rebels against the old

with resolutions

that are supposed to bring personal revolutions

Now that the Summer is over…

according to the Autumn Equinox

telling me so

it’s time to reign in

our energies

and spend them more

wisely

as the Sun become less generous

with its presence

and makes us

appreciate it more

Steve and I thought

(oh, dear, this thinking thing is so dangerous when in the wrong minds)

we’d start our challenges again

so the first challenge is

share something

you loved as a five year old

should be simple

will probably get complicated

as our five year old self

is always present

in the adult

even when we don’t believe

in having an inner child

(and adults always complicate matters for children)

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“Every act of perception, is to some degree an act of creation, and every act of memory is to some degree an act of imagination.”
― Oliver Sacks