The sun, old friend, has come around again, cleansing the wintered lands, making me feel younger than I am.
The season of spring is like a crank with one end punched through my heart, winding, winding up my wanderlust.
The puffs of palpable breath that flowered from my lungs in winter air have disappeared, the pale appearance of snow
substituted with sprightly shoots of flora, and I could almost swear that these bones, this flesh, couldn’t keep my
heart from bursting with this bliss. And it’s the shifting of the seasons that stirs up within me a longing for revolutions
and radical alterations. Sometimes we’re ravenous for change, sometimes we shy short of it, however, how often we
all seem to stand and proclaim that we wish to change the world, while we say to one another, and our beloved,
“don’t ever change”. We cannot let our souls be as if bottle corks aimlessly bobbing about in the sea, no, we must
swim, limbs looping through the tides that transform, or sink with the weight of idleness around our ankles like
brimming sandbags. For we are, in a mammoth amount, what makes the world, and thus, to mend the tears in
the earth’s woven ways, we must also tend to the tapestries of our hearts, and live aligning to our wishes for
ourselves, for the world. If we want change, we must show the way. And I wish not to waste away the days in
the name of engraved green slips of printed papers. Currency can only buy what will be lost; possessing and
buying merely bears forth an euphoria like an injection of heroin, addictive, enslaving in the way it can saturate
your soul with synthetic shots of ecstasy. Love them, these rectangle folds of paper, these fabrics that fit over
your frame, these jewels that drip down your collarbone, love them, these luminously lit screens, these luxuries,
love them, if you will, yet know that they can never return your love. And I wish, most of all, to do all that makes me
feel alive and joyous deep down inside, the rest - the money, the expectations, the scorn of society - be damned.
If settling in amongst the social norms, and climbing cooperate ladders, and clocking-in and clocking-out, if whatever
it is you do, isn’t what makes your veins ripple in trembling happiness, then cast it far away, into the deep of the
galaxies. Don’t let change intimate you, summon it up from within you, evolve, become it, for if you can change
yourself, you can change the world.