Hello friends,
Recently I ordered Chinese food, and my fortune cookie read, “Feelings are ideas with roots.” Usually, fortune cookies sound rather silly. Every now and then, though, one stumbles into poetic territory. This one goes out to all the fortune cookie lovers.
Feelings are ideas with roots. Weak at first, they're easily plucked and discarded. But, like all garden volunteers, they don't give up that easily. While you're busy tackling one interloper, more crop up where you aren't looking. You can only see them from the corner of your eye, and they take this opportunity to strengthen their bonds beneath the surface. Sensing something growing, you search for the uninvited guest, but all weeds look the same when they're small. Lush and green with the promise of life, you're unsure who to remove. Things can only be identified when you examine them closely. The act of naming a feeling— joy, sorrow, fear, hope, anger, love— feeds its roots. Without giving something, how can we expect anything in return? All life ends in death, and death provides meaning and nourishment for life. Compost what isn't needed. Let the resulting black gold coax forth unintended blooms.
I always find it curious how a poem transforms as I write it. A sentence or a group of words stirs something in me, and I want to bring that feeling into existence. But as I go along, the stirring brings up things I didn’t expect. I follow them and coax forth the unintended blooms.
Until next time,
Yardena
Weekend Potpourri
Currently on repeat
Thanks for reading. This edition of Letters on Being is free, but if you feel like giving me a little extra support, please consider upgrading to a paid subscription. Also, let me know what unintended blooms you’ve coaxed forth recently.