I first heard this Sufi Poem when a friend wrote a play about it a few years ago.
The past has flown away, the coming month and year do not exist Ours only is the present’s tiny point.
Today, I'm doing my best. It is a moment to moment struggle. I am in a good place with thesis, with work, everything, yet difficult not to be thinking about my colorful future and how it will translate into life's work. I know nothing is permanent , everything passes in time, and time is not standing still for me or anyone. It's a lovely Spring day and the world is full of opportunity.
So I did what I know how best to: distract myself by looking on the internet for inspiring photos. Although not a fan of flowers (I'd take an Italian Vogue over flowers any day) I found these from Boysen Paints that are delightful, and clearly are having a grand time in their "present's tiny point." What is cool about these flowers, is that they, again work with the category that I'm been posting so much about: fake is the new real- or is real the new fake? Reality is but our own, and in constant shift or in need of redifining.