I know Deecaf Writing is not supposed to be a medium to appeal to your sense of sight but more so for your intellectual pleasure only and maybe a little bit for your sense of touch. Because, you know...my words touch your heart. Just kidding (and secretly hoping that I am not)
I am going to have to sidetrack from my purpose today because I don't think anyone can decide when and how inspiration will find them. I have yet to tame my creativity in such way that I can control it. I simply can't, yet. So I can't find inspiration and usually end up waiting for it to find me. Sucks, really. I have to work on that. Until then it found me yesterday in the form of fall colors and a photo-story was born.
We spent what was supposed to be the last warm (ish) day of fall outside yesterday, at our favorite spot in New York City; our neighborhood. Upper West Side and its big green baby, Central Park were both gorgeous yesterday and both looked sort of yellow, orange, brown. I like calling fall colors earthy.
Pumpkins took their place.
And so did leaves.
Then came the park.
Whether you looked up
You saw it all.
Whether you stayed
you found colors of life.
Sometimes in the shape of a monk walking amongst us
and reminding with every step he takes of the monk within.
And sometimes in the shape of notes.
Living is how there is music everywhere you turn in this city.
And with that comes dance like you just don't care.
Or you know...just do this.
How life and death coexist. How it is not always sad
for sad can only be when there is happiness to compare it to.
How babies get to really live on the weekends
and be cool on their own.
Because they know there is always someone out there watching out for them.
It seemed that whether lost in thoughts on one's own
or lost in each other together
Everyone was living in today
With a dream for tomorrow.
Sometimes to rise high
Sometimes to stay down low.
Fall was beautiful yesterday and men were ready for it.