This I Believe

Valerie - Collegedale, Tennessee
Entered on October 18, 2006
Age Group: 18 - 30

My ideals are simplicity, optimism and appreciating every moment. I say this, but too often clutter distracts me, negativity consumes me, and what follows is not appreciation of anything, but instead a tendency to wallow in a mud puddle I call “lost vision.” To regain that vision, I have composed this wish list….

I want a room and a hotplate, a toilet and a shower.

I want a bike with a basket and funky Euro hair.

I want a nonna for wisdom and a fish for therapy.

I want to wear a daily path in order to call myself a regular.

Now with these things,

I want the sun to always shine

and the clouds to always be passing on their way to somewhere else.

I’d rather not have a car, at least for now,

but I would like to live in a weathered old building with dark green shutters,

I want to volunteer at a soup kitchen and I want to be an expert at making my own bruschetta.

I want to know my hometown like I do my own name, all the ups and downs, the cracks and the crevices.

I want to think clearly and speak simply.

I want to be good and kind, unselfish and pleasing.

I want to be aware of the negative, but then quickly push it to my subconscious,

allowing only good things to appear in my reflection.

I want to read and learn and touch and feel.

I want to cry at the opera and laugh with a gypsy.

I want to make friends with nuns and monks.

I want a bowler hat and a bright red scarf.

I want to know Masaccio from Boccaccio, Dante from Duccio.

I want to teach what I learn and to share my discoveries.

I want to be content.

I want to be joyful.

I want to take off my rose-colored glasses and yet still see the world around me just as bright.

I want to make this world of mine just as tangible for those I meet.

I want the grass to seem greener and the sky to seem taller.

I want to focus on the day after it rains when it seems as though God has washed the windows.

I want to take the clouds as means to appreciating the sun all the more.

I don’t want to be immune to pain, as no one is,

and I don’t want cloud nine to be a permanent home.

I accept times of discomfort and my share of suffering.

I welcome doubt as I embrace loneliness.

I don’t look forward to these things,

but they will inevitably come,

and I will milk from them just the same as I will the times of weightlessness.

I want to remember that is doesn’t matter the size or color of a cloud,

or the darkness or heaviness of the sky….

The sun is still shining just as brightly somewhere on someone, and my turn will come again.