BlogMas 2018 Day Seven - Creek

By some freak of nature, I wish it were possible to write your younger self letters. Like congratulatory clues at checkpoints in a game. Because nothing can wear you out like waiting for your compass to respond and point to a direction when you feel every now and then, a preset societal threshold has been championed. I reckon all of us have a different kind of relationship with ourselves. However, I do wonder if any of us have a selfless one. We're all an assortment of personalities put together haphazardly and clumsily wrapped, with the twine never knotting. And often we meet ourselves at various crossroads. One running along to catch a flight, the other awaiting for roots to grow. The real issue is we freely appreciate efforts others make for us; never, though, the ones we make for ourselves. Our exchanges with the outside world are incomprehensible enough - they're impossible to be drawn under our reign. And, every now and then we add in the metaphorical cherry on top by treating our relationship with ourselves as nothing short of fiddly and impenetrable. That just makes us having the power to lose ourself within ourselves a luxury. So, yes. I wish I could leave my younger self letters. Let her know that at no point she needs to feel guilt of any amplitude, should she decide to start her life over. For God knows we all need a little of part ourself we conceal all the time to mend us, each time we crack a little. And just how easy it is to love when simple things like the sun shining, or water falling off a cliff still happen. 

A tad break from people this weekend.

Until then.

Iceland Design Centre

Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas.

A.