Note to self- Today was victorious. And if you lose this sensation return to this abandoned beach shack. hang in your hammock. gather your coconuts. write. write. write. surf. surf. surf. shower in the rain storms because happiness is not found in time. It is found in places. And if that place in which you find yourself lacks the necessary ingredients to intoxicate your days with this level of contentment, please by all means pack up your things in this very instant and head for higher ground. Your sober routine will sink you or at the very least drift and fade you into the rip tides of complacency bobbing into and out of vision as the swelling tides rise to consume you. I watched a fishing boat today, rustic, weary and battered, do just that. a fishing boat that in all honesty looked as though the wind would erase it from the ocean’s surface before the swell would. What looked to be at one time a vibrant marine blue now is fading with each rolling wave into the pale cloud white of a noon sky. a small red flag signaled an offshore wind as it atop the ailing wooden mast was the only visible sight as the vessel descended into the valley of the sea time and time again a timely and rhythmic drift into the onset of a horizon governed by stars. Try to be the wind that does not seek to destroy but to mobilize and set march. And if this be too lofty a goal, strive to be the little red flag. If you find yourself losing sight of land whether by way of disinterest or ambivalence, come back here. Go back to now. There are coconuts that remain awaiting your thirst. a thirst satiated solely by the place you deem worthy of your happiness a thirst for the details the time is yesterday. are you still reading this? GO! Troyano Newton.2015.Morrillo.
- A Spoonfull of Panama
- Dear Latinos