Letters to Heaven

It is amazing the battle that rages in the mind on daily basis. Gusts of thoughts, trying to influence our direction. When we were younger we did not notice this battle as much. We did what we wanted when we wanted, paying no attention to consequence. We, like the seeds of the dandelion, are blown effortlessly in the wind, skipping along, appearing to have no idea of our destination, the slivers of us sent back to root.

As I've aged, much of me has fallen back to earth along the way, some in rocks, some washed away in streams, and some, thankfully, plotted in bountiful soil. I realize now that the wind never really controlled the final resting place of those many parts of me. I chose the destinations because I was unaware of the consequences, or maybe, aware but, irresponsible and irreverent. In this, with what pieces of me are left, I am reminded:

“Everything can be taken from a man but one thing: the last of the human freedoms—to choose one's attitude in any given set of circumstances, to choose one's own way.”

Viktor Frankl