Dear Friend,
To see you again, such a gift! It's been years and years to the day since we last met. We were each at different parts of our journeys. Isn't it strange that we live often without thinking, but when we look back we can see the pathways we've walked, the small decisions that changed everything? We see how strangers come to us and become friends, how their pebbles disturb the still lake of ourselves and even now you can see the ripples widening. I am in a contemplative mood, marking time as my birthday dawns.
Maybe it will be years again before we get another chance to sit down and talk. It doesn't seem to matter how different we are, how little we actually share. I'm just glad to have seen you grow, reach your dream, turn into a beautiful young woman, with a strength that you carry with you.
Thank you for being part of my life,
Mayumi Olivar
Dear Self,
Turning thirty is nothing to laugh at or cry at. You shrug off what was gone, and what is yet to come, you will meet anyway. You're still at your lessons, picking up wisdom then putting them down as the situation demands. Ride the wind, let the moment come and go. I only ask of you this: to start with as clean a slate as you can. You have built your own coffin to live and die in. But all the names you gave yourself are mutable. Be as water and choose the shape that holds you.
Turning thirty is not a period to end a chapter. It is a pivot, a hinge to carry you to whichever direction you choose. So what is next for you? Wander on and wonder on, my nomad poet, let the words sweep you away...
M.O.
To see you again, such a gift! It's been years and years to the day since we last met. We were each at different parts of our journeys. Isn't it strange that we live often without thinking, but when we look back we can see the pathways we've walked, the small decisions that changed everything? We see how strangers come to us and become friends, how their pebbles disturb the still lake of ourselves and even now you can see the ripples widening. I am in a contemplative mood, marking time as my birthday dawns.
Maybe it will be years again before we get another chance to sit down and talk. It doesn't seem to matter how different we are, how little we actually share. I'm just glad to have seen you grow, reach your dream, turn into a beautiful young woman, with a strength that you carry with you.
Thank you for being part of my life,
Mayumi Olivar
Dear Self,
Turning thirty is nothing to laugh at or cry at. You shrug off what was gone, and what is yet to come, you will meet anyway. You're still at your lessons, picking up wisdom then putting them down as the situation demands. Ride the wind, let the moment come and go. I only ask of you this: to start with as clean a slate as you can. You have built your own coffin to live and die in. But all the names you gave yourself are mutable. Be as water and choose the shape that holds you.
Turning thirty is not a period to end a chapter. It is a pivot, a hinge to carry you to whichever direction you choose. So what is next for you? Wander on and wonder on, my nomad poet, let the words sweep you away...
M.O.
