Please welcome my guest blogger, Purnimodo. Take a brief moment to truly absorb her charming, romantic philosophical thoughts on giants, old man Time, dinosaurs, and personal journeys. When you’re done thanking her for sharing, and smiling at the screen, send buckets of rawr-love her way! http://purnimodo.wordpress.com/
When you just crack out of your egg and peer into the world, the world seems to be within the space of the two hands that pick you up and cradle you. Hands belonging to giants that speak a language you can’t yet comprehend but feel. Of which each word becomes embroidered with an ancient sleeping forest of thoughts and memories, that is your mind.
And then you set your first steps and you walk into a world of big teeth and roars. Stomping around in untroubled splashes, till you meet a whimsical man called Time, and he sits you down to write a story in your hands that fades away all childhood innocence.
It’s hard to take care of an ailing parent. The burden of knowing that the soul you take care of, in a land before time, was your giant. No matter how good or bad your relation may be – it pains. Yet, perhaps we mistake the hurt of a failing body for something else: The reality that “It is nobody’s fault. The great circle of life has begun, you see, not all of us arrive together at the end.”
In this, knowing or unknowingly, those you held to be giants are preparing you to become a giant too.
Everybody is a dinosaur. As old as the Earth.
Some of us are Duckies Spikes, Petries. Ceras or Fliers. But we all are Littlefoots. That single baby from a herd. The last hope for the future.
When you find yourselves in barren lands – Lonely, frightened and in darkness. At lost and without hope. Exhausted from running from monstrous teeth. Wondering why the giants around you start to crumble – the words from our childhood. that reside somewhere deep within our mental forests direct us back on our journeys towards the Green Valley. And as hard as it may seem. We must search, try to remember and find them.
And then we speak the same words of ages, to fresh new souls that have just came out of their eggs.
And while they peer into the world we teach them how to be giants too.
Only you know how to reach your destination. Or as Littlefoot’s mother would say:
“Let your heart guide you, it whispers so listen closely”
Now that you love Purnimodo as much as I do, check out her blog for poetic writings, world-changing art, and posts that make you sit and think about how you should get up and do something. If I were you, I’d start here: