The tiny seed

Something is forming... a tiny little sprout. A small seed, almost unseen with a speck, just a speck of green.
It seems lifeless and barren when looked at from the side, but at the right angle you can see just a small, just a tiny, miniscule speck of something green.
I don't know where it came from, and I don't know how it started to grow.

I thought I had been alone here, in the dark formless earthiness of my world. I hadn't known I was sharing this space with a seed, though it had been small and lifeless for so long.
What has caused it to burst into song, I don't know and for I moment I hold my breath. I don't want to rejoice, lest the movement of the air will cause a stir and this little speck of green will curl up and disappear like an illusion. I am afraid to imagine that this could be a sign that maybe, just maybe, this could be the beginning of a space filled with life and movement, blossoms and greenery. I am much too scared to preempt that kind of result from my tiny little bud of green.

So I watch with disbelief, kneeling in the earth of my formless space and holding my breath with tears in my eyes at this sign, this tiny miniscule sign that there may be life... there just might be hope... there could be something more.

A comeback

Blogging used to be something I really enjoyed, yet something I mostly did when I was encountering difficult times and wanted to express myself.
My journalling of all kinds has waned over the past year, and I now do no writing at all.

My creativity has been coming out in my jewellery (www.mirrabelete.weebly.com) which is VERY enjoyable, but not really a type of all round expression. I love having an outlet for my creativity in general, yet only expressing myself in that way leaves so many words and thoughts swimming inside me.

I'd like to start blogging again, but I'm not quite sure where to start.

I suppose my thoughts over the past few weeks can be summed up by the word "purpose".
The eternal search for real purpose.
I have been questioning myself since I began a B. Early Childhood and Primary Education at university this year as a "mature-aged" student. Ha. To me, even that term creates the illusion of wisdom.
I question myself. Do I REALLY want to be a teacher? Could I handle the pressure of marking, timetabling, critisism, deadlines, discipline of challenging children and a strict curriculum?
What do I really want to be doing?

A friend of mine just posted a challenging blog... not particularly that she MEANT to be challenging, as she was only recounting her experiences and other events, but I felt challenged by her perspective.
She is a woman of so much faith and has learned how to listen to the voice of God to her. She moved from Australia to the U.S recently because she believed that God was telling her to, and judging by the experiences she has had so far, she is onto something profound.

When I read her post, I asked myself... if the world ended in the not too distant future and all of a sudden Jesus came to us... what am I working towards? What am I meant to be doing? What would I like to be doing?

Even someone who does not believe in God can be challenged by holding that perspective.
And so I yearn inwardly, deeply for a voice, a purpose and defined "something more" that will call me into the place that will be the culmination of all my talents, experiences, personality, character and knowledge.

What it is, I do not know.
Yet, I still yearn.

The Albino Strassburg

Unfortunately, it's an in joke...