Moving From A House To A Farm

ESPINOSA SORIANO SADNESS OF AUTUMN TALE by Khalil Gibran

More than nostalgia sadness is what causes me the colors of November. From the window, I see how the land is inducing sleep and brown and wilted leaves carpeted the streets. Beginning today at 5 pm and will be of almost dark, and soon, too soon, they will shine throughout the city Christmas lights. What do I do? I do not want that nostalgia is installed at home, as did other years, and fill all of the past. I am willing to share with her some times, perhaps a whole afternoon, but I also want to live this fall, mine, all I have now, with a light heart. Ignasi is true that one month left to hug December that Christmas is just around the corner. It is precisely for that reason, I start to sew a patchwork blanket, made with bits of honey. I intend to create something beautiful every day as it has many beautiful things, the stitching will go. This blanket, made of scraps of happy thoughts, smiles, illusions, new hugs, winks loving my children, my husband, my friends, all the people I love and far, give me warmth. And when you knock on my door I'll open the sadness, of course, but take with me the blanket in place.

Top 5 Honeymoon Crusies

said an oyster to a neighboring:

- I feel a great pain inside me. It is something heavy and round, that hurts me.

- Praise be to the heavens and the sea, "replied the other with haughty condescension I do not feel any pain. I'm good and healthy, outside and inside.

At that moment a crab was passing heard the two others and told I was good and healthy inside and out:

"Yes, you're good and healthy, but the pain I feel your neighbor is a pearl of extraordinary beauty.

How Do People Die With Glioblastoma Multiforme

seems to me that everyone has a weak point or more. I refer to aspects of life where we have more difficulty, as if they were subjects that we resist. Some may have trouble making friends, many have no luck at work, others spend real hurt with couples or with money ... For me and many readers of this blog, the main theme, I moved the are soul children. Historically, long before he died Ignasi, my anguish, my greatest fear revolves around them. Not because they have been difficult children, not the contrary, I have been fortunate to have two wonderful children. The fear to which I refer is so deep that goes beyond reason. I remember many years ago, before sleeping, going over in bed a happy day and asking, please, any test that would grant me life had nothing to do with children. But it has touched them to be my teachers. Ignasi death is and has been a great learning experience, but I still have much to learn from James. For example, a severe toothache, as having three days, it gives me a seizure that sent me to the epicenter of an ancestral pain. An old fear I have to go through it to liberate him and me in a weight that prevents us from loving without fear. Nobody likes to see their loved ones being embarrassed, that's obvious. But to our emotions, their grief, not only unhelpful, but, the distressed, makes us less effective. and I know that I walk. I also know the weaknesses, whatever they are, keep in essence a treasure, an award for bravery through them, to get around them and transform them. Thus fears fade. Our children are not ours, are children of life, says the poet Khalil Gibran. In our hands is to love them, support them, help them, but do not live your life trying to live ours. His challenges are made to measure, are the tools that allow them to grow and find meaning in their existence. Without difficulty, they will not get achievements. This also serves the dead children. We can not hold them, or pretend that everything continues as before, as if they had gone to the other side. Need to let go and drop to a we only care.