Ecclesiastes 3:1-8

There is a time for everything,
and a season for every activity under the heavens:
a time to be born and a time to die,
a time to plant and a time to uproot,
a time to kill and a time to heal,
a time to tear down and a time to build,
a time to weep and a time to laugh,
a time to mourn and a time to dance,
a time to scatter stones and a time to gather them,
a time to embrace and a time to refrain from embracing,
a time to search and a time to give up,
a time to keep and a time to throw away,
a time to tear and a time to mend,
a time to be silent and a time to speak,
a time to love and a time to hate,
a time for war and a time for peace.

Sometimes I need to remind myself of the ephemeral nature that we all have on this little blue dot in the great cosmos. Everything in this world is temporary. My life is one that is just borrowed from the Universe; some day the energy and matter that makes up my body and soul will eventually be returned.

I feel saudade… (I find it a little humorous that English doesn’t have a single word/term: I found it in Portuguese.) Maybe the terms “nostalgic melancholy” could begin to convey what I’m feeling, but I still feel that it’s missing something in the translation.

I’m grateful to have had the time with those who have made me into the person that I am today. I think that everyone that I’ve met has influenced my life in some way, even if it is only a small divergence from my previous course.

I’ve had many dreams where a faceless person and I share love: I just wonder if I’ll ever meet them or if I have already. Is it the same person or is it a composite character of many individuals over time? Every time I start to figure out who they are, I wake up.


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