Time To Say Goodbye.
When I’m alone I dream of the horizon and words fail me.
There is no light in a room where there is no sun
and there is no sun if you’re not here with me, with me.
From every window unfurls my heart the heart that you have won.
Into me you’ve poured the light,
the light that you found by the side of the road.
Time to say goodbye.
Places that I’ve never seen or experienced with you.
Now I shall, I’ll sail with you upon ships across the seas,
seas that exist no more,
it’s time to say goodbye.
When you’re far away I dream of the horizon and words fail me.
And of course I know that you’re with me, with me.
You, my moon, you are with me.
My sun, you’re here with me with me, with me, with me.
Time to say goodbye.
Places that I’ve never seen or experienced with you.
Now I shall, I’ll sail with you upon ships across the seas,
seas that exist no more,
I’ll revive them with you.
I’ll go with you upon ships across the seas,
seas that exist no more,
I’ll revive them with you.
I’ll go with you.
You and me.
From the song, “Time to Say Goodbye” performed by Sarah Brightman and Andrea Bocelli.
I know that there are some of you who hate revisionism in diaries, but this is one I just plain had to change. I wrote about how the logical part of me practices siege warfare and guerrilla tactics on my emotions, and wins the terrible battle of attrition, just as a product of time. The entry was supposed to be about letting go, and how I’m going to make another pass at it.
And then I went out and starting reading some other diaries, and I realized that thinking myself out of everything I want, just because “if I want it, it must not be right,” is stupid. Not only is it stupid, it is wasteful. So now, instead of wallowing in my craptacularity, I am going to ask a couple of serious questions. I really want to hear from people who aren’t natural risktakers, but have learned how to do it.
How do you teach yourself out of being cautious and careful, and into the person who is at least potentially responsive to risky situations?
“You can’t lose what you don’t put in the middle…but you can’t win much, either.” -Matt Damon’s character, from Rounders.
How do you throw security and comfort away for the unknown?
How do you really invest in people, knowing that the minute you do, they’re going to hurt you somehow, however intentionally or not?
Is there such a thing as a “sort of” risk? Like something between throwing your security out the window and clutching it like some sort of miraculous artifact?
I want to know.
No, I really want to know. And please folks, no platitudes about “just doing it,” I’m talking on the basic grind it out level. I want to know the mechanics of the process. I have the terrible feeling, from the outside looking in, that I’m looking for something that doesn’t exist. I’ve never really gotten over my petrifying fear of heights. I just decided about 8 years ago, after I took a fall while mountain climbing, that I’d rather die falling than live with that fear paralyzing me. I have the terrible feeling this is much the same. If that’s true, it will mean throwing out all my comfortable little paradigms and starting over. *sigh* Just when you think you’ve got it down…such is life.
“Let men tremble to win the hand of woman, unless they win along with it the utmost passion of her heart! Else it may be their miserable fortune, when some mightier touch than their own may have awakened all her sensibilities, to be reproached even for the calm content, the marble image of happiness, which they will have imposed upon her as the warm reality.” – Nathanael Hawthorne, in the Scarlet Letter.