I believe . . .
This I Believe
|The True Literary Blue Stockings|
Of course, that tradition is based on a book made up of many personal essays discussing various subject, based on each author's beliefs. Hence the name.
So we decided that whoever wanted to participate could write an essay, trying to stick to 500 words. Put your essay in your book gift, and the recipient would read it, then we would try to guess who wrote what. Almost everyone wrote an essay and it was fun. I'm going to try and see if any of the others want to post their essays here, but for now you get mine.
|Sorry, I digress. Ha!|
We had months to prepare, but I've been a bit creatively busy lately, so I didn't write mine until the last minute, although I had been thinking of it quite a bit. But when the time came to sit down and actually write it, I found that I was in a different frame of mind. After the PJC Les Mis experiences, I found myself pretty hopeful for all of the students that they would really take advantage of their higher education opportunities and dream big.
|Taken at 24th Street this Year|
One of the personally neat things for me, was that my piece was read by my friend and fellow thespian Robyn Whyte (aka The Flood in Vagina Monologues -- see that post or Hot Pink Coats, her blog is also listed among the blogs I follow). She did it justice, and hers was awesome, too (you can check it out on her blog).
Hope you enjoy.
This I Believe -- by Sydney Young
What is it that I believe? Oh, I know.
I believe in you.
I believe that you are.
You are poetry, a flowing stream, coming into my life and out of it with such strength, yet such gentleness. You change me with your very presence like water molds the rock.
You are right there for me to reach, yet I can never capture you. And I would never want to. You were made to be free. To meander. To flood. To touch my soul every so often.
You are laughter, like the gurgle of a spring fed brook on the hottest day in summer. You refresh my soul.
You are passion, like a raging flood, crashing through me and all around me, trying to drag me with you, trying to drown me in your own belief. And then, just like that, you go back to being a gentle stream, beckoning me.
You are a glass of wine with good friends. Making me flush and happy and reminding me of that one Christmas, that very best one, you know, the one that we had a real white flocked tree, and my brother got a springing rocking horse, and I got a Nancy Drew book, my very first one.
I love you. And I believe in you, oh beautiful you.
|Beautiful Tree that Survived the Great Ice Storm of 2013|
Copyright 2013 Sydney Young