:::all things bright and beautiful:::


It is easier somehow to imagine the joys of others. To picture the events that will happen to them and to see the emotions that will shine on their faces. Yet when you try to envisage a rosy future of your own, things get cloudy. An immediate denial comes to the mind that screams…no maybe I won’t be so lucky. Why is there fear for our own future, the refusal to believe in nice things happening to us? Is it fear of paying a price for dreaming such dreams? Or is it fear of them coming true … of somehow solidifying something that was till now an ambiguous shape. Do we feel that imagining the future with clarity will somehow take away the freedom of seeing where the road takes us?

Why do we fear dreaming something that we think we don’t deserve? What was wrong with Prometheus wanting to experience something reserved for divinity? Why do we have a human culture that frowns upon expecting too much from life and hates you when you do obtain it?

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