It's a terrible thing, I think, in life to wait until you're ready.
I have this feeling now that actually no one is ever ready to do anything.
There is almost no such thing as ready. There is only now.
And you may as well do it now.
Generally speaking, now is as good a time as any.
Hugh Laurie
This picture taken covertly in the Barbara Hepworth Gardens in St Ives, reminds me of the song: Windmills of your mind (see the lyrics below)
Round
Like a circle in a spiral
Like a wheel within a wheel
Never ending or beginning
On an ever spinning reel
Like a snowball down a mountain
Or a carnival balloon
Like a carousel that’s turning
Running rings around the moon
Like a clock whose hands are sweeping
Past the minutes of it's face
And the world is like an apple
Whirling silently in space
Like the circles that you find
In the windmills of your mind!
Like a tunnel that you follow
To a tunnel of it's own
Down a hollow to a cavern
Where the sun has never shone,
Like a door that keeps revolving
In a half forgotten dream,
Or the ripples from a pebble
Someone tosses in a stream
Like a clock whose hands are sweeping ....
Keys that jingle in your pocket
Words that jangle in your head
Why did summer go so quickly?
Was it something that you said?
Lovers walk along a shore
And leave their footprints in the sand
Is the sound of distant drumming
Just the fingers of your hand?
Pictures hanging in a hallway
And the fragment of this song
Half remembered names and faces
But to whom do they belong?
When you knew
That it was over
You were suddenly aware
That the autumn leaves were turning
To the colour
Of her hair!
Like a circle in a spiral
Like a wheel within a wheel
Never ending or beginning
On an ever spinning reel
As the images unwind
Like the circles
That you find
In the windmills of your mind!
Like a circle in a spiral
Like a wheel within a wheel
Never ending or beginning
On an ever spinning reel
Like a snowball down a mountain
Or a carnival balloon
Like a carousel that’s turning
Running rings around the moon
Like a clock whose hands are sweeping
Past the minutes of it's face
And the world is like an apple
Whirling silently in space
Like the circles that you find
In the windmills of your mind!
Like a tunnel that you follow
To a tunnel of it's own
Down a hollow to a cavern
Where the sun has never shone,
Like a door that keeps revolving
In a half forgotten dream,
Or the ripples from a pebble
Someone tosses in a stream
Like a clock whose hands are sweeping ....
Keys that jingle in your pocket
Words that jangle in your head
Why did summer go so quickly?
Was it something that you said?
Lovers walk along a shore
And leave their footprints in the sand
Is the sound of distant drumming
Just the fingers of your hand?
Pictures hanging in a hallway
And the fragment of this song
Half remembered names and faces
But to whom do they belong?
When you knew
That it was over
You were suddenly aware
That the autumn leaves were turning
To the colour
Of her hair!
Like a circle in a spiral
Like a wheel within a wheel
Never ending or beginning
On an ever spinning reel
As the images unwind
Like the circles
That you find
In the windmills of your mind!
Sometimes through no fault of our own we can turn a problem or an decision inside out and upside down until it doesn't resemble anything. A bit (hoping she will forgive me) like this piece of art seen through the foliage. It is sometimes better to metaphorically shut ones eyes and jump than to stay twisting yourself up in knots forever. Regret can be a hard fellow to live with, it can mess with your mind. There must be something you were meaning to do NOW!
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