Roasted

Tennis shoes slipping on a muddy hill
Gloved hands tingling in the snow
Bird song freezing in a frozen trill
And Grammy's dressed up like Eskimos

Everybody knows some twigs and some dried dead leaves
Help to make us look like tykes
Youthful grandmas in their wintery weaves
Will find it hard not to hike tonight

They know that old age is on its way
And now's the time to walk and time to play
So every grandma knows it's time to try
And prove that they are still quite spry.

And so I thought that you ought to know
For those who want that rosy bloom
Don't go hiking in the mud and snow
Or they'll put you in a rubber room.

I wish I may I wish I might

How many of us have looked back and said, "If only I had known..."

Perhaps the secret of life is to live as if I do know.

Take the chance of looking foolish.

Be a bit maudlin once in a while.

Reach out knowing rejection isn't the worst thing in the world.  (Regrets are.)

The rules of the heart and the rules of the world don't always coincide, so err on the side of the heart.

Someone out there might be wishing on a star and you might hold the answer right there in your hand.

Lifesavers

The clouds hang like leaden shields between my house and the prospect of anything brighter.  Day and night become almost indistinguishable, because to open the drapes is less desirable than the bright artificial lights within.

Once, long ago, when I was six, there was a year like this.  I was in first grade and I remember sitting at the desk I had longed for.  All my short life my father had been at the U of I and I had been so eager to join him in academia.  I had high hopes for that year and they all sank slowly into a wall of windows being absorbed by the grayness outside.

We were not talking about Rosetta stones or imperial jewels.  We weren't even discussing alchemy.  Instead I was faced with counting reindeer heads in little squares and waiting to take a turn that never seemed to materialize in the Hansel and Gretal house the sixth graders kept in our room.

My world had turned into a never ending struggle to pull on snow-pants and recalcitrant rubber boots over the new shoes I had been so proud of, and an almost unendurable waiting.  Waiting to turn in my paper, waiting for my reading group to be called, waiting for the morning break and my turn to punch holes for straws in all the little milk bottles and then it happened.

One afternoon when I thought I never wanted to come to school again I was called to crank the old fashioned record player!  I remember how it took both hands to turn that black metal crank with the wooden handle and how I got to do it again and again as we learned the song, "There was an old woman who swallowed a fly.  I don't know why she swallowed a fly.  Perhaps she'll die."

It was a turning point.  I began laughing uncontrollably and had my name put in the Noisy box, a place of shame in the corner of the blackboard.  That stopped the laughing.  I was mortified, but somehow I didn't feel so deeply sad anymore.

I sang that song for my mother that night.  Unfortunately we were on our way to my great grandmother's funeral, but my mother was kind.  She told me it was a nice song, just not to sing it anymore.

I had discovered irony.  I didn't know it at the time, but it would be a life saver for the rest of my life.  Now I sit here with all the time in the world on my hands waiting for my turn with the big crank.

Rules

Our world is in love with rules.  They make people feel secure.

After all, if there are rules that means someone really knows!  Right?

Nope.  It means someone had enough gall to say they know, or believe they know.  At their best, rules are a guide line to the most common ways done by the most people.  Or they are simply an out and out attempt to make people do things a certain way for whatever reason.

It is necessary to have a lot of beliefs in order to follow rules.  One is that the maker of the rules had my best interests at heart.  Two is that there is hard evidence that these rules supersede all others in all ways.  Three is that there is a need for me to see that these rules make my world a better place in some way that I agree with and understand.

And lastly, the punishment for breaking the rules is such that I don't want to risk it.  I think this one is the only one a lot of people are concerned with.  Otherwise we would not have so many rules.

And that might be a very good thing.

Magic

There are no guarantees.

That's the thing about happiness.  You just can't save up for it, or bank on it, or buy it.

Everybody's sense of happiness is a little bit different and comes in a slightly different form, or way.

The only absolute common denominator is that it is always something felt.

Feelings are the closest thing to pure magic I know of.  They fly in out of nowhere and assault my world turning it right side up or upside down, so I try to make sure there is always room for happiness to get in.

A cracked cup, or broken phone, a financial disaster, or loss of a loved one can shed enough pieces to fill in the cracks with ease, but I keep sweeping out the extraneous material in the hope that my world will always be holey enough for joy.

Closer every day

I was born into a tight little world of family and familiar sights, sounds and feelings.

Little by little that world expanded into extended family and friends, neighborhood and city and I learned to talk on the telephone and watch a less familiar world on television.

Eventually I went to school, then high school and finally college.  I discovered calculators and  transistor radios, microwaves and boom boxes, CD players, cell phones, digital cameras, computers, smart phones....

And each new step took me, not farther from, but closer to the people and things that are nearest and dearest.

Some of the people in my great grandmother's generation left home in covered wagons and never saw their families again.  I am seldom farther away than a few flicks of my fingers no matter where I am.

Technology only separates us if I want it to. 

Christmas

Santa Claus arranged my Christmas so that it came in bits and pieces, stretching over several days and building like a crescendo to today.

So much love, so much creativity, so much joy...

It doesn't seem possible for one person to have so much and yet...here it is.

Blessings

Life is an adventure, a mystery that takes me from place to place in ways I will never understand and maybe don't even want to.

I drift along, lost in the beauty, the absolute wonder of it and realize if I wrote this no one would believe me.

The fairytale is real, the possibilities endless.  All the impediments seem to be man made, concepts that are limited by the beliefs and understanding of people with less imagination than the universe.

Looking at this world I realize the universe is a creation beyond belief and I am a creation who has been blessed and blessed and blessed.

The first day

Let's make this the first day.

A day when the sun comes up and the wind blows and the trees stand secure on their roots.

Let's forget all the stories...

Write new stories based on real love and tolerance. 

Let's yield to something greater than ego.

As a child I wanted to be special, to be unique, to be the best, but I am no longer a child and I don't need childish values anymore.

Let's clear away the overgrowth.

The garden is still here hidden under centuries of abuse.

Let's make this the first day.

It's the people

A week ago today I decided to make some special cookies that I haven't made in many years.  I creamed the butter and sugar and reached up to open the cabinet for a measuring cup.

As the door to the cupboard opened, the shelf collapsed and in one of those slow motion moments while I watched and tried, ineffectually, to catch one thing or another, all my good cups, several of my good glasses and one of my mixing bowls cascaded out of the cabinet and onto the counter top and floor!

Some of the pieces landed twenty feet away in the living room!  I picked up cup handles out of my recliner and pieces of china out of the Christmas tree!  It was a mess.  Looking down at the bowl of cookie dough I saw shards of porcelain and glass sticking out like shiny bits of candy, but probably worst of all was my new phone.  The front was shattered!

It's been kind of a rough week.  Turns out my phone cannot be repaired and it wasn't insured, but my landlord did offer me his old smart phone which I thought was very generous.  I made more cookies and while I didn't go to extremes to ice them, they tasted good.  It was comical when I offered my guests hot cocoa and told them I didn't want any.  They guessed that I didn't have enough cups, but I got a new mug for Christmas.

In the end, though, I realized that as big a mess as it was and as expensive as it was, in the grand scheme of things it was not so big after all.  I've had a lot of love from people this week and not one of them cared if I had a nice phone or enough cups or if those cups matched. 

It's not the stuff in life that matters.  It's the people. And as trite as that may sound it is the truth.

Little gifts

The universe gives me little gifts all the time.

Yesterday I rearranged my living room so that my computer is in front of the hot air register for the winter.  Today while I was sitting in my big chair, talking to a friend on the phone I saw a tiny little hand print on my fireplace!  That has to be my grandson's from earlier this year, but what a gift it is today!

It's like having a little piece of him still here.

It's the bits and pieces that make life not just bearable, but wonderful.

I talk on the phone, skype, email, and life goes on in ways it never could have when I was younger and we didn't have so many amenities.  Today I can have Christmas with a loved one.  We can share a cup of hot cocoa, open presents and look at my tree and still be five hundred miles apart!

Musty memories

Things shift and I am not sitting on top of the world, or at least that is my perception, so I ask myself what caused the shift.

The answer seems to be a lack of perfection.

Mine.

It is the age old problem come back to haunt me.  Anything less than perfection and my world feels like an uphill walk in back country America.  Not your Norman Rockwell world or nostalgic scenes with warm fires and tables set with austere beauty, but more like James Agee's Alabaman tenant farmers.

There is an impending sense of dinginess, as though it is about to creep up and overtake me if I close my eyes for just a moment. 

I remember this happening as early as my second Christmas when I sneaked out of bed at nap time and dressed myself in an elegant little blue nightgown with matching robe and white bunny fur slippers.  I was desperate to be pretty, but no one was impressed.  They were upset that I had gotten out of bed.

My foibles were never encouraged, yet they persisted. 

Some people fight for perfection.  I struggle to let go of that need.

The joy and the sadness

A little boy holds up his empty bowl.  "Please sir, may I have some more?"  It is breakfast time and there is a line of cold children queuing up.

Hungry children without socks on cold winter days. 

Children with holes in the soles of their shoes. 

Children whose last meal might have been yesterday's lunch.

Children who come to school one day and disappear without a word the next.  Children who suddenly reappear after weeks of being gone.

These are not tales out of a Dickensian novel.  They are straight out of one of the wealthiest cities in the Heartland.

A teacher keeps a box of "extra" shoes and socks sitting by her door.  There are a few hats and mittens in there too.  You can help yourself, or she might help you if you don't.

Late in the day there is a drawing and the winners get to take home a prize, a gift wrapped up in Christmas paper.  Supposedly this drawing is for children who donated something to the food baskets.  In reality it is, at least partially, a cover for children whose parents are too proud to accept charity.

But beginning to end, these children appear to be the same laughing, joyful children who simply accept what life hands out that you see anywhere.

The joy and the sadness stand next to each other every day.

Feelings

Feelings are independent critters. 

They come and go at will, seldom held back by short leashes, or hindered by common sense. 

Fed by some of the lowest causes and nurtured by weaknesses, they are still one of the most beautiful parts of a human being.

I may be ashamed of Jealousy, but she springs from a love that is monumental in size and she is only a tiny tendril on the edge of that love.

It's those tendrils that keep me grounded.  They remind me that in spite of all my goodness, I have plenty of not-so-good things that are just as much a part of me.

Good and bad, yen and yang, up and down, it's the tension in life that keeps things interesting  -- and balanced. 

Start altering feelings artificially and it's never quite the same.  A seesaw really balances on a fulcrum.  Pretending that fulcrum is some place else doesn't really change anything in the long run, because eventually you're gonna forget to put your feet down and the landing will be hard!

I think it's just better to tend to the critters as they wander over and rub against my legs.  At least then I know where they are.

How come

Once upon a time I did this and I did that and it drove somebody crazy!

In fact, much of  my life I've done things that even made me wonder.  How could I be so clumsy, or so naive, or weird?

How come other people go to the store and buy a cloth tape measure and I go to the tool box and pull out a Stanley to measure my knitting projects?  

Why is it making toast to you and an adventure in cooking for me?

There are probably a million reasons, but the really important thing is this:

I've finally found someone who finds those things endearing!

Tragedy

Yesterday afternoon I received an email to fly the flag at half-mast.  That was how I first heard about the tragedy in Connecticut.

It struck close to home because I volunteer in an elementary school and was discussing the school's security procedures with a secretary the day before.  Entering our school requires ringing a bell and waiting for the office to push a button to release the door.  It doesn't work very well and often takes several tries before I can get in.  The secretary said she sees no real point in it because they let everyone into the office who rings the bell.  Of course they wouldn't if he had a gun, but anyone wanting to kill people would most likely hide the gun until they were inside.

It makes me wonder how this man got into the school this morning?  I also wonder where he began shooting?  Did he pick a particular classroom?

As I drove home I wondered how his parents felt, how they would deal with being the parents of a monster who killed babies? Then I heard he shot his mother first.  Not in the back, or chest, but in the face.  That sounds like a confrontation with unsettling questions all on its own.

I wonder what went on in that house?

This doesn't sound like a kid bullied by classmates, or coworkers.  What went on in his mind that sent him out to shoot five year olds?

No amount of questioning will bring back the dead, but we need to give some serious thought to what preceded this tragedy, because I have a feeling it was even more tragedy, just a quieter, more acceptable sort.

No obstacle is too great

"Swim said the momma fishy, swim if you can....."

We swim around swishing our tails and blowing bubbles, rising up and sinking down and the ripples move out across the pond.

Our actions affect everyone else s. 

When I rise to the top some of my comrades think they have to swim in my shadow.  Others like the shade.

When I lay on the bottom feeding, others look at what I eat as a guide to what's good while some point at me and laugh derisively. 

Life is just a bunch of choices! 

Be my shade and my inspiration and we'll swim "right over the dam."

Sound track

Every so often some song sticks in my mind and becomes the sound track of the moment.

I remember back in my twenties, working at my first job in Bloomington, when it was, "Oh what a beautiful morning!"

Lately it has been "Let it snow!"  You saw the results just the other day when I wrote, "It is cold."

I don't know why this happens to me, but it isn't a bad phenomena.  Everything I do is backed up by my mind searching for words that express my current feelings.  This morning I found myself vacuuming and singing:

Oh my life is so delightful
the lessons so insightful
Today I'm feeling so cool
I'm going to school, going to school, going to school!

It's nice to be happy.  I don't mind being silly.

Back in the classroom again

I love five year olds!

Every Monday I volunteer with several classes in an elementary school IMC.  That stands for Instructional Media Center, or Library in old fashioned words.

The bi-lingual kindergarten is one of my favorites.  Five year old children are so cute.  They say exactly what they think or feel and they are still very eager to please, so it is the best of all worlds.

Now through Christmas I also have the chance to work with some other kindergarteners doing "math" every afternoon.  Five year old math is very complicated.  Yesterday we had to cut out gingerbread men and glue them to another sheet of paper in numerical order.  Then we had to write the number beside each square of these little cookie people and the problems were unbelievable.

Some children tried to actually cut out each little man, a physical impossibility, but one they undertook with intense concentration.  Others had trouble finding a crayon or pencil that would either write on glue soaked paper, or show up on the black construction paper.  A few simply had trouble holding the scissors!  My job was to just float around and try to head off problems before actually getting down to how to write an "8!"

Today was much simpler.  We played Christmas tree bingo.  The first two rounds I held up a number and they tried to find it on their tree.  The first one to fill up their tree won, but we continued to play until everyone's tree was covered in ornaments.  Then it got harder.  I did not show them the number so they had to know what it looked like.  Those teens are tricky!

Later this week we are baking real gingerbread cookies and eating them while we drink hot chocolate.  I work hard!

Honestly, though, the teacher really does work hard.  She has 28 students who are expected to add and subtract sums up to ten, read a hundred words, spell their names and know their colors, as well as all the other social skills necessary to fit into a classroom that comes with all day kindergarten.  Some of it is simple for children who have been to two years of preschool or have families who spend time with them doing these things at home, but many of these children do not fall into this category.

I don't know how they can expect one person to do all of this without aides and volunteers, but it makes my day to be the volunteer.

I am cold

Oh the weather outside is freezing
And I've found my coat's not pleasing
So I suck it up and try to be bold.
I am cold!  I am cold!  I am cold!

I find myself buttoning and zipping
Weighted down with clothes and tipping
I hate to turn into a scold, but...
I am cold!  I am cold!  I am cold!

When I finally walk to the park,
All the squirrels chatter and run
And the weather there is damp and dark
I find myself pining for sun!

My teeth commence to chattering
My face the wind is battering.
And even if your love I behold
I am cold!  I am cold!  I am cold!

Sweet spot

The minute waltz has nothing on the five minute thot!

I have reached that point in my life where things are so good and I am doing so many of the things I really love that time has sometimes become an issue!

What a wonderful problem to have.  In fact it really isn't a problem at all. 

I am noticing that as the quality of life improves so do my life skills, which makes me believe, even more, that it is all more about perspective than I wanted to believe for so many years.

If I am right I have found the sweet spot.

Creation

Once upon a time gifts were mostly homemade. Men whittled toys for young children, combs for their wives, or made the cradles that would rock their children, grandchildren and great grandchildren.  Women knit new mittens and hats, made dolls and baked special treats for those they loved.  Each gift was lovingly hand crafted because there was no other choice. Baby clothes were passed from generation to generation, too precious to toss out when they had been hand stitched or crocheted or knitted.

It wasn't sentimentality as much as necessity.

I can't imagine having to make all my children's socks, clothes, or toys.  There wasn't time.  Yet, back in "the day" there must have been less time.   I made the bread for our family, but after a few years I had a bread machine I used.  I cooked from scratch, but my husband did not have to raise and butcher our meat and I could buy those noodles if I wanted to. My sister had a big garden.  I bought our produce.

I did knit the occasional scarf and I did make many of their clothes while they were younger because I couldn't find the kind I wanted, but I had a sewing machine.  I even made stuffed animals and playhouses that hung over card tables.  I made dolls, but they weren't the only dolls.  I made teacher's gifts of quilted houses that fit over tissue boxes or held scissors.  I macrame ed plant holders and wall hangings and crafted dream catchers and drums.  What had once been necessity became a luxury -- my hobbies.

I don't know how to engineer video games, or produce electronic toys, but I am finding there are some modern types of "crafts" that I can still get my fingers into and that is what I love about Christmas.  It is a time of year when I can indulge my need for creation.

Turning points

There is always a point where things change.  Change has been a huge part of my life for as long as I can remember.  A new sister, or brothers, new homes, new friends, new schools, new lessons, not much of life is truly static when I think about it.

I've learned that most of my fears come from the unknown, but that in the end most new things are a lot like the old things, or at least the important parts of them are, and that is because how things feel depends on how I look at them.

Still, there can be major changes and it's interesting to ponder where the turning point occurred.  I like life to progress honestly and openly, but there is usually an "aha" moment when all new things click into place.

What is it that triggers life-changing moments?  Usually not momentous things accompanied by John Williams sound tracks.  Somehow the really big things usually spring from almost obscure details, a few words in a book, a card, a seemingly inconsequential point in time.

Whether this is because these things would have happened no matter what, or whether those tiny moments were the magical keys that opened some door I couldn't see, I don't know.

There really are turning points in life and they can become the pivotal places for extraordinary change.

True Love

When I was a child I wanted to be in love.  I loved the picture of the prince kissing Snow White and awakening her.  Loving her before he ever really knew her.  I loved the idea of riding off to a beautiful mythical place where people were happy evermore.

I was fed tales of this or that family member who lived to a great age with their heart’s desire and I had vague memories of my own parents kissing and cuddling while I was still young enough to squeeze in between them.

As my parents grew less enchanted with one another I wanted this sort of bliss even more and I was getting to the age when it was encouraged by my culture to seek it. By the age of eighteen I found several people I thought might be prince charming and by twenty I was married.  In our culture that was a vow expected to last a lifetime.

A lifetime when these expectations were set was much shorter than a lifetime now; in fact it was probably half what it is now and marriage was as much for convenience and survival as it was love, maybe even more so.  But I was expected to make this decision at an age when I didn’t really know who I was, let alone what love was and live with it until “death us do part.”

We stuck it out for nearly thirty mostly unhappy years.  United only by this cultural expectation and the children we brought into our lives.  Now that I am three times the age I was when I was married I am much wiser.

Shangri-La exists, but not on some mystical mountain in Tibet, or a mythical castle in Forever More.   It exists within the boundaries of my own understanding and perception. 

I have met love now and it is so much more than I ever dreamed of at the impossibly young age I chose a lifetime companion.  Sometimes I wish I had known then what I know now, but then I think how truly fortunate I am.

Some people live and die without ever knowing true love, but I am not one of those!

One word

Lots of words can tell a story, or describe something so that you can see what I see.

One picture can do the same thing.

But what if I just write one word?

One word only opens a door.  It isn't specific.  It unlocks the thoughts of whoever reads it and allows their feelings and interpretations to flow out and fill in the blanks.  The less I write the more room you have to feel in your own creative and personal way.

One word is a poem...created by you,  in your head, using your thoughts and feelings and memories.

National treasures

Children are often treated like little bonsai trees.  Twisted and wired into shapes that conform to the world rather than being allowed to grow into the magnificent creations they are. 

Imagine a world where children are not thrown into daycare at the tender age of six weeks, or forced to fit into someone else s schedule.  They sleep when they are tired; eat when they are hungry; are held when they need comfort and fed morsels of knowledge when they are ready to receive them.

A world designed to bring out the best in each child is not necessarily a world that is best for the care giver, or anyone else and so it seldom takes precedence.

But when it does?

Oh the things that emerge!  Two year olds playing music; who already know their letters, shapes and colors; happy, giggling, active human beings oblivious to the stress and strain of their peers.  Little people who are so in touch with their feelings and so comfortable in their world that the only real thing they have to struggle with is their emotional growth.  And that too comes more easily for a child whose every waking moment is not one of conflict.

I suspect that if children were brought into this world and treated like the treasures they are, we might be amazed at the difference in the quality of everyone's life.

Hugging pillows

Rain patters against my window panes like cozy thoughts sifting down around me.

Nights like these make it easy to snuggle down in my bed, my hugging pillow close up against my back.  Not hugging me, or being hugged, just there, a place holder for soft dreams and warmth.

A gentle nudge that says you are loved and safe and the world is a pretty wonderful place to be.

I close my eyes, sigh quietly, and drift into the land of nod, into that place filled with stars where anything is possible and magical things happen all the time.

Here I find you waiting for me and even in my dreams I know you too are sleeping snuggled up against your pillow, your little teddy bear tucked under your chin, safe and warm and dreaming of me.

Heart felt evening

If I could describe my dream evening it would include live music and at this time of year that would be Christmas music.

All those old favorites from childhood like, "Up On The House Top," or perhaps later ones like, "Blue Christmas."  There might be a few new ones in between, realistic songs about real Christmases that tug at the heart.

And no evening of Christmas music would be complete without "Silent Night" sung from the heart and played on guitar.

End the evening with a little laughter and quiet conversation and a story read aloud, and it would be a night with pictures from the heart to last forever.

What are the terms

A hungry person thinks of everything in terms of food.  A sick one in terms of health.  A bored one in terms of excitement.

It seems the human race is geared for thinking in terms of what they don't have, or perhaps what they want.  Of course there is also Gertrude's law.  Gertrude was Hamlet's mother.

"The lady doth protest too much, methinks". Gertrude's Law states that if a person is overly passionate about condemning a certain lifestyle choice, they most likely engage in that lifestyle secretly." 

Or perhaps they would like to if they only had a little more courage. We are creatures who seem to thrive on conflict.  When it doesn't exist there are soap operas, movies, stories, even back yard gossip to create a bit more of it.  There is even denial.

And maybe that is understandable.  "Bad" people doing "bad" things offer us the opportunity to empathize with the one being "hurt," or perhaps even with the saints and heroes who deal with the bad ones.

An awful lot of bad things have been done in the name of good.

That bears thinking about.

No twisting necessary

It is not necessary to make up things in order to be happy; to live purposefully.

Simply do the loving things, the common sense things, the logical things and life goes on in miraculous ways.

When it becomes necessary to manipulate and twist things, that is a clue there is a problem.

The real miracle is that we exist.

Bears running freely through the camp

Bad dreams!  Scrooge might have had the most noteworthy ones, but mine are right up there.

Imagine going to a Boy Scout camp and there among the boys and the trees are bears, “running freely through the camp,” And perched here and there where I least expected them?  Mountain lions!

I was supposed to remain calm and act like it was normal.  If I didn’t the implication was that they would revert to their most heinous natures and attack me!  I went into the only cabin but knew that if I closed the door the bear was stronger than I was and could get in anyway and if he did, he would be angry and attack me.  When the bear wandered off I closed the door and turned around to see three mountain lions lying around inside with me!

The strain of remaining calm and unafraid was enormous, so when I was offered the chance to do a presentation I jumped on it and a woman took me into town to get some props from her apartment.

Her apartment was in a huge dilapidated building whose halls were crammed with extraneous living accoutrements from all the people living there.  She left me in the hallway and went up to her tiny apartment.  When she returned she brought me a sweater and a small suitcase with props.  The sweater was too small, but I took the case down to the street where it turned out it to be a convertible car, packed, so I could carry it.

I was walking around the compacted car trying to decide how I would do my presentation when my mother began telling me exactly how I should do it which was not what I had wanted to do.  I couldn’t imagine how to do it her way and finally just gave up and walked away from it all.  I opted for going back to the camp and facing the bears and mountain lions.  When I got there a man I volunteer with, now in real life, tried to tell me they weren’t really there.  I wanted to believe him, but as soon as he left, I discovered the bears and lions really were there.  He just hadn’t seen them.

Lots of conflict in this dream, but it is honestly like a small time capsule of the first sixty years of my life.  Today that conflict is mostly relegated to and contained within dreams and for that I am grateful.

Be what you are

Babies are naturally happy.  They put up with a lot of frustration and a lot of rules that go against their natural inclinations and still… they tend to smile and giggle at the drop of a hat.

That tells me that we are created to be happy.  That searching out suffering is not the right thing to do.

I know that a big part of my being a loner is that I don’t want to be constantly judged.  I’ve had enough of that in my life.  Now I want to find out who I am, what my natural inclinations are, what is it about me that makes me unique.

I watched my grandson bob to the rhythm of music with mad abandon and my granddaughter throw herself into the dance with no thought at all except that she wanted to be a ballerina.  She leapt and twirled, spun and threw herself to the ground with such joy and no apparent worries about how much she weighed, or how well she did it.  She only knew she loved it.

That is a gift people seem to lose as they grow older.

Maybe it is time to quit worrying so much about what we should do, or must do, or need to do and do more of what we want to do.  I have a feeling this might solve a lot of the world’s problems.  Without the stress and strain of trying to be something we are not, there might be a lot less need for drugs of any sort, both medicinal and recreational.

Acting out would become a thing of the past.  People would be encouraged to be what they were and therefore much more content and even productive.  We are such wonderful creations.

Love one another

Sometimes the tried and true ways are not the best ways.  They are just the most common and therefore, the most comfortable ways.

There are a few absolutes in this world.  We are born.  We die.  Gravity keeps our feet on the ground.  The wind blows, the sun comes up, the moon rises.

But that big adventure called living is mostly up to us and human beings have made up all kinds of rules that they believe are right.  The rules change depending on who you are and where you are -- and that is my clue that these are not absolutes.  They are simply things we are used to, or not used to.

If we love one another and truly care about each others well being then it is time to be a little more open minded about a lot of these things.

A world full of people hating each other because they don't agree on the rules is a lot less desirable than a world where the first rule is, "love one another."

"Love one another."  That is pretty open ended, but it is also finite.  Either we do it, or we don't.

Important things

Nothing beats snuggling with grandchildren.  Except maybe getting to be with your children while doing it.

Another day goes by when the most important things that happen are getting to the potty, getting the spoon or fork to the mouth and having fun doing whatever is happening in the moment.

We went to a museum and played in the space station, then dug for dinosaur bones!  We danced and shook eggs while the band practiced. 

The day ended in the bath tub with Elly the elephant and doing the back float followed by monster strokes.

Simple things.  Basic things. 

These are the important things.

Perfection

Today has been mind staggeringly perfect! 

We went to a restaurant that seemed custom made for me.  There wasn't anything in it that I didn't adore, right down to the "toilettes."  I had a crepe with spinach and feta cheese, cafe au lait and then the surprise!  They brought out a crepe filled with fresh bananas, strawberries and covered in whipped creme, then drizzled with chocolate that spelled "Happy Birthday" along the rim of the plate!  We feasted!

Next we went to the most amazing toy store I have ever been in.  My one year old grandson picked out his birthday present and we bought a few little things for his big two year old sister.

At home we opened one of his presents and watched him bubble over with enthusiasm before he and his mommy went shopping.  While they were gone my granddaughter and I did one puzzle after another.  She was amazing! 

For dinner there was salmon chowder, crab cakes, corn with red peppers and rice followed by custom desserts for all!  Cupcakes with tons of chocolate icing for the birthday boy and his sister, carrot cake for me and his mommy, and key lime pie for his daddy!

Happy birthday was sung to each of us separately, accompanied by the daddy playing piano and by the time I was ready to blow out my candle I had tears in my eyes.

I have never had a sweeter birthday in my entire life!

Just Birthdays

Birthdays come and go and I suppose the more of them I have, the luckier I am.  Not just because I am getting to live another year, but because the years get better and better.

I can't think of another year in my life that even touched this one.

I seem to have found the sweet spot.

Maybe all the hard years were just good training for this part of my life.  Maybe I just finally "got it" and know what is important. Maybe I have just been doubly blessed by incredibly beautiful family members and friends.

But I tend to believe there are no "justs" about it.  Each and every part of my life has been incredibly important in making me who I am today.  It's a process and I don't think any of us can bypass one part in favor of another and get it really right.

Each part of the journey develops an appreciation that is slowly refined and built upon.

Knowing this, I can't imagine what the next part of my life will be like -- I just can't believe it gets better than this!

I love holidays

I love holidays, but it is the every day stuff that often leaves a lasting impression. 

Those simple words and gestures that make up most of the long minutes and hours of a day are the real foundation of a life, which is why they are so important.

I don't need a great big Christmas tree, or a roasted turkey to bring gratitude to the forefront.

Sometimes all I need is the burbling giggle of my grandson, or the sweet smile of my granddaughter, the laughter of my son playing football with his daughter, or my daughter-in-law offering me a day of relaxation, the whistle of my telephone announcing a text from a loved one, or a phone call from someone dear, all of these things remind me of how lucky I am.

Sitting in a silent row eating popcorn while watching "The Cabinet Of Dr. Caligari" becomes an exercise in togetherness that will come back to warm the cold winter nights alone after I go home. 

Reading to my grandchildren at bedtime, watching my son string his guitar, or my daughter-in-law cook dinner:  it is the simple things I cherish.

I love holidays, but I love my whole life even more.

Thanksgiving

Thanksgiving is always one of my favorite holidays.  I love feasting.  I love the season.  I love any food made with pumpkin, especially pie and I love the whole idea of thankfulness.

My birthday always falls close too and I have never outgrown the joy of waking up and knowing it is my birthday!  This year it is a few days later, but close enough.

Today we wanted it to be as meaningful as possible for my two year old granddaughter so the past few days have been dedicated to teaching her all about this holiday.  Her parents extracted a bit of a movie that showed just the good things that brought it about.  They read her stories and gave her pictures to color and we tried to make the dinner as authentic as possible.

We cut up two little pumpkins and steamed them to make our pumpkin pie.  We cut up and mashed turnips and cauliflower and broccoli and made deviled eggs and corn bread and dressing.  We even cooked cranberries and raspberries and strawberries to make a compote.  There was a huge bowl of "yammies" and the obligatory turkey topped off with lemon spritzers and coffee.

There was music and singing after dinner.  Dancing and playing ball outside in the yard followed by a movie and snuggling inside.  Friends and family checked in all day long with loving words and wishes.

I have so much to be thankful for!

Momma's taking us to the zoo

Today we went out to breakfast and then to the zoo!  About two million other people had the same idea.  I have never seen so many people, or so many strollers in one place at one time.  We filed into the zoo, one after the other, while wondering if we really wanted to brave this kind of crowd.

The first animals we saw were dancing storks, which are amazing creatures.  The only problem was getting close enough to take a picture.  I didn't get there, but I did get to watch them and I have to say it is a sight I hope to see again.  They are so graceful and ostentatious!

Then we saw what is possibly the most beautiful cat I have ever seen.  It was a snow leopard whose tail was so big and fluffy it looked like it might weight him down.  After that the tiger came right up to the glass of his enclosure and I had my first real taste of how big an animal it really is.

We met up with some other people in the elephant section, which is made up to look like a far eastern temple complete with prayer wheels and gaily decorated shrines.  Ganesh was there in all his glory along with elephants and rhinos whose thick hides looked like modern day dinosaurs.

We saw lots of unusual animals, sea lions, white wolves, and a stilted fox.  That fox was right out of the Little Gingerbread Book!  I could see him urging the little gingerbread boy up farther and farther on his back until he sat on his nose and was promptly gobbled up!  Scary creature!

Tonight we ordered out and I had Saag Paneer, one of my favorites, but we sampled each others dinners and made a feast of it before daddy went off to band practice, mommy to bathe the baby and my granddaughter and I retreated to the living room to play dress up, sing and dance.

Later we tore up the bread for tomorrow's dressing and made the pumpkin puree for tomorrow's pie before popping corn and watching "Casino Royale."

Now everyone is in bed except for me and I will be there soon.

From dawn till dusk and beyond

A year ago I could not have walked around the block. 

Today I walked many city blocks with my son and grandchildren through quaint old fashioned neighborhoods and parks to a city train.  There we bought tickets from a machine and pushed the stroller up an incline so we could board.

The ramp would not go down so a man with a bicycle got on the train, stowed his bike then helped my son lift the stroller in.  After that he turned to me,  reached out and gave me a hand as I jumped over the void with my grandson in my arms!  It was partly his firm grip and partly the simplicity of the act that amazed me.

We rode the train farther downtown and then walked many more blocks to a restaurant called, Snooze.  It was a sweet little place with 1950's decor, round neo-modern booths and lighting right out of my Aunt Jo's living room!

While waiting to get in my granddaughter and I drew on the front sidewalk with chalk and when we came out someone had decorated our drawing even more!  The food was outstanding and my grandchildren were adorable the whole time we were there. Then we began the long walks and train ride back home.

By the time we arrived at the house both children were asleep in the stroller, but I found myself still full of energy, which was good because we still had a night of going out to dinner and shopping before baths and calling it a night.

I don't know how they live this way day in and day out, but for me it was a wonderful adventure and I loved every minute of a day that began before seven with music and dancing, moved on to a three hour walk and ended up late in the evening so I could write this thot.

Flying high

I don't think I have ever been happier in my life than I am right now.

It is kind of scary, because I'm just not used to such an extended period of joy when everything seems to be going my way.  But I'm not going to dull this joy by worrying about something that isn't even here yet.

I met a like soul on the plane and we chatted all the way across the country tonight.  Like me she has simplified her life right down to the bare bones and those bones are are so settled and content that they form a perfect bulwark for everything else.

There is no model for this in my experience so I am playing it by ear...

and the songs just melt my heart.

Weighty topics

Know how big a male Labrador retriever can be?  80 pounds! 

Now want to know why I’m telling you that?

Because I have lost one whole Labrador retriever off my body!

Imagine picking up one of those dogs. Now imagine how good it feels to put it down!

That’s me!

Celebrations

We love to celebrate our children’s lives.

The parties often begin before they are born.  Baby showers followed by naming parties and birthday parties move onto graduation parties and then to all sorts of other accomplishments. 

It’s for the child, but it’s for the parents too.  We love to show off our children!

The food changes from ice cream and candy to strawberries and champagne!  Oh and cake too, fabulous cakes made in extraordinary guises to fit the occasion.  The cake is a staple we never outgrow.

Some things don’t change.  

Parties cause us to remember all the beautiful times that led up to this one, or as one mother said while reminiscing about where she sent her son to school:

“I can’t complain.  It got you to where you are now.  A published author in Cookie Monster pajamas.”

Well-rounded children make life so much fun!  They are always our babies no matter how old or accomplished they become.

Celebrating them is kind of like celebrating ourselves.

Morning

The sun calls to me, warms me up and I awaken, but I don’t rise.  Instead I enjoy those last few minutes of stillness before my day begins.

Finally, my feet touch the floor and suddenly you appear!  It is as if my floor were attached to your warning system!  Beep beep beep, she is awake!

It is the first miracle of the morning.

Well, perhaps the first miracle is the sun, or maybe even just awakening to me.  That is the beauty of you.  You bring out the best in me.

Bringing out the best in each other is the best part of being human. 

A current of beauty

We are born into situations we have no control over, but life offers us opportunities to change that over the years. 

Lessons are learned.  Mistakes are made.  All kinds of things happen, but perhaps the greatest thing of all is learning what real love is all about.

Loving is such a gift.  It extends the art of being.

What enriches your life enriches mine, all the beautiful things that happen in your life spill over into mine. 

Then I need to share my joys with you and pretty soon we create a current of beauty, love and joy that grows exponentially!  Like eternity it becomes a circle that never ends, but continues to expand.

Catch yourself up in something like this and it is ineffably miraculous.

Lifestyle choices

I have a friend who wrote a poem called The Love Prayers.  They say, “Have no part of that which does not please you.”

That isn’t a hedonistic outlook at all.  It is a lifestyle that requires constant thinking and evaluation, not to mention hard work and dedication.

When I can’t do something with love I can’t really give it my best.  So I need to find the love in it or give it to people who can.

Finding that love can be one of the hardest things to do...

But it's not impossible.

Shadows

When shadows attack the best thing I can do is go look for bigger shadows and I don’t know of a better place than the woods.

The park is closer, but there is something primal about more isolated areas away from traffic and people that is healing for me.

The sheer size of the trees puts me in my place.  No matter how big I may feel, I am one of the smaller things around out there.

The paths offer me countless ways to go, each one uniquely ready to teach me something if I pay attention.  The shapes, the colors, the patterns!  The movement, the composition, the scents!  When I open myself to all of this my perspective begins to heal.  

It is all up to me: which way to go, how fast, even to move or not to move.  Every breath becomes conscious if I stand still and allow myself to simply absorb what is all around me.  And then, after a while, there is nothing – I am like all the other things standing there, existing there.  I just am.

Today the animals were all big and fat and fluffy, getting ready for winter.  A big-eyed cottontail watched me from under a tangle of bushes.  Squirrels scampered out of my path and up the bare naked bones of trees whose last leaves hung on like some people do, long after there is a reason.  A huge buck with a full rack startled and leaped into the air. The doe with him turned too, but she lingered long enough for me to pull out my camera.  I wondered why.

I meandered up hill and down; taking pictures, getting lost and then finding myself and finally following the sun back towards the western gate where my car was parked.  By that time shadows were long, but they were all in perspective.  None weighed me down.

I drove home relaxed and at peace.

Perfection

I suppose everyone has an ideal they carry around.  Something they imagine as near perfection, or nirvana, or heaven, or the ultimate way.

Mine is of a love that is so magnanimous, so unconditional, so huge and overflowing that even the ocean is small in comparison.  Such a love would end injustice wherever it was.  There would be no need for jealousy because that kind of love would understand all, be all, forgive all -- love all.

I’m so far from that kind of perfection it isn’t even funny.

And the one I experience it with is not perfect either, but he comes about as close as anyone walking this earth can. 

Absolute compassion.  Deep consideration.  Passionately dedicated to those things he believes in.  Always ready to listen and hear with an open mind.  Empathetic and understanding of all those fear based bad behaviors the rest of us seem to still have.  He would be the last to see himself as this person.

He is my teacher, my role model, my friend and I feel so blessed.

Wind diving

The river called me out to play

But Thor’s impending concert

Warned me away.

I went instead to a nearby park

Moored my car tightly

And disembarked.

Diving in I circled round

Sycamore bones dropping

Gray dead and brown.

Tree leaves crackling in currents spry

Man leaves floating

Like jelly fish high.

Hawk disappearing fleeing in fear

From spidery tree arms and

Plastic sacks drear.

The crows in their nests caw out their warning

“Storm coming. Storm coming”

Soon this morning.

                       

Squirrels scamper madly from main masts on down

Burying their acorns

In the wet autumn ground.

Children dance wildly puppets in flight

Arms and braids bouncing

Strings pulled tight

I ride on the waves of the sidewalks wet back

Wind dolphin frolicking

On concrete track.

The river called me out to play

But I chose to go to the park

Today.

Trait or less

If I could pick my most unbecoming trait, the one I least like and most want to get rid of it would be jealousy.

It is a trait hinging on the belief that love is somehow finite and limited.

The simple truth is that either I am loved, or I am not and probably most importantly…either I love or I do not.

True love wants only the very best for the beloved.  Anything less than that is something other than love.

A wise person once pointed out to me that jealousy is a childish trait, one we cannot help feeling, but do not need to act upon.  I understand that, but it is also a very painful trait to carry around.

I would never dream of owning the wind, or caging the ocean.  I cannot imagine clutching the sunlight to my breast in a tiny box, or the moonlight in a jar. 

Without jealousy to weigh me down, love might carry me away, drown me, warm me, and draw me into a place so perfect that my feet would never touch the ground again.

Shining moments

Traditions!

Every family has some. 

One of ours seems to be watching the first daughter work!  When our daughter had her first job at a Dairy Queen we used to all go, buy ice cream and sit in the back booth to watch her work!  When relatives came from out of town, we took them with us!

Her brothers delighted in standing in line and waiting for her to say, “Can I help you?” To which they would always reply, “I don’t know, can you?”  It was unceasingly funny to them.

So last night we went to watch her first daughter work.  We stood in line and her mother took pictures.  She asked, “What would you like?”  No one was there to give her a hard time with that line, but her little sister was there and so proud.

It was a perfect way to spend a special night with both granddaughters.  The one working was so busy and beautiful and competent.  That left time for the other one to tell me about her life and shine too.  

Passionate living

Passion is a gift.

I don’t believe people simply choose to live passionately.  I believe they might want to do this, but the actual act is something that requires so much commitment it is beyond sheer will power.

Passionate living means opening myself to possibilities many people wouldn’t even dream of.  It isn’t necessarily good, or full of common sense.  In fact, it can be, or at least can appear to be, just the opposite.

It means diving in with both feet, often with eyes closed in blind faith and a heart wide open to the possibility of incredible pain.

It is a willingness to take what comes because it is worth it.

It means that sometimes I must let go of heart wrenchingly dear dreams because they simply were not meant to be.

With great passion comes the chance of great pain – but it is worth it – and more importantly it is not really a choice.

And when it pans out? 

It is miraculous!

String Theory

I am my own worst enemy.  No one can sabotage my life better than me.

I believe that the quality of life depends a great deal on the outlook I maintain.  Once I become mired down in negative thoughts everything else goes to pot.

Of course there are negative events in life, but until they become the pivotal point there is hope.   As much as I know it is important to remain involved and connected, I also know that within my own sphere the choices are mine.

How I choose to react to everything is up to me.

Sometimes that means my life really must be lived in that very moment because within any given moment, most things are bearable, or even wonderful. 

Finding the love and the beauty of each moment is finding the God place, the place of power, the point at which all things are possible even if only for that moment.

A moment isn’t long, but it’s long enough, especially when I string a bunch of them together.

I think the art of good living hinges on string theory!   

The American Dream

I breathe a sigh of relief this morning, the morning after we re-elected a president whose wife wears her clothes over and over just like the rest of us, a couple who shops at Target and understands most women want to own their own bodies, take care of their children and families and have their own stab at equal standing with all the other hard working people in this world.

Today I believe we still have a chance to move forward into a place where we just might possibly treat all human beings with the respect, love and freedom they deserve, not because they are successful and part of the top five percent, but because they are human and part of the bottom ninety five percent.

Today my faith in the people of the United States of America is restored.  They are still thinking with their heads and acting with their hearts and while they know the road ahead will not be easy, they want it to be inclusive and just.

It’s hard to think of the future when your grandmother is hungry and trying to make do without using too much electricity, when your spouse is dying of cancer in a world where the technology to treat him or her exists, but is not accessible because you don’t have enough gold, where the welfare of your body depends on someone else’s whims. 

But the people in this country did just that.  They are willing to wait, to do the work, to walk the long road home so their children have a real chance to live the American dream.

Today

I cannot go to walk today, my timing's off, the world's delayed.

I missed the call that starts my day.  I know I can't go on this way!

Went to vote on the west side of town. Left off my earrings and wore a frown.

My socks don't match they're green and brown. Even my jeans are falling down!

It's cold outside, so drab and gray and the tornado siren just began to bray!

My coke is hot my coffee's cold.  I think that I am growing old!

Eternity

I love being in my own place with Bearnard snuggled up behind me.  Sleeping in my own bed with my own pillows, listening to the familiar creaks, groans and whirrs that say, “Welcome back.”

But I have other places where that happens too, places where I know I am welcome and where things often stay more the same than they do when I am “home.”

There is a warmth, a peacefulness, a sense of belonging that settles over me.  It comes when I hear your voice in my head or heart.  Sometimes I feel it in a hug, or a kiss.  More and more it stays with me no matter where I am.

And when that happens I have a sense of home that is mine forever.

Shatter Theory

Every culture seems to have its own creation theory.  Where we came from or how we came to be is something that really is interesting.  It gives a foundation to our belief system, like that hard surface children want under their Lego creations, or block towers.  Without it everything might come tumbling down at any moment.

We cannot conceive of being without being made or built. That made me think.

What if the Creator dropped his creation, his one ultimate perfect creation, one he had poured all of his love and skill into, one creation made of the heart and soul of a god!

It would shatter, spewing pieces of all shapes and sizes in every direction, all part of the original, but now indistinguishable from it or each other, seemingly random and unique pieces falling into being.

But the secret is that they would still be held together by the love of the one who made the original.  And those who understood that would find they were still inextricably connected in every way.  Except the one they found most obvious.

Of course we aren't gods so we don't see everything.  In fact, it is possible we don't see most things.  We see the things that seem important to us because we don't know what else to look for, but if we thought like gods our perspective might be entirely different.

The way it is

I go to Saint Louis and expect everything to be better.  Nicer.  More big city-ish with a dash of urban sophistication tucked in among the parks and museums.  It's always warmer too.  Everyone knows when you go south it gets warmer.

But the air is crisp and I am looking at wood piles and a fire pit. 

There are stones lying in the grass and I go over to look at them.  They are laid out among the left over violets and verbena from summer and tucked in among the leaves of grass some poet once wrote about.

I walk between the stones, following them as they morph from simple limestone, to deep red granite, its mica and quartz sparkling out at me from behind millions of years of time.  Ancient shells cling to other fossils and some sort of brown color swirls around the flat face of a stone that probably came out of river or creek bed.

A soccer ball lies off to the side, but I by pass it, preferring to follow the path between the stones, winding round and round through this Autumn day in the sunshine and shade of several huge old trees.  Coming at last to a bench right in the center of the stones I sit down and allow my mind the freedom to roam as it will.

That is the beauty of a labyrinth.  It takes me to places I've gone many times before, but it allows me new perspectives, fresh feelings.  It's never the way it was.

After a while I stand up and cut across to the soccer ball.  Dribbling it between my aching old toes I move back towards the house.

Time to write my thots.

Children grow up.

One day they are adorable five year olds and the next they are teenagers with friends of their own.

And yet...the child still lies deep within that tall, grown up looking shell.

Even better, the sweetness, the genuine-ness, still leaks out during the teen years drawing me in with an intensity that most adults cannot muster anymore.

Wouldn't it be perfect if we could somehow manage to hold onto all the most beautiful parts of ourselves as we age?

I think the world would be a much better place if that happened.

White Tailed Deer

Crisp Autumn days are made for hiking.

Pull on layers of clothing, a pair of warm mittens and sturdy shoes then just go!

The woods really are lovely dark and deep and they are filled with surprises.  Leaves of every imaginable hue drift slowly to the ground. 

The wind soughs over the prairies grasses and gray choppy waters of the lake, but the creeks are dried up and make perfect places to walk when dead falls block the trails.

We got lost.  It's hard to see the trail with such a deep carpet of leaves already on the ground and we startled two big white tailed deer.  At first they looked like huge dogs, or even coyotes or wolves.  It's easy to let your imagination get carried away out there, but as their heads popped up, they twisted in the air and leaped away, white tails twitching straight up as they disappeared.

And we used the sun to find our way back to the car, colder, tireder, happier, because we had seen them.

Firsts

There are so many firsts in the world and most of them are worth celebrating!

First word, first step, first day of school…..

First driver’s license, first day of college, first degree…

First date, first job and if you’re a real hard worker…..

First book!

I just received my friend’s first book.  I helped a little with the editing so I am celebrating my first acknowledgement!

The only reason I’m not framing that page is because I don’t want to deface the book, but I have a picture of it on my desktop and it makes me smile every time I turn on the computer.

I don’t think you ever outgrow firsts.

Camelot

Living in Camelot is alarmingly awesome.

I have to force myself not to remember that this too will pass, just like the bad things in life will.

All things are transitory.  It is the nature of being.  Only a dream can remain the same, but then don’t the Ojibway believe that this is the dream world?

Maybe it can last!  Maybe I will live out the rest of my years in this beautiful place and then slip on into the bliss of eternity barely knowing because I am already so happy.

On the face of an angel

There is nothing sweeter than the face of a sleeping child.

It makes me remember how deeply good they are, how they reach out to others and truly care. 

Children do so many jobs gladly, finding the love that eludes grown ups.

They live each moment with a sense of joy most of us ache for so is it any wonder that when I gaze upon a child’s face in sweet repose I am reminded of everything beautiful and good in this world?

The rosy flush upon the sleeping cheek, the gentle smile that whispers across those soft lips, the way they stretch and cuddle – makes my heart swell until I think it might explode.

Horror and Hugs

Watching movies is simply recreation for me.  So is reading.  Yet occasionally I end up involved in things that are a bit heavy and my mind enjoys the chance to step out of its usual rut for a while.

I am reading The Inferno and last night I watched a horror film.  Neither one are typical fare for me.  If I was my mother I would not have let me watch that film.  It was way too dark for me and I only kept watching out of curiosity.

All night long I had disturbing dreams, really disturbing dreams!  In fact, they are still hanging over me like a dismal net full of tiny bits of flotsam dulling my day.

Waking up has been a combination of relief and desire to diffuse that anxiety.

I need a rug rat – quick!  Someone to hold in my lap and cuddle close!  Last night I skyped with my grandchildren, saw their pumpkin hats on their tiny smiling faces.

That is much closer to my idea of Halloween!

Diseney esque

Believing that what goes around comes around is a sweet thought and a good one, but my life receives so much more than I ever give that I seriously doubt this old axiom.

It is true that I have gone through some bad times, maybe even as bad as I was able to handle on occasion, but always  -- Always  -- there have been good things sprinkled within those times.

And right now my life is so beautiful that I know I have never done anything to merit this.

The closest I can come to explaining it is the Disney movie where Bambi frolics in the woods with Thumper and Thumper is so adorable everyone wants to pick him up and cuddle him. 

The birds flutter in the sunshine over my head.  Fluffy tailed squirrels chase each other in the park when I walk.  Even the squirrel at the tennis courts sits in Disney esque cuteness watching me chase balls.

When life is this sweet I am almost afraid to breathe, but I do…

In and out in constant thanks for the beauty of the moment.

You are the provider

Having lived my life under the general auspices of affluence, it would be easy to believe that the universe provides for worthy souls.

Yet it obviously does not provide for an awful lot of people in this world and while it might be easy to say they do not choose to live well, that would be a cop out.  Small children dying of starvation and disease have not earned that state.

Human beings make up lots of stories about why things happen, why things are the way they are, how to circumvent the bad things.

The truth is more likely that we are often a self-serving, greedy, thoughtless group of creatures who choose to opt for the safety, comfort and power of our own families above all others.

The stories make us feel better about that.  They justify the intolerance and hate, the prejudice and injury we inflict on everyone else.

As election time draws near we are going to hear more and more stories justifying bad behavior and insane beliefs, but we are adults now.  It is time to put away our childish faith in absolutes and realize that the world depends on each of us to make it what it is.

Stick around

I remember thinking that life was basically over at 50.  The children were raised and gone.  The increase in my weight was matched by an almost constant decrease in health.  I began to burrow in for the long cold years of old age.

Surrounded by the elderly from a very early age I had definite preconceived notions about living and what life was all about.

Now, assuming that I will live to be about 99, I am discovering that life is divided into thirds, or at least mine seems to be.

The first third was spent trying to grow up and get settled.  I wasn’t particularly good at that.

The next third was bringing up my children.  I like to think I was pretty good at that.

This last third is turning out to be well worth waiting for!

The children are grown and have children of their own.  My health seems to have taken a turn for the better.   I can pretty much make ends meet financially.  I have meaningful work to do and time to do it. 

Instead of forcing me to dig in and begin the descent into oblivion, the universe has seen fit to send me love and joy beyond anything I could ever have imagined.  I am so glad I stuck around for this part!

Grace comes in unlikely parcels

 The ineffable beauty of the unknown rises from the mist of milestones marking the way.

Memories to strum by

When we are together I don’t notice the weather

The heat or the rain or the cold

But let me remember, this in December

When those times begin growing old.

I miss your sweet arms here the words in my ear near

So soft and so sweet and so bold

Watching scary movies dear, has become so very clear

Cause shivers are reasons to hold.

And stories at bedtime leave me feeling sublime

So sleepy as my arms enfold

Memories of the last time, when you’d climb in next to mine

And dreamtime gently took a hold.

When we are together I don’t notice the weather

But tonight I am feeling so cold.

My Place

“Everything in its own time.”

I heard this phrase from a friend yesterday, read it three times in my book, heard it on the television.

Is the universe speaking to me?

Am I listening?

Yes I am.

The sun rises every morning whether I see it or not.  Water flows downhill everywhere in the world.  There is a beautiful symmetry to this living.  It shows up in constants across the board, but I just don’t always notice it.

Sometimes the time frame is larger than my vision, the plan beyond my comprehension.  I think because I don’t see it that it doesn’t exist, or I used to think that.

Now I am starting to get a peek at the real miracles.  Over striving, thinking I am a necessary part of every little detail is both right and wrong. The world will continue quite nicely without my intervention, and enabling, and rending of my garments and hair.  There are enough people creating drama and dissension to keep the negatives flowing for a million years.

But I do have a place and I do have a calling to do what I do best.  Knowing what that is is the real quest in life.  Slipping quietly into my little place on the wheel means I will be at the right place at the right time and whatever happens is meant to be.

It is necessary to make room for the gifts that lie along the way and have faith that they will slip into my life when it is time.

Once upon a time

Dreams!

They can go from once upon a time to nightmares at the drop of a window making it a blessing to wake up.

I am amazed at how much better real life is than dreams, or at least my dreams and my real life right now.

That is saying a lot because I can imagine some pretty wonderful dreams.  Of course those are daydreams, tiny plays scripted and directed by me in my waking state.

Written by my subconscious they become frightening and confusing.  If I didn’t know better I wouldn’t even think they were mine, but they are.

I suppose it could be like Scrooge said, “an undigested bit of beef,” or, since I haven’t eaten any of that, or much of anything else lately, just the rumbling of my thoughts.

When life is too good to be true I start waiting for the other shoe to drop and when it doesn’t?  

All my old insecurities plot out a terrorist attack that flies in through the windows of my dreams and assaults me there!  It makes me wonder if I have some hidden need to suffer!

Maybe I need to make a dream catcher!  Then all my nightmares will get caught up in a web of love and I can get on with the business of real life.

Here I am living the dream and it, too, is as confusing as the sleeping one.  Not because it is frightening, but because it is the real once upon a time.

For once in my life reality is better than any dream could ever be.