Sleeping beauty

Sleeping beauty probably had a line of villagers waiting to show her their vacation pictures. 

Every time she opened her eyes, one of them flashed another picture before her and she drifted off into dreamland. 

For a hundred years she suffered through other people's need to share their joys and loves, dreaming of the day when hers would appear.

Envisioning Prince Charming racing in behind the wheel of his Ram Truck, carrying her off into the sunset and spending eternity dancing with him to some funky Western music always seemed to erode into a life spent watching bad television and mowing the lawn.

No wonder she couldn't wake up! 

A girl needs so much more than that, but she's gotta have some idea of what it could be if she's the one dreaming it.

So one day she cut off her long hair, dumped the magic mirror and went to work without all the cumbersome baggage she'd been toting around. 

And . . .

For the first time . . .

She had the energy (and the self esteem) to recognize the partner she'd dreamed of all her life.

Dandelion life

Despite the smooth way movies slide from beginning to end and books from page to page, my life is not linear.

It would really soothe my need for neatness and closure if it were.  I like one thing to be done, finished, over, signed, sealed and delivered, before I have to tackle another.

In fact, it is very difficult for me to do all the other things that need to be done when I have a project hanging over me.

A very big part of me would prefer to just dig in and do nothing else until one thing is done before I begin another, but that is not the way my life goes.

I am more dandelion than linear (and yes I realize one is a noun and the other an adjective, except that dandelion becomes an adjective when describing me.)

In a dandelion life one big breath sends me flying in every direction.  I find my efforts and interests as scattered as those feathery little seeds.

Although my ducks (or anything else) are almost never in a row, I still manage to take root and grow wherever I land.  In fact, I generally thrive.  Just like the dandelion.

Labyrinth

If you have one person who truly loves you, and you know it . . . and feel it . . . you know one of the secret ways to the fountain of youth.

If there are more?

Life becomes a labyrinth full of wonder.

Happiness is . . .

The happiest people I know are the ones who look in the mirror and see themselves.  Unencumbered by the world's opinions of it, unfettered by the media's version of it, unattached to tradition's unfocused memories, the person they see is not distorted.

Neither angel, nor devil, the reflection in that mirror is simply human with all the beautiful and fascinating cracks and crevices that come along with that.

Luminous with a passion for something, or lots of somethings, life is a Dr. Seuss tower of interests, balanced precariously between things inner and things outer, passion tempered with down on the farm practicality.

Meeting the darkness like one would storm clouds that bring not only thunder and lightning, but rain to water the soul and nourish new growth, life becomes a smoother series of ups and downs than some people might believe is possible.

Happiness is . . . freedom, diversity, acceptance, and . . .

One foggy day

The fog was so thick this morning I wondered if I had been scooped up in the wake of Brigadoon.

I half expected bag pipes to swirl through the mist and wondered if  highlanders might be materializing behind the trees.

Of course Illinois' flat corn fields are a far cry from Scottish moors and mountains, but there is something magical around me.

I keep trying to place it, but Alice's rabbit holes and Brigadoon's elusive village are someone else's dreams.  This one is mine.  Uniquely mine and I wouldn't trade it for the world.

Perhaps, someday, I, too, will be able to put it into words.

Right now I am simply lost in the beauty of it.

Tired and retired

Working, working working working . . . every morning up and heading out to work, every night sleeping in front of the television so you can get up and go back to work the next morning.  No wonder people dream of retirement.

And yet . . .

Retirement is the slippery slope into old age that can catch people unaware.

Unware of who they are, what they like, where they fit in.

A world where there is nothing to do, nowhere to go, no need to be,  destroys people faster than work.  When all the focus shifts from what do I HAVE to do today, to how do I feel today, it's not always the blessing it might have seemed.

Not having to work should not mean idleness.  It means choosing what to do and when to do it.  It means doing those things you deem most important. 

It means finding your bliss and letting it carry you into old age smiling.

She

She moves through this world like a soft freight train.

Whispering with the force of a tornado

Smiling like a desert sun

She fades into the background -- like a mountain in the mist

Flooding the world with her tears -- both sad and joyful.

Allowing passengers to come and go, glad to embark, glad to depart.

Stung by her own exuberance

But embracing the passion.

State

Blinding brilliance pouring through open doors . . .

Bursting forth or cowering in the corner?

Clinging to the darkness or flying into the light?

Freedom or eviction?

State of mine

State of mind

Never in my wildest dreams

My life is a fairy tale.

Like those iridescent bubbles children blow, the moments come and go, glistening in the light and then -- poof!  They are gone.

Sometimes they seem like dreams, but never in my wildest dreams could I have written my story and I don't imagine I shall attempt to write the next chapter either.

My imagination just isn't up to it!

It is happily ever after

When I don't know if the sun is up or down

If I am young or old

Plain or pretty

Hungry or stuffed

Tired or exultant

When my face aches from smiling and my feet tap to so many wonderful tunes I can't remember all their names

And it is always

Once upon a time!

Always

The most beautiful things in the world are the most elusive.

I cannot define them

or lock them in a drawer

or stuff them in my pocket.

There is no picture that does them justice

no taste that touches their richness

or word to describe the way they feel.

Like the wind and the rain, the sun and the moon, they simply are . . .

and because of that they will always be . . .

Values

Do you prefer hardwood floors, or plush carpets?  Ice cream snow cones or banana beignets? Cats or dogs, spring or fall?

As much as it's nice to have people like what I like, it's really a good thing there is some diversity in this world.  Imagine everyone wanting the same things.

It seems to be scarcity that revs up the value of things.  If there is only one fine china cup left from King Elmo's the fifth's tea set, we put it under glass -- to enjoy, but never use again.  There is sort of sadness in that. 

If something is really scarce, it becomes a quest.

So why can't we feel the same way about each other? 

Celebrate our differences.  Treasure our uniqueness.  Find the amazing beauty and value in those things that are just a little bit different -- or maybe a lot different?

Possibilities

Anyone wanting life to be truly linear is bound to be either unhappy or frustrated or both.  It is just never as simple as that.

For me life is like the ocean.  I just jump in and hope for the best knowing there are sharks, jelly fish and scary sea snakes --  but also seahorses, coral reefs and maybe even merpeople!

The possibilities I dream up have seldom matched the reality that swims by all on its own.

The perfect day

Imagine a fairy godmother waving her wand . . .

Suddenly snow cones taste like anything you can dream of, even real pumpkin pie -- and there is ice cream in the middle of them!

Cup cakes come in flavors like Marilyn Monroe (white cake with vanilla bourbon butter cream frosting) or French Toast (Bacon, maple syrup with icing swirled on top like a skyscraper!)

The movies are in 3-D and you have front row seats with tables and waiters.  Put the order in a certain position and someone runs out to bring you popcorn with butter and Parmesan in a real bowl.  Later there is pizza and avocado burgers with French fries and whatever you want to drink --  all served in real glasses and dishes with real silverware.

Add a lullaby sung and played on guitar just before bed . . .

Cinderella never had is so good!

A state of mind

I am beginning to believe that age is more a state of mind than anything else.

In fact, everything may be more a state of mind than anything else.

In the past few days I have walked block after block in order to park near wherever we are going.

I have gone swimming and played water ball with the children in the pool.

I have ridden bicycles, had bananas and berries for breakfast, and eaten pumpkin pie and ice cream snowcones.

I have sipped wine, eaten exotic cheeses and hummus and listened to live music that brings tears to my eyes and joy to my soul . . .

I have fallen into a fountain of youth, or perhaps just the sweet rhythm of life truly lived.

These are the best days

Texas is one long traffic jam!  Bumper to bumper almost from Dallas to Austin! 

But the company is sweet.

Our house is beautiful.

We have a gourmet kitchen, a courtyard,  two porches, one up and one down and the most comfortable beds imaginable.

There are bikes in the garage and a pool in the neighborhood.

Restaurants abound.

And today we begin our work in the Agee archives at the Ransom Center.

Could life be any better?

Like a baby

Always excited when I travel, I woke up before five yesterday, was in the car by seven and driving the first leg of my trip to Austin.  It was a beautiful day for traveling until I got to West Memphis.

Suddenly I was in what turned out to be twenty miles of cars, going approximately 1.2 miles per hour!  I made friends with the Native Americans on motorcycles who were briefly in front of me, but they eventually moved on.  And we crept along.

To be fair, it only took about two hours to get through those twenty miles.  It could have taken twenty!

And when I passed what was going on, building new roads (way off on the left) I realized that a lot of that waiting was because of the cars merging ahead of us.  (Those people who broke out of line and surged down to the front to push their way in.)

And . . . to be fair, there had been signs warning us to take an alternate route.  It's just my Garmin and I don't communicate that well and I didn't know how to take another route at that point.

But I finally pulled in to a hotel 12 hours after my supposedly 8 hour trip began and I slept like a baby.

Better than a dream

I don't know how many people get to live out their dreams, but I am sure that I am blessed.

The beauty of it is so overwhelming that it eliminates my need to plan, or control it.  I know I could never have envisioned life the way it is for me now.

Instead, I am learning to just breathe in and out and allow myself to be carried along.

I don't think it could be any better.  (But then I didn't think it could be like this!)

My Kingdom

I thought being a princess meant huge castles to explore, beds swathed in voluminous canopies and curtains, swans, glassy lakes and small boats to paddle around in.  I dreamed of spooky turrets filled with ghosts and fairy godmothers, Libraries with shelves of books so high they needed rolling ladders to get to them, dining halls filled with happy people and giant fireplaces to make them cozy.

That was when I was very small, when Sleeping Beauty and Rumpelstiltskin were my go-to sources and all dark times were guaranteed to end up happily ever after.

My father, bless his heart, felt it necessary to fill me in on the draftiness, dampness and lack of modern plumbing that defined old castles while I was still relatively young.  Life tried to disabuse me of the rest.

I suffer from the princess and pea syndrome, meaning everything about my being is super sensitive.  Nothing else about me is royal, or so I thought.

It turns out that the richness of life is there for the taking.  Happily ever afters abound as long as I keep going far enough, castles can be quite small and all people have problems, princesses, or not.

My own insecurities are the biggest monsters in the moat, my nightmares are the clouds that move in and out, but all kingdoms, humble as they may be -- are defined by the person who rules over them.

Twins

Twins.

Born to separate parents, years apart.

With nearly infinitesimal differences.

Those drops of not quite the same make all the difference in the world.

And I wonder if they were always there,

or learned through time,

or simply separation marks?

I come to the garden alone

Sometimes I wonder about humanity. If everyone had enough to eat, a decent place to live and good health care would they take a step up to make the world an even better place to live?

We seem to be a gnarly species, combative and unaware.  One that needs a cause, but for which reasons I am not sure.

It often feels to me as if our need to help is based more on frustration and anger than a need to truly love each other.

There are so many ways to inform people, to help them make this world a better place, but I mostly see posters inciting people to anger, promoting hate in the name of good and though this may help in the short run, it is not likely to have lasting results.

The seeds of peace take a long time to sprout.  Just jerking out the weeds, spraying insecticide everywhere, trampling the "bad" things won't make the flowers bloom any sooner.

Fertilizing and hoeing, watering and cultivating with intelligence, care and love, are eventually rewarded with something that seems almost miraculous.

As we sow, so shall we reap.  It's just common sense.

I wonder

I have always thought people are pretty much hardwired to be who they are, but as I watch two different sets of little girls turn four on Facebook, I wonder.

One set has already played a season of soccer and danced in their first dance recital.

Both express a young girl's love of fancy clothes and dancing.  Both like playing hard.  Both are very outgoing and happy.

One is following the more traditional role of teams and classes while the other is in a freer, slightly more diverse situation.

It will be interesting to see how such early training affects them.  Will one set be more likely to follow the crowd?  Will one tend to be more adventuresome?  Will one be more social, or happy, or deeper thinking?

Or will they just go their own separate and totally unique ways no matter what?  I know the parents are all very involved and doing what they think is the very best for their child.

It will be fun to watch them all grow up and see what happens.

Extraordinary people

There are a few, very few, people in the world who are almost always mirrors of others best sides.

Highly successful, genuinely good hearted human beings who take the words, actions, and even thoughts of others, sort out what is good and bad, throw away the bad, or awkward, and highlight the rest.

I know one when I meet him, or her, because I feel, first of all bemused, then beautiful, competent, glad to be there.

Bemused because they see things in me that I truly do not, but they are things I want and because of these beautiful people I get a glimpse of myself in that place.

Sometimes that's all it takes, a fleeting vision of our best selves and we take a step in the right direction. 

There is a difference between condescending acquiescing and true motivation and while many of us may not know how to express it, we feel it when it happens in the presence of these extraordinary people.

Gone Fishin'

What do I do that makes me happy? 

What makes me lose track of time, forget everything else?

These are the things that define who I am, the pursuits I want to cultivate.

It's important to be able to access these things, so it's better if they don't require outside sources.

My world is full of easily reached resources, things I don't need other people, or money in order to enjoy.  I like to walk - in the park, in the woods, around the lake.  I love to read and there is always the library when nothing else is available.  I like to write - my imagination takes me places I love to go.  And speaking of that, there is meditation and plain old day dreaming.  Sometimes I like to just sit and look at water, the way it moves, the depths of it, the creatures around it.

Happiness doesn't have to come without other people.  Some of my happiest moments are with those I love, but my own company is always here and it needs to be good too.

Gone fishing --  for happiness.

Mom

Twenty eight years ago yesterday my mother died.

I kept her wool plaid skirt and would press my nose up against it in my closet, afraid that when her signature scent was gone so would be my last little tie to her.

Ours was not an easy relationship.  We were both passionate people with definite ideas, but I loved her and for five years I was caught up in the deepest mourning I have ever known.

No one could replace Mom.  If I was sick I dreamed she came to me.  When I had something joyful to share, I picked up the phone to call her long past when that was possible.  I continued to judge myself by her standards for many years.

She died relatively young and looking back I realize that was both a tragedy and a gift, because I don't believe I truly felt free to be myself while she was alive.  I lived my life trying to please her when I should have been more focused on my own life.

That's the problem with living.  We are always so young, so inexperienced.  Even now at 64  I sometimes wonder what the parameters are for being me at this age.

Mom was a paragon of living.  Not always right, often painfully emotional, but very much alive and involved and my memories of her are, not to be her, or copy her, or be the opposite of her, but just to know that she did the best she could.

Perhaps that is the best legacy of all.

Truth

Why do people lie about things that are, or are going to be, obvious?

I suppose I can see why lying about something that might change for the better, might feel right.

The fear that I will lose the respect of those I love, or set myself up for more failure is a powerful motivator, but why do otherwise intelligent wonderful people lie about things that will come out later?

Why lie about something that will not only shake the trust of those who love me, but perhaps even hurt them?

Most of the people who truly love me are capable of forgiving me if I can be honest and upfront from the get go.

But when they have to face the world and explain why they failed (because I failed them) it becomes even more hurtful.

I think it is better to have one good, solid, loving relationship built on trust than all the alluring facades built upon deceit.

This day

I have seen this day before!

I know.  I can feel it.  Smell it.  See it in my heart.

Those fuzzy white things floating in the air are not cottonwood seeds.  They are feathers from angel wings.

And if I could reach high enough I might be able to pick a piece out of the sky.  It would be like icing on a cake, slightly hardened and sweet to the tongue.

Cotton candy clouds float by in sunlit splendor.  Yes, I have seen this day before.

I am sitting on the steps of the side porch. 

My uncle is playing with his yo-yo. 

Grandma is wearing peddle pushers, weeding her garden while the sheets blow high in the air on the clothes line.

I have seen this day before!

The longest day

Sometimes a day is more bizarre than anything I could make up.  This has been one of those days.

It started when my granddaughter was locked, not out, but in her room and could not get out.

Followed by a catch 22 where two government agencies demanded that the other provide the very thing I didn't have in order to procure the other.

Tack on a visit to Social Security and the day was complete.

We had ridden the parking garage elevator three times while never walking up, or down the stairs.  (Think about that one.)  Gone to two different buildings without getting the one thing we needed most and finished up using the one ID card they all said was not valid for them.  (For the only thing we accomplished all day.)

I have never done so much for so little over such a long drawn out period of time in my life!

Glimpses

The best things in life are ephemeral moments that flutter into my vision for the tiniest fraction of a second and then, are gone.

If my attention wavers I miss the portals that turn an ordinary life into an extraordinary one.

Life is still beautiful and wonderful and lovely, but that golden shimmer discerned by the mind's eye becomes a fleeting sense of something never quite realized.

After experiencing one of these moments I crave them like an addict craves cocaine.  That is why I like to be one on one with people, so I can savor them, love them, perhaps experience them within that magical moment when the universe allows me to transcend the now into the forever.

T.S. Eliot talks about them in "Burnt Norton".  He says it so much better than I ever could.

Burnt Norton

I

Time present and time past
Are both perhaps present in time future
And time future contained in time past.
If all time is eternally present
All time is unredeemable.
What might have been is an abstraction
Remaining a perpetual possibility
Only in a world of speculation.
What might have been and what has been
Point to one end, which is always present.
Footfalls echo in the memory
Down the passage which we did not take
Towards the door we never opened
Into the rose-garden. My words echo
Thus, in your mind.
                                   But to what purpose
Disturbing the dust on a bowl of rose-leaves
I do not know.
                                   Other echoes
Inhabit the garden. Shall we follow?
Quick, said the bird, find them, find them,
Round the corner. Through the first gate,
Into our first world, shall we follow
The deception of the thrush? Into our first world.
There they were, dignified, invisible,
Moving without pressure, over the dead leaves,
In the autumn heat, through the vibrant air,
And the bird called, in response to
The unheard music hidden in the shrubbery,
And the unseen eyebeam crossed, for the roses
Had the look of flowers that are looked at.
There they were as our guests, accepted and accepting.
So we moved, and they, in a formal pattern,
Along the empty alley, into the box circle,
To look down into the drained pool.
Dry the pool, dry concrete, brown edged,
And the pool was filled with water out of sunlight,
And the lotos rose, quietly, quietly,
The surface glittered out of heart of light,
And they were behind us, reflected in the pool.
Then a cloud passed, and the pool was empty.
Go, said the bird, for the leaves were full of children,
Hidden excitedly, containing laughter.
Go, go, go, said the bird: human kind
Cannot bear very much reality.
Time past and time future
What might have been and what has been
Point to one end, which is always present.