This is a holiday not acknowledged by everyone but I am indebted to this man and the movements that advance us forward.
I will not stand idly by as a few ugly people try to take freedoms, rights and our spirit away. I march towards the light, not backwards into the dark.
What three things do you seek?
I seek and find:
Grace
Peace
Beauty
To whom or to what do you give your power to instead?
What do you love? What brings you joy? Not whom, but what do you love?
It is the essence of life itself that brings me joy. No matter what the politics.
Laughter; hearty, safe, funny humor, knee slapping, giggly, punchy.
Beauty; nature, natural, a dark branch seen in the foreground of a sunrise, the sound of frogs, the smell of grass clippings, petting soft furry animals, the scent of jasmine, the telling of story around the campfire of life.
Colors – I adore colors, variety and monochromatic,
Using my senses in conjunction with information; Texture – Art – Music – Architecture – Visuals – Aromatics – Tastes
I love gardens, the cabin, the mountains, pine trees and conical shapes.
I love the change of seasons, especially fall with its sunset colors.
I love our master bedroom furniture in the treehouse. It is industrial, it is smooth, it’s organic, it’s hickory wood, it is hip and rustic. It’s masculine, feminine, sexy, distressed, with a waxed finish.
I love eating and creating. I love being domestic. I love to care for our home, our marriage, our children.
I love to teach.
I love yoga, meditation, mandalas, aromatherapy, crystals and eastern philosophy .
I love reading, walking, chatting.
I love to write, especially freehand in cursive and I love, absolutely love to revise and edit on the computer.
I love to learn.
I love peace and serenity, the falling rain and snow. I love the clean look of snow, before contamination by footprints, tracks and dirt.
I love pizza, the simplicity of bread with sauce. I love nuts and lemons and onions.
I love life.
I love Cindi and her pleasant, easy disposition. I love our kids. I love M. But these are whom’s and not what’s.
Ok. Go! Write for 10 minutes straight, as fast as you can. What do you love? What brings you joy?
I have a lot in me. Looking around, I have notebooks half filled, fully laden with words from years of self-actualization, retrospect and vicious venting.
I love the turn of a phrase. I love the sound of words. I embody the language as my instrument of expression. I have music in me, still.
It’s the dots. Every interconnected incident in my life has taught me that I just need to connect the dots. I could totally ignore the dots and complain all day long, “Woe is me”. But I loved and still love to connect the dots. It is irresistible. And, when I connect the dots, I see finer, I hear clearer and I understand better.
The Universe, the angels, the Goddess are talking to me. They show me several paths, they guide me with hints along the way like crumbs for Hansel, only they are dots.
I have choices now. Depending on how alert I am to the dot connection, how willing I am to draw the line from one to two to three dots and form a picture, is how I decide to choose how I live.
If one scenario doesn’t work out, you can change your mind again. Not too much is etched in stone yet we make it seem as it is, stomping our feet if our first option doesn’t pan out. And, consider it’s not supposed to work out because a much more desirable outcome awaits you. Or, what you gain by the experience is well worth it because it will bring you to a new place of comprehension.
Yet, the cause and effect of our choices ripples out to others, like the scientific conclusion that butterfly wings fluttering in the Amazon affect the wind system. If our choices have consequences that affect others, then it is wise to choose them with discernment.
I step lightly and barefoot along the pebbles of the river stream. With glee I watch, listen and touch the gemstones glistening, wet and wild, every color of the rainbow. I also notice the trials, tribulations, the jagged edges of rocks. I pay attention to slippery, mossy, tricky stones. I am wary of the currents. I look out for wild animals. I try to avoid being bitten by mosquitos, snakes and venomous creatures if possible. The cool, clean and clear freshwater flows and laps on my toes as I dip them in. The water washes and swirls around my ankles.
I am alert to the power of water. I can’t just be admiring the smoothness, the colors and the perching arch of rocky promontories. Boulders are stacked and scattered and I need to be conscious of sharp protrusions where I can be cut, where I may fall.
I cannot just revel in the beauty of the entire scene around me, underfoot, behind me, above me. I am cautious, I consider my choices of where to step, each footprint forward. I keep a keen eagle eye for any and all discrepancies or danger.
That is the balance in nature. Nothing is all good, nor all bad.
There are pearls and jewels laid out for us. Do we pick them up and carry their beauty with us? Or do we walk right on by? Do we even see them? Or are we stepping on them, crushing opportunities?
We are given our six senses for a reason. I want to see these things. Yet, I have the free will to ignore it all.
I choose to own my will power, I choose to align it with nature, Goddess and the flow. I opt to move as effortlessly as possible through my life in peace.
Have you ever had to stop all communication with someone just to give yourself a break from the drama? Do you just need time so you can boil, ruminate and see yourself as victim for a while?
That works for a little bit.
I realize I don’t want to be a victim anymore. I truly want to be the Mistress of my fate, not that Goddess or the Universe isn’t there laying out mines, gifts and treasures for me but I need to recognize them as such. It is I who must choose. I no longer elect to be a victim, survivor or heroine. My power rests in the flow of my Goddess.
I just changed my FB picture to this. Today is sandwiched between David Bowie’s birthday and his day of passing…it just seems like the French poets get how life is such a dichotomy.
Cindi, our dog, has convinced me that souls do talk to each other and/or destinies are pre-determined.
At the very least, there are signals laid out for us if we observe with care.
Gifts and options are spread before us along the way.
We have free will and can choose to recognize and explore them or we can close up our hearts, ignoring our power and discarding opportunities that could have been beneficial to us.
I read somewhere that the artist who doesn’t ponder death much is probably not much of one. I understand. Once you go there, your creations get richer, deeper. If you avoid it, it will still come.
The ego does not want to be forgotten. If you read, you know a writer can entice you into their world, their time and space. If you appreciate music, you know a composer can tear your heart open, send you back in memory and land you back safely with the last note. If you love art, most of what you stare at is speaking to you from a gone dimension.
I believe we are all creative. I believe we all want to be remembered. I know I want to express myself so I will leave some sort of legacy, as well as share my soul. One human form reaching out from the crypt to another, alive and in the future.