Permission to Cry

When the world delivers an enormous disappointment
an unfathomable and incomprehensible act
We are left with our own thoughts and prayers
We hope that the world will not travel this road again
and yet we know we have visited this disquiet before
And we are left with a scar so deep,
the only foreseeable salve is permission to cry
for a change

I Can Kick the Can

I can remember playing kick the can.  I had the best hiding spot.  For some reason, the seekers kept passing by, yet they never saw me.  Each time, as they approached, I got that nervous, excited tremor throughout my body.  My heart would start to race and yet my anxiety made me freeze.  I was the only one left not found and my entire team was "in jail", but I could not bring myself to try and run out from my spot and kick the can.  I was frozen with fear. I had the power to free my team, but could not break out of the safety of my hiding spot.  I did not want to try, because I did not want to fail, but in not trying, I assured my own failure, and with that failure came an anticlimactic end to the game.
When I think back on this, I realize, not much has changed.  I am still afraid to try.  In some oddly demented way, I am preserving an image I have of myself.  If I don't go all out, I always know I can do better, but if I try my hardest and still lose, well then I truly am a loser.  Funny when I look at it this way, I can see what I think I am doing, but if I continue to hold back, I'll never know if I measure up the way I think I do.  I know I can win, now it's just a matter of letting myself go for it.  The mere act of trying will be my success.  I can kick that can and free myself from the limiting confines of my hiding spot, one can crushing moment at a time!!

Paw Prints Moving Grace

A dog gives you loyalty and eyes that warm your soul

companionship and comfort that makes your heart feel whole,

eternal friends and harmony, as their dog tags jing-a-ling

and when their presence leaves us, their absence sorely stings

The ever present greeter, is no longer there

a house so full of life, may now seem oh so bare

No tapping of their claws on your freshly polished floors

gone are the sounds of their rhythmic, doggie snores

A water bowl now silenced, a leash that's put to rest

cherish all the memories of your once endearing pet

Holly touched your hearts and reserved there, her own place

and etched now there within, are her paw prints moving grace

Live & Learn

When we think we know all the answers

the draw of the pursuit vanishes

and we stop living

allowing the inevitable descent

of existence

into a state of arrogance, indolence, 

and a life without purpose

Infectious Failure

The reality of my failing 

is as blatant as the weeds in my yard

No matter how hard I work,

a tap root has cemented itself in the clay

modeling a snare of suffocation

spawning seeds of invasive and deplorable quality

Until all that remains is useless excess

Offering no value 

and infectious in its state

Just Desserts???

Words 

can be the icing on the cake

the knife that cuts it or 

or the mouth that eats it

It's your choice 

whether you want to 

wear it

spear it 

or swallow it whole

Sure Fire Shit!!!

As I took my first sip, it was bad, but it was not so bad that I couldn't tolerate it.  I have done this before, but I did not remember it tasting like this.  It was warm, so perhaps that was why it tasted different.  The more I drank the worse it got.  As I continued, it became the equivalent of esophageal  assault.  It hit my tongue and slid to the back of my throat and instantly, it ravaged my taste buds, burning them as it saturated my mouth.  As it traveled down my trachea and into my stomach, the affects lingered and suffocated my being.  The more I drank, the worse it got and yet I had to continue.  This is my required torture, every three years I must "prep" for the clean sweep.  The prep is horrendous from beginning to end (pun most definitely intended).  If you have not guessed yet, I am talking about the night before a colonoscopy.  The no food rule is by far the easiest.  After the first hunger pain subsides, it really is nothing, but that drink, oh man, that drink, magnesium citrate...holy shit, or wholly butt is more like it.  That substance macerates your entire insides and generates an expulsion of crap that doesn't stop.  It comes out like a hose on jet propulsion mode and there seems to be no end.  You lie down to get some rest from the exhaustive exertion and your gut is churning, so violently that it's both audible and visible.  I guess you could say it's stimulation for all the senses. 

I am told to drink one bottle and two hours later drink another. Then it's suggested I get a good nights sleep and then four hours before the procedure I am told to enjoy another beverage that bores a whole in my body in more places than one. Getting through the first bottle took me two hours.  As a result, on my nice empty stomach, I am enjoying a non stop cocktail of crap-o-colada.  I tried the cherry and the grape and they were both a fruitful of FAIL!!!  After suffering through the first two bottles, I thought I would have some respite, but that's when the action really began.  When they say, be sure to be close by a toilet, they aren't kidding.  Try sleeping on it.  I had a permanent indent from the toilet seat, I was sitting on it for so long.  Even when I wasn't "producing"anything, I never knew when it would strike, and there was very little lead time before the explosion.  These weren't bombs, they were streams of stench with no resemblance to anything solid.  After a night of all shit and no sleep, I drink my third bottle.  I struggle to comprehend how there can be anything left in my colon but this sucky, sugary drink I am being forced to consume, but, believe it or not, there is still more shit to shed.  With the dawning of a new day, I am now starting to think about the drive to the office and I start to sweat with fear that I won't make it to the office without a little leakage.  (Is that gas, or is there substance behind it?)  I am not kidding, this thing sucks, but I make it to the office and I am comfortably in the hospital garb and reclined in the bed, safely tucked in, complete with a pad to absorb anything that my slip. (How comforting to know I can lie in my own crap and still protect their bedding!!)

Despite the fact that I am sedated, I do awake, just like the first time I was lucky enough to have this procedure done, but to my shock, they are discussing my diet!!!... Can you imagine my embarrassment, after all that work, I was still full of shit!!!!!!!  

Apparently, a diet high in fiber requires more extensive prep.  Couple this with my "redundant" colon, and I am now looking at three days of prep and four to five bottles of internal assault.  Three years can't be far enough off.  Maybe by then, they'll have discovered a less violent way to clean house, but at least it's a sure fire way to shed five pounds and by sure fire, I mean sure FIRE!!!!!

Weigh More

Words can be as heavy as a boulder or as light as a feather
But the more weight they carry, the longer the impression lasts

Goodbye Rosanne

It has been quite a while since I have posted anything in my blog.  I have come upon some difficult times and it has slowed the flow of thought, I am usually so adept at.  First it was an illness that made it difficult for me to focus and more recently, it has been a lack of motivation, but as I sit here tonight, I am saddened to realize  I have one less reader.


My cousin Rosanne passed away Sunday morning July 22nd and today was her funeral.  It was a beautiful tribute with an abundance of family and friends to say goodbye.  Her daughter gave an amazingly poised and moving eulogy. Her children and husband were so brave and strong and her friends and family could not find the words to express their sorrow.  It was a day of indecisive weather, teetering between sunshine and showers, exemplifying the conflict the heavens felt and shared; while they were happy to receive Rosanne, they were equally sad to see the void that would be left behind, in her absence.



As supporters approached and expressed their sorrow for my loss, I could not help but feel somewhat undeserving of their support.  It was not my loss, as much as it was humanity's loss.  She treated everyone with the same kindness and sincerity she extended her family. She was truly compassionate and empathetic, regardless of whether you were a relative or not.  She was a nurse who took on the world as her personal patient, wanting to fix what she could and touch whoever she could with her heart.  To simply see her as a valiant fighter is selling her short.  She braved and battled for five long years to enjoy every moment her life was extended.  She never displayed her pain or struggle, always looking vibrant and happy with what she was given, all while maintaining friendships and traditions that brought her as much joy as her work, as a nurse practitioner.  She lived to give and only wanted, for one more day to give more.



While I sit and think about the person she was, I am forever grateful that I was fortunate enough to have spent some time with her, enjoying the spirit she was and the soul she has infused in all, who have crossed her path. She has left an interminable impression in the sands of time, enticing any and all beach-shore visitors, to try and replicate the footprints, she has left behind.  A challenge we would all be the better for. 




Thank you for leading us all to the shoreline of sweet sincerity.  You've made me want to be a better person...all my love Rosanne, sink into the sand and rest in peace.

The Trinity's Trident

and when the tines of reality pierce us

there is nothing we can do but melt the metal that has pinned us

and find a renewed trident

Fingers Crossed

With fingers crossed upon my heart
I pray that pain will soon depart
and peace and pleasure come to one
whose grace and poise supplies the sun
with warmth and brilliance touching all
who coincide with her windfall
an inspiration shining bright
lets gather prayers and all unite

Steps to Reality

If we don't speak it - reality is silent

              If we ignore it - reality is overlooked

                                   If we avoid it - reality is evasive

                                             If we don't accept it - reality is elusive

                                                                        If we don't see it - reality is blind

                                                                               Regardless of what we do - reality prevails

Angry Eight

If 

anger were 

a number it would 

be 8, twisting and 

turning,entwining 

itself around, 

until 

it 

strangles
it's victim, leaving
a separation of two
distinct fragments,
still attached and
lightly touching
yet sharing
zero

Feather Moor

Faith is the quietus that feathers the anchor from the moor

When we believe, we are at our best

Gulliver's Travels

I am told it is through that which challenges us that we grow...well, I'm feeling like a giant these days...more challenge than I want but I'm willing to grow if it will dwarf the Goliaths I've encountered lately.  Looking to find my Lilliput and live large!

Don't Take My Words ( Complex Migraine - TIA continued)

With eyes closed, the horror continues, the numbness travels and the breathing becomes more labored and frantic. My heart races and I can feel each pulsing course, as it booms through my left side, and then an erratic flutter or jump or something that disrupts the thunderous throbbing.  After a searing pain on my left side of my upper back, my shoulder goes dead...squeeze and release, squeeze and release and waves of heightened intensity ebb and flow leaving me over sensitised and then nothing.  I am asked a question and then it happens, mid sentence the words are sucked from my mouth and for a moment I can not speak.  I hyperventilate and gasp for breath, thinking, DON'T TAKE MY WORDS, and by some grace of GOD, they are given back, but the realization that I may lose them terrifies me.  I am asked to sit up and it takes every ounce of strength to get myself upright.  My body convulses and trembles like a tree losing it leaves during a hurricane.  I can not stop the shaking, but the headache subsides for a brief moment and then it throbs back and the entire flush occurs again, but the numbness comes and goes.  I am still holding on to some feeling on my left side, but it disappears and resurfaces on it's own terms.  I am given oxygen and an IV and it helps calm me down.  The breathing returns to normal and the numbness is now just in my fingers, I continue to squeeze and release believing it is making a difference.  The fear begins to slip away and I start to feel better, almost normal and quite silly for panicking so fiercely, but the episode repeats and subsides in waves of intensity.  When the swell begins, it is the whole build up all over again, and then it surges and dies down.  When all has stopped, I am left to feel foolish and almost embarrassed by my over reaction, but then it returns delivering a new dead zone, my face, my neck, my throat and the fear returns.  Intervals of ear issues accompany the ordeal, some replicate entire pressure, as though I am submerged under water, others are sharp pains in my ear, teeth and somewhere in my head.  Throbbing is present in various parts of my body, my head, my left arm, my neck and my chest and then it subsides to minimal coursing and as I wait, I bounce between thinking this is serious, to this is nothing but a head ache.  It is the most conflicting experience I have ever endured and when I am told this is either a mini stroke or a complex migraine, I have never, in my life, prayed for a migraine more intently.

Complex Migraine or TIA?

It began with pulsating intensity, a throbbing head, to the  point I believed it was visible  and producing a bobbing head atop my shoulders.  I must lie down, my only thought.  Once prone, the pressure intensifies, I am unable to move, nausea arrives and then the motion, violent spinning and swirling much like an amusement park ride, but utterly alarming. I tremble even as I write this, reliving the horror.  Strobe lights join the frenzy, rapid flashes burn my closed eyes.  A rush of cool heat floods my head.  The hair stands on end, sharp enough to pierce my pillow and then a flush of, Novocaine like numb, starts to wave through the back of my head.  My fingertips on my left side feel the pin pricks my head encountered first and then the numbness spreads up my hand to my forearm.  I am the recipient of intermittent pins and needles alternating with numbness.  I clench my fist and as I clench and release my left hand, it strikes me.  I am having a stroke, but wait I can't have a stroke, I won't let this happen, I refuse to accept my fate.  The clenching and releasing continues and I realize it mirrors what is running through my mind.  I am grasping and clawing to hold on to my life as it has always been.  Rapid breathing overwhelms me and I am struggling to stay conscious, to remain aware, to simply stay.  No matter how much I try to alter what is happening, this is beyond my control.  I can not stop this, I have no power, I am weak, numb and powerless.  Is this really happening, or am I dreaming and I'll awaken from the nightmare, once this excruciating headache stops pounding out it's mantra.  Strobe lights, dizzy, weak and I'm scared, keep the eyes closed, this is not really happening....

Smothering Amelioration

Accepting our own shortcomings is a prerequisite for a breakthrough toward extensive enhancement,
If we refuse to see our flaws, then we are nothing but a stubborn fool, smothering amelioration

Over the Top- Under the Radar

I have always been one of those people that has a slight affinity for individualism.  I love to be different than the masses, but there is a delicate balance between standing out and being odd, the later of which has no appeal to me.  In order to make an impact, I find myself a tiny bit obsessed with creativity and I may be guilty of going a little bit over the top.  This only happens when I find myself  directing a project or predominantly in control of the end result.  I am not one to take over and dictate, but I am one to volunteer when I feel I have the creative drive to generate something impactful. Everything I do becomes, to some extent, a personal extension of myself, yet I  am not comfortable being the center of attention.  If I sprinkle each event with just enough of a twist, it allows me to stand out for a brief moment and then recede back into obscurity.  It gives me a sense of achievement while also allowing me to keep my image nebulous.  A rather interesting dynamic, flamboyant  flare flying under the radar.  It's a balancing act and lately I've had a great deal of time to think about how crucial balance is in our lives.  Perfecting equipoise however it strikes me.

Echo

Be an echo ~ spread and touch the world

Shoe Challenge

Meeting a challenge is like finding the perfect pair of shoes 

                                                                                  ~ you still have to master the walk

Love Bud

Love is not measured or weighed
it is an intangible that requires nothing
but a little time to blossom

Say What?

If I continue to force myself to write something every day, will I eventually find what I want to say?

Which Wood?

The clear cut mind mills a trees' wood into a fence with straightforward lines and a precision that generates a perfect pen of limited diversity
The creative mind resembles an aged tree with an extensive network of limbs and branches stretching and twisting to yield an individual and unique vision

A mind's varied path is a good indicator of how broad one can think

Which wood are you?

Bounce Back

When we celebrate confidence
we also need bouncers, to stop self doubt from crashing the party

Gun Powder - Pixie Dust

I read a friends blog the other day and it was all about mobs and being a part of an organized group.(http://www.sallylucywrites.com/2012/04/notes-from-the-cottage-get-mobbed-its-fun/)  I loved the story but it made me a bit sad.  It made me realize I've spent 49 years on this earth and I have no mob to speak of.  I am not a part of anything.  I do not actively participate in any groups or organizations and I have nothing to show for myself as far as community involvement.  I am horrified to think I've lead such a sheltered and isolated existence, offering no value or assistance to anyone. 

I was not always so far removed, but it has become a learned behavior.  I do not want to be responsible for anything other than my own family.  I do not want to be the bridge that falters or the transport that fails.  I have enough relying on my shelter without expanding my campground.  I am a pop tent not an RV and I know my limitations, yet I feel selfish and negligent.  I am capable of more, but I fear I am a failure and disappointment, among an army of soldiers that have me beat in the fields of courage, purpose and selflessness.  I do not want to be the failure that had all the tools but none of the focus.   What keeps me from being the soldier that doesn't need to fight but chooses to anyway, out of a sense of honour and dignity?  It is an unknown factor, that I continue to search for with each entry in my blog.

One of these posts will be the rifle that fires me up and sets me off on my life's mission, but until it gets loaded, I'll keep writing and sprinkling my pixie dust print until the big guns are found.

Target Practice

if we imply something
it is never truly received until we draw a bulls eye
shooting around the target is a misguided arrow
that can cause great harm if left in the wrong hands

Sometime

Sometime

the best gift is sharing

just that

Funny?

If everything were fun would we all be smiling
or would our desire for enjoyment recalibrate to a higher level
requiring an increasingly more extreme whack to the funny bone?

Still Frame

Courage is a state of mind
Confidence is a frame of mind
Uncertainty is a still frame, that states nothing

Saving the Worms

We've had a good amount of rain in the past few days and while others are dismal to see this weather, it brings back fond memories for me.  When my daughter Kerrin was very young, maybe 6 or 7, she created a wonderful rainy day memory for me.  As we would take the short walk down to the bus stop, and the streets were damp and slick, she would make intermittent stops along the way, to save the worms, (you know all those worms that mysteriously appear on the pavement after a good deal of rain)   Well, Kerrin would stoop and pick up each one and move it off the pavement to the grass.  She was determined to rescue them from a horrible death by traffic, whether by foot or car.  As she was scurrying down the street, she would shout, "We have to save the worms!", and she did her best to rescue as many as she could before the bus came.  Often, she would end up sprinting to the bus to catch it before it left.  Many more worms were in need of saving, but her time had run out.  Every rainy day, when I walk the streets and see all those worms strewn about the pavement, I think about all those worms Kerrin saved all those years ago.  All those fortunate worms that had someone looking after them.
 It got me thinking about the similarities to my own life and the life of any parent, guardian, or caretaker.  We are there to help our children succeed, steer them in the right direction, and watch over them until they are successfully on their own.  We are their sole saviors for a long time, until they find their own patch of grass, to build their own futures and then we are more, a fond memory than we are a necessity. My life is proceeding toward the second phase of this cycle much faster than I am ready for.  Much like Kerrin, I wish I had more time, but the bus is already turning the corner and I can't keep it waiting.  My oldest child is already on the grass and he's ventured on to find the perfect spot to burrow down.  My second child is in my hand, but wiggling out toward the freedom  of the turf as well.  I have done my job steering them clear of dangers and keeping them safe.  Their  success is now more in their hands than it is in mine.  They've meandered their way toward a safe and secure future and the hand that saved them, is a fond memory that is no longer able to contain their will.  I've resigned myself to the prospect of all of us, turning toward a new landscape, that delivers a brighter more independent glade, with rich soil, to harbor as many worms as we can gather.  Saving worms never sounded more appealing!

Pendulum's Imprint

My expression ebbs and flows with my mood
My topics are a direct reflection of what stirs my mood, what has touched me, or what provokes me
Whether it is a personal experience or one I am witness to
My blog is like a pendulum and with each swaying motion, it scratches out a new entry,imprinting another layer beneath the surface of my existence

Life's Spin Cycle

Life's spin cycle

With the slowing revolutions comes a tempered existence
of thankful caution making way for moderate progression

until the force builds
with expansive adventure leading toward oblivious aggression

and then the next convulsion starts
delivering another dose of vertigo

Life's spin cycle,

where we forget how difficult our past was
until we find ourselves coming full circle and reliving the nightmare

Meet, Greet, and Swallow

Once you find fear and greet it,
it loses it's edge and becomes a softer pill to swallow

Plod On

When we don't like what's in front of us
Where do we go?
What course do we take?
Do we go back, go around, or plod through?
If we go back, we are allowing the obstacle to win
If we go around, we are only avoiding the inevitable, circumventing for a time, until the next hurdle stalls our course
Plodding through is a life lesson in perseverance,
So get muddy and plod on

Personal Charting

Choosing the hard road is unconventional and turbulent
but when the course is laid and the path cleared
it is a personal victory that only the cartographer can lay claim to

Picture your own path and find yourself

Fall Back Plan

At that moment
when you know the fall is coming
yet you can't brace yourself because you're paralyzed with fear
you learn to swallow your pride
and accept the out stretched hand
that is there to catch you

It's always been there to cushion the collapse
you just never thought you needed a fall back plan

The Selfless Win

The selfish may have the biggest trophy
but the selfless have the biggest badge of honour

Hazy Head

My hazy head has left me
Floating in a fog
I'm gonna have to skip
Writing in this blog

Maturing Past

Sometimes we hang onto things because we have nothing else
We hold onto the past, keeping it alive as our present,
because it is all we know
and at the very least,
it is something we can count on.
We know what to expect from it
and even if the past we know, is not a particularly enthralling one,
it is a comfort to know we have something.

At some point, it becomes overwhelmingly apparent
that the past we've grown accustomed to,
no longer appeases
and at this juncture,
it is more than obvious,
that we must mature beyond our past
and flourish into the future.

Are You Bonded?

The more one has invested

the more one has to lose

but choose to stay removed

and your gains are non-existent

and your losses -

even greater

Life is a bonding experience

Stay connected

Sun Dried Ink

When my world starts getting brighter, my creative ink evaporates with the heat of the sun
Only to be returned with the next torrential rain storm

Resource Riddle

A resource we do not have to dig for

it is free of charge and abundantly present

We waist more than we should

and we complain about it constantly

Despite the fact that we check our stash on a regular basis

we still lose it far too often

Regardless of what we do

we are unable to keep it contained

and despite the fact that it expires and replenishes itself

we lose a small piece of it forever

constantly

???????????????

Time's Up

Colors of Callaway

Six years ago today I watched my dog die.  It was a horrible experience that brings me to tears each time I relive it.  Eight months prior to the accident, we adopted a dog from a shelter in Kentucky.  He was driven up to New Hampshire and we drove up to meet him.  He was a mess of mangled fur and stench, but the worst of it was his mental state.  He was only eight months old when we got him, but in his short life, he had already been abused. He was terrified to enter our home and it was a tug of war to get him into the house.  Once in, he would cower in corners and hide under anything he could fit under to get away from us.  It was tragic and incredibly difficult to see the terror in his eyes when we would approach him.  We spent extensive time and money retraining him and he grew to adore us.

 He was highly intelligent, and soon learned how to roll down the window in the car.  His resistance to containment would lead him to jump out of the car window while we were driving and it soon became habit to lock the window mechanism in the car so he couldn't jump out.  He loved other dogs, and when he was out playing with other dogs he was happiest.  He was extremely well behaved outside and off leash and extremely receptive to training in all regards except one.  He became intensely aggressive and protective of us in our home. I believe this was his way of paying us back for saving him..  In some way, he thought by guarding and protecting us, he was keeping us out of harms way., a harms way he was all too familiar with based on his prior situation. Whatever happened to him prior to finding a life with us, drove him to trust few humans, but we were his pack and he was determined to keep us safe. Ultimately, we would have to kennel him if any visitors were coming over and even still, he would growl fiercely and bark upon their entry.  I had young children at the time who were constantly in and out of the house with friends and it became apparent that we would not be able to keep him.



We loved him so we agreed to keep him at our home until they found him another home.  We did our best to continue working with him and keep him active.  One morning while playing with a neighbor's dogs in their yard, Callaway ran just outside the yard.  Another neighbor, driving much too fast hit him.  As he lay unable to move, but still alert, we ran to him.  His eyes locked on mine and I could see his body relax a bit.  He was terrified, as was I, but we quickly scoped him up and put him in the back of a truck and drove to the vet's office.  As we drove on that cool crisp morning, I could see him trying to hang on, glancing my way occasionally, but in far too much shock and pain to stay focused on me.  About half way to the vet's office I could see it was getting tougher and tougher for him. After one last look my way, he closed his eyes, and the life escaped his body.  As he lay in the back of the truck with me and my friend by his side, the mass amounts of blood released from his body and the puddle grew to touch both of us. At that moment, I knew he was gone.  It was heart wrenching and crushing to watch him go, but I am glad I was with him in his last moments.  I truly believe I was his closest friend on this earth.  The short eight months we had him were the best eight months of his short little 16 month life and we gave him the only pleasure he had ever experienced.

He has found another home and as I explained it to my children, this was the only home he could have gone to, that was going to be better than the one home he knew as ours.  I still miss Callaway and think of him often.  Shortly after he died  I wrote this poem about him and I think it sums up his life quite well...

Colors Of Callaway

White with wonder of the newborn snow

Temperamental tan, that comes and goes

Funny freckled feet that bound in play

Black with darkness from his younger days

A regal blond beauty, so meek and mild

Stained with shadings of a life once wild

His off-white streaks, mirror his mind

Chestnut brown eyes, so soft and kind

Pink with innocence, Grey with despair

A spectral of markings, should anyone care

Conflicted in colors, awash with distress

Shining with promise of future success

Inheriting Kindness

The whole idea of hereditary instincts and skills fascinates me.  When I was a child, my mother was extremely crafty.  She would have me scour the neighborhood for interesting items from nature.  I would come home with a bag full of acorns, pine cones, chestnuts, milk weed, wheat stalk, bean pods, and anything else, other than leaves, that trees shed in the fall.  We'd then find an interesting platter, plate, tray, or other source of containment and she would place a candle in the middle that complimented the items I had found.  We would then, hot glue the various treasures from nature around the candle.  We had to be certain to vary the heights, textures and colors of the items, but the end result was a beautiful centerpiece for the table.  This was just one of the many projects we would complete and I must say, this was my favorite.  When we lit that candle or passed them on as gifts, my spirit was equally illuminated with the shear joy of what we had created.  I am told I have inherited that creative flare and this amazes me.  How something that is mind driven can be inherited.  How does that work???  I understand the concept of inheriting physical talents, but when it comes to the brain and how we process information and our preferences, it astounds me that these types of skills can also be passed down from generation to generation.  Just like dogs that are bred to herd, or retrieve, rescue or guard. This too, baffles me.  How a mind, whether human or animal, processes information is something one can inherit, just like hair or eye color, or the ability to run fast, play an instrument, or be a mathematical genius.  All of these traits are passed on...  Does this also mean, compassion, kindness, and generosity are also transferable, or are these characteristics that are taught?  What determine which attributes pass through DNA, and which attributes require influential instruction? 
I guess it's the skills of the heart that are not inherited and that's a good thing.  This means we are all equally capable of being benevolent.  It comes down to how many of us choose to exercise our spirits for the good of others and that is a pattern that can be adopted by any and all, regardless of skill set or predilections. Live by example and warm the world with kindness.

Perfectionism

Perfectionism is an addiction to perpetual progress
It seems as though this would be a good thing
but it is the addiction itself, that handcuffs our happiness
freeing oneself  from these shackles
would be a progress of burgeoning re-birth

Wind Song

We always have the wind to thank for movement...



It brushes past us
and at times through us
stirring the leaves,
that are our thoughts
rustling sounds
that settle our stream of inspiration

A symphony in the woods,
that speaks volumes
without shedding a word

Wandering Nomad

an extrinsic provocateur is really just a wandering nomad
throwing it's weight around, hoping to saddle someone with it's burden
don't be the jackass that gets stuck carrying all the baggage
bear only what you need to make your journey better

Wine Bubble

When you look through glasses, 

it's supposed to clarify your vision

When I look through my wine glass

everything is distorted,

but that's before I take a sip

Once consumed,

 the wine bubble proves to be an elucidating elixir

Empty

A silent scribe and an empty slate
have nothing to offer
and that's me tonight
silent and empty

Visiting Silence

Is there anything more beautiful than silence?

Silence, that allows you to be with your own thoughts

to be you and love it

to ponder what ever you would like

to discover the value of silence, is like rediscovering yourself

or redefining yourself

Silence has no prejudice, no expectations and no limitations

It is liberating and nonrestrictive

Once you become adept at embracing silence

you intoxicate your independence and initiate belief

Silence accepts everyone and rewards those that visit often

Be a silent frequent flyer and travel the world of thought

Do or Be Done

There are many things in life we can practice

                               but living is not one of them

                        Life, 

                               it's a do or be done activity

Friend for Life

As I waited to have blood drawn today I heard a news story that caught my attention.  It was about a dog who stood vigil over it's friend who had been hit and killed by a car.  This dog, sat in the middle of the road with it's friend and refused to move as cars continued to drive past.  Some kind people eventually stopped and put cones up, so the traffic would not run over the one dog that was sitting vigil.  The police and animal control were called and the two dogs were eventually picked up but the entire story struck a chord with me.  I do think the dog sensed that her friend was dead, but even if she didn't, she knew her friend needed help and she was capable of getting that help.  The loyalty and compassion of this dog was astounding.  Here was this dog, refusing to leave her friends side, putting herself in danger, but only doing what she knows; to protect and be loyal.  How touching is that???   Wouldn't it be the greatest thing on earth to have friends like that? How many people truly have friends that would put themselves in danger to stop traffic for you?  Friends that would sit by your side in your toughest moments and stay there, regardless of what transpires around you?  Friends that would go to any lengths to maintain your dignity? That's what this dog did, she sat until help came, preventing more cars from hitting her friend as she lie motionless in the middle of the street.  Anyone who claims dogs don't have the capacity to form meaningful bonds with other animals, hasn't seen what this dog did.  Similarly, there are countless other stories that can attest to the fact that animals are at times, more humane than humans.  We could all learn a lesson from this dog on friendship and humanity.  Dogs aren't just man's best friend, they are exceptional companions, for all, for life with a capacity for caring that exceeds their size by leaps and bounds.

Break Time

Being able to recognize when the guard has left his post
is an essential part of the escape plan
Make a break too soon
and it could lead to recapture
with a longer term to serve

Cottage Cheese in a Blender

I've started running again or, in my case I definitely need to say jogging.  It is a very slow crawl that carries me the three and a half miles I've started with.  I take my IPhone with me for the music but it's also a comfort to know that, should I start to feel a tightening in my chest, I have 911 on speed dial.  I can also call someone if I can't make it all the way and need a ride, but so far neither of those scenarios have happened.  The mere act of jogging brings me back to college when I first started to jog through the mountains of Vermont.  I went to school on the border of Vermont and New York, so I used that to my advantage.  I'd tell people I ran from Vermont to New York hoping they'd be impressed but I think they took one look at me and knew there was some sort of loop hole there.  My jogs these days aren't nearly as long as my runs when I was a real runner, training for a marathon, but I feel good about them.  My neighborhood is quite hilly, so it certainly isn't an easy run.  As a matter of fact, yesterday I had a car trailing me as I dragged myself up one of the many hills I encounter on my course.  I stopped to let them go, but they insisted I keep running.  I'm not sure what their objective was, but I think they were concerned I was going to pass out.  They trailed me up the hill and once I cleared the crest, they were gone.  I'll tell you one thing, my pride kicked in and I really started to pick up the pace.  I went from a shuffle to a scoot in a heart beat.  That short burst of energy hurt me in the end though.  The end to my run requires completing three hills that bring me to my home.  The first hill is rather gradual and as it levels off, it leads to a steeper hill that leads to yet another, even steeper hill.  When I came upon these hills, by the last incline, I was physically ill and my feet were barely clearing the pavement.  It was a brutal finish that left me close to tears.  I was then greeted by my daughter who asked, "Where else did you go?", in disbelief that my run took me that long.  Today was a better day, the weather was warmer and I dressed more appropriately in a running skirt/shorts.  I was feeling great, hitting my stride and totally focused on my running and then I glanced down at my propelling thighs...ARGHHH the horror!!!  All the excess action my legs were displaying was a shock to my rhythm and I nearly fell into oncoming traffic.  I can only imagine what my backside looked like..(.can we say cottage cheese in a blender???)  It's amazing that my own ability to propel myself is so repulsive, but after I settled down and recovered from the shock, that visual became my motivation and I refused to let what I look like, stall my progress.  There's enough stall in my stride as it is, but I'm working on cleaning the engine.  If you see me, please don't stop, but an encouraging honk is very welcome!

Hidden Tax

Some of us are better at hiding
~ fears
~ aspirations
~ passions
~ sorrows
~ ourselves
However...
Just because it is hidden, doesn't mean it isn't there
The mere act of concealing, is emotionally draining
The tax it commands, is a fare, far higher than its toll
It is a lifelong debt that will never be forgiven
as long as the mask remains

Somtimes Life Sucks

When your life sucks and you know it,
how do you handle the discontent?
Do you pretend it isn't there or do you confront it head on?
Pretending, merely instills a false front
while confronting it head on, disrupts the facade.
Either way, it is an unpleasant reality
that we would rather not acknowledge
Publicly or privately, life sucks sometimes

Waste Not

There are times when we think the cessation of the the present is a sad scenario
but there is always a time when finality is the best option
Holding on may fool us into thinking nothing has changed
but it's a sad misconception when we hold on past the point of expiration
If we can recognize the breakdown before it decomposes
we'll save ourselves a lot of wasted energy

Routine Adjustments

It doesn't take long to get used to a new "routine".  I can remember when I was more comfortable scratching out a blog with paper and pen, than I was entering it directly on the computer.  Now I've come full circle and I've made the adjustment, from the scratch to the tap, and it has become my, preferred method.  Tonight I found myself without access to a computer and as such, I had to revert back to the primitive method of chisel and block.  While it felt oddly familiar, it was no longer quite as satisfying to me, as it once was.
It's funny how quickly we can adapt to change.  After all, isn't life essentially all about adaptability and how smoothly we can ride a new tide.  The more readily able we are, to acclimate ourselves to the changing currents, the better able we are, to enjoy the surf. So, the next time the surf's up, don't be afraid to ride the wave, it could end up being your new "routine".

Happy Escort

Once you find happiness, 
let it be the escort you choose to accompany you everywhere

Revealing Insight

Someone once told me that she couldn't figure out if my blog entries were thought provoking or just sad....

My thought on this is:

Our darkest moments expose who we really are, in raw incandescence
and if surrendering to sadness, reveals insight, then I wouldn't want to miss it

Dredging

Suspended in silence
Words and thoughts left to billow in the wind
Fall loose
and sink
like sediment or silt to the bottom of a pond
Where they now rest
Unwanted and forgotten
until the pond is drained and we dredge the bottom for cleansing purposes

Grand Canyon

Success is only as grand as the canyon you climb out of
It is only as sure as the value you assign it
and it lasts only as long as the canyon is deep

Finding My Fifty

Approaching fifty is quite a landmark event.  I went for my annual checkup yesterday and was told I have all sorts of things to look forward to. First of all, when I actually turn fifty I'll be eligible for a shingles vaccine that will reduce my chances of getting the painful nerve disorder by 60% .  Yes!!! Happy Birthday to me, can't wait for that shot in the ass.  In addition, my metabolism will get increasingly slower and slower over the years, causing me to need less food and more exercise.  Oh goody!!!, that was just what I was hoping for.  I want to be at the gym working out a good portion of the day, that way, I won't be tempted to eat those calories I can't afford anymore. While I'm at it, calcium and vitamin-d are increasingly important for the aging adult and I was informed that I should be supplementing my diet with Viactiv and appropriate supplements to compliment my poor eating habits. Seeing as how I am lactose intolerant, surgically forced into menopause and not a candidate for estrogen supplements, they have ordered a bone density test be done.  This will indicate just how much bone loss I've experienced so far.  From this I believe they can predict exactly how much I will stoop over with each coming year, so I can alter my clothing accordingly (anyone know a talented seamstress?).  They've also ordered a cholesterol test, blood tests to check my thyroid and cell count, and I had my first EKG. I am also due for my annual mammogram, to be sure I am not growing anything other than more fat cells in my breasts. With my cancer history, I'm one of the fortunate ones that had my first colonoscopy done at age 47.  I am now required to get them done every three years because I have a redundant colon that attracts precancerous polyps, thus I am now due for my next colonoscopy.
I was also informed of the link between sugar, inflammation, heart disease and cancer.  None of this is good news for me, the sugar laden, sweet maven, with ovarian cancer and hereditary heart disease. Medical studies also show that those that live longer lives, eat 8-10 servings of fruits and vegetables per day, avoiding animal products and prepackaged foods, in addition to doing weight bearing exercise.  My question is, how much weight bearing exercise could they be doing, if they're only eating fruits and vegetables???  I used to live off chicken and power bars because I thought they were giving me the protein and nutrients I needed to maintain an active lifestyle.  Good thing my doctor straightened me out, I was clearly headed down the wrong path there.
The entire time I was at my appointment I couldn't help but feel like I was being called out.  Yes, I am guilty of enjoying sugary treats, I probably eat more processed food than I should and I am overweight, but I do not think of myself as an at risk, active older adult, but I guess that's what I am, a "fat-risk" adult.  Not exactly the new title I was hoping for, but I guess I can live with it, if it'll move over and give me more "space"!!!
Ironically, as I was walking my dog this afternoon in the woods that surround my neighborhood, I ran into some older people that were also out walking.  We stopped for a brief conversation and the entire time we were talking, I was looking at them as "elderly", but truth be told, they were probably only 10 years my senior.  As we parted ways, it occurred to me, that I was probably looking at myself, 10 years from now.  These walks would be considered my weight bearing exercise and walking would probably be all I could muster on my new diet of strictly fruits and veggies.  If this is where I'm headed, while I don't relish the meal plan, at least the accommodations are immensely better than the alternative.

 Finding My Fifty and learning to love it!

Give More

Return on investment,  matches what we put forth ~

If you're getting less than you want from life

Then give more

Face the Water

When it seems as though everyone is enjoying the beach
Be mindful of those that are struggling with the surf
They may not call for help, but the drowning is apparent if you're facing the water

One Tough Nut

Have you ever gotten a pistachio, that has no crack in it's shell?  That nut that is frustrating in it's perfectly encased packaging???  You just want to take a hammer to it and smash it open?  If you do that, then the nut is just a crushed mess of intermingled crumbs and shell.  Not very appealing, and certainly more difficult to salvage the good pieces.  Well, I'm going to liken this to a person who is hard to deal with.  You know the ones that are unpleasant, rude and extremely guarded in their interactions.  They are the ones that leave us wondering, "WTF???" Our first inclination is to snap back, giving them the same rude and impatient behavior they've given us but when you work in the customer service field, it is even more important to understand how to handle this type of person and once you get it, it's quite surprising. When you deal with all kinds of personalities and quirks, the one thing that can make a difference is, conversation.  How we phrase what we say and how we handle, the less than cordial customer can change an altercation from either bad to good, or bad to worse.  Surprisingly, it's not only what we say, but also, what we hear.  You see, everyone has a story and until we unearth that story, we will never really know where this person is coming from. By simply pausing, and being receptive to their need to talk, we become the recipient of trust, but the pause needs to be sincere.  It can not be a halt to the conversation where we put our receptors in freeze mode.  As tempting as it is to stop listening and start thinking about our own response, we need to listen without interruption from our own thoughts. This can be the leveler that makes us all more human and more approachable. It's actually one of the most rewarding aspects of working with a wide array of people. Once you catch a slight break in the shell, the eventual release is a gratifying revelation. So the next time you encounter a tough nut, as trying as it may appear, hang in there.  The hard exterior is almost always protecting a softer, more vulnerable interior that is awaiting an appropriately timed displacement.

Finding Fire

A blanket offer is merely a cover up, it's not really intended to supply anything but a superficial feeling of warmth.... It's best to find your own fire.

Teetering Dark Abyss

If we live our lives in fear, we will merely survive, living a guarded and cautious existence
If we live our lives on the edge, we may teeter into the dark abyss,and fall victim to corruption and destruction
If we live our lives with sincerity, we will find the courage and honor necessary to avert the trappings of our own downfall

Facing the fears, 
that bring us to the edge, 
of our own self destruction, 
is the only way out of our teetering dark abyss

Egg Hunt?

Oh, boy, old habits die hard.  It is Easter time and as I prepare for our family gathering, I can not help but revert back to the days when I would hold an annual Easter egg hunt for my children, their friends and the neighborhood kids.  Each year it grew to be more and more elaborate. From the initial invitation, to the preparation, I was a victim of perfectionism.  I always had to have a unique and personal invitation, something no one else had seen before.  (One year, my daughter Kerrin hand drew each invite.)  This was my "thing".  I loved the idea of having a massive egg hunt, entirely organized the way I envisioned, from start to finish.  My vision, to make everyone invited feel as though they wouldn't want to miss it.  I would ask others to bring some type of food for the event but I was in charge of all the eggs, prizes and the stuffing and hiding.  The idea developed after my children were left out of a neighborhood hunt in my old neighborhood.  As I kept them hidden in the house while the other kids hunted, I thought, the only way to  change this scenario is to do something myself. The following year I found myself in a new neighborhood and I decided my children were not going to miss the party because I was going to have it and thus an annual tradition ensued.  What started out with 300 hundred eggs and 20 participants, soon grew to 1500 eggs and 60 hunters.  It was a huge undertaking that I thoroughly enjoyed.  I would spend hours finding unique toys and candy to stuff the eggs with.  I would also have prize eggs that rendered the finder a special something they could select from the prize closet. I had different sections of the yard and woods for hunting, divided into various age categories. I would spend hours being sure that each age category had the same number of eggs and that there were equal "special " eggs for all ages.  When I tell you this was an undertaking, it was an event I would spend months planning and coordinating. All year long, the egg hunt was a thought that lingered in my mind.  Whenever I was out shopping, small toys would catch my eye and I would be thinking, "that could fit in a plastic egg, better buy a dozen".  Fun for all was my priority. I had an over abundance of prizes because of the wide range of ages that would attend and their differing interests.  In addition to the hunt for the children was a party for the parents. It was always delightful chaos and I loved being able to catch up and party with my friends and neighbors.
I now have an attic filled with the empty egg shells, and some left over prizes that I have yet to donate.  All of this makes me both happy and sad.  The memories are fantastic and I hope I created some great memories for others as well, yet I was sad to see it all come to end, but when my children got too old for egg hunts, I could no longer justify the time and money I spent on this event.  
As I prepare for an egg hunt for five children, my old inclinations resurface.  I am out searching for cute little toys to put in the eggs as well as a variety of candy.  I also have my prize closet fully stocked with more prizes than children, just in case..., what I don't know, but better to have more than less.  I focus on my menu as well as the toys, but deep down, I long for the days when my lawn was covered with plastic eggs and the street was loaded with anxious hunters!  As life moves on, I am now seeking the "prize egg", that will bring me back to the days when I was able to bring joy to my children and their friends, with something as simple as some plastic eggs filled with candy, strewn about on the lawn.  The hunt is on!!!

Taking Action

When you don't want to be the person you are

and you know the person you want to be

then simply,

Let your actions be an extension of the person you want to be remembered as

Free Expression Tunnel

When I went to visit my son at NC State, one of my favorite spots on campus was a tunnel that brings the students underground for a short stint.  This tunnel is called the "Free Expression Tunnel", and it is just that.  The students are allowed to express themselves here, without limitations.  It is an array of words and drawings in large scale spray paint. Some would look at it and see only a jumble of  spray painted mess but I saw creativity and inspiration here. Whether I stood back and saw it from a distance or inspected it close up, it was an impressive display of integrated individualism. Many were overlapping each other, while others stood out quite graphically, all while maintaining the character of the tunnel, as it's own unique piece of art. A visual village of parts that creates an unexpected whole. 

What a lofty idea, to converge varied voices, images and concepts without fear of retribution. 

In an odd way, that is exactly what my blog is, although I am the sole contributor.  It allows me the freedom to say exactly what I am experiencing, without having to face the judgement of others.  There is something to be said for being anonymous, unknown, a masked writer.  I can hide behind my words like a party goer at a masquerade.  I can be a fool or a poet,  a clown with a pen or a scribe with a virtual soap box.  I do not need to face the crowds and cower in fear of their rejection or stammer over my words and filter my thoughts.  This is my free expression tunnel and I'm the sole designer.

Tired Progress

When you're worn out and tired, the best thing to do is give yourself a goal, however small. It gives you a purpose and an avenue toward progress.  If you can show me someone who does not want to progress, I'll show you someone who is obsolete.

Feed the Read

Here's a question I get asked all the time and I have to be honest, I generally don't answer it truthfully.  It is a question that has nothing to do with my weight or my age, nor does it have anything to do with embarrassing moments in my life.  It's a question people ask quite often and most people have an answer that quite possibly changes as they age, or varies with added exposure. 
The question; "What's your favorite book?" 
I generally answer with either a recent read or a classic that has endeared itself to me, but if I were being totally honest, I'd say my favorite book has more characters than I could possibly remember.  It's plot and story line are non existent and yet, every time I open it up I unearth something new and previously undiscovered. It's rich variety, is it's best feature.  You can pick it up and put it down  at will, without regard for missing a beat. It is easy to follow and enlightening, and it's Roget's Thesaurus... I love it!!!
All those words and their synonyms.  I could spend hours perusing it's pages, searching for the perfect word to savor. Just the right word can transform my delivery with smooth, delicate undulations, or bold, bitter force. When I find that word, that can escalate my thoughts and express them with a spirited vibrancy and quintessential pith, it nourishes my mind and electrifies my soul.  It is the one book that nurtures and enriches my existence and I can't imagine a more satisfying read.

Assuming Expectations

     ~ Meet Assume & Expectation ~ 

Two free radicals, out of one's control

         Avoid, at all costs, a marriage of the two 

for they will most assuredly lead 

        to an eventual birth of Disappointment

Solitary Definement

The next time you are alone, think about this...

Selective solitude is a choice

Isolation is a punishment

in other words...

you are either opting out

or out of options

Rolling Stone

When we know the stone is rolling down the wrong path
Do we try to change it's course
or do we watch it crash?
Jumping in front of a moving object can be dangerous
but conceding to it's  destruction is negligent

Pursuing Sparkle

When sadness swallows your sparkle
strike a superficial smile and pursue it's promise

Stream Line

As time ticks on I am thoughtless, blank, empty
with each passing minute, I feel the pressure of incomplete obligation
Limitations of time leave me wanting more
but the clock denies me
It is a daily challenge to accommodate accomplishments
within an allotted time
As the task wedge expands, my freedom diminishes
I begin to resemble a fish caught on a line,
flailing about in a personal struggle to break free from that which binds
Time is the tether that stifles my stream

Fancy Footwork

Prepare for the eventuality, don't wait for the event to occur...
Recognizing the inevitable need for change is the prelude to the process
Taking that first step may be the hardest footwork to master
But once initiated, it's a waltz you'll glide into
If you wait for the party train to move you, you've already missed the dance

Courage to Give

We've all put ourselves out there at times, but the worst feeling is when you put yourself out there and the reaction is an immense disappointment.  You can almost hear the thump of it's dead weight as it falls.  It is equal, in it's crushing reality, to rejection, a personal affront that could cause some to become shell shocked, and withdrawn but the stronger variety will realize that the act of offering is not so much about the reaction to it's presentation as it is about the courage to give. Every person will not see things or understand them in the same light.  We can not worry about being misunderstood, we can only try to contribute. 
If we allow apprehension to steer us, it is a faulty navigation system and we run the risk of being eternally lost.

Know What?

If we all knew the answers, then who would care?

Shrewd Lion

Heart of a lion, courage of a shrew
What's the shy and lonely to do?
Cower in silence, until the day
the shrew comes up and finds her way
Blazing a path of confident light
She finds her voice and fields it's flight
Sending it off to pierce and soar
The shrew has finally found it's roar

Silent Vacuum

living in a silent vacuum, sucks all the life out of you

but no one hears it

Black and Blue

As darkness closes in
I swallow hard
I close my eyes and nothing changes,
I think,
I concentrate,
I seek the light
but illumination evades me
The chase is on
but still darkness
it envelopes my entire existence
I can either freeze or stumble through it

I choose to proceed
and as I do, bruising is inevitable
the extent of which will not be known
until a dawning breaks through
but still
darkness
of the black and blue variety

One Wrong Thread

When everything is in place and all is aligned
We often stumble upon a loose thread
Some can leave it, while others have to tug at it
Trying to achieve perfection in the suit
The trick is to be careful not to antagonize a critical connection
Pull one wrong thread and it may cause a total unfurling
Leaving us entirely exposed with no recourse from the reveal

I Don't Want to Know

We can't get the answers because we don't ask
We don't ask because we fear the answers
We fear the answers because we don't want to face our reality

Avoiding the unpleasantness of our reality, is the equivalent of neglecting a need
All of which invites failure to the precipice

Approaching Mystery

My dog Stella's recovery progresses every day.  While she is still unable to jump and run after other animals the way she used to, I am happy to say she is now able to walk for an hour with minimal lag time.  The hills in our neighborhood have become more manageable and she attempts to run on occasion.  She now jumps and climbs low hurdles that we encounter in the woods.  She manages the stairs in the house, as well as maneuvers her way onto the living room couch and our bed, and it's all very welcome!

Today on our walk, she did something very uncharacteristic and it got me thinking about what a difference an approach can make on a situation.  As we walked the neighborhood, I noticed she picked up the pace and started to really dig her feet into the ground as she walked.  I could tell, if she had her legs of last year, she would have been darting off in a fury after whatever it was she smelled, but the situation being what it is, she was limited by her own weakness.   She was doing what she could within her means.   As we came upon a cluster of bushes, she casually, walked in to the brush, head firm and stared.  As I caught up to her, (yes, she was a head of me), there it was, a cat, sitting in the mulch, staring back at her.  The cat looked scared with it's back hunched up, and Stella looked dumbfounded.  Neither one moved and they remained transfixed for about 45 seconds.  Only when I called her off did she hop around a little, as if to say, "but I want to play".  The cat never moved, never hissed and never flinched.  It remained in it's post in the brush, just watching.  This was the same cat, that six months ago (and two healthy legs ago), Stella chased up a tree.  Her approach then was to barrel at the cat, running full force, with no plan but to get there as quick as she could and pounce. The cat, seeing a 65 pound beast darting toward it, had no alternative, but to run up the nearest tree, hissing.  That was it, Stella altered her approach and she ended up being the cat's meow!

That simple episode, made me realize that the end result is ultimately determined by the way in which we initiate action.  Tackle something with haste and fury, and that which you seek eludes you.  Come up to it calm and focused and you may find, you have time to capture the detail behind the mystery.

Immersed in Inertia

When you lack depth perception, everything appears flat and dull
The same is true of depth of soul,
The slight of mind, lack the ability to project a bright future
Their structure is merely a shallow shoal
Immersed in inertia

Building a Rainbow in 3D

If our actions were transferred and reflected in a portrait, how many of us would like what we drew?

Imagine this, for every kindness,we are given a stroke of color from a painter's palette and for every harshness a splash of black.  In addition to this, consistency would earn depth, but one transgression would erase a layer of your painting.
Think of what a challenge it would be to maintain a rainbow of color in the picture, with intensity to match.
Life is just a drawing of a different nature, but try to envision what color you contribute to life with every action you render and let the rainbow flourish.

Connect the Dots

Resistance to change stunts growth
Unwillingness to adapt shortens longevity
Refusal to accept falsifies existence
Inability to connect nullifies life

Silent Sea

Waiting for a wave of thought
to wash a shore ....

Looks like the seas are calm tonight

Mind Joggling

My peaceful place is anywhere
that I can be alone
Weeding in the garden,
building walls of stone,
basking in the solitude
afforded me at night,
calmly I regenerate
as darkness turns to light

I'm ultimately tranquil
when I venture out to jog,
with each revolving footstep
I clear the densest fog.
My mind is refreshed
while endorphins get me high,
consciousness is bouncing off
my slightly heavy thighs

Physical and mental
both a vital part of life.
together they insinuate
to numb the jagged knife.
Life can prove chaotic,
overwhelming in it's pace,
I find my inner peace
and offer it as global brace.
For only in the giving
of my visceral virtue,
can true peace be attained
as all pretense now subdued.

Present to Receive

Sometimes it's a choice and other times, it's what you are given
In either case, be happy you are present to receive

Doors of Doubt ~ On Your Way Out

The minute you allow self doubt to creep in, accomplishment stalls
as fear builds and confidence falters
the more you start to question yourself.
As doubt grows,
the door opens
but it does not open for you to gain access
it opens for another to enter.
If they are courteous, they will hold the door for you
but be careful of the false genteel.
It is he, who holds the door ajar
only to let you out
then swiftly,
closes the door behind you.

Regardless of whether it is shut softly or slammed,
what appears to be a respectful gesture
is merely a mask for a selfish slap
that is sure to hit you, on your way out

Static Pause

How often have you spent hours waiting for something, only to be ultimately disappointed with the end result.  The comment, "That was a waste of time", dribbles off your tongue and you leave your post in disgust, feeling wasted and disgruntled.  Conversely,  if you find yourself saying, "That was time well spent", you are thrilled and enthusiastic, ecstatic that you remained true to the task.

Waiting is a pendulous advent where we choose to leave our lives in suspension. Whether by our own accord or an outside directive, we agree to defer and only after our willingness to halt action concludes, do we know if our time was well spent.

The act of static pause, is a game of unknown value until it is history...

Mind's Eye

The mind's eye is only as sharp as it is open
unveil the top and drink it all in,

discarding all that detracts from the journey

Sometimes you have to go outside the lines to make the picture pop
so be sure to go beyond the boundaries on occasion

The thought you neglect
 could be the next stroke of genius

imagination is only as broad as you're willing to reach

Vintage Verse

Conversation is a free commodity, approved for use by everyone.  The act involves the exchange of dialect, ideally with varietals in substance, inflection, and guise.  Some are more generous with their vernacular while others fair on the stingy side. Additionally, some age gracefully into their verse and it becomes a more predominant presence in their lives.  Others struggle with  a weaker vintage, lacking in consistency and strength, but the worst is when you come across a magnum propagated from sour grapes.  There is no pleasure to be found in a bad batch, best to let them stew in their own juices.

Sour Lemons

When life gives you lemons,

brave the sour

and suck it up!

Birds Fly

There's a lot of good stuff in here, if I could just find it. Sound familiar???
Well, maybe not in the same context, but, many a night when I sit down to write, this is what goes through my mind.  Sometimes, I have the topic all ready to go.  It's generally something that happens during the day, whether it is a discussion, an event, or just an awakening, I have a basis for my blog.  Other nights, like tonight, I have to dig deep, really, really deep, to unearth the reveal.
There are an amazing array of ideas that flit through my mind throughout the day and most often they storm when I'm sleeping.  Often, I awake to write them down, but lately I've just been, too damn tired.  As I roll over and snooze away, I know I've just let the bird fly.  Sometimes they come back and sometimes they don't, it's a risk I've grown familiar with, and of late, the bird is long gone.  So I am left to sit, with keyboard at the ready, and just improvise.
Much of what I write is undeveloped and I have to put it back in the incubator to grow. When I'm struggling to write, I'll go back to my drafts to see if I can nurture them, feed them and kick them out of the nest.  Right now I have an estate of a nest. No one's ready to fly the coop and I'm putting on an expansive addition.
As I allow my revelations to swirl about, I am thankful that I have a mind that is creative enough to stir up a theme with little more than two words.  Tonight I saw a bird fly and this is what he brought me.

Life Unconscious

deprive a thought and you dull brilliance

neglect an idea and you strip inspiration

ignore intuition and you silence insight

discourage sensitivity and you repress empathy

do any of the above and you're missing out on life

One Man Band

I have become a one man band mastering a variety of sounds and a visual display of interesting perspective. Starting with my second chin that has arrived in splendor. It is a generous bulge that waddles and flaps it's on conversation, as I struggle to remain focused on what my first chin is trying to express. From whence it came I do not know but it's looking pretty comfortable in it's new home. Moving on to the arms that have birthed a new layer. When I walk, the necessary arm swing generates enough wind propulsion to kick start the windmills that are sprouting up all over. As they glide across my sides, a subtle sound can be heard that simulates a bow being slowly drawn across the strings of a base cello, not at all like the whistling my bulbous thighs enact when I walk but a more solid, deeper tone. My obliques have taken on the look of an accordion, folding and releasing as my weight shifts from one foot to the other, again, slight squishing sounds can be heard as the folds compress and open with each step. All of this is accompanied by the random snapping and popping of miscellaneous joints and bones, straining to transport the excess baggage that is my body. It's quite a sight to see and as alarming as a one man band. Should you hear any of the aforementioned sounds coming your way, step aside and enjoy the show, it's only around for a limited engagement.

Lighten Up

Dismiss that which hurts

and uncover that which lightens

Tone It Down

(click below for another MHS Jazz performance)
http://soundcloud.com/moepoe/05-track-5


Have you ever met that threshold, where," killing them with kindness", is beyond reach? You've just been pushed so far that even though you may "get more bees with honey", you just want to douse them with vinegar?

Well, I witness this frequently in my job, and it amazes me that people will behave the way they do with other adults.  The level of entitlement among the privileged is incomprehensible.  The lack of respect is deplorable and the careless disregard for humanity is despicable.  Who are these people that feel superior?  What makes them feel as though they can demand and receive?  Why are they allowed to behave as though they are the only ones that matter? Who gave them the speed pass, allowing them to circumvent their way around the masses, laughing as they do so?  What makes them so special, that every day is their day? They live their lives as though they are the customers and the rest of civilization is there to serve them.  Their favorite motto is "the customer is always right".   What numskull made up that rule?  Do they really feel so immensely superior that they must put others down, degrading them with every turn, doling out indignant attitude whenever they can't be bothered to listen and respect. 
That is really what it comes down to, respecting another person's voice, space, or presence.  We are all comprised of the same matter, but some of us have a bit more substance. The challenge is to remain calm and dignified in the midst of the rant, composing a concerted response to an unresponsive audience can be difficult.  The value is not in the volume, but more the quality of the tone.  Keep it level and the sound will deliver, blast it and you'll simply end up with a blown speaker.