Category Archives: beauty

Beyond the open door

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On Friday night, I stared at this painting for a long time.  It hangs in a conspicuous spot in a familiar room but I had never seen it before.  Perhaps it was the shaded lighting of the late evening that made me study every detail in those brush strokes or, quite possibly, it was the collection of components in the painting that intrigued me, but every single item on that canvas made me linger and give it thought.

From the cracked tiled floor to the chance assortment of belongings, each item was distinct and gave me the feeling that any one of those things could feasibly represent a chapter in my life story.  That thought made me stare even more as I tried to piece together the narrative that the artist was trying to communicate.

I got a strong sense of the feeling of wanting to stay connected.  There is great comfort in keeping familiar things close.  But there is also the fascination of what may exist beyond our comfort zone.

That open door is the focal point that grabbed and held my attention.  In a room full of things seemingly collected on purpose, this door opened my curiosity.  What magic or what memory lay beyond that partially opened portal?  What is there to be found if we are brave enough to push it open all the way and take a chance on what is on the other side?

Sometimes being complacent with the things we have become accustomed to blinds us to what may lie just beyond the threshold of our comfort zone.  Maybe the memorabilia in the foreground is meant to alleviate any pain while it draws us towards the next step.

There is a warmth in just having things fit into the right place and having that place feel like home. But maybe the real feeling of home is just a few steps away and we just have to walk through that door to discover the hidden treasures that await us if we are brave enough to explore the possibilities.

 

All of the things I did

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toes in the water

I am not here to just put my toes in the water.

I am here to cannonball off a spring-board,

fully plunging into the deep end.

I am not here to simply smell the flowers.

I am here to roll through the meadow,

to give in to careless abandon,

and to saturate myself in their fragrance.

I am not here to be a guest in my own life.

I am here to live purposely,

to breathe deeply the essence of this life,

because I know, all too well, that life is short.

And at the end of my journey through this lifetime,

all of the things I did,

and all of the life I inhaled,

will hopefully served to remind me,

that I lived a deliberate life and that I made a difference.

(image credit)

fiction249

Making the right things different

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“We are not the same persons this year as last; nor are those we love.  It is a happy chance if we, changing, continue to love the changed person.” ~ W. Somerset Maugham

I love stories of couples who have been together for decades, who celebrate year after year together and still maintain that bond of love and friendship.  My grandparents had it, my parents had it and my brother has it.  I have not been able to weather that change with as much success as they have but that truth does not make me sad.

The most basic definition of change is to make something different.  That is how the dictionary categorizes change and I have been through many circumstances in my life that have caused me to become different.  Sadly, or perhaps not, I was unable to continue relationships with certain loves because I became a changed person.  I had grown from experience, I had aged from knowledge and I had matured from the lessons of my reality.

I am, decidedly, not the same person this year as last.  There is an underlying intensity to me that I had never previously possessed.  There is a confidence, a slow-burning belief in myself, that is gradually being fueled by the understanding of my recently discovered strengths.  And that person did not exist while I was in those past relationships.  That person slowly transformed from chrysalis to butterfly, evolved from the person I used to be, and changed into the person I am now.

Butterfly Emerging

Certainly it would be a happy coincidence if we are fortunate enough to mature together and to be able to love that changed person in our lives and grow in the same direction.  But it would no fault of either person if that change took different trajectories.

People change.  Ideals change.  Love changes.  Our job is to decide whether we, being the person we are now, are still able to love that changed person or whether we need to make a change for ourselves.

(image credit)

2 Kisses I shall give you

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sunrise-18a

In the wee hours of the morning,

her visits often happen then,

the charge in the air is palpable

and sleep is still in my head.

Her message hangs heavily in the air,

the words are always the same.

“Two kisses I will give you,

to help get you through your day.

 One kiss is to give you courage,

to help you save the world.

The other kiss is to help protect you

from the curve balls that life will hurl”.

Her words soothe me and give me peace

in the last moments of my sleep.

And on my cheeks, as I face the world,

two kisses I shall keep.

(image credit: santabanta)

~~

This was originally posted in 2014, but I swear I could feel them on my cheeks this morning.

There is nothing to fear but……TV commercials and junk mail

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Beginning a new year is difficult.  There is a tremendous amount of pressure to join the mainstream of people who have made numerous resolutions for the impending 362 days, considering the leap year.  And if it were not bad enough to be compelled by friends and family to make a list of the things we would like to accomplish, the media shoves the most popular of those resolutions down our throat with each television commercial they can fit into an amiable time slot.

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The start of a new calendar year should give us hope but those writers, those advertising gurus that tax their brains to come up with stunning ads, somehow make us feel like the earnest promises we make for ourselves are slightly off the mark.

I was feeling excited.  I was entering 2016 on my terms and, although I had not made them public, I had made a small set of goals I would like to accomplish this year.  I wanted to embrace my skills and I was looking forward to a year filled with prose and literary triumph.  And then I made the mistake of turning on my television.

Thankfully I have the fortitude to block out the nonsense that is broadcast to us, in what they think is a subliminal missive.   If I heed the message in those commercials, I would look at my humble goals and feel nothing but fat, undervalued and, as Bridget Jones’ Diary would describe it, like a spinster who would eventually end up being eaten by wild dogs.

The rubbish I receive by email can be just as bad.  Countless emails for weight loss, dating sites and plausible scenarios to make me my best self accumulate in my junk box.  Those messages are ignored just as quickly as they were downloaded.

I find great value in myself as well as my sincere goals for the new year.  Screw the advertising monsters who want to make me feel less than I am.  My worth cannot be described in a commercial.  My life cannot be depicted by a summation of what presumed reality sees as my shortcomings.

I am me.  I have worth because I care about people and I respect myself.  I treasure my strengths, I acknowledge my weaknesses and I spend each day trying to have a positive effect on those around me.

Now, if they can write a commercial for something like that, maybe next time I’ll leave the television on.

 

 

 

 

When I saw the tree

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She left before I was ready.

Perhaps her smile veiled her true emotion,

shrouding me from the reality

that she had been ready for a while.

Maybe she heard him calling to her,

soft whispers as she slept,

telling her it was okay to let go.

Conspicuous reminders of her appear,

like songs long forgotten

playing on a broken radio.

Repressed smells tickle my senses,

transporting me to another time,

and they render me paralyzed.

She came to me in a dream.

She embraced me as I slept

and whispered words she knew I needed to hear.

 When I saw the tree, I knew.

She was here,

in this place,

in the way she would have wanted to be,

in the form she loved so much.

Her sentinels lay in wait,

their wings ready at a moment’s notice,

to be at my side if I needed them.

~~

(image credit)

 ~~

fiction245

It’s not just about the big picture

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As I am uncharacteristically sitting in my office on a Sunday morning, dog asleep at my feet, it occurred to me that I don’t have very much to say today.  I am enjoying the quiet moments of looking after the lodge while the owners enjoy some much-needed down time after a busy season and the other employees are busy shopping for the holidays and on their way to spend time with loved ones.

I saw this quote and it seemed to sum up what I was trying to say.  Enjoy your Sunday and make sure to enjoy all the little things.

the little things

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The sense of sensibility

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The Reverie posted an interesting challenge in honor of Jane Austen.  We are given 11 words (in true Austen style) and asked to write a poem with at least 7 of them.  It got in 10.   Check out the challenge and give it a try.

Prayers-for-world-peace

To acknowledge a want,

to trust in a wish,

evokes a certain wonder.

What good fortune it would be,

to wear our pride without prejudice,

to yearn, not for possessions

but for the good in man.

A single hope,

a solemn wish

to bring peace

to the world.

~~

(image credit)

Comes a time

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Everything in our lives has a time and a place.  Whether we understand the correlation or not, the introduction of certain things into our realities is done with a purpose.  The novel ‘Tuesdays with Morrie’ is one of those things that had a time and place in my life – and that time and place was now.

Had I read this book when it was first published, the messages would have never hit their target.  But now, almost twenty years after its publication date, this book has burrowed its way under my skin and caused numerous moments of reflection and awareness.

I began reading this book late on a Saturday night, although I wish I could say I dove into it on a Tuesday.  My appetite for the story made me pick it up again on Sunday afternoon and finish it early Sunday night.  I recognized many moments of my life through the book and I paused many times to wipe tears from my eyes so I could continue reading.

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(Mitch Albom and Morrie Schwartz)

I watched both of my parents wither from a disease, although not ALS, that stole their ability to function as healthy adults.  I felt a strong connection to Mitch as he tried to make life as normal for Morrie as he could.  But what I was most affected by from this novel is Morrie teaching Mitch how to live while he, in turn, was dying.

Life is not about our limitations, it is about our strengths.   Life is not about our possessions but about our character.  It is about being a part of a community and giving to those who are less fortunate.  Life is about having no regrets when we pass because the energy that we shared with others lives on through them.

Mitch and Morrie reiterated the philosophy behind a mantra I have, for many years, uttered under my breath.  “Life is not about what you have.  Life is about what you give.”   And since this novel has securely fastened itself into my memory, I will strive to give more so I can live far beyond this lifetime.