Category Archives: enjoying life

Felonious felines

5 Comments

If the pungent stench hadn’t first assaulted my senses, the tiny footprints in the remnants of snow on my deck would have led me to believe that a small feline intruder had been in my entrance way and left its fluidic calling card.

cat prints

I am no stranger to the repugnant smell of cat pee.  I have suffered before and was doing it again as the essence of the foul beast breached the sanctity of my nasal passages and made its way into my throat.  Before my morning vision had even the slightest chance of coming into focus the very solemnity of my home, as well as my olfactory nerves, had been violated by my neighbor’s cat.

Now, before you judge me on the basis of these words, I do not dislike cats.  I appreciate their ability to be detached yet affectionate.  I admire their commitment to their sense of self.  And I applaud their propensity to be indifferent and intrigued at the same time.

That being said, I do take offence to a four-legged creature of the non-canine variety befouling a room in which it has no business being present.  Cats do not, and will not, live in my home.  Allergic reactions aside, I have a colored past with these anciently domesticated beings and, in putting my differences aside, I have come to the realization that we make better strangers than friends.

I have repeatedly admonished my dog for wanting to run into the neighbor’s yard when she sees this territorial interloper, but I have since rethought my initial position.  My dog is merely protecting the rightful place that is her shelter.  She is simply defending her home against enemies, feral or domestic.  And she is attempting to preserve my nose from the offensive fragrance of future feline fearlessness.

It’s not about the distance

10 Comments

shoes-worn-out

You see my shoes,

and you think they might fit you.

You may even wrongly assume

that they had very little wear,

and you could walk much further than a mile.

But my treads are worn,

reduced to a thin layer of rubber,

marred by a life of experience.

Perhaps my shoes are similar to yours,

maybe even close to the same size,

but my shoes will not fit you,

as I expect yours would not feel comfortable on my feet.

This road has been mine to follow,

as your trail was carved out for you.

Conceivably, our winding paths have crossed on purpose,

but your journey is yours, as mine belongs to me.

And as much as you think my shoes will fit,

your feet were meant for your shoes

just as mine were meant for me.

I hope one day we will share a walk,

and our shoes will take many steps together.

And when that day comes,

I hope we walk much further than a mile.

(image credit)

Wait for the feathers

12 Comments

“Some days you’re the pigeon, some days you’re the statue.” ~ J. Andrew Taylor

Pigeon-on-Statue

(image credit)

Many of our days are inherently better than others.  On those precious days we are the pigeon.  We are free to fly, the wind lifts us and lets us soar and we feel like nothing can bring us down.  We are above all of the little problems that life presents.  We gain strength and power as we fly.  We are able to stop when we want to and simply observe life at its best from a lofty perch, but we are also able to spread our wings and rise even higher on the warm currents of life.

Some days, however, that magical wind seems non-existent and our wings seem to fail.  On those days, we are the statue.   We are a solid mass under the weight of our own problems.  We feel like we are stuck and there is no room to move.  We feel stagnant and are rooted in our place, only able to watch life pass us by and not feel like we can participate.  We are heavy with worry and cemented by fear, feeling like the world is doing nothing but looking at us and simply passing us by.

On the days we are the pigeon we have to remember to empathize with the statue.  And on the days we are the statue we have to revel in the thought of what it is like to be the pigeon.  To truly embrace all of life, we have to be willing to see it from the perspective of the bird and the bust.  We have to understand that life is not always going to let us soar but we are never going to be stuck in one place for long if we break free of the mold we created for ourselves.

Life will ground us.  It will root us in our place until it sees fit to allow us the capacity to fly once again.  And in those moments that we feel fixed in a certain spot in our lives, we just need to wait for those feathers to grow large enough to carry us into our next chapter.

Perched precariously on the fence

7 Comments

This is a lofty spot,

this place where I find myself.

I am currently balanced for fear of falling,

but this is a spot I find hauntingly familiar.

There is no right or wrong,

only what is best for me.

And whatever side I choose,

wherever I decide to plant my feet,

that is the direction I was meant to follow.

I can only believe in my truth,

that I cannot make any progress in my life

without making the decision to pick a side.

And once that decision is made,

that fence will no longer seem like an obstacle,

but merely an arrow.

(image credit)

Make a wish

11 Comments

pyramid-of-khafre

The pyramid that represents my desires is simple.  Each wish is placed with careful consideration.  Each moment of hope is used as mortar in the cracks.  And at the pinnacle of that prism is the cherished knowledge that I dared to dream.

(image credit)

microstories258

Just like an elephant

4 Comments

“Love is space and time measured by the heart.” ~ Marcel Proust

heart tree

(image credit)

The heart has a long memory.  It can quickly recall moments that have gradually faded into the past or people who have been taken away from us far too early.  It stores all of the things that our brains have long since forgotten, either by chance or by choice, and always makes room for more.  It lets us remember the things that mean the most to us and it creates more space every time we meet another soul who deserves a place there.

The heart can reach back into those abandoned stages in our lives when we least expect that trip down memory lane.  It can pull the emotion from the happiest times in our lives but it also never forgets the pain.  It uses that dull ache as a canvas, a backdrop to remind us of where we have been as we begin to paint the new picture of where we are going.

A heart that truly loves almost always forgives but it never forgets.  The scars of emotion are deeply etched in its tissue.  Time marches on but the heart will always carry the burden of every emotion that has brought it to the present.  It will be gracious.  It will be accepting.  And it will remember how it felt to be broken so it doesn’t willingly pass on that pain to another heart.

The heart does have a long memory.  And on the days that the images are still able to escape the brain, the heart will always be there with a gentle nudge to keep those sacred thoughts close.

(Thanks Lyn!)

Smile and the world smiles with you

10 Comments

IMG_2695[1]

I have the benefit of generally waking up “on the right side of the bed”, as my mother used to say.  It is a rare day that I wake up in anything other than a good mood.

The sun usually shines in through my curtainless window.  I am greeted by the face of my loving dog and the world feels like it is waiting to greet me with the same happy mood.

When I looked across my front lawn yesterday morning, I was greeted by these two smiling faces.  Randomly created by the snowfall, these faces adorned the back of the Muskoka chair that sits on the edge of my lawn anxiously awaiting the appearance of Spring.

How can you not smile back when the world smiles at you first?

 

You can’t have too much of a good thing

2 Comments

I thought I would have an overwhelming sense of guilt about my day yesterday.  But the truth is, I do not.  I hadn’t deviated from any plan of what I should have been doing but, instead, forged ahead with my original intention and spent the majority of the day on my couch binge-watching the remaining episodes of Breaking Bad on Netflix.  There, I said it….I’m out.

I did manage to feed myself the required meals to sustain my ability to swear at the screen and I did tend to my puppy dog, as the job did seem obligatory.  But any task outside of those parameters took a back seat and I was glued to the screen.

As the credits rolled and I waited for the next episode to begin, I had to face the harsh reality as the screen changed to the standard Netflix screen and not the profile of the characters I have come to know so well.  No longer would I be captivated by Walter White and his transformation from meek Chemistry teacher to the tower of greed and felonious intentions that he slowly became.   I had to call it – time of death, 10:39 pm.

Walter-White-Dead

I will slowly acclimate to the reality I once knew.  My blog will learn to recognize me once again.  My Kindle will be dusted off and my vacuum will feel the familiar touch of my hands as I learn to live my old life.  I’m sure my friends will vaguely recall what my voice sounds like once I pick up the phone to re-establish contact.  I just hope I can remember not to call them all “bitch”.