Feeds:
Posts
Comments

Posts Tagged ‘choice’

Experience: a Poem

Posted in inspiration, positive thinking, tagged , , , , , , , , , on September 24, 2018| Leave a Comment »

Do not measure your loss by itself; if you do, it will seem intolerable; but if you will take all human affairs into account you will find that some comfort is to be derived from them.  (Saint Basil)

This poem has been in my file since my oldest granddaughter has been small. Yes, I choose the positive. However, it is a choice, not a feeling. An uphill climb is a sweaty uphill climb. Lately, I notice a lot of jagged rocks. Peace to all. Eventually.

EXPERIENCE

It contains puzzle parts made of fear, pain,

celebration, growth, loss, gain. The parts leak

inside, swell the pores and form leathery ripples

as time passes. They are never fully decoded.

 

I recall the last warmth of a friend’s embrace.

Buried now, she can no longer speak in earth terms.

I read the notice too late and never said goodbye.

Experience can’t fit inside a single life time.

 

Over generations, it mingles, swells. I watch

my granddaughter play. And pray she sees

more joy than sorrow.

Time embraces all, teaches few, keeps no one.

 

Love makes experience worthwhile.

I kneel, bless my next generation, and join

my first grandchild as she discovers the world,

one bright colored block at a time.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Read Full Post »

Adults Can Grow Up, Too

Posted in inspiration, positive thinking, tagged , , , , , , , , on September 14, 2018| Leave a Comment »

We’ve all got both light and dark inside us. What matters is the part we choose to act on. That’s who we really are. (J.K. Rowling)

My grandson and I color together. He notices how difficult it is for me to maneuver my fingers. Arthritis and a fractured-metacarpal-that-healed-crooked make smaller crayons a challenge.

“Here, try this big fat one he says… And Minions are yellow.” He is certain about that fact. My lucky guess.

I thank him since my adult world rarely mentions animated characters. Grownups talk about world concerns, family problems, sports, the rising cost of gasoline.

Dakota notices both my gifts and deficits. Neither changes his love for me.

If only every relationship could be this simple.

Perhaps simple and easy are not the same reality.

Loving my young friend is easy. Any opening into the heart makes the spirit capable of growing—into accepting the light, into discovering who I really am.

 

 

Read Full Post »

One Flowerless Plant, a Metaphor

Posted in inspiration, positive thinking, tagged , , , , , , , , , , on August 26, 2018| 2 Comments »

I’d rather see a sermon than hear one any day; I’d rather one should walk with me than merely tell the way. (Edgar Guest, poet)

My husband and I received two plants. As living, growing, loving gifts from our church family. Neither Jay nor I garden or know the difference between a weed and a rare flower, a mushroom and a toadstool. He takes care of watering indoor plants. Mother Nature tends to the outdoors.

These two plants belong outdoors. I assumed that after a few days, my husband had taken both small green pots from the screened-in back porch to their home outside. Only one made it. The other isn’t dead, but it is malnourished, waiting to be rescued. Drooping, brown-edged leaves fall from the side.

I watered the plant and placed it next to its healthier peer.

Peer? Yes. Planted at the same time. One starving, the other well-fed.

The individual who blasts views different than mine may look like the failing plant to me; he or she may think I am in the dying pot. Either way, negative judgment leads nowhere.

The man begging at the corner may be an alcoholic and drug addict; he may be a veteran with PTSD, or someone who lost everything from inadequate health insurance or despair. Appearances don’t tell the whole.

A storm last night watered both plants. No change in the flowerless pot yet. I want instant results. Real life rarely works that way. Next step—I must check with the person who gave us the greenery and get a hint or two. My plant knowledge may remain in the pre-kindergarten stage, but, any level of increased caring can help.

In the meantime, my seven-year-old grandson and I tinker with my failing printer. He is fascinated with the parts, with anything mechanical. The copy of his sight-words homework appears. The printer has come to life; he is ecstatic. I don’t know much about anything mechanical, like a printer. He doesn’t know much about printers or words.

We have no idea what we did right, but our work together has succeeded. Peers in a different sense. Okay, I did the work until my son came and finalized the original problem. (The machine was trying to send a non-existent fax.) My grandson brought the enthusiasm. The mix worked.

May people with differing points of view find the best in one another. Someday. Rich and poor, conservative and liberal, as equals. It may be the only way.

 

Read Full Post »

In Search of Peace

Posted in inspiration, positive thinking, tagged , , , , , , , , on August 6, 2018| 2 Comments »

As we grow spiritually, we discover that we are not as separate as we thought we were. We realize that everything belongs and everything can be received. (Richard Rohr)

Can time be weighed?

Does night and day,

progress, failure

illness, health,

compassion, and greed fit

into the final figure?

History. Is each page unbiased?

I wait, and watch as unnamed birds

fly and hide into deciduous branches

where leaves will fall, allow

trees to stand bare, and perhaps,

begin a new cycle.

Life changes

and yet remains unchanged.

 

Read Full Post »

Peace, War, and a Dusty Playground

Posted in inspiration, positive thinking, tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , on July 28, 2018| Leave a Comment »

 

 I dream of giving birth to a child who will ask, “Mother, what was war?” (Eve Merriam, poet and writer)

As Ella moves through a dusty playground area, I watch the children’s interactions. Some of the kids are wild, climbing over one another on the slide. They laugh even when their bodies’ positions are obviously uncomfortable.

Other youngsters appear less aggressive. I notice the essence of both peace and war in scaled-down forms.

One bright, talkative little girl tells me the story of a skunk that appeared one evening on one of the softball fields. She is animated yet assures me no one was sprayed. Her spirit speaks peace. Another little girl and her younger brother race against Ella for a bouncy whale and dolphin.

Ella stands too close to the two children. She begs for a turn. I can tell the siblings are determined to maintain a battle over the sea mammals because they gesture to one another as Ella walks away. I lead my granddaughter in another game.

“Ella, I’m swimming, but I’m not very good at it. I need a lifeguard. Will you be my lifeguard?”

I move my arms in an awkward mock swim motion.

“Sure,” she answers.

The distraction works—at least until the two kids are called by their dad to go home. A simple solution. At least for the moment.

Mine. Mine. Mine. A universal problem. Ella also wants to help her grandmother. Play is serious learning. She doesn’t grab the dolphin until at least ten minutes after her antagonists leave.

War. It has lived since ancient times. Now, news travels faster through social media, television, the Internet. Stories appear slanted, tainted, unverified. And violence continues in various forms as TV watchers eat dinner.

Suddenly, I have indigestion.

Shadows. They have multiple meanings. Reflected images born from the sun. Shady areas. Loyal followers. Hidden flaws. Metaphors.

Find the kindest kind of shadow…

Illusive at best. I can only seek the goal I see and love to the best of my ability. Love is war’s antonym.

Attending a protest in front of an ICE facility in my home town was a recent choice for me. You bet I was frightened. However, no one ever said love was going to be easy. Yes, immigration control is necessary. Cruelty, especially against children, is not. Fortunately, the event was as peaceful as it was intended.

Some shadows need more attention than others.

Peace to all.

 

 

 

Read Full Post »

Rocks, Pebbles, Keys, and Love Inside a Red Wagon

Posted in inspiration, positive thinking, tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , on July 15, 2018| Leave a Comment »

I have come to believe that giving and receiving are really the same. Giving and receiving—not giving and taking. (Joyce Grenfell)

“Do pebbles grow into rocks?” my young step-grandson asks as he gathers odd-shaped stones and places them inside a cardboard treasure box. The box rides inside a red wagon.

I smile and tell him rocks are more likely to break into pebbles. I smile, but don’t laugh. His innocence warms me. He finds a tiny lock on the side of the road and adds it to his collection. Then, he puts it inside his pocket, to take home.

For him, all of life is a collection of serendipitous learning experiences. The tracks left by a bulldozer, a dusty trail made by the thin wheels of the collapsible, fabric wagon. The dusty wheels create mud after the wheels travel through a deep puddle.

The thought strikes me that rocks and keys may not be the unique metaphors I imagined them to be in my series, The Star League Chronicles. Black rocks act as weapons for the Malefics, the evil League. Chase Powers, the main character, operates an ancient, rusty, magical key. Sometimes, the key knows more than he does.

Sometimes play teaches me. And I haven’t been a child in a long time. My teacher-key contains no magic. Often its key is no more than a realization, a prod to notice a beauty I hadn’t noticed because I’d been stuck inside ubiquitous bad news forecasts.

This little boy trusts me. A breeze cuts through the afternoon heat. I am at peace despite that fact that I have an approaching deadline—and more words to write and edit than I want to think about. Right now, I could be pecking away at the non-magical keyboard-keys (pun semi-intended.) With the hope of creating magical scenes.

Instead, I follow a red wagon into a child’s imagination and allow my love for this boy to expand.

Work challenges will continue tonight…and tomorrow…weeks after. Until the story fits into a whole.

For now, I give and receive experience. And hope to remember this beautiful day in the middle of July.

 

Read Full Post »

Time for a Brief Rest: Be Back in a Few Weeks

Posted in inspiration, positive thinking, tagged , , , , , , , , , , on June 19, 2018| Leave a Comment »

There is always something to do. There are hungry people to feed, naked people to clothe, sick people to comfort and make well. And while I don’t expect you to save the world, I do think it’s not asking too much for you to love those with whom you sleep, share the happiness of those whom you call friend, engage those among you who are visionary, and remove from your life those who offer you depression, despair, and disrespect. (Nikki Giovanni, poet and professor)

 Today’s quote may be longer than the blog. Always something to do. I’m taking a few weeks to both rest and work—write later. My usual blog will be back in July. I promise.

Time. This strange experience that turns infants into children, children into adults, adults into old folk.

My youngest granddaughter studied my skin today, but said nothing about its soft feel, rippling like moving water. I would have told her a lot of time is hidden inside those striations. However, striation isn’t in her vocabulary yet. It doesn’t explain my life or anyone else’s either. No superficial explanation does.

Occasionally I find I need to step back from my self-imposed rat race. Breathe. Rest. Work. Explore. Discover.

In the meantime, peace upon all. May your journey be rich. And blessed.

 

 

 

 

Read Full Post »

Serendipity and the Daily Newspaper Delivery

Posted in inspiration, positive thinking, tagged , , , , , , , , , , on June 13, 2018| 1 Comment »

Serendipity always rewards the prepared. (Katori Hall)

I stand on our partially wet, partially dry sidewalk and wave to our neighbor as he leaves his house. He waves back. During that short pause, the daily newspaper lands at my feet. The delivery man’s arm and back of his head are all I can see as he continues on his rounds.

To the right of the newspaper are damp yellow daylilies. A perennial that returns and blooms even though passing deer often choose the bright blossoms as a part of our neighborhood’s buffet.

Ah, I’ve heard of door-to-door delivery, but never six-inches-from-your-right-toe service. An accident maybe, but I’ll take it.

Inside the paper will be a comic page, death notices, and stories that could cause me to wince. Another layer of everyday life wrapped in an orange plastic tube. The completed package.

Completion. I wonder if there is a certain misunderstanding of the notion. Sure, I can complete a single chore. All that is expected of me on this journey? I may not be the final judge. All I can do is I watch for the serendipities, the blessings inside dark and light. They appear along the way.

Read Full Post »

Ella, Used-Car Salesperson

Posted in inspiration, positive thinking, tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on June 6, 2018| Leave a Comment »

You can be childlike without being childish. A child always wants to have fun. Ask yourself, “Am I having fun?” (Christopher Meloni)

I watched as my beloved Toyota was being towed away. Her replacement existed. Among a few possibilities. Nevertheless, Little Beige and I had seen many miles together. We fit old-sneaker comfortably; until that last crashing moment I knew what to expect. She didn’t complain when one of the kids spilled drinks on her back seat. I knew how her few buttons worked.

Now, I wait as my husband and the used car salesman work out the final details. Jay has a business degree, as well as a knack for checking out the facts. I listen, unaware that my granddaughter, Ella, has also been listening.

As Jay and the dealer leave the building for some checks on his car, Ella takes over the salesman’s chair.

“What kind of car do you want?” she asks.

“Green with an orange steering wheel.”

“We can do that.” She pauses. “I will have to make it.”

After a few arm swirls, she hands me the invisible product. “Do you need anything else?”

“How about a truck? Purple.”

Once again, the request is no problem. One item costs me $54.56. The other costs $56.56.

She laughs when I ask for a tractor complete with farmer. So does a fellow customer at the next desk.

Before Jay and the salesman return I am also the proud owner of a motorcycle and yellow school bus. Fortunately, the imagination doesn’t limit size. It doesn’t care about the age of user or seller either.

“We can go home and play now, Ella,” I tell her.

The day lilies by our driveway have dried by afternoon. The morning dew has evaporated. Each hour has its cost and its gift. I’d like to say I have forgotten about the fearful moment when I knew my 2005 Toyota had breathed its last breath.

Yet, somehow, I survived. Each minute brings something different—both pleasant and miserable.

Ella and I play. The sun rises and sets. We are part of a larger whole. A whole I may never understand until my life is completed, and perhaps not by then. After all, knowledge isn’t my goal; love is.

 

Read Full Post »

Moss, Loss, and Celebration

Posted in inspiration, positive thinking, tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , on May 31, 2018| 1 Comment »

The life of every man is a diary in which he means to write one story, and writes another, and his humblest hour is when he compares the volume as it is with what he vowed to make it. (J.M. Barrie, novelist and playwright)

Random, dead, moss-covered wood. I’ve felt a kinship with it at times. Yet, the fallen logs create artistic patterns. Hollow centers offer homes for wildlife.

My husband and I walked under a lacy shade of branches. They protected the ground from the late-May heat. The pattern of dead and alive seemed to ramble, aimless. Nevertheless, there was a wholeness to the scene.

Recently, my husband and I attended an event. I am intentionally vague about whether the event was a picnic, graduation, family reunion, or none of the above. The setting was accidental; the story reveals a story within a story, the one that occurred instead of the one planned.

One of the guests passed out after a possible seizure. An individual honored at that moment ran to her defense. She saw the need for a 911 call. Two of the attendees were nurses and two were doctors. They assisted the fallen person more thoroughly than the paramedics did.

After the ill guest was taken to the hospital, any separated groups bonded. A different story developed based upon mutual care and love. We met as friends, not strangers.

I hoped to hold onto that intimate feeling forever. Then I totaled my car the same day my husband and I returned home. A tree won when the accelerator stuck…or I missed the brake…or fate decided my time with Little Beige should end. I don’t know what happened. This incident was the first in my years behind the wheel. It doesn’t matter how the accident happened. My 2005 Toyota will soon become junkyard fodder.

Like the dead branches my car has a history. Soon to be buried. I am okay, relatively anyway. So is my husband. We were not physically injured.

Neighbors arrived immediately. With offers to help. With support. With the difference between rotting in the moment and survival.

The story changed. I am not the only character in my tale. Nor, am I the only heroine. And that is what makes the difference. Sometimes, simple actions may have saved someone more than anyone will ever know.

Thanks to all who take that extra step forward.

Read Full Post »

« Newer Posts - Older Posts »