Karma

And sometimes that's what giving back is all about. 

Lifting yourself to a height in which you may be able to see clearer. 

Allowing your instincts to lead.

Feeling the moment. 

Reading the signs.

One person's generosity lays foundation for another to receive,

humbly, proudly, gratefully. 

Give and take. 

Teach and learn. 

Laugh and cry. 

 

Because I open my mouth, however so subtly, I learn.

Ask and ye shall receive.  

Posing the tough questions of myself,

writing,

sharing,

receiving reaction,

relationship building.

Circles overlap and connect us.

Being humans. 

Infallible and involved. 

The rhythm of reason marches on,

without us if necessary.

When we choose to step back into line, we are rewarded with minute gifts,

barely noticeable through the daily fog of perseverance. 

Through the NOW. 

Through the wtf's and whatever's.

Through and through we trudge on and do what we have to do.

And our gifts lie unopened until we need them, and then are opened unconsciously, while we sleep and dream and refill our energies.

We awaken refreshed and renewed and ready. 

Today we have more than we had yesterday. 

We know more,

we sense more,

we realize more.

we must give more today.

Only love can leave such a mark, such a scar...just a fight until we die.  

I'm hungry. I'm foolish.

I am the one in our family that brings up the death discussions. 

When I was in college, many years ago (ahem), I was alone with my step Grandmother when she coded in the hospital and died. She was the first body I stared at lying in a casket wearing caked make-up, not the way she looked all those weekends she slept at our home. 

I wrote about it and felt better.

I took a course at Indiana University called "Death and Dying" and read Elizabeth Kubler-Ross' book about the stages of grieving.   After studying dying, death, and how our loved ones are affected, I promised myself to plan my arrangements.  I bring up the subject freely, with my husband, my kids, my siblings, my parents...just as if the interest of my organ donation request and eventual cremation is dinner table talk.

I live and I die everyday. 

 We all do. 

  If we prepare for life's daily routines, then we should also plan for

 the day we die...and a few days after that.

Look at one day in a life of a mortal being.

One day we cannot choose. 

Life and death are in God's hands.

The most we can plan is the celebration of and the dispensing of worldly possessions, 

including this body we wear now.

No one wants to die. Even people who want to go to heaven don't want to die to get there. And yet death is the destination we all share. No one has ever escaped it. And that is as it should be, because Death is very likely the single best invention of Life. It is Life's change agent. It clears out the old to make way for the new. Right now the new is you, but someday not too long from now, you will gradually become the old and be cleared away. Sorry to be so dramatic, but it is quite true.

Your time is limited, so don't waste it living someone else's life. Don't be trapped by dogma — which is living with the results of other people's thinking. Don't let the noise of others' opinions drown out your own inner voice. And most important, have the courage to follow your heart and intuition. They somehow already know what you truly want to become. Everything else is secondary.

~Steve Jobs (Stanford commencement speech, 2005)

Life is NOW...let's LIVE!

~L

How did I get here?

I am the face of depression. 

I am the face of mental illness.

I am the face of mental health.

I am the face of recovery.

I am the face of emotion.

I am the face of misunderstanding.

I am the face of change.

I am the face of passion.

I am the face of humanity.
I am the face of generosity.

I am the face of frustration.

I am the face of negativity.

I am the face of a wife.

I am the face of a mother.

I am the face of a sister.

I am the face of a daughter.

I am the face of family.

I am the face of your friend.

I am the face of creativity.

I am the face of a nurse.

I am the face of reality.

No longer can I hide. 

No longer may I crawl away.

I started writing here two years ago, when I felt like I found buried treasure.  My writing voice tucked away and safely stored.  My passion, masked by the veil I so proudly learned to cover my inadequacies.  My feeling, my soul, my longing for more, all gradually reappeared as I looked inside myself, as I honestly asked, and stubbornly demanded answers.  I have some now.  I will hear more soon.  I’m on the path of redemption.  I am serving penance for my missing years.  Years began a lifetime ago this month.  Years I was granted by God and years I lived unconsciously, mind and soul split into pieces, like torn paper floating downstream.  I was lost and now I’m found.  Or something equally dramatic and less prophetic.  How did I get here?

cue Johnny Cash...

I thought about this keyboard all day.  Thoughts positive and light, waiting to be pieced together and shared.  Here goes…

Been kinda’ down the last few months for whatever reason or sense of something missing.  Been searching, yearning, reaching…for something undefined and needed.  Overanalyzed everything.  Pushed people’s buttons til they walked away.  Hid from others because they could not see.  Blah, blah…the same old story I tell with every breath I take.  Evolution of L.  Sad saga.  Life goes on.  And WTF!

Pullin up those proverbial bootstraps and beginning again.  I fired and rehired myself.  Not sure when the metamorphosis ensued, or the event that triggered.  Not gonna’ over think this one, just gonna describe the feelings.  Hands inside the car, seatbelts fastened, tray tables set for lunch…I’m feeling better.  I feel good.  Smiling.  Positive.  My thoughts are turning toward the sun and my shoulders feel looser.  Cluttered cobwebs be gone!

So what?  So let’s enjoy, shall we?

I was called to give advice to a friend whom I’m just beginning to know.  The subject matter was only familiar because the problem involved a female, which I sometimes play on TV.  My friend is a man and I have no experience giving this kind of advice to a man. Long story shorter, I found my perspective intelligent and fair and I came away feeling strong and straight and alive.  Although my friend’s situation is heartbreaking for him, a door has opened within my soul and I feel the fresh air circulating in my brain.  Placing myself in another woman’s shoes in order to fulfill his answers, in order to create temporary solace, with hope that he can see the bigger picture before his cliff rises to meet his doubts and fears, wishing I could make sense of the unknown in order for his heart to continue beating…I listened for hours and I played my part.  He claims I helped him.  He thanked me for caring.  He continues to battle against his broken dreams.  And I pat myself on my back.

Something’s shifted.  Energy movement from him to me?  Chakra, karma, ying, yang?  Insert a profound quote.  Re-tweet from Buddha or to write love on her arms (TWLOHA).  Read a paragraph from my nurse’s notes in a resident’s chart.  Clicking. Jiving.  Dancing.  Mentally moving to the beat of another part of myself.  My confident self.  Shit I feel good typing these words.  Thinking this way, claiming this land as my own.  By myself, using my learned skills and practiced talents.  I work my earth to produce more.  More me.  More of my mind.  More to share with you.  If you’ll have me.

I have a garden metaphor pertaining to my growth.  I’ve sprinkled my garden throughout one or two blog entries, hoed and tilled and fertilized over time.  Ignored it too. Today the muddy path and tangled roots are clearing.  My seedlings are planted and  sheltered from the wind and snow that will fall again.  Spring will come, says my French class friend.  From afar I watch his moves.  Learning what he began teaching me last year.  To live today and love today.  To be grateful for who I am and who surrounds me.  Tragedy lurks and fate occurs and only God knows what time schedule we fly by.  No use to worry or ask why.  Create, elate, celebrate! 

Jb, you opened my eyes and pointed my gaze inward.  You encouraged me to bust open my soul’s windows, to enter cautiously into the dark depths of myself, kept hidden and cold.  You reminded me of a lifetime where my heart was clean and fresh and trusting.  You represent a part of myself, of my life, that was forgotten and left for dead.  You revived me without intention.  You assured me by proxy.  You did what I remember of you three decades ago:  shared kindness.  I didn’t realize how lost I was until you helped me find my passions, my dreams, my unanswered questions.  You lit the spark inside of me that I had no idea was dying.  I had no inkling of its existence, of the flames preparing to ignite. 

FIRE!!!!

So I ran.  I ran into my fire.  I’m a slow learner, a procrastinator, distracted and unstructured.  I’ve been running through my fire for months, fanning flames with beer and chocolate, throwing on logs made of restlessness and doubt, walking over hot coals instead of walking with God.  The warmth engulfs me and I become complacent and charred.  Such is life.  Life worth fighting for.  Life lived once on earth and life of grace to live later.  No matter how fast I run, or how hot my soul’s fire, life will lead.  I am life’s follower.  I am part of the massive picture, the one I cannot begin to see unless I believe.  Unless I allow my talents to emerge positively.  Unless I allow others inside, even when I doubt they will understand.  Unless I turn my face to the sun especially during the dark of night.  Unless I forgive myself for my past.  Unless I open my perspective to possibility I fear.  Unless I slow down enough to hear your soul’s song.  Unless I tend my garden and share my laborious fruits.  Unless I look around the blinders and stretch my head out of the sand.  Unless I ask and unless I answer. 

Peace
Hugs
Light
Love
~L

just one thing

Recently a friend asked me what I was afraid of, why I'm not opening my heart and "using my gifts" on my blog, like I used to do...Challenge!  

Well he's not too far from right:  I have held back a bit. Since my words to important people in my life, people of my life, people I live for, set off a firestorm of anxiety. Some people are hurt.  Some are helped and some helped me.  Some wonder and watch.  Some question my processes.  Human beings I love, know more me.

I responded with face to face conversations, more truth, and putting my best work back into 'draft' mode.  Why?  To settle what I stirred.  To see what soup I created out of spontaneous epiphany.  To wait for the dust to settle.  To step back and peer through the window.  To talk to my husband instead of write about talking.  To assess my artistic senses with God's lead.  To watch my world through opened eyes.  

Perspective gained.  Respect delivered and received.  Confidence soaring on mended wings and meaning.  I've found and discovered something new each day since I wrote this piece.  Each moment lived with my blessings and family and friends, lived and loved and longed for more.

Here is more of me...just one thing.

 And I want it so bad, it's the first thing I see when I wake~my morning jacket

 

You may or may not have noticed a change in me. I've made a discovery about myself.   I've unwrapped a few layers and found perspective.  My new view.  My eye for the shot and my feel for the words. Talent.  Art. I am artistic. Two hobbies restarted in the past 6 months for the purpose of sorting and compartmentalizing priorities, goals, and next steps...Poof!  These ARE your priorities, goals and next steps. Really?  Who says?  How do you know?  Do you have proof?

They fit me.  I fit into them.  Yes, like a glove.  The feelings of satisfaction and purpose and knowing...priceless and unexpected and warranted.  You may understand this passion for self discovery.  You may understand how you look in your mirror and congratulate yourself.  You may know feeling accomplished because you completed, finished, succeeded, attempted, adhered.  You may have felt satisfaction and pride.  You may know how I feel now.

I am the lighting for my shot.  I am the thesis for my essay.  My fingers unconsciously moving across the keyboard produce comprehension.  My eyes hunt and search for composition among the mundane.  Naturally talented, gifted, surprised.

And I have proof.  This is not random thought trying to fit into specific challenge.  This is not a whim suggested by behavior of another.  I did not choose these creative expressions.  They chose me.  God chose me.  I accept my gifts and promise to handle them with care.  Thank you.

So now what?  Where to go, where to take my writing and shooting?  How do I use them for the greater good?  Funny how the expression, "starving artist" keeps popping into my mind.  Making money from my recently found completeness may be difficult or unnecessary.  Maybe my talents are not meant for production.  Maybe I should be shooting and writing to spread the word, the news, to educate, initiate, expedite.  This is not all about me.  It's bigger than me.

I am filling with spirit and my soul is awakening. I've worked at nothing purposely.  My work, my creative work, is my purpose.  My meaning.  ME.  I feel defined for the first time ever.  Not labeled with the role I must play or the line I should walk.  I feel discovered and highlighted and glowing.  The cracks of my years are aligning into a supportive foundation.  Goodbye fog, hello structure.  My structure.  This crashing force, energized by fresh purpose, keeps me breathing.  Breathing easier now.  Breathing the breath of my future.

My entire life has been a search party for this very day.  My day of unconditional love and honest acceptance.  My day to prove to family and friends, past and present, that I can do it.  Not just say I can.  Mean I can.  BE I can.  This unconditionality does not originate from the love of a human being as I believed it always would.  Should.  No, this brand spankin' new confidence, joy and longing, grows from within myself.  My soul and mind have enmeshed into a shining colorful aura and has settled peacefully into the chambers of my heart, the recesses of my skin, and rides gently the rapids of every breath I take.

I don't want this feeling to end.  Rough, raw, and rare with a sprinkle of humility.

People who know me and my search history, may think my methods have been haphazardly conducted.   I had to follow the threads, no matter where they went, as long as I felt loved along the way.  Acceptance by proxy.  Patterns formed and habits stuck.  Four decades makes marks and leaves scars and develops self reputation.  Self labels are applied and the consequences are invisibly damaging.  Beliefs form out of fragments of behavior, theirs and mine.  Settling comes with the territory of balance.  Expression dims as necessary and whole pieces break off the core.  My core.  My wishes and dreams.  My wants and needs.  My self, my being, my id and ego.  Cracking up and cracking open.  Investigations initiated and specialists referred.  We can rebuild her.  

Writing sporadically I soothed demons.  Shooting infrequently, I shared love.  Sparks not strong enough to create fire yet.  Keep rubbing those sticks together...you'll get it eventually.  Don't give up.  Keep trying.  You can do it.  Do what?

I don't want to list the ventures, a-ha moments, or sure things that strung me together over the years.  Sacrifices were made for my eventual success and martyrs wait patiently for their reward.  Here it is.  This is it.  I have found what I've been looking for.  I am ready to continue to self-nurture my strengths.  For the first time.  For the last time.  For now.  No more looking.  No more wonder.  This is my talent, my being, my core.  Nice to meet you.

Fresh perspective

I am re-posting an essay/letter I wrote four months ago, when I realized that I wanted to buy a digital camera and revive my photographic view.  This contains personal accounts of my childhood, however tame, but  if you (family) don't want to relive them with me, no worries.  

  A FRESH perspective for YOU CAPTURE @ I should be folding laundry:

all photos taken from my yard

in the past week

front, back

high, low 

blessed to live 

in Michigan

fresh blooms

acting fresh!

fresh air

 freshen up the joint

fresh clouds

Photography...seeing is believing.

I started shooting as a grade-schooler.  Remember the multiple flashcubes on a stick?  The Kodak pocket camera with the winder to advance?  Then the Polaroid let us shake the card into a photo. I asked for cameras for Christmas and birthdays.  I filled albums with snapshots of our family at Disney in 1976.  I recall how the album pages crunched when I opened a space for our poses.  My brag book contained wallets of fourth grade friends whom I would not see again.  And shoe boxes have been filled ever since.

Dad started my addiction to peering.  He carried a heavy, black, delicate camera inside a felted, camera-shaped leather case on a long strap.  Every trip to Santa's Village or Lamb's Farm or the Milwaukee Zoo included the black strapped camera.  Dad's choice of developmental medium was slides.  I keep memories of the thrill I felt watching myself shine onto the blank living room wall, larger than life, and the anticipation of which pose would follow. I can hear the unique sounds:  the hum of the whirring motor, the clatter and crash of the tray locking onto the machine, the clicks of slides dropping into place, the snap of the remote controller.  I wanted to advance the slides, hold the small rectangular box in my hand and control the tempo of our show.  That job belonged to dad.  His perspective, his order, his show.

We three kids would sit on the carpet, legs crossed, patiently awaiting with our craned necks pointed at the blank wall.  Our home stills showcased family vacations and outings, Christmas mornings and New Year's Eve parties, out-of-state visitors, pool parties, neighborhood cook-outs, training wheels to two wheelers, the yellow duckling, calico cat, and white terrier, Mom's decorated homemade birthday cakes, stockings on the mantle, hand sewn Halloween costumes, egg hunts and Easter dress-up, Grandma's gathering porch, the Falls, the Dells, the zoo...the three musketeers lined up by age and size, on our bikes, in our sleeping bags, floating on rafts, riding on the carousel, snoozing in the back seat of the car, holding up our favorite gifts, holding hands, shading our eyes, saying cheese, waving, smiling...lots of smiling.

This week I realized how I can fill a crack or two in my perspective.  I'm going to shoot again.  And again.  And again.  Without conscious decision, I gave up my passion for searching.  Searching  for movement in the crowd,  for the unique within the ordinary,  for the spontaneity in the routine. And, most importantly,  searching within myself for more.

I dug out my telephoto lens.  The one I bought several years ago for the used Nikon my brother gave me.  Found 5 rolls of new film too.  Film!  The camera is a gem.  The clerk at the local camera shop enjoyed cleaning it for me.  I guess the glass lens is a rarity today and I should take good care.  The camera took good care of me.  Took me to places I didn't know existed.  Seeing is believing...the colors crisp, the movement clear, the expression tight, and the joy of giving away part of me.  My production signed, sealed, and delivered to any and all unsuspecting subjects.  Delightfully dabbling in the development of my talent.

So the camera started acting up or maybe it got sick.  I stopped.  I put the black parts into my leather satchel and placed it strategically at the back of my closet.  And my talent took a nap.   The old Nikon will stay put for a while.  She'll have the film to keep her company.  I'm moving my perspective into the next generation of convenience.

Much more to explore...digitally.

my major award

Fra geel ay!  

I received this major award from my blogger friend,

Vencora @ coffee with a hint of self delusion.

Vencora and I have agreed that we share the gift of introspection.  We seem to be on a path of self discovery, using our talents to help guide our way.  We also both reside in the beautiful state of Michigan, although I think V will be traveling to other lands sooner than I will.  She's a bit younger than I am, and she is single, thus the wanderlust fits her better.  The beauty of having Vencora as my blogging friend, is that no matter where she resides physically in our world, we will always be connected through the links we've spun on this web.  

God bless you V, and all my bloggity companions for brightening my path of enlightenment, supporting my searching soul, listening to my rambling and still coming back for more.  As I said in my last post, I enjoy blogging, it keeps me centered and thoughtful, and every one of you who reads this now is part of the magic!  (cue sappy music...and fade out)

(my first bokeh)

kudos, shout-outs, and awards, oh my!

Overwhelmed with compliments today...

Georgina @ Olive Me, a must have read whom I stalk daily, handed me my first ever blogging award along with several other bloggers I follow or will now.

 ode to olive juice

Thank you G!

girlfriend.

gorgeous.

giving.

great expectations.

gracious.

going places.

growth.

givahootery.

grins and giggles.

glossary.

generous.

glorious.

Georgina!

Check the list of my peers who I am honored to share kudos with.

One in particular, Vencora @ Coffee with a Hint of Self Delusion, gave me and my humble blog a shout-out...my first one.  I hear you loud and clear V!  I love reading you too and I appreciate your reference to "lots of beautiful pictures" in my chicago, chagall, and choice post.  In addition, Vencora leaves me great comments after I post, including this compliment about the aforementioned chicago themed entry:

"your seemingly random yet unmistakably artistic photo shots are something I relate to. When you appreciate something so much, you see the things that no-one else sees."

EXACTLY!  I had a blast shooting my favorite city and I have many more photos to share later. For understanding my mixed up motives and labeling my shots artistic, I humbly offer my friend V...

Now I pass the buck, share the love, reward the writers whom I read...CHEERS!

Beth @ I Should Be Folding Laundry
(expecting her third child any day, suffered loss of twins, You Capture photo meme, inspires)

Chuck @ Chuck's Adventures
(retired HS English teacher from my almamater, world traveler,  photographer, been blogging since...well, before blogging was a word, generous commenter)

Serenityville @ Aayymee, whatchoo gonna do-o?
(open, funny, inspirational, former European resident, musical)

Cat @ Wait. What?
(honestly beautiful, fellow journeyer, poet, mom)

Sarah Toa @ A WineDark Sea 
(you may find her on a fishing boat in Australia, photographer, writer, reader, historian)

Meghan @ Blackberries to Apples
(20 something single living in NYC, humorous, talented, southern)

For supplying me with future fodder and interesting ideas, for entertaining my senses, for encouraging me to encourage, for allowing me to comment and follow and join your journeys, for your public displays of honesty, for teaching and touching me, for helping me grow and fly and explore, for YOU...BEAUTIFUL BLOGGERS...

Marc Chagall, 1972

Let it be...words of wisdom

I'm searching for wisdom. And an answer.  And I need to let it be, resolve naturally, let go to God.  Easier said than done because of the compassion I hold, the stake I have, the signs I'm following...until now.

Interpreting the signs is my challenge.  Which one to follow and which one to ignore and am I looking at the correct ones?  In the correct direction, the direction I think I need to face?  Am I even on the road made for me?  Let it be.

I continue to continue and I pray.  I do the best I can and I pray.  I thank God for my blessings and resolve to feel complete at the end of each day.  I'll be ready when my Lord decides to take me to his Heaven.  Live like it's my last day with the people I love, and my last day to try and to gain and to share and to smile and to cry and to laugh.  Live my best with people and for people.  Give, receive, learn, grow.  Grow in the sandy soil and tangled weeds.  Grow alongside other species.  Grow with little water and little sunshine.  Grow...live.

I write to remind myself.  If I think, then I will grow.  If I grow, then I will think, again and again.

The reason for my challenge is selfish.  The meaning of my challenge is selfless.  I take care of growing.  I tend to gardens.  I dig through the twisted roots and pinch back the overgrown leaves.  My commitment is not only to myself.  I am responsible.  And as I sow and grow, I feel a few of my petals drop off and my stem tending to bend.  My garden is being choked with competitive species.  Gradual growth.  Let it be.

Sometimes all I can do to see the day through is to keep my head down and my focus straight.  The bends are what throw me off.  In fact, I've begun to realize the unjustness of bending.  Bending out of my way to help others stay straight.  Unwelcome.  Bending over to pick others up.  Unwelcome.  Bending and reaching are incompatible in this garden, on this path.  My garden path is slowly transforming into a river of mud.  Let it be, right?

Revelation is unwelcome also.  Let it be.

All I can do here is my best, and be thankful for what I've got.
(John Mellencamp's words of wisdom)

Today is now

Recipie for NOW:  focus on living today, let go of yesterday, don't worry about tomorrow.

Today is one of the last days of my father's 72 year old life.  He is living on borrowed time.  What does this mean for my life now?   Much of what I am today is directly related to dad.  Good and bad.  I live today because he lives now.

I forgave him years ago.  I talk to him on the phone like he is one of my kids.  He needs me now and I give him what he asks for.  He and I think differently about almost everything, but I have figured out what positive influence I can be for his negative attitude and fear of death.  He fights every minute against his sluggish heartbeat and broken down kidneys.  He fights against the opinions of medical professionals and argues the benefit of paharmaceuticals.  Dad is, and always was, his own man.  His opinion matters first and foremost, even if the topic is you.  Dad doesn't ask if you want to hear him, he orates independently.  And if you disagree with dad now, you keep your mouth shut.  He is too tired to process our perspective...was never good at doing that anyway.

Family rallying takes place often. Usually sister is the director of arrangements and hostess to our food fests.  She and Dad are best friends.  He raised her without my mom until she ran away when she was 16, then mom and her husband gave her a fresh environment to live out her teen years.  My little sister acts the part of the eldest because she and dad are in charge.  I follow and smile and remind myself to stay focused.  Focusing on the grey skin and short breath of a very frail and skinny man, while his pride roars from every pore, even when his legs are so swollen that he must wear slippers out to dinner.  Even when he must use his cane because his gout in his feet is painful when he walks.  Now he is a man he never wished to become and he is scared.  Only a few people know this...and it's never talked about in front of dad.

Today I will call him on the phone and ask him how he's feeling and he will tell me half truths, which is 50 % more truth than he used to offer.  He knows now that I listen.  He realizes that I can be useful to him sometimes.  He needs to talk about how he feels.  Dad doesn't open his true self very often.  His mind is programmed to deny reality and manipulate the truth to fit his needs and wants.  That is dad's NOW.  This is how he has cheated death for a decade.  This is why I have been gradually shedding my layer of "difficult daughter"; just doesn't work anymore.  Winning isn't important.  Being right has no place in a dying man's world...Dad would disagree.

History of a man's life is important to reveal.  The successes and the trials, the fruits of his labor and the dreams lost, the people influenced and the influences received, the memories of childhood and missing family members, the hopes for his grand children and children, the work done and the work undone.  Lifetimes past and lifetimes wanted.  What must my dad be thinking right now?  What must a man, who may not realize the intensity of his malady, think about during his daily routines?  What he thinks and does and wishes for, is not for me to know.  What I live for today is to give dad peace and bring him forgiveness and solace and home.  I'm going home to see my father again...before he leaves our earth.  Today.  NOW.

Happy Birthday to me

When things make no sense, sometimes they shouldn't.  So stop questioning and proving and analyzing things.  Takes up too much energy and effort.

Today I was humbled and honored and thankful to be alive.  In this world, that makes no sense sometimes.  Sometimes surprises make the most sense.  Surprise you feel good today!  Surprise you feel like nothing works today! Surprise you are well and surprise you are ill! What's expected is unusual and what's unexpected fills in the cracks.  Just as if that's how it was supposed to be.

I don't make the rules.  I don't control the day's movements.  I just live in someone else's habitat.  God's world.  All desicions are pre made and I have no timeline to follow.  So does it matter how I act or what I say if I am entirely predetermined?  Free will?  I choose to live and I choose to live free.  Will I?

I affect other people and I don't affect other people.  My effort to teach and share and model  is in it's infancy for me.  Or is it?  Aren't I predetermined?  Wasn't I born this way?  to think and feel and express what's in my soul...habits formed long ago...essential to who I am.  Nothing really changes as we age.

Celebrating another year and I'm being tested in quite a few ways.  Let's begin with the new:  job, friends, attitude, perspective.  The old: family, obligations, expectations, interpretations.  The test of acceptance of changed plans.  The test of stability to listen to the reasons why.  The test of perserverance of daily drudgery.  Test my faith.  Test my honor.  test my loyalty.  Test my strength and free will. 

So many tests, so little time. 

So I promise myself to spend more precious time smiling and expressing my love and sharing my heart.  Super simple, in the company of most.  Small challenge with others.  but hey, their life is also set up for them, and they also have free will to choose their reactions to me.  So be it.  Love me or leave me.  You choose. 

eyes wide open

Inspiration is staring at me.  Looks very familiar though it's been many years. Feels like home. Feels like freedom and strength and hope.  What inspires me is new and bold and unexpected.  Inspires me to live and breathe and move and think and question and answer and wonder...heavy stuff, this inspirational influence.  Did you know you were going to have this affect on me? 


How have I affected you?  I hope positively. Why do I insist on asking these questions?  Why do I need to know these answers?  Or maybe I don't really want them answered and that's why they are hidden here.  If I knew all the answers I wouldn't be able to wonder about them anymore.  I may even stop moving, or hit a wall, or fly off the cliff with my new pair of wings.  Of course I know what's happening, don't you?


No, I really have no idea what this means.  My truth I know, but what inspires this truth is foreign and frightening and fragile.  How can one day, one minute, one note change so much for me?  Am I kidding myself?  Is this dream ending soon?  Will I wake up five weeks ago?
I must prepare for that possibility...later.


Now I wait.  Waiting so I may show thanks and grace.  Thanks for listening.  Thanks for asking.  Thanks for caring.  Thanks for understanding.  Thanks for not running away when I was ugly.  Thanks for returning my greeting.  Thanks for joking and laughing with me.  Thanks for your honesty.  Thanks for sharing your life.  Thanks for your patience.  Thanks for your support and encouragement.  Thanks for being my friend.


The list is longer and how could it be, in such a short time?  Or has it been many years?  I forgot.  Seems too comfortable to be new.  Feels like forever and feels like the beginning. 


Feels like the first time...
(singing)


Many firsts in this friendship.  Like a newborn child reacting to each unfamiliar sight and sound, I yearn for more stimulation and expect more comfort ahead.  Why not?  This feels good and good can't be bad...can it?  Good people like good people.  Good writers read good writers.  Good memories create good memories.  This roller coaster is paused and I'm going to the merry-go-round where the ride is smoother, the pace slower.  I can hear the music and talk to the riders and I keep my eyes open.