The Way I See Grace

picture taken in the woods beside my house

I have always loved sightings of sunlight filtering down through a grove of trees to the mossy earthen wooded floor.  As a child, I would look for them out the car window on trips on brilliant sunny days.  They reminded me of safety, protection, stillness.

I spot these auroral pockets now, and I see grace.  Especially layered by my own failings, and now a recent failing of another that has left me weak inside, this...this is grace poured down.  I can only see the situation through my own tangled mass of brokenness to the light that God shines on us so freely, so undeserved.  It is how I am to respond.  Climb over the fallen, splintered remains of a choice that has shattered me, and get into the Light.  Then, reach and pull the other, scraped and entwined, through and into the Light beside me.  It is what we are supposed to do.  Always.

"Because of God's tender mercy,
the morning light from heaven is about to break upon us,
to give light to those who sit in darkness and in the shadow of death,
and to guide us to the path of peace."  ~Luke 1: 78,79

'heart' these kinds of days

Yesterday was a good day.  I love days like that.  Simple goodness.  You know what I'm talking about.  Everything seems to just flow and fit.  Your words come out right and settle where they are supposed to.  An energy not from within yourself lifts you up and carries you through the sun bright day.  It was one of those days, despite my having been up until 3:30 a.m. the night before.  Joy lit the corners of my droopy, sleep-deprived lids anyway.  It was the kind of day that I could throw my arms around.

 I was loving it so much yesterday, the way the warm sunlight gently rested on my shoulder from my window while I worked that I snapped a shot of my view from my office window.  Lovely.

I even spotted the Loch Ness monster floating over the North Georgia mountains.

Fridge Poetry Friday

I am going to ask Santa for a new set or two of magnetic poetry.  They have all sorts, from racy to humorous.  I need more words!!!  My fridge may come to look like a shredded newspaper but that's quite alright.  Happy Friday!

Found Slow-Dripped Bliss

I guess I could just be a blog DJ...playing the hits and many more that aren't...or something like that.  Lately all I do is post music.  I guess that's okay too.  Music speaks when words are found wanting.  Daughter introduced this band to me tonight and I fell hard.  They have a similar sound to Ray Lamontagne and weave lyrics that are breathtaking.  This is one of those.  So sit back, turn the lights low and enjoy a little bliss for a while.

You're the Northern Wind
Sending shivers down my spine
You're like falling leaves
In an autumn night

You're the lullaby
That's singing me to sleep
You are the other half
You're like the missing piece

Oh my love
Oh my love
Oh my love
You don't know
What you do to me, to me

You are all four seasons
Rolled into one
Like the cold December snow
In the warm July sun
[ Lyrics from: http://www.lyricsmode.com/lyrics/c/city_and_colour/northern_wind.html ]
I'm the jet black sky
That's just before the rain
Like the mighty current
Pulling you under the waves

Oh my love
Oh my love
Oh my love
You don't know what you do to me
To me
I'm the darkest hour
Just before the dawn
And I'm slowly sinking
Into the slough of despond

Like an old guitar
Worn out and left behind
I have stories still to tell
They're of the healing kind

Oh my love
Oh my love
Oh my love
If I could just
Find you tonight
If I could just find you tonight
Oh my love

Do do do

A Trio on Monday

I am on a Classic kick...bear with me.  Three great songs heard today - just so happens two of them are about 'brown-eyed girls'.



And...


Finally...the Eagles.  This has to be one of the BEST, most incredibly harmonized songs ever.  Pardon the rather cheesy video...I didn't create it - besides, this one is listened to best, out back under the stars, long cool drink in hand, singing along.



Here are the lyrics:

There are stars
In the Southern sky
Southward as you go
There is moonlight
And moss in the trees
Down the Seven Bridges Road

Now I have loved you like a baby
Like some lonesome child
And I have loved you in a tame way
And I have loved you wild

Sometimes there's a part of me
Has to turn from here and go
Running like a child from these warm stars
Down the Seven Bridges Road

There are stars in the Southern sky
And if ever you decide
You should go
There is a taste of thyme sweetened honey
Down the Seven Bridges Road 

It's the End of the World As We Know It...

It has been an interesting weekend...

I could NOT believe it when I heard R.E.M. had decided to call it quits.  This was sad news to one whose latter teen years were woven with their tunes.  We were all particularly fond of them because they originated from Athens, Georgia.  So I share one of my favorites (among many) from 1987:

I particularly enjoy this acoustic version.



And can you BELIEVE THIS?!?!  Luke Skywalker is 60!!!!!  

This is the guy I was going to marry when I was nine years old!!!!!  And he's SIXTY?!  Wow.  Happy birthday, Luke Skywalker (Mark Hamill) and may the Force always be with you.

Big news in sports...TEXAS A & M OFFICIALLY JOINS THE SEC!!!

Big news!  Would love to know more and it will be interesting to see how all of this unfolds. 

Finally, I have some personal 'news' of my own...

List of things to do in the year of my 40th:

Dance in a field with 25,000 of my closest friends, jeans rolled up and ankle deep in mud

This was on my list and I didn't even know it.  I love it when situations present themselves to experience something new.  My friend Lisa, who happens to be my concert buddy, had invited me to go with her to the Midtown Festival.  Yesterday we set out around 6:30 and didn't get there until around 8:00, awaiting the final band, Coldplay.  (Our second time to see them together.)  They put on an incredible show and they did not disappoint.  We worked our way through the crowd and attempted to draw closer to the front when our feet found a water/mud patch.....no matter.  We rolled up our jeans and danced anyway.  Awesome end to a beautiful day.

Saturday Song

Can't stay long...it is too incredible a day to be indoors and online.  I just returned from my Saturday routine of zipping around doing various errands, and it is entirely more fun in a convertible with the top down.  Accompany that by Classic Rock, and it's priceless.

This kind of music reminds me of childhood Saturday mornings.  It was often our routine, especially in the early fall and early spring days, to throw open the windows and clean with a backdrop of any assortment of my Dad's albums spinning on the turn table.  Fleetwood Mac, The Eagles, Steely Dan, Steve Miller Band, Gerry Rafferty, Moody Blues,  The Beatles, Boston, Santana...

So when this song came on listening to a Classic Rock station befitting this kind of day, it was sublime.  It's no wonder Jeff and I are both music enthusiasts to this day.  We were both raised, teething on the corner of album covers and coiled headphone cords.

Spunk

I was just saying the other night that I guess I 'needed' to find a t.v. show to follow and get all jazzed about seeming as the entire free world has one (or eight) that they follow (would we even know this, OR CARE before Facebook?).  So in an attempt to find something I could call 'my show' that I watch faithfully, I picked The Big Bang Theory.  I had only seen clips from the advertisements, and rarely considering I really don't watch t.v.

So I tuned in on Thursday evening, preparing to laugh and begin to 'connect' with the nerdy, quirky characters.

(frown of distain)

I was oh so wrong.

Now I know WHY I don't watch t.v.

Really?

THIS is what the majority of the public watches, evening after evening, hour upon hour?

To say I was disappointed is an understatement.  I lasted about fifteen minutes.  It was all I could stand.  After about a half a dozen graphic references to body parts (I thought we moved past finding 'pee pee woo woo words' funny after about the eighth grade...) and other ridiculous situations, I couldn't stand it anymore.

I ended up checking our DVR'd list to find that the season premiere of Criminal Minds wasn't deleted.  I had watched the show a couple of years ago, and off and on from time-to-time since.  I knew I had missed quite a bit from last year, but decided to check it out anyway.  I was NOT disappointed this time.

As you may know, I am a huge fan of Matthew Gray Gubler (aka Dr. Spencer Reid).  He is sporting a new 'do (my verdict is still out on whether I like the short look...) and definitely a new, grown-up attitude.  It is quite agreeable to his already appealing character.

The story unfolds as the team is being investigated for not following protocol in capturing a long-wanted criminal, the one that was believed to have killed their partner, Emily Prentiss.  As it turns out, after he attacked her, there was an elaborate plan to fake her death.  This was so she could escape and heal, to keep safe and to raise the villain's son, who was another target to be killed.

When it was Spencer's turn, the examiner got a little testy with him, and told him to 'calm down'.  Without skipping a beat, Spencer leaned in and said, "This IS calm, and it's Dr."  Whooooooo!!!!

The empowerment in his voice, the determined look in his eyes.  That was enough to motivate me.  It got me quite fired up and I was ready to take on any verbal spar.

I think I wore the rewind button OUT.

Fridge Poetry Friday

Bear with the 'invented' spelling of 'gone' - I have to get creative with what words are available to use...Happy Friday!

?Answers?

I have continued to wrestle with the idea of this blog...to keep it, ditch it, adjust it's purpose, reconstruct it altogether...

I came across this today.  Beautiful sentiment.  Encouragement?

Extraordinary Mind
by Andre Jordan

I do not care what car you drive.where you live.if you know someone who knows someone who knows someone.if your clothes are this year's cutting edge.if your trust fund is unlimited.if you are A-list, B-list, or never-heard-of-you list. i only care about the words that flutter from your mind. they are the only thing you truly own. the only thing i will remember you by. i will not fall in love with your bones and skin. i will not fall in love with the places you have been. i will not fall in love with anything but the words that flutter from your extraordinary mind.

~
I understand this all too well.  I can relate.  Words are really all there is.

Words of Wisdom

"If ever there is tomorrow

when we're not together...

there is something you must

always remember.

You are braver than you believe,

stronger than you seem,

and smarter than you think.

But the most important thing is,

even if we're apart,

I'll always be with you."

~Winnie the Pooh

I am now

This morning I read a wonderful post by the daughter of a dear friend/mentor of mine.  She is a new mom and has chronicled the infinite change having a child has made in her life.  I was impacted by the idea that we are forever altered by this event, both inside and out.  I was also inspired to model a post after hers, because I realize that not only do we change the moment we set our eyes on the faces of our babies, but we are ever-evolving as those faces grow and change.  You can read her post here: 

http://livinhappilyeverafter.blogspot.com/2011/09/i-am-now.html

Thank you, Aubree, for your inspiration.

Here is mine, at the other end of the spectrum from where Aubree is just beginning.

I am now

I am now the person whose very being has been altered, from exactly half of my life being called 'Mom'.

I am now the person who cannot believe that my main role in this name is quickly coming to an end.

I am now the person who often wanders around an empty house, feeling every bit of it's cavernous yawning.

I am now that person that stays up until all hours, waiting, always patiently waiting for the click of a key in the front door.

I am now the person that reaches way up tall to hug this human being that once fit within the safety of my body.

I am now that person that will knock on a door, crawl up on a clump of covers and paint nails just to get to see my daughter's face for longer than a flash as she dashes out the door.

I am now that person that will routinely speak the words, 'I hope and pray...' to preface some bit of wisdom I hope to impart in what some times feels like the 'last days'.

I am now the person that will hug each child's every friend that comes through my door - whether their first time or 400th.

I am now the person that has gone from driving an eight-passenger SUV to a (barely) 4 passenger car - I rarely drive anyone around with me anymore.

I am now the person that is amazed daily at the people my two nearly grown children are becoming.

I am now the person that is dangling her legs from the edge of an ever-increasingly emptier nest and looking around, wondering.

I am now the person contemplating, 'Where did all the time go?"

I am now the person secretly thinking, "Yes, I am glad we started young."

I am now the person who would lay down across train tracks with a train barreling down for those two beings God allowed me to raise.

I am now the person infinitely blessed.

Fridge Poetry Friday

It's been a while, I know.  I can be maddeningly inconsistent in things like that.  I did craft a poem of my own, not too long ago - 'Enough'.  Doesn't that count?  Here's tonight's Fridge Poetry:

Friday Night and Here I Am

It has been a week.

 I find myself sitting here in a quiet, empty house, alone again with my dog and my thoughts.  This post might just be a meandering path of unguided musings.  That is okay, I suppose.  Again, as I question my purpose in this, I might as well at least be here.

First up on the rotation:  Facebook
It is a virtual treasure trove for those that might be inclined to enjoy the study in delving into people's psychological underpinnings.  Honestly, as I have become more and more jaded with the whole concept, I was blown away this week at an exchange that still leaves me scratching my head.  Little does he know, he is now about to become a main subject of my blog post.  They really should issue warning labels with computers: 'If you are going to interact with the human race on the internet, be warned: you and anything you post could be material at someone else's disposal'.

Honestly.

Let me preface all of this by saying that while there is quite a bit of absurdity involved with Facebook - why in heaven's name do people feel the need to post what they are eating, that they are completing their third load of laundry, etc - it does have its merits.  Maybe it should also issue a warning in the 'sign-up' process as well, I don't know.  I do know, though, that we, as Facebook users, have to take on the responsibility of managing and 'controlling' the interaction level that we want to be involved in there.

As for this particular individual, I can remember deliberating over whether I really knew him and how, who was my 'connection' to this person?  All of that ran through my head as I weighed accepting the friend request.  This took place fairly early on in the 'beginning' stages of my involvement with Facebook so it was fairly new, and I didn't 'screen' people quite as closely as I do now.  I might even say I've become almost 'snobby' over my 'friends' list.....I will explain that further.

I do know that there was one common friend and I thought that maybe that is how I knew this person.  Maybe I did go to school with him?  Maybe he sat behind me in math long, long ago and I just didn't ever turn around to notice?  So on that basis, I accepted.  And that was that.  Or so I thought.

It wasn't until this past February that, out of the blue, I got a message entitled:  Mmmmmmm!  (Ick?)
He commented that he looooooved my profile picture and where was I living now....

Really?  I'm going to tell you, a complete stranger, where I live?

I never responded.  About seven days later a second message:  "Why are you so terrible about writing back???"

I continued my 'streak' and did not reply.  Especially not now.  Sheesh.

Why I didn't make use of my defriend option, I have no idea.

Fast forward to this past Monday.  Another message - I will just spell it out and keep Creeper anonymous.  So here goes:

Creeper: 'Can you talk sometime this week?

(Don't ask me why but I actually responded this time.  I reasoned that it had to be important...I don't know.)

Me:  What'd you have in mind?  What's up?

Creeper:  "Need to chat.  ASAP.  You've blown me off long enough, haven't you?

(Seriously?  Did you REALLY just say that????)

Me:  Not sure about the 'blowing off' part...but shoot.  What is going on?

...later in the day...

Creeper: "Ugggh.  You obviously CANNOT hold a real conversation. *sigh*

(Wait...OH NO HE DI'N'T...)

Me: Wait...what?
        I don't think you know me.  AT ALL.

Creeper:  "Well why don't you stop being so EVASIVE and TALK!!!!!!

Me:  Um. Let's see.....You initiated the exchange.  You said you needed to talk.  I have been waiting for you to tell me what your current thought is that is of utmost pressing concern at the moment.
So-
YOU talk.  FIRST.

Tag.  You're it.

(All said with an agitated undertone at this point.)

Creeper:  Ok.  Call me.

(...Seriously.  CALL you?  This was becoming more and more ridiculous by the moment.)

Me:  What?  Why?  Can you share what you need to share here?  I'm working.

Creeper:  No.  Because you do this all the time.  You avoid talking...And who works at 8 p.m.

(Understand, I have NEVER spoken to this individual in any form, let alone ever done anything ALL THE TIME where this person is concerned.....At this point I'm thinking Lifetime movie stalker Grade-A CREEP.)

ME:  Me.  (answering his preposterous 'who works at 8 pm question)
All the time?  Avoid talking?  I am thoroughly confused.  YOU contacted me.
Out of the blue.
I'm truly sorry.  I am really not clear here.  I am feeling admonished for something that I DO NOT claim as a rightful infraction.  I get the sense that you are angry?  At me?  From your tone, it seems that way, and honestly, I can say without a shadow of a doubt, it is NOT warranted.  If I offended you?  Please let me know.  That is not ever my intent.  However, if not, offer me some grace in understanding why I am getting the feeling that I am: a)in the wrong unrightfully and b) needlessly confused.

Creeper: Ok.

Later he again went on to request I call him.

I haven't deleted him.  Yet.  I have been contemplating crafting an excellent indictment for him.  And then delete.  On the other hand, I  might just delete and not waste my time.



I think one of the biggest arguments against Facebook is the false sense of familiarity that it breeds among its users.  People you really know on a casual, acquaintance level either treat you with a 'closeness' in a face-to-face setting that isn't truly there, or they come across very familiar online.  As in Creeper - you know me well enough to 'scold' me for working late?  You THINK you know me well enough to say that I can not hold a conversation?  You apparently do not know me at all.

Besides the obvious, it was idiocy that he was saying I couldn't hold a conversation but yet, we weren't having a conversation.  We hadn't gotten to that point because he hadn't stated what he had to say.  He spent his time thus far, accusing and trying to evoke me to talk.

I also began to think about the fact that he said he couldn't 'share' as is, in a message.  He kept insisting that I call him.  My skepticism kicked in as I thought about this.  You want ME to call so phone records show I initiated the communication.  You want a phone correspondence so that there isn't a written account of your words?  


Well you have left quite an account so far, my 'friend'.


So as I continued to be baffled at this incident this week, I did a little digging.  I went to Creeper's profile to see if I could find ANY semblance of recognition as to WHY I 'friended' him in the first place.  Turns out, our one connection is it.  And those aren't even closely related.  I dug further...what IS this guy's deal?  I went into his friends list...and something struck me:  the majority were female.  Not just female, but beautiful, model, beauty pageant-like.  Swimsuit profile pics, evening gown glam, big hair - then there's me...shudder.  Finally I actually counted the men, because of the sheer volume of women in the list.  Roughly twelve.  Twelve out of over 500.  Hello.....

(Please understand, I am not routinely a Facebook stalker - I am not on it as much these days, and I just don't have the interest to roll through pictures and what not.  But THIS made me have to check this out.) Upon further investigation of his wall and some pictures, I am almost convinced there are some obsessive tendencies.  Posts about his apparel and pictures he posts about clothing that he is asking 'the ladies' to comment on - One was of a dress with the caption "What lucky lady will wear this tonight?"  Ew.  He posts lots of self-portraits - in designer suits, fancy cars, on the elliptical (I'm not kidding.)  Then there was the recent status commentary about the Miss Universe pageant...yes.  I will leave you with all of THAT information to draw your own conclusions.

It is my nature to try and give people the benefit of the doubt, or at least try to understand.  I could go the route of 'pity' and say that he might just truly be very lonely and therefore has this need to make himself appear all suave and upward mobile.  Maybe he just needs someone to talk to...but where did he learn his social skills if he thought this was they way to go about it?  Finally, at the basic level, it just creeps me out - and makes me want to put deadbolts on my door.


This has really made me more motivated at the idea of weeding through my 'friends' list and really contemplate the meaning of that word.  Facebook cheapens it, I am afraid.  I refrained to be a part of the recent, "I'm scaling down my friends list - reply if you want to stay on my list" craziness that circulated.  I don't partake of much of the 'post and re-post' concepts in general.  I have talked about the idea of deleting with some friends, and there are different 'camps' of thought.   A couple thought that deleting, and then being extra selective was a good idea.  One has a general rule:  if she hasn't shared a meal with the person, or at least a cup of coffee, she gives them the boot.  Good thought, but may be a bit restricting.  My kindred, Anna, believes quite the opposite - any and everyone within reason.  She feels that if she can at least influence some subtly through her posts and positivity, it is worth it.  She is just that way though.

For me, I have become more protective, good, bad or indifferent.  As is true to my core personality, I don't really share myself with very many people at all (not in a truly visceral sense), and this became uncomfortable for me as time went on with Facebook.  It is why I mostly post quotes or 'positive quips' now, for the most part.

Which leaves me with the decision to send a long overdue 'reality check' or just delete and be done.  Either way, I am DONE.

On a DMB Roll

One of my personal DMB favorites.  This has to be one of the most 'chill' songs around.  I picture jazz lounge and a red dress.  Okay - yes, my imagination gets carried away.  Just sharing those little quirky, 'real' moments from inside the cranium.

Meet Me on the Corner of Harvest Moon and Constellation

This is one of my favorite 'playful' songs by DMB.  A perfect song for dancing in the moonlight.  Enjoy.

Mind Sufficiently Blown

Bob Dylan =>Jimi Hendrix (need I say more?) =>U2 =>Dave Matthews Band    ???

This experience was nothing short of ethereal.  Heard this version for the first time today, blazing (within respectable speed limit range) down the road from Gainesville back to the 'Sham.  I could have driven from there to Montana on this song alone.  What an amazing discovery today.

On This Night

Ten years ago, we all put our heads on our pillows and closed our eyes on the world as we knew it.  Little did we know that after that night, the skies would be silenced for days and when we awoke to that bright, crisp blue morning, nothing would ever be the same.

I know that there have been stories, countless numbers of them, that have been told and retold.  Mine is minor, common, but mine nonetheless.  I can not imagine anyone old enough to remember that day that doesn't carry within them the pages that hold their story.  Even the common stories beg to be made known.

The part of my story that still grips my emotions to this day is not the moments the tragedy unfolded, where I was or when I first heard.  Like most, I was at work, carrying out my daily routine, somewhat buffered from the outside world within the walls of an elementary school day.  I recall, with clarity, as the bits and pieces of information began to filter in and piece together, and then finally the moment I stood in one of the kindergarten teacher's rooms while her children were gone, watching the news and live footage of the horrific events.  I remember being stunned at a garish contrast: the bright blue sky and sunshine as backdrop to the black, rolling, gaping monstrosity unfolding.

What makes my story different to me, that sets it apart from all the other stories, was the composing of a nightmare birthed from a deep and riveting empathy I have always carried for those who suffer.  It was the night of the 11th and at the close of a day like none other in our history I, like most, fell into an exhausted half-sleep half-stupor.  I had watched the news nonstop since the first moments I knew.  I had made the phone calls, trying desperately to track my brother, who was in downtown Atlanta at the time, and as the events unfurled, I thought big cities might be the target and I had to know that he was okay.  I had scooped up my young children, both elementary school-aged at the time, and raced home - to sanctuary, to a place of normalcy, a shelter.

That night I went to bed with those images and my ragged tears.  My sight took in the views of the towers, of the Pentagon, of the field from cameras perched high, from circling helicopters, from passersby below looking up at the searing towers.  I had witnessed those great buildings come down, almost noiselessly as they rolled, floor upon floor, ascending into dust.

That night, in my restless dreaming, I was there under the dust and debris.  My view was no longer from above, and far away, but under and suffocating.  I could not escape the thought that there were people, someone's loved ones, buried at that very moment under tons of scrap and concrete, barely breathing what oxygen they could pull from the soot-infused air.  In my nightmare, I too, struggled to breathe, heard the muffled sounds of cries and sirens, the incessant beeping of responders' radios rising up through the rubble.  In this waking torment, struggling between layers of wreckage and layers of blankets, I inhaled sharply, from a strangling moment in this dream into the awareness of my room, the shadowed, palpable purity of air untainted.  My window, the constant white noise rushing.  My body revolted - stomach clenched, heart pounding, eyes blurred but not from grit trapped there.  Grief struck me in the stillness of this instant, my sobs shattering the quiet.  I could not sleep knowing someone was  out there, buried beneath all of that, and all I had pressing in on my was the weight of my own covers.

The Power of Music

Ray LaMontagne - Skinny Dippin' (Album - Acre Of Land)

I LOVE this song.  It makes me smile.  And want to go a 'floatin' like a peach upon the water'...

Conversations with My Plate Glass Reflection

We rounded the corner and I was glued to the window, taking in all the newness and life of a place I'd never been.  He was standing at the window of a building, nearly nose to nose with his own reflection - and he was deep in conversation with who he saw there, chattering back at him.  My heart went out to him, and I honestly wanted to stop and give him a hug.  Or at least offer a real human being to give his words to.  To stand there between that glass and his voice.  And listen.

This is where I find myself with this blog.  I am that one, standing inches from my own face in the glass, my words ricocheting off the glass, some flecking on my cheeks and some falling to the ground.

What am I doing?

Why do I do this?  Is it what I truly want?

Some times I feel as though I am presenting some glossy, color brochure of thought when there is so much more...volumes of something deeper, pressing always just below the surface, a dam that is ever just about to break.  Yet I come here, typing what I think you (who?) may want to hear, all the while, standing with my finger in the cleft, because for some reason, I get the impression (why? and from where?) that I must hold back what's behind that mountainous wall.

I wrestle.

I wonder.

I wait.

I held a book in my hands today that welled fear (I thought I had slain this in my life?!  Where did it come from?) to the very surface of my skin.  It was a book on creativity and writing.  It came in the mail today.  What am I afraid of?

Letting the dam loose.  That is what I am afraid of.

There is so much I don't say here.  I can hardly believe...but am I still intimidated by what others may think?  Still?


I step back and try to be objective...is this ALL there is to me?  And then I ponder...WHO out there really cares?  Is it there that the most primal fear originates?


I guess this is the basis for my reflection.  (I want to whisper this) I want to write.  Writing is woven into the very red blood cells of my being.  Did you know that the red blood cell is responsible for bringing oxygen to the body?  It's very existence is to keep all our cells alive?  This is where writing resides in me.  I have yet to unearth it all.  And yet it keeps me breathing.  But too much oxygen is toxic, believe it or not.  Too much trapped within is deadly.


Does anyone even know that my brain often perceives the world in verse and rhyme?  It is maddening...it comes when there is no pen to record and no keyboard to keep the untold thoughts that surface - not even an ear made to curve just so, to hold and treasure them, willing to take them all in.....


This filtered in just the other night (actually in the sleepy hour of one a.m. as I made my way to get ice water and back)...I just happened to remember it in the morning.


...the whimsical moon, she sketches gossamer games of hopscotch for me along the floor to tiptoe across night's imagination...


Yes.  It's confounding.  All that from my bleary eyes spotting the moon casting through my windowpane onto the floor of my room.

Then I post quips and snippets and smidgens of joy!-and leave so much...masses of tangled words wrapped around my vocal cords, unsaid.  So what to do with this anyway?  What?  I do want to do more.  But how?  If I can't be completely real here, how?

Supernova

There is supposed to be a Supernova visible this weekend near the handle of the Big Dipper?  Had me wondering, who is the Supernova in your life?

Eric Himan - Save the Afternoon

Rolling down the highway, top down covered over with choleric stratocumulus clouds, this song accompanied the setting well.

Miles Davis - I Thought About You

Rainy days like today always call forth the soulful sounds of Miles Davis and Coltrane for me.  Mmmm mmmm mmmmmm.......

Edwin Mccain - I'll Be (The original acoustic version)

This, in particular the acoustic version, is perfect for a rainy day like today.

Catching Up on Gratitude

Where do I start?  How can one possibly squeeze barge loads of gratitude into this limited white space?  I know...I haven't been here much lately.  I have been breaking in a new job and routine.  I have also been wrestling with my purpose (if there is one) in this blog and what I might (or might not) do with it (more on that later...) and so I have remained 'quiet'.  However, I have accumulated an abundance of 'kisses of grace'  that I have either logged in (one of my) journals and/or my camera of my phone for sharing.

21.  Having a daughter that is fashion savvy.  On one of my first days at my new job, I was in the kitchen putting together my weird lunch and she walked in, stopped, gave me a complete once over and left the room.  She returned with a peacock feather necklace, similar to this one, to drape on my neck.  How I love having a daughter that will accessorize me for the day.

22.  Goosebumps 

I can not believe it.  I was completely blown away the first time this happened.  I got goosebumps while teaching recently.  More than once.  I have found that I LOVE teaching college level classes.  I never knew goosebumps while on the job was possible.

23.  A related kiss of grace has been GETTING TO RESEARCH as part of my job.  You mean I GET to do this?!?!  I was sitting in my office last Wednesday, books, papers, desktop and laptop surrounding me, wearing my 'sexy librarian' (this is what Courtney calls them...ha ha) reading glasses and I suddenly took in a sharp breath - I was completely engrossed in what I was doing, glasses-deep in research for prep for my next classes and it hit me that I was getting to research for my work.  This feeds the inner nerd in me like nothing I have known so far.  I was literally hit, in that moment, with a big smackeroo of gratitude.

24.  Reading Hope for the Flowers to my Reading Diagnosis and Remediation class.  We shared favorite books early on, and I had mentioned a couple of others that I particularly enjoyed.  Later, a random thought floated out of nowhere, that I could actually read Hope to my class, a chapter or so at a time.  No one in the class had heard of it.  I would be the one to impart this little nugget of beauty and wisdom to them.  The parallels to so many circumstances in teaching, let alone life, are found in this book.  We are reading(savoring) through the book and I am holding them to sharing any analogies they find.

25.  A huge hug of grace:  not being 'hemmed in' or 'trapped' inside one room/one building all day.  I get to conduct my day in a much more fluid way - I go early and work to the quiet and hum of the copier (when needed), go to class, have an hour between and then hold office hours afterwards.  I can take lunch outside under any one of the various trees to enjoy the fresh air and breeze.  This is such a novelty to someone who had 20 minutes (by the time you walked to the lunchroom and back) to choke down lunch in the closed-in space of a teacher's lounge/book room/copy room...

26.  I get to watch the portrait of the world change right outside of my window.  Some of the sights I have adored so far:  

• scurrying professors.  I am convinced they are a separate breed of being - it is endearing and inspiring to see them, most dressed in tie and sensible shoes, clutching a briefcase held close and high, head bent forward and leaning towards another day of higher learning.
• students being themselves.  I spotted one perched in front of the science building across from my window, leaning against the brick, guitar in hand, strumming and singing.  Another one stole my heart when I saw he had transformed two trees into his own personal study oasis by stringing a portable hammock between them, and was swaying and reading as the evening settled around.

27.  I have about a 20 minute commute home each day.  There is nothing better than putting the top down and heading towards the sinking sun each day.

28.  Getting to babysit my nephews and 'catching' my nephew, Emerson 'reading' under the cradle in their living room...

Warms this reading teacher's heart...

29.  Cleaning the bonus room and stumbling across shadows of my oldest's childhood, still alive and well.

This was a recent purchase by Eldest: a Stormtrooper Star Wars Lego set. (He is eighteen.)  I found it up in the bonus room, along with a tiny lightsaber.   Warmed this Mama's heart.

30.  What do you do with an entire day stretched out ahead of you and you find yourself completely alone?  Grab your 'Driving Miss Daisy' hat, hiking shoes and set out to find a trail to follow.....

31.  Finding the encompassing love of God crafted in the clouds on a random, spontaneous 'golf cart date'.  In this cloud, He whispered, "I love you THIS much."

32.  Spotting the whispered secrets of an upcoming season speckled in the trees.

33. Being Forty

Turning 40 hasn't been without its challenges, but overall, I am so grateful to be at this age and stage of my life.  I recall that I was going to do a sporadic post entitled "Faces of Forty" but honestly, I just don't end up with very many 'self-portraits'.  This one was taken, catching me off guard, in lighting that, at first, I thought was 'bleh'.  Just as started to delete, I took another look - the softer lines just 'fit' me and I kept it for my second installment of 'Faces of Forty' but it goes so well with being grateful for being 'here' in my life.

34.  Alongside my settling into the space of forty, has been a settling more into my own skin.  For those who understand the perils of life in a body that does not feel like your own 99.9% of the time, I am finally bringing body and spirit/soul together and they are getting along quite swimmingly so far.  This was framed for me in perfect clarity this past Saturday.  I could list my 'Saturday Girl Day at the Dock' as a whole separate listing, but it is here that I took notice of how comfortable I felt in my own epidermis.  It was a warm September Saturday.  I was in my board shorts and bikini top in front of my two friends, perched on the wood planks, cross-legged, talking to them - one in the water below and one stretched out beside me.  On a whim, I decided to take a running leap off the dock so I went for it.  I jumped up, and ran in my bathing suit (another reason I favor board shorts - so much more able to frolic), grabbed my nose and flung myself off the edge, legs flailing on purpose.  That was fun, and I realized: I wasn't self-conscious at all.  And it felt good. 

35.  'Family days' like yesterday where we are all four actually home and we are 'intentional' about rallying around our time together.  Weather interfered a bit with plans but we settled on a movie marathon.  During a 'break' between movies, Zach and I were chatting about 'life' and I realized that, as he talked, multiple prayers had been and were being answered.  I was speechless and awash in tears of gratitude.

36. 'Finding' (or it finding me...) this little book at a friend's house.  I am not bashful to ask to borrow books.  I read it in one day.  I plan to read through it again before returning it...and then buying one of my own.

This book is funny and poignant, thought-provoking and inspiring.  Loved every syllable of it. 

In & Out of Time by Maya Angelou

I heard this poem yesterday in the movie Madea's Family Reunion.  Maya herself was reciting this at a wedding in the movie.  Ab-so-lute-ly stunning.




In & Out of Time by Maya Angelou

The sun has come.
The mist has gone.
We see in the distance...
our long way home.
I was always yours to have.
You were always mine.
We have loved each other in and out of time.
When the first stone looked up at the blazing sun
and the first tree struggled up from the forest floor
I had always loved you more.
You freed your braids...
gave your hair to the breeze.
It hummed like a hive of honey bees.
I reached in the mass for the sweet honey comb there....
Mmmm...God how I love your hair.
You saw me bludgeoned by circumstance.
Lost, injured, hurt by chance.
I screamed to the heavens....loudly screamed....
Trying to change our nightmares into dreams...
The sun has come.
The mist has gone.
We see in the distance our long way home.
I was always yours to have.
You were always mine.
We have loved each other in and out
in and out
in and out
of time.

I want to be here... I long to... But my eyelids are fluttering like butterflies to close and dream. So so tired. A routine is slowly settling around me, and I welcome it's wider, slow rhythms. Soon I hope to have something of worth to say here. Or I may just tell you to climb up in the hammock with me and swing awhile. Either way, it will be time well spent.