15/31 Outrageous Use of OUR Money

Have you heard about the new Beltline name change?

It's outrageous.

For anyone who doesn't know, the Beltline is a major east/west freeway in our fair locale. It connects Springfield and I-5 to west Eugene and all points in between. As far back as I can remember it has been called Beltline. And I can remember back pretty far.

Our idiot Governor Ted Kulongoski has decided he needs to honor a now deceased businessman who played a major part in Oregon's transportation system. So, he's going to name a major freeway to the tune of $250,000 (think quarter of a million dollars!) plus a ceremony. The money goes to replacing signs! Huge signs, many signs. For what??

Excuse me? Aren't we in a recession? Aren't state, city, county employees being laid off or furloughed? Excuse me, aren't we always whining about and being overtaxed because we don't have enough - MONEY!

Plant a tree, stick a statue somewhere, name the new pedestrian bridge after him. Name a star, or a day, or a child after him but please, leave our money alone.

14/31 Clock Change

If you've been a reader here for awhile you know I am not a fan of changing the clocks back and forth, back and forth every two seasons. Pick one and stick with it people!

But do it I must or I will be late, be late for a very important date.

Thankfully the sun is shining today and I have fun and meaningful activities to pursue.

**guttural sigh**

13/31 Too Nice a Day

Had a brooding post here about money but deleted it.

It's too perfect a day.

Cassie and Caroline are out taking homemade pudding to a friend who had her wisdom teeth pulled. Pudding makes everything better.

Tom is filling the car with gas so he and I can go out together later and have some fun.

Joe is coming over soon for Cassie's Saturday Cook/Bake Day feast.

Me? I've been soul searching all morning.

(Anyone seen my soul? Can't find it anywhere! :)

Have a great Saturday everyone!

12/31 Bread

Lately I've been frustrated at the shocking, unhealthful ingredients in affordable bread and the high price of good bread. While I realize that paying more for real food is in line with my priorities and while I realize that better health means money not spent on medical bills, still, I am frugal.

So I made my own bread yesterday. Honey Wheat with no sugar, mostly whole wheat, no powdered milk, no soy, no unpronounceable ingredients.

The kneading worked my muscles.

The aroma invigorated my senses.

The sight made me smile because I knew my family, upon returning from work and school, would sigh and grin just as they did.

 Beautiful, beautiful loaves!

How we each enjoyed a thick slice with the vegetable beef stew I'd simmered on the stove!

Our culture has denigrated cooking for centuries, first belittling it as 'women's work' and then, later, as a trivial inconvenience to be avoided as much as possible through technology. But actually, cooking is not a lowly, but a high, venerable, and sacred activity. ~~ Charles Eisenstein

My time in the kitchen felt like a sacred activity as I pondered the origin and purpose of my ingredients some of which I've grown in my own garden. The expending of effort on behalf of my life and the lives of loved ones who abide with me in this safe haven was pure love working for our pleasure and benefit.

Creation. Excitement. Satisfaction.

To live rightly in the time allotted is a matter of paramount importance, and life a sacred journey. ~~ Charles Eisenstein

Yes. Yes it is.

11/31 - Vindication

Late in the summer of 2009 the City of Eugene enforced a mandatory furlough reducing the hours of its employees and thus, their pay. This illegally broke the union contract but complaints fell on deaf ears.

The union worked together.

Yesterday Tom received this letter at work:

We received the ruling from the arbiter, Luella E. Nelson, who ruled in favor of the workers and the sanctity of our contract with the City of Eugene. This award clarifies that the City cannot use furloughs as a cost cutting measure. Arbiter Nelson directed the City to stop the mandatory furloughs, pay full restitution for hours lost due to the furlough, and give clear instructions on the layoff provisions of the contract.

Bottom line? The City is now paying for nothing.

But we'll take the check for it is money Tom should have earned in hours he should have been allowed to work.

It'll be nice to return to 'normal.'

10/31 Fresh Air

Cassie told me this morning that she and Caroline were having a terrible time falling asleep last night.

Finally, they opened their window a little.

Fell right to sleep.

The best sedative in the world is to be hydrated and sleep with a window cracked, even if the temperature is in the mid-30's. (I have to say it can be too cold to sleep with the window open, for me anyway, but high 20's or mid-30's are just fine.)

The disconnect between nature and individual causes all sorts of malfunction from insomnia, to headaches, to depression, to obesity, to pent-up emotions of the unnecessary type. We were not made to exist predominantly within walls and ceilings but to live, move, and have our being in conjunction with the earth, air, wind, fire, seasons, hot and cold, flora and fauna.

Sometimes, when it's hot or the Perseids are playing in the sky the kids, Tom, and I sleep outside on the lawn. I never sleep better than under the moon, stars, and in the cool night air. I awaken refreshed, early, with the sun gently warming me announcing that the day has begun. Though my sleeping bag may be damp with dew on the top I am always warm and toasty inside, sometimes with my cat or dog curled up next to me.

Fresh air. Connection. I forget the importance and then am reminded. Today by a daughter finally enacting what I've been telling her for years.

Fresh air will help you sleep.

9/31 Like a Lion

Frosty morning. White roofs. Pale blue sky streaked with pinks, oranges, yellows of sunrise. Invigorating chill.

I love it!

Prayers for husband as he travels north into snow and ice.

Thankfully it is March. Thawing will beat sunset here in the temperate climes of the Willamette Valley.

In like a Lion out like a Lamb.

March.

8/31 POV

Point of View. It makes a big difference.

Mondays are seen by some as the Grim Reaper of the weekend, the poisoner of Sunday. Droopy shoulders, hanging heads, too much coffee, and the expectation of Murphy's Law enacted.

I used to hate Mondays. I used to hate any day of the week that wasn't at least a Thursday. I especially hated Tuesday.

Here's how it all seemed to me at the ripe old age of 22:

Sunday is the dampened weekend day, freedom but with the specter of Monday.

Monday is the gloomy beginning of the long work week. Awful. The only upside is that you are rested from the weekend and may have some good stories.

Wednesday is the middle of the week, the worst is over, but still there is half a week left.

Thursday may be the best day of the week because the next day is...

...Friday, and all day Friday is pleasant because ahead are two days of freedom! The reason Friday isn't as perfect as Thursday is that once Friday is over, the weekend begins, and it zips by way too fast and then, BAM! it's Monday again.

Saturday is equivalent to Heaven.

Now, back to Tuesday. There is NOTHING good about Tuesday. Nothing. Worst day of the week.

That's how I looked at life until, after regularly verbalizing my longing for the weekend, a meek, sagacious, 'elderly' (she was probably the age I am now!) co-worker quietly intoned to me while on break in the women's lounge, "You don't want to wish your life away."

Boy. I'll tell you, that stung. And it sat in my mind for hours, days, weeks, and obviously years, okay decades.

My viewpoint changed right then. On the spot. And I've never looked back but began searching for the goodness of life in all its moments and have found that plenty exist. Prior to my awakening I simply sulked while overlooking simple - and grand - pleasures.

Gratitude for Ruth's courage in imparting her wisdom impels me to remember and to pay it forward.

I keep the following quote from Goldie Hawn in a little wooden cigar box with the calculator, compass, protractor, some pencils, erasers, and pens, all things I regularly pluck.

I love life. I wake up every day excited to wake up. You want to know what I think? I think you have to stop feeing sorry for yourself, and start thanking the day instead of scowling at it.

I don't always wake up excited. I'm not a millionaire actress with housekeepers, nannies, chauffeurs, houses here and there, and the means to fly away to a sunny locale when feeling blue.

BUT, this attitude can be easily adjusted. We non-millionaires don't have to worry about where to put our money to keep from being taxed to death, we don't have to pay people to keep logs and records of our employees, our real estate holdings, our appointments, etc. We have satisfactions they don't have due to living close to the earth, to reality, to our children, closer, if you will, to the edge. And, well, anonymity has a great price these days.

We all certainly have the choice to thank the day rather than scowl at it. Life is precious, each minute, only to be lived once.

"Thank you, Day! Thank you for being Monday. Thank you for what you bring including, as the sun sets, the hope of Tuesday which is no longer the worst day of the week."

7/31 - Sunday Breakfast

Some days begin with magic.

This one, for example.

I slept like a baby after setting brioche dough to rise and putting yogurt into the machine last night.

My rested body awakened in the early hours, excited to make its first batch of jolly french rolls. Soft, sticky dough felt fun, like playing with Play Dough as I rolled it into little balls, plopping them into the muffin pan.

Dough rising under a warm towel, Cassie and I visited at the table, discussing life, philosophy, challenges, and fun. Smart girl, that one.

Just as I was to put the bread into the oven Joe unexpectedly drove up in his blue pick-up truck. "I came over to take Sam for a walk," he said cheerfully. Grabbing the leash, man and man's best friend headed out the door, Cassie at their side, brown billed Alaska cap on her head. I popped the bread into the preheated oven.

Now the house has that unbeatable bread smell, Tom and Joe are out buying good bacon, and I'm about to make a fruit salad.

Caroline walks down the hall smiling as though it were Christmas morning and no one told her.

Like I said, magical morning.

6/31 As I Was Saying....Sniff

"A good heart is both important and effective in daily life. If in a small family, even without children, the members have a warm heart for each other, a peaceful atmosphere will be created. However, if one of the persons feels angry, immediately the atmosphere in the house becomes tense. Despite good food or a nice television set, you will lose peace and calm. Thus, things depend more on the mind than on matter.

Matter is important, we must have it and we must use it properly, but in this century we must combine a good brain with a good heart." ~~ the Dalai Lama

In attempting to pontificate on this quote effort is lost. All deleted, I give up. Scents of citrus, apple, cake, toasting bread crumbs, and is that pork? It's Saturday and Cassie is cooking/baking.

The sun is high in the sky hollering at me not to miss it. "Come out here. Get away from that computer, woman!"

All the while The Who wonder who I am, Mick can't get no satisfaction and right now Sir Paul is fixing a hole where the rain gets in and stops his mind from wandering.

My roof must be sound because my mind is wandering.

Those scents! That music! The pestering sunshine!

Concentration befuddled.

The food? Schnitzel with homemade applesauce of a specific variety being made right now, Orange Glazed Carrots, and Petit Fours made this morning.

How am I to focus? Weak mind, today my mind is weak weak weak. But my senses run in perfect order.

I'm going for a walk in the sunshine. Then, I'm going to dine on the best food to be found in Eugene/Springfield today.

You can thank the rockers, the daughter's culinary abilities, and the sunbeams blazing through my normally storm-darkened window.

You've been spared.

5/31 Inertia

"You have to create your own life. You can't wait for someone to get you started or do it for you. And you can't wait for it to just come to you." ~~ Anonymous

3/31 This Man

Jolly Baby grew to become a very important person.

Husband.

Father.

Friend.

By his choices we know him.

He is a Good Man.

Tom, your laugh bubbles up my own laughter, your smile brightens the room, your driving scares me, your faithfulness comforts me, your provision secures us all, and your love, well, thank you for love that permeates our hearts every day. You make me happy.

2/31 Smoke Scents

Daughters discovered incense awhile ago.

Many scents including cannabis. Don't worry, we aren't getting high from it. But it smokes like the dickens so we put it into our little log cabin incense burner. Smells nice, not at all like pot. Mesmerizing to watch the smoke exit the chimney and windows in beautiful swirls and streams.

One type of incense reminds of smoking meats. Tom heads for his cookbook, licking his lips. thinking barbecue barbecue barbecue all the way.

Scents stimulate the appetites or repel them. Such is their purpose. Perfume - oh, so delightful. The trash can, not so much.

Thanking God today for eyesight and nosesmell.

And my little log cabin gaily smoking.

1/31 - Hibernation Ends

Thirty-one days in March. Shall I attempt to post on each one of them? Perhaps. At any rate, this is the first one, done on the first day, March First.

March is a friendly month. Spring arrives. Rain. Sun. Flowers. Leaves. Hope. One has the pleasure of leisurely observing the Warm Season's approach.

I like it.

Hibernation is behind. Once again I wake up, stretch, glance around. Ah yes, the good Earth awakens with me.

Creative juices flow, invigorated anew after the long gray season.

Appetite surprises.

"I feel like making lasagna."

So I do.




It's gone now.

But not forgotten.

Quietly Step

The proper attitude toward one's self, with all its flaws, all its folly, all its selfishness and hurting of others, is one of pity, compassion, and understanding. Discipline is a crucial part of the spiritual path, but it arises out of a compassionate desire to prevent future suffering, not a hostile crusade to punish, correct, or improve oneself. It is a remembering, a gentle reminding. ~~ Charles Eisenstein

Intentional Hiatus

Pardon me but I need to be alone for awhile, in personal solitude.

My pitcher has not a drop left to share.

I'm in search of renewing sustenance.

So, feel free to talk amongst yourselves.

I'll be back at some point.

Healthier, happier, perhaps even wiser.

Time will tell.

Adieu.

Realizing Freedom and Choice

Obama is removing middle class tax cuts, increasing the tax burden, spending like a demented billionaire.

While I rarely use credit cards still the notices arrive in my mailbox. Fees added or increased. Percentage rates increased. To outrageous amounts. All because Obama forced their hands with new regulations.

Unemployment is not getting better but worsening. Tom is still on reduced hours, contract broken, case to be decided soon.

Grocery prices continue to creep creep creep upwards. I find my budgeted money bringing home fewer bags even though I am buying cheaper items, less high-end delights, more ingredients to make things myself.

Yesterday I read to my daughters about life in the former Soviet Union. From Goldie Hawn's, A Lotus Grows in the Mud I read aloud her experience visiting Russia in 1975 during the Cold War. Goldie witnessed a rare insight into every day life which included being shushed and told to gesture or whisper because of cars and homes being bugged, the KGB following her every move via black cars and tattletale women perched outside her ugly gray concrete hotel. She was introduced to three families living under one tiny apartment roof, each member having his 'own corner' to call his own. Little color. Little joy. No eye contact.

It's her story about the bread lines that astounded my girls and me.

We walk through the chill air along a grand Russian boulevard lined with baroque buildings and dart into the doorway of one that looks like a royal palace. It is now a bread hall.

I am amazed by all the customers inside, who have formed at least three different lines. Dour-faced men and women in heavy hats with gray scarves wrapped around their faces are lining up to choose what they want to buy from a glass-fronted display case.

I stand in line. A woman in a drab utilitarian uniform puts my pastry choices in a bag and hands me a ticket. I watch as my bag is taken away by another staff member in a uniform and a funny hat.

Kristina leads me to a second line, where I hand someone my ticket and pay for my pastries. Then a man gives me another ticket and points me to a third line, where I now have to wait to collect my goods.

The bread hall is my first glimpse of everyday life in Russia. They had a good idea: that everyone be employed and treated the same. I already know from listening to my journalist friends that the reality is quite different. The results are in plain sight. The human spirit is being crushed, and apathy has set in.

"My God. This is insane!" I tell Kristina. "What a screwed-up system! This whole process has taken almost an hour. It would have taken five minutes back home."

She laughs out loud, hoists her son back up on her shoulders and off we go, down the narrow streets, continuing on our journey through life under Moscow's communist rule. (Emphasis mine)

This account lingers in my mind. Is this how it begins? A good idea gone bad? Desperate people putting their faith in a disastrous leader? In greedy, ambitious politicians?

Goldie's line, 'The human spirit is being crushed, and apathy has set in,' haunts me, covers my heart and mind like the gray clouds outside my window that hide the sun, the warmth, obliterating color, dampening my spirit.

Bread line mentality isn't seeping in. It's here. And we are apathetic. We are being pushed and forced and pressured and we are just taking it. But like a watch that is wound one twist too many, the spring of our society is going to snap and we will have no one but ourselves to blame.

We'd better wake up. Before it's too late.

Sisters

These two little cuties are eighteen and nearly fifteen now. Still sharers of secrets, laughers of laughs, best friends.

Joy.

Hilarity.

Craziness.

Contentment.

Loving my life with these sweeties!

Simmering Love Affair

"A great love affair begins in the mind and has many rebirths." ~~ Cherie

My cousin and I have been talking about romance. Both moms of many kids we understand the preciousness of time alone with our husbands. Keeping romance alive amidst the pressures and expectations of society can be daunting.

But it's important to us to keep in touch with why we married our husbands, why we love them enough to walk a shared journey for all our lives.

So Cousin and I talk. And think. And share.

Like any beautiful garden marriage is plagued with weeds which require diligent discarding. Bounty rains upon those who tend the garden religiously. Love finds its way through tangled vines of neglect.

A matter of the mind, it is. One cannot simply wait for a surging mood. Infatuation is for teens. Remembrance is the key. "How do I love thee? Let me count the ways."

Count. And count again. Even when you are annoyed with your mate, especially when you are annoyed with your mate, count the ways.

Tended love simmers in the mind and heart always available for pouring out in ways splendid, intimate, and kind.

Revel in your love.

Your Own Life

We were talking about the space between us all
And the people who hide themselves behind a wall of illusion.
Never glimpse the truth, then it's far too late, when they pass away.

We were talking about the love that's gone so cold and the people
Who gain the world and lose their soul.
They don't know. They can't see. Are you one of them?

When you've seen beyond yourself, then you may find peace of mind is waiting there.

~~Within You/Without You, George Harrison

When I was young, really young, the words, "The older I get...." followed by an observation were causes for eye-rolling sighs. Overused words - 'the older I get' - but the insights that follow can be pristine. Helpful, useful, valuable, though I didn't recognize that then. Why would I? I already knew just about everything.

The older I get the more I find my attention snapping to when I hear the words, 'the older I get.' I'm finally beginning to realize that if I can grasp what a further-along-person is sharing with me, I can perhaps avoid a pitfall, or better, glean a truth without struggling quite so hard. The nuggets are not freebies because they have to be ingested, pondered, understood, before they can be fully digested. But they can be easier to come by than hard-earned wisdom.

The older I get the more I realize I don't know. How many times have I heard that? Many many many. What I 'don't know' is more than ordinary knowledge of everyday worldly-type things. Sure, there are new words, new foods, new techie things, places, people, books and songs to discover. Any fool knows that the longer a person lives the more he or she will encounter. Naturally.

But this fool is surprised to find dimensions of life new to her. Deeper levels of understanding and confusion. Harsher bites from life than imagined possible. Painful realizations of her own, well, badness. And, happily, illuminations of higher potential and achievement than dreamed. While the dark stuff is unsettling - truth can be a stinker - the good stuff is more than pleasant.

To find that, somehow in the course of my existence, I have transcended from darkness to light, or inability to ability, or misunderstanding to understanding in certain areas - seemingly while I wasn't looking - soothes and excites my heart. To know that the struggles, choices, and mistakes I've made in a span of years were knitting together a gift for me of some sort of betterment is humbling and exhilarating all at once. Gives me hope. Knocks some of my crustiness away.

Steve Jobs says it better in his 2005 commencement speech to Stanford: "...you can't connect the dots looking forward; you can only connect them looking backwards. So you have to trust that the dots will somehow connect in your future. You have to trust in something — your gut, destiny, life, karma, whatever. This approach has never let me down, and it has made all the difference in my life."

So true! I guess the reason we older-than-some people find amazement in life where younger people don't is that we can actually look back and see a long, jointed line of connected dots. It's thrilling! When the outcome is positive, of course. If one looks back and sees bad choices and unfortunate events connected together to create immense, painful disappointments, well, the reaction may still be amazement but it could be sad. Very sad. I think we all have sections of dots whose connections lead to regret. Thankfully, as long as we live and breathe, possibility exists that the negative will work together for good.

Steve spoke to me in another paragraph of his speech: "When I was 17, I read a quote that went something like: 'If you live each day as if it was your last, someday you'll most certainly be right.' It made an impression on me, and since then, for the past 33 years, I have looked in the mirror every morning and asked myself: 'If today were the last day of my life, would I want to do what I am about to do today?' And whenever the answer has been 'No' for too many days in a row, I know I need to change something."

The older I get the more I see that this is an outstanding perspective, and excellent advice. Not for the lazy or ignoble; they'll abuse it. But for those of us who realize we only go around once and that our time is what we make of it, that look in the mirror and the answering of the question may revitalize our senses, our purpose, our joy.

Dare to live your own life.

Circle of Friends Award

One of my good friends, Tshsmom, bestowed upon me a Circle of Friends Award back in early December. In response I'm to list 5 Things I Like.

First, thanks, Tshs! It's been a positive distraction, the consideration of which has made me happy.

I put this little adventure on my back burner while the drama, trauma, and Obama of my life took over.

Alas, today I pencil-jotted pertinent notes on a teeny scrap of paper.

Here's what my storming brain has come up with:

Five Things I Like:

1 - I like going to the movies on Monday mornings when other people's kids are in school. 'Old' people - besides the occasional phlegmy hocking up of stuff - are quieter and usually considerate.

2 - I like walking in warm pouring rain. Getting dripping wet. Soaked.

3 - I like when the small, red piggy bank that catches leftover change from spent grocery money cashes in at over thirty bucks.

4 - I like playing devil music - i.e. Rock - and wildly dancing alone or with any other equally uninhibited bystander.

5 - I like meditating, showering, and bathing amidst the glow of candles, string-lights, a diminutive low-wattage lamp, moonlight, sunlight, or an amber sunrise or sunset.

Joyful Heart

A joyful heart is good medicine, but a broken spirit dries up the bones.. ~~ Proverbs 17:22

A joyful heart makes a cheerful face, but when the heart is sad, the spirit is broken.. ~~ Proverbs 15:13

Breaking Kids

When asked why kids are committing suicide at such alarming rates, Goldie Hawn, a children's advocate, answered, "Hopelessness. An inability to be effective. They don't matter, I mean, they don't count. How can you count in a school when you're so pressured to make test scores? That's the measure of your excellence? Einstein was thrown out, he couldn't get into university.Where is the innovation, where is the creative energy? You can't take music and art out of schools. Not everybody is a student. But some of us can dream, some of us can create things. Who created Google? That's what's great about America. We are innovators."

She went on to say that rather than teach children by rote, "We want eager learners. We want kids who are inspired, who have wonder."

The Hawn Foundation works with schools to teach children that, "You can have control over how you think and how you feel." They teach children to recognize their emotions, to talk about them, to learn how to regulate them. Children are allowed specific times during the day to quiet their minds in focus on whatever they'd like, whether it be a flower, a picture, their feet, the horizon, whatever.

To quiet the mind allows it to recharge, in a way, its prefrontal cortex, the area where we create, learn, analyze, problem solve, and retain memory. According to Wikipedia, This brain region has been implicated in planning complex cognitive behaviors, personality expression, decision making and moderating correct social behavior. Tests have shown that when under stress the prefrontal cortext doesn't light up.

Where adults need to quiet their minds every 90 minutes or so, children require breaks every 25 minutes. In a world where over-extended busyness is foolishly considered 'productive success' we must ask ourselves, what are we doing to our kids when they are over-scheduled, over-schooled, and over-tired? No wonder school feels like an abyss. No wonder 'enrichment classes' feel like drudgery. No wonder there are conflicts galore among children - and adults for that matter - at school, at home, and out in the community. No wonder kids are often ill, with dark circles under their blood-shot eyes, behaving like lethargic little zombies. And no wonder some of them snap and turn to violence against one another, or to suicide.

I think Goldie is on to something because, as a tutor myself, I've noticed kids start to fall apart if they don't have regular breaks from schooling or from any sort of tedious task. I pushed my older kids pretty hard expecting things I shouldn't have before I figured this out. Amazing what a quick walk around the park will do or even a moment to just sit still and look out the window. What is learned with a rested brain is remembered better, too.

Personally, I find it interesting to learn that I can choose to have control over my feelings. Goldie mentions that the negativity of the news is depressing to her and she has to consciously find her happiness again. And she does. This is something I'm working on. The news - the state of the state, the nation, and the world - has a tremendous effect on all of us. More than we realize. We find ourselves depressed, sad, gloomy, anxious, having nightmares and don't really know why. I mean, it's just the news, right? That said, imagine how children feel hearing these things every day from the media, teachers, parents, and other kids. On top of that, they are expected to be top students, get into top universities, enter high-powered jobs, and well, yeah, change the world!

Our children deserve to be naturally nurtured, taught practical mental and emotional health concepts, and most of all, given a hopeful environment in which to dream.

Counting the Ways

Distress in life illuminates if one gives it enough attention and time.

There they are, my husband and children, loving me through the dark night of disillusion. In quiet and compassion those who know me best patiently carry-on, carry me, move and breathe in love for us all. They witness my struggle knowing I must do it myself in order to be free just as, to live, the butterfly must exit the cocoon and stretch her new wings alone.

Here I am, exhausted and catapulted to joy!

"...weeping may endure for a night, but joy cometh in the morning." Psalm 30:5

Thank you, Tom and kids! Your love is a mystery to me, a beautiful mystery."

'All You Need is Love'

Okay, so I've embraced the obstacle. I've forgiven. I've studied till my thinker is sore. I've prayed. I've listened to my loved ones' advice and input. I've meditated. I've wrestled with my 'self'. I've been quiet in my soul. I see some lessons to take away from this. I've written them down along with my impressions and responses.

Now, I'm letting it go.

Good-bye.

“I must say that the biggest lesson you can learn in life, or teach your children, is that life is not castles in the skies, happily ever after. The biggest lesson we have to give our children is truth. We're all built with illusions. And they break.”~~Goldie Hawn

Oh, how they break.

A Couple of Things

Whatever happened to the life that we once knew?
Can we really live without each other?
Where did we lose the touch
That seemed to mean so much?
~~ The Beatles, Free As a Bird

Wrestled with my heart until four A.M.

Then I slept.

And this morning a couple of helpful thoughts come about.

Love your enemies for they reveal to you your faults and virtues. Hard process but necessary.

"...having an enemy is very bad. It disturbs our mental peace and destroys some of our good things. But if we look at it from another angle, only an enemy gives us the opportunity to practice patience. No one else provides us with the opportunity for tolerance. Since we do not know the majority of the five billion human beings on this earth, therefore the majority of people do not give us an opportunity to show tolerance or patience either. Only those people whom we know and who create problems for us really provide us with a good opportunity to practice tolerance and patience." ~~ Dalai Lama

Another aspect comes to mind. Fleshing out the truth that God measures the heart or intention, I realize more clearly than ever that to do a 'good deed' is just about worthless if it's done negatively, disrespectfully, dishonorably, discourteously, or in any other 'dis' sort of way which results in frustration, anger, or hatred for anyone involved.

I have learned that it's not wrong to feel frustration and anger, it's what I do with them that matters. Succumb or examine and resist. Much is revealed if I pay attention. Also, harsh examples of bad behavior which play out brazenly before me are great teachers indeed. I am determined to spare others from that sort of behavior ever coming from me. I also realize the anguish of the struggle of a person who wants to be good being forced to endure ugliness, to personally struggle with it. It kills me to see my kids struggling, too, and yet, I am so pleased that they do, indeed, struggle rather than just let negativity take root without a fight. They are fighting, valiantly. And they strengthen me by doing so. I hope I am encouraging them as well.

Happily, during the tempest that has been ongoing for weeks and growing wilder all the time, I have continually recognized the voice of my inner being gently reminding me, "Don't get lost in it. Remember who you are." My True North inner compass is staying true, even when the shock, frustration, and anger churn the hardest. At times integrity is nearly overwhelmed, but my compass eventually rights things. Good to know.

Battening down the hatches. Storm on the horizon.

If it's true that Christians will be recognizd by love what sort of person is recognized by hatred?

If You Want It

Is it really that simple? That if I want the war to be over, and you want the war to be over, and millions of us want the war to be over that it can be? Is it really that simple? Can we ever ever ever get away from the manipulators long enough to think for ourselves, to concentrate on what unites rather than divides us? Can we get our acts together and vote the cretans out of office, vote in intelligence people whose integrity will not be bribed, bought, or sold?

Why do we let the few govern the masses while they become bloody millionaires and we scrape the bottom of our family money chests?

Who's in charge here?

Us? Them?

Good Lord!

Taxation Without Representation

Got my federal tax stuff in the mail today. Thickest of their booklets I've ever received.

Can't even get a week away from Christmas when the vermin start slithering under the door.

Feeling quite disenchanted with the current administration and the big government they embrace. Feels like a downhill slide into an abyss. Today's piece of mail doesn't help.

I'll let George Harrison speak for me:

Taxman

Let me tell you how it will be
There's one for you, nineteen for me
'Cause I'm the taxman, yeah, I'm the taxman

Should five per cent appear too small
Be thankful I don't take it all
'Cause I'm the taxman, yeah I'm the taxman

If you drive a car, I'll tax the street,
If you try to sit, I'll tax your seat.
If you get too cold I'll tax the heat,
If you take a walk, I'll tax your feet.

Don't ask me what I want it for
If you don't want to pay some more
'Cause I'm the taxman, yeah, I'm the taxman

Now my advice for those who die
Declare the pennies on your eyes
'Cause I'm the taxman, yeah, I'm the taxman
And you're working for no one but me

Another Beatles' song hums behind this one in my mind: Revolution!

Cat's Away

Frustrated.

Little Bit.

Holding in my hands, turning this way, turning that. Gazing at news of deceit most personal, most brazen.

Ugliness. Greed. Mockery.

Christmas Day sneakery, violation.

Miles away but to my heart, to our hearts.

Speaking for three, for six. We will not be divided or broken.

We will not become like you.

Ever.

Limited and Precious

Below is a short excerpt from a speech given by Steve Jobs to Stanford graduates after his cancer diagnosis and how the prospect of death had ceased to be just a useful intellectual concept (as quoted in Inside Steve's Brain, by Leander Kahney):

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 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 importantly, have the courage to follow your heart and intuition. They somehow already know what you truly want to become. Everything else is secondary.

Continually clearing out the old and false from heart and mind to make way for the new and true.

Happy New Year!

Merry Christmas

Merry Christmas to you, my blog readers! How I cherish you.

My wish for you is a pleasant day, a good day, one that rings happily in your ears when you lay your head on your pillow tonight. A day that keeps you smiling after your eyes are closed. A day of fun, of peace, of blessings, of understanding.

I won't keep you a second longer!

On with the Celebration!!

"Glory to the Newborn King!"

Twenty-Four - Merry Christmas Eve!

My series of pre-Christmas postings has come to end here with this last post. It's been fun exploring random thoughts my mind swirls up.

Christmas musings. Easy to elicit, easy to express. Warm fuzzies, egg nog, evergreens, and children scrubbed clean.

Jolly old elf with attitude just right to bring out the kind and generous in even the grinchiest scrooge.

Pensive hearts turn to the babe in the manger, celebrating his birthday which isn't really his birthday, he was born in the summer, but hey, we're too busy playing in the sun, planting gardens, and grilling meat then. Besides, how can summer compete with snow - or dreams of it - and woolly hats and scarves, wassail and cocoa, nuts and fruits, and hands and noses warming by crackling fires?

It's the coziness, the inwardness that creates the Christmas glow, I think. When looking out the window through precipitation's designs one is comforted to be nestled safely inside, encouraged with the choice to suit up and explore the outdoors' cold and wet, bright stars, descending snowflakes, visual evidence of one's breath, or to remain inside to explore games with children, victuals leisurely prepared, arts, crafts, projects long undone, and napping. Sweet, guilt-free napping! Because the earth is asleep she needs less tending by we mere mortals which affords us the opportunity to turn thoughts more toward wants and less toward needs.

(Yes, there are those who celebrate Christmas in the Southern Hemisphere amidst summer. They probably feel as sorry for us as we do for them.)

Back to the babe in the manger. Here is where it doesn't matter if one is in shorts or snow suit because Jesus came just the same. To satisfactorily contemplate the meaning of His life - and death - would take a thousand Christmases.

But today we have this one, this Christmas, this remembrance of God invading human life with a message of hope, of love, of rescue. A thinking person owes it to himself to ponder who Jesus was - and is - for this unusual Jewish man cannot be simply ignored. History tells us he was amazing.

This Christmas Eve my heart turns with focus to the God I worship throughout the year. The celebration adds a sacredness, a space to absorb what I know and how I feel. That fellow human beings all over the globe celebrate with me adds to the quiet, the opportunity, for together we take deep breaths and realize that something extraordinary happened in that stable 2000 years ago. God began anew his conversation with mankind.

And I, for one, am listening.

Twenty-Three - Instinct

Like many women, I have a keen Mother's Instinct or Women's Intuition. And I listen to it as it seldom fails.

Instincts get a bum rap. Until a tragedy is averted because they are acted upon. But those instances are quickly forgotten. Science and Intellectualism stand arrogantly at the tip-top of the hill looking down on instinct and intuition, but they shouldn't.

Mysterious ways soften prideful edges, flesh out the skeleton of 'What We Should Know', creating instead creatures far grander than the most thorough college education can produce. There is more to us than the Scarecrow's Brain and the Tin Man's Heart. But that 'more' is quiet, non-intrusive. Oh, it can be loud but usually 'life' is louder. Our attention turns to the immediate, the demanding, the seemingly important and we can't hear the still small voice.

The still small voice that never says, "I told you so!" It doesn't have to. You already know.

I listen to my instincts. As a home-schooling mom I encourage the kids to 'trust your instincts' and they do. Sometimes our instincts are wrong so they shouldn't be given full reign. There seems to be some sort of connection between our sub-conscious and our conscious and I think instincts and intuition are some of the messengers that communicate to us.

If only we will listen.

I find the mystery fascinating!

Twenty-Two - Nourish

Stuffy nose upon awakening. Hmm...

Plans change.

Need nourishment.

Of all sorts.

Oatmeal and Jasmine tea. Satisfying.

Back to bed. Doze amidst twinkling white Christmas lights bedecked with shiny green, gold, and yellow orbs. Grayness beyond glass panes.

Bangers and Mash. Broccoli, too. Sous chefs Tom, Cassie, and Caroline. Christmas carols play as we peel, cut, brown, simmer, steam, then eat. Glowing candles - ambience.

Sun peeks, clouds dissipate. Space claimed on heated floor, glass door wide open, sitting, leaning pillowed against white wall. Sixty degree breezes caress. Winter sun so low in sky yet full and gauzy bright. Eyes close. Face relaxes. Warmth.

Yes, nourishment of all sorts.

Feeling better. Much.

Twenty-One - Solstice

The 2009 Winter Solstice will occur at 9:47 a.m. on Monday, December 21, 2009. That will be the local time on the western coast of the continental United States.

Artist: Beatles
Album: Abbey Road
Title: Here Comes The Sun

Here comes the sun, here comes the sun,
and I say it's all right

Little darling, it's been a long cold lonely winter
Little darling, it feels like years since it's been here
Here comes the sun, here comes the sun
and I say it's all right

Little darling, the smiles returning to the faces
Little darling, it seems like years since it's been here
Here comes the sun, here comes the sun
and I say it's all right

Sun, sun, sun, here it comes...
Sun, sun, sun, here it comes...
Sun, sun, sun, here it comes...
Sun, sun, sun, here it comes...
Sun, sun, sun, here it comes...

Little darling, I feel that ice is slowly melting
Little darling, it seems like years since it's been clear
Here comes the sun, here comes the sun,
and I say it's all right
It's all right

Music and lyrics humming through my mind - I'm smiling. May it be a familiar refrain that settles gently on your spirit, too, so we can sing together.

Happy Solstice!

Twenty - Ceremony

When humans participate in ceremony, they enter a sacred space. Everything outside of that space shrivels in importance. Time takes on a different dimension. Emotions flow more freely. The bodies of participants become filled with the energy of life, and this energy reaches out and blesses the creation around them. All is made new; everything becomes sacred. ~~ Sun Bear

Nineteen - Play

Cassie, Caroline, and I saw The Nutcracker ballet over in Eugene at the Hult Center last night. So beautiful. Enchanted, magical! Just what we needed.

And we saw many friends there, too, which only added to the specialness of the evening.

This morning Tom and I will head over to the Holiday Market to snoop around. A friend sells honey there. Maybe we'll find more people we know, and goodies to amaze the senses. Who knows?

Let the play continue!

Merry Weekend Before Christmas! Make the most of it.

Eighteen - Courage

Most people attempt to skirt problems rather than meet them head-on. We attempt to get out of them rather than suffer through them. Indeed, the tendency to avoid problems and the emotional suffering inherent in them is the primary basis of all psychological illness. And since most of us have this tendency to a greater or lesser degree, most of us lack complete mental health. Those who are most healthy learn not to dread but actually to welcome problems. Although triumph isn't guaranteed each time we face a problem in life, those who are wise are aware that it is only through the pain of confronting and resolving problems that we learn and grow.
~~~ M. Scott Peck, M.D.

Seventeen - Knowing

Carl Jung was interviewed on film toward the end of his life.

"Do you believe in God?" the interviewer asked.

Jung, who was about 83 at the time, puffed on his pipe and answered, "Believe in God? We use the word 'believe' when we think of something as true but for which we do not yet have a substantial body of evidence. No, no, I don't believe in God. I know there is a God."

Eight days until Christmas Day. These are the best days of the holiday, almost better than the actual day which always passes quickly. I relish moments in darkened rooms lit only by twinkling lights and candles, stories read, movies watched, laughter, sharing, and quiet. Everything smells better, looks prettier, tastes more delicious, feels gentler. Relaxation.

For me, the extra hours of precious contemplation during Christmas feed my soul and gracefully stir my heart through quiet nights and mornings when my family is peacefully sleeping. I read once that a contemplative is one who takes a small bit of life experience and milks it for all it's worth. That describes me. Opportunities for learning present themselves everywhere. I grab hold of them and squeeze until I'm sure I've got all that I possibly can whether the learning is invigorating or downright nasty. There is a need to know. It's the way I'm made.

God made us to be learners, he intends for us to grow. It is not a given, no. We are told to work at it.

A man may perform astonishing feats and comprehend a vast amount of knowledge, and yet have no understanding of himself. But suffering directs a man to look within. If it succeeds, then there, within him, is the beginning of his learning. ~~ Soren Kierkegaard

Suffering is not the only method that God uses to direct a person inward, but it's the most common. And it's not always bigtime suffering such as illness or loss. Often it's the 'quiet suffering,' the personal stuff that no one else sees, the tangles that are hard to explain, the weight that loads a heart down. One can choose to block such things out - though they always manifest themselves somehow, some way - or they can contemplate them, learn, and hopefully grow.

It's a matter of perspective, as I always say.

The longer I live, the clearer I see.

What better time than Christmas - the celebration of God's Gift to mankind - to make time for thoughtful consideration of just what it is we are all supposed to be doing here in this great classroom called life?

Sixteen - Old Lyrics Revisited

On an ancient record album - yes, record album - I have of Michael Murphey's, before he went cowboy and added the Martin to his name, there is a song entitled, Blessing In Diguise. I was a teenager when I first heard it. Yet, a few lines continue to rumble through my head decade upon decade.

It was a blessing in disguise
A foolish move can make you wise
A change brings back around the sun
So I can swim into the sky.

Tornados, ghosts, and lord of dreams
Ah, they're never what they seem
Thank you for opening my eyes!
Good-bye, sweet blessing in disguise.

Being one who 'thinks too much' - a taunt with which I heartily disagree - I have of late taken to muttering to myself during stressful times, "I haven't been me since I was three."

Thanks to a long-in-the-works blessing in disguise which was recently and utterly surprisingly revealed, suddenly and completely, I am stunned to find myself free.

Free!

I am me again.

Though I didn't commit a crime, I think I know how a prisoner feels when he walks out of the penitentiary after a long, grueling, gray-world sentence. The stink of the buildings hangs on, the sallow skin, sunken eyes, disorientation remain. But deep within, a Phoenix rises and can be felt in the heart.

Freedom.

Rebirth.

All the world lies before, unexpectedly swelling with vivid color and endless opportunity.

And the lightness. As though I could float up into the starry sky!

Darkness may descend tomorrow. Life's like that. Because of my sweet blessing in disguise there is wisdom, energy, and clarity to better face the inevitable storms heading my way.

Throughout the whole of life one must continue to learn to live, and what will amaze you even more, throughout life one must learn to die. ~~ Seneca

Little deaths - of all sorts - endings, surrenders, consciously giving up control of our lives when it is appropriate, ultimately handing ourselves over to God.

Grateful to God am I for putting to death a half-century of discipline that has been good for my soul.

Whatever may be ahead, I humbly embrace the next chapter of my life.

Learning to live. Learning to die. Learning to be reborn.

Fifteen - Tranquility

Quietude, which some men cannot abide because it reveals their inward poverty, is as a palace of cedar to the wise, for along its hallowed courts the King in his beauty deigns to walk. ~~ Charles H. Spurgeon

When we are unable to find tranquility within ourselves, it is useless to seek it elsewhere. ~~ Francois de La Rochefoucauld

Feeling tranquility like never before this Christmas. Not because all is perfect in my world, but all is well with my soul.

Fourteen - Hope

If you want to build a ship, don't herd people together to collect wood and don't assign them tasks and work, but rather teach them to long for the endless immensity of the sea.

~~ Antoine de Saint-Exupery

(Photo by Ben Klusman, Enko Photography)

Thirteen - Relief

It's actually happening.

I'm enjoying the Christmas Season again.

Some moms and others may empathize with me. It gets hard, making a holiday magical year after year. One can become disillusioned when tuckered out from all the madness and being taken for granted.

But this year, I decided to take matters into my own hands. Downsizing, taking my own ridiculous expectations off my shoulders, avoiding certain things that drain drain drain me, sticking to my personal goals, and best of all, delegation.

It's made a huge difference.

The decision to enjoy Christmas was a good one. To think of the strain I put myself under all those years. I'd say, "What a waste!" but it wasn't a waste. Comparisons aid in understanding.

Oh, don't go thinking there is a lack of Christmas cheer around here. Quite the contrary. With Mom - me - relaxed and in a good mood most of the time (no one's perfect!), there is energy to decorate, shop for gifts, cook nourishing meals, bake up a storm, play play play, read, relax, walk, and enjoy all sorts of new things coming our way.

Relief. That's what I feel this Christmas. Relief that the bad guys are gone, stress is on the down low, many of my demons have been conquered, my eyes are open again to things that give me joy, and joy I have.

Relief.

It's been a really long haul.

Intermission

My last post - with the frost etchings - is going to be allowed to linger in the Top Position for awhile. It makes me happy.

Besides, I want to do some baking for the next few days. Finally, I have free time.

Merry Christmastime, everyone!

I'll be back before you know it.

Ten, Eleven, and Twelve - Nature's Art

Few things excite me more than Nature's Art.


Jack Frost etchings are near the top of my list.


We don't see frosty beauty like this often in the Willamette Valley but when we do, it is admired by me in long, lingering, shivering gazes.

Enjoy!

Click on each photo for a larger view.

Nine - Friendship

Friendship is born at that moment when one person says to another: 'What! You, too? Thought I was the only one.' ~~ C.S. Lewis

A faithful friend is a strong defense: and he that hath found such an one hath found a treasure. ~~ Ecclesiastes 6:14

Remember, no man is a failure who has friends. ~~ It's a Wonderful Life

The ornament of a house is the friends who frequent it. ~~ Ralph Waldo Emerson

This post is for Cassie and Caroline and all their friends.

You make my heart sing!

Eight - Curiosity

I could not, at any age, be content to take my place by the fireside and simply look on. Life was meant to be lived. Curiosity must be kept alive. One must never, for whatever reason, turn his back on life. ~~ Eleanor Roosevelt

Apparently, I was a mighty curious child. Mom said I was always getting into things, pushing the boundaries, touching, smelling, tasting. Always curious.

Hands slapped many a time. "NO!" But for the most part I think my journey of discovery was allowed when safe.

Mom loves to tell about when she'd make bread at home and I, not yet eye-level with the wooden board where she kneaded the dough, would repeatedly lift my arm so I could stick my little fingers on the edge of the board, coating them in flour.

"That's not sugar, Cherie," Mom would say every time.

I'd stick my fingers in my mouth and roll that flour around my tongue. I liked the dryness of it, the taste, too. Still do.

Mom marveled at me. People thought I was odd.

Who knew I'd grow up to be a better-than-average baker?

The signs were there.

Beginning with those curious little fingers.

Curiosity. Let it flourish!

Seven - Respect

Know that although in the eternal scheme of things you are small, you are also unique and irreplaceable, as are all your fellow humans everywhere in the world. ~~ Margaret Laurence

This is the final test of a gentleman: his respect for those who can be of no possible value to him. ~~ William Lyon Phelps

There is within the human heart the capacity for inexplicable kindness measured by respect for fellow human beings. Once the idea that all men, women, and children are made in the image of God takes hold in a mind the heart follows with enormous impetus. Respect takes root. Working in tandem, heart and mind move, instinctually, mindfully.

At work one day, when I was a mere 26, I noticed a fire truck rush past the large, picture window in front of my desk. My fellow employees and my boss raced outside to see what was happening. I followed. A tiny, rundown shack was on fire. We stood at a short concrete wall above a very low-income neighborhood like lords and ladies watching the occupants scramble to get everyone out of the house. A large woman holding a dirty, diapered baby sobbed uncontrollably as all she owned in the world, along with her rented shelter, burned to the ground yards away. Another woman stood at her side patting her on the back.

Before I even knew what was happening I found myself hurrying along the gravel walkway, down, down to the little burning home. I had never met this woman, had never seen her before that moment. She was a complete stranger. I hugged her and she clung to me as though I was her only friend in the world. I kissed the baby's head. I assured the woman that there would be help for her, that I would help her. Shaken to her core, she had the presence of mind to write down for me the address where she would stay until she figured out what to do. It was her brother's home.

After work I went home and gathered some clothes and a few toys my son had outgrown. I bought diapers. I boxed up food. I picked flowers. I put some cash into a small envelope along with my name and number should she need anything else. Then, I drove to the address she'd given me. I knocked on the door. Her eyes opened wide when she saw me. "I didn't think you'd actually come back to help," she said in astonishment. She accepted the gifts with gratitude. The others in the house silently watched our interaction, seemingly stunned. I hugged her warmly. She thanked me.

And I never saw her again. When I checked back I was told she'd moved out of town.

My actions at the time were pretty much a blur. I'd never done anything of that nature so impulsively before.

I don't retell this story for accolades. Not at all. I tell this story because of the one thing that is startlingly clear in my memory. After I'd hugged the woman and climbed the path back up to the wall where my boss and co-workers were still gawking at the sad scene, my boss, who had seen my encounter with the fire victim, said to me, " You can't help people like that. She'll just go find somewhere else to squat."

His words, like a shock of frigid water thrown on my naive heart, still sting today. Not because he hurt me. He didn't. The sting from his coldhearted reaction informed my idealistic mind that it is possible for hardness to overcome a heart of flesh and turn it to stone. Like Ebenezer Scrooge, someone or something somewhere had hurt this poor man, rendering him incapable of simple compassion.

See, he had no respect for the handiwork of God, or for the ways of love, the mystery of each unique irreplaceable person.

I lost some respect for my boss that day. But I gained a modicum of wisdom, which I admit, I sometimes forget.

Humanly speaking, there is no one beneath me, or above me.

We are all in this together.

Respect the individual.

Six - Wonder

If a child is to keep alive his inborn sense of wonder, he needs the companionship of at least one adult who can share it, rediscovering with him the joy, excitement and mystery of the world we live in. ~~ Rachel Carson

The moment when you first wake up in the morning is the most wonderful of the twenty-four hours. No matter how weary or dreary you may feel, you possess the certainty that, during the day that lies before you, absolutely anything may happen. And the fact that it practically always doesn't, matters not a jot. The possibility is always there. ~~ Monica Baldwin

Five - Tears

There is a sacredness in tears. They are not the mark of weakness, but of power. They speak more eloquently than ten thousand tongues. They are messengers of overwhelming grief...and unspeakable love. ~~ Washington Irving

Four - Silence

I think the first virtue is to restrain the tongue; he approaches nearest to gods who knows how to be silent, even though he is in the right. ~~ Cato the Elder

Learning the restfulness of silence is a new experience for me. Understand I mean not just the absence of speaking or other noise, but calm silence in my being. Tranquility amidst external confusion. In certain situations, silence assures. Strength lives there.

Sometimes one must speak out especially for those who cannot speak for themselves.

Then again, sometimes the noise from opponents is too loud, too chaotic. A wrong threatens to occur and one is powerless to point it out. So occur it does. It is then that silence is a comforting companion because she reminds you that God can work without you, does so everyday. Lay your worry down. It will be all right. Interior quiet is the better choice when expressions of common sense fall on deaf ears.

"Be still and know that I am God."

Trust. Listen.

Sweet surrender.

Three - Courtesy

Life is short, but there is always time enough for cour-tesy. ~~ Ralph Waldo Emerson

Friends are helpful not only because they will listen to us, but because they will laugh at us; Through them we learn a little objectivity, a little modesty, a little courtesy; We learn the rules of life and become better players of the game. ~~ Will Durant

Scratching puppy ears.

Pouring hot chocolate for another.

Holding the door, offering a hand, carrying groceries through drenching rain to the kitchen counter. Not because you have to, because you want to.

Politeness for politeness sake.

Showing kindness whether merited or not.

Offering warmth in action.

Good medicine in an often rude world.

Courtesy.

Two - Love's Effects

Hatred paralyzes life; love releases it. Hatred confuses life; love harmonizes it. Hatred darkens life; love illuminates it. ~~ Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr.

The word 'hate' is an ugly word to view on the page. I don't like it at all. Makes me tense just looking at it. But the word 'love' is pleasant and soothing. Concepts real and true.

Choices to take, decisions to make.

Easy to be crabby, angry, dourly. To grouch around, criticize, fume. Harder to see the bright side. Hard to overcome frustration, especially when its cause is entirely outside of ourselves. This takes a certain amount of training for some of us. But train we must if its love's effects we desire.

The effects of hate harm deep, jagged, sometimes irretrievably. But love, love, love does indeed cover a multitude of sins. Love's effects pave the way for understanding.

Understanding leads to openness and cooperation.

And forgiveness.

And togetherness.

And eventually, joy.

One - Simplicity

The ability to simplify means to eliminate the unnecessary so that the necessary may speak. ~~ Hans Hofmann

Winter does this. Leaves fall, bushes turn to sticks, snow muffles noise.

What was hidden in the blossoming of summer and the busyness of harvest seems to step forward.

And speak.

Beauty in its time.

Perfect.

Considering It

I'm seriously considering posting every day in December, too.

Christmas Spirit is bubbling up.

Maybe it can cheer?

Maybe I can keep myself cheered?

What d'ya think?