Returned (from a walk):
How magical it is to walk when the night is dark and the mind is bright. Too bad I need a flash in case of coyotes, and other critters.

Away, we were going away, from my writing tools - corel draw, corel photo, all my saved pieces on word. How will I share? What will I share? Yipes.
I was asleep. Fortunately, in the passenger seat as we drove to the farm. A good driving comapanion I am not. The shrilling ring wakens me. Technology. Inquiries.
Sleep will not return. I sit up, alert. I'd already observed the skinny bright sliver cradling the round pregnant Momma moon.
But this was again the miracle - the miracle of wonder, through the universe, while gazing at the stars. The wonder of Orion as he changes his position through the seasons, ending with his disappearing act. The wonder of constellations as they appeared in Mombasa, or the Gold Coast, where I let slip the opportunity to observe.
The stars, in their fluidity, I wonder at. I wonder at the miracle of creation. I wonder at the miracle of the mystery.

Part of my every day prayer:
Dear Lord, please be with all the children of the world, especially where there is war, starvation, addicition, abuse...

Hugs
This started as "gratitude floating". It was originally for a dear friend whom I have not seen in a long time and I miss very much. Now it is for you too.

Sunshine and Play
I was yuckin' and muckin' - oh, no, the muck is outside - about in the house. Yuckin' just because it's March. The sun - it's shining! I need to get outdoors where I can muck in the real muck. The heaps of snow are melting. The sun is so much sunnier than those silly lights.
Ahhh. Sprinnng.
Then who to my wondering eyes should appear but one jolly fellow - a retired doctor, no less - and eight - no, just one - tiny - no huge actually - reindeer. No, no, no, it's a dog. And he's with me. But the jolly old fellow - not really, old, I mean - has a shovel - not tiny, not huge - just kind of in between. He's walking down the street with it. Occasionally, he pauses, chips away at the slushy ice.
He feels need to comment, "A kid at play."
"Who can resist!", I say.

The Beautifuls
This is a story about self esteem. It is not about superior beings. As with most of my pieces it is written for myself firstly. Then it is written for the "Beautifuls". They know who they are but I will give them some identity here just to remind them. The first beautiful is my beloved "Cat". The next is TW. Then comes S. and the most recent that I have told is J. J. may not get to see this. Her family doesn't have a computer in their home. Maybe I'll remember when she comes for a sleepover.
I have identified another Beautiful but I have not told her. She will be able to identify herself as she reads this. She is about my own age. Though she likes to tell stories, this beautiful one is very private about herself.
There are hopefully others that I have tried to tell how beautiful they are. At this instant I can only name one other but I want this to be for all women - women I know or have encountered, women who are reading this. And truly I want it to be for all humanity. Maybe we could change the word to "wonderful" so that men folk might feel embraced by the thoughts as well.

I have a grave concern that humankind does not take seriously the need to tell children, through their growing up, about how truly beautiful they are. We do not tell each other how wonderful we are. And if we are telling each other, we are doing it not nearly often enough.
Why do we have such a capacity to criticize and lay blame? Somehow we seem to think that positive attributes will be recognized by - what - osmosis?
Now just in the saying I am laying blame. That is not my intent. I want more so that this be a recognition. If it also serves as a gentle reminder, my heart will sing. If it enrages anyone the tears will touch my cheek as they so often do for those who have less.
I only but mention the "men folk". I do not want to stereotype, but I believe you can guess my direction of thinking. Male and female were of course created differently. I believe God sees us all as beloved. Why can't we treat each other in that fashion? In this time there exists more equality. But that is not to say equality exists in every place, and in every moment in this time.

I name individuals as beautiful because they are mostly not recognizing it for themselves. Maybe along the way they have been put down. I think it is not always done intentionally though sadly occasionally it is. I feel sometimes mothers are not secure in their own beauty, their own self awareness, if they are not telling their own daughters of their worth. Perhaps fathers are not sure if they can tell their own children how beautiful, how wonderful, they are because of today's trends. Again, they have probably not been told this often themselves.

Sometimes as adult people we are put down occasionally, or more, by those we view as being important in our lives. We might see ourselves as being mean, or stupid, or not worthy, or uncomfortable just beacuse of another's doing, another's words. We see ourselves in this way especially when we are at our lowest.

Dear Beautiful ones, I near the end of this lesson. If you already recognize yourself for being beautiful I congratulate you. If you see yourself as being more beautiful than another I reprimand you. Please take a moment now to hesitate. Pause on the beauty of yourself. And then of course proceed to remind your children of how beautiful they are, even if they're a teenager. Maybe especially if they are a teenager (just take care how you say it - maybe an e-mail or note). You might even gently ask those you love to remind you of your own wonderfulness. Don't wait too long. Hearts may be at risk.

Waiting for Spring

Snow
In case anyone is wondering why I would do a piece called "Waiting for Spring" I asked if I could post this picture of our niece taken last Sunday, March 19. So that you need not check your calender, I'll remind you that is the day before the first of spring.
I apparently thrive with change and sometimes question whether I might actually be able to manage living where the seasons do not so visibly alter. Still....

I like to observe. And I especially like to observe beauty. Last Sunday I was observing Angel.A. and...

My wish list:

• more time to be creative (yah, yah - I know - think more about my priorities - don't stop to check for e-mails or comments on my blog so often).
• windows 2000 - so I wouldn't have to struggle so much with all the gobbledy goop that keeps showing up on my posts on Explorer.
• to be more like the androyd Data who can read about a kazillion words/minute - I would like to write a kazillion words/minute to keep track of all the ideas that keep enetering my brain when I actually have moments to think.
• to have a digital camera so I could get back to photography, which I love.
  

The Man in the Moon

Jesus -
Is the man in the moon.

Oh?
I say.

Well,
He's - close to the moon.
He put the man in the moon.

Oh yes -
I say.

-----------------------------

A drive -
The best time-
To talk.

These times
They are rare.

------------------------------

I'm a teenager.
I'm popular.
You better get used to it.

Okay -
I say.
(A more typical conversation.)

-----------------------------

But this driving talk -
It is amazing.

Do you mean like Heaven?
I say.

Yes.

Do you mean Jesus and the angels
Are close to the moon?

Yes.

Like Auntie Ida?

Oh yeah, I forgot.
(Maybe she was thinking about Grandpa.)

Jesus is walking around the moon.
He's watching us.

Oh?
I say.

I'm working on a piece called Waiting for Spring. The words are not difficult. The graphics require that I play with a totally new program that I think will allow me much freedom for collages. I was so pleased when I discovered it. I'm having so much fun. And get this - dear techie G. has said that I'm charting new territory in our little family of three with the blog creation as well as all the usage of the corel programs.
Hopefully we don't have to wait for the piece until next spring. Until then...

RAMBLINGS
Rover and Billy were up to their usual shenanigans. I never quite knew if the dogs, or I, enjoyed our walks more on the farm road. Certainly I had grown up doing journeys on this roadway but after living away for some thirty years the way was less trodden. Perhaps I embraced the experience more now than as a child.

On this fourth day of Christmas the beauty of the world about me nearly took my breath away as it so often did. Usually the winter scene was less appealing. This day, however, was different than I had ever recalled. Fog had been hanging around for the past few days, waiting for some exciting sideline. The glittery glamour had shone for anyone to take notice on the rare occasions the sun chose to shine. When the wind interfered with the jewel quality, or the sun was not sharing its radiance, my walks were short. At least I did not linger much to glance about. My throbbing need for sunbeams to warm my soul brought me to hurry so that I might find sunlight from some other source - words on a page or colours in a magazine.

Today the sun was not shining through the grey. Rain was threatening. The sky had been sketched heavily with charcoal.The blanket of trees on the creeks hillside was woven of comforting browns, charcoals, blacks, and platinum. Silver threads were interspersed in natures perfect tapestry.

The dogs - I had no inkling of their whereabouts. Quite honestly, I was momentarily unaware of my own presence on that road. I lost sense of the motion of my feet. Maybe I was not really moving at all. Where had I traveled? I wondered in my mind's eye if this was anything like Jesus saw as He hung nailed to the cross. Amidst all the greyness of the world did He recognize the magic about to happen?

____________________________

At times I wonder what it would be like to be totally inside the brain of another being. There is a spattering of desire and then I move on. The inclination is not so much to know what the other thinks about me. It is more the wish to see the world through another's eyes. I believe through my sensitivity and ability to empathize I have had tiny glimpses into the minds of others. I have also felt as though another was inside my own thoughts when they were empathizing with me. At times I felt amazed. At times I felt frightened. Mostly, if I allowed, I felt comforted, strengthened.

On this day, as my feet were maybe, or not, touching the ground, when the magic seemed to be in the chill air where frost had touched and rain was threatening, the tapestry brought me to ponder on my daughter's thoughts. Her labels of Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder (ADHD) and Oppositional Defiance Disorder (ODD) both suggested "muddled"? pathways in the brain. Certainly her behaviour and thinking sometimes seemed to indicate the possibility. Though much intervention has been applied, my thoughts lingered on what her brain might see. Her eye may see something similar to my own, but most certainly her brain would not. Of course no one's brain would see exactly the same because of differences in past experience and knowledge. However I am led to understand that someone with ADHD may see the world as a blurred television picture with much static. I suppose that is what made me desire to enter her thoughts that day when I saw so much contrast, so many shades of grey and brown and black and white. I tried to imagine not having the "eye"? to see the contrast, the differences. I suspected it would all be one dull, monotonous smear. I tried not to dwell on how depressed I feel when I sense so much greyness about me.

This was certainly not the first time I had the penchant to enter my daughter's thoughts. Other times were when she amazed me with comments far beyond her age. Considering the "muddledness" of her thought pathways I sometimes wondered from "whence came the knowledge of the elders"? Typically these comments came at "the most splendid of times to talk with your child", that is, while we were on a road trip. Her level of comfort still occasionally leans toward her needing or desiring to hold her baby doll. The awesome times would bring discussions of birth control, angels, birth mothers and Jesus. Her insights - at times I felt inspired.

Now, as I take a large comforting breath for myself, I will allow my fleeting thoughts of entering the mind of someone else to flow gently over me. I will be grateful for the opportunity to see what I see, for myself, and to have those minutest of nanoseconds to peer briefly into the universe of another.

"Eyes" or "Dreaming"

Anonymous Comments:
I got my first anonymous comment last night. I was so excited. I had such fun trying to think who may have sent me this mystery of comments. There were clues within it. That helped tremendously. There was also certainly the possibility that it came from a stranger. That possibility was even more exciting.

I enjoy mysteries. Surprises, I'm not so great with.

If you get the impression that I'd like you to send me an anonymous comment, you've got it absolutely correct. Any comment is great but anonymous ones are terrific fun.

p.s.
Some people kind of look at me sideways for the things that I think are fun, like learning how to video conference. That's totally OK. I don't often find much fun in my life.

Beautiful one.
TW came to visit last week. Later I felt the need to write. These are for TW and all the other "Beautifuls" in my life. If you're not quite sure if you're one of them or not, be assured that you are. Watch for more about "the Beautifuls".

This photo is from a couple or twenty years ago. It makes me think about the ocean. The ocean's one of the places I visit in my mind when I really need to escape.

I'd forgotten. Fifteen days ago I'd been at a meeting. Adults were shouting at each other. Adults were yelling at me. I walked out on the meeting. I was supposed to be chairing the meeting. We were to be seeking solutions. Everything seemed to have fallen apart. Though I knew it was not my fault I felt concern over each of the children affected by this disastrous outcome. For my own well being I had to withdraw totally from the situation. Now I was at a very different meeting. There was no shouting. This was near boring compared. The meeting was in Room 101.

Our weather has been wicked the past while. There's been way too much snow, way too much blow and way too much ice - frustrating for all. I'll think about this fantasy.

We just got back from skiing,
Dog and I.
We're tired.

He wants something - what?
Food?
Water?
Okay, we'll get you both.

Off with my ski gear -
I'm back to splayed on the rug.
My thoughts stray.
What would I like to have?
Hmmmm.
A hot fudge sundae
And
A piece of double chocolate cheesecake.

If only the fantasy
Carried through
To taste.

Optimism! What is this?
To fly in the sky
To run in the meadow
To hear my daughter laugh
To see her smile
The words "I love you"
Said with spontaneity
Said with sincerity
Tears of joy or empathy
Bear hugs
Talks
Walks
"Yes I can."
Optimism!

(Sept.15, 1995)

Orange
When I was a child
With diabetes,
I grew to hate
The colour orange.

The sugar in my body
Needed testing.

Orange
Meant sugar,
Too much
Sugar.

And now -
I envision lines,
And lines,
And lines,
In the record book,
Lines of orange.

As a child with Diabetes
What
Went through my mind
About these lines of orange
In the Record Book?

They were always present.
I probably did not even recognize
Any interspersal of beautiful blue,
Or calming green.

Striving
For perfection?
Who
Me?
Striving to erase all those lines,
Of orange,
Which could never
Be erased.
Striving to erase the lines
Of imperfection
Which would be
Forever
Part of me.

Today -
I can truly appreciate
The colour orange.

Now I understand
It represents joy.
I work towards Joy.
I strive for it.
I strive
For more imperfection.
The striving
Is not easy.

Forever will live in me -
Those lines and lines
Of the colour orange.

I want to share - experiences, thoughts, inspirations, frustrations and probably more. I hope you will share along with me.