radical ramblings and thoughts of a southern girl
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Posted Nov 30, 2011 08:41 PM
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“Humankind has not woven the web of life. We are but one thread within it. Whatever we do to the web, we do to ourselves. All things are bound together. All things connect.” ― Chief Seattle
Lately, I've wanted to live like a hermit recluse, stranded on my own little island, listening to the sound of waves ebbing, crashing, sitting there, isolated, my own little mind games keeping me entertained. I wonder how long... how long I'd really be content living this way, sleeping in my little dark cave, curled up keeping myself company--I think I'd be pretty damn entertaining---i'm funny even if off color family does not agree----that is until the philosophical games causes a bit of loneliness to settle over the isolation.
It is not my thread to weave, but a loop in a long continuum of life that flows back to the beginning somewhere back in time at a place a part of us has all been to before and that thing through and around it, around all the little pieces, all the while connecting energy flows fusing us together in a thread that weaves a web throughout time, and space.
Threads connected together, twisted around, intermingled and touching for that is how life ought to be lived, connected moving, flowing, jumping even at times in places of importance.
connected what happens to you happens to me
nope... island life might sound nice, but that is not how it works.. for we all us tiny specks us tiny little "whos" living on earth in :whoville: IMPACT EACH OTHER...
pull out a thread my world becomes loose grab too much of it strands break from the inequality....
connected that is what we are even on days we had rather be living on our isolated island.
fellow humans I'll take care of my little piece of the web... I hope you do too...
happy Wednesday and hugs
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Posted Nov 29, 2011 08:06 PM
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“Maybe its like you said before, all of us being cracked open. Like each of us starts out as a watertight vessel. And then things happen - these people leave us, or don’t love us, or don’t get us, or we don’t get them, and we lose and fail and hurt one another. And the vessel starts to crack in places. And I mean, yeah once the vessel cracks open, the end becomes inevitable. Once it starts to rain inside the Osprey, it will never be remodeled. But there is all this time between when the cracks start to open up and when we finally fall apart. And its only that time that we see one another, because we see out of ourselves through our cracks and into others through theirs. When did we see each other face to face? Not until you saw into my cracks and I saw into yours. Before that we were just looking at ideas of each other, like looking at your window shade, but never seeing inside. But once the vessel cracks, the light can get in. The light can get out.”― John Green, Paper Towns
Cracked... < div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"> feeling all split open exposed vulnerable. I don't know why... or perhaps... don't want to admit why...not out loud for the world to hear even though it is easy to see I'm Cracked.
For years I was insulated, covered by extra layers, protective cushioning that kept my heart from breaking open, and suddenly one day in a split second I felt lonely and started to shed the protective coats, started to shed that stuff that kept me at bay and when I did, it happened... there was light, I felt...really felt.. and a tiny prick in my walled up walls, things began to crumble piece by piece and I broke open exposing mefor who I really was--sexy hot and all--no further need to be perfect or smarter or richer.. Me... cracked me... that was enough, is enough, will be enough. Cracked, splattered, split wide open guts all exposed...
I glanced out light flowed in our eyes met... cracked up folks staring into each others "realness"
seeing feeling knowing for the first time.
Cracked---just enough---to finally live.
happy tuesday hugs
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Posted Nov 28, 2011 05:08 AM
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" Look. I know what you believe. It is in my soul. But I constantly tell other people: you should be convinced of the authenticity of what you have, but you also must be humble enough to say that we don't know everything. And since we don't know everything, you must accept that another person may believe something else." Mitch Albom
I continue to search for an answer to something I cannot fathom. Faith.. my old Sunday School Definition always flashes through my mind... Faith is the substance of things hoped for...the evidence of things not seen.....Hebrews 11:1. I don't know where it comes from... who gave it to me... why it haunts me like a ghost that mocks me... I some days wish it would go away, but it faith that is... seems to be embedded in the matrix of the make-up of my bones...
well these old bones feel like they'd like to dry up... I want to scream.. Faith.. "it doesn't work" but as quickly as the thought enters my mind... I know that is the lie I tell myself... something....something deep within myself pinches me and says.. "what are you thinking"
I stare at the picture and what comes to mind is:
"faith...all it has got me is a tear in the heart...much like the leaf above" that thing.. that haunting ghost inside my matrix yells... "don't lie....faith has helped you through the hard time...has saved you from yourself on numerous occasions"... and I know this to be true... it has always been the legs underneath me, the thing I go to when I don't have anything else and yes the ghost is right it has saved me.. more times than anyone will know... sometimes during the dark night of the soul... it wraps me, like a mother wraps and cuddles her beloved child, it enfolds me... like a protective womb, cradles and rocks brings me back to life as the dark veil tries to pull me down...
I try to uncover the Mystery of it all... want to know and understand how it works... what to know the chemical make-up of it's intricate ability to pull me forward... wish it was in a bottle, or part of a plug that could be plugged in at a whims notice....
Faith... it pulls me forward, helps me rise on a cold rainy day, it enfolds me even on days when I say
"faith...forget it" it still shows up faithfully < div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
Hope and Grace they mix with Her... and together... no matter what the day holds... i know somewhere deep inside of me,the three work together to cover the nicks created by others and give me the courage to continue to unfold.. regardless of what others tell me...
You see Faith.. because of it.. I rise.. I rise from the depths of despair, from the dark night of the soul, from the Joy found in the morning... I rise.. and take another step
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Posted Nov 26, 2011 08:28 PM
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Kevin Arnold
I made a visit back to the small Western Kentucky town where I grew up to visit my family of origin yesterday. We drove past rolling hills, dilapidated old barns with their ancient rusted tin roofs falling in, freshly rolled hay balls, cows and thick woods, arriving to a small speck on the planet where one flashing light at the four way intersection flashes as folks enter and exit. While there, I danced around ancient memories, both good and bad, tasted dishes of days long past, smelled the freshness of the air where traffic doesn't flow and heard the reminiscent sound of the train blowing it's whistle as it bustled by on the tracks about dusk. I discovered a yearning inside---to revisit an old familiar place-it called to me from the recesses of somewhere deep inside my aging bones. It's whispers reminded me of lazy childhood days running barefoot, hair blowing in the wind and the smell of dry dirt mixed with sweat of a content child. We drove to the old home place, where my great grandmother lived next door to my parents first home. The house stood empty on a small tract of land in front of the railroad tracks. It seemed tiny compared to the great space the memories of my childhood held. A fire had caused the roof to begin to cave in and the once shiny hardwood floors were covered by a carpet and trash. I could barely contain myself as I walked toward the front. I crossed a bridge over a ditch and pushed my way through briars and weeds and fallen trees until I reached the front step of the porch. It was much shorter than I remembered and as I pushed my foot up the first step, memories of warm days of sitting there flashed through my mind. I could hear my fatma humming a church song in her nasally way and could almost hear the sound of green beans snapping where we sat during the summer evenings talking, laughing and being. I stood at the hearth where I used to lie to keep warm during winter evenings when mom and dad would go out to eat or to church or to visit friends. I would lie there, huddled close and watch the coal burn, hear the crack, watch the blues and yellows mix. The fire always fascinated me in a a mystical spiritual call. The mirror over the hearth still showed my reflection. I opened old closet doors, where treasures used to be hidden and I secretly hoped I'd find an old marble or button or some memento of days gone by. I viewed up at the stairs to the attic where I was never allowed to visit and with a mischievous smile--I felt that kid in me say--go ahead---and the adult tell me--remember the roof has caved in.... I stood in the kitchen where the smell of fatma's cakes would fill there air, the water for her instant coffee would be boiling on the old stove whistling when it warmed. The cabinets once filled with special dishes and plates were still standing but bare. The old sink stood strong, pipes still taped up, little wire rack where she kept her folded aluminum still attached to the bottom cabinet--I felt the urge to steal it. I gazed out the backdoor---as far as I could go safely--out into the back yard now full of trash and overgrown and unkempt brush. Memories rushed so vivid I felt as if I experienced them all over again. I felt as if her spirit graced behind me, felt her brush against my back and then it was time to go. I stood remembering days gone by and returned to today, present and thankful.... thankful for a time so full of love, hope, faith and wonder, thankful for special places in time and for a brief still moment in time to remember.
Happy day to all of you and blessings,
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Posted Nov 25, 2011 05:28 AM
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"Your work is to discover your world and then with all your heart give yourself to it.” < div align="center"> The Buddha
Morning silence... Dark Sky... light breaking dawn... reflection...quiet intuitive thought... calm peace. A time to be.. to breathe.. to Exhale.
Life runs at us.. spins, whirls, topples us, sends us sailing. It fills us, empties us, moves us forward in a progression that feels like we can't control it... the aging process, the economy, the "stuff".
On this morning, I sit. I hear cars rushing by, hitting store after store, spending money they don't have, buying things they don't need. I used to be that... can still be it if I allow myself to get caught in the bustle.
This morning. I sit. be. Think. Breathe.
I am thankful for a bit of silence for quiet solitude on this morning. The bustle will begin soon so for now. I will just breathe.
May you too, find a time to witness the wonder of silence and being on this day. Blessings and Hugs on this Friday morning.
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Posted Nov 24, 2011 06:04 AM
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Gratitude ... goes beyond the "mine" and "thine" and claims the truth that all of life is a pure gift. In the past I always thought of gratitude as a spontaneous response to the awareness of gifts received, but now I realize that gratitude can also be lived as a discipline. The discipline of gratitude is the explicit effort to acknowledge that all I am and have is given to me as a gift of love, a gift to be celebrated with joy. Henri Nouwen
I awoke this morning and prepped myself to get up and cook my thanksgiving dishes--Big Daddy has been in the kitchen cooking and eating now for two days. This morning is my turn to use the kitchen. We learned along time ago in our marriage--that we shouldn't use the kitchen at the same time. We get along better that way. So this morning is my turn.... My heart is heavy this morning and I feel a bit guilty at the abundance found in the "off-color family" home. Not guilty in a bad way, but thankful I suppose I should say... thankful for Big Daddy, off color daughter and off color son... thankful for the sweet potatoes i have baking early in the oven this morning, thankful for the warmth in the house on a cool day, thankful for three cars in the drive way--even for my ghetto van.. thankful for the two income family I am privy too... thankful that my children can go to school--even when they really would rather stay home in bed....many kids in the world are not as blessed. I can't help but feel the depth of the disparity this morning and feel some guilt that I participate this morning as a "have"..... I read the paper... millions are losing their homes right here in what we claim to be the greatest country in the world--- food banks and food pantries find their shelves bare as millions resort to standing in line to feed their children.... the jobless rate is at an all time high.... I feel the burden of the world this morning... think of those mothers and fathers who can't provide the abundance for their children this morning... think of folks in homeless shelters, sleeping under bridges, sleeping in cars and vans and tiny little campers---sometimes raising their families in tents on the outskirts of town...
The harvest... Is it Plentiful? Are the laborers few?---don't think so....the jobs are few as we've sent our work to someplace cheaper where child labor is supported---for some reason we run on the idea of wealth instead of heart these days...
The world is heavy today... and in the midst of the heaviness I breath out, look in the kitchen and there stands big daddy in his valentines underwear bent over the dishwasher, in his house slippers looking sexy as he is unloading the dishes... and I smile... Cecil the Devil Dog from the Gates of Hell is standing watch waiting for Big Daddy to drop a scrap.... the off color kids are cuddled in their own rooms in their own beds warm and fed.... the light shines.. and I am so thankful for this moment in time... when I celebrate my blessings..
The question I ask myself is--- what can I do to change the world-- to decrease the disparity between my kids and my neighbors, how do we celebrate diversity and love and abundance in a world where war continues, people starve, children watch fast food commercials and go to bed hungry...
heavy questions on a day of celebration... The harvest---it is not plentiful...
so what are we gonna do about it?
Happy thanksgiving hugs and blessings.. i gotta go...got cooking to do.... tomorrow will visit my family of origin and celebrate once again... I am blessed.
Count your blessings...big and small...
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Posted Nov 22, 2011 04:46 AM
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"We plunged into the cornucopia quivering with desire and the ecstasy of unbridled avarice."- Ralphie in A Christmas Story
This morning I stepped out into the haze of early morning fog, and I stood... feeling the coolness of the gentle breeze blowing, dew dropping off of grass landing on my toes in a surprise the awoke me from my trance. In the distant, I heard the sound of a train blowing its' whistle and the rumble of its' early morning travels. It had been years...I mean years, since I heard the sound of the train whistle. It took me back to days of my childhood when train tracks ran directly behind our home. I remember laying in bed on sticky summer nights, window open and being startled by the sudden loud whistle. It would always scare me a bit.....you see as a child we went to one of those holy roller charismatic kind of churches that talked of fire and brimstone, the gates of hell and the rapture. I swear every night I heard that train whistle, I was sure, that it was Gabriel blowing his trumpet and I held my eyes shut---scared to look over and make sure my sister was still there---afraid I'd find out that one of those evil thoughts I'd had about her or my brother was going to cause me to miss the proverbial "rapture". This morning, I found myself reminiscing about those days and I caught myself smiling at the thought of how the trains of my childhood were connected to the box of faith in which I was given. I looked to the sky... huge universe, galaxy far beyond what my naked eye could see, and I stood stood at the pivotal bottom of my cornucopia of life felt the richness and abundance of my life and caught myself smile. Drops of the freshly fallen rain glistened under hazy sky that looked like the shimmer of ice on a bright sunny morning. Just as quickly as I stood silent in the Universe worshipping the wonder of Creation, I came back to earth... back to the bottom of my cornucopia... and I whispered a silent :thank you:
for I am blessed.
I came inside dove back into the wonder of my own abundance, sat on the couch, and thought of how often we like Ralphie in the Christmas story do just that we plunge into our blessings quivering with desire with that same greed, that same craving for more, we want it all and then some..
On this morning... I stood under canopy of hazy hope, was brushed by God's love dew, felt the embrace of wonder and understood for the fragment of a moment I---small tiny speck--- am surrounded by a cornucopia of wonder..
home, food, off color family friends, work love laughter happiness on most days and most thankful for that thing.. that thing called Joy..
for today.. I dove into the cornucopia and encountered JOY and it was good!
blessings to you on this morning hugs and grace..
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Posted Nov 20, 2011 03:10 AM
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Eucharisteo< span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; -webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: white; color: #7a7a7a; display: inline !important; float: none; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font: 14px/21px Georgia, Times, serif; letter-spacing: normal; orphans: 2; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; widows: 2; word-spacing: 0px;">–Greek. yoo-khar-is-teh’-o. Verb. Definition: 1.To be grateful, to feel thankful. 2. Give thanksI was privileged to sleep until 7:30 am, which rarely ever happens anymore. My usual time for arising in the morning typically is 04:00 which gives me an hour of quiet time, forty-five minutes for cardio at the gym and time for showering before I begin my day at the place where i earn my living at 7:15ish. I was thankful for the extra hours of rest on a drizzly Sunday morning. When I opened the door, the call to worship began. Birds in a distance sang a song I had not heard before and other sounds of the living mixed in with their hymn of adoration. I felt myself smile at the wonder of the sanctuary already at work. I've been thinking alot about the season. The season of living in the state of thanksgiving and what it means to be thankful for what I have---health, food, home, family, friends, work.....so much but yet so many times I find myself grumpy and going through the motions rather than actually absorbing the wonder of my own life. I'm trying to do better and it was just this week that I learned about the word listed above----Eucharisteo. Is such a state of living possible?
I've been thinking alot today about the disparity between the haves and the have nots..... Yesterday---off color daughter and I did something I've never done before---we spent the afternoon visiting and shopping at local Goodwill's. I have a bit of OCD and going into such a place requires alot of energy from me. I'd been reading alot of blogs lately that talked about all these refurbishing ideas....also since I've lost weight...the "girls" at my place of employment keep telling me I need new scrubs--I didn't want to invest in new ones because i hope to lose a bit more weight, so I thought the "Goodwill" just might do. Off Color daughter bought several sweaters and a couple of shirts to appease her eclectic taste (one was for what she calls==tacky sweater day==it is bright pink with all kinds of glittery sequins all over in a "beautiful" design---we had laughed about it but when we were checking out an older woman said, "oh that's a beautiful sweater." My eyes just about popped out of my head and off color daughter and I had a great laugh on the way to the car.) I did find several new pairs of scrubs at the tune of $5/set which was quite the savings. Once we were home--I immediately put everything in the washing machine on hot in case there were any germs or worse we'd carried into our home. Two pair of my scrub pants turned out to be too small---Can you believe it? The Goodwill takes returns---but be sure to keep your receipt. I can't believe I actually bought something from Goodwill--better yet returned something. Exposure therapy for OCD must work---touch her face, touch her eyes---(lines taken from the OCD project). I watch people alot. There were people who seemed to follow us from one Goodwill to the next. I listened to them---some were buying things to paint and decorate their home with and others were buying clothes for friends... there were people buying furniture and several different languages going on all at the same time.....quite the cultural experience.
On the way home from one of the last Goodwill's we visited, i glanced out the corner of my eye. Standing on the corner of the intersection stood a woman about my age. She was dressed in sweatshirt and jeans and was holding a sign...."Please help me have a happy holiday for my children". She was drinking a coke from McDonald's, standing there facing the traffic. I felt the skeptic in me pop out---and though I usually am a fighter for the underdog---I felt myself question what the purpose of the woman standing there really was about.....was she just scamming money or was she really a woman willing to do whatever she needed to do to help her children have a good holiday season. I was in the turning lane and passed her just as quickly as I saw her. Later last night, I woke up and was reading a blog from a feminist theology site. The minister writing the blog talked about the time she saw a homeless woman on the side of the road holding a sign. I started thinking about the woman standing in front of the RED ROBIN with her sign. She haunted me. I wondered about her story and about the journey that brought her there at that moment on that corner of the street. i wondered about her family, her children, her life. I wished we were in a world where the disparity between the haves and havenots did not exist---but it does and I felt myself offer a prayer of hope to the Universe on behalf of the woman who caught my eye.
This morning following my call to worship, I went to the gym, which has recently become my place for worshipping on Sunday morning. This morning, while on the elliptical I listened to several podcasts. Today, I listened to preacher, Susan Sparks, from Madison Avenue Baptist Church in New York. Susan is a liberal, educated, ex-lawyer, stand up comedian who delivers a sermon like none I've heard. Today, in one of her sermons, she spoke of visiting Union Square farmer's market. She said, "There was the smell of fresh bread from a local bakery drifting through the air. I followed the smell....It led me to a table covered in loaves of bread, cakes and danish....I stood there and I watched....watched people pass, when suddenly I saw a homeless gentleman pushing his shopping cart. He stopped in front of the table and stood for a moment. Next thing I knew, I saw a clerk behind the table, get a large brown bag and fill it up with all kinds of items. He then moved around the table and approached the homeless man and handed him the bag. The homeless man nodded and took the bag and disappeared into the lively crowd and I stood there saying to myself----i just saw an angel on the corner." (paraphrased from my memory).
Eucharisteo----what does living in this state look like? Does a woman worrying about her family's next meal, experience it? Does a homeless man understand it? Can those of us privileged learn to live into it? Can we give up a bit of it---a bit of the wealth---to even the playing field-- can we share so that all can experience life in a better way?
I don't have the answers... to the hard questions of the Universe.. but on this rainy Sunday evening... I send a prayer into the Galaxy on behalf of mothers and fathers who struggle to feed their children, for those with no roof over their head, for those with no bread to eat....
and as I do... it reminds me.. to offer a prayer of thanksgiving for a day filled with unsettling reflection on the disparity in the world for food for a warm shower for goodwill experiences with off color daughter and new freshly washed used scrubs.
May all of you reading tonight, take a moment to find and experience a bit of that new word I learned... Eucharisteo....
and live in a state of Thanksgiving.... blessings and hugs...
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Posted Nov 17, 2011 07:08 PM
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Celebrate endings - for they precede new beginnings. - Jonathan Lockwood Huiei am still learning... learning the process of "celebration". I have lived my life going from one project to another, climbing one ladder rung to the next and there have been very few times, that I have actually taken the time to stop and throw some confetti, dance a jig, wave some balloons sing the song Celebration time...come on....
Celebrations make me uncomfortable and for someone that likes to live in the positive flow of life, I find that a bit unsettling, there is an awkwardness about letting go, saying....look what i did.....kind of living.
I had some rather dramatic endings in my story this week... I'm still feeling the ripple effect on my heart from it. I surrendered a very important aspect of my life this week and dammit I don't feel like celebrating much at all in fact If I'm honest.... my heart weeps... weeps for what I could not do weeps for what the Mystery and I could not accomplish together. I finally said I give up I can't do this anymore don't want to do this anymore.... I finally....after years of discerning... left the church ...sent a letter asking that I no longer be part of something I spent the last ten years spinning my wheels trying to be part of....left the process of ordination.... left a piece of what I know I've been called to do...
there is an emptiness... and if I'm honest I suppose it has been there for sometime... a disconnect.... my heart weeps... and yet...
in a sense... if I believe what I say... The Creative Mystery is still at work on my behalf and if I lean into that... well.. I suppose, I need to take a deep breath, blow up a balloon or two--- I mean it is Friday after all... and lean my whole being sadness and all into the possibility of new tomorrows....
Are Endings New Beginnings....
I sure hope so...
Happy Friday go out and celebrate....
blessings and hugs.
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Posted Nov 16, 2011 07:05 PM
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“Jehovah's Witness are welcomed into my home...You gotta respect anybody who gets all dressed up in Sunday clothes and goes door-to-door on days so hot their high heels sink a half-inch into the pavement. The trick is to do all the talking yourself. Pretty soon, they'll look at their watches and say, 'Speaking of end times, wouldja look at what time it is now!”
― Celia Rivenbark, Bless Your Heart, Tramp: And Other Southern Endearments
In the south, we pride ourselves on our Southern Hospitality. When people show up at our door, it is common to invite them in, offer them a cold drink or something to eat--we Southerners enjoy good eating. However, in the south if you see a group of people walking down the street with little pamphlets in their hands....well you can bet your ass it is either a group of Jehovah's witness folks out recruiting new members to their church or else, if there are two young men dressed in black trench coats and ties on a sweltering summer day, pushing a bike---well those are the Mormon Missionaries living out their faith. You have to admire them, they don't wait until you arrive at the church to offer you a bit of their interpretation of the good news of the gospel. I've been guilty of it and I'm sure others would have to raise their hands as well.....but there are times, I choose not to answer the door if I peep out the window and see a band of what looks like traveling missionaries camped out on my front porch. Every so often, though, be it the 'devil's advocate in me or on a day I really need to talk to an adult, but every once in a while---I answer the door and I do my best to listen and then engage with these folks who must have great faith.....I mean I typically don't go door to door delivering works of the Gospel--so I figure if someone is that passionate about their faith, the "Christian" thing to do is listen or at least take a pamphlet. A couple of summers ago, I was home alone. It was a hot sweltering summer day....one of those "hotter than Satan sex" kind of days, and the door bell rang. I was running around the house in my wife beater white t-shirt and a pair of sexy hot bloomers. I ignored the door bell on the first ring. It kept on ringing....finally I went to the window on the second floor of our house, opened it up and yelled down at a group of about five people standing on my front porch. "Hey what do y'all need?" They looked up and said, "we'd like to give you this pamphlet about our church and talk to you a bit about faith." I yell back...."Well, I'm not dressed this morning. You can leave the pamphlets in the door and I'll read them. If y'all want to come back sometime, I'd be happy to do some theological talking---there is nothing I enjoy more.....Y'all come back now...y' hear." They leave and I proceed with my usual business of the day. A couple of days pass and then one day without warning.... the doorbell starts a ringing...... I answer.... "they were back....bible in hand and pamphlets galore" It is another hot day and sweat is running down one man's head in little dripping droplets." I smile and without hesitating, I said, "hey Y'all are back, why don't you go around to the back yard where we can sit down---I didn't want to invite them in my house----cause I wanted to be in charge of the time--- I'll be right out.
I go to the fridge, pull out some cold bottled water and head down for some good theological discussion. I'm a bit excited and can feel my brain beginning to race. We started off sharing a bit and I listened. Once I started talking about panentheism (look it up if you don't know this word) and my understanding of the Mystery of faith, well let's just say, they looked kinda like a group of missionaries who had suddenly been invaded by a hungry troop of army ants... before too long... really only about five minutes... the older man in the bunch kindly thanks me for the water and the seat but.... "they had to be going".
I invited them back anytime... I love a good discussion a good theological wrestling match I love breaking a crack into a nicely formed box to let the Mystery of God move into and out of the cracks.
Needless to say... The Jehovah's witness's have not been back to my welcoming abode.... The Pentecostal looking Baptists have come with their strong men in black suites and women with hair do's piled high like a beehive. They didn't stay very long either... once I prayed for them and offered them a blessing on the front steps....
i love a good discussion, enjoy a bit of company, love being from the South, so if your into missionary work... come on by and share your story...
As a good southerner... I'll try not to run you off with my questioning mind and I promise to offer you a cool drink of water or diet Pepsi and a place to sit--- it might be outside but it will be in the shade.
So there you have it... the day I ran off the Jehovah's Witness crew...
I hope you have a wonderful night and a fabulous day.
blessings and hugs....
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Posted Nov 15, 2011 08:41 PM
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You unlock this door with the key of imagination. Beyond it is another dimension - a dimension of sound, a dimension of sight, a dimension of mind. You're moving into a land of both shadow and substance, of things and ideas. You've just crossed over into the Twilight Zone. season 4 and 5 opening narration of Twilight Zone
For the longest time, I have carried the weight of others on my shoulders, felt their pain pressing against my heart, Their expectations, perceptions, good ole boy and good ole gal roles and games and I waited and I wondered and I tried to carry it all play their game, mold myself to the imprint of their design.
After awhile, i felt the beast of the burden the burden of not belonging, not being a full fledged "something" used up messed up, spiritually bankrupt and broken that is what their weight did for me .... I kept waiting... day after day year after year to get their phone call, feel their embrace be anointed by their hands....it never came unless.... convienence brought the call.
The weight was too heavy, my free spirit tired of the binding effects of fitting in, holding back, tired of the blank stares, the unanswered prayers, tired of hurt, pain, tears.... just plain tired of a broken heart.
then one day... The weight was too much, self was worth more and I picked the lock slid it off and dropped the chains that bound me
suddenly as the weight of their binding was let go... I moved into another dimension a dimension of sight, of sound of mind and crossed into the twilight zone where The Mystery rose to greet me, laughed and danced and said "good to see YOU" and I could breath
for finally I was free... free to be me... and that was, is, will be ENOUGH
HAPPY TUESDAY HUGS AND BLESSINGS
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Posted Nov 14, 2011 05:13 AM
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Is this your last best chance? Or are you going to your grave with unlived lives in your veins? said by Justine played by Jennifer Aniston in The Good Girl 2002
Life it pulses through us moves through channel like passageways, distributes nutrients, collects waste, energizes chemicals to jumps synapses empowers us to move, speak, see, hear, be...
It pulses on the cusp of each new day... life that is... rushes up to us through the vein of our own existence from where that comes I don't know except from somewhere back at eternal spring of life where it all starts bubbles and pulses and moves and flows past centuries and years, months, weeks, days. It moves through us encouraging us to share our gifts, be the goodness, change the world in a small or large way...pulses in a steady heart beat.....
There is something unique... moving, flowing, ebbing if you willinside each of us, in our life vein. It wants to get out, be free.. free to mix with other goodness, free to catalyze love and hope and faith....
The choice is ours... we can keep all that flows... bottled up, penned up, encapsulated inside us... take it with us to our grave send it back to the eternal spring....
or we can choose, to open ourselves to the world, allow all that flows inside out.. out to mix and bounce and swirl and somehow someway change the world a bit at at time in ways we can't even see.
On this day... I choose to acknowledge that something pulses through me... I don't understand it, it flows through my veins from somewhere... somewhere I name there... it wants to get out... I don't want to take it to my grave.... for that is how we change the world... one pulse, one vein of existence at a time...so today...I will let it pulse out.....
blessings to you this Monday Morning.. and Hugs.. have a great day.. or Be a great day...the choice is yours.
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Posted Nov 13, 2011 08:26 AM
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 Warren Schmidt: I know we are all pretty small in the big scheme of things, and I suppose the most you can hope for is to make some kind of difference, but what kind of difference have I made? What in the world is better because of me? from the movie: About Schmidt 2002
Last night, Big Daddy decided he would give me a break from all day/ all night football and invited me to watch a movie with him. We perused Netflicks and finally settled upon an older movie starring Jack Nicholson who is one of my favorite actors. In the movie, Schmidt is an insurance man whose life suddenly changes after retirement. The movie takes us on a journey as Jack transitions through what was into what will be...all the while watching a small relationship form between a child Nudugo who he is sponsoring in a Feed the World project. Turns out I'd seen part of the movie at some point and before it ended...I fell asleep on the couch with Big Daddy. I woke up right at the ending when Jack was struggling with what his life was really about.... It ended with Jack wrestling with the questions underneath the picture:
Warren Schmidt: I know we are all pretty small in the big scheme of things, and I suppose the most you can hope for is to make some kind of difference, but what kind of difference have I made? What in the world is better because of me?
It is what we all wonder, isn't it? Does our life matter? Do we really have the ability to impact the greater world, to even change the world for one tiny person? Can we?
I want to believe we can...to believe that everything we do somehow in someway sends out mystical energy into the universe in ripples and ebbs throughout the world---postive electrons that impact the world in a positive fashion. I want to believe that my smiles to strangers---make a difference in their day. I want to believe that those people who are lost and I notice---eases their distress just for the moment. I want to believe that my life..............that my life really matters.
Isn't that what we all want? or is this just a passion that I was born with rooted deep in the cellular structure of my DNA?
I once thought that I might change the world through avenues of ministry in the church----and I worked really hard at it for a really long time......and now I realize.....ministry is bigger than the church.....bigger than the walls and steeple and people who dress up and go there on Sunday..........Ministry.............fo r me anyway is now more about presence......it is looking at people in the eye...listening...really listening to the tone in their voice, the quiver, the shake of tears or seeing water pool in the corners of their eyes. I stand back...I watch...
everywhere I see pain....hurt...struggle....but yet in the midst of the pain, I hear laughter, see joy, experience celebrations.....................Life.. ..Life is weird............it takes you on journeys and adventures that we sometimes plan and sometimes happenstance or providence moves us down a whole new pathways where grace rises to grab us and faith pulls along toward hope...................and all the while the questions continue to flash in my mind and i wonder...
Do we make a difference? Does our life really matter? Can we impact the world?
On this Sunday morning, in this sacred moment of the day when i sit and reflect, I wonder has my life really made a difference and all I can say is: I hope so... for without the difference life is meaningless.
Have a sacred Sunday... and let me know.... What in the world is better because of you? I'd love to hear what you think.
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Posted Nov 11, 2011 05:31 AM
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There is this little song I wrote
I hope you learn it note for note
Like good little children
Don't worry, be happy
Listen to what I say
In your life expect some trouble
But when you worry
You make it double
Don't worry, be happy......
Don't worry don't do it, be happy
Put a smile on your face
Don't bring everybody down like this
Don't worry, it will soon past
Whatever it is
Don't worry, be happy Bobby McFerrin
Once again....Big Daddy makes my post......as you know...you never know what will happen next with him. Several weeks ago, we were sitting on the couch with off color daughter and she started wanting to do some pedicures for her parents----let's just say---I don't have a smiley face painted on my big toe, because when I looked--she'd pretty much removed most of my big toe nail while I was reading and she was clipping. Big Daddy on the other hand..... let's just say, I've been sleeping and flirting with a man who has been walking around for a month or more with a smiley face painted in blue over a bright red toe nail... Big Daddy is comfortable in his skin and with his painted toes. I couldn't resist taking this picture the other day as I walked by him sitting in his reclining spot. I did overhear Big daddy asking off color daughter to remove the polish a couple of days ago--but evidently she was going to charge him too much to do the task.... so he's been walking around now for a month or so with toenails that look like........well you can see.
Big Daddy lives withe the Bobby McFerrin attitude...he's helped me live into it more and more as I've experienced the "off color antics" of Big Daddy and off color daughter. Off color son and i are the more reserved in the group. I was just wondering... Do any of you blog readers also find yourself sleeping with a man who has toenails as gorgeous as Big Daddy.... if nothing else, when I look down, I have to smile and think to myself... :Don't Worry: :Be Happy: Even if it is .............Big Daddy Style. Have a Happy Friday and be sure to send me pics of any of you who choose to follow Big Daddy's Fashion Sense... I wish you all could have seen the glory of the full effects before half the smily had grown off his toe...
don't worry.. be happy it's Friday. hugs...
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Posted Nov 9, 2011 09:03 PM
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Let's choose today to quench our thirst for the "good life" we thinks others lead by acknowledging the good that already exists in our lives.
My soul thirsts, for something I once knew.. a cool wetness, a refreshing awakening. i walk along, I feel the sandpaper like feel deep inside my heart chambers.. I remember the quenching drops I knew in my mother's wombalways supplying all that I needed cushioning my developing body fromharm. < /em> I floated there in the midst of that love pool,< /div> and onced birthed, immediately.... Thirst...thirst for that which I once knew.< /div>
I longed for it...< /div> still long for it...< /div> search and try to fill it with all kinds of things.... nothing works..
The sun of life,< /div> burns me,scorches me,I feel as if I might dry up and die... I hide my face from the rays,< /div> I feel my phyche begin to wither, I cry out... out to the Universe... someone, something, anything, are you there? I'm thirsty... thirsty for creative flow.< /div> I wither more,< /div> and surrender... surrender to the liquidy God of the Universe... and suddenly without rhyme or reason, in the middle of nightfall, I feel the midst settle over the surface of my soulreviving my spirits tiny drops of love dew microscopic specks of coolness. Life continues...< /span> my spirit perks upi absorb the coolness feel my roots begin to seek down,< /div> my leaves begin to spread, and that dry parched feeling... it begins to fade in a way i cannot explain because I really don't understand it.
Spiritual water< /div> It comes in all forms and fashions, rain and sunshine, smiles and tears, in a look,< /div> or a glimmer into someone else... .
I was thirsty, wilting, about to give up...< /div>
and the Mystery she came... sprinkling me with the wet dust of new beginnings reviving my soul from what I assumed would be certain death.
On this evening... I am thankful for smiles, hugs, warm food,< /div> the sound of rain on the roof,< /div> being able to watch the wonder of the wind twirl< /div> the branches in a sacred symphony of harmony.
I was thirsty....
but now...< /span> now...< /span> I have been restored.
May you tooexperience the midst of love dewand find your spirit renewed.
blessings and hugs.< /div>
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Posted Nov 8, 2011 05:36 PM
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"No matter what looms ahead, if you can eat today, enjoy the sunlight today, mix good cheer with friends today, enjoy it and bless God for it. Do not look back on happiness -- or dream of it in the future. You are only sure of today; do not let yourself be cheated out of it. " Henry Ward Beecher Today, I realized that I'm not twenty anymore. Dammit it sucks! After a wonderful weekend hiking with Big Daddy and enjoying a weekend of solitude, we returned to our normal routine. I took one extra vacation day to recoup, do laundry and at least vacuum up the dog triplets hair that had accumulated while we were away. I promise you that what we got up was enough to knit a black and white hounds tooth doggie coat big enough to clothe a Rottweiler or really fat greyhound. After doing a few loads of laundry and going to the grocery, I went for a workout with my trainer---it was back day, which was good because I was aching a bit from the hiking we'd done--so I found gratitude that I would not have to be doing lunges. It started off good but then suddenly, that pull I'd been having in my shoulder, shot down to my back and it took my breath. I don't like complaining or being a weenie---well very often that is-I'm so competitive that I try to lift more and more each time--cause I think I'm young in my sexy hot body and want bragging rights about how much I can lift--even if I'm just bragging to myself and off color son. I finished my workout without much whining and headed home. I then started messing with the TV and blue ray and got everything out of wack. I had to unplug everything and then start from scratch.......long story short......when I tried to get up...pain made me say a few choice words that I did not learn in seminary or church. The tightness got worse and by nighttime.....this sexy hot mama was walking like an eighty year old woman----and when I sat down.... oh my! I slept sitting on the couch last night and then had to take a sick day today from work due to my pain. The doctor has given me a muscle relaxer and told me to stay away from the gym until after the weekend. I may drive my family crazy---I get what off color daughter calls---"the crazy's"---when I don't get to have my daily workout. This means I'm irritable and more apt to seem like I've not had my crazy meds for the day. I am sitting on the couch wishing I was back hiking in the quiet solitude and beauty of the mountains or sitting by the rolling steam listening to the crackle of the fire that Big Daddy built. I'm beginning to feel the muscle relaxers taking over and I'm already starting to dread heading back to work tomorrow...dreading getting back in the same ole routine. Earlier today, I was trying to get caught up on all my blog reading and an old seminary friend updated her blog about the time I started. She is really funny and full of southern humor. Today's post especially touched me...made me laugh....made me think... think about life and my off color children and about how I'm alot like her little girl throwing a fit in the back seat---stuck between the there of the recent vacation and the here of getting home. Erin goes on to say we spend alot of time......in between....in between here and there. She is right. I wonder if perhaps...just perhaps....it is in this transitional time that we are best able to hunker down and let our roots rest, drink some spiritual water and grow. The present offers the gift of gaining wisdom from the past, of learning from our mistakes and the wonder of finally realizing that what we thought was going to kill us---didn't---it teaches us about the wonder of grace. In the same tension, the present lets us dream, wonder, analyze and live an imaginary future. The present is often our reality check. It makes us thankful and when we can stay in it...the present that is...we are able to find a bit of gratitude in whatever comes along---even a pulled muscle at the gym----two years ago, I would not have fit in my sexy hot bikers spandex and I'm sure I would not have even been able to move the weight at all. I've come along way--bad back and all. I don't like much where I'm at today. I'm having an internal tantrum and Cecil the devil dog from the gates of hell is sitting on his butt begging and barking---I don't have a clue what he wants but I wish he'd stop. My back is tight, my head...my head is getting woozy...and I'm here....here in this moment........stuck between past and future... and even with a bad back----------I'm thankful for this moment of reflection... thankful for doctors and muscle relaxers, thankful for the tree I've been watching down by the Kroger-- turn from orange to the brilliant red of a burning bush.....every time I see it....it reminds me to seek and look for the holy in the ordinary routine of life..... Here between past and future... is a good place, a holy place, a growing place. Here--that's where I am---and it "ain't" too bad. Go on over and read Erin's post...she's hilarious, a bit off color herself in a southern kind of way and very theologically reflective. Let her know what you think by leaving a comment or two...... blessings and hugs to all of you........ happy Monday!!! oops...I mean Tuesday!
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