This weekend I went to dinner and took advantage of what is left of warm autumn weather and chose to enjoy my meal outdoors. It was lovely, a beautiful table positioned next to a fountain and a pond a quiet ambiance and a duck...a duck? It was so cute, little orange webbed feet, bright blue feathers on its wings. It just waited for me to throw a morsel, a crumb his direction. I gave it a small peice of my garlic toast which it seemed to like. My friend on the otherhand had a more sinister plan, he fed our feathered friend a peice of chicken. OMG, that is just fowl. Ducky seemed to enjoy it though, was that like some form of canabalism? It made us laugh, does that make us just sad? Dining with Ducks...
"Checque please... oh...just put it on his bill"!
Monday, September 21, 2009
Thursday, September 10, 2009
A Human Life is a Story Told By God
A human life is a story told by God. ~Hans Christian Andersen
Much has been written about our human existance by people much wiser and with much more knowledge than me. Tonight I am reflecting on how many try to avoid life with as little pain as possible. They will do most anything to keep themselves safe, protected and cushioned from the emotional obstacles that life can offer. I see them put on their Sunday best every day, clean and pristine and sit on the sidelines to keep unmarked, fresh. I am not judging but only to say I want to live my life dirty, messy, I love rolling in the mud of everything this world has to offer and tomorrow I will wake up and put on another clean appearance only to end the day with stains and grit. Isn't that why we are here? I have to believe that my creator had some plan for my being a part of this all and I have to believe that whatever s/he hopes me to learn or accomplish is going to be more difficult when I am not participating. I love participating, I love feeling, and growing and learning, falling and pulling myself up again. I love shedding the old and recreating the new, I love this life I was given. It is a gift, my human life is a story... it may only be interesting to me but along this journey I have stopped at the intersections with many and they are a story too. We are all a story, some long, some short but I want my story to be a drama, a suspense, a mystery a comedy a tear jerker, I want my story to be something I decided to co-create rather than pages of words that just blindly move along. What will be the story of your life?
Much has been written about our human existance by people much wiser and with much more knowledge than me. Tonight I am reflecting on how many try to avoid life with as little pain as possible. They will do most anything to keep themselves safe, protected and cushioned from the emotional obstacles that life can offer. I see them put on their Sunday best every day, clean and pristine and sit on the sidelines to keep unmarked, fresh. I am not judging but only to say I want to live my life dirty, messy, I love rolling in the mud of everything this world has to offer and tomorrow I will wake up and put on another clean appearance only to end the day with stains and grit. Isn't that why we are here? I have to believe that my creator had some plan for my being a part of this all and I have to believe that whatever s/he hopes me to learn or accomplish is going to be more difficult when I am not participating. I love participating, I love feeling, and growing and learning, falling and pulling myself up again. I love shedding the old and recreating the new, I love this life I was given. It is a gift, my human life is a story... it may only be interesting to me but along this journey I have stopped at the intersections with many and they are a story too. We are all a story, some long, some short but I want my story to be a drama, a suspense, a mystery a comedy a tear jerker, I want my story to be something I decided to co-create rather than pages of words that just blindly move along. What will be the story of your life?
Wednesday, September 9, 2009
A family still lives here
Childhood memories of hot summer days and nights that seemed to go on and on forever. Sitting next to Grandpa, on Dads back, in the rocking chair next to Grandma. Fishing, camping, canning, strawberries, and chocolate covered peanuts. Girl Scout camp, marching band, choir and vacation bible school. Adult memories of soft pastel blankets, smells of baby powder and applesause, tiny sticky fingers. Carving pumpkins, cookies and milk, yellow buses, valentine boxes, tiny white envelopes, candyhearts, construction paper and paste. First jobs, cars, boy/girl friends, test passed and failed smiles and tears, decisions, vocations. Vows and flowers, kisses, dances celebrations and beginnings.
Today, I want to say to the world... hey! A family still lives here. they live in my memories, in my children, my parents, my grandchildren... in potroasts and chili, in concerts and decorated packages, telephone calls, birthday cards, hospital visits weddings and funerals... a family still lives here in my heart! my family still lives here.
Today, I want to say to the world... hey! A family still lives here. they live in my memories, in my children, my parents, my grandchildren... in potroasts and chili, in concerts and decorated packages, telephone calls, birthday cards, hospital visits weddings and funerals... a family still lives here in my heart! my family still lives here.
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