A pause...

Pauses in most everything leave time to see or feel what is really real. I found this to be a perfect example.

Why Must I Compare?

Everyday, yes, every day, if I took a phone call with a voice asking me if I am a lucky, blessed and fortunate person, I would without hesitation reply 'yes'.   I would end the call and promptly proceed to carry on thru that everyday day blind to the precise people and circumstances constituting my previously declared status.  I scan CNN, HLN, Yahoo reports for world conditions and now read warnings of impending oil on beloved white beaches, as well as on wildlife whose only possible infraction against BP oil was to poop during a fly-over.   For the past three days, the Nashville area has been under siege by the same Mother Nature who brings us glorious sunsets, harvest moons and roses of an indescribable color.  Too much of a good thing is not, in this case, a wonderful thing and can only be compared to the insufferable absence of hydration.  So, for today, this is really real - I am a darn lucky, blessed beyond merit, fortunate with every tick of the clock woman and most days I do not live like one.  But I want to.

Take Me Home

Genes, in addition to jeans, are interesting things.  Certainly, I ordered ten toes, one nose, a snappy personality and the usual equipment, but never thought to check the 'red hair the color of pure copper', 'one eye just a little bit different shade of ocean than the other', 'quirky and confident taste in clothes', not to mention 'stellar and breathtaking use of body for dancing of all sorts' and 'enviable ability to speak foreign languages, even those she has not learned' boxes.  I have my very favorite daughter to thank for many things, including the cessation of my long-held practice of sun broiling my body.  So, for today, this is really real - the unit of measurement has yet to be created for the love a parent holds for a child.  Had it been, I would have broken and set the record on May 28, 1985.  I love you, Celia Rose.

Yes, I Could Do What You Want; No, I Won't.

Yes.  Only one more letter than No.  But with that one letter-space difference comes a relinquishment, real or implied, of the right to use the small word in a reply to requests, in todo.  Recently, while enjoying both the sport and stories of the Winter Olympics, I thought just how many times the athletes must have said "no" to requests for their time as they kept their focus on the quest. Undoubtedly, there were times of conflicting emotion, and that is where our similarities end.  The conflict between Yes and No is woven through life and becomes, for me, the basis of determining the degree of conflict or calm.  So, for today, this is really real - I will say Yes to you when I have concluded that I can be the best me once I have, and I say Yes to me to resist pressure, threat, shame and even reward.  For No to you (this time) is Yes to me.  

Kidney Friends

The temptation to attach a quote to this post came quickly, and left at the same speed.  I am one who relishes words, especially when they find partners on the left and right that join perfectly to express my wordless feelings.  The number of quotes associated with friends, and friendships, surely hovers in the thousands.  But none of the authors have met my friends.  If they had, they would have thrown their hands up in the air, broken their pencils (or tossed their MacBooks), and moved on to another subject - pets or mother-in-laws, maybe, because there is no word sublime enough for my peeps. So, for today, this is really real - I, like many of you, have sublime friends....those who know me and love me anyway.  Darn it, that's on a plaque at Cracker Barrel, isn't it?

A Matter of Opinion

I must admit that I am easily distracted - often by people, sounds, aromas, or even shiny objects.  When I am fortunate enough to travel, I often risk overlooking places or scenes of historical significance due to my tendency to focus on activity or notations that hover somewhere near my line of sight.  Bless the hearts of those whose patience has been tried by my lagging behind or veering off-path.  Hopefully, an image I've captured along the way speaks to them.  So, for today, this is really real - To those of you speaking through imagery - I am listening and I thank you.

Everyday is Thanksgiving. Sometimes I just forget.

The first time I met Fred, he sang this song in the dark, sitting on the floor of a friend's beach house.  I didn't think anyone in the room had heard it before, judging by the silence when he finished.  But now I know that's exactly the predictable response to every listening.  So, for today, this is really real - "...when I'm with 'em, it's like Thanksgiving..."    And I darn well better act like it.