June 7, 2009- Wilmington Beach, North Carolina

Feet kicked up, sprinkling sand along the small of my back. My water bottle stopped rattling halfway here; the ice cubes melted and now the bottle sweats in the sun with me.

The beach is half full, or half empty. I walked down far enough that the crashing waves have a chance to drown out the screaming children way beyond my left shoulder, as I lay belly down and try to pretend I'm on a beach of solitude.

The green and blue gradient of water that greeted me last Tuesday has been dirtied by weekend tourists and left brown and blue on this Sunday afternoon.

The clouds have smeared above the water a create a shelf upon which more clouds have decided to rest.

I realized on the walk here that our shoes wear us, much like last night's movie captured me and this morning's coffee consumed me as well.

My flip flops will wear me for the summer and dictate my comings and goings like I do my bike's handlebars.

They'll demand painted toes and sandy feet. They'll insist upon aimless walks to absorb more sunshine and then they'll leave lines across my feet when I kick them off, and force me to miss them when I have to trade them for socks.

I hope they'll carry me to many places this summer and re-hydrate the peaceful soul and capture the sweetness I tasted three years ago when I first met serenity.

Learning Life

How many times have we heard it said that we don't know what we have till it's gone? Does that apply to every one, or just those that have never really lost?

I'll speak for myself ( and one other*) and say that I always know what I have, even before I lose it. I know what's beside me, behind me, and, naturally, right in front of me. 

But perhaps this awareness is only instilled in us through our experiences. 

The more I speak of my father, the more I realize how drastically I have been effected by losing him. Literally, every aspect of my life has changed since he's been gone.

Losing a loved one takes us all down a similar path. It's terrifying, painful, emotional, angry, confusing, and so very frustrating. 

But, I think that after the dust starts to settle, and the whirlwind has passed, the path splits in front of us. 

To say to go to the left, is to say you choose grieving, self pity, anger, sadness, and sorrow. 

To go to the right, is to choose understanding, acceptance, peace, love, and compassion for the life that you knew, and the life that you still have to carry on.

I realize that he has shaped an outlook on life for me I couldn't learn from any experience other than the tragic heartbreak of losing him. 

I chose the right path, and I have learned life through death. 

I'll cherish him forever for teaching me more than he ever knew he could. 

Possibility

Too often we decide to predetermine our options without realizing this really only forces us to eliminate possibility.

It is the time we waste weighing out our options, that we unconsciously create these boundaries that limit our scope of possibilities.

Do we walk with our heads down to make sure we don't trip?

Think of everything we'd miss seeing if we did...

Maybe it's time to spend our energy dwelling in the possibility of things, rather than feeling obligated to decide them for ourselves.


Even when it seems there is nothing, the possibility of something always lingers.

Justice

Did you know 911 doesn't come up on your call history?

I walked out of work at 1:05 am, thanks to my darling bar regulars.
There was a woman in a metallic blue hyundai next to me at the light. As soon as we accelerated, I had to swerve into the next lane because she was driving at a 45 degree angle down the highway.

She came to a complete stop before the second green light we approached, and every car flew past, held their horn, and cut me off.

Before we even reached the third light, I dialed 911.

I stayed on the phone and followed her crazy route till three police cars pulled up behind me and took over.

I stopped at the Quick Check for tea, and just as soon as I walked back out, the woman was against her car getting handcuffed.

I don't smile now because I ruined some one's life tonight.

I smile because some one will still have theirs tomorrow.

Happy and Positive

The two words my palm reader used to describe me today; happy and positive.

It felt good to hear, as if I needed the reassurance that I exude the way I feel inside.

I don't think I need to elaborate why I'm smiling right now.
Besides... it's time for Salsa dancing :)

Words to the heart

No work. An afternoon of sunshine and slow-pitch-beer-softball with friends...

Kind of sets the perfect stage to a leisurely Monday. 

I stopped at the grocery after the game and sang with the radio the rest of the way home. 

I parked right in front of my porch and grabbed my grocery bags, but I only made it up one step before I stopped and put my bags back down. 


There was a gerber daisy plant with an envelope that read 'Halley,' in handwriting that brought tears to my eyes before I even held it in my hands. 

A good cry should always end in a smile. 

                                                                              Thank you. 

give a penny... or just take?

I can't remember the last time I saw one, but I know I never really thought twice about them when I did.

Today, this novelty tray reading, " Give a Penny, Take a Penny" seems to be extinct.

I'm not really that bothered by it; but it sure came in handy those rare chances you needed three pennies and the cashier was already counting back ninety seven cents to weigh down your pocket.

But, to step back from mourning the loss of this helpful penny caddy, I can't help but see it as a much larger picture.

Maybe our penny trays went extinct because they were always empty. While it may be unfair to assume, how often did we only notice the tray when we needed those spare pennies, and ignore it the times that we could have given to it.

Givers and takers; whether we like it or not, we tend to be one or the other. A balance is possible, but I think it's our nature to find comfort in one or the other.

It's a harmonious relationship; if there were no takers, who would the givers be giving to?
Yet, it seems to culminate unnecessary projections of needs and wants, on both sides. Givers always want to give more, and it seems to just feed the appetite of takers. Does that make both sides selfish?

There's a satisfaction to both, but is one better than the other? Is one worse than the other?
Can we be a giver and learn to draw our line in the sand where we can stand safely behind and know our limit?
Or will we just be as used up and empty as the penny caddies?

Regardless of the answer, I still feel good giving away my pennies.
It's enough to make you smile to think some one might need those, and they were mine even for just a second.

simplifying

I woke up Saturday morning and showered before breakfast.  It's something I rarely ever do, but my body wouldn't let me sleep in, in spite of my much later-than-usual bedtime. 

I redressed in fresh pajamas, and headed downstairs to start coffee. I opened the fridge for eggs, and realized that I had two left. 

Super. 

I turned off the water I set on the stove, peeled my socks off and slipped my feet into my flip flops, grabbed my keys and my shades, and headed to Wawa. 

I treated myself to a coffee, grabbed a carton of eggs, and an apple for later. 

I insisted I didn't need a plastic bag at check out, balanced my apple on top of my coffee, grabbed my eggs in the other hand and headed out the door. 

Standing in front of my car, I laughed at the struggle I had inflicted upon myself, realizing that with full hands, my keys were tucked away in my sweatshirt pocket. 

I put the eggs on the roof of my car; no good, keys are in my right pocket, and that just freed my left hand. I put my coffee down and tossed the apple into my left hand. Fetched my keys out, opened my door, placed the apple on the passenger seat, then reached up for the eggs and the coffee, one in each hand. 

I started my car and took a second to laugh at myself, as I'm sure anyone was doing that just witnessed the hot potato episode that just took place.  

I was well intentioned; I just wanted to save a plastic bag and it just accidentally resulted in making my simple trip so complicated. 

Regardless, it didn't result in a disaster. I didn't take off with my coffee on the roof of my car, and no eggs were harmed in the process. I made it home with out that plastic bag, and got a cheap smile out of it. 

But sometimes...  I wonder if it would kill me to take the easy way. 

I think it just might. 

Happy Birthday

It was unseasonably warm today, and I didn't have work.
It was the perfect day to celebrate your life.
The ocean was probably 50 degrees, and I plummeted myself into it. Twice.
It made every inch of me feel alive, happy, and lucky.
Thank you for this beautiful day.

Happy 63rd birthday Dad.

Blackbird

I remember having trouble sleeping one night before a hospital day with Dad. Some hours after laying on an air mattress, staring at the ceiling, I tiptoed out to the kitchen for a drink, only to see his door cracked open and the light on.

I remember how happy he looked to see my head peek in the door, as if he had been waiting for my company. He turned down the page of his book, put his glasses on his desk, but kept his ear buds in, ipod rested next to him.

He scooted his back toward the wall and patted the mattress with a grin that I couldn't possibly say no to.

I didn't ask why he was awake. He didn't ask why I couldn't sleep.

Actually, I don't think we said anything at all.

I laid down next to him, with my back to his stomach, and he pulled his right ear bud out of his ear and put it in mine.
He wrapped his arm around me and squeezed me in tight, and kissed the back of my head as if he'd never have the chance to do it again.

I don't know how long it took me to drift off, but the only song I remember hearing was "Blackbird."

It very well may have been the first time I'd ever really listened to the lyrics of that song, or maybe just the first time they really sung to me.

I just remember crying into that pillow thinking I may never get the chance to do this again.

I didn't.

I cry now remembering how small I felt that night, like the little girl I never got the chance to be.
I cry now remembering how safe I felt, right there, and that I'll never get that back.

...I laugh now, because Ob-La-Di, Ob-La-Da just came on my Beatles shuffle, and I guess that's a hint that that's enough crying.

I smile because it's a memory I'll always cherish, and a song that will always sing for him.

 Blackbird singing in the dead of night
Take these broken wings and learn to fly
All your life
You were only waiting for this moment to arise

Black bird singing in the dead of night
Take these sunken eyes and learn to see
all your life
you were only waiting for this moment to be free

Blackbird fly, Blackbird fly
Into the light of the dark black night.

Blackbird fly, Blackbird fly
Into the light of the dark black night.

Blackbird singing in the dead of night
Take these broken wings and learn to fly
All your life
You were only waiting for this moment to arise,
You were only waiting for this moment to arise,
You were only waiting for this moment to arise

Determination

I had a yellow slip in my PO Box, which meant there was a package being held for me behind the counter.

It was a large, soft, white envelope with a return address of The American Cancer Society. I gave the package a squeeze, and realized that along with plenty of paper, there was something forgiving in the envelope.

As I was walking home, I used my keys to cut through all the tape, and pulled out my royal blue jersey standing on the side walk.

In my head, I was squealing with joy, and bursting with pride, but I decided to play it cool and skip down the side walk instead, smile stretched ear to ear.

The back reads, "  It takes determination to endure.
                            It takes DetermiNation to find cures."

I am a DetermiNation athlete, and I don't think I've ever been more proud of anything in my life.

Being Present

Whether you prefer the driver's seat, or the passenger's, you're still not really in control. 

You may like the idea of it; to pretend that we can micro-manage our lives and make all the right decisions, do all the right things, and say it all perfectly. 

Then reality sneaks in, pulls the blanket out from under your picnic, and you realize the controller you'd been gripping so tight, doesn't control this game. Quite simply because it's not a game, but in the grand scheme of things, I think we're ignoring what our role is supposed to be in this life. 

Perhaps by intervening, we change our course, like those time travel clips where a bug was stepped on and some how it changed the entire destiny of some one's life. As melodramatic as that may be, I hope it creates a sense of acceptance that things are the way they should be, whatever that may be. 

When we can learn to accept that we can not change our past, and we resist the temptation to try to control our future, we can come to accept and enjoy being present.  

Turtles

No exaggeration, I must've seen a dozen turtles yesterday on my run. 


They were all lined up on logs across the canal, or cruising through the water in a way that's strangely adorable. 


I'm sure the beautiful weather lured them out of their shells, but I couldn't help but smile every time I saw one. 


Perhaps my mind is an overly analytical one, but I found it as an affirmation to my previous post, that it is in fact time to stop being afraid, and start taking chances. 

The turtles had emerged from their shells; their protective armor that shields them from everything in the world, and they were out exploring and embracing the beautiful day.


So I did just that, and what a perfect day it was. 

Fear or chance

I would love to one day profess that I know no fear. 

Until that day, I have no true shame saying that there are things that make my belly hurt to think about. 

Beyond spiders, sick, and snakes, even worse, I'm talking about that twist in your stomach fear when something in your life is new and unexplored. 

What is there to fear? Are we such creatures of habit that stepping into a new environment, or a new experience is so tormenting because we can not predict the outcome?

Has our sense of adventure been swapped for the desire to just expect ...the expected?

Today, I'm smiling with my fear.

It seems pretty content all knotted up in the pit of my stomach with this lingering uncertainty I can practically smell. But I'm sure the freshness will fade, perhaps the sense of fear will dissipate, but maybe it will ensue. 

Either side of the coin has a chance, so I guess I'll play my odds.  

I don't ever want to miss the chance to take a chance. . . perhaps I'm fearless after all.