Tag Archives: believe

Waiting for the Bell to Ring

I wait for no man,

And no man waits for me.

But still in time,

The bell will toll,

And the waiting will begin.

 

Now I sit and ponder,

The direction I must go.

Cuz while I wait for no man,

Time is moving on,

Soon the bell we’ll hear.

 

And so an age has gone,

The time is past and done.

The waiting game is over,

And time begins anew,

Waiting for the toll.

 

As I look back I see,

The waiting that was done,

While patiently remembering,

The virtue that it was.

Honour

A friend made a comment,

She made it to me.

You’re silly you know,

My advice here is free.

 

With joyous abandon,

You live life to the full.

It is said from the heart,

I tell you no bull.

 

With laughter galore,

And a chuckle or two.

You look for the best,

In all around you.

 

Each day with a smile,

You greet every dawn.

With honour a suit,

Each day you put on.

 

Life is a journey,

You share with the best.

Our days may be numbered,

So we’re on a quest.

 

Be kind to each other,

Is the quote for the day.

And live every moment,

As we all join the fray.

A Hook

A simple little hook,

Hangs upon the wall.

There to do its duty,

So, the coats won’t fall.

 

Perhaps it not that simple,

The duty it performs.

Could it be more complicated,

Perhaps a few reforms?

 

What if it’s a symbol,

To show us what we need?

Be support to another,

Could that be our creed?

 

Look upon this simple hook,

As it looks back at you.

Have you done all that you could?

All that you should do?

 

Time upon the earth is short.

But we can leave a mark,

Walk with pride throughout your life,

And be another’s spark.

 

The Stuff of Dreams

At the end of a busy day there is nothing more comforting than to curl up under the covers, head resting gently on a pillow. The muscles relax, the body settles, sleep is nudging at your brain cells… Soon… Soon… Sleep. “To sleep: perchance to dream. Ay, there’s the rub . . .”

Excessive amounts of time and money have been spent trying to explain why and how we actually dream. Sometimes a difficult problem can be solved while we sleep. Sometimes we live in a fantasy. Sometimes we get the knickers scared off us!  And sometimes we either do not dream or we simply cannot remember them. There are times our dreams leave us unsettled, irritated for reasons we do not understand. Have our dreams touched a nerve that we are not aware of? Through our dreams have we touched another? What does our mind do when we are sleeping, when our bodies have no control?

They say that we are at our most restful sleep when we reach REM: Rapid Eye-Movement. We may appear to be comatose but our eyes are moving constantly hence the name. When we are sleeping the deepest is that when our minds are active? When our eyes are closed what does our brain see? What does our mind extrapolate? These are questions I am not sure I want answered.

I love to dream. I think of it as a very inexpensive quick vacation. In University I took a psychology course where they encouraged us to write down our dreams. For years I kept a note pad and a pen near my bed and as soon as I woke up, I wrote down impressions or ideas, thoughts that had come to me in the night and I had been able to retain.  Some were nonsensical but others… Within a few hours the memory of those thoughts had evaporated. When I looked back at my notes, I was often surprised. But I occasionally found solutions to problems I had been cogitating for days. That intrigues me. Does our mind have the ability to work without direction? Are our brains and our minds actually two different entities that work together but have the ability to work separately? There is a scary short story in that… Yes, I have gotten many of my story ideas in the middle of the night, not always when I’m awake.

I find going to sleep is like going into a movie theatre not know what movie I am going to see. I don’t even know what kind of movie it is. I find that exhilarating! Sleep well tonight, you never know who you might meet.  Maybe  I’ll see you there . . .

Percolating

When I was a child, my parents made coffee with a percolator. Water would bubble up and mix with coffee grounds.  In time the combination was ready to drink. I often think of my mind as a percolator. I see words, images or feel things and whatever that small minutia is, it percolates through the miasma that is my mind and low and behold a thought takes form. If I’m lucky that form will become an idea and continue to grow and to develop into something tangible. Sometimes it dies on the vine but the essence of what it was remains to call to me with something else further down the line. Welcome to my world.

With everything that is happening on this planet I think there’s a great deal of percolating going on. Things seem to bubble like a volcano and eventually they erupt. There’s such violence in the world and it always seems to happen in a split second and then I can’t help wondering if the reason, the source of the issue has been percolating below the surface until it explodes. And then we have violence and anger and pain.

Why can’t love, kindness and compassion be what is bubbling beneath the surface?  I know they are there. I know they exist. We see examples of it every single day and yet nobody wants to talk about it. It should be blaring from the headlines “GOOD PEOPLE CARE!”  We have so many mental health issues where people are suffering. Would they suffer any less if they knew how much people cared? I’ve never made any bones about the fact that I am quite naïve. I want to believe in the good, I do believe in the good. But some days it is really difficult.

More and more I am seeing that on social media people are recognizing what needs to be done and stepping up to the plate. People are sharing the goodness that happens around them. I know that it helps me. It tells me not to despair of the human condition. But there are days…

But today is not one of them. It is pouring rain outside; it is cold and gray. But there is sunshine in my world because of the blogs that give me such comfort. I would name them but I follow quite a few.  They make me laugh and they make me cry in all the best ways.  I guess today I just wanted to say thank you to all the wonderful people I read. I am so pleased I have met you. Be well, be safe, be happy. And I’ll see you tomorrow…

 

Image from Amazon.ca

The Empty Chair 

An empty chair beside his bed,

An old man lay alone.

He thought of all that he had done,

And how he could atone.

 

He did not know the words to use,

To speak to God above.

A Priest once said you only need,

To speak your words with love.

 

Place a chair beside your bed,

And Christ will sit with you.

Never fear, He knows your truth,

He knows just what to do.

 

Every night the man did try,

To speak to Him above.

He spoke his truths and his woes,

He spoke it all with love.

 

The chair beside him spoke one night,

And asked if it was time.

“Come with me and be at peace,

Together we will climb.”

 

“To heights untold where angels sing,

My Father waits with pride.

Hold my hand and we will fly,

The world will have to bide.”

 

The sun did rise to greet the day,

And our hero breathed his last.

Content of heart and smiling lips,

He took the hand as asked.

 

 

 

Who’s at the Pub?

 

Our Creator walked into a bar,

He really didn’t have to go far,

With His Ghost at His side,

His Son tried to hide,

Cuz Daddy thinks bourbon’s a star!

 

Our Lord likes a tipple or two,

Anymore just really won’t do.

But the Ghost is a lush,

His songs make me blush,

And Angels think there’s been a coup!

 

I’ll say this for our celestial guest,

He makes us feel we are blessed.

With His heavenly light,

He makes everything right,

And yes, I admit I’m impressed!

 

A lesson is here to be learned:

Respect is something that’s earned.

No matter your stature,

You still bring the rapture,

All you need be is concerned.

 

I will walk down the path I am shown,

And never will I feel alone.

Cuz with God as my guide,

I will always abide,

And reap the best I have sown.

 

 

My Challenge

I opened a book and found a word,

More than one in fact.

It seems I need a challenge,

Which now I will enact.

 

“. . . they constantly rise to the surface,”

Was the sentence that I read.

Whatever will I do with it?

These words I think I dread!

 

It does promote an image,

That rises in my mind.

Challenges that we face each day,

Are hurdles that we find.

 

All it takes is willingness,

An attitude as well.

And we can rise above the fray,

And adversity we can quell.

 

 

 

 

The line is from The Jungle Books by Rudyard Kipling volume two

 

A Message in a Bottle

Have you ever stood at the edge of an ocean, stuffed a heartfelt message into a bottle, corked it and thrown it into the waves? No, I haven’t either.  I wanted to but I didn’t have the courage to throw my words into the great unknown… What if no one answered? How many people have ever found a bottle with a message inside, let alone answered it? Probably not many. But isn’t that what we do now every day on the Internet.

In February 2013 I did just that. I tossed my words into the ether and wondered if anyone would answer. Four people did. Those four people gave me the courage to do it again. As I look back at the faces of the people that gave me ‘likes’ in those days, I’m recognizing familiar faces. Some people have been with me from the very beginning and now I think of them as my Internet Family. All because I had the courage to throw my bottle into the wind.

Every day that we leave our homes we are throwing ourselves on the mercy of the world. And that is terrifying. We have our routines and our safe places where we are comfortable but inevitably someone new or some new activity throws a wrench into our very comfortable existence. And that forces us to adapt, to accommodate and to change. I have always said that I don’t like change. And yet I kinda do. I like to be challenged and that usually involves change. Change for the sake of change is unsustainable but change to adapt or to improve can be exciting.

These past two years have forced us to re-evaluate our lives and the manner in which we live them. It is difficult to say how some good has come from this horrible time but I believe it has. We are learning about ourselves and we are learning about each other. It is my hope, my fervent hope that we will gain understanding from these horrific experiences and grow.

I have learned that I enjoy my hermit mode and that, while comfortable right now, will have to change when we can once again live fully. I think perhaps it is just my way of protecting myself from acknowledging the loss of the outdoors. The loss of restaurants and meeting places. I am sure that I will slide easily back into my old life when it is once more secure to live it. In the meantime, I’m going to continue to enjoy myself inside my safe place!

 

The image is from:  Vecteezy.com

The True Spirit

Mary was angry. Here it was two days before Christmas, she was in a town she didn’t know, a new job she didn’t like, she had no friends and no family close by, and some dirty bum had his hand out looking for money.  And on top of all that, he had the unmitigated gall to be smiling as if he was happy.

Mary wasn’t smiling.  In fact, she was absolutely miserable.  Christmas was just another day on the calendar, it had no real meaning.  People went into stores and spent a ridiculous amount of money on gifts for other people that the other people really didn’t want.  Christmas wasn’t even for the children. It was just another way to teach them about how money makes the world go ‘round.  If you had money, it was a good life.  If you did not then you starved and were miserable, and you should look like you were miserable.

Mary approached the man that she called a bum.  She was frustrated, she was angry, and she needed this person to explain to her how he could be so damn happy! Maybe he was on drugs or maybe he was crazy, but Mary didn’t think so.  Of course, she did drop a twenty-dollar bill into his tin can before she posed her question.

“Are you alright? You are sitting here on a cold sidewalk asking for money.  All around you is obscene wealth.  How can you sit there and smile when you have nothing and so many people around you are spending money like it is water and on frivolous things? You look like you need food and these people are buying toys for people who really don’t want them.  How can you sit there and smile? I’ve seen you everyday for the last week and you smile everyday, you wish people a Merry Christmas, or Happy Hanukkah, or Happy Kwanza and I don’t understand how you can actually be happy.”

At this point Mary was almost in tears.  She felt so alone and so unloved that she felt jealous of this destitute individual.  She wanted to shake him to make him see what an awful place the world was but she didn’t. What she did do was pause for a breath and what she saw then took that breath away.

Just a moment before she had been looking at a dirty bum and now, he had taken on a dignity that belied her original perception.  He sat up straighter and his smile became wider.  Even his eyes seemed to twinkle with a secret knowledge. There was a beauty to his face that she had not noticed before. His voice, when he spoke, was strong and melodic.  The words he spoke were the truth.

“But I have everything.  Someone gave me a coat to keep me warm.  He gave me the gift of warmth. People stop and give me their spare change, a cup of coffee, or a sandwich. A small child gave me a penny.  A penny to a small child is like a million dollars to a billionaire. A beautiful woman gave me her scarf to warm my neck.  An old man gave me a warm pair of gloves.  All I have to offer them in return is my smile and my best wishes.  Some people are embarrassed and hurry on but others take it in the spirit in which it is given. Some people give of themselves, and that is what makes me the wealthiest of people.”

Mary thought about what this person had just said to her.  It was starting to make sense.  The importance of the season was not the gift; it was not the thought of the gift. That was all meaningless.  What was important was the giving of one’s self willingly.

The next day Mary went into work.  She felt a little lighter, a little happier.  She looked around her with a new perspective: people were giving of them selves; the gifts they were giving were simply an extension of their spirit.  Sometimes the gifts were expensive, sometimes the gifts cost only pennies and sometimes it was only a word and a hug.  But these people were giving, Mary saw that now.  And Mary started giving as well.

It was Christmas Eve now and Mary wanted to share with the homeless man what she had learned.  She stopped at the bank and took out one hundred dollars.  She placed the money in an envelope and tucked that into the pocket of her coat.  With a smile on her face, she went looking for the homeless man.

But he wasn’t there. Mary walked up and down the street looking for him.  She asked shop keepers if they had seen him but everyone was too busy and said they didn’t remember.  So, Mary continued on her walk home.  She was sad now that she couldn’t share with the man who had taught her so much.  She wondered where he had gone and what he was doing for Christmas.

Just two blocks before Mary reached her apartment building was a small church.  Mary had seen the structure before but had never ventured in.  Today her feet took her over the threshold and into the church.  She sat quietly in one of the back pews and looked up into the beautiful stained-glass windows.  She felt at peace.  As her eyes wandered over the beautiful paintings, a figure seemed to stand out:   it was of man who was seated on the ground and his hand was outstretched as if beckoning.  Her eyes widened in recognition and then she shook her head, it was not possible.

As Mary turned over in bed that night, she replayed in her head what she had learned and she smiled.  She had left the envelope with the money in the church; she knew it was the right thing to do. Never again would she forget just how valuable it is to interact with other people.  Giving of one’s self is as simple as smiling.  He had taught her that.

 

The end