Tag Archives: inspirational

I’m Feeling Wonderful

I’m feeling wonderful,

And I don’t know why!

I’m on top of the world,

And there’s rain in the sky!

 

The sun shines around me,

Tho’ the clouds up above.

There’s a smile on my face,

And I’m thinking thereof.

 

I don’t understand,

The happiness I feel.

I frankly don’t care,

I hope that it’s real.

 

The feelings I feel,

Are only for me.

Others may have them,

Just now let me be.

 

This day like the others,

When I’m feeling this good,

I’ll treasure the memory,

And do what I should.

 

I’m feeling wonderful!

And I don’t know why.

I’m on top of the world,

I tell you no lie!

 

 

In a Rush

Frank over at beachwalkreflections.wordpress.com has constantly been inspiring me, enticingly me, compelling me to think. I love it. A recent post of his did just that.  It is called Rush. In its simplest terms it’s about how we as a species always seem to be in a rush. Ain’t it the truth?

It made me think of a story that my mother used to tell me about how I was born. It seems I was in a hurry even then. My mother had been taken to the hospital by my father and the doctor on duty told them that it would be hours before I was born, I was a third child, so my father could continue onto his business event. My mother would be fine. Shortly after my father left, my mother’s doctor came in, took one look at my mother and basically said ‘this woman is about to have a child on the floor!’

We laughed about it. My mother always maintained that if the doctor had not been standing exactly where he was when I literally popped out, I would’ve been smashed against the far wall. And that laid the foundation for my personality. I’ve always been in a rush. I was in a hurry to grow tall enough so that my feet would touch the floor when I sat on a chair. I was in a hurry to grow up so that I could wear make-up, kiss boys, go to university, get a job… I was impatient. I always seemed to do my best work when I was under a time crunch, I loved deadlines. I would often wait until the last minute to do an essay or project because I loved that thrill of near panic. Diamonds are formed under pressure. Yep, I am an original.

That is not to say that I missed my life as it whizzed by.  I savoured my adventures, my relationships, my life. I just did it in second gear. And then I was diagnosed with MS. Talk about an eye-opener. Not only was I forced to slow down, I was forced to stop. You know what happens in a car when you stomp on the brakes. Everything becomes topsy-turvy until it finally settles. That is exactly what happened to me. It took me several years to adjust to a slower speed and even to stopping. But I take the time to enjoy it now. I still love deadlines. I still love the thrill of getting something done just before it’s due. I love working on my blog the day before I’m expected to post something just because it’s exhilarating.

And while my body may have slowed down to a comfortable crawl, my mind is still working in overdrive. I don’t see that changing anytime soon.

Slipping Away…

 

It’s dark. Everything is dark. All your senses are tentatively reaching out only to touch darkness. Slowly, oh so slowly your eyes creep open, just a touch. Your head moves of its own volition towards the clock. Your eyes start to focus. 2, 1, 7. It’s 2:17 in the bloody morning! Your eyes burst open and your head practically levitates off the pillow. Damn! You have another three hours to sleep. Sleep. If only it was that easy. You’ve only been unconscious for . . .  three hours. Six solid hours of sleep is good, been working for you for years. It’s when it is interrupted by . . . whatever, that it becomes a problem. And then it happens.

Your eyes close in frustration, you become aware of something unusual, something enticing. You move your eyes back-and-forth behind your lids trying to find that little spark that you just saw briefly in the recesses of your mind.  You start to sigh, your frustration growing when that spark maturates, ripens.  Behind your closed eyes that intoxication begins to take form, begins to make sense. Understanding forces your eyes open wide. This is good. This is very good. Your mind continues to weave and coalesce. Images force themselves to the front of your mind, they become sharp and clear.  YES!

You are a writer and this is proof! This is going to turn the world on fire! Damn this is good! You spend the next several hours organizing, deleting, extrapolating your brilliant idea. When you’re finally satisfied, you have a brief moment of panic: you should probably write this down. You were itching to get up and put pen to paper or fingers to keyboard and record this for posterity. Because that is what’s going to happen. This is going to be extolled from the highest towers of publishing. Damn it’s good.

You look over at the clock feeling drained but exhilarated. 2, 4, 5.  Wait! What? It’s only been a few minutes! Your mind is spinning  and then the unthinkable happens. You are overcome with fatigue. Your eyes slowly begin to close. You struggle to keep them open and then convince yourself that your brilliance is far too bright to be forgotten. You will remember. The gentle fingers of sleep massage your temples and pull you deeper, deeper. You sleep.

And like water seeping through your fingertips. You cannot hold back the tide and you forget. When you finally awaken you remember the brilliance, you remember the incredible feeling of satisfaction and vindication but you forget the words. You desperately try to rewind your mind; you try to catch even a glimpse of that intoxication and you can’t. It’s gone. It fades like tendrils of fog and is whispered away on the wind to be remembered no more.

Welcome to my world.

To Be There and Back

A short time ago I read a post by a friend about Homeostasis. Now don’t cringe it is a real thing. It happens all around us all the time, we just tend to ignore it. Frank over at Beach Walk Reflections (beachwalkreflections.wordpress.com) has a wonderful blog that you should check out. Homeostasis is about finding balance.

For the most part we take the idea of balance for granted. We walk, we drive, we run. But when we feel the least bit dizzy or off-balance, we realize how bad it can all become. Think of that on a global scale. Our world is off-balance, misaligned. We have drought in areas and yet a few hours away they’re drowning in flood waters. In some countries record number of people are dying from hunger and other countries there is so much food they are throwing it out. How is that balanced?

As this world evolved there were checks and balances. Predators and prey. At one time it was a finely tuned system. Overtime some species were naturally removed and new ones developed.  And, then we popped up. Talk about throwing a wrench into the works.  In our hubris we decided to give evolution a hand. It was the wrong hand. And what a mess we created. There is a story that I believe happened in Australia about a community that disliked the sound of a particular bird so much they set about eradicating it. With the decline of the bird there was a surplus of a particularly nasty snake. You see the birds’ favourite food was, you guessed it, the nasty snake. The bird was allowed to make a come-back and the snake population declined. Hubris.

The human species is like a small child who wants to run before they can walk. They don’t think what the ramifications will be to putting their hand on a hot stove because, well, they want to. And they don’t seem to learn from the pain. We don’t seem to learn. I am speaking generally and as a species when the truth is, there are those who are fighting to regain the balance. I just hope we haven’t left it too long.

As individuals you may think there’s very little we can do to affect the global imbalances but individuals are part of a community and communities are part of the whole which does affect everything.  So, when I hear someone saying that ‘there’s nothing they can do they’re just one person’ I disagree. Your small part is a part of the bigger picture and a bigger picture can move mountains. It all starts with one person, one belief, one action. Which becomes two, which becomes four, which becomes thousands. That’s how we get our work done…

 

 

 

 

 

What Is a Poem?

Is Poetry just words,

Set down on a page?

Or is it a hunger,

Of sadness or rage?

 

Is it straight from the heart,

Through words from the mind?

An attempt to connect,

Perhaps redefined?

 

If truth is the goal,

Are the words more satirical?

To soften the blow,

They could be quite lyrical!

 

I know in my heart,

The words here are true.

Impassioned, embolden,

The many, the few.

 

Poetry is love,

It is hate and despair.

For some it’s a way,

To show that they care.

 

The sweet gentle kiss,

Of a butterfly’s wings.

The dulcet sweet sounds,

As the Morning Dove sings.

 

Poetry is the blood,

That flows through the words.

The cadence the spice,

In first and in thirds.

 

Fear not the meaning,

Immersed in the rhyme.

Poetry is everything,

And nothing in time.

 

Share in your knowledge,

And destroy every barrier.

Rejoice in the words,

And then be a carrier.

 

 

Kindly Clutter

 

Last weekend I had an unusual occurrence. I stopped thinking. Now that sounds a little odd but my mind is constantly in motion. It’s a little creepy when I say it out loud but it simply means I am always aware of thoughts. Good thoughts. I work out short stories in my head or posts for my blog or poems.  A lot of my quips come out of my gentle musings. I watch TV or read  to distract me but I’m rarely able to do one thing at a time. And then last weekend it all stopped.

You know how people are always saying in order to truly relax you must rid your mind of all thought. I can’t do that. I’m like a hamster on a wheel going around and around and around. It’s been like this my entire life so to me it’s just like white noise. My mind is always cogitating in the background and for the most part I don’t pay attention. I explained to a friend that one has a brain, a mind and body. We are our own trinity.  Think of it as your brain is the hardware, your mind is the software and your body is the packaging that keeps everything from falling apart. I told you my mind works in strange ways. So, when it stopped, I was . . . bereft.

Do you remember the expression:  “Water, water everywhere and not a drop to drink”? It’s from The Rime of the Ancient Mariner by Samuel Taylor Coleridge. Of course, I modified it for my circumstances . . . Clutter, clutter everywhere and not a thought to think. My mind is full of clutter, as is my home. I have always admired the concept of minimalism but I could never live that way. I need my clutter. It enlightens me, it inspires me, it consoles me. I wouldn’t have it any other way.

For almost two days I wandered around my apartment trying to distract myself. Fortunately, my weeks-worth of posting was already set. It’s like walking through a visual world and not being able to see. One of my senses was gone. It was not gone for long. But it did leave me unsettled. I have now gotten a post out of it so it wasn’t all bad.

I greatly admire people who have lost an ability and have been able to function beautifully with what they have left. Then again maybe I do understand. I lost my legs 20 years ago or rather I lost the use of them. I’ve been in a wheelchair for two decades and my life really hasn’t changed significantly. Yes, I have to modify how things are done and there are things that do defeat me but I can usually find a work-around. It helps to be tenacious and occasionally cranky. The Ancient Mariner may have been becalmed on a salty sea with nothing to drink but I have people and words to go to for thoughtful nourishment.

 

Planting a Seed

This is a blast from my past. It was originally posted in May 2017.

Each spring we anticipate the joy of bringing life into our gardens.  We plan and choose and anxiously wait for the frost to leave the ground We knowingly plant our gardens and wait for the flowers to bloom forth bringing the beauty that we know exists just below the surface.  We are proud of our efforts and spend hundreds of thousands of dollars, perhaps more on something that is often ephemeral. Hmmmm . . .

Wouldn’t it be nice to plant a seed that we could see bloom every day?   Actually, we can. We also plant other seeds every day but we probably aren’t aware of it.  A smile, a wave, a wink or a nod: simple gestures that can actually have lasting ramifications. We have no idea how many people we touch in a single day, a single hour and yet touch them we do. And that’s where the seeds take root.

Unfortunately, those seeds, those ideas, we plant aren’t always positive. Anger has a nasty way of leaving its mark long after the argument is done. Fear can last for generations, all from a single seed planted by people we don’t even know. Racism, bigotry, prejudice, the list is endless. We have the power within ourselves to make a difference. Within our hands, our hearts and our minds are the seeds that we can spread willingly and positively. We are in control, but do we know it?

Each one of us has a need to be nurtured, protected in order to properly thrive.  It is the height of hubris to think that others don’t have the same need.  There are more than 7 billion people on this earth and we all have something in common: Life.  We need to share it in order to blossom.

It’s a little heady to think that we have this power, this opportunity to improve ourselves and those around us.  When we catch the eye of the stranger do they see kindness and charity in our eyes or do they see fear and disdain. We can control that. We can control the narrative.

In 100 years you and I will probably be forgotten. In 50 years there might be a faint echo of us in those who are children now. In 25 years we should still be a part of the conversation, perhaps in passing. Tomorrow and the next day I want to be a continuing part of that narrative.  I want to plant seeds of compassion and empathy in those around me. In that way I can pay it forward and the see the beauty that sleeps just below the surface. How about you?

A Fashion Statement

What are you wearing,

When you start your day?

Does a smile go on first?

Is compassion your way?

 

A must is some kindness,

And tolerance is too.

A scarf of acceptance,

With an honesty tattoo.

 

Not just of fiber.

Are the clothes we put on,

Sometimes the best,

Are emotionally drawn.

 

We choose what we wear,

What we take to the world,

Our choices define us,

Our secrets unfurled.

 

So, begin every day,

With intentions to give,

And what you will receive,

Is the best way to live.

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 . . .

And

Such a little word. Three letters, one syllable. It is often overlooked, much maligned and often disregarded. But it has a mighty job. People often replace it with a comma and while that is fine, it doesn’t tell the whole story. A comma will relate words together but ‘and’ binds them. Husband and wife. Peanut butter and jam. Melodies and lyrics. War and peace. I could continue. There are things that belong together, the word ‘and’ ensures that they do.

As is so often true it is the little things that make the difference. ‘And’ is a word that doesn’t just bring things together it connects them. Rogers and Hammerstein were great individual artists but put them together and they made magic. Their music is timeless. Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers were brilliant performers but when they danced together, they were the quintessential couple.  Think of foods that are better because they have been combined. Peanut butter is great on a cracker but add jam and put it between two pieces of bread . . . you have a childhood favourite. And, I might add, a few adults…

As a species we need to associate with another in order to procreate, to evolve. We also need connections to enhance our quality of life. If we keep breathing, we can stay alive but in order to have an actual life we need relationships. That is why we have cities and towns, communities for protection and for sustainability. We are social creatures.  Very few are true isolationists. Some do prefer to live alone but there will always be a connection somewhere even if it is tenuous. In the animal world it is the same thing. Some do live a singular life but there is a need, a compulsion to come together to reproduce.

When we have healthy competition, we will strive for betterment. When we have mutual support, we can reach for the stars. It is only when we are together that we can achieve greatness. And if we are simply the audience to that greatness, we are still part of the whole picture. Even the lowliest of seeds has the potential to become a great oak with the right support.

The world needs to understand that we are better collectively. When the coronavirus first hit, the world came together to fight the devastation. We work stronger, more efficiently when we are a team, when we are us.

Do you know what else ‘and’ has done? It has brought together you and I. I think that’s pretty special.