Tag Archives: positive changes

Angel’s Tears

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A lonely child by the window sat,

And watched the rain fall down.

Rivulets formed on the glassy panes.

The drops a diamond crown.

A mother tried to soothe her child,

And told a story from long ago.

About an angel lost in heaven,

Who had no where to go.

Hid amongst the clouds so high,

She feared the face of God.

But He knew and He is kind,

He cleared her celestial fog.

“Fear not child, my love is true”,

Came a gentle voice.

”I’ll always be beside you,

If that would be your choice”.

The frightened angel dried her tears.

And took the outstretched hand.

“Forgive me please my dearest Lord,

I did not understand.”

But still sometimes the tears do fall.

It’s a difficult path to keep.

Fear and sorrow overcome,

And then the angels weep.

So next you see a peaceful rain,

Remember well this tale.

Never fear the face of God,

He’ll not let you fail.

Unplugged

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Have you ever wondered what it would be like to turn off, well, everything? Have you ever wondered what the wind sounds like or are you too intent on looking at your phone? I have stated in the past that I wonder what would happen if we lost all power, all electronics. Yes, it would be devastating on so many levels, medical equipment, elevators, heat etc. etc. etc. but what if?

In my past I have spent days, many days in the wilderness where there is no electricity. You get up with the dawn and you go to sleep by fire light. The sky is breathtaking in its majesty, sound is magnified but harmonious, there are no screeching cars here, everything is more . . . present. You can’t see things like that in the city because of light pollution. So much pollution. But it exists.

I have always found the first night to be a little, awkward. It took me a while to get used to the, not silence, but the gentle background sounds that were often difficult to identify. There was a gentle rustle of the leaves and grasses. The unknown bird or animal squawking, whether as predator or prey was unclear. I could feel the wind on my face and smell the earthy scents of honesty. Because that is what it was, it wasn’t adulterated or modified or improved upon. It was reality in its truest sense of the word.

In our busy lives we rarely have time to sit back and unplug. We should. Would you take a few minutes every day and just turn everything off? Phones, computers, tablets and radios and TVs and, and, and. Now just listen. What do you hear? Yes, I am sitting in front of my computer writing this but I’m also listening and what I hear is fascinating. I can hear cars in the distance, not loud. Oh, I just heard a bird cry. I wonder if it is in anticipation or in fear. I’ll never know. I can hear people talking but I can’t make out what they’re saying. A car door slams. I am in a town, a downtown area. But it is surprisingly quiet. I listen. I can hear a clock ticking in my background, it’s in the other room. If I stop talking, I can just make out the refrigerator, I think. It’s quietly humming. I can hear a very faint roaring sound and it takes me a minute to realize that it’s the sound the car tires make as they travel over the roads. Interesting. I never thought of it before. We take so many sounds for granted but we never actually realize what we’re listening to. Much like talking to each other or listening to strangers. Do we really hear what they’re saying? I wonder.

Take a minute to unplug and see what you can hear…

April’s Showers

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She hated her name, she hated this month, and above all she hated this rain! April clutched her handbag a little tighter to her chest as well as her slightly damp newspaper. It was just a few more steps before she could get out of this relentless rain and into her nice, warm coffee shop.

With a sigh April sat down at her usual table and smiled at the waitress. She knew what April always ordered and she would bring her a coffee and a warm croissant just like yesterday, and the day before, and the day before that. When her coffee arrived April wrapped her chilly hands around the cup and breathed in the hot steaming aroma of freshly brewed coffee. It was coffee, it wasn’t a Grande non-fat latte with soy milk and half fat hazelnut vanilla shavings or something else bizarre. It was just coffee: good old black, strong coffee. For the first time that day she sighed and allowed herself to relax.

This was the time of day April enjoy above all else. She could sit and relax over her cup of coffee, she could read the paper, and she could think about the day’s events: what she wanted to do, what she should do, and what she had done. As she was sipping her coffee and nibbling on her croissant the door opened and with it came a nasty, cold wet wind. And all April could do was think about how much she hated this month and shiver.

The person that came through the door and intruded on April’s musing was a man. Physically he was an attractive man: tall, well-built, muscular. But he had one glaring imperfection: he was smiling! The first words out of his mouth were the dreaded words that April had been hearing her whole life:

“April showers bring May flowers!” The man smiled and shook his umbrella causing more drops of cold water to infest the room. “I would like a cup of very hot, very strong, very ordinary coffee, if I may.”

April cringed, he was a happy man.

“I must admit I absolutely love the April showers.” The man positively exuded well-being. “The rain washes the world clean and leaves it smelling like spring. What could be more uplifting than a rainy day in spring?”

The waitress behind the counter chuckled to herself. She glanced over at April knowing full well that April was not a happy person in the morning and she didn’t enjoy other people being happy in the morning either. It seemed to interfere with her most comfortable state of miserable.

If the gentleman in question had simply picked up his coffee and exited the café the day would have continued in exactly the same manner as it always had. But this gentleman decided to stay and enjoy his coffee. He looked around the room and saw only one customer. Like a predator sensing fresh meat he moved towards April’s table.

“Excuse me Miss may I join you?” He asked pleasantly enough.

Without raising her head she replied, “I prefer to be alone, thank you.” Her answer was curt but not impolite.

“Nonsense, no one should drink their coffee alone.” And the man sat.

April looked up, too shocked to actually say anything. For the first time in her life her mind was blank. There was no witty retort on the tip of her tongue to spew forth and lash at this intrusive stranger. All she could do was stare and hope that the disdain on her face was clearly visible.

“As I said no one should drink their coffee alone and certainly not a beautiful woman.” He was still smiling. “And my name is Bill.”

April couldn’t stop staring. She knew that in polite company she should smile demurely and offer him her name. But she couldn’t do it. If she told him her name he would say what a thousand other people have said to her in that same happy tone: ‘April showers bring May flowers!’ She hated her name! She did consider coming up with an alias on the spot, something like Hermione or Persephone. But she couldn’t do it. She sighed, it was her lot in life and she was honest enough to accept the consequences.

“My name is April.”

As she said her name, April looked down at her coffee, her half eaten croissant and her unopened paper. She didn’t want to see the look on his face as he said those horrible words she had grown to hate. But one second turned in to two and then three and still he said nothing. So April raised her head and looked at him.

“I know what it’s like to have a name that is used in other contexts. I get called the bill collector, or asked if I have heard the joke about the Billboard. I could use the named William but it gives people pleasure to make silly little jokes about my name and it doesn’t cost me anything. People need a little silly in their lives and I am actually quite honoured that I can put a smile on someone’s face. It does get a little tedious sometimes but it’s still a smile.

April grimaced, “I find it tedious all the time! The rain is unceasing. The damp makes my hair frizzy, my clothes get wet, my feet are constantly cold and for someone to come up to me and sing that silly song about showers and May flowers it’s horrible!”

Bill took a sip of his steaming coffee and pondered what she had said for just a moment.

“Actually I think it’s quite wonderful that you remind people of the beauty that comes about because of the rain in April. You could say you’re an icon that helps people to remember the beauty that’s out there and that will soon be all around us because it’s the beginning of spring. I would think you’d be quite pleased.”

April heaved a sigh and shook her head.

“How can you be so happy with such horrible things going on in the world? People are dying in other countries for political agendas we can’t fully understand. People are getting mugged on the street for $20 in their wallet. There are starving children in this city not just in other countries of the world and we sit here drinking our coffee as if nothing was wrong. How can you justify that?”

Bill’s smile wavered just a fraction and he shook his head. “You can never justify the horrible things that are going on in the world. You can support the agencies that help those who are most in need. And you can honour those who are fighting to protect our way of life. You can live your life to the fullest and never forget that there were those who gave up their lives so that you and I could sit here and drink a cup of coffee in relative peace and security.”

April grasped her almost empty coffee cup tighter, her croissant and paper completely forgotten. “I can’t just shut off my mind with all the horrible things that are going on outside that door.” April was exasperated that this man didn’t understand. What right did she have to be happy?

Bill stared at this obviously distraught woman. There was more wrong here than just a individual’s dislike of a song. She was so caught up in what was wrong, evil, and hateful that she was missing the most important thing of all. He couldn’t leave this woman wallowing in this state, he had to open her eyes and make her see.

“April, I have just met you. Out of the blue I chose to walk into this café to sit at this table and to speak to you. Don’t you find it interesting that I would choose to come in today? I’ve walked by this café, a hundred times and never thought twice about coming in. But today of all days, I did. Maybe it was the rain that brought me in. Maybe you and I were meant to meet. Maybe in 50 years we will be telling our grandchildren about how I picked you up in a café.” Bill smile was quite lopsided at this point.

At first April was too stunned to respond. But somewhere deep inside her she did respond to this very strange, very attractive man. Somewhere deep inside her a smile was trying to burst through.

“Grandchildren? Now how do I know you’ve got the right stuff?”

Bill’s smile became even bigger. He knew he had made inroads.

“Is that a smile I see creeping up the side of your mouth? If it is, it is, I know it is, April you are smiling!”

April was almost smiling. Her hands were clutched around her coffee cup as if she was holding onto an anchor, trying desperately not to give in. She took a sip, and then looked up at her table companion.

“I know I tend to see the negative side of things, but we can never forget that the negative does exists.”

For the first time since he sat down at the table Bill stopped smiling.

“You are absolutely right April, we can never forget what horrible things are going on in this world. But it’s also very important that we never forget what an incredible world we actually have. There are good people here. Everywhere you turn. We should never turn a blind eye to what is bad in the world. In the same token, we must never turn a blind eye or be afraid to acknowledge that beautiful things exist. The simple act of the sun rising in the morning and its rays reflecting off the dew on a rose petal should make us give thanks.”

April looked at this strange man, this strange intruder, and she did smile. Maybe he was right. Maybe we need to be aware of the bad things in the world and focus on the good. It was raining today and it was cold. Maybe tomorrow the sun would shine. Maybe today was not the best of all days, but tomorrow might be. Maybe the showers did bring something good, something positive. There’s another song that April thought of at that moment. She didn’t remember the name of the song or who sang it. But there was one line: “. . . accentuate the positive.” That was a good thought.

Just at that moment, the rain stopped, and a ray of sunshine poked through the clouds. The sun and the rain work hand-in-hand. Just like we all should.

Two strangers met at a table in a café on a rainy April day, but parted as friends, smiling.

Recipe for Life

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A dash of humour,

Is a spice I adore.

Curiosity of course,

Of that I want more.

Compassion and tolerance,

Are vital I trust.

To properly season,

This stew we discussed.

You’re not done yet,

There is still more to learn.

Keep stirring I pray,

And don’t let it burn!

Next add a pinch,

No more and no less.

Confidence is needed,

To this I confess.

Kindness goes in,

And generosity too.

We always need manners,

And not just a few!

Honour and honesty,

Are herbs for this pot.

Perhaps some wisdom,

I’m not asking a lot.

Next sprinkle the top,

With a generous amount.

A smile is important,

On that you can count.

Now let it simmer,

And cook all the way.

The ingredients must meld,

For many a day.

Too many cooks,

Can spoil a good broth.

So just let it bubble,

Away from the cloth.

The day will come soon,

When the recipe is done.

And serving the stew,

Is when life has begun.

D.N.A.

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Do Not Annoy, Dastardly Narcissistic A-hole, Damn, Nearly Away, DeoxyriboNucleic Acid .

Three little letters. Or should I say three big letters? Those three letters can make or break a criminal case in a court of law. But what do they mean to you and me, living our lives day-to-day? It comes back to the question of nature versus nurture. You hear people complaining that their DNA is the reason they are nasty or have pimples. To some extent that is correct. I had pimples as a child and it probably was because somewhere in my genetic makeup somebody had pimples. But to blame my genetic makeup for being a jerk? That I find….Irritating.

I am tired of hearing criminals blame the fact that they have committed crimes of such heinous nature as to almost be unbelievable on the fact they had a wet diaper when they were two. Scientists will tell you that a great deal of who and what we are can be traced back to our ancestors. On this I will concur. But don’t use the fact that my ancestor was a bully to colour me with the same brush. I am not my ancestor in the same way that I am not my brother or my sister. I love and admire both of them but I am an individual. I am myself. Any blame with regards to malfeasance is mine and mine alone.

Children are being raised today to blame others for their actions. I was reprimanded in seventh grade and I bear the scars to this day. Horse hockey! Or if you prefer: Bull crap! While indeed we are the product of our upbringing as well as our DNA we also have free will. Hopefully as children we were taught responsibility as well as compassion and integrity. Nurture is important but so is nature. One has the ability to supersede the other if one is lacking. Time and time again people have proven that they can rise above their less than humble beginnings or the abusive nature of their nurturing. People have the ability to be great but they have to believe and sometimes that is difficult.

Parents have the most difficult job in the world. It is their responsibility to raise children to improve society. Unfortunately, sometimes they never know if they have succeeded or failed. Children also have responsibilities. We don’t always know what it is that is lacking in ourselves and in others. That’s why we need each other. We live in a world with other people. We can help one another. The more we connect, the stronger we become and the better our world will be.

Lesson Learned…

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I have always considered myself a bright child but a slow learner. I could usually pick up on what needed to be learned but I didn’t want do the work to get there. I am by nature lazy unless I get excited about something and then I’m a Pitbull. I am a woman of contradictions, but then… so are you. We are never exactly what we appear to be to others and that is not always a bad thing. Every book has a cover that entices you either by the words used or the picture it portrays. It’s what is inside that matters.

And the same is true with people. We portray an image to the world that is expected. We follow the rules and do as we are told. But we often let our hair down when the world is not looking and that’s when life gets interesting. But sometimes we need to learn our lessons the hard way. I occasionally need to run over my own foot before I realize I shouldn’t be doing that. I might do it once more just to be sure. But those lessons do get learned, eventually.

In school I was an average student. I excelled at the studies I enjoyed and I squeaked by in the ones I did not enjoy. I would study at the last minute or do my essay the night before and sometimes I got away with it brilliantly. Annoying to some of my friends. I once wrote an essay, literally the night before and the morning of. When it was handed in, I was quite pleased with myself but I figured it was probably just average. When we got the essays back a week later the teacher stood up in front of the class held a paper up and said that this was a student who took the time to do the research and to do it well. That we should take note and realize that things didn’t always come easy, we had to work at it. My friend looked at me and quietly mouth a bad word. It was my paper. I never told the teacher the truth. But some things came easily to me and those are the ones I enjoyed doing. I loved to write those essays because I loved to write. I didn’t need to do a lot of work and that meant the lessons I needed to learn weren’t learned. I was OK being average.

There is a part of me that wonders how well I would have done had I applied myself and then I realize that I had a wonderful life, I still am. I don’t look back with regret but I think I would have regrets had I spent the time worrying about things that were ultimately unimportant. I might have missed a great deal of enjoyment. I got the work done. I learned the important lessons. And I made use of the world in front of me. That is a lesson we all need to take to heart.

It’s 4:00 in the morning!

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I recently ran across this post written in July 2018. I thought I would like to share it again. I hope you don’t mind.

It’s 4:00 in the morning!

4 AM. The clock ticks inexorably towards 5 o’clock but it’s still a long way away. It is dark. It is quiet. But it is not silent. I can hear a clock ticking in the other room . . . tick tick tick. A relentless metronome. Tick tick tick. Isn’t there supposed to be a tock in there somewhere? It’s funny how we interpret what we hear.

I just heard a car, I think, it was a quiet, dull roar. Fortunately no car alarms! I can hear my refrigerator faintly humming. Not a tune I know. Silly me. I get a little punchy in the wee, wee hours of the day. Or is it still night? Technically it’s the morning but that doesn’t seem right until after dawn. But it is a quiet time.

I can hear my heart beating. Odd. It is something that has been doing the same job for more years than I wish to admit to and yet it is alien to me. My liver, my spleen. These are all important aspects of what makes me tick but I have no relationship with them. They are the mechanisms within the shell of my body. And I am no mechanic!

I am tired. But I am not sleepy. My body wants to rest but my mind insists it has something important to say. I wonder what that is. I wonder what is the meaning of life. Meaning. Mean. Such different meanings. Can you be mean to your meanings? How do we understand? Why do we not understand? We are not so different from each other and yet we insist that we are. Why? Why do we hate what we do not understand? When? When did we come to believe that it was okay to hate? Is that the meaning of life?

Understanding. Perhaps when we understand each other we will realize that only when we are acting as one, can we become one. One species, one race, one people. Too few people have tried. We are raised to be individuals and we cannot comprehend how we can be a part of something bigger when we come together as a whole. We do not give up our individuality by joining a group we simply enhance the group.

I feel I’m in ranting but I also feel that it is important. I am important. You are important. But even better than all of that: WE ARE IMPORTANT! WE MATTER.

Reflection versus Direction

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It would appear that the post I had planned to use today is still percolating and not quite ready. So, I thought I would regale you with a post from 2014. I hope you enjoy.

In this day and age almost everything we say or do can be broadcast to the world. You never know if your picture is being taken on the street or in the shops. Movie cameras have moved into our workplace, our leisure time and our wars. We have instant information at our fingertips. But I have a question for you: does the instant relating of news serve as a reflection of what is happening or is it directing us.

The whole strategy behind marketing is to influence people in their decision-making. If one soap brand has a really cool commercial they will probably end up with more sales than another brand. So it stands to reason that if the newsmakers present, for example, a war with the appropriate packaging it will be accepted more easily by the general public. We want our world neatly packaged and delivered painlessly to us.

Who was it that said you can never be too thin or too rich? Well if you’re too thin you die and if you’re too rich, ummmm, I’m thinking. Okay I got it! If you are too rich then you become insulated from the human condition. Okay maybe not. I’m not too thin and I’m not too rich. What I am is too damn tired of Hollywood and its environs telling us how to look, how to act, how to think, how to live. They’re trying to mold us into perfect little automatons.

In order to be yourself you have to disregard the advertisements that tell you what shampoos to use and how your makeup is to be applied, how to dress. If we can be true to ourselves and honour the person we actually are and not the image that society wants us to project, then I believe we have a chance. We need to raise children to be forward thinkers and not sheep-like followers.

I don’t have any children so why am I so concerned about other people’s offspring? Simply put: other people’s kids are our future. If I love this world then I should want it to continue. The only way that will happen is if we have people at the forefront who care. News needs to be analyzed and marketing gimmicks need to be dismissed. The truth is there, it is just sometimes difficult to see.

I was raised by parents who loved me. They never taught me to hate. They did teach me to care. And I do care. I care about the atrocities I see happening in other parts of the world. I care about the horrible greed that exists around so many of our politicians. I see hate, I see rage, I see iniquities, I see despair and I see fear. What I also see is love, understanding and compassion.

I also see hope. Above all else hope will save our world. If we stick together we will overcome adversity and we will flourish. The world is ours.