Good friends are like the stars in the sky: always there even when you can’t see them.
I am not now nor have I ever been considered a fashionista. No one has ever swooned at the sight of my shoes. Neither has anyone drunkenly staggered to the curb and vomited at the sight of my scarf. I am not fashion forward nor am I fashion savvy. I wear what is comfortable and what I consider to be inoffensive. I am pretty sure that Picasso would be bored at my attire. And Pavarotti would never sing arias at my fashionable wit. I am absolutely fine with that!
I ensure that the appropriate bits are suitably clothed and that there is nothing showing that would cause eye spasms if noticed out of context. Shoes, socks, shirts and slacks. That’s not too difficult a mantra to work around. I do admire people who can be tastefully put together. My concern is that I am not too distastefully put together that I cause small children to scream at the sight. But I do have a question . . .
What were they thinking? Over the years fashion has been created and directed by a small and questionably sane, syndicate of designers. There is a conspiracy with marketing gurus and the clothing associations. Billions is at play. Successes have been brilliant and failures have been hilarious. I beg forgiveness if I offended anyone with my list of Fashion Foibles. . . .
Socks with sandals. Seriously do I need to say anything else? If your toes are cold, wear shoes !
Your underwear is showing! If you think your underwear is so mind blowing that everyone needs to see it, wear it on top your pants. I didn’t think so. The statement you are actually making is: “I’m an idiot”.
Your belly is showing! There truly are individuals who when wearing these crop tops can be seen as adorable, they’re 12.
Fanny packs. I thought these were great when they were popular. I still think they are practical. Now do you understand why I’m not considered fashionable?
The Man Bun. As a woman perhaps I don’t have the right to judge this supposedly new fashion statement by men. But gentleman did you know that the ‘man bun’ has been around since at least the 10th century? The samurai sported it a very long time ago and I will question whether or not you could live up to their standards. Call me mean but I don’t like the man bun.
I like comfort and convenience in my clothing. I hate the fact that so many women, especially young ones, are getting their fashion ideas rammed down their throats by people who are out to make a buck. I like women in dresses with comfortable shoes. I like men in suits and ties. I like jeans and loafers with billowing shirts and funky scarfs. My heart goes out to those who are killing themselves to be fashionable. And my condemnation goes out to those who pray on the aforementioned.
I may not be considered fashionable but I am considered tidy and that’s a better trade-off in my book!
I’m not afraid of living
I am afraid of life
Every day’s a battle
So often filled with strife
I’m not afraid of death
I am afraid of dying
I could say that I am not
But then I would be lying
They say that fear is healthy
A way to keep us safe
To live a life the fullest
Not wasted as a waif
I will do my dearest
To keep my fear at bay
To live a life of living
Before death comes my way
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 everyday? 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 it’s 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 with in 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 fully 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 a 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 only 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 see the beauty that sleeps just below the surface. How about you?