One Beautiful Thing ~ Five

Jesse...avid bird watcher, takes rubbing his head on stuff so seriously it's almost an extreme sport, kneader of bellies, delicious purr, most inquisitive little face ever...most importantly..head over heels in love with my son.

Mojo....born under a poster of his namesake (Jim Morrison), a purr so quiet you need to lean in close to hear it, crusty nose, lover of warm summer breezes and paw to paw combat, big snuggler in bed...but we love him best when he's just bein' a Mojer! ;-)

One Beautiful Thing ~ Four

Petersfield Park

Conlan refused to leave XBox land so I headed out today alone. It was chilly in town but in the woods, it was deliciously warm. I brought my birdseed for the chickadees and squirrels. Homemade bird feeders are scattered throughout the park. They are tame enough they eat out of your hands...look at that soft little belly...



but the squirrels give nothing but attitude....

See what I mean? ;-)

Strolling along, I stopped to pet some happy dogs and chat with their owners. What is it with dogs? They are always super excited about life...everything is an adventure. I dig that about them.

Strolling along quietly, I made sure to notice every beautiful detail. Just seeing green leaves finally breaking through brough a smile to my face.

Look at those rich colors! Amazing right?!

I was giving up on flowers so I was taking pics of a seagull on the beach below but when I turned, I was greeted with this burst of pink...

And just like that...all was right with the world.

One Beautiful Thing ~ Three



Wandering through the graveyard, a soft mist settled over the ancient headstones. A slight breeze ruffled the tree branches, it's buds aching to burst forth. I could feel the ghosts of yesterday, some lost, some content to stroll the rolling green hills of their final resting place.

Amid the tacky, plastic flowers strewn about, I stumbled upon an old wooden cross. Weather beaten but proud to be surrounded by the flower bushes planted with love beside it. The beautiful pink blossoms remain inside but underneath..these lovely blue wildflowers blossomed. Defiant. Determined to shine before the pink petals steal their thunder.

Annointed by the soft, spring rain.

One Beautiful Thing ~ Two

Mira Gut Beach

When the tide goes out and the sandbar is exposed, you can walk among the sea gulls where there are sand dollars underfoot. Eagles spread their majestic wings and soar overhead. Terns divebomb for crabs. Beautiful shades of blue and a carpet of mussels. Pastel rocks and driftwood.

Peace of mind.

One Beautiful Thing - One

My cherished friend, Jaime,( Rhayne ) is doing a month long project for May. To explain what that is, it's best to use her words...

"For the month of May, I want to share a daily project with you. Each day, I will post one beautiful thing. One photograph, one movie, perhaps a few words, some days maybe no words...One thing that reflects on what is good and true and beautiful to me, in hopes that it will carry itself forward and fill you up with goodness. I want to create a ripple effect. And I invite you to share with me what brings you peace within the crazy. What makes you happy? What allows you to tune out the negative and absorb the beauty?"

She has inspired me to take part...this is day one...

I went for a walk in Baille Ard park yesterday after it had rained. The scent of spring permeated the air, robins fluttered through the trees, and raindrops adorned the pussywillows like sparkling pieces of crystal. Dogs were running past through the wet grass and muddy trail, their happy little faces can't help but make you smile. Sweet trills of song and pussywillows just begging for my lens to lean in for a closer look at the magic.

Not even the rain can resist the pussywillows...can you?

Do it or don't do it.

So there's this dude named Steven.

He wrote a book called "The War of Art."

He said "Most of us live two lives. The life we live and the unlived life within us. Between the two stands Resistance."

Word.

All my life I have believed one thing. I'm a writer. So what the hell is going on that I have allowed myself to veer so far off course? It's bad enough that I'm not fully living the way I should be but who do I think I am to ignore my calling in life? To hide from my gift? To let Resistance kick my ass the way that it has been? Something needs to be done. I'm the only one who has the power to change this. Writer's block has had it's way with me for far too long.

So I read his words that made me cry the first time I read them.

Are you a born writer? Were you put on earth to be a painter, a scientist, an apostle of peace? In the end the question can only be answered by action.
Do it or don't do it.

It may help to think of it this way. If you were meant to cure cancer or write a symphony or crack cold fusion and you don't do it, you not only hurt yourself, even destroy yourself. You hurt your children. You hurt me. You hurt the planet.

You shame the angels who watch over you and you spite the Almighty, who created you and only you with your unique gifts, for the sole purpose of nudging the human race one millimeter farther along its path back to God.

Creative work is not a selfish act or a bid for attention on the part of the actor. It's a gift to the world and every being in it. Don't cheat us of your contribution. Give us what you've got.

Can I get a hell yeah?

Life is so short, I need to start believing in my gifts. I want to write the story I know I have in me.

Do it or don't do it. 

I'm on it, Steven.

                                   

Catharsis

My heart has been a dark place this week.

The inner warrior unfurled her black wings, fierce and ready for battle. She could feel the girl inside, the one banished to the torch-lit corridors of her mind stirring to life. The script adorning her arms glowing in the candle light. His cross. Never hers. And yet she carried the weight. Never allowed to forget the pain inflicted upon her. Never able to heal, even decades later. He always resurfaces. His cruelty, his emotional warfare, his utter lack of remorse.

So...I go to the sea.

Cold, winter wind whips my hair. Brine fills my senses, the mermaid feels the pull to go home. Into the liquid quiet. Blue tranquility swallows her up, her cathartic release. I feel her frustration become entangled with mine. Instead we stare out to sea, disappearing into the song within our souls.

Do you think driftwood feels the pull of home too? It's fingers were reaching toward the ocean, longing to feel the caress of the waves. Just one more time. Like me.

I'll never know what compels him to hurt me time and time again. I'll never understand why after 12 longs years, he is unable to release me. Does the batterer inside him hunger for control over me still? Does the monster within devour him whole? Do his demons taunt him with how I was able to get away? Do they call him a failure and whisper inventive new ways how to cause me pain through our son?

Why will no one stop him?

The sea gives me no answers. Salty air ruffles the wings. Black feathers floating across the waves.

So today the sun came out but instead of bitter cold, the air was warm. The sea called me home.

For the first time, there were no snow banks to climb. I didn't need gloves. I walked onto the lonesome beach first, my heart becoming lighter with each step. Mussel shells crunched beneath my feet, they are so plentiful it's impossible to avoid crushing them.

This side is never as populated as the other. Just me and the seagulls. I walk across the stream, stopping to listen to the music of the water rippling across the rocks. It's beautiful..peaceful..balm for my stormy spirit. I enjoy every moment.

Before heading home, I travel to the other side of Mira Gut beach. There is a young couple holding hands as they walk their dog. I amble down the boardwalk, marvelling at the huge logs tossed all the way up here from the sea. The waves here seem so small...not mighty enough to hurl such strong logs upon the shore.

A little black and white dog runs up to me, his little face so filled with joy. So pure. Undiluted happiness. I rub his ears and talk to him a bit before thanking his owner for letting me pet him. She smiles and says, "isn't it SUCH a beautiful day?!!". I agree. Wholeheartedly.

A simple shell reminds of all that is lovely and amazing in my life. He can never take that from me. He has stolen pieces of me that I will never get back but he can't take my spirit. My warrior wings. My inner girl who embraces the scars and protects me.

I remember you. Your hand in mine, the way you pulled me close. Your smile, the way your love for me poured out of your eyes. I miss you. I close my eyes against the tears, turn my face to the sun and smile instead.