Reflections...

I find myself in circumstances unexpected, at the very least.
Plucked from my normal life and not even able to recall all of my recent days past...

I know that I am loved and I am on the edge of feeling safe once more, in my health.

My mind, not sure which way to turn... being eternally grateful, would be a start and should be the mainstay of my existence.
But, I am so human!  Not only frail of body with the assaults that it may encounter on this tricky planet, full of exposures for any weakened system; but human and frail in my mind, in my thoughts and needs.

Not having my normal life (although having life at all has been a huge gift that was restored to me after a very close call) can make me sad, confused, out of control and longing for where I was before I fell.

Why do we always need more than we have, when having anything at all is a blessing?

SIX SENTENCE SUNDAY...

To loosen my boundaries would expand my world...to lose them would be freedom!

The tick of the clock sounds so innocent, yet each mark is the sound of the death's encroachment.

Fall has begun, it is my most blessed season.

Escaping the summer's sun, we march toward the winter queen, whose icy grip will ensnare the warmth of the world.

No mantra is required, as we stare into a fire...

Love keeps us hopeful, fresh and dreaming of the sweetest future imaginable!

Have a blessed Sunday, take a moment and relax, refresh and enjoy...don't let it pass you by unnoticed!

Equilibrium

Psychedelic water reflections, high on shaggy palms
Squardons of dragonflies blasting brilliant clouds

Quick shadows form fronds with the sun's light on the orange cushion
Submerged

Yet Floating
Carried away in time and space

Not even the sound of my own heart beating

I exsist only on an inhale

Drunken...
Off-center...
Weightless...

My mind floats away on a billow against such a bright blue

Escape...
Peace...
Close your eyes

Drift away...

It's Long Road, But Don't Walk Too Fast!

Feet on the Ground, not in it...

Strolling around my olde' town, I stopped today near a place that I have traveled past for years.  I even remembered that as a young teenager, I pushed the pedals with much more energy... as to not slow down near here!  

It is actually a pretty patch of land with lovely, windswept trees that sometimes together with the sun create lace patterns on the grasses of the glaring white, bleached tombstones.  I have decided that this is a perfect to place to walk on a bad day...

For here there is no bad day.  

People come and go, life in all of it's joy and chaos continues.  We are merely a blip on the screen of a universe so vast and incomprehensible that our problems are truly microscopic.  All that means is, everything, the gusto of your life, is how you carry yourself in any given second; for the next second may not be held for your existence!

It is very hushed in this space, the markings are old and tell tales of people who once were.  I breath in and push my feet across this shroud of green turf  in order that I might return to my "bad" day.  And in this day I have gained a bit of clear insight, that it just ain't so bad after all...  

To run free is an amazing gift!

Our spirits are harnessed by nature to an "earthbound" gravity, filled with the absolute weight of the world.

Let go of all that holds you down...

and give your spirit a chance to soar.

Be exceptional and free if only for a moment...

you have that power within you!

Let this be the most important gift that can you give yourself...

Rachel and Cheryl.... two of the best people I know!

Six Sentence Sunday is in dedication to these two strong and amazing women...

Unconditional love, in an conditional world is an exceptional achievement.

Celebrate your soul mate, as no other human being will ever understand or admire your spirit more... !

You can never push away the one you truly love (and who loves you), no matter what hell you try to create; they will never give up or walk away, they will just fight harder to stay.

In my life, just short of loved ones and special friends, coffee, chocolate and a mountain or ocean view are the best things that I can hope to have in my ordinary day.

People are in fear of what they cannot relate to or do not understand.

Keep your faith and let the light shine on your face, as you must believe that you are truly amazing!

Love to my friends,  Julie

THE LAST MORNING GLORY...

Life has been hectic, but good!

Trips out of town, new grandchildren, camping with friends...  All of those things squeezed in alongside a heavy work schedule, my new health regime and trying to get my house in order has not left me a great deal of time for the things that make me, ME!

I am proud and happy except for the things undone, like my poor, pathetic yard.  Grass rag-tag and tattered with sticks and wild weeds.  I really call them wild flowers, but who am I kidding?  I tell myself, everyday as I climb into my car, "the insects love you, look at all of the blooms"!  They are buzzing with activity and I feel like I have allowed nature to be itself, showing it's finest before the dead of winter!  My mess is part of the universe in it's most pure form.  (I am really good at convincing myself that my slack can somehow equal good on some astral or karmic level).

Yesterday, as I was bending for the morning A.I.S (ass in seat) departure, I looked over and saw it!  One of my favorites...and they do so truly touch my heart.  I do not know if it is the color, which I love, the frailty or strength that they represent to me, or if it is just the light that shines from within them as they greet a new morning.

I dearly love my morning glories!

I jerked to a stop and halted my hasty, forward movements in order to do the most important thing... I snapped a few quick pictures as a farewell to the flowers.  I smiled and knew that next year they would be back to greet me along with a new summer sky...  

And for just a moment, I knew that it was time to stop and notice the last morning glory!

“A morning glory at my window satisfies me more than the metaphysics of books.”

― Walt Whitman