I bought pink roses today.
Folks that know me know I always try to keep fresh flowers on my kitchen table, and I usually brought fresh flowers to work with me on Mondays.
Flowers represent the miracle of life. Any kind, any color… I love flowers!
(For more beautiful flowers, check out the photographs on the blog entitled dobetteralways.)
I look in the mirror and see a few grey hairs,
lines that weren’t there before,
and the toll that gravity has taken.
In my body, the aches and pains whisper.
Sometimes they scream.
Scars.
Some on the inside…
some without.
And I’m here.
I have breath
and life
and love.
I am grateful.
“A human being is a part of the whole called by us universe, a part limited in time and space. He experiences himself, his thoughts and feeling as something separated from the rest, a kind of optical delusion of his consciousness. This delusion is a kind of prison for us, restricting us to our personal desires and to affection for a few persons nearest to us. Our task must be to free ourselves from this prison by widening our circle of compassion to embrace all living creatures and the whole of nature in its beauty.”
― Albert Einstein
late Middle English: from Old French univers or Latin universum, neuter of universus ‘combined into one, whole’, from uni- ‘one’ + versus ‘turned’ (past participle of vertere).
On this Wisdom Wednesday, I am sharing this beautiful quote that I have heard a multitude of times. In a seminar I attended, the facilitator defined the word Universe as “one song.” We are all connected to everyone and everything… all a part of one song.
Today has been a good day. I’ve spent much of it reading, writing, meditating, and listening to personal growth speakers online. My physical therapist massaged my neck and put ice on my back today… not to mention went easy on me, as I had a couple of rough days on Sunday and Monday. A friend came and cleaned house for me (I pay her, and I’m happy to do it.), and another friend brought us a hot delicious meal. My husband washed dishes and cleaned the kitchen. What more could a girl ask for?
This photograph was taken outside of Turoni’s in Evansville, Indiana. We were attending a surprise birthday party and were surprised with all the snow when we left. Taken with my iPhone 5S. Phoneography Challenge, the Phone as Your Lens. Week 4: Challenger’s Choice: Night Photography.
On October 6, 2011, my father lost his battle with lung cancer. Soon after, my sister’s best friend lost her father to lung cancer as well. The following spring my sister and her friend suggested that we walk in the Fight for Air Walk to raise money for the American Lung Association. My step-father had also been living with COPD for some time so lung disease was profoundly affecting all of us “girls” (all in our 30’s & 40’s). I thought participating in the walk would help my healing process, so I volunteered to captain the team that we named “Daddies’ Girls.”
My step-father continues his struggle with lung disease and Daddies’ Girls continue to walk. This year will be especially important for me. Not only will I be raising money for a good cause and supporting family and friends affected by lung disease, but I will be walking after being in an accident last fall which left me unable to walk on my own for 2 1/2 months due to multiple fractures in my pelvis and a fractured hip. I also had 9 fractured ribs which made breathing difficult.
I am currently receiving physical therapy to regain the strength in my legs, and the mobility in my hip and knee (which was also broken and lacerated). I also had several other injuries that didn’t affect my ability to walk, but have required rest for the healing process. I began walking on my own a couple of weeks ago, and started focusing on this year’s Fight for Air Walk. I am looking forward to being out in the May sunshine, with my “girls” beside me, as I continue doing something that makes a difference.
I walk because I can.
Today, my hubby posted these pictures on his Facebook page with the words “Buh-bye ramp!” I was grateful for my father-in-law’s labor of love (building my wheelchair ramp after my accident) and now it no longer serves me so it is time to let it go.
The day I was cleared to walk, we returned home from the orthopedist and I asked my husband to leave the wheelchair in the trunk of the car. I was grateful for the loaner from my step-father, and I was ready to release it. I returned it rather than bringing it back into the house.
When it no longer served me, I asked my husband to put my walker out in the garage. The same was true for my tub transfer seat. And I recently put my cane out of sight. It isn’t that these things trigger bad memories. I simply want to keep moving forward, and it seems like getting the things that no longer serve me out of my awareness helps me do just that.
Today I finished the process to obtain my coaching certification. I am ecstatic, as this is something I have dreamed of and only recently had the intestinal fortitude to do. I took what could have been a tragedy (traumatic injury) and used it to create something good (Alchemy-turning base metal into gold).
Tomorrow, I embark on a journey I had begun 2 weeks before my accident in November. I planned to optimize my health through an exercise and eating regimen that I abandoned when my accident prompted me to accept meals prepared by caring souls whom I would not ask to meet all of my dietary needs (although they did a great job of keeping me Gluten free). It is time to reinstate my transformation.
I am also happy to celebrate my son-in-law’s 24th birthday. He and my daughter dated for several years before they married in November of 2012. I have watched him grow from an unsure teenager to an admirable young man that I am grateful to have as my daughter’s helpmeet. (My oldest son’s birthday was on Wednesday, making it a week full of celebrations.)
To top the day off, today I was asked to write for an organization I support. I nonchalantly shared my experience with them, and later they asked me if would share my story. I am finally beginning to feel like a real writer, even though I know the only thing necessary for me to be a writer is that I write.
I had a different post planned than the one you are now reading. I have spent some time today reading the writing of fellow bloggers, as I do most every day. It occurred to me that I have gained as much from reading other blogs, as I have from writing my own.
I follow several blogs of differing subject matter. Some of the topics I would not have sought out, but another blogger recommended the read. Sometimes I am led to other bloggers’ sites because they make compelling comments on something else I am reading. At any rate, my horizons are forever broadening.
Even more than reading the work of other bloggers, I have enjoyed connecting with them. I have quoted writers whom I respect and whose work inspires me. I have had some “moments” with other bloggers in the form of shared experiences, stimulating discussions, and giving and receiving sincere compliments. So while I began writing for a variety of reasons, the gratification I get from connecting with other bloggers was a bit of serendipity.
Your children are not your children.
They are the sons and daughters of
Life’s longing for itself.
They come through you but not from you,
And though they are with you yet they
belong not to you.You may give them your love but
not your thoughts,
For they have their own thoughts.
You may house their bodies but
not their souls,
For their souls dwell in the house of
tomorrow, which you cannot visit,
not even in your dreams.
You may strive to be like them,
but seek not to make them like you.
For life goes not backward nor tarries
with yesterday.You are the bows from which your
children as living arrows are sent forth.
The archer sees the mark upon the
path of the infinite, and He bends you
with His might that His arrows may go
swift and far.
Let your bending in the archer’s hand
be for gladness;
For even as He loves the arrow that flies,
so He loves also the bow that is stable.Kahlil Gibran, ‘On Giving,’ The Prophet
On this Wisdom Wednesday, my oldest son celebrates his 25th birthday. A friend and mentor gave me a copy of Kahlil Gibran’s The Prophet several years ago, pointing out the section “On Children” specifically. It echoes much of what I believe about allowing children to be their own persons.
