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My musings, my rambles and I welcome you. |
   LIVE WITH INTENTION.  WALK TO THE EDGE.  CHOOSE WITH NO REGRETS.. DANCE IN THE LIGHT APPRECIATE MY FAMILY & FRIENDS.  |
| [in Just-] by e.e. cummings in Just- spring when the world is mud- luscious the little lame balloonman whistles far and wee and eddieandbill come running from marbles and piracies and it's spring when the world is puddle-wonderful the queer old balloonman whistles far and wee and bettyandisbel come dancing from hop-scotch and jump-rope and it's spring and the goat-footed balloonMan whistles far and wee I love this poem because the imagery in the poem is so vivid and magical. I picture a man hobbling down the street with his balloons to sell calling children with his recognizable whistle. A neighborhood (world) that is mud-luscious and puddle-wonderful. Can you not hear the kids splashing puddles as they run to meet him? When I read this work, I realize the physical words of the poem can help tell the story. The placement of the words on the page can set the tone. Far and wee is the sound the whistle makes. I can hear a low sound but a long sound from how the words are place. And can you not picture two out of breath boys (eddieandbill) trying to catch the balloonman? The whole poem is fun and magical and it's spring on paper. I wrote several poem in the e.e. cummings style. I hope I did him proud. "Hope"  |
| A myth... is a metaphor for a mystery beyond human comprehension. It is a comparison that helps us understand, by analogy, some aspect of our mysterious selves. A myth, in this way of thinking, is not an untruth but a way of reaching a profound truth.” ~Christopher Vogler Do you agree or disagree? What's your favorite myth? Love Brings Whirling, swirling, so goes life. As Sisyphus rolls his rock toward the abyss, Man's unending falling Into a darkness complete Faces, voices, life gone by. Passions dried, but not the tears; heartbreaking, framing withering tears Sweetly sipped, from another's lips, only Love breaks through bringing Man hope, light, life back from the edge. My favorite myth is Sisyphus. Well, maybe not favorite but one that I understand. It's real life. Sisyphus is the king of Ephya. He promotes navigation and commerce so he is a good guy. But wait, he kills travelers and guests so he is a bad guy. Sisyphus is also sly, charming and cunning. He annoyed Zeus by betraying one of the god's secrets to a river god for a mountain spring. Killing guests breaks hospitality laws of Zeus so he orders Death (or Hades depending on your version) to put Sisyphus in chains in Tartarus. The king talked Death into putting the chains on himself, you know to see how they worked. No one could die until Death was freed. In another story Sisyphus tricks the Queen of the Dead Persephone into letting him leave the Underworld. He convinced her he was there by mistake. For his hubris of believing he was smarter than the gods, Zeus has Sisyphus rolling a rock up a hill only to have it roll back down before he can complete the task. Unending frustration and wasted effort is his hell for his clever mind. I believe that Mr. Vogler is right that myth is metaphor for human mysteries. As for Sisyphus, the mystery is why would a king with so many gifts (a rich country, a family, a clever mind and a charming way) throw it all away? Why break the laws of basic decency? How did he come to believe that he was better or smarter than the gods? Why do we? |
| Prompt: What is your favorite Christmas story to tell on Christmas Eve? If you don't have a favorite Christmas story write Christmas story. What was he doing behind Santa's sleigh? And heading toward North America, how did that happen, wondered Ronald. Assembling the team was one of his Christmas Eve chores. His ears twitched with worry when he saw his mother enter the hanger instead of Santa. “Ronnie, your Dad is ill and can’t fly tonight. Doctors orders.” “Can’t fly? It’s Christmas Eve.” “I know son, and all those children counting on us, on you. Here’s your dad’s ring. Wear it in his honor.” “In his honor? How sick is he? Is he going to die? Can I see him? I thought he, we were immortals.” “Calm down Ronnie. The doctor just wants him to rest. As to being immortal, maybe he doesn’t need to be with all his sons now in place. Finish up so you can get started. I know you are going to make us both proud.” She opened her arms for a hug. He wasn’t so sure of that, but hugged his mom anyway. When she broke the hold, he could see the worry lines on her face. I don’t know whether I’m the cause of those or Dad and I not sure what I hope the answer is, thought Ronald. As his mom left the hanger, he heard ”Ahem” Ronald looked down to see the elf assigned as his crew chief. “Could we go over your final checklists now?” “Sure. Let me find the clipboards. I’m sure they’re here somewhere.” *********************************************************************************************************************************** Ronald hoped that the reindeer knew where they were going. And that the elves assigned to help him couldn't see how his hands shook holding the reins. It was one thing to ride with Dad these past 90 years, but to actually take the route made Ronald's hands shake harder. Fortunately, it was only the North American route he had to cover. His brothers were already covering their own well established territories. Michael was Father Christmas in Great Britain, Joel, Pere Noel in France, Herman, Christindl in Germany and so on. They promised to help if Ronald got behind. He needed to do this on his own if only to prove he was more than the only screw-up in a large prefect family. Christmas just wasn’t Christmas without a good naturally brotherly ribbing about his latest mishap. Like the time he was very young, just 30, and took the reindeer for a joy ride while Dad was putting toys under a child’s tree. Ronald nearly fell out of the sleigh when his dad appeared behind him. Or the time the he was in charge of the flying team. He started them on a new and improved feed corn days before Christmas. Unfortunately, the feed didn’t agree with the reindeer and the secondary team had to be used. The team, composed of a motley crew of retired veterans and tyros, made for a wild ride that year. The jokes seemed never ending especially from his brothers. Every year he got better at the route, but Ronald dreaded the day his dad would hand over the reins. Last year, he forgot the Naughty and Nice list. “I thought that was the elves’ job.” “It’s your job to oversee the operation,” Ronald saw the disappointment in his father’s eyes. ************************************************************************************************************* "Okay Santa, here we are at the first house," said Dash bringing Ronald back to the present. "Don't call me that. That's Dad's name!" The elf looked up from the list that he held. "Santa is the office. Kris is your Dad's name as in Kris Kringle." "Tonight you are Santa, Ronald. Don't worry. We'll help and after the first house it gets easier." said Dot who was loading the knapsack. "Look, guys. I've ridden with Dad lots of times, but I don't know all of this really works. When I would ask, he just said magic. How do I go down the chimneys and get back up without being seen? How do I know what to leave? What about alarms? What if someone sees me? "Ronald's words came out in a rush. The elves looked at each other concerned and then turned to Ronald. Dash, the more experienced elf, asked," Did your Dad give you a ring tonight? It has a star on it." "Actually Mom gave it to me. She said to wear it tonight in honor of Dad." He held out his right hand and the elves saw a large ring with a bright green stone that shined like as a star. Both elves let out a sigh of relief. "It's alright then," said Dash. "The ring is the source of Santa's magic. It was given to him by Mother Nature when he took office. Transports you from the roof to the Christmas tree. Going down chimneys is a myth. Makes you invisible when you need to be. Lets you walk through wall. " "Although, some children, who are true believers, will see through the invisibility." said Dot.”I got your knapsack packed. Ready for your first house?" "As ready as I can be. How do you start this thing?" Ronald said nodding toward the ring. "Uh...I don't know," said Dot. "Dash?" "We're just the delivery boys, not Santa. He never told you in all those ride?" Ronald thought about it. Santa always twisted the ring and smiled and disappeared before his eyes. "Maybe he thinks about getting by the tree after he twists the ring." he told the elves. "Try it now. We're running behind," urged Dash. Ronald gave the ring a nervous twist and put on a tight smile and disappeared. The Christmas tree glowed with a familiar light. "Ronald! What in the Name of Mother Nature are you doing back here!" thundered Santa. Sitting in his favorite chair by the fire, he looked anything but sick. Ronald was too surprised to be in his own home to notice. "Dad! I twisted the ring, smiled and ended up back here! he cried. "I don't know what happened." "Did you say the child's name?" his dad asked. "I didn't know that part of it." Ronald said lowering his eyes. "It's okay son. My fault. I forgot to tell you and the elves. Just say the name of the child or the place where you want to be after twisting the ring. Now say sleigh and get out here!" Still in a bit of shock, Ronald did what he was told and found himself on the same roof with Dash and Dot. "Well let’s get this show on the road." said Ronald to the relieved elves. "I need the name of the child we are visiting tonight." "Shondra Marks, Santa." promptly replied Dash keeper of the list. "Okay, here we go," said Ronald as he twisted his ring then whispered the name. His smile was weak, but a small twinkle lit his eyes. With hardly time to finish whispering her name, he appeared next to Shondra's tree. Unloading the gifts turned out to be easy as Dot had only put into the knapsack what he needed. It all took less time than he expected. Before he could say Hot Chocolate, he was on to the next house. And so it went. Ronald popped into a house by the Christmas tree, delivered the presents, ate a cookie, drank some milk and popped back up to the sled for the next house. "Santa, I wrote a list, but I don't want anything on it now." said a teary girl named Katelyn. "My daddy is out of work and needs a job. Can you get him a job? Please. He works on car and trucks. Daddy says you can't help us, but I know you can." Her face was resolute. Surprised, Ronald dropped his bag when the little girl spoke to him. He listened to the girl talk and tried to think of a solution. Maybe Dad can help her later," mused Ronald. "I'll do what I can,” he said gently. "Now it’s time to get into bed." “Hey Dash, what does Dad do when a child asks for something in the middle of the night?” Ronald inquired after he got back to the sleigh. “I suppose it depends on what the child wants. If it’s a toy, we try to accommodate them. If it’s something like world peace, well that’s something humans have to work out themselves.” “And if it’s a job for a parent?” “I’m not sure, but he always seems to know what to do.” Ronald sighed. That answer wasn’t much help. He didn’t have the experience yet for this job. As the night went on, Ronald grew more confident. He was in and out most homes almost at his Dad’s speed according to the elves. Dogs either ignored him or shared his plate of cookies. They seem to realize he was not there to rob the house. He talked to two more children who waited up for him, but their requests were not as serious as Katelyn’s. She remained on his mind for the rest of the trip. “This is the last house here, and then we move onto California,” said Dot the navigator. “It should be easier there. Not so many children believe in Santa in that state.” “Seems sad,” said Ronald before he disappeared. When he arrived at the Christmas tree, he found a weary father was putting together a bicycle. "I'm so tired from all the overtime at the shop. Now it’s Christmas Eve and I'm seeing things," mumbled a bleary-eyed father. By now Ronald had better idea of how his ring worked. He twisted it and whispered fix bicycle. The tired father jumped back as the bike assembled itself. "Hey Santa, you wouldn't happen to have an auto mechanic in your bag would you? My shop is overflowing with work and no competent help," said the tired dad. Ronald smiled and melted before his surprised eyes. The dad would find a note in his stocking with the phone number of Katelyn’s dad. The first fingers of dawn were lighting the sky when Ronald turned the sleight North. Dot and Dash exhausted from the night labors, snored in the back seat. Finished on time without my brother's help, Ronald thought. And Dad will have a new story to tell. I really surprised him at the fireplace. But Dad didn’t tell stories, he continued his musings. The elves told the stories and his brothers made the jokes especially his eldest brothers Herman and Nick who covered Turkey and parts of the Middle East. Dad made them stop the reindeer poop jokes after the feed corn disaster. And he insisted I continue to ride with him, even during my rebellious 30’s. Dad has always been on my side, Ronald marveled. “Getting sick on Christmas Eve my asteroid! Pushing me out of the nest is more Dad's speed. I can't wait to thank him." Ronald’s grateful laugh woke the elves as they were making the final turn toward home. |
| Day 730: Monday, November 17, 2014 Prompt: What does getting old mean to you? Write a story, write a poem, write a rant; whichever you want.. If only I were prettier. If only I were smarter. If only I could talk easier to friends as well as strangers. If only I were closer to God. If only He were closer to me. Somewhere we could meet and I could say the sorrow that I feel is more than superficial If only Love and friendship were easier for me, not mysteries and miseries of heartache. From missteps and blunders of trying too hard or not enough. If only the fantasies of my mind were not easier to find than the real world. If only real world was not so real nor so harsh and retreat not so easy. If only the words came as easily as the tears. Regret sits in my heart and will not be moved. If only I knew then what I know now, so much could be avoided or is this inevitable? This middle age lament? |
| Prompt: Happy Halloween, Happy All Hallow's Eve, Happy All Saint's Eve, Samhain or Calan Gaeaf What traditions or customs exist where you ? Is there mumming and guising? Is there trick or treating? Are there festivals? Do you see this as a Pagan celebration? If you live where this is not celebrated is this custom similar to this that you would like to share. I posted this entry 5 years ago and my view have not changed except that C.S. Lewis and Screwtape have become a little tradition. How do you celebrate Halloween? This time of year is always full of seasonal pleasures: apple cider, cooler weather, bluer skies and little kids in costumes The question is do you celebrate Halloween? My own history with the holiday (is it a holiday?) is sporadic and not the norm so my views are a little skewed. But they are mine and I hope to learn of others. I grew up not really celebrating Halloween. My parents had no religious reasons, but rather, safety issues. I grew up in a neighborhood that was poor and unsafe for trick or treats. And my Mom didn't have time, money or energy to waste on the day. We usually got treats at school. If there was money, we got had cider, donuts and whatever candy had been on sale at K-mart. Dressing up in costumes would have been pointless and expensive. As I got older, I put the day aside as a day for kids. It wasn't something I thought about. I was working, in school and getting out poverty. When I became I Christian, Halloween took on a whole new context. There seem to be two camps of thought about the day. 1. It was an evil day. Witches, ghost and monsters symbolize Halloween and are creatures of evil. We shouldn't have anything to do with it. 2. It's a harmless day of fun for kids. What's wrong with letting them dress up, eat candy and play Now those arguments are very simplified. I know somewhere there is evidence for both sides. Personally, I believe that everyday belongs to the Lord. There are no evil days. "This is the day that the Lord has made. Let us rejoice and be glad." Psalm 118:24 And yet, Halloween in recent years concerns me. The recent rise in popularity of witches, vampires and zombies is enough to give me pause. Harry Potter made witchcraft not just for housewives. (Sorry Bewitched fans.) Vampires have always been sexy. Dracula has been played by many gorgeous guys. Frank Langella in Dracula and Chris Sarandon in Fright Night were two of my favorites. The Twilight series brought a tween level of sexiness to the garlic haters. Zombies are so hot that they have made their way into such classics as Pride and Prejudice. The thing is Halloween makes evil things to be cute or good. If evil is cute, then it is dangerous. Face it, anything or anybody that wants to suck your blood, your life source, is evil. (vampires) Anything that wants to eat your flesh is evil.(zombies) Anyone with power that does not come from God comes from someone or something else. (witches) Where is this going? I dunno. It's my blog and I can ramble if I want. I guess I am just a little perplexed at the rise of the heroes formerly known as monsters. "C.S. Lewis said, "There are two equal and opposite errors into which our race can fall about the devils. One is to disbelieve in their existence. The other is to believe, and to feel an excessive and unhealthy interest in them. They themselves are equally pleased by both errors and hail a materialist or a magician with the same delight." I'm glad I never had to decide as a parent what to do about Halloween. As a Christian, it’s easy to fall into the extremes as Lewis points out. So I think this season I'm going to reread "The Screwtape Letters" by Lewis. It is a series of letters from a senior demon to an underling about how to tempt and control his "patient." Patient is the demon's word for mortal men and women. Lewis had some wonderful things to say about Christianity and our culture. It seems appropriate, for the season, to be reading about demons. *Wink* Now, like Charlie Brown, awaiting your rocks. Lani |
| May 14, 2014 prompt: Finish this sentence ten different ways: Live is fragile handle with I started writing and with several graduations and weddings coming up this letter seemed the best way to finish the sentences. My darling girl On the eve of you going out into the world, please let me give you some advice. It's not the wishy-washy nonsense one normally hears at graduations, but words of wisdom gained by someone in the trenches. The phrase "Life is fragile handle with prayer," is cliché` and almost meaningless. Life needs prayer but not with good vibrations sent out to the harmless universe. Real prayer is impactful, meaningful and changes not God or your circumstances but you so that God can use you in those circumstances. Pray mindfully. Life is fragile handle it with love. Not romantic, sappy love my darling, but real LOVE. Love is an action word. Love commits, embraces and in one of its most surprising forms is tough. Don't be afraid to love with actions as well as words. Life is fragile handle with tact. Political correctness makes everyone afraid to say what needs to be said. An' in your face' attitude will put people off and throw up walls. Tact finds a way to say what needs to be said without bruising feelings or egos. A very hard lesson my darling that I am still learning. Circumstances sometimes will just suck. There is no other way to say it. At times, it may be your fault, other times it may not. Do what you can to change what you can, pray and then let go. Life is fragile handle with faith. Trust that "all works together for good for those who love the Lord.." It is good not to be in charge of everything at all times. And if circumstances are sucky remember your purpose and your integrity. Ambition is a fine thing but it may not be your purpose for being on this earth. Jobs are not purpose. Life is fragile handle with purpose. On the way to finding your purpose, using your ambition, don't forget your integrity. Doing the right thing at the right time for the right reason is difficult. Regret is a bitch to live with so don't let your ambition ride over your integrity. Life is hard handle with integrity. What's next on the list, my sweet girl? Respect. Life is fragile handle with respect. How do you respect life? By treating everyone fairly. The golden rule of "do unto others.." is not a bad way to make your way in the world. Life is fragile handle with forgiveness. It paves the way for new beginnings. Forgiveness is hard to give and even harder to receive. Oh Sweet one, this is one of the most difficult lessons to learn and yet if you can you will have a life free of regret. A thousand million billon cells, chemical and circumstances have come together to make you who you are. No one has seen exactly what you have seen or been exactly where you have been. You are unique. Your life is precious. That statement alone deserves your wonder and awe. Life is fragile handle with awe. Sorry the wishy- washyness snuck on me. This is getting way too serious. Life is fragile handle with humor. Life is too short, too uncertain not to laugh when you get the chance. Laughter will lighten most loads life throws at us. A smile will lift spirits: yours and whoever you meet. So what am I saying my darling girl? I am saying that life can be hard. It can be dirty and unfair. It can be soul crushing at times. And yet, with Love, Prayer, Faith, Purpose, Integrity, Tact, Respect, Forgiveness, Humor and Awe can it a life worth living. Live well From your Aunt Lani Lani Lani |
| I know the cure for everything: salt water…in one way other. Sweat or tears, or the salt sea. Karen Blixen author of Out of Africa. Honest tears are cleansing whether they are happy or sad. Today is Easter. It is the day we celebrate the Resurrection. Unspeakable despair and heartbreak of Saturday in the tomb gives way to the joy of a Living Hope and Light of Sunday. Tears are appropriate for both occasions. Happy Easter to all. |
| Prompt: In your opinion, what is the most disrespectful thing anyone could ever do to you? I think the most disrespectful thing that anyone could do to me is to not listen to me when I am speaking. Others may not agree with what I am saying. That’s okay. I just want the courtesy of their full attention. How do they know I’m full of st—uff if they don’t listen. Talking around me, shutting down or interrupting really pisses me off. I have spent too many years in prayer and therapy to find my voice to be made invisible by rudeness and unkindness. I will be the first to admit that not every word from my mouth is a golden nugget or that I can wander away from a topic into rabbit trails. And I know the irony of an ADDer saying “Pay attention.” I am better than I used to be but sometimes….. However did you know eye rolling, sighing and arm crossing make a particularly loud and lonely sound in the heart? Its’ something I try to remember but not always successfully. Enuff said |
| Message in a bottle The bottle was ordinary glass and in the shape of an old soft drink. I found it bobbing along in the surf. Clearly the bottle had been in the currents a long time as the drink’s name was almost smoothed out. Hmm. A note inside the bottle with a cork stopper? How cliché. Do I read it or toss the bottle in the recycle bin? The bottle is old and the notepaper looks faded. Whoever wrote the message has probably been “rescued” or had their laugh. I dunno. I guess I’m not as romantic as I thought I was or have been. The idea of someone sending a message like “Help, I’m trapped on a desert island”, seems farfetched. GPS not to mention worldwide communication toys are everywhere. “Not likely,” is what I think. Of course, someone could be studying the currents and tide. That person might like to know that his bottle ended up here in my little section of the Low Country. If the study is still going on now. I almost toss the bottle into the bin when a little girl runs up to me. She is about nine years old and dressed for a blustery day at the beach. “Are you going to open it?” she asks breathlessly. I smile at her question. I offer her the bottle. “Would you like to? “You found it. You should open it.” She replied. “Okay.” I remove the cork and drop the note into her waiting hands. I can see the excitement on her face as she read the words. “You’ve won three wishes!” she shouts. “You can have them,” I tell her as I start to walk away. “I don’t think it works like that,” she says with a pout. “You found the bottle, you opened it, and they ‘re your wishes.” I take the note from her and it reads: “To the bearer of this note, three wishes will be granted. Just say your desires out loud to receive.” No company logo, no ads just simple handwritten script. As I flip the note over and look at the paper, the little girl says “See, all yours. What will you wish for?” “I dunno. I need to think about it.” I hear a voice in the distance. “Damn, it’s my mom. Gotta go. Wish for something good,” she says and starts to run toward a small figure on the horizon. Wish for something good. What would a nine year old consider good I wonder. “A day on a Hawaiian beach verses this in like Lamb out like Lion March weather would be good,” I think to myself. To be thinner would be nice. And to be a better writer would be awesome. These are the things that run through my brain. I shake my head ruefully. Wishes that are self-centered and obtainable with just a little effort on my part. I don’t need these wishes or this bottle. I replace the note and cork. With a might heave, I toss the bottle just past the surf. Maybe my little friend will find it next time. What was her name? Meanwhile further up the beach: “She threw the lure back. We cannot ensnare her now,” says the second in command of the mission. He is speaking to his commander who is now morphing back into his original form. The nine year girl disguise has worked well in the past but not today. “I suppose we cannot expect everyone on this miserable planet to be selfish,” he replies “Set the trap up for someone else.” The troll for souls never ends. |
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