Morning Blue

The radio calls from across the dark bedroom. It’s just loud enough to break the web of sleep and is carefully set to a station too irritating to ignore. The walk around the bed, the reach for the tiny ‘off’ button is enough to lift me into a new day. Too dark to see the dawn, yet it’s surely on the way. Birds are just beginning, hesitantly, to call.

The seed of a new day is planted each night. I picture myself reaching under the pillow to grasp it, the promise of a new day. There is only one each morning and it is ours to ignore, or use, or waste and throw away. If I remembered more often, that each one is a gift, one of only a limited number, I imagine I’d be wiser with each day.

However, it’s easy to blink through the morning, sigh through the afternoon, and ease into bed at the end wondering what happened to the day. What did happen to the day?

“Pay attention”, said all my teachers, ever. “Pay attention.” I yawn as I stumble through another morning and stand, blinking, for the shower to warm enough to step into. There are only so many rainy afternoons, so many evenings with friends. And, yes, only so many dark and chilly mornings. The question isn’t how many.

The question is, what to do with this gift we are given. What to do with this one day, this one morning, this one minute, this one gift.

UniverseCheck.

Photo Credit: Anita Bowen Photography

 

Moth at Midnight

The full moon lit the hallway at midnight. I was still half asleep when I stepped out into the hall and was groggily surprised to meet a man with a sword. He was side-stepping, cautiously toward the bathroom; I was just thirsty.

And there was my son, looming tall, home for Spring Break, and armed in the middle of the night, laughing quietly.  Of course.

“It’s in there.” He whispers gesturing with, what I see now is, a wooden kitana. The sword, I notice blearily, has been improved with the addition of a ruler attached to the end. It’s clamped to the end of the sword, clamped with a Staples alligator clamp. Of course.image

“It’s really big and it’s so loud.” He grabbed the flexible ruler and twanged it with a sproing sound. “Aren’t you glad you sent me to college?” He laughed.

Okay, I’m barely awake and not prepared for these kind of deep questions. I just want a drink of water. I kind of don’t want to know what’s loud and threatening in the bathroom at midnight. I don’t know what you plan to do with the sproinging Kitana to subdue the invader.image

I decide I’m not equipped to face the upstairs bathroom and whatever has taken up residence and turn to forage downstairs for a drink. It might or might not be water at this point, it’s too weird upstairs.

But, my son keeps laughing quietly as he stalks the bathroom and I see his hand-crafted distance weapon. But, in the other hand, I see a cup. “It’s a bug.” He whispers.

He’s planned ahead. One hand defends himself from the creepy, loud bug; the other hand is for mercy. He intends to catch and release the bug, whatever it is, into the night.image

Aren’t you glad you sent me to college? We both laugh in whispers. I take the cup and he covers me, leaning into the doorway above me. I trap the spooky moth and we release it into the moonlight.

One hand for protection, the other for kindness. Aren’t I glad? Yes, yes I am. Of course.

Toothpaste Expectations

This past week I found myself standing, bewildered, in my local discount pharmacy. Someone has had the temerity to aggressively rearrange and refurbish the whole store without ever asking me.

Gone, is the dim and occasionally flickering light, replaced with bright, white LEDs. Gone, is the friendly collection of commingled out-dated and too early holiday candy and stuffed toys. Their shelf is gone, too. Continue reading “Toothpaste Expectations”

The Trouble with January

I just spent over three weeks feeding the birds. Really.

The various feeders outside my home office window have been swinging empty for way too long.  My desk sits in front of a window that looks onto the flowering cherry in my side yard. The empty feeders hang in its lower branches, framed by the window. I keep meaning to stop at the feed store. Continue reading “The Trouble with January”

Overlook

imageNews from Washington goes from bad to worse.

Our US Constitution, our Air, and Water, and Health and our Lives are under threat, damaged, and broken. And, we are given Alternate Facts, as if repeating lies is the same as the truth.

And, here we are, the road still rises and stretches before us. We can’t know how far it must take us. Let’s remember the importance rest and breath.

Forces of Nature: hurricanes, typhoones, tornadoes, and us, we must make time to inhale before moving mountains.

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Photo Credit: Anita Bowen Photography

Love in this Desert

image“Darkness cannot drive out Darkness;

Only Light can do that.

Hate cannot drive out Hate;

only Love can do that.”

If we can find

Love in Death Valley

surely we can

find Love,

carry Love,

hold tight to Love

and drive out Hate

wherever we walk.

UniverseCheck.

Photo Credit: Anita Bowen Photography, Death Valley, California

Quote: Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. 1957, sermon

Semi-Preparedness

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Finally, we stand numbly at the brink of the end of December. The year of 2016 has lurched, exhausted, to a close.  With a mix of relief and of trepidation I prepare to turn the last calendar page of 2016 to uncover January 2017.  I’m fairly certain, I’m not the only one who feels more than a bit hesitant to let another year in after the chaos we are preparing to sweep out the door. Continue reading “Semi-Preparedness”