Summer's End

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Life's Inspirational Valiant Endeavors

~ Summer's End ~

"We carry within us all the wonders we seek without."  ~ Sir Thomas Browne

  

Summer's end always sets me on a familiar path; tender shoots of late summer grass beneath my feet, sunlight that plays on my face and warms my toes, cool breezes dancing through the trees, fire smoke on the air, and the promise of time to come shared with friends and family. Already well acquainted with autumn's glory, though having grown unaccustomed these last miserably hot months spent indoors; still the question is raised in my mind... am I living a meaningful life? If I am to believe 'to everything there is a season' then why do I always find myself contemplating my failures, rather than applauding my successes?

I, in fact, did plant my garden this summer... only to stand by, feeling incredibly lazy in my helplessness, as the fruits of my labor shriveled in the harshest drought these parts have seen in a long time. (Fail.) 

I did weep over my losses, and mourned as long as mourning was acceptable in the normal order of things. (Success?)

 I did refrain from smothering embracing my children when my needs exceeded their own. (No wait. I got this one. Suc-cess!... *High fives everyone.* I think.)

I do did, I occasionally, inflict self-loathing onto my sometimes delicate voracious psyche. 

(I suck.)

And I did, in fact, not speak when I should have cried out from the top of a mountain. I may have taken some liberties with this one a bit. Though still true. (Complete and utter failure.) 

I suppose one could argue (me) that I did, in theory, succeed at something. I did contemplate my failures, while at the same time basking in my success(es)... that I had, at the very least, truly contemplated my failures. So there's that.

"A time for every purpose under the sun" right? Perhaps the answer, interwoven deep within these failures of mine, is where I will triumph at last. At the moment, I think I may have forgotten what I have failed and or succeeded in to begin with. So the point is moot.

***

To everything there is a season,

a time for every purpose under the sun.

A time to be born and a time to die;

a time to plant and a time to pluck up that which is planted;

a time to kill and a time to heal...

a time to weep and a time to laugh;

a time to mourn and a time to dance...

a time to embrace and a time to refrain from embracing;

a time to lose and a time to seek;

a time to rend and a time to sew;

a time to keep silent and a time to speak;

a time to love and a time to hate;

a time for war and a time for peace.

~ Ecclesiastes 3:1-8 ~

 ***

A meaningful life? 

Ahhh, September! 

How do I love thee? 

Let me count the ways.

Rest is not idleness, and to lie sometimes on the grass on a summer day listening to the murmur of water, or watching the clouds float across the sky, is hardly a waste of time. ~John Lubbock

  ***

On a good day, a day like any other, a day when searching for and accepting balance into my life is my heart and mind's sole purpose; I suppose that is a day lived in the pursuit of meaning. That is a day when love and wisdom take charge, watching over my successes and correcting my failures. And that is more than 'good enough'. That is a force for good. Though it always helps to be reminded, every once in a while. We learn through repetition, after all. And it all started...

Well, very close to kindergarten.

"All I Really Need To Know I Learned In Kindergarten"

~ Uncommon Thoughts on Common Things ~ 

By Robert Fulghum

"All I Really Need To Know about how to live and what to do and how to be 

I learned in kindergarten. 

Wisdom was not at the top of the graduate-school mountain, 

but there in the sandpile at Sunday School. These are the things I learned:

Share everything.

Play fair.

Don't hit people.

Put things back where you found them.

Clean up your own mess.

Don't take things that aren't yours.

Say you're sorry when you hurt somebody.

Wash your hands before you eat.

Flush.

Warm cookies and cold milk are good for you.

Live a balanced life ~

...learn some and think some

and draw and paint and sing and dance and play

and work every day some.

Take a nap every afternoon.

When you go out into the world,

watch out for traffic, hold hands, and stick together.

Be aware of wonder.

Remember the little seed in the Styrofoam cup:

The roots go down and the plant goes up

and nobody really knows how or why, but we are all like that.

Goldfish and hamsters and white mice

and even the little seed in the Styrofoam cup ~ they all die.

So do we.

And then remember the Dick-and-Jane books

and the first word you learned ~

the biggest word of all...

LOOK.

Everything you need to know is in there somewhere. 

The Golden Rule and love and basic sanitation. 

Ecology and politics and equality and sane living.

And it is still true,

no matter how old you are ~

when you go out into the world,

it is best to hold hands and stick together."

Love My Friends

... and happy learning!

“The best way out is always through.”

~ Robert Frost

 

Speak

... and you will be heard.

For my friend.

Love! and Peace.

Part II
Part III
Part IV
Part V
Part VI
Part VII
Part VIII
Part IX
Part X

~ Sexual Assault Awareness Month ~

*Life is in the journey!* ~ The Wings of Life

♥

Life's Inspirational Valiant Endeavors

~ The Wings of Life ~

 

 

 

 

"A Love Story That Feeds The Earth"

We, in our attempts to keep our children safe, 

our own bodies relatively free of painful venom and mad dashes to the ER, 

our lawns immaculate,

and our homes, literally, from falling in around us,

have become accustomed to guilt-free, justifiable extermination.

 

I will be the first to admit,

 my number one priority on my Spring Cleaning list is 

to stock up on Wasp, Hornet and Ant spray!

There is no love lost there, nor really, blink of an eye. 

I'll step over an ant hill in my front yard...

"Live and Let Live", I preach to my kids,

taking a knee for further investigation and awe.

I'll shoo a wasp out the back rather than swat them into oblivion

as they stumble indoors, effectively dazed from the Spring thaw.

I'll even show the appropriate amount of respect for the tenacity of a yellow jacket,

having arrived at the watering can first, waiting patiently for him to move on.

But...

(and Behold the Underlying Truth)

 by the time the dog days of Summer arrive

and the little tiny ant army has set up camp on my kitchen counters,

and those confused little wasps have begun an all out attack

on any human body part waving about the water's edge of our pool...

and that lone, thirsty, insignificant little yellow jacket

has laid claim to that hole in the ground beneath the Redbud tree,

all jacked up on hummingbird nectar 

and hanging out on the corner with his no good warrior-ing friends...

Well then, the kid gloves come off!

 

Even those pesky little honey bees are obnoxious

with their cute little fuzzy butt stingers,

 and their super sweet golden honey,

and their unnaturally industrious work habits.

 

I mean, whichever one of those little over-achievers

 came up with the genius marketing ploy 

to Save The Earth One Flower At a Time...

well, maybe they should rethink their strategy of World Domination.

  

Who needs flowers anyway?

And all-natural sugar in a cute little plastic bear... who needs that?

And pollination, 

And protecting 1/3 of our world community's food resources...

Yeah. Who needs that? 

 

Why should I have to wear shoes in my own backyard?

I'm hopscotching my way, barefooted, around the clover

to get to the clothes line and the garden and the mailbox!

It's a wee bit ridiculous, don't ya think, 

worrying over mowing twice a week,

and all to save the cute little bees and the cute little environment?

Who needs the environment?

Ummmm... yeah.

 

I'm having to think twice about spraying my roses and my lawn with pesticides.

And now, 

in addition to feeding the hummingbirds and songbirds, 

and keeping the squirrels busy with ears of corn on a stick,

I have to be picky about the plants I choose to plant in my flower garden.

Why should I care about planting 

to conserve our water resources or feeding the starving bees? 

It's just not right.

Right?

 

Now... C'mon.

( I remind my bad habits, my melodramatic tendencies, my inborn traditions...)

Where's the love for our planet, for our future?

Seriously, how hard can it be 

(pun intended)

to pour a little milk on your roses to cure black rot and other mildew,

or soapy dish water on aphids and Japanese beetles and slugs and spider mites,

or to simply ask to see the *Native* flowers section in your local nursery

to cut down on the need for watering, 

while also providing the most beneficial flowers for your bees?

Where's the hard in that?

 

We can all stand to take a closer look this year at how we're harming... or helping.

The simple truth is... 

We *Need* Bees

and

Bees *Need* We... The People!

So, look into your heart and your garden sprays

and see what you can do about saving the little Bees knees!

 

Want to Build a Bee House?

 

Want to Plant for Pollinators?

 

Want to join your world community in doing your share?

Well then, take a look at:

 

The White House

'Do It Yourself Pest Control'

 

Louie Schwartzberg,

the award-winning, cinematographer, director and producer of 

"Wings of Life"

and see what he has to say about "rediscovering your sense of wonder".

     

And when you've found it...

Don't stop there. Please. 

What's "Easy", isn't always what's Right.

*YOU* 

Can make a difference!

Wisdom, Honor & Passion 

My Friends!


"The best way out is always through."
~ Robert Frost ~

 

 

*Life is in the journey!* ~ Poetry In Motion

♥

Life's Inspirational Valiant Endeavors

~ Poetry In Motion ~

A Brave and Startling Truth

We, unaccustomed to courage exiles from delight
live coiled in shells of loneliness
until love leaves its high holy temple
and comes into our sight
to liberate us into life.

If we are bold, love strikes away the chains of fear from our souls.

Love costs all we are and will ever be.
Yet it is only love which sets us free.
A Brave and Startling Truth.

It is possible and imperative that we discover
A brave and startling truth.

When we come to it
We, this people, on this wayward, floating body
Created on this earth, of this earth
Have the power to fashion for this earth
A climate where every man and every woman
Can live freely without sanctimonious piety
And without crippling fear

When we come to it
We must confess that we are the possible
We are the miraculous, the true wonders of this world
That is when, and only when
We come to it. 

~ Dr. Maya Angelou ~

Dr. Maya Angelou will celebrate her 84th birthday 

on April 4th, 2012. 

A woman of great wisdom, beauty and courage, 

she is a most beloved poet and spiritual teacher of

love, family, humanity, hope, peace, and joy;

she who believes... 

"One isn't necessarily born with courage, but one is born with potential. 

Without courage, we cannot practice any other virtue with consistency. 

We can't be kind, true, merciful, generous, or honest."

Her triumphs make me proud, 

her beginnings bring tears to my eyes, 

but it is the resounding spiritual vibration of her voice 

carried through to the center of my being 

which stirs my soul.

True poetry in motion. 

"We have to cease the polarization and include ourselves. 

If somebody draws a line, a circle

and it excludes you...

You draw a bigger circle

and you include him."

Join Maya's Email List

Courage My Friends!
"A bird doesn't sing because it has an answer,
it sings because it has a song."
~ Dr. Maya Angelou ~




"The best way out is always through."
~ Robert Frost ~

*Life is in the journey!* ~ These Boots

♥

  Life's Inspirational Valiant Endeavors

~ These Boots ~

Around these parts people know our place as, Barefoot Acres. It’s a little bit o’ land, barely five acres if you count the parts that serve as playground to the deer, squirrels, birds, and a mess of kids let loose to scout for trails, tramp through the creek, and swing like the von Trapps from the trees. You won’t find a nicely manicured lawn or meticulously landscaped trees and shrubs here on our place. Wildflowers, cedar saplings and the occasional ant hill pop up where the tractor doesn’t reach, and like I holler back to my husband when he’s called out of the garage to see what the ruckus is all about, “I swear, that damn rock wasn’t there yesterday!” It’ll never make the cover of Better Homes and Gardens, but it is (almost) perfect in our eyes.

When I was little we moved *a lot*, but Kentucky, the place where I was born, and more specifically, my grandparent’s small farm just outside of Bardstown was always home base. I’ve spent the better part of my grown up years trying to recreate my memories there, like missing puzzle pieces; solid, steady puzzle pieces that gave me something to hold onto and a better sense of who I am. I see now I may have grown a little too enthusiastic in my search, just a little bit.

Our place here is where family and friends gather around the campfire to play music and roast hot dogs and marshmallows on cool autumn nights. It’s where the kids gather in the summertime to catch lightning bugs in the tall grass across the road, ride ponies and chase chickens. It’s where Matilda and Flopsy bunnies were paraded around in a stroller and doll pajamas when our daughter was a little girl, a rat, named Daisy was taken outside for tree-walks on her leash and our dogs play search and rescue with the kids (not cops and robbers!) in the woods. We don’t keep a milk cow, pigs or goats, though it has been suggested we should more than once. We do keep a small garden, which may or may not produce anything of substance from year to year, depending on whether Little League season takes over. And we do, occasionally, gather in the pool on a starry night and lay on our backs searching for constellations and satellites. 

The cousins call it, Barefoot Acres Camp. We call it, Home.

But what I really want to talk to you about are these boots of mine.

I. Don’t. Wear. Shoes. (Much) I bought a pair of men's work boots in a thrift store, roughly ten years ago when we picked up our brood and moved them further out into the country. Two bucks. They were everything I hated in a shoe; laces practically to my shins, heavy as bricks (when they’re caked with mud and god knows what), and ugly as sin. How’s a girl supposed to breathe in shoes like these? I’m a slip-on, flip flop, sandal kinda girl, when I must wear something. My brother asked me many years ago when he noticed my footwear, “But what would you do if you *had* to run from an assailant?” I’d never thought of that before. I wondered, what possesses a person to dwell on questions that only raise one’s blood pressure thinking about it. I think now though, if I found myself in such a predicament, I would probably calmly unlace my boots, hand them over and tell them, “Hey, I hope they bring you the happiness you’re searching for.” I might also kick them in the shins first, for good measure. They are the proverbial shit kickers, after all.

These boots of mine do serve a purpose, I realized just last week, though I finally see them now as more of an old friend than as that albatross around my neck. Despite the fact that I’ve experienced heart palpitations and slight nausea, on more than one occasion, upon discovering that warm, furry, and somewhat squishy mice are drawn to that place where the toes go. These boots, in fact, have protected my beloved digits from frostbite, snake bite, playful Shetland temperaments, old horse Alzheimer’s, mower blades, hot campfire coals, sticks sharpened into spears… a la “Lord of the Flies”, errant holes dug in unsuspected places by unsupervised children, dogs chasing fly balls and Frisbees and cats, shovels and rakes left blade up in the garden, blood-thirsty tiller’s tines, and poo. Let us not forget the poo; chicken poo, horse and pony poo, and bunny poo (that's Bunny POO, not Foo Foo). These boots have seen some poo in their day. They’ve trudged through it, slipped in it, been practically bathed and baptized in it. When I was little, I wanted to talk to the animals. What I didn’t know then was how often I would find myself in lively conversation with their poo.

In this place, and in the small petting zoo that’s grown up around us here, our family has fought bravely… in our boots… through some of the more mundane lessons LIFE has to teach us. Loving a home is hard work. Loving the life it supports is harder. It’s in our daily feeding chores, the back-breaking work of barn building, ditch digging, fence erecting... and even in the graves we’ve had to dig for those we’ve loved that have passed... that these boots, and theirs, have helped us through the real work ~ of Living.

Last week we buried another beloved family pet. I thought, as I pulled my boots on and then slowly laced them up, in the early morning before the frost had disappeared, just how much I was not looking forward to this part. The hardest part. The real work. As many times as I have cussed and cried in these boots, I reminded myself then that I have also laughed and loved, lived and learned in them. Our journey is a difficult one. If it came too easy, what would be the point?

These two dollar boots have taken me farther than I ever thought possible, even when I sometimes find it slightly hard to breathe in them. Who would have thought I might actually have been running from myself? I *have* learned many things along my journey, but one of the simplest lessons I have finally come to accept is, sometimes it’s easier just to lace ‘em up and get to work. Before you know what hit you, it’s time again for starry nights and search and rescue. At least, that’s how it works around these parts... in these boots.

***

 Be Brave My Friends!

"The best way out is always through."

~ Robert Frost

*Life is in the journey!* ~ Touched By Love

♥

Life's Inspirational Valiant Endeavors

~ Touched By Love ~

“The greatest thing you’ll ever learn, is just to love and be loved in return.”

~ A poet, "Moulin Rouge"

I was touched by love the first time my mother kissed her lips to my little fingers and toes. It was, indeed, love at first sight. And so the story goes, I spent the next thirty-something years of my life trying to recreate that once-in-a-lifetime, unconditional they say, instinctual perhaps, but nevertheless, magic of love.

I caught glimpses of it in my father’s eyes when he grinned at me, as I watched an ant climb up a mountain. I grew closer still when my little brother wrapped me in his arms and hugged me tight, after life had gotten a hold of us. Even as the love of my life, “my density”, pledges his heart to me after nineteen years of marriage (twenty-seven if we’re counting an incredibly long courtship), I am reminded that true love is in action. I know what it is to have come so close, the moment I, myself, kissed three sets of fingers and toes, renewing the cycle of life and a mother’s love.

I know what it is to love and to be loved.

I had simply forgotten, to love *me* along the way.

We spend a lifetime searching for love in all the wrong places, wonderful as some of them may be, short-lived as some of them most thankfully are ~ all our efforts in vain, seeking that which we have denied ourselves, only to realize that the love we’ve searched for in others, was to be found, not in them, but in us. 

I asked myself some time ago, when life had slowed just long enough for me catch my breath ~ What was it I was so afraid of, that I would avoid intimacy with those I was closest to, avoid asking for what I need, avoid looking into my own eyes, my own heart, for those answers I sought in others. I found my answers, my truths, only when I began to let go of my fear.

Touched by love, we create fear, so as never to breathe, to live, to exist in its absence. Where love is courageous and not easily explained, fear is primal and instantly acknowledged, settling into our very bones.

It is the human condition that we often times confuse love with fear. Our fear of change stunts our growth. Our fear of intimacy and success stifles our creativity. Our fear of sadness and the loss of our voice, breeds more fear. But it is our fear of letting go, by our own design, which keeps us always coming back for more. Love hurts, we are told. And, it must follow, as the night the day, so it must be love.

Love is the antithesis of fear.

Love is…

Freedom,

Strength,

and

Honor

Courage,

Passion,

and

Peace

Wisdom,

Beauty,

and

Healing

Patience,

Hope,

Faith,

and

Truth!

Love is…

Courage, in the presence of Chaos.

~ Love, is Love, is Love! ~

  This Valentine's Day

Share the Love My Friends!

This I Believe: On Love

“The best way out is always through.”

~ Robert Frost