History

I sat in the small diner and ate my salad by myself before class started.  Two employees, both in their early 20's, were filling little containers of salad dressings about five feet from me.  They were working hard and talking nonstop.  At first, I couldn't figure out what they were talking about because the conversation seemed disjointed.  As I listened closer (yes, I am an eavesdropper), I realized they were studying for a bio test together as they worked.  The young woman stumbled on an answer and the man working along with her said, "Well, that ain't swag."

She stopped, put down her ladle and said," Are you stupid? Do you know what swag means?  Just because JZ says swag doesn't mean that you should use it!  I looked swag up and it means curtain. Choose your own words."

He looked at her and said, "Everyone uses "swag", relax."

"Everyone uses "swag".   Great.  Genius.  We are working on changing our history and you are going to say "swag" as a grown man and expect history to change."

She looked at me, shrugged her shoulders and said, "He doesn't get it." And walked back to the kitchen.

The man stood there, dumbfounded, holding his ladle and said, "She takes it all so seriously."

I looked down at my salad and cursed my nosiness that had led me into being a witness to such an uncomfortable situation. I could think of nothing witty to say to break the tension. Then the man walked back to the kitchen too.

I paid my bill and went to class.

I had two very divergent thoughts as I reflected on the encounter.

1. This woman felt the weight of her history each day and the responsibility to chose each word carefully to change perception and the future. (what an amazing individual, how many of us could carry that load?)

2.  What would the world be like if we all chose to be selective about the words we say?  If each word was written as part of the history?




There are persons of wisdom and deep thought hidden in life's tapestry. Luckie me, I expect to find them and I always do. Luckie me, they will all be included in my history.

Shiny Floors

Tomorrow is back to school day for many people. My little world seems to be vibrating with anxious waves of energy, what will tomorrow bring? What will tomorrow bring?

Here is what I know for sure:

Tomorrow will bring- 
kids with book bags and nervous grins
teachers with book bags and nervous grins
lots of problem solving opportunities.

But, there will also be....

a million rays of possibility
reflecting off the shiny floors.

And that makes me grateful that I get to do what I do.

First day miracles in fresh wax.  I can't wait!

Hummmm

I gave myself the gift of time.
A whole afternoon in fact.
To sit and rock and sit and rock and
listen.
I looked too,
 but I didn't do anything.
I didn't read or plan or worry or write.
I didn't think.

At first, it was hard, at first, I felt guilty.
At first, I couldn't quiet myself. My mind kept going back to my
"to dos".

Oh, but then.

 I saw a tiny hummingbird on the feeder and then another and another.
Three together sparring and sipping. I watched and then closed my eyes and listened.

I sat very still and listened for a long time.

Then I heard it:
The hums of their wings were unique.  Each bird's wings had a signature pitch.
And that recognition brought me great joy. I was flooded with gratefulness for this tiny tidbit.

I have thought about that moment everyday since. I am sure there are a million metaphors for life and good living embedded in that moment.
But, my lesson was this:
there are small and wondrous things all around, little nudges from the universe that life was meant to be beautiful. All I need to do is breathe and cherish and the joy comes rushing in.

Everyday miracles on a itsy bitsy wing~