Greyhound Man

Greyhound man.

Good weather or bad,
You and your lanky, obviously well loved dogs,
Make the trek through my little corner of the world (Past the window, past the parking lot, down the lane- with  your baggie of....) every working day.

We never greet each other, except that one head nod, one time a few years ago, when it was snowing.

Today I thought about you all day though.
I noticed one of your greyhounds was gone.
Replaced with a smaller, albeit still cute, hound.

Your task was the same.
Your time was the same.
But your cadence was off.

I always loved the graceful dance
of the long legged ones on both sides of you.
I bet you did too.

But you will be okay,
Greyhound man.

In the background of your life,
There are people cheering you on.
Wishing you good will.
Thankful that you still walk,
Early and daily.
Even though your groove is different.

Milky Way

Life has been so busy lately but that's nothing new.
It is the asynchrony of it all that has left me unsettled. I have felt like Steve Martin in that famous scene from "The Jerk", trying so hard, so earnestly, but missing the beat.

But then Saturday happened.

Saturday we held hands under the Milky Way and looked up.

And for that moment, and in every moment since,

I have felt awe.

It's as if the universe whispered into my ear,
"look at this great tapestry- do not doubt the weaver."

Stars on a beautiful night, an everyday reminder of one grand miracle.

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~

A gathering up

I had a conversation with a young woman earlier this week. 

It was a long journey from where she started to the stoop on which we both sat to talk.  She has seen things and experienced things that people shouldn't have to see or experience, ever.  She has lost people and her place in the world.  All of this I knew and had grieved before we spoke. 

 In her quiet voice, with large tears dropping onto the step below, she shared her dream with me and also her fear that it may not come true. It wasn't a grandiose dream; nothing extreme or flashy for her.  


She wants her education.

She wants her education!!


My heart broke for her lost opportunities as we sat still on the stoop, both looking down. I put my arm on her shoulders to comfort her but I could not speak.

 And then I felt it, her spirit gathering up inside of her; putting her back together, drying her cheeks, and propping up her resolve. I felt that gathering so strongly that I expected to look over and see her angel self putting her physical self back together.

"Miss Michelle, I had the honor roll when I was young."

"Of course you did because you are smart," I said.

Viktor Frankl, author of the book Man's Search for Meaning, wrote, " “Forces beyond your control can take away everything you possess except one thing, your freedom to choose how you will respond to the situation.”

Luckie me, I was in the presence of a great and dedicated chooser.  She will get her education.

I see you.

One day, a long time ago, I was significantly struggling. 
 I was trying hard to get through.  I avoided all eyes,  forced every smile, and swallowed the ugly cry that kept trying to creep up my throat.  I thought I was doing pretty well at the Big Fake.
And then.
A person, not a stranger, but almost a stranger, came up to me, looked me right in the eye and said,

i see you.
you aren't alone.

Then she patted my hand and walked away.
It meant the whole world to me that day.

Today I paid it forward and I witnessed the power of simply bearing witness.
I didn't fix anything.                   (i see you)
Nothing essential was changed.                    (you aren't alone)
But in that honest moment, there was a space for hope.

Thank you lady of long ago for sharing your blessing with me. Your name is lost in some errant file of my brain but your gift remains.

Everyday miracles in six words and some space. Lovely.