Loss

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The Dance of Dusk

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The Best Part of Me

                                               

It’s ironic to be writing this now, way past midnight, on a night I should be in a deep sleep. 5:30 comes early and this body, this heart, this soul and mind has a place to show up each weekday, an important place, where the future of humankind is being guided and groomed.

That’s where the idea for this blog came, at a school faculty meeting on an afternoon when I had a long list of a bajillion more important things to do. As we shared strategies that were working in our classrooms, this one spoke to me, inspired me, and along with my body is gifting me the insomnia to see it through.

Amy B. credited other teacher-humans and the vault of the world called Pinterest with the idea and added her own rich black and white iPhone photo skills and teacher magic to the positive self image poetry project titled “The Best Part of Me”. Her 3rd grade students wrote about all the things their favorite perfect parts allowed them to enjoy and do. You’d be amazed at the thoughtfulness and depth flowing out of their 8-9 year old minds. So here I am thanks to Amy B., Pinterest, and a couple of steroid shots I received yesterday on my not so young knees, thinking about my parts, and what I appreciate about them.

In between listening to and categorizing the rhythms and tones of the hub’s snores, I pondered my physique, a little deeper and quite a bit longer than I did at the faculty meeting. Admittedly my first thought was R rated, my fantastic (recently augmented) boobs! Very corporeal and superficial indeed, and while insuring I’ll never be invited to the “you’re perfect and beautiful just as you are club”, my cup size and self confidence were greatly boosted.

I continued to mentally examine all my other body parts and ultimately settled on my womb as first choice. That amazing space inside of my female human body has swollen, shrunk, cradle, protected and made possible 2 whole perfect human beings until it was time for the best parts of me (excluding the migraine genes) to join the rest of us. I will forever consider my boy and my girl the miracles I sheltered and hosted for a time I wouldn’t trade for the contents of all the vaults in this world.

As the hub’s snores varied in volume and animal mimicry, my mind traveled the length and breadth of my body.

❖ My hands- for the tactile pleasure they give, for the treasures they’ve felt, held, and carried, for their strength and their creativity, for their silent ability to speak and facilitate the transfer of the coding inside me to paper and keyboard

❖ My arms- for the experience of holding another close, so close that our hearts could be felt knocking on the doors of our souls, for their ability to reach out to others, for never shying away from opening doors and learning to close those that cease to be of benefit

❖ My feet- although considered rather large for a female human, for bearing the weight of me through thick and thin, for holding this tall glass of water up, for pointing me in all directions, for taking me to incredibly beautiful earthly places and for always bringing me back to the people I call home

❖ My eyes- hazel, (and recently augmented also, no more droopy lids, yay! I’m sober and bravely telling almost all my secrets here tonight.) for allowing me the gift of sight, for their part in translating swirling atoms into infinite forms of visual architecture and beauty, for their ability to wordlessly communicate, to sense danger, for being the windows to my soul and for emitting the tears that flow in gratitude, joy and even sorrow

❖ My ears- for their ability to perceive the magnanimous array of worldly sounds, the symphonies of this life, especially that of the ocean, my balm and heart song

❖ My nose- ethnic and once broken, for the all of the sensory pleasures it delivers, for its ability to detect danger, for its elephantine memory, allowing me to travel in time

❖ My mouth- very noble-like now from the number of crowns it contains, for the tastebuds that savor the sweetness of life, for the lips that work in conjunction with all the other vocalizing members to communicate with others, for the sensual gift of kissing and being kissed and of course forming smiles

❖ My heart- the miraculous organ that fuels all the rest of me, repaired with a Lilliputian titanium umbrella 6 years ago by a God-like Columbian cardiologist for its continual interaction with every body system, for its ability to feel, to even ache, to be touched by and connected with others through heart waves, for its niches that hold space for carrying other hearts

I could continue this list to include the plethora of cells and systems that comprise our species, but you probably don’t read my blogs for science lessons. You get the idea. We’re all containers of walking miracles, yet we rarely take time to digest and appreciate that fact. Many of us wait till the end, till it’s too late to show much love for our parts, till our parts stop cooperating with each other. I say now, at 3:06 AM, that it’s time. Time to start appreciating all of our individual, unique parts and recognize our personal brands of awesomeness. Join me, won’t you?

Peace and Love

Photo credit- Pinterest , Scholastic.com and Genia Connell March 28, 2013

 

 

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Shine

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Sunday Photo Diary

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May I ?

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Bucket List

Much gratitude to Facebook for reminding me that I wrote this 1 year ago today. It’s a perfectly timed reminder of what really matters, love and living life to the fullest as you continually use up all your paint and have to get more.

Peace and Love

This Pedestrian Life

Bucket list

Bucket List

To live and dream in color

Your hand in mine

To use up all of our paint

Repeatedly

And scour the earth

for more

To taste the honeysuckle sunshine of your smile

Until I depart on a zephyr

With gossamer wings

Silken ribbons of love trailing back to you

As the dragonflies whisper

“It’s time.”

CRR 9-29-15

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Night Kisses Day

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Under The Break or Marry The Flow

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Mid Night Discourse

She doesn’t listen. She’s impudent that way, my muse. Coming and going as she pleases seemingly without a thought of the repercussions for me. So familiar. Is she me or I her? A question for the ages, the slowly aging from lack of sleep, and the up for hours mid-night. I awake wondering what she wants, mind ricocheting from one byte of memory to another. Is she intuitive? Does she foresee? Might she simply be attuned to the body she inhabits or am I experiencing the effects of Mercury in retrograde? I’m not completely sure what that even means but we are all part of the cosmic portrait, the energy of the universe. Atoms dancing in invisible valences with ghostly attractions and all. I’ve ruled out indigestion, heartburn and physical pain. There’s no bun in the oven doing somersaults. No caffeine aftermath. Perhaps she has something of value to say. She knows how I abhor vapid discourse. I’m often mistaken for antisocial for believing that what you (or I) have to say should be more beautiful than silence. I just wish she’d get on with it as I sit here rattling on like someone with multiple personalities.
Should I invest in the URL? Buy thispedestrianlife.com before it’s gone, like the black mock turtleneck midi dress that’s now out of stock after I delayed purchasing it online last night? Is it time to identify myself by name as writer/poet as opposed to author behind a clever blog name? What am I going to do my PGP ( work-personal growth plan) on this year? Should I start going to a Yoga class instead of practicing via video? I’m out of lavender essential oil and forgot to put it on our shopping list. I need razor blades and mascara as well. And I really should tackle the rust stains on the back of the house. Should I take the hummus for lunch tomorrow? It seems I always end up forgetting it the second day and letting it go to waste. Am I ever going to have a relationship with my sister? Do I want to sponsor a Make a Difference Club at school this year? Should I change the name? I need to get my Florida Gator purse out of the closet and start carrying it tomorrow. Football season is here and I so hope the Gators make a comeback. Why isn’t the Tylenol PM working? I wonder if that black dress will be back in stock sometime? I should sign up for an alert if that’s even available. Is that even available? Maybe I should read. Or work on one of the two books I’ve started writing. Is it too early for coffee? I can’t believe I’m still awake…

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