Indomitable 

Hurricane Irma took part of our Bottlebrush tree. I feel guilty for even saying that out loud when so many others lost entire lives. Lucky us, she must’ve not been that hungry when she blew through here and therefore thankfully left us with everything else. As my treecutter son sawed off one entire side a month or so ago, I cringed at the remains and the new shape. Wanna visit? We’re the house with the lopsided tree. He said not to worry, it’ll come back in no time. This morning as I as leaving for work I noticed he was right. The word “indomitable ” came to mind as the morning sky highlighted the new growth reaching up and out from the chopped off limbs. Tonight I reflect and pray that we may all be “indomitable “, that we can find that force within to carry us up and out of the cut off places we’ve been living in, the fallen ways we’ve  felt and viewed ourselves. May each of us smell hope in the morning dew, hear joy in the simple trill of a morning bird, and see promise in tomorrow’s sky.

Peace and Love

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Moment In Time 


Wooly clouds sailing south,

high tide rolling westward to the shore,

as the sun inched above the distant horizon 

I was struck with a sensory illusion 

of Earth actually rotating,

chosen witness to a holy event 

previously reserved for the stars.

CRR

11-5-17

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House + Love = Home

                                                               

Yesterday marked 13 years that hubs and I have lived in this house. Although he’s been far less mobile than me, it’s the longest time period that either of us have lived at one address. Despite the fact that we’ve had multiple marriages and been around the block, (subdivision, trailer park, town, state, country) more than a few times, it’s one of the many wonderful things we’ve never experienced with anyone else. 

Hubby’s numbers are in the low single digits while my list includes 13 schools attended and 33 houses/places lived in. And I wasn’t a foster kid or a military brat, so go figure. My mobile life seems to be the result of hunter-gatherer, gypsy tendencies, or a “hey the grass is greener over there” type of thing. Being the hard headed, “I’ll find my own truths” rebel I am, it took me a long time to recognize that so called “greener grass” (and several other illusory tricks) as a smoke and mirrors racket pulled off by my own mind.

My midnight musings got me thinking about the characteristics of our physical abode and how they relate to the feelings of home that we’ve been blessed to find in each other’s eyes and arms. The concrete block walls surrounding us represent the sturdiness and strength of our best friends, partners and lovers bond. The high ceilings give a sense of freedom within and the sliders opening up the back of the house to a lanai, provide space for us both to dream and fly. We have cool tile and warm carpet, commensurate to the haven of our relationship, the one place where we both find what we need when the outside world fires us up or freezes us out. Our open floor plan allows us to be together but never feel stuck, the majority of our waking hours. I have my home office on one side of the house and hubs has his on the other. We each have a space (mine is beachy, his orange and blue) dedicated to our selves, personal and symbolic of a healthy independence, but with comfy seating for when we want to share with each other. Plenty of windows allow light to stream in and help maintain that Natasha Bedingfield “Pocketful of sunshine, love that is all mine” feeling.

“Home is where the heart is.” 

Pliny the Elder

“Home is where you hear love within the stillness.” 

Raquel Franco

” Peace, that was the other name for home.” 

 Kathleen Norris

 “Home is where there’s one to love us.” 

Charles Swain

“Home is not where you live, but where they understand you.”

Christian Morgenstern

“Home is a shelter from storms-all sorts of storms.” 

William J. Bennett 

Those are just a few favorites of the multitude of sayings about homes. Certainly those who’ve lost theirs in man-made circumstances or natural disasters feel a huge hole in their hearts, but I found out 18 years ago that losing your home and almost everything in it can sometimes be the beginning of gaining what you’ve always wanted and all that really matters.

Peace and Love

CRR

11-1-17

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Missing Seasons 

South/Central Florida and Autumn, antonyms. 

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Listen

 


There are those of us 

who converse with Earth, 

and listen to her songs.

All beings have a truth to tell.

We all must listen well.

CRR 

10- 8-17

I created this scene beneath the shrubs beside my house as we were taking the last of the hurricane shutters down yesterday. I saw the shrooms as a miniature world and knew the wise man had a place there. 

Peace and Love

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Autumn

My dear friend Becky and I often share books we’ve discovered and loved. Most recently she shared “Autumn”, the first of four anticipated, seasonal titled volumes of reflections by Norwegian author Karl Ove Knausgaard, in which he describes the material and natural world to his unborn daughter with such immersive depth and detail that it moved me (once again) to reflect on how much goes unnoticed as we race from point A to Point B and down our “to do” lists each day. Between arising each morning and collapsing each evening, we’re often blessed to find a moment here or there to take notice, but oh the marvels, the layers, the connections, the joys, and the beauties we must miss. 

But just how interesting could reading about a thermos be? As much as war, twilight, mouths, willows, loneliness and rubber boots? My answer is yes, so this is part book review/recommendation, part self-admonition and partly a beckoning to you dear readers. Although I was tempted a couple of times to skip the entries about such things as adders and petrol, I’m so glad I didn’t. For one, I wasn’t at all familiar with the adder since it’s not native to North America. And like me, I bet if you think about it you remember contemplating the liquid rainbow you noticed on the pavement as a young child. 

Having finished Autumn, I look forward to Knausgaard’s second volume in this series, “Winter”, set to be published next year. Until then, I’m going to strive to slow down. If just for a stolen daily moment or two, I want to look deeper, listen harder, and open my whole self with intention, so that more of what’s out there, all around, beside, between and connecting us, can be revealed to me. I wish the same for you.

Peace and Love

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Three Important Questions


I was tidying up my home office this afternoon (envision piles of books, journals, clippings, etc.”) and revisited this children’s book. “The Three Questions”, written and illustrated by Jon J. Muth and based on a story with the same name, written by Leo Tolstoy. It’s a beautiful adaptation that answers three extremely important questions relevant to both children and adults. 

1. When is the best time to do things? We struggle with this every day. The uncertainty of whether we should do this thing now or whether we should wait and see if this other thing happens first. 

2. Who is the most important one? I know I’m here now with this person but maybe I should be somewhere else. How can I be sure that this is where I should be and time well spent?

3. What is the right thing to do? Oh my, this is a big one! Our head may say one thing and our heart another. And of course everyone else has an opinion too.

I’m going to go ahead and spoil it for you because I know not everyone is going to rush out and buy the book. Leo and Jon, (yes, we’re on a first name basis) wrote in different worlds, over 100 years apart from each other but both answer the three questions in the same way. The best time to do things is now. Now is the most important time. The most important one is the one that you’re with. And the right thing to do, the most important thing to do is to do good. In the words of Jon J. Muth, “That’s why we are here.” That’s it people. You, me, all of us, we’re just here to do good. I’ll leave you with those thoughts and the reminder that kindness is contagious. Rub it all over your hands and spread it. Spread it real good. Our world is aching for it.

Peace and Love

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Mountains On Your Ocean Floor


Are there mountains on your ocean floor?

Unseen heights of sunken dreams,

castles of orphaned wishes 

tossed into wells of hope? 

Dirigibles of leaden doubt,

waiting to be melded by beams of light, 

into the multicolored hues of possibility

that spread North from the horizon each morn?

Dive deep today.

Climb high.

For it is there,

in that forgotten place

that your treasure awaits.

Whether you woke up today in a jail cell or a penthouse in paradise, alone or in someone’s arms, heart overflowing with joy or erupting with grief, the sun is rising again, creating and sustaining life again, and we have only 2 choices. To allow today to unfold in the exact same way we always have, or choose for it to be different. Even when incarcerated and seemingly choiceless, we have that freedom. The one that makes all the difference. Choose one thing. Smile at a stranger. Chat up your grocery bagger. Walk the opposite way around the park. Challenge your body or your brain. Make that call. Listen to the song of silence, even when, especially when, you’d rather not. Smile at your reflection. Remind yourself of your great worth. Rise up and be sun. Shine the light you seek. And at the end of this day may you sleep well, rinse and repeat.
CRR

9-24-17

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Before the Hurricane

As I held the ladder and drill for my hubs, I kept getting distracted by the flitting, diving and dancing of butterflies and dragonflies in our back yard. Much to his chagrin, I said “I swear they’re speaking to me!” I mean who can blame him? Nobody wants a looney-tunes wife. But I know they were there for a reason, as symbols of endurance, hope, change and the deeper meaning of life, their message was clear to me. No matter what occurs, the sun’s gonna rise tomorrow and there will be beauty and goodness to be found.

Peace and Love

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Mid Night Discourse

One year later. Some things never change. I could have written this last night.

Peace and Love

This Pedestrian Life

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…

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