Nature verses the local grocery...

Tuesday, January 29, 2013

TRAILS OF ANGEL WINGS


This paragraph came across my e-mail this week and touched me deeply since I am dealing with a personal crisis in my own family.  This is an old paragraph, it's been around the net a few times.  But - like the telephone pole one passes for years without noticing its particular oddity of whatever flavor, this paragraph suddenly embraced for me, the value of the comfort, friendship and support of someone who simply listens, hears and stays close while the other friend rants, rails, struggles, suffers and sometimes sobs from emotional stress.  Nothing can be done to take away the cause of the stress at that moment, nothing can be changed, nothing can be immediately healed. But the proverbial hand is held, the tears are understood, the suffering shared and thus lightened, the loneliness of pain...is somehow lessened. 

Like the following little boy suggests, helping a friend cry, is the ultimate support - the largest pair of angel wings a friend can wear. 


A  four-year-old child's next door neighbor was an elderly gentleman, who had recently lost  his wife. Upon seeing the man cry, the little  boy went into the old Gentleman's' yard,  climbed onto his lap, and just sat  there. When his mother asked him what he  had said to the neighbor, the little boy just said,

'Nothing, I just Helped him  cry.' unknown author


For all the angel wings I have been blessed to share over the past weeks - ALL of them...I am heart-fully grateful.

NATURE prevails...

Friday, January 25, 2013

TRAILS OF LOVE


Sometimes...in our rush to old age, we find a moment (one of those perfect moments of which I so often speak) when the light shines above the dark...the good over the bad...the brightness of this life over the dark scary shadows that can purge our soul and our dreams.  This video of a Whale rescue is such a moment.



We need more of these moments in our NEWS, more of life that uplifts us - supports us, reminds us we are in the image and likeness of a creative force.  I'm not sure who/what/when/where/why or when that force is; but I am fairly certain that no one on this planet whipped up this itty bitty piece of rock we call home - NOR - the awe that surrounds us for infinity (whatever that is...just too much information in that large word for my tiny mind to absorb).

Embrace our creative life force; let it shine, create smiles and warmth and Love...whenever we have a minute...to wear our angel wings.

As always...NATURE prevails.

THE BLACK TELEPHONE



This little story below carries a big heart; it crossed my e-mail today with no author nor can I find one, so far.  It affected me thoroughly, and I hope, will sir up a bit of your humanness - connect you to the Love and depth that is indeed, part of our deeper nature...the part that does not rage wars, spread gossip, abuse children and engage in other atrocities that plague our history and our souls.

When I was a young boy, my father had one of the first telephones in our neighborhood.. I remember the polished, old case fastened to the wall. The shiny receiver hung on the side of the box. I was too little to reach the telephone, but used to listen with fascination when my mother talked to it
Then I discovered that somewhere inside the wonderful device lived an amazing person. Her name was "Information Please" and there was nothing she did not know. Information Please could supply anyone's number and the correct time. My personal experience with the genie-in-a-bottle came one day while my mother was visiting a neighbor. Amusing myself at the tool bench in the basement, I whacked my finger with a hammer, the pain was terrible, but there seemed no point in crying because there was no one home to give sympathy. I walked around the house sucking my throbbing finger, finally arriving at the stairway. The telephone!

Quickly, I ran for the footstool in the parlor and dragged it to the landing. Climbing up, I unhooked the receiver in the parlor and held it to my ear. "Information, please" I said into the mouthpiece just above my head. A click or two and a small clear voice spoke into my ear. "Information." "I hurt my finger..." I wailed into the phone, the tears came readily enough now that I had an audience. "Isn't your mother home?" came the question. "Nobody's home but me," I blubbered. "Are you bleeding?" the voice asked. No,"I replied. "I hit my finger with the hammer and it hurts." "Can you open the icebox?" she asked. I said I could. "Then chip off a little bit of ice and hold it to your finger," said the voice.

After that, I called "Information Please" for everything.. I asked her for help with my geography, and she told me where Philadelphia was. She helped me with my math. She told me my pet chipmunk that I had caught in the park just the day before, would eat fruit and nuts. Then, there was the time Petey, our pet canary, died. I called, Information Please," and told her the sad story. She listened, and then said things grown-ups say to soothe a child. But I was not consoled. I asked her, "Why is it that birds should sing so beautifully and bring joy to all families, only to end up as a heap of feathers on the bottom of a cage?" She must have sensed my deep concern, for she said quietly, " Wayne , always remember that there are other worlds to sing in." Somehow I felt better.

Another day I was on the telephone, "Information Please." Information," said in the now familiar voice. "How do I spell fix?"I asked. All this took place in a small town in the Pacific Northwest . When I was nine years old, we moved across the country to Boston . I missed my friend very much.

"Information Please" belonged in that old wooden box back home and I Somehow never thought of trying the shiny new phone that sat on the table in the hall. As I grew into my teens, the memories of those childhood conversations never really left me.. Often, in moments of doubt and perplexity I would recall the serene sense of security I had then. I appreciated now how patient, understanding, and kind she was to have spent her time on a little boy.

A few years later, on my way west to college, my plane put down in Seattle . I had about a half-hour or so between planes. I spent 15 minutes or so on the phone with my sister, who lived there now. Then without thinking what I was doing, I dialed my hometown operator and said, "Information Please." Miraculously, I heard the small, clear voice I knew so well. Information." I hadn't planned this, but I heard myself saying, "Could you please tell me how to spell fix?" There was a long pause. Then came the soft spoken answer, "I guess your finger must have healed by now." I laughed, "So it's really you," I said. "I wonder if you have any idea how much you meant to me during that time?" I wonder," she said, "if you know how much your call meant to me. I never had any children and I used to look forward to your calls." I told her how often I had thought of her over the years and I asked if I could call her again when I came back to visit my sister. "Please do", she said. "Just ask for Sally."

Three months later I was back in Seattle . A different voice answered, "Information."I asked for Sally. "Are you a friend?" she said. "Yes, a very old friend," I answered. "I'm sorry to have to tell you this,"She said. "Sally had been working part time the last few years because she was sick. She died five weeks ago." Before I could hang up, she said, " Wait a minute, did you say your name was Wayne ?" " Yes." I answered. Well, Sally left a message for you. She wrote it down in case you called. Let me read it to you." The note said, "Tell him there are other worlds to sing in. He'll know what I mean." I thanked her and hung up. I knew what Sally meant.

If the author should pass by here - please send me an e-mail or place a comment below.  I strive to document and give credit to anything that is not my writing. daniellesimone0@gmail.com


May 21st, 2015
Thank you to the commenter that pointed me to the author of this quoted story above;

Paul Villard

Originally published June, 1966 Readers Digest; reprinted with permission in the December 1999 issue of the Singing Wires newsletter, TCI club.

Thank you PAUL VILLARD for a touching story.  It is stories like yours that bring people together by sharing their hearts...

As always...Nature prevails...

Sunday, January 20, 2013

MOMENTS...OF LIFE

"Life is a fleeting gesture...
a wisp of a cloud in a breeze,
a cresting wave in all it's height and glory,
a thunderclap in a passing storm...
...the screaming reverberation of a successful hunter's shot."  

 
The circle of life has yet again, embraced my mindset this week.  I've had the ultimate pleasure of several hugs...from strangers, as well as my priceless circle of friends who wore their angel wings with strength and uncanny Love.  These friends willingly offered continual support as I stumbled over a part of my journey that was - for a few days - filled with burning stones, sharp lessons and scary shadows. 

I looked into the wise yet human eyes of a caring doctor as he leaned over my dearest friend's tired and struggling body. 

I've screamed through the depths of my despair; I gained some solace through the hug and wise words of a very human and Loving clergyman whose strength and angel wings added energy and courage to my frightened, uncertain and oh too human, empty heart.

But most importantly...I've watched my dearest friend succumb to life's ability to drop him to his literal knees without warning...and maybe, without meaning. I watched his helplessness, his pain; I also watched in awe at his inner courage, fullness of heart and determination, his life-energy that perseveres through the hellacious road that life has tossed him on for several years.   I marvel at his tenacious soul, his faith in life, his ability to rebound and his loyalty to the caregivers he is blessed to know. I've absorbed the Love he still managed to share, even in his weakened, painful and tired state of being.

The circle of life is a mystery to which we all belong, all creatures - large and small...



 


NATURE PREVAILS......

 

Saturday, January 12, 2013

SHARE A PERFECT MOMENT


The wind blew yesterday...forever, it seemed - with a vengeance!  There is microscopic dust...everywhere.

Our land is cracking under the weight of our drought; I wonder if it will ever end.

For many people, money is tight.  Except for the hundred thousand dollar recreation rigs of every type, size and design that flow by our house during warmer weather, on the way to the State Park south of us.

My chickens were brutally killed by two gimungous dogs a few weeks ago.  And the list goes on - IF - I let it.

There is negativity everywhere - it bounces at us from any/every corner of our world.  Unchecked, it can drive us down into oblivion, beyond repair, seemingly beyond the healing reaches of the Love that binds humanity.  Is there a cure?

YES! This is not rocket science (hate cliches, but can't let go of this one...)  A SMILE.  Yes...an itty bitty, minimum of effort, absolutely free, non-taxable, non-invasive, contagious...SMILE.

Years ago, before grey hair, before creaky ankles, before painful joints, before sagging skin, before achy fingers...my Mom taught us a cute little song; it seems like yesterday.  The sound of her voice prevails in my current time frame; the smile and abounding Love with which she shared these simple, profound words with me warm me through the dust on my furniture, my financial frustrations - through all and any of the unlimited negativity that can be had for the price of a human moment lost...

"There are smiles that make us happy,
There are smiles that make us blue,
There are smiles that steal away the teardrops,
As the sunbeams steal away the dew.
There are smiles that have a tender meaning,
That the eyes of love alone may see,
And the smiles that fill my life with sunshine
Are the smiles that you give to me."


The music for SMILES was composed by Lee S. Roberts, the words by J. Will Calahan, published in 1917.

Oris George made a short, profound post about a smile. As I read through it this early morning, it brought back this soothing memory to me; I thank him - and my dear "Mommy", for the Love shared, that flows through us all...if we let it. 

Even in writing, smiles and laughter are energetic and raise the level of the writing - and, the reader, as Jan Verhoeff explains in one of her writer lessons recently in my lesson-box:   

"Laughter creates an image, a position, a power of sorts and the reality of the laughter is energy. Your story needs that energy."

May a simple smile lift your heart today and take you to the heights of humanity. May it give you a perfect moment...in a sometimes imperfect life.

As always...Nature prevails. 


Friday, January 4, 2013

2013


As I live into this new year, 2013, changed in so many ways by the years and life I've journeyed through since 1983, the sentiments I embraced in this poem then, remain as brilliant and relevant as they did 30 years ago.

Each today is still as precious, as vibrant - as elusive and fleeting as was yesterday...as it will be tomorrow.

Grab the perfect moments in life.  Cherish the Love that surrounds us, that abounds in Nature, that can be found in every corner, every breath we exchange.

Happy New Year.

**********
TODAY

"Possess this day with awe and caring.
It is a gift given quickly and only once;
Stain it not with tears of regret.

Look to yesterday with reverence,
For it is a teacher - a wise one,
A pathway for tomorrow, a memory, a vision.

Tomorrow is also a vision, but without substance.
It is a dream, a wish, a story - yet to be told,
A feeling waiting to be birthed.

Yesterday passes,
Tomorrow waits;
Ah...but for today."

1983 (copyright, 1991)
 Danielle Simone 

***********************

Please enjoy the "aged" humor, after the invocation, in this totally unrelated - yet very funny video on the anecdotes of getting old.