~~~
I draw from the river flask an icy swill to shore up my ancient veins, for soon the raptor will swoop down with his mighty talons and grasp my barren crown.
~~~
photo: along the banks of the Sauk River (Darrington, WA, Feb 2016)
Tag: focus
Nature IS
It’s been kind of a rough week – I won’t get into the gory details… Trust me, they’re not worth the digital ink on the page – it’ll bore you to tears!
In all of it, though, I have emerged – a bit weary and scraped, and definitely (ego-) bruised, but – intact and having learned a lesson or two along the way.
Can I just say, no matter how much unbridled hope you have, no matter how much flattery you’ve stored up in the form of compliments and well-wishes from friends, family, and the sweet little old lady at the craft store who doesn’t understand that you didn’t make a mistake and put your wedding ring on the wrong hand – because it’s NOT a wedding ring (it’s just a stupid ring to not make my, umm I mean your, hands look so plain and dismally naked!)…
Ahem, sorry… where was I? Oh, yes, compliments and well-wishes…
So, with all those little love notes of hope and (bloated) confidence making you feel as if the world will bend to your delightful whims, let me reassure you – the sun will NEVER rise in the west!
Nature IS! If nature started acting contrary to what is has always been – i.e., the sun rising in the west instead of the east – could you imagine the amount of chaos that would create?! If the waves crashed onto the shore with all the splendor and majesty we know and love – the sound of its roaring strength and the sizzle of churning foam on its peaked tips – and then receded, only to fail in its rhythmic return for hours, what then? How far 
from shore would the water linger before once again quenching the sandy terrain? And the moon? What if it decided to spin off on its own and hang out in the orbit of another planet for a night or two, just on the weekend, because hey, it’s the weekend, and the moon deserves a vacation too, right? While we’re at it, how about lemon trees bearing grapes and rose bushes producing acorns and blueberries? Just for fun, cheetahs residing under water, talking ladybugs, and sea stars with proper legs and feet, strolling along in Central Park?
Nature IS…
I remember a line – or rather, a scene – from a movie where one individual laments “a bird may love a fish… but where will they live?” to which another (who by all accounts should know that Nature IS and cannot be changed, altered, or drastically redirected) exclaims “then I shall have to make you wings!” (collective “awe”…) But really, even if – even if!! – a fish could be suited with proper wings, to take flight alongside the bird, their two hearts soaring through the blue vastness together, eventually the fish would perish – for lack. of. breath! Why? Because. Nature. IS!
Okay, now hold on to your over-priced lattes and tea-cakes; here’s the boomerang! As I was myself lamenting about the sad state my affairs find themselves in at the near-close of this week, I came across an unassuming email and without hesitation, opened it for a quick read. There in bold, LARGE TYPE FACE was:
For nothing is impossible with God. – Luke 1:37
Now, I’m not saying the laws of nature are going to be tossed into oncoming traffic and 
carried off at break-neck speeds (because, come on, let’s be real! Traffic NEVER moves that fast around here)! No. Nature (still!) IS. However, if the will of Lord is that something be different than what has previously been the “status quo” – even if that “status quo” has withstood the test of time, and even sustained a longer run time than The Simpsons, Keith Richards, or cockroaches! – then rest assured, His will is going to supersede! Because, well, “[For] nothing is impossible with God.” (Luke 1:37). And in case that wasn’t clear enough, Matthew recorded this: “Jesus looked at them and said, “With man this is impossible, but with God all things are possible.” (Matthew 19:26).
I’m not going to fill my head with ridiculous rationalizations and fanciful dreams that come from a foolishly hopeful heart – that’s what 3-year-old girls do when they exclaim that they’re going to grow up to be mermaids and fairy princesses. No. I’m going to accept that the sun will never rise in the west, and know that it has nothing to do with me – it’s just how nature IS. What I am going to do, however, is find joy in the familiarity of nature’s laws, its calming, recognizable routine – the ones that I’ve become accustomed to over the past four decades (plus or minus five or ten years…).
Trying to redirect the wind and the waves has worn out my soul and my spirit, and has left me feeling defeated more times than I care to count. This time, though, I have learned that it is not my place to change nature, no matter how much bottled-up optimism I brandish in my arsenal. Instead, I am relinquishing my rebellious psyche for one of a more temperate disposition, (begrudgingly perhaps) accepting that I am right where I am supposed to be in the midst of nature and all its splendor, and banking on the promise:
“He gives strength to the weary and increases the power of the weak… They will soar on wings like eagles; they will run and not grow weary, they will walk and not be faint.” (Isaiah 40:29, 31)
And so she wrote…
I have engaged myself in writing a nonfiction piece, investigating some autobiographical avenues and peppering them with inspirational anecdotes, sharing biblical references that helped me stay grounded during times of severe adversity, all in an effort to join up with others who may be traveling similar paths through difficult valleys.
There are some friends and family that know my story, and I’ve had the opportunity to share parts of my story during a women’s breakfast as an encouraging devotional a few years back; however, I’ve never bore my heart and history in as much detail all at one time, or all in one place before… It’s a little intimidating!
During the brain-storming and initial outlining phases, I was blown away at the sheer amount of content that came to mind! I guess I have stopped looking in the rear-view mirror of my life… Some issues still affect my day-to-day living – even at eight years old – and I’ve learned to take those in stride, along with new trials and triumphs (yes, I’ll be celebrating victories and exciting events as well as discussing arduous challenges and how to find peace and foster joy despite surrounding circumstances).
My job consists of many time-sensitive tasks, and I work best when given specific time parameters; therefore, I’m designing a strict timeline for this – I’m a “deadline-minded” individual. Am I prone to procrastination? Is the sun hot? Of course I am! Which is why I needed to set a timeline. I appreciate your patience as I take time to work on this project. I will do all I can to keep this blog page updated, and full of entertaining content. (I have found that I miss writing the content-rich blog posts that filled my page at its onset; I hope to return to that, sooner rather than later!
(I will admit that the first quarter of the year is incredibly laborious on the job front, and there are times when, by my arrival at home, I simply lack the physical stamina and emotional energy to compose decent content. I am however working on reaching a better work-life balance…)
I wanted to end this post with a question – something I haven’t really done in the past (outside of rhetorical questions, leaving you with thoughts to chew on and concepts to wrestle with). This is a question that I found as I pondered different writing topics. I may still use this question to spawn a book in the (not-too-distant) future; however, I am sincerely curious to hear what you think about this. Leave a comment!
***
You’ve been presented with the opportunity to throw five items into an incredibly powerful fire – a fire that will consume and destroy any item tossed into its flame. Upon hurling these five items into the fire, there will be no trace of them left anywhere – no memory, no recollection, no Internet shadow, nothing; it will be as if these items never existed! What would your five items be and why? Would there be consequences or ramifications to removing these items from existence? What would those be and how would you deal with that?
***
Thanks!!
eARTh (100-word Wednesday challenge)
100 Word Wednesday: Week 10, as hosted by the lovely and talented @bikurgurl (image credit: bikurgurl)
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Stage left. Stage right. Center stage. Back stage. Briefly separated for the express purpose of synchronization and harmony in the final stages. Lines. Lines of dialogue. Suspension lines. Each line and bar of music, and lines upon lines of lyrics to memorize. Scattered pieces, misfitting components, a menagerie of personalities and talents, a motley crew of strengths, experiences, and expertise, all drawn together by the love of art and the desire to share it with a willing and receptive audience. Regardless the medium, ART is at the center of our eARTh; be sure to take it in and appreciate it!
AHOY!
I came across a fascinating deconstruction of the notorious nursery rhyme, Row, Row, Row Your Boat. I hadn’t given it much thought prior; however, I have to admit, it’s been eye-opening!
Before writing this, I did just a bit of supporting research – chalk it up to 18 and a half years of schooling and 3 college degrees – to help substantiate what I’m going to state. Please understand that I’m also going to use a little bit of poetic license, as this is just a wild theory, taking these sing-song lyrics and injecting new life into them, and hopefully lightening the mood for one or two of you, now and again, as your mind wanders “gently down the stream”…
Outside of this being what I’ve already mentioned is a simple nursery rhyme, new information – theory, basically – points to the song’s representation as a motivational mantra. Line by line, I’ll break down the song, and show how a new and unique perspective adds a deeper dimension.
Let’s start with the lyrics themselves (I’m sure I probably don’t need to do this, but humor me!):
Row, row, row your boat
Gently down the stream.
Merrily, merrily, merrily, merrily,
Life is but a dream.
Okay, let’s take this one line at a time:
Row, row, row your boat
A boat is a mode of transportation that is used when traversing a body of water, right?
What if that “body of water” is the boat itself? Revolutionary? Let me explain!
The human body is over 50% water, roughly. According to Dr. Jeffrey Utz of Allegheny 
University, humans, at birth, are 78% water, dropping to 65% at around age one. Adult men consist of approximately 60% water and adult females, 55%. (These percentages vary based on body fat mass, as well as other factors.) Water in the human body is necessary to facilitate digestion, it lubricates joints, it regulates body temperature, it helps deliver oxygen all over the body, it aids in the reproduction and survival of the body’s cells, and it acts as a shock absorber for the brain and spinal cord. As outlined by the Journal of Biological Chemistry, the brain and heart are composed of 73% water, the skin contains 64% water, 79% of the kidneys are water, and the lungs are over 80% water. Surprisingly, even the bones consist of 31% water.
So, taking this idea that “the boat” is, in fact, your own body, this song starts off by suggesting that we move through life with a certain amount of ease, in an effort to ensure a level of self-preservation:
Gently down the stream.
Now that we’ve established that this transportation vessel (i.e. the “boat”) is something of immeasurable value (our own bodies), taking caution on the journey seems to be a no-brainer! And this “stream” – what is that, exactly?
The stream of consciousness, maybe?
The voyage through life? (The mid-Nineteenth Century artist, Thomas Cole, created a series of art pieces, depicting four stages of life: childhood, youth, manhood, and old age, all taking place in a boat on a river, “the River of Life”, accompanied by a guardian angel.)
How about the idea of ‘going with the flow’… Hmmm… Let that sink in for just a minute…
Don’t fight against the current (unless, of course, you’re a salmon…), drumming up adversity and difficulties for yourself, risking possible damage and/or jeopardizing the safety of your transportation vessel. Instead, go with the flow…
…moving on…
Merrily, merrily, merrily, merrily
Cheerfully. Gleefully. Sweetly. Vivaciously.
More to the point, though, the converse:
Not maliciously. Not angrily. Not struggling. Not anxiously.
Chronic stress has been proven to damage the structure and connectivity of the brain. Neuroscientists at the University of California, Berkeley, have presented findings that suggest that young persons exposed to chronic stress are prone to mental problems including mood disorders later in life, as well as suffering from learning difficulties. Reduction in brain white matter has also been linked to continual exposure to prolonged 
stress, and such matter reduction results in a change of the flow of electrical signals between neurons and brain regions. The brain’s response to both excitement and stress can, physiologically-speaking, be very similar, some studies show that different subregions of the prefrontal cortex respond differently to negative versus positive stimuli. Furthermore, far too often, excitement stimuli appears to be acute whereas stress stimuli is more often chronic. Without the ability to fight or flee, the “fight or flight” response within the adrenal system becomes torment. I believe it was Shakespeare who said “A tragedy is a comedy misunderstood”. That’s not to say that any of life’s tragedies – the loss of a job, the passing of a family member, devastation due to a natural disaster, etc. – should be viewed as a misunderstood comedy; however, often we dwell more on tragedies than we do on comedies – mulling over the circumstances of a traumatic event long after it has occurred, but allowing a joyful and light-hearted moment to escape like a wave on the shore – and perhaps we should turn this behavior around… We all need to traverse this thing called LIFE more merrily, I think…
Life is but a dream.
This brings us back to the idea of consciousness (the stream of consciousness mentioned above)…
It’s time to wake up to the reality of things – this life is temporal! None of us is going to live forever! Regardless of how meticulous you maintain your transportation vessel – and I’m not saying it’s a bad idea; I’m just saying these human bodies of ours were not designed to last forever – or how gentle and pristine the stream you’re traversing happens to be, whether by careful manipulation or sheer luck, just about the only thing we have control over in this life is our attitude! Maybe that’s why “merrily” is repeated F.O.U.R. times – emphasizing the importance of adopting the right attitude as we travel down the stream of life.
So, as you ponder these words in a new light, what will your response be?
“Good morning, God!” or “Good God… morning…”
Live. On. Purpose.
“Life is full of intention.”
I overheard this admonition from a co-worker the other morning. Life is full of intention.
How very true!
It was humorous to eavesdrop on the conversation a bit longer – between the newly-hired receptionist and one of the business owners who, truth-be-told, is favoring the thoughts of retirement yet dragging his feet through every day of existence as if wading through wet cement. “You’re one of those” he accused her, as she practically danced from the copy room to the front lobby of the office.
Most would assume that an age difference between the two individuals played a large part in creating such a chasm, but they would be mistaken in this case; it’s purely a difference in attitude. And an attitude difference by choice! The business owner, whether intentionally or unbeknownst to even himself, chooses to go through his days with the most curmudgeon perspective while the receptionist looks forward to new opportunities, seeks out adventures, and views adversities as fortuitous contingencies for learning and growth. There is purpose and intent in the perspective chosen by each individual – in the simplest of terms: glass-half-full, or glass-half-empty.
Personally, I know there are days when the screech of the alarm ripping me from slumber and the peace I so treasure in the few blissful hours of rest I actually obtain each night sends me into a “wading through wet cement” state of mind, and I have to stop myself even before my toes touch the floor, petitioning for peace and grace, and I breathe in a prayer for the patience necessary to make it through whatever I may face once I’ve left the bed. But, then, I know there are also those days that I fail to recognize my inner curmudgeon, and burst into the storms of the day, a hurricane of emotion myself – ready to ravage peaceful villages and destroy whole communities with gale-force torrents! Where, on those days, do I place my intent?
Is there ever a situation when a drop in a still (not frozen!) pond does not create a ripple? Can purposefulness be left in the closet and only reached for when occasion calls for it, such as a rain coat, an umbrella, or a pair of sunglasses? Can intention be turned on and off like a light switch to suit a mood or circumstance? Or it is a fully-on, wholly-in commitment?
Life is full of intention.
I will have to “tattoo” this somewhere where I will see it and be reminded (by literal, visual sight, or merely by striking, uncomfortable metaphorical and/or physical pain…) that what I do, and how I act – and react – is a deliberate and intentional choice I make… Or rather, it should be!
Night and Day (100 word challenge)
As has become the Wednesday tradition, I am participating in @Bikurgurl‘s 100-word challenge (Week 6). Thank you for stopping by! (image credit: Bikurgurl 2016 )
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Opposite sides of the same coin – created equal, yet so vastly different! Insomuch as the night without the morning’s sunrise would be incomplete, the day without the rejuvenation of the night would be unbearable. Sweet and bittersweet in a lover’s dance, separated by circumstance, with the fire of temptation still burning between them. Walls built up of bygone encounters – emotions that once fed the soul are now boxed up and spirits that quenched the thirst for adventure, seemingly held captive in fragile glass bottles, as if the past could so easily be discarded. They say dark cannot exist without light…
~~~
Unique Boutique
I inquisitively peered beyond the façade today, and for a moment, felt my heart sink. Despite a presentable (at least I have been under the impression it was pleasing) storefront, I was awakened to disturbing details. Statistics… purely unhuman and infallibly cold calculations that do not consider ever being considerate, and stare back at the consumer, stone-faced but seemingly without malice or weapon, shattering dreams, hopes, aspirations, and tender hearts.
Twenty blog posts over the course of roughly twenty-two weeks (not counting this one). Over thirty followers now (and a most humble and sincere “thank you” to you all!!). But, in looking at my readership ratings, a most obvious and truly disheartening steady decline… My posting average still remains about 4 new blog posts per month; however, interest in what I am writing seems to have waned drastically. And I ponder if such significant lack of interest should predicate the captain’s call to abandon ship.
Now, of course, I could invoke the trusty ostrich philosophy, and bury my head in the sand, choosing to ignore the deafening silence played out in the melodic realism of the statistical evidence, as crystal clear and undisputable as any such findings. Conversely, I can fabricate rationalizations that support the finite statistics while leaving a glimmer of hope, such as: people have been busy with the timeliness of the holidays and all the effort, planning, preparation, and participation they entail, and leave blog-reading by the wayside. Another possibility is that some folks out there in the blogosphere, and beyond, suffer from the same two syndromes I too am burdened with: a reading disability that makes reading both incredibly difficult and time consuming (and after 10- to 12-hour workdays, eyes that just don’t want to focus anymore!), and simply, lack of free time to devote to pleasure reading! (I’ve been told that throughout the far reaches of the world, both ‘free time’ and ‘reading for pleasure’ are true events, and not merely works of fiction. I myself remain a skeptic; however, there is always opportunity for growth and a broadening of our understanding, right?)
Or, I can very well dim the illuminated open beckoning call, roll up the awning, shake the dust off the “welcome” mat, drop the window shades, and latch the doors secure amid a darkened dwelling place. Close up shop and proceed forward, or at least onward whatever the direction…
A possible detour (as is often the case in my life)?
I’ve been visited time and again (translation: haunted) by this quickly-spoken inspirational gem of wisdom, thinking it merely a bobble of whimsy, refusing to consciously allow it to penetrate to the inner depths of my consciousness. Why? Because it tore at my desire to be a people-pleaser, confounded my need for justification, and dispelled fallacies that acknowledgment and edification from others were the only signs of success. I was raised to believe without the praises of others, the conjoined trumpeting of the masses, one was nothing short of invisible; I’ve spent my entire life being invisible, and I was hoping that through my writing, at least one wayward beam of light would rest upon me – not fame and fortune, per se, but a hiatus from utter invisibility.
Specialty stores. (Hang on; this is the same post – I didn’t get lost!) Specialty stores: those small retailers that cater to specific needs and individualistic clientele. A vendor that specializes in offering men a wonderful shaving experience. The clothier that caters to infants and toddlers. Proprietors of anime collectibles. Comic book stores. A vegan bakery and café. A boutique that celebrates the craftsmanship and one-of-a-kind handmade goods of local artisans near high-traffic tourist venues.
I think you’ve got the idea.
But, truly, what is the point, and how does it all relate? Good question. Excellent question!
Let me explain:
One thing that these specialty shops have in common is their disregard for total and complete domination. Yes, they may strive for market position priority (that’s the three business degrees talking…); however, they are intuitive enough to not waste time and resources entertaining the masses while facilitating focused niche markets and boutiques that cater to a select clientele. They, instead, revel in those customers that enter, admire, and welcome with genuine interest the findings that adorn the shelves, baskets, racks, and display cases behind unassuming doors, foregoing the over-commercialized, mass-marketed branding that befalls the majority of retail reality. And those proprietors, those purveyors of fine-found treasures treasure those that have found them! They greet their guests, not worried about those other hurried shoppers looking for items that simply don’t exist within their havens – the vegan baker really isn’t concerned with flagging down a brood of motley teens, snacking on corn dogs and soft pretzels, because she understands her energy is better utilized baking delectable treats for her clientele, and pleasing their palates, nor will the children’s clothier aspire to make those same teenagers frequent visitors to his shop, as they, without need for children’s clothing, will be more of a distraction for the shop owner, whose attention, and heart, are with those who have come to partake in the boutique’s uniqueness, with intent.
Point being (listen, dear inner self!): understand that I am unique. Understand that what I offer is unique. Do not waste my energy and resources (translation: my emotions) trying to please the masses, when knowing full-well it is genuinely more rewarding to celebrate and treasure those that have found me to be a treasure without any benefit of over-commercialized, mass-marketed branding.
This is all a learning process – seeing myself as good enough, without outward confirmation – that is nowhere near its completion. I hope that by sharing my heart and my thoughts, some others may come to the same conclusion about themselves (even if it may only reach 30+ wonderful, caring individuals – nay, cherished guests! – gracious enough to be following this ‘specialty blog’).
Here’s to heart-satisfying and thought-provoking “retail therapy”!
Temporarily Permanent
Perspective.
What is it exactly?
By definition, perspective is “a particular attitude toward or way of regarding something; a point of view”. (It can also be defined as “the art of drawing solid objects on a two-dimensional surface so as to give the right impression of their height, width, depth, and position in relation to each other when viewed from a particular point”, and although it is arguable that life is art, I won’t be addressing artistic perspective, per se, today.)
I find it interesting – nay, intriguing! – how perspective influences our opinion. Much like experiences having leverage and significant impact on the dimension of our focus (see post Finding Humanity in Winter), one’s perspective in direct relation to a situation not only predicates the response given, it often monopolizes it, regardless of any previous experience to the contrary. Basically, if we’re in the dark and darkness is all we see, it is unfathomable to see anything more than darkness despite having experienced ‘light’ and ‘bright’ in the past.
Extreme? Perhaps. But nonetheless not necessarily untrue.
Illustration: Think back to the last time you had a severe cold, or the flu (or, if not yourself, a loved one that you helped care for during that time). Day Two or Day Three into the experience, the wretchedness of sinus pressure, the shredding pain of broken glass shards tumbling down your constricted, raw throat with each swallow, feverish chills forcing you deep under the tonnage of fleece and woven cotton only to be marred by the beads of sweat on your brow, and the ripping ache throughout your joints, restricting fluid movement, draining every ounce of energy out of your listless frame. Even to partake in a cup of lemon chamomile tea with honey or bowl of chicken noodle soup is a monumental chore. You lay there, tissue in hand, dabbing your swollen, chapped nose and expel the simple words illuminating your current perspective, “this flu is killing me!”
But, wait!
You’ve had the flu before. And you’ve, well, survived… And, despite that present position, deep within the recesses of snuggle blankets and menthol throat lozenge wrappers, the predominant prognostication is that you, indeed, will again escape the clutches of Death in a week or so – with plenty of rest and clear fluids – but you can’t see beyond the mounting pile of discarded tissues, drawing on faded memory, to know that you will see the light of another day. Your feet will touch ground again, gleefully participating in retail therapy. Your tongue will relish in fantastical feasts and roaring repartee. And yes, your heart will languish in the thought of wasting another breath in the living tomb which is your office cubicle… But you don’t see that; you see death. You see permanence in the temporary – darkness in the midst of residing in the dark, casting aside the lucid remembrance of healthier days…
Point made?
So, how is it that we shake off this “permanence in the temporary”, and realize things for what they are – or what they could be? How do we change our perspective even if our circumstance has not changed? If the physicality of something remains the same, how do we redefine it?
Several of my current circumstances can easily lend to melancholy and the ambiance of defeat. That’s not to say that there aren’t times when I succumb to these jesters and lose sight of things beyond the temporary; however, as the past chapter’s song floats away on the evening breeze and providence crashes upon a new calendar year (Hello, 2017! Let’s be friends, shall we?), I’m determined to remain aware of my perspective, adjusting it as one would a manual camera lens, allowing in light and clarity of focus, distilling shortsightedness, and capturing inspiration, catapulting me through – beyond! – the darkness and into the warmth of glowing hope, where once before I drew breath.
SMUDGED - A Writer's blog 