HOPE

This is perhaps one of the most touching visual metaphors
free of human tragedy or physical violence I've ever seen.

Haunting, heartwarming, truthful about timing

and inevitability.

It captures curiosity, memories, plans devised and dashed.
An offhanded time lapse documenting the best of us, we humans.
All along a NYC street.

 

I don't mind admitting to it made me smile
And it made me cry.
And it made me wish with all my heart that

the last few moments had happened a day earlier....

 

But most of all, this NYTimes Vids gift to me
was hope. Because in capturing it the author reminded me there's
good in humanity and in life at a time when that's very hard to

remember. Difficult to see. Each frame of image, each longing
reaching note of the background score touched my soul.

 

After all, HOPE is life raft of the battered heart....

It's the strength to move forward amid hopelessness and pain.

 

I wish for you, this season of Yule, a few contented notes
of music. A moment or two of happy memories. 

An unfettered minute of curiosity that you act upon with abandon.
(even on a city street)
I wish for you a dream that involves furniture dollies.
I wish for you the feeling of and trust in
  hope.....

amid these confounding and difficult times.

 

Warm holiday wishes to each of you who share my world here
I hope you somehow know how much your visits, comments, emails
add to MY days - thank you x many  :-) for finding the time to come here.

Heavy Hearts

There are so many

Heavy and broken hearts

in

Connecticut
New York
New Jersey

I can not think

What keeps the East Coast

From slipping into the sea

From the weight of the sadness

From the flow of tears...

 

I have no other words

I offer only tears shared.....



Messages Are Where You Find Them (or they find you)!

You can't control the weather

You can adjust the set of your sails 

 

Years and years ago at I time when nothing seemed within my control, within my say I came across a sign. A simple plastic sign. A sailing ship on a rugged bit of sea, sails filled with wind, moving it forward.

The quote above  emblazoned across the bottom.

 

You know, one of those odd times when great truth is discovered in a truly unlikely place. Fate had a point to make. Something to tell me.

Fate is a clever (and strange) lady...

 

I stood, staring at this extruded plastic, made by the thousands, sold cheap, never to be seen on  an HGTV decorator show (lol) sort of sign. Within minutes it (this one of thousands) was mine. I hung it
where I could view it at least once every day. It's message from fate/karma/the universe to me arrived at a time when my heart and spirit were adrift. I desperately needed answers.

 

Voila!
There it was, delivered in all its plastic glory.
 

It hangs still.
Always will.
Where I can see it at least once each day.

Because life  never becomes simple.

And I'll always be happiest if I remember I can choose to adjust
Adjust what I think, what I do, what I cease to do, the way I view things
 

I'd meant to tell you about this because, just possibly, its a message from fate that will help you too.

Thankfulness And Expectations

Thanksgiving.
The word, the concept and the holiday.
Each are seemingly straightforward (one would think).
One would be wrong.

Because amid the gray Thursdays, black Fridays, cyber Mondays and Plaid Saturdays
I put forward the possibility that we've grown a bit lost. And not only on
holiday-shopping-extravaganza-days....

 

There's no part of me that doesn't enjoy shopping, lol
For food or fun or vintage or material or (fill in the blank, lol)

And yet....and yet...

I can't escape the sound of chewing upon on the edge of my mind that says
"what about what you already HAVE"?

 

It seems endemic that the moment we 'have it' (whatever it may be)

it's counted as a given, irrevocable, permanent. No need to be

thankful for things one already possesses...Or is there?

Isn't that one of the foundation stones of Thanksgiving? Of life?

 

Life has shared with me that one of her profound truths is the transitory nature of everything.

Life itself, possessions, dreams, hopes, failure, success, power, health, weakness.
All things change, alter.
Yet it's so common within our society to expect what we have will remain the same.

One of the astounding, ever-present, beautiful and 'oft distressing aspects
of farm life is the dynamic day to day illustration precisely how life alters, changes.

Crops grow. Crops fail. Animals live and die. Hawks soar, animals they overfly become dinner. Winter snow and Summer rains become water in the well to sustain life for all on the farm.

 

There are times things go wrong. Things change.

Not enough water, not enough sun. Animal illness. Human illness. Insufficient firewood. It's perhaps easier to remain in touch here on this land,  depending upon nature and chance to see the truth that food, warmth, ease and contentment are not a 'given', not secured. Not permanent. Not by any amount of work or money or intention or hope. There are times things go wrong.

 

Those thoughts, the realities that I see all thru the year instigated the chewing, the wondering at the edges of my mind if it isn't important on Thanksgiving (and every day) to be thankful for the things we oh-so-casually are inclined to think of as permanent.

Because permanent is a word and an illusion, but is rarely if ever a truth or a fact.

 

I have never been desperately hungry or cold.
I have never been without decent clothing.

I have never been without a shower or tub.

I've never faced war or personal violence.

I have, thus far, had more to be thankful for

 than I tend to think of as often or deeply as I should.
I shouldn't think of any of these (or my other comforts and joys)
as permanent, as irrevokable as unchangeable, should I?

 

What I desire, what I seek can overshadow or eclipse

what I have if I don't pay attention.

 

Hey, I don't believe gray, black, cyber and plaid days can't coexist with thankfulness. I simply plan to remind myself things are not the foundation of Thanksgiving, nor of happiness, nor of life.

 

Monday Muse Day

                                                                  

    Three random pictures

from the homestead, picked today

Do they whisper something to you?

Will you share here what they say?!

 ~~~

 Just a bit of wool gathering, a bit of fun really :-)

If you'd like to join in, share a single word

(the first that comes to mind or otherwise)

that you think of when you see this picture montage....

Just One word.
(or more if you prefer)!!!

 

Perhaps a single word from a book or poem title?

Or one word snipped from a memory, or an impression, or emotion.

Easy Peasy - Just One Single Word.

I hope you'll join in and leave your "word" in the comments

on this, the next Monday Muse-day !
(PS Subscribe to comments to see everyones word, including mine

which I leave later in the week so as not to influence anyones first impression)

A Curious Truth

“I am glad that I paid so little attention to good advice.

Had I abided by it I might have been saved from some of my most valuable mistakes.”

Edna St Vincent Millay

Choices

Each morning begins the same
I'm gifted (because it's not a given)

A day, a pocketful of hours (24 to be precise)
Some I've spent already, on sleep and dreams
Necessary. Needed.

Some I'll spend on phone calls, bills, laundry, dishes.

Some days leave upon my steps, just outside my door
Challenges, unbidden. Some days, some hours are spent there.

But almost never is there a day when I can not choose
How to invest some moments of my day.
Hours on some days, moments on others.
But never has there been a day where not a single moment is mine to shape.
The trick, I've discovered, is choosing wisely, choosing well.
Tic-toc-the-unstoppable-clock allows me to decide....

Will I worry? Fret? Be vexed? Be annoyed.
Yes, sometimes.

Waste. So often, a waste. 

Will I smile? Be kind? If not forgive, at least forget? Count my joys?
Yes, sometimes.

I'd not toss money out the window, not leave the outer doors
Agape when the heat is running. Nor would I use my white blouse
To wipe a grape juice spill. That would be silly.

Yet I'm learning still to be a wise and better overseer of
My hours.
My days.

My moments.

I will not have a chance to call 'do-over' on any day once passed.
There's always tomorrow - (until there isn't that is....)
Note to self:
Make better choices, more often
With those hours that

Are
Mine...

 

 Issy ~  November 2012



Every Four Years

Once, every four years, the governmental system pauses. It waits. It listens. It listens to hears our voice. The voice of each of us, counting in the final tally. The system is obliged to hear and honor our choice. Our choice as individuals, as a collective, as a country, as a people.

This is a gift, won and maintained by honor and sacrifice - from the servicemen & women, to those who won the vote for women and minorities, to the diligent efforts of each and every polling staff - standing by, waiting.

Today we each matter, we each carry the honor of the very concept this country was founded upon ~ the freedom to choose, without fear, who will lead our country.

Please, please vote.

PS This just seen online and all I can say is: Go Chrysler!
(If only more employers could/would aid the pres. voting process) The auto manufacturer's vice president of

design at Chrysler tweets:

Chrysler gave its entire work force the day off to Vote Today! Let's go! #America
— @RalphGilles via Twitter for iPhone



Views Inside The Farm ~ November Nesting

On All Hallows, Always

Each Hallows of my life

I shall stand for a moment, silently, amid the power of nature
And acknowledge her wisdom ~ respect her power.

 

Each Hollows my heart beats
I shall pause, remembering with honor, my ancestors.
Their lessons thru the ages, now mine,
As mine will  pass one day into the future.

Each hollows that I again gaze upon the last October night
The full and perfect moon above, icon of magic and mystery
I will marvel at things known only to those of ancient ways

 

Each Hallows as the earth gives the last of her gifts
Turning towards her harsher, harder side

Until she brings Spring again
I will pause

Pause to remember, to celebrate, to understand that I am 

One single thread within the fabric of time.

Within the ancient traditions

Of earth and sky, fire and water.
Charged with the gift of another year
Of striving. Learning. Sowing kindness.

Until Samhain arrives upon the calendar of days once again.
And once again I am reminded of precisely
How important ~ and unimportant ~ I am ~ amid it all
Single thread in the fabric that I am...