Tag: joy

Lion, and Tin Man, and Scarecrow, Oh My!

One never learns how the witch became wicked, or whether that was the right choice for her – is it ever the right choice? Does the devil ever struggle to be good again, or if so is he not a devil? ~Wicked

Thank goodness for today! What a wonderful day spent with family. As our national celebration of the Day of Giving Gratitution is winding down, I only have a few clock ticks left to share what’s been on my mind. So, this will be unpolished and without a pretty pink bow atop adjusted just so. And there most definishly won’t be enough time to apply any glitter for that extra shimmer. It’s just me typing my thoughts on my technological pocket clock…

As I like to put a timestamp on my thoughts, my fellow Ozians and I are in our Wicked movie release era. Lion, and Tin Man, and Scarecrow, oh my! Ballyhoo, butterflies, and bubbles galore! I’m obsessulated. Some of us switched gears from orange glitter in October, to pink going good with green in November. From Showgirl to Girl in the Bubble. It’s been a truly festivating fall! Don’t mind me just singing and dancing through life over here…

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Bears in the Night

The dark does not destroy the light; it defines it. It’s our fear of the dark that casts our joy into the shadows. ~ Brené Brown

“WHOOOOOOO!!!” The vivid hoot of the night owl awoke me from my slumber, and I cried out in fright. Except…it wasn’t a real owl; I opened my eyes to the darkness of the room and slowly came to my senses. It seemed as dark as the midnight, but it couldn’t have been much past nine o’clock. Maybe if I keep squinting, I’ll be able to see what the little red numbers say on that clock sitting on the dresser in this now distant memory of my childhood bedroom. The light in the hall cast looming shadows onto the walls. Hearing the cry, my mom rushed into my room to see what was wrong. Three-year-old me with blonde hair at the time, wearing my favorite blue pajamas, was crying my big brown eyes out while sitting on my bed. My mom in her navy blue robe adorned with tiny pink and white flowers, held me close and listened to me describe the scary owl who had felt so real. Like a night-light in the darkness, she came to the rescue and assured me…it had just been a bad dream…

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Letter to Helen

To my great-grandma Helen ~ Mother of my grandma. Matriarch of the family. Lady of mystique.

Dear Helen ~ You don’t know me, but I’ve heard stories about you all my life. I’m your daughter Sheri’s oldest granddaughter. I wish I could have met you; you’re the missing person I’m often wondering about. The older I get, the more I think about you and your impact on our family, and how at age 36, I’m a year older than you were when you were gone way too soon from this life. I often wonder how different our lives would have been had you been here with us. I think your story in particular is why I feel emotions so deeply. Why I have always thought about life and death so seriously. Why I want to live life to the fullest amount of joy and passion possible. We aren’t guaranteed a long life on this earth: we only have this present moment…

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Terpsichorean Motion

“This is your time, this is your dance; live every moment, leave nothing to chance. Swim in the sea, drink of the deep; embrace the mystery of all you can be.” ~ Michael W. Smith

An idea has been oscillating in my head as of late. Of movement, nature, and time as one divine thing. Ticking clocks, the sound of Irish pipes, love songs, and a sky filled with stars. And a coming of age and innocence. Some thinkers perceive the ancient Greek goddess/muse of dance as a metaphor for the cosmic dance to which the entire universe moves. Terpsichore. “Delight in dancing” is what her name means. Yes, she’s a myth, but imagine: a powerful, radiant woman personified as the passion and rhythm of this universe. A force of orderliness that can’t be escaped. That is a beat to which I can sync.

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