Tag: shadows

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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The Wound, the Wind, and the Wizard

“All the variety, all the charm, all the beauty of life is made up of light and shadow.” ~ Leo Tolstoy

I find myself drawn to both light and darkness, and by this dichotomy I am often perplexed. I guess it explains my fascination with the idea of shadows. And the moon. In cryptic prose, I often reflect on the topic of pain. Maybe if I finally chronicle this story, I’ll be able to let the pain of the past go…

The wizard ~ I was peering through the lens of apprehension as my eye appointment neared the shore of reality. Perhaps I was less than optimistic because instead of one, it had been two years since my last visit. But eight tests, four cornea specialists, and two hours later, everything appears to be fine. My eyes are “quiet” as the wizard says. Unbeknownst to him, that’s how I refer to my eye doctor. A world-renowned surgeon. A miracle worker. A man who once told me in his dry sense of humor, “I don’t have a crystal ball,” when he couldn’t conjure up a vision of my future eye health for my peace of mind…

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