Personal observations as I look at life leaving bread crumbs to provoke, prod and ask myself and others "what if?" and "what could be?" and "what is our calling?"
I began a path, though I knew not where, to a journey’s end that was calling. Along the way I paused to absorb the metaphors and images of this life, which are so precious. Here you will find me when I was brave, pondering, searching, and collecting the images and metaphors like shells upon the beach.
I do not have it all figured out. One thing I do know and that is how to collect the shells on the beach of my beloved Gulf Shores. I have offered these shells to you. None are perfect, but then, I have always preferred imperfect shells and their character, their stories and textures.
The journey is not over, but now, takes a different course. The tide and time are calling for a new path. It is time, to leave these shells and follow a new sunrise. To all who have followed me and have taken the time to look at my little shells, I am truly honored and humbled.
As I say good bye to the blog, Hope's Breath, i leave one final shell for each of you: May your journey be soft. May you always see Nature and hear her voice. May you always pause to see. May you always look for what you do not see. When the seasons have ended may your pockets be full of shells, little ears whispering to you of wonderful journeys and the sound of the surf.
Thank you all. Namaste. Shalom. I bow from the waist and bend my neck to each of you Peace to you, and to our world.
She is bare but she is not dead nor is she dormant. Nature knows to send her roots deep into the earth when the harsh winter strikes. Even now, spring is emerging within the roots buried deep. Matters not that we cannot see. Her limbs do not go limp thinking all is lost, their seasons have ended, winter has stripped their leaves and hope. From beneath the earth, where there is no sun, where life once ended goes to rest, the roots draw forth life, strength and nourishment.
She is bare but she is not dead nor is she dormant. Her roots are deep into the earth tickling the seeds of spring and whispering, 'weary one, look at me.'
Though beautiful, stoic, strong and rooted as she is, Nature's reminder to peel back the bark and look beyond. Sometimes fragile eyes are the best way to see.
I look through the pane. In my silence and vision I feel the aching and throbbing of need and yearning. I hear the heartbeat of life and hope. Together they gather all the disparate parts of my life that define, segment or confine me.Their sound and sensations awaken me, breathe life and make me whole. I believe.
Tonight, when the host or hostess looks over my shoulder and beside me, and then mutters, "Table for one?" I will smile and politely correct him or her. "No thank you. A table for me, please."
Probably one of, if not the, most universally recognized symbol - the heart. The distinguishing feature, its design separating it from all other shapes, forms and images is the crest and fall. The union bent and bowed, the dent.
She has grown up. She doesn't think herself small. She can walk now. She is starting to talk. She is letting the world know what she wants and does not want. She laughs. She runs for hugs. She stands in front of strangers until they smile. She loves without fear. She never doubts that life will, with tender love, fill in the holes. She still looks out the window. She takes time to see.
On this, the first day of 2011, may I become as wise.
I have begun a path, though I know not where, to a journey’s end that is calling. Along the way I pause to absorb the metaphors and images of this life, which are so precious. Here you shall find me brave, you shall find me pondering, you shall find me searching, and you shall find me collecting the images and metaphors like shells upon the beach. I am very much like the little monkey wearing a dapper hat, playing the cymbals and drum and dancing a jig. I do not have it all figured out, I may be learning to write, but one thing I do know and that is how to collect the shells on the beach of my beloved Gulf Shores. I offer these shells to you.
