that's mrs. mediocrity to you

Today I am over at Amy Oscar’s place,

as part of her Summer Wisdom Series:

Blooming.

I was so honored that she invited me to participate,

and would love it if you stopped over to say hello!

there is never enough

there is always too much

time mocks me from the corner

as i pace the perimeter

of this room

this life

that keeps me laughing

crazy silly insane girl

laughter

sometimes

yes

but always

laughing.

::

it’s the echo

that drives

me.

::

::

::

this post is part of one shot poetry wednesday

It’s been a strange year. Almost since day one, something felt off to me, some rhythm has been missing, something has been off kilter, off balance, out of place.

Something I cannot quite put my finger on, in just the same way that you cannot put your finger on the reflection in a puddle without causing a ripple that erases everything you see.

And I don’t mean to say it has been all bad, it has been a good year in many respects, but I just can’t seem to gain my footing, I can’t seem to get back to normal.

I think that some years are like that. Filled with questions and quandaries and dilemmas and decisions and injuries and healing. Clearly, this is one of those years.

And it’s okay. Time has a way of working all these things out.

So I’m going to sit here for a while, quiet, very still, with my hands in my pockets, and just stare at this reflection.

And when I’m ready, which will be sooner than later, I’m going to touch a fingertip, every so gently, to the surface.

Because normal is just a notion and there is life

happening all around me.

::

it’s a plane…

it’s the place where

all that treasure

is buried in the sky…

::

tell me,

what do you see?

::

summer night

purple glow of

twilight

softly shadowed

insight

a dragonfly

pause

in mid-flight

::

::

::

this post is part of one shot poetry wednesday

put your heart into everything you do.

there are times when it’s okay to stay quiet.

give of yourself and your time, freely.

if you can’t fall asleep sitting up,
well, you’re just not tired enough.

take care of what you have.

comfort comes before fashion.

kindness is the cornerstone of love.

if you have the right tools,
you can fix almost anything.

giving up is not an option.

your family is who you are.

integrity helps balance out mistakes.

whistling while you work is the
best way to make the time fly by.

patience isn’t a virtue, it’s a way of life.

the bigger your heart, the bigger your life.

showing up counts for more than you think.

a sense of humor, and learning to laugh
at yourself, will get you through.

::

thanks, dad

::

::

This image is part of Texture Tuesday over at Kim Klassen’s Cafe.
Click here to check it out or join in the fun!

::

nature is laced

with

contradictions.

::

::

what you said was always so different

than what you meant

and what you meant was almost

never there.

::

but you had that smile

playing music in its curves

one note always stuck

to the corner.

::

::

::

this post is part of one shot poetry wednesday

::

make me.

::

I was taking pictures across a gully of an object to her right that I could not identify. I didn’t see her, although I must have been standing there for several minutes, trying to figure out what the strange object was. It was only when I gave up and started to walk away that I caught those ears out of the corner of my eye.

Ears almost bigger than her head, listening, alert. Knowing that I had no way to reach her, but aware, just the same. She never moved, never shifted a nostril or and eyelid, just stared at me, perhaps wondering if there was any danger from this woman with that black clunky thing held up to her eye. Or perhaps she was simply curious.

Almost, I missed her. With my eye trained through the lens of my camera, I failed to see what was right there in front of me. It’s not the first time this has happened, and sometimes it is a good thing, like when the heron flew through the spot my lens was focused on.

But it made me wonder what else I might have missed along those five miles, as I walked and then limped and for the last half mile or so, cursed a little. And yes, one of the reasons I went for this walk was to take pictures. But I forgot, in my mission, to be there. I forgot to just walk, to soak up the sun, to breathe in the smell of woods and wildlife, to pay attention.

Almost, I missed her.

Just another reminder on another day that life is always happening all around me, whether I pay attention or not, whether I choose to focus on what’s inside my head or what’s outside my body.

I wondered if it’s the same for her. Does she ever forget where she is, lost in memory or preoccupation with what’s for dinner?

I’d like to think not. I’d like to think that she saw me approach, sat very still as I took my photos, and smiled to herself at my complete lack of awareness. I’d like to think that she’s better at this than I am, this living. I’d like to think that she knows something I don’t.

Lesson learned? Perhaps. Except I know that I will forget again, one day soon, when I have more things on my mind than I can keep track of.

But in the end, I saw her. I didn’t miss her, not completely. The corner of my eye is still good for some things. I’m not completely unaware of my surroundings. But I do need to slow down a little, enough to catch my breath and enjoy the place I’m standing in.

That’s what she taught me from across that gully. We didn’t need words or gestures or sound. She made me understand, as I stood there, that life only moves as quickly as you let it. That stopping for a rest on a sunlit afternoon never hurt anything.

There was no danger, there.

Only wisdom.