I saw the sun yesterday afternoon. Tears welled up in my smoke-irritated eyes. It seems like weeks since I saw blue skies and breathed fresh air. I am fortunate to live in the one of most beautiful places in the world; The Pacific Northwest, unfortunately at the moment we have the worst air quality in the world. Fires have been raging along the states of the west coast. My state of Oregon is one of them.We are literally on fire here. There is a big one called the Riverside Fire, it is the closest to us. Clackamas county only a half a mile south of us was and is currently under some sort of evacuation notice and for a time I was scared that we might have to evacuate ourselves. So far so good but we are not out of the woods yet. Ugh. Bad joke.
It has been quite a year for everyone and I am ready for some boring times because I am very tired of the interesting ones.I sit here by the window watching our backyard squirrels busy getting ready for the changing season. They are acting much the same out there in the smokey air. My indoor cat is a bit perturbed at me for curtailing our walks. And our resident hummingbird seems to be filling up its gas tank readying itself for migration. I have a feeling I may have to migrate someday. We all may face some more interesting times in the future but right now at this moment I am grateful to sit here by the window and gaze out at the green trees through the haze. I notice the sky has brightened a smidgen. I know there are brave people that have come from all over the world to help and they are out there fighting for us. I am grateful. My heart breaks for all the destruction and deaths, the human ones and all the animals who have nowhere to evacuate to. I feel a special kinship with the animals of the forest. I even feel like one of them at times. My protectors, my heart and soul; the trees are burning and I feel so damn helpless.
We can only do what we can and spread our little bits of good around whenever and wherever we are able. I am off to clean out and refill the water containers I have outside for our furry friends. Its the least I can do.
Stay safe, take care out there, wherever you may be.
…well I used to have one. I mean I used to write one, quite regularly; at least twice a week. I wrote over 200 posts, most of them fairly long. They are on an array of subjects, some of them are okay, some kinda good.
It was a labor of love really. I poured my heart out loud into the universe. I expressed myself. I made friends from all over the world I would chat with. I had fun and I also had lots of time on my hands, much more than I do now.
Time, that awful excuse. I doubt I lack talent, It is in there somewhere. And I do have something to say and a orgasmictorium of stories inside my crazy brain. I can blame the lack of time or place but it is I who makes my own circumstance. Time ticks away, yes that damn time always ticking in the background.
No one lives forever…even childlike creatures such as myself…
I know I must make it a priority.
And thinking,,,pondering. THAT is essential!
One of the problems with this society is that not enough thought is given, we are all much too busy wrapped up in “the drudgery of everyday existence and all that” I like many of you wonder what is the point?
Hard not to. I sit here on a rare silent Saturday. It is early morning. The sun is streaming through the window and I am on floor, sitting with my trusty white laptop. It has seen “better” days, I suppose. The O and L keys are completely worn away along with the I. Half the E is gone and the N is on the verge of disappearing altogether. To add the that the seven is coming off and it is filled with about 5 years of memories, pieces of my life encased in pixels. If anything such as this could hold a part of a person, this computer contains a part of me.
I have changed over the years. I have gone beyond my comfort zone, I have outed and declared myself and have freed myself from much which did not serve me. I have busted out of my shell and I am ready to contribute more. I have learned some lessons as I continue to do. This late bloomer is still blooming
Just one more thing, the writing part..
My ex boyfriend/partner, the man I lived with for 17 years (also known as MM to those who have been around for a while) said that my problem was that I wrote too much about myself. He told me a lot of things, much I believed, much I now know was wrong.
I told him there are a million writers in the world, all with something to say. I am a mere drop in the bucket, a soul pouring myself out into a silent universe…but I am unique. just like everyone of us. There is only one me, whatever that means. The best thing I can write is what comes from my heart, from my soul and that is what I must do. I cannot do any less.
I happen to know more about myself than anything or anyone. But I also know that I am not the only one who feels the way I do. Others can and do relate. We are all connected even we we are apart.
and so…MM is in the old house with the cats. I am here with my new cat and new love. A lot has changed in the past year, but not my desire to write and as always I lament my lack of writing time as I pound these white fading keys…
Let’s see what I can come up with.
Thanks for stopping by. This blog is NOT completely dead.
Totally “unrelated” stuff I put in for the hell of it.
The wilds touch my back door. A part of them does anyway. Strangeish insects and unfamiliar Corvids enliven the “wilds”of my new backyard. Tall skinny Evergreens surrounded by persistent English ivy. Small deciduous trees that await new spring leaves dot the landscape accented by bright green moss providing splashes of color that reminds me that spring really truly here.
A tiny brook babbles on by fifteen feet below. I can hear frogs in the morning and the friendly neighbor’s cat comes to greet me in the bright but cool sunshine. I am beginning to attune to my new atmosphere.
It is different here but I find much beauty in this newness.
I am now an apartment dweller. My big yard has been replaced by this woodsy spot with two cement slabs and the before-mentioned surrounding moss which will now serve as my garden area. I have three large pots, empty for now. I will certainly get more. Out of the thousands of plants in my old yard I brought only one; the meadow rue. It lies dormant under the soil in an indigo planter awaiting warmer weather. It wasn’t a choice I wanted to make but in order to make a new life for oneself one must put aside the old.
I have done a lot of that lately; setting aside.
After a 17 year relationship I parted ways with someone who wasn’t good for me. My trusting nature and naivety paired with my wholehearted belief in redemption kept this damaging storm rolling much too long despite the, obvious to others, unhappiness it was bringing me. When living inside the eye of the hurricane; the epicenter of emotional and psychological abuse, you can’t see how bad it really is. Over time the abnormal can become the normal.
And a deep sadness can embed itself in you and you don’t realize how awful it really is in part because if you stop and do this it will break your heart and maybe you can’t go on. And so I put what I thought was a convincing happy face to the word and went on. Inside a hole grew and grew and in time, by the end of those 17 years, it was a giant gaping hole…a chunk torn out of me and beat to hell.
My yard which was in it’s entirety what I deemed my salvation would have to be left behind. My cats too. Spotsy and my Mario would stay with the house and the yard and it’s owner. I left with my two kids ( 18 and 21 ) to go live in an apartment across town. A new place of sanctuary. A place of freedom with my name on the lease.
It’s different but it is becoming home. Home is really in the people you are with not the place anyway.
I was fortunate to meet someone at work. An amazing person I knew that I knew the instant we met. I have been having the pleasure of getting to know him ever since. We all live together in this apartment that skirts the edge of this thin strip of urban woods.
There is a freeway that lies beyond it. I can hear the traffic, its steady hum sounds like the ocean to me, it is easy to drift to sleep to.
I feel free and happy and loved. I feel confident and hopeful, more than ever.
The hole in my soul is filled, love pours out and spills out into the world. I am grateful. I thank God everyday. I am blessed beyond measure. I have the opportunity to start anew and this I will do, This I am doing.
Now this is not the end. It is not even the beginning of the end. But it is, perhaps, the end of the beginning.
Winter has come. It has descended from the sky like a great and terrible bird; declaring itself with a wicked wind that howls and screeches. Gripping you in it’s talons and keeping you there–chilling you to your bones. Bringing along a blanket of snow and ice that has worn out its welcome days ago, much of it trampled on, trodden on and fouled with soot and dirt and yellowish stains.
It is dark and cold; about 15 ºF with the windchill. I have deemed this yet another “3 layer day”, I am bundled up head to toe, all in black except for a flourish of hot pink scarf. I stand out against the whitish snow and in the moonlight. The beautifully bright and full moon has been kind to us early risers sticking around for a viewing well past the time I catch the 4:59 a.m. train.
These are the days that will make me appreciate summer all the more I think. It is hard to see out the windows out into the darkness but I can make out in that same kind moonlight Under some of the bridges and overpasses I can see the outlines of tents flapping in that horrid wind.
I don’t know how I would fare out there without a home in the cold. I bitch and complain bundled up in my new warm coat, on my way to a nice warm office building. I have nothing to complain about.
The train gets me downtown where I catch an express bus that takes me the rest of the way. It is quite a commute but affords me the time to think. This I haven’t had for a while.
The sun is rising as the bus careens down the highway, making up for lost time I suppose. The sky is pink and orange; strange and beautiful against the whiteness of everything. streets. Metal towers and giant apartments are starting to litter the skyline as never before. There is a building boom. It seems everyone wants to move to quirky Portland.
The bus takes me to a suburb called Tualitin. I have a new job. It is better than the last one. I have a lot to be grateful for.
I can’t help but laugh at the poor lost ducks on the frozen pond that is adjacent to the building, they stand there waiting for everything to return to normal.
Nothing ever returns to “normal”. Just the definition of what normal is, changes.
We are born of Chaos. A singularity known as the Big Bang sent forth into being an ever expanding commencement of all things.
Clouds of dense gas and swirling universes come together and are pulled apart….Stars are born, they shine and explode and then die. Black holes devour all they touch. Galaxies collide spraying stars into eternity. Particles are continuously being created and destroyed; blinking in and out of existence akin to a ginormous Schlesinger’s Cat.
We are born of hydrogen and oxygen, of nothingness and of everything. We are truly stardust come down to Earth.
Our home this planet has had a violent past and without all that disarray and upheaval we would not be here today.
We come from chaos and someday we’ll return there too. This is how infinity perpetrates itself.
We are a part of that.
As we are a part of everything.
Albert Einstein once said that in the middle of difficulty lies opportunity. He knew that a stirring of the waters can sometimes conger up the fish. We know from history that many a good thing can result from many a bad thing indeed and if necessity is the mother of invention then perhaps chaos can be the father of the creative thought that sparks that necessity.
Fate forces our hand and we must act, even inaction is a form of action or reaction. We can go with the flow or fight it. Life is a raging river, never standing still, always moving, never the same…change is the only constant.
The death of one can come about the birth of another
Chaos is raw violence. It rips apart what was to make room for what will be. In it’s upheaval change does not waiver. It is indifferent to fate. It just is. Change devours the status quo. In its varying degrees it can make quite an impact. Life ebbs and flows. Stability returns with the growth that follows upheaval. Life is but a dance between the two extremes seeking to find an undulating balance between them.
Music interrupts silence and color disturbs the black and white. The peanut butter in my ice cream has only increased it’s tastiness to me
Imagine a world that never changes, a river that never flows, a planet that has lost its spin. Imagine a world without the audacity of daybreak. Imagine a blank piece of paper where words will never be. Imagine the leaves never falling off the trees, or crying babies never being born, imagine the butterfly never emerging from her chrysalis and becoming the butterfly she is meant to be…
This is why we need chaos you see…
Despite the pain of upheaval. Wonderful things can be found among the ruins. Sometimes it can be oneself.
I am myself at a time in my life where I have found the courage to make some drastic life changes. I write this as I sit in my new apartment, my name on the lease. It is mostly devoid of things for now but it holds the most precious thing of all: Love. The love that this place abounds in. I am truly blessed to have people around me that love me and encourage me to be the best me I can be. An unexpected butterfly landed on my shoulder one day last February and I haven’t been the same since. I found the strength to leave a situation that was not healthy for me or my children. I have taken upon myself to change this situation that I had lived with for many years. I will continue to keep you posted. Suffice to say I am happy and excited!!
Look deeper through the telescope and do not be afraid when the stars collide towards the darkness, because sometimes the most beautiful things begin in chaos.” ― Robert M. Drake
“If you look the right way, you can see that the whole world is a garden.” ~Frances Hodgson Burnett
The sky is bright. The day is new and I am out in the neglected garden, busy as a bee, foolhardily attempting to resurrect order into chaos. I feel wonderful out here in the fresh air and sunshine. It is a spectacular Saturday. I have the whole day ahead to do whatever I want and this is what I want.
I miss it out here and from the looks of it it misses me. It is a cornucopia of green things vying for space and light. I liken this tangled mess to my mind and life in general; bursting with wild, colorful and impatient things…lush, exuberant and messy. Tending the soil has given me metaphor upon metaphor upon on which to reflect and the act of gardening itself allows my mind to meander down strange and unusual and often very creative paths.
I am more of a scientist really than an oranmentalist. I like crazy wild. I shy away from the straight line. I will allow a mysterious plant to grow, just to see what it turns out to be. Most of the time it turns out to be just a common weed but once in a while serendipity will shine on me with something new and wonderful. Life is like that I think too.
It is labor intensive here. I set all this up when I had oodles of time on my hands. I didn’t have to do much at work and life came pretty easy. My garden, my sanctuary as I called it, was my respite from the world, a world I was very much afraid of. It was here I started this blog and the blogger Strawberryindigo was born. In a little converted garage we call the studio I typed and typed and purged my heart out.
I think about that now; how far I’ve come. They say where our heart lies there lies our treasure. Once my yard was my treasure. It was pristine, nary a weed or grass-blade out of place. I worked hours at a stretch, this is where I gained my satisfaction in life but it was lonely being so afraid of the world…
Through design and through fate via a series of sales related jobs has forced me out of my comfort zone again and again, so much it is a common occurrence. Once I gain mastery I go onto the next challenge. I am cultivating my garden. I am accepting myself as I am but weeding out what does not serve me to make room for the more beautiful things that do. Beautiful things we all can enjoy. I am cultivating friendships where I did not before and now my garden is not so lonely anymore.
My goal is to spread goodness and light in my own small way; planting seeds along my path. Some may not take root but others will, growing into something wonderful. I figure the more seeds I plant the more flowers that will grow…
…and so here I am pulling weeds thinking about this and there I spy a butterfly; a swallowtail. It is headed for the butterfly bush. I run and get my camera. It is kind enough to stick around for a few photos
I get excited at this sort of event , and yes seeing a butterfly is an event to me! I lay back in the grass. The breeze cools my sweaty brow. I am totally living in that moment and then as if on cue nature rewards me with a smallish flock of sweet little birds who make tiny hops around the branches of the tree next me, they make cute little chirpings the sort you’d expect from birds such as this.
I am happy…
I watch honeybees visit the white clover flowers in the grass. They carefully buzz from one to the next fast and efficiently. Their devotion to their task inspired me to leave this wild area in the grass, unmown and full of clover, the patch has grown since last year.
I am an avid bee watcher although I don’t have the time like I used to…
My mind drifts to the story I was reading earlier that queried if bees dream and then what do they dream about? The whole prospect of bees dreaming intrigues the hell out of me and the writer of the article states that bees when kept from sleeping (yes, bees sleep) tend to forget where all the good flowers are.
This makes a whole lot of sense. I think that we humans could learn a few things from our friends the bees:
A busy bee still finds time to dream. It is those wonderful dreams made into fruition by hard work that create beautiful gardens.
“Everything takes time. Bees have to move very fast to stay still.” ―David Foster Wallace
And the next morning, when I wake up, I am reborn.” ~Mahatma Gandhi
Each day is a new beginning, a chance to begin again. We shed the confining skin of yesterdays troubles, concerns and “mistakes” and emerge anew full of life and with the vitality of hope and exuberance, at least I hope so. At least that is what I tell myself at 7:15 a.m. while on my way to my newest adventure.
My year and a half long foray into retail at a well known-they-have-a-parade big chain department store has ended and I am stepping right inside another and very different job with just one day in between. It was an easy decision to make. I am getting more hours at more pay with less work. It was sad to leave nonetheless. I have met so many wonderful and amazing people there and that is what makes a place; the people I work with. I also liked the quick pace and flurry of activity, and although I excelled at that job and felt comfortable there, my dissatisfaction with a lack of opportunity has made me seek it elsewhere.
It’s scary to go out of one’s comfort zone as I am doing it once again. I was just settling in which I found myself jumping. Truth be told I do feel like I need to make up for lost time, which at 46 I really do. I have been feeling more outgoing and confident in the last year and this has prompted an ambition in me which I didn’t know I possessed and this has surprised me.
It seems everything is beginning to come together and it feels great.
These thoughts race through my mind as we turn the corner and the mountain comes into view. MM is so correct when he told me about the sunrises here. The morning sky is a vibrant purple erupting with brilliant tangerine. Wow! It is an almost surreal scene and it lends an air of excitement to the morning I didn’t expect…like I needed more excitement on my first day. I choose to see it as a good sign and MM sees at as a sign that he should pull over because I will want to snap some shots and he is so right again.
I marvel at the way life can abruptly change; just like that. One day you wake up to one reality and then the next day you can be living an entirely new one. Each day has it’s own distinct sunrise, it’s own set of challenges and moments of serendipity. Some days are so bloody fantastic that you have to pinch yourself just to make sure you aren’t dreaming. While others are more akin to nightmares. Most days fall someplace in between. Every day memories are being created and etched into our minds, memories that make us who we are and what we will be. There are days that can break us but these are the days that can make us stronger. Every day is a risk. To leave your house is a risk, to never leave is one also. The uncertain is fraught with perceived risk. Whether this is entirely justified is unclear to me.
Taking on a new job is a risk. To go out of one’s comfort zone and try anything new takes a fair amount of courage. I will confess I am a bit nervous on my first day but the sky invigorates me. I take it all in. My heart pounds, my pulse races. I feel so alive! A warm surge of excitement fills and tickles my every molecule. I’m living in the moment from sunrise to sunrise, one step leads to the next and I take it all in like I do the sky; my life, the new people that I meet. This is scary but it is good…
And now two weeks have passed…
I have good days. I have had not so good ones. All in all it’s been a positive experience. I now work in an office out by the airport that has big windows so I can always see the sky. I keep regular hours and have weekends to spend with my family. During lunch I go for “nature” walks. So far I have seen a fox and a bumblebee and numerous birds. Spring will soon be here. I can feel it. I can see it in the tiny crocus erupting from the ground in my backyard, I can hear it in the song of the birds in the morning and I can see it in the glorious sunrise I see in the morning. I am happy and content. Life is good and it’s getting better all the time.
A sampling of the beauty I am fortunate to witness . My cheap little camera does not do it justice…
I sit and stare at the blank page waiting to be filled with splashes and sploshes of delightful and colorful words. Words that convey a profound wisdom and grace. Words that draws one in. Words that come alive. Words that tease the imagination and beckons you to play. You have fun all day in the sun and before you realize it, you’ve learned something. At least I want my writing to be like that but lately….not so much…
I remember when I started blogging. I would read many a post from a fellow blogger who would begin the post with a “Sorry I’ve been gone so long but...” I swore I would never do that but it seems like I’m doing that now.
I could say that I’ve haven’t had much time to write but who does really? I know one must make time to write and I haven’t done that. I suppose I haven’t wanted to or I haven’t had anything to say. I seem to be running away from something. My thoughts perhaps? There is a running dialogue that presents itself to me. It fills my mind and it races almost too fast for me to keep up. I will read things I have written previously and be awestruck at the strangeness of it. I recognize bits of myself but other bits I don’t recognize quite as well.
I have been using my travel time to work to just sit. I zone out and allow my mind to be still which usually leads to some interesting meandering. I’m taking it all in; whatever crosses my path on my journey literally and figuratively. I just allow myself to just be.
Writing has always been therapeutic. I’ve put my feelings down in words ever since I could hold a pencil. It’s been my outlet to the outside world. Starting this blog and writing over 200 posts has profoundly changed me. I’ve grown in leaps and bounds over the last four years. Never can I go back to what I once was. I must forge ahead. Part of that forging is taking my writing to the next level. I haven’t submitted much as I find I have nothing I deem worthy.
Putting heart and soul out there in words is what I do best, but there are a million others who can say the same thing. Who am I to presume that I have anything to say that anyone would want to hear, must less pay for? I realize now that I should abandon my hope of being a paid writer as money cannot be my focus. I have to go where my heart lies and seldom in this life do the two go hand and hand.
I have been distracted by life and rightly so. Whatever I write is not only deeply effected by my current experiences, it is built on them. I put myself into it. I don’t know of any other way.
I have been conflicted as of late on what to write at all really. I have some bits and pieces that I have written lately, many are tinged with an anger at the state of the world. I am a crazy idealistic dreamer who goes on pessimistic forays now and then but I always return with a renewed sense of vigor. This is vigor has been rising up but is confused as to which way to go. I always have to have a answer. I cannot seem to finish a writing piece without having the issue settled in my mind and it seems everything is up in the air and I don’t have all the answers. I’m learning that is okay too.
I’m trying to live in the moment and just take life in. I am grateful for what I have and I am enjoying whatever comes. I am content but restless. I feel like something is left undone and I have a strange feeling of deja vu right now. It’s like my future self is rooting for me to do the right thing —whatever that is. Honestly I don’t know sometimes…
I also have been finding myself getting lost the beauty of the words of others such as those of Mary Oliver who has in the short span of a year has become one of my favorite writers. I feel a kinship with her writing. I love the whimsy and the focus on the small and quiet things of nature, on that which is difficult to hear but essential to the ear. I’ve been ordering them one by one from the library. I look forward to cracking open a new book . Her words have made me laugh and cry, they have delighted and amused me, they have made me think. Never before have I been so emotionally affected by writing. Her words are so real, so poignant and oh so lovely. They are a beautiful escape to me. I see myself there, I identify and find kinship there. And then it dawns on me; that maybe I can do some of that too, in my own way. Provide an escape. A refuge in words and imagery for others to retreat to too. Writing doesn’t have to be “important” all the time, or wise or impressive to mean something to someone. To touch another person with words is amazing and I would love someday to be able to touch people like Mary Oliver has touched me.
Something to ponder on a cold and windy day in November….
Seems like I’m back for a spell.
“Instructions for living a life. Pay attention. Be astonished. Tell about it.” ― Mary Oliver
Change comes in starts and fits; it ebbs and flows along the river of life–always moving, flowing along…each moment bleeding into the next . The seasons change. Exuberant Spring quickly turns to lush Summer and then is gradually replaced by the deepening beauty of Autumn. I feel every part of it; this cycle of life. It seemed there was a time not very long ago when life was eternally young. I was always in a hurry to get on with things. It was always “what’s next?”. It wasn’t until I grew a bit older and became a mother; when I was able to see life vicariously through a pair of newer but different eyes, that’s when I realized the significance of these small seemingly insignificant moments.
Being a parent changed me like nothing else. The experience has shown me the importance of being there for someone. It has shown me the strength of love and the power of devotion. Motherhood made me strong where once I was weak. It was on a Winters day back in 1994 when I gave birth to my son, that was the day I began to become who I am today.
Where once I was a rebellious teen I become a resilient adult. I have never lost the ideals of youth. Sure, I have tempered my dreams with reality but I’ve never given them up and I never will. To stop dreaming is to stop living. And I plan to go on living for a long time.
I suppose one could call it hibernating; what I’ve been doing. I’ve stayed away from blogging and writing in general. I have been engaged in the “Art of Living”. The day to day. The grind. The moment. I have taken a side job selling men’s clothes in an well-known upscale department store for the upcoming Holiday season. I’ve never done retail before and am finding the change refreshing. It’s nice to get out of a lonely two-person office and out into the world of rampant consumerism.
Gone is the long commute of last year and replaced by a short 15 minute drive. Yay! Time is too valuable to waste on a insane commute of 3 hours a day. My pay is less but I am much happier. For so many reasons I am much happier.
I am finally facing myself; my demons, my weaknesses, whatever you call them. I am finally getting my birdbrain out of the sand and I’m opening my eyes and looking around. I am forcing myself to peek out from my hazy pools of imaginative avoidance, past the fairies and unicorns and the happy talking trees to the playing field below; the hard turf and rugged terrain of reality.
Yikes! But I am seeing the challenge and rising to it.
I gallop along; riding far beyond my enchanted kingdom into the dreaded realm that ‘s called “out of my comfort zone”. I’ve been visiting this place quite regularly and every time I do I grow stronger and stronger. It’s amazing what a little white-knuckled courage will do. I have found through trial and mostly error that life forces one to foray beyond this zone. I would rather choose the circumstance instead of the wilds of fate deciding for me. This is the downfall of the procrastinator–something I know too well.
On my dresser sits a 3×5 card. On it I have written a quote by Marcus Aurelius, a Roman emperor and philosopher who opted to write his book “Meditations” entirely in Greek and for his eyes only. It’s funny how at times the words you need to hear most come at exactly the right time you need to hear them., even when they were written two thousand years ago. Knowledge is timeless. But we mortals are not.
“Remember how long you have been putting this off, how many times you have been given a period of grace by the gods and not used it. It is high time now for you to understand the universe of whom you constitute an emanation and that there is a limit circumscribed to your time–if you do not use it to clear away your clouds, it will be gone, and you will be gone and the opportunity will not return.”~Marcus Aurelius
These words and others have changed me bit by bit. My current course has altered and is flowing to what are hopefully greener pastures. This growing up stuff hurts but it’s worth it. Don’t get me wrong; the fanciful Nancy. The whimsical silly person who has fun wherever she goes lives on. The bubbly person that I have allowed to gradually blossom currently still runs the show. I am still cultivating “magic” and throwing it up in the air like all that pixie dust. I, in fact, endeavor to increase the dosage. The world needs it and frankly so do I.
I have taken it as my mission to appreciate not only every moment but every interaction with every soul I meet. This sounds daunting and will require going out of my comfort zone more and more but as I do this comfort area will get larger and larger until it encircles the world…well, in theory anyway. I will try. I will fall down and I will get back up, that’s all any of us can do anyway.
We have a new edition to the family. Spotsy came to us by a quirk of fate, by design or whatever. He needed a home and we needed an extra cat so it all works out. My daughter has taken it upon herself to see to his upbringing and Mario and I still have time for our long and reflective discussions.
I’ve started a new blog! Ta-da! It’s all SBI but newer and edgier and more compact. It’s silly trippy fun. No long-winded dour reality here. It’s all for fun and it can be found here.
Go check it out and sign up for a dose of the lighter side of SBI fresh in your inbox.
I am looking forward to catching up with you so don’t be suprised to see me pop up over at your place. I have missed my blogging friends and I am glad to be back.
This may come as a surprise to some of you by what I write here but in real life I am a quiet and reserved person. For much of my life I have been accused of being shy. I do prefer to stay in the background, carefully observing my surroundings. I am not much of a talker, definitely not a speaker of any sort. I am however a writer and at times writers need to be loudmouths to ever be heard. Networking and making connections is essential. This has been bothering me. I would prefer to stay in the background writing away, visiting with my blog and Facebook friends, never venturing outside my comfort zone, but venture I must and so here it is.
I have been invited to write as a guest on another blog called Share Your Articles. It is managed by a new friend of mine. We seem to see eye to eye on such things as self promotion and I have taken him up on his offer. I will be contributing a new and unique article from time to time depending on how much time I have. My priority remains with you; in this blog, My Life in Color. I will continue to pour my heart out here…haha lucky you!
I have checked it out and there are many other competent writers there and I recommend them highly. You can find a link to the site here. I hope to see you there. Please come out and support your friendly neighborhood blogger; namely me. I would truly appreciate it.
My first article is called New Eyes. It is a hopeful one and I am on my best behavior, at least I will be for now… (wink-wink)
While I am on the subject of self-promotion; I would like to tell you about my 100% All Organic Strawberryindigo page on Facebook. I know many of you are not on Facebook but give it a try. We could chat there. I write some odds and ends, little bits, quotes and I post interesting articles and links to subjects pertaining to the environment, gardening, social issues and fun stuff too. I am still me being myself over there and my heart is definitely on my sleeve. It is a bit more relaxed and I certainly let my hair down. Please stop by and pay me a visit if you are so inclined. Feel free to post something of your own. I am pretty much on my own over there, it is sort of cavernous and a tad lonely. I would love to hear what you think of it.
Before I sign off take a gander at my new revved up About the Author page. It was about time. It had remained unchanged since the beginning and needed updating. As you might have noticed I have also updated my Gravatar. It is me, older, more wrinkled but happier.
Well enough about me…how are you? How is everything going? Please let me know. I also wanted to add that I have a new email and if you want to contact me privately for whatever reason; drop me a line at Strawberryindigo@gmail.com.
Thanks for listening,
“As things stand now, I am going to be a writer. I’m not sure that I’m going to be a good one or even a self-supporting one, but until the dark thumb of fate presses me to the dust and says ‘you are nothing’, I will be a writer.” ― Hunter S. Thompson
UPDATE: I will no longer be writing for that other site. The person who runs the site became very intrusive in my online life (sort of a creepy internet stalker) and so I thought it best to erase my presence there. I am a trusting sort I suppose, but I will not allow this experience to change that.
What follows is NEW EYES
It was one of those bright mornings that come after a night of hard rain. Drops of moisture decorate the scarlet-colored Maple leaves on the tree outside my window, shining like diamonds in the first few rays of the new day’s sun. I have always loved mornings such as these. The streets have been washed clean by the rain; everything is so fresh and new. The chickadees outside my window sing an expectant song tinged with sweet exuberance.
It is just another morning just like many others. The newspaper arrives just as it always does with a dull thud at the front door. My morning coffee is the same brand I’ve been drinking for months but somehow it tastes better on this day.
“Today will be a most wondrous day” I tell myself out loud. I am surprised at hearing my voice speaking to myself this way. My voice sounds hopeful, younger somehow, sweeter.
I gaze into the mirror; the very same reflection returns my gaze. The same rounded face with the same sleepy half-lidded stare stares right back, but somehow my too- brown brown eyes look unusually brighter, almost optimistic. I smile and am rewarded with another smile that appears almost beaming.
It is as if I am seeing the world with new eyes. New eyes flecked with glimmering green; new eyes that see promise in a seemingly just typical day.
Perhaps this day is not so typical in a string of so many so typical days. Perhaps something special will happen today. Perhaps it is more than just the sunshine or the birds that are making me feel this way. Perhaps it is my new eyes.
Could it be these new eyes are seeing the endless possibilities that lie open before me? Could it be it is these new eyes that see that the long road of life’s difficulties could be opportunities in disguise?…or maybe it’s the way I’ve been looking at things without ever truly seeing, perhaps my new-found hope came from my inside and these new eyes are just the old ones peering at life from a different angle; from a new direction. Perhaps this wondrous day that lies before me is just like the string of others that came before it?
Perhaps it isn’t new eyes I have, just a new way of seeing.
Peace and Love to You,
***Links and Stuff***
New Eyes (The first post by me on Share Your Articles)
A blue-eyed stranger came to us this past July, we named him Jacky and he’s quite the cat. I’ve written of him before, this blue-eyed handsome cat and how he came to live with us. Much has happened since I last wrote of him. Jacky is turning out to be such an amazing cat, so amazing in fact I think he merits an update…
When last I wrote of him, Jacky was living in two houses, torn between myself and a foul-mouthed harpy down the street I’ve been calling Sally. Jacky would spend days with me in the garden, playing and napping and eating some good cat food. At night he would return to Sally. We had this unspoken shady agreement between us. I don’t think she liked it anymore than I did, but there it was.
Untill one night about two or three weeks ago. Jacky spent the night in the studio, curled up into a cute white furry ball on my writing chair. I left him there, and when I returned in the morning, he was still there asleep.
I was pleased but I didn’t think much of it. Jacky is a bit of a rogue and a wanderer. He’s there one moment , gone the next. Except this time he didn’t go, he stayed with me all day, following me around as I watered the flowers. That night, again he stayed and he has stayed every night since.
I know this sounds crazy but I think he is fascinated with water, running water. He prefers to drink out of our leaky bath tap. You can hear him jump in the bathtub: Plop. Sometimes he knocks over the shampoo. Sometimes he surprises me in the middle of the night. Every time he gets his sweet little face all wet and every time he is so cute! I know we should fix the drip, but how can we now?
I really knew this cat loved water when I was watering my lawn the other morning with a sprinkler and he was gingerly drinking from the arc of the spray. What a cat!
Jacky, our nutty feline also loves to go for walks with his favorite humans. Whenever M.M. takes the old pug out, Jacky tags along, trailing behind, intrigued with the whole process. He never wants to be left out on all the fun. He waits on the front porch, sunning himself and the moment any one of us steps out, he’s there. He walks ahead of us and then proceeds to roll all over the ground wiggling all over the place. He is very irresistible when he does this and we have to stop and pet him.
We go out on special walks, just he and I. We don’t go far, just around the block but it gives us just enough time to get into some pretty deep conversations. I would ask him his opinion about this and that; The economy, global warming, whether I’m too old to color my hair purple or we should take advantage of these historic low rates and refinance the house. He just meows at me but I get his message. He’s a pretty smart cat.
Really, he is smart, he sits and watches me make dinner every night now. He just sits on top of a high stool and stares intently. It’s as if he is trying to memorize everything I am doing so he can do it later. Maybe one morning he will surprise us with breakfast. He certainly is full of surprises.
Jacky has gained some weight and is getting a belly, but he still is in top shape. I have to give it to Mr. Friskies for that. I am not endorsing anything, the Friskies company is not paying me a dime, but I must say without a doubt, Since I’ve been feeding him the “seafood sensations” Jacky’s coat is so soft and luxurious and so white. He is also the most muscular cat I’ve ever encountered. I guess it’s all the exercise he gets, walking and skillfully hunting moths by moonlight.
I think moths are attracted to him because he literally glows in the dark. He sits under the light and the moths come to him. What a trippy cat. Jacky has definitely made life around here more interesting.