4:03 am. And Inspired.

sunrise over black sea


Good Wednesday morning. Inspiring posts were gushing over the dam this week.  Here we go on my ride of inspiring posts of the week:

  1. Sun Dog kicks us off with a photograph of a sunrise over the Black Sea.
  2. LaDona @ LaDona’s Music Studio with her post titled This One Hurts.  Short.  Picture is worth 1000 words. Yes.  I was moved.
  3. Ivon @ Teacher as Transformer with his post I Walked a Mile with Pleasure: “…Leave nothing behind and look back only at the good that came of it. Know you served well those you met on the path. Hold your head high…” Hit this link.
  4. Serenity Spell with her post titled A Heavenly Hardwood Swamp: “Earth’s crammed with heaven, And every common bush afire with God: But only he who sees takes off his shoes. — Elizabeth Barrett Browning”  Beautiful post.  A daily stop for me.  Read more at this link.
  5. Misifusa @ Misifusa’s Blog with her post titled Rest in the Clouds.  My Rachel shared this with me last night and encouraged me to watch.  You are going to say, you don’t have time to watch.  Yes you do.  Yes you do. Hit this link. [Read more...]

And suddenly you know: that was enough

black and white, photography,portrait, eyes closed

Remembering

And you wait. You wait for the one thing
that will change your life,
make it more than it is -
something wonderful, exceptional,
stones awakening, depths opening to you.

In the dusky bookstalls
old books glimmer gold and brown.
You think of lands you journeyed through,
of paintings and a dress once worn
by a woman you never found again.

And suddenly you know: that was enough.
You rise and there appears before you
in all its longings and hesitations
the shape of what you lived.

- Rainer Maria Rilke


Wiki Bio for Rainer Maria Rilke (1875-1926).  Credits: Image by Stephan Vanfleteren. Poem: Thank you Whiskey River.

5:27 am. And Inspired.

sun,light,sun light, flower,yellow


Good Wednesday morning. I’ve been on a siesta the last few weeks with my inspiring posts of the week.  We’re back.

Kurt Harden @ Cultural Offering with his post titled You Sir at Pump 16….   I watched this clip three times.  Susan watched it.  The kids watched it.  We all loved it.  Do yourself a favor and start your day with a smile.  Hit this link.

Rian @ Truth and Cake with her post Forget The Blueprint, Ride the Mechanical Bull: “…Often, we’re so hellbent on getting it right that we miss the point entirely. The right career, the right school, the right spouse, the right restaurant, the movie with the good reviews, wearing the right outfit and snagging that just right opportunity and hopefully doing something really meaningful and perfect with our lives: these things obsess us.  I can look back on a (very large) handful of times in my life when I was given an amazing opportunity or experiencing something really great that, in retrospect, I stressed way too much over. Will I blow this? Will it work out? Where’s the next opportunity going to come from? What if people think I’m crazy?…Read more of this great post from a Freshly Pressed Blogger @ this link.

Seventhvoice with her post A Childless Mother, Is still A Mother. Though her arms may be empty… her heart never will: “Mother’s Day has always been an incredibly difficult day for me. Filled as it is with  mixed emotions but not for the reasons you might think. It’s not a difficult day for me because I have a son with Autism or a daughter on the spectrum. In many ways their presence here helps to counteract the whirlpool of emotions that this day normally stirs up in me. Mother’s day is hard for me because I am, or at least I would have been, had everything gone to plan, the mother of seven children. You see, four of my lovely ones never made it kicking and screaming into the light of this world…”  Read more of this moving post @ this link.

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Family: A Postcard from 1952

Loved this…back in a “simpler” time.

“Postcard From 1952″ – Explosions in The Sky from peter simonite on Vimeo.

60 about 60

Ian Martin at 60

Ian Martin is a British author, writer for Oscar-nominated film In the Loop, major contributor to The Thick of It and has written for radio and newspapers.  He shares his thoughts about turning 60.  A few excerpts:

1. People who “hate getting old” are idiots. Every year is a privilege. Let me tell you, callow miserabilists: getting to 60 feels like a triumph. I have no idea how I made it this far, but I am very grateful…

4. For instance. It was 1968. Early summer evening, a Saturday. My mate and I were hitching home in the Essex countryside. We got a lift from a happy couple in a boaty car that smelled of leather and engine oil. We were 15, they were proper old, 20-ish. Relaxed and so very much in love. They treated us as equals, laughed at our jokes, we smoked their cigarettes. Walk Away Renee by the Four Tops came on the radio. We all sang along to the chorus. I felt a blissful certainty that life as an adult might genuinely be a laugh. The entire encounter lasted no more than 10 minutes. I have thought about that couple every day since. Every day, for 45 years. Imagine that. A Belisha Beacon of kindness pulsing through the murk of a whole life.

10. …You have kids, you know you will never experience that feeling of unconditional love for anyone else, ever, and then it happens all over again. A heart-stoppingly beautiful miracle.

Read More @ The Guardian – 60 Thoughts About Turning Sixty

What did Dad pack you for lunch?

David Laferriere, a graphic designer and illustrator from Massachusetts, has been drawing on his kids’ sandwich bags with a Sharpie marker for more than five years.  1111 bags and counting.  “I’ve been doing it for my kids since they were little…They love it, and nothing makes me happier than hearing their reaction at the end of the day…I used to work nights at a newspaper, and I’d be up early in the morning making my kids sandwiches,” LaFerriere, a graphic designer at Wheaton College in Massachusetts, told Mashable. “I started drawing on the baggies, sort of as a way to channel my creative juices in the morning, and it just ended up sticking.”  His kids, Evan, 16, and Kenny, 14, were both in elementary school when it started. Now that they’re older, LaFerriere said, they and their friends still look forward to the drawings every day.  I’d like to keep doing this for as long as possible. Of course, things will change once they go to college — but I can still send illustrated care packages,” he said.  See Flickr blog for the video.  See Laferriere’s Flickr photostream for all of his illustrations.  Cool!

sandwich bag art, cookie, monster,sandwich bag art, illustration


Sources: blog.ficker.net and Mashable.com,

By the Creek Bank

black and white, photography

There is some secret that water holds that we need to know.  I edge up close to the creek and peer into it for a revelation of some kind, an explanation of the world.  Some things I think I know: that the sun rises, that the darkness heals, that animals are intelligent, that rocks are aware, that the earth has a sense of humor.  The spring wind is blowing hard.  The aspens along the bank make sounds of wood rubbing together, dry boards of an old house in a storm.  Fair-weather clouds break loose on the bottom of the western horizon and drift one by one across the blue sky.  Below me in the creek there is a clear pool full of minnows. I get down on my belly and carefully put my hand in the water among the small fishes. The minnows jerk past my numb fingers, swift as black seconds ticking.  I cannot catch even one.

~ Tom Hennen


Tom Hennen was born in Morris, Minnesota and grew up in a farming family.  His poetry was informed by a lifelong and intimate relationship with the prairie. He lives in Minnesota.


5:02 am. And Inspired.

Florida, butterflies, orange


Good Wednesday morning. Here are my selections of the inspiring posts of the week:

Jon-Mark Davey, South Florida Wildlife Photography kicks us off with his photograph of a orange butterfly shot at Rock Springs Park, Apopka, Florida.  Check out one amazing shot after another at Jon-Mark’s site at this link.

Annabel Ruffell @ Journey For Earth with her post titled I am Enough: “But…Often in my life I have felt that I am not enough.  I am not being a good enough mother, a good enough friend, a good enough person…I am not doing enough, being enough, am just not enough…”  Beautiful post.  Read more at this link.

Bonnie @ Pagekeeper with a letter to her her son titled Not All At Once: You, growing up, is a long game and even though you and I both want it to all be ok for you right now, let’s both try to remember that you need to take your own time with things.  I want you to know that everything I do is for you – so that things are better for you.  So that your easy laugh and smiling eyes are always what people see first when they meet you...”  Moved.  Inspired by this post.  Read more at this link.

Coach Bill Moore with his share in a To Run – A Prayer for Boston: “I will take you…on in the street…Every breath of mine…I will consume your hate…I will run straight into you…as if you were a finish line of joy…picking up the fallen…along the way…you will never stop me.”  Wonderful.  Read full poem by Scott Poole at this link.

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4:14 am. And Inspired.

Tulips


Good Wednesday morning. Here are my selections of the inspiring posts of the week:

Anneli @ Words From Anneli kicks us off with her post La Conner Tulip Festival.  That’s her shot above.   Check out more great shots at this link.

Luggage Lady with her post titled We Can Never Go Back: “Every summer growing up, my family journeyed from Chicago suburbia to my grandparent’s farm in southern Illinois. They called us “city kids,” and we couldn’t wait to indulge in the expansive freedoms of country life…Woven into the daily demands were simple pleasures, like piling onto the front porch swing at the end of the long day. Grandparents first, followed by a layer of grandchildren, and topped off with the latest litter of purring kittens. The swing’s chains creaked in time with chirping male crickets claiming their conquests. An occasional freight train rumbled down nearby tracks as we kids marveled at stars not visible back home. Sometimes, a puff of cool air bored through the wall of humidity, teasing us with anticipation of a brewing storm…

Kurt @ Cultural Offering. with his post titled Friendly Advice where he shares excerpts from a Peggy Noonan interview with the “founder” of Singapore:  U.S. is still ‘a frontier society.’ ‘The American culture . . . is that we start from scratch and beat you.’ They would settle an empty area, call it a town, and say, ‘You be the sheriff, I am the judge, you are the policeman, and you are the banker, let us start.”  And then Kurt shares a wonderful story about Margaret Thatcher leading from the front among a group of men.  This post is titled: Margaret Thatcher R.I.P.

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Driving. With Mellencamp.

Shut down PC.
Stuff my briefcase with weekend reading. I Smile.
Another form of Exercise in futility.
I won’t get to it.
Slump into car. Spent.
4-day week. Felt like six.
Pre Good Friday weekend traffic backed up on 95.
Stealing glances at blackberry.
Flicking through iTunes list.
Land on Mellencamp. John Mellencamp.

Hurts So Good.

When I was a young boy
Said put away those young boy ways
Now that I’m gettin’ older
So much older
I love all those young boy days

Memories flood. Awed.
How? How a mere few bars can take you back.
To a moment. In 1982. A technicolor and edited version. [Read more...]

I couldn’t tell you…

grandpa, photograph

My Grandfather. Deda. Walter Cecil Kanigan.

He was born on March 22nd. Yesterday.  In 1909. 103 years ago.

I couldn’t tell you with certainty where he was born. Believe it was in the Ukraine. In a hospital? Home delivery?

I couldn’t tell you what he did as a child. Who were his friends? Did he have toys? A bike? A cat?

I couldn’t tell you of his journey to Canada. Where did he land? Did he ride the rails to get cross country? Was it Spring time?

I couldn’t tell you if he attended high school. Did he learn “his figures?”  Did he know how to write?

I couldn’t tell you how he met Grandma. Baba. Did he ask her Father for permission to marry? Was she his first choice?

I couldn’t tell you his dreams. He mentioned that he wished he could fly. Just once. I couldn’t tell you if he ever flew in a commercial airliner.

I can’t tell you much about Deda.

But, I have moments.

He mixed different cereals for breakfast.

He slurped vegetable soup off his spoon.

[Read more...]

You’ve Still Got A Friend

Thursday.  He was running late for lunch.  My college roommate.  Just like him to be late.  My mind whirring back to college…

Short (very) and stocky build.  Permanently attired in University of Minnesota Gopher sweatpants and an oversized sweat shirt with hoody. Everything hung large.  Everything rumpled.  “Unkempt, having an untidy or disheveled appearance.”  Webster’s should have added his name.  He was the magnetic center – the beating heart – of every college party.  Quarter-bounce champ into Pabst Blue Ribbon at the Alibi.  Ringleader for late night games of Hearts. Out late. (Very)  Up late. (Very)  Blessed with a quick wit and quicker on the ice.  Selected easiest path to graduation: Art. Sculpture. Sociology. Physical Education. And even this was a struggle. Yet, he was never late for hockey practice.  Vote never taken, but most likely to end up next to the curb.

He walked in. Hair salt and peppered grey. Blazer. Blue open collar shirt. Tropical skin tone. (He’s got it together.)

[Read more...]

Clarke’s Pool

Clarkes Pool

The photographs of Clarke’s Pool are described as a walk down memory lane for “three generations of Castlegar kids who learned how to swim.”  Well he’s partially right.  It was also the training ground for the suburban kids like my brother Rich and me who hailed from Ootischenia (pop. 856).

Rich’s recollection of the pool was that it was “one of the scariest places he’d ever seen.”  Ominous.  Large.  Deep.  Dark.  Intimidating.  With a “giant” slide coming down high above from the rooftop.  My memories were frighteningly similar.  Yet, the picture today certainly doesn’t align with the Stephen King-like depiction of the darkness banging around our heads.  The pool was smaller.  And shallower.  And brighter.  With a kiddy slide jutting off the side of the garage.

The prize? [Read more...]

Skate! Skate! Skate!

snoopy, skating,love,memories,peanuts,Charlie brown,funny,laugh,comic strip


I hope that non-Canadians get this too…


Source: 3eanuts

Rain. Yes.

rain

Woke up this morning with
a terrific urge to lie in bed all day
and read. Fought against it for a minute.

Then looked out the window at the rain.
And gave over. Put myself entirely
in the keep of this rainy morning.

Would I live my life over again?
Make the same unforgiveable mistakes?
Yes, given half a chance. Yes.

~ Raymond Carver, “Rain


Sources: Poem - larmoyante.  Photo: weheartit.com

Related Posts:

Like, A Horse with No Name.

lost, confused, don't understand, poetry, poem

In 7th grade, a substitute teacher introduced us to poetry.  Well, sort of.  He circulated a copy of the lyrics for America’s hit song: A Horse With No Name.  The class lit up like fireflies offering up their interpretations.  DK, shoulders slumped, head down, was pretending to be reading the lyrics – - sat nervously hoping he wouldn’t be called on.  The 30 minutes of inadequacy never vacated short term memory.  (Samuel Beckett: I’m like that. Either I forget right away or I never forget.“)  I came across the poem below by George MacDonald and I found it moving me…Spring fever perhaps….and as my eyes slowly worked down one line and then the next, I found my spirits lifting…Hey! I understand this.  I get it. I like it.  No, I love it.  And, then. Reality.  I reached the last line and was stoned.

Through all the fog, through all earth’s wintery sighs,
I scent Thy spring, I feel the eternal air,
Warm, soft, and dewy, filled with flowery eyes,
And gentle, murmuring motions everywhere—
Of life in heart, and tree, and brook, and moss;
Thy breath wakes beauty, love, and bliss, and prayer,
And strength to hang with nails upon thy cross.

- George MacDonald, Diary of an Old Soul

So Sensei.  My wise readers.  Help me out.  Explain what the last line means.  So, I can get to sleep. Or, better yet, tell me you have no idea either. And I’ll sleep like a baby. :)


Source of Beckett quote and MacDonald Poem:  journalofanobody

My whole childhood was a big lie…

warner brothers, funny, cartoon, children, childhood, memories, wile e. coyote, the roadrunner, the Coyote


10000birds.com: “Every child who has ever seen a cartoon featuring Wile E Coyote and Road Runner has to have wondered if poor Wile E Coyote ever had a fair shot at catching the Road Runner.  According to Mark Lockwood’s Basic Texas Birds: A Field Guide, with or without Wile E. Coyote chasing it, a Greater Roadrunner can reach speeds of 20 MPH (32 KPH) while a Coyote can reach speeds of up to 43 MPH (69 KPH).”


Image Source: themetapicture.com

I am here on purpose…

Boy Running in Water on Beach Gif

Six days back at work…after a two week vacation.

Tension. Decompression. Recharge.  Ramp-up.  Escalation. Full engagement. Tension.

Full loop restored.

And, cycle time is compressing year over year.

Meetings. Emails. 2013 Planning.  Events. Phone calls. Problems. Opportunities.  Running. Faster.

In a momentary gap in my schedule…a mental image of this photo flickers by…a photo tripped into during the recharging phase of vacation.  Image darts in and out for days. Pulling me back to a time when life was simpler. When picking sweet, juicy Bing cherries and filling the bucket was the task of the day.

I am here on purpose... [Read more...]

Cinderella

Fairy tale, whimsical, illustration, blue, children's stories Cinderella 2 [Read more...]

You’re my best friend…

1 minute clip. I’m confident that this clip, paired with Queen’s “You’re My Best Friend“, will put you in the right frame of mind to kick off your day.


[Read more...]

Grounded.

illustration, sketch, black and white, simple figure, woman figure

It’s Monday, October 29th.  The day that Hurricane Sandy hit the Tri-State Region.

I’m scrolling down the new WordPress posts for bloggers I follow.  My fingers sliding clumsily on the touch pad. Scrolling. Scrolling. (Cursing because I haven’t figured out this d*mn touch pad. I miss the eraser thing in the middle of keyboard.  Getting old.  Hating change.  Big clumsy fingers. I slide fingers in wrong direction and I’m taken to another website.  I lose my place.  Need to start back at the top.  Grrrrrrr. Can this be so difficult pal? )

My eyes flitting from post to post.  Scanning images and topics of interest.

My eyes land on the image on the left.  I freeze.  (What is it about this image?  I can feel its soothing effects.  The ‘Work’ clutch now slipping from OVERDRIVE to neutral.)

A few lines.  Black lines.  White background.  A simple image. A simple, beautiful human image.  (Let’s not get too carried away.  It’s certainly not that simple.  And nothing I could ever draw.)

I found it to be startling.

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Chicago, Chicago. My kind of town.

Downtown Chicago - Michigan Avenue

We lived in Chicago for five years.  I had the pleasure of returning this week.  Spectacular weather brought back sweet memories of this wonderful city…

  • City of Big Shoulders. Chi-Town. Sears Tower. John Hancock.  City that works.
  • Deep Dish Pizza. Chicago Style Hot Dogs. Cheezborger-Cheezborger-Cheezborger. No Pepsi…Coke. (SNL-Billy Goat Tavern)
  • The Loop. ‘L’ Train. Eden’s Expressway.
  • The Bears. The Bulls. The Hawks. Ditka. Jordan. Chelios.
  • Michigan Avenue. State Street. Water Tower Plaza. Marshall Fields.
  • Chicago Art Institute. Field Museum of Natural History (Giant Dinosaurs). Shed Aquarium.
  • Windy City. Lake Michigan. Chicago River bleeding green on St. Patty’s Day.
  • Gold Coast. Northshore. Wilmette. Northwestern.
  • Evanston Hospital. Eric’s birthplace.

Chicago at Night


Image Sources: (1) the-hipster-universe via orionfalls (2) marcdesa via pacificdebris

Cousin Billy


Saturdays during my childhood were spent playing with our cousins.  Or fishing.

Billy was the oldest by a year. Like his Dad, he was built to run and had a spiritual connection with nature. With ease, Billy filled his match box with grasshoppers (for fish bait) while we stumbled around with the creatures making a mockery of us.

We’d grab our fishing poles and race our bikes to the Kootenay River.  Billy would bound ahead from rock to rock. With grace.  Like an Aboriginal Tracker.  Quiet. Surefooted. No energy wasted.

The rest of us were in pursuit.  Jimmy’s arms and legs flying. Baby fat rhythmically swinging up and down with each stride.  Sweating profusely. Screaming at us to “wait up.” 

[Read more...]

I’ll tell you another secret, this one for your own good…

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I’ll tell you another secret, this one for your own good.  You may think the past has something to tell you.  You may think that you should listen, should strain to make out its whispers, should bend over backward, stoop down low to hear its voice breathed up from the ground, from the dead places.  You may think there’s something in it for you, something to understand or make sense of.

But I know the truth: I know from the nights of Coldness.  I know the past will drag you backward and down, have you snatching at whispers of wind and the gibberish of trees rubbing together, trying to decipher some code, trying to piece together what was broken.  It’s hopeless.  The past is nothing but a weight.  It will build inside of you like a stone.

Take it from me: If you hear the past speaking to you, feel it tugging at your back and running its fingers up your spine, the best thing to do – the only thing – is run.

~ Becca @ Lost in Time


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I learn more about life when I’m in it…

“People these days don’t know how to just sit in a room or any environment and merely absorb it and take it in. Instead, they have mind-numbing games on their phone to devote their attention to, facebook updates to know about, text messages and tweets to send, beautiful robotically edited pictures to post in an attempt to make their life seem somewhat interesting and from this desire to let people know what they are doing. And they miss the beauty in the details and the little things; they miss living in that beauty.

Sometimes I want to ask them things like, did you not notice the textures and shape of that room, did you not hear what he was really saying, did you not see the large bird molesting the smaller birds in the tree, did you not see that adorable old couple on the bench helping one another to their feet, did you not only see but feel what was going on in that room? Or were you too busy on your phone?

When we look back on our lives are we going to be a collection of meaningless gaming hours, ambiguous updates, cheap tweets and instagram photos? Is that what’s going to really make our memories and keep us living in the moment to make those memories?

Maybe it’s just me, but I learn more about life, myself and others when I’m in it. And I just want other people to be in it and learning with me too. So like all things in life, use your phone in moderation and focus on truly making those memories.”

~ Rex X


Quote Source: Rex X.  Image Source: Crescent Moon

Related Article: NY Times: The “Busy” Trap (Thanks for sharing Lori)

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