A Message from the Universe

Change will not come if we wait for some other person or some other time. We are the ones we've been waiting for. We are the change that we seek.

~ Barack Obama

I won't say I was struggling with a decision when I saw it, but I was thinking long and hard about something in my life.  I'm pretty slow to make big decisions if there is no urgency involved.  I like to know that I gave these decisions proper and thorough consideration...especially when the decision may impact others.  I get embarrassed sometimes because I feel as though I have this inflated sense of self...like MY decision has a lot more weight than it truly does.  I suppose some of that is just the burdensome responsibility that comes with being a single parent. I am not so arrogant to believe that my decision will change the world...but the big ones often change my world...so that's enough reason for me to give thoughtful consideration to things.

Laugh if you will but when I am really labouring over a problem, I pray for guidance and then I watch for signs.  I listen intently to what others are saying...or not saying.  I pay attention to what song plays on the radio when I'm thinking about my issue.  I pay closer attention to random messages in my everyday -- street signs, newspaper ads, advertisements in windows, greeting cards, news stories, banter on the radio.  It's like an awakening I think, when you open yourself up to world around you after you throw out a simple S.O.S. to the cosmos.  So when I saw it, I knew my decision was made. 

As I left the office, I saw in the sky a Phoenix.  It could not be missed.  The timing was perfect.  I get that it's a cloud, but in that moment, at a time in my life I needed to "see" something, THAT cloud became a message that promised rebirth.  It was relevant and it was timely and it was obvious.   Some will poo, poo this as a coincidence, but it doesn't matter to me because I had asked for guidance and I saw it in the sky.  If you don't ask, you don't get -- so...in the end...what's the harm in asking? 

Besides, in those moments when I believe the universe is communicating to me, I experience a sense of belonging which compares to no other.  It is transformative and powerful and it is the fundamental reason behind the feeling I have that I am blessed.  And to the cynics I would suggest, "Why wouldn't the universe communicate with me?  I am open, I am listening and I am worthy." 

So, thank you universe.  I accept my message.  In return, I send out love.

I Walked Across a Smile

"A smile is happiness you'll find right under your nose.

~ Tom Wilson

I try to walk every day.  In the heat of the summer, that sometimes means an early morning walk before work.  Most days, I like to get a break during my workday and get out for a walk to clear my head.  Occasionally I walk after work to exercise away the day's stress.  I've walked hundreds of miles on the same streets of Perth over many, many days, but today was different.

Today on my walk, I happened across a nice surprise.  As I was headed back down main street to return to the office, I noticed an arrow drawn on the sidewalk in chalk.  I was headed in the direction of the arrow and thought little of it.  I was half expecting a game of hopscotch on my travels but discovered instead a simple message...."Smile." 

I did.

I continued past "Smile" and found myself a the end of the block and a four-directional arrow.  It was clear to me that some kids had been playing a game of some kind -- a treasure hunt maybe.  I crossed the street and continued along my way.

Within half a block, I happened across another message...."One Happy Thought."

So I conjured one...

...and I smiled again.

It was completely unexpected and absolutely delightful.  It brightened what was already a pretty awesome day. 

It would be nice to think that the universe was speaking to me but I get the randomness of it.  Some kid wrote it...I just happened across it.  BUT...it could have rained and washed away; I could have taken another route; it could have been a game of hopscotch.  None of that happened, so I'm taking it as a hug from the collective consciousness of the universe.  It was a message and I received it.

Thank you universe.

Right back atcha!!

So here's my little message to the kid who wrote the message.  "Thank you for not drawing a penis or the chalk outline of a dead person or another hopscotch pattern that I never know whether to jump across or walk around.  Thank you for choosing a five letter word instead of a less-complimentary four letter word.  Whether you had intended it or not, you had an impact.  The choice you made brought joy to another person -- ME -- so....kudos to you Random Nameless Kid.  You rock!"

Sometimes I Feel Like a Watcher in a Dream

I sometimes feel like a watcher in a dream.
Sequences unfurl before me, around me
Manifested by a tired mind
Puzzling through the leftovers of today.

I sometimes feel like a watcher in a dream.
Gazing through windows in a room without doors
The intentional design of a sleepy architect
Longing for someone to serve witness to their existence.

I sometimes feel like a watcher in a dream.
Searching the horizon for footholds of reason
Constructs of truth in a make believe world
Where paths are made of both stone and quicksand.

I sometimes feel like a watcher in a dream.
Borrowed scribe to chronicle naked testimony
Of reasonable and unreasonable judgements
With a pen that drips empathy on stacks of blank paper.

I sometimes feel like a watcher in a dream.
Trapping understanding in locking boxes
Built by Freud and churches and worried mothers
With porcelain keyholes and glass tumblers and crystal keys.

I sometimes feel like a watcher in a dream.
Muted by a divine yet nebulous purpose
Galvanized by faith and confidence and duty
Where I may silence the aching isolation of my disconnect.

Playing Hostess - Setting the Stage

One might well say that mankind is divisible into two great classes: hosts and guests.

~ Max Beerbohm

I'm a guest.  I am a kick-ass visitor.  I am NOT a hostess.

Having confessed this, you should know that I'm hosting a very dear friend and her family on the upcoming long weekend.  While I want everything to be perfect, it won't be -- because that's not how things go.  It is not her expectations I fear, but rather my gnawing tendencies towards perfectionism.  Strangely, once she's here, I will stop measuring "things" like how clean the cottage is, or how good the food is, or if there's anything "missing."  I will go crazy stressing over food, cleaning, lawn care and activities until she arrives and then those shallow things will fall to the wayside as we simply enjoy our time together.

Until then....I make lists.  Lists for food, lists for ingredients, things to do, things to buy, things to have, things to clean, things to fix, lists, lists, lists.  I make lists.  I even make a list of lists I will need.  Lists, lists, lists.  

I initially asked for help with the menu from my dear friend "The Foodie" whose strength (as you can imagine by the nickname) is food and menu ideas.  He is a very good cook and food is important to him -- he is my life's version of Wolfgang Puck - food is his hobby.  It drives me nuts.  I subscribe to the "live to eat" notion that food is necessary fuel for our bodies.  I remember to eat when my stomach growls but more often than not, I skip meals like a hopscotch champion.  On weekends, I generally eat a pot of coffee in the morning and then make something late afternoon when I have a chance.  It's a terrible, unhealthy habit but it's an incredible time-saver and I don't usually have a sink full of dishes waiting for me.  The Foodie plans his activities around meals most days.  I have a real problem with it. 

The Foodie and I had a falling out, however, so I took it upon myself to Google some meal ideas.  I have a rough idea of dinners, lunches and breakfast.  We'll have at least 1 meal out -- maybe 2 -- and the rest will be taken care of.  First night is Mexican-ish-y fare ... mostly because I want to mix up some Margaritas...bad...I know.  Saturday will be seafood lakeside with cedar grilled salmon and skewered shrimp with vegetables and rice.  Sunday is either steak or chicken...maybe both.  I think I have this food thing down.

I spent the last week doing deck repairs to avoid an injury (or worse, a lawsuit) involving my company.  My friend has a young daughter so I'm cleaning up the kayaks and have found a small(ish) life jacket for her.  The pool at my parents (across the road) is on stand-by.

I weeded the garden, and The Foodie dropped by today to apply a fresh stain to the bench on the deck.  He also kindly dropped off two lounge chairs in anticipation for my "girl time" lakeside catching up.  Thoughtful!!  Hmmmm, maybe sucking up....not sure...possibly both.

I spent the weekend burning crap from my deck repairs and cutting the lawn and stacking some wood by the bonfire pit.  The lawn looks pretty good except for all the crud washing up with the high water and the flooded part of the lawn.  It's as good as it's going to get.

I cleaned the bathroom and washed the floors and took a stab at the cobwebs -- though cobwebs grow overnight here at the lakeside.  I know, I know, I will freshen up the bathroom before she arrives -- maybe twice.

Things won't be perfect, but the weekend will be.  She has already warned me..."We are not coming to see your house...we are coming to see YOU."  She is an absolute joy to be around so I know that everything will be just fine and our time together will be fun and full of laughter.

I found this quote from Eleanor Roosevelt, however, and I thought, "I can live with that."

"The only advantage of not being too good a housekeeper is that your guests are so pleased to feel how very much better they are."

~ Eleanor Roosevelt

The Miracle of the Dragonfly

                 The Dragon-fly                   ~ A poem by Alfred Lord Tennyson

 

Today I saw the dragon-fly

Come from the wells where he did lie.

An inner impulse rent the veil

Of his old husk: from head to tail

Came out clear plates of sapphire mail.

He dried his wings: like gauze they grew;

Thro’ crofts and pastures wet with dew

A living flash of light he flew.