Christmas Wish and New Year's Request

While I was contemplating what to post next, I ran across Brandy's blog. Brandy has a blog, and is having one of those life moments that we all dread - someone she loves is very sick. She is asking for one thing from the blogsphere: positive thoughts and prayers. I offer to her both and share with you the opportunity to do the same.

My name is brandy. And I have a blog.

And a plea.

I use my blog to showcase the crazy I meet everyday, share the stories of the kids I teach and document my love for tequila, dairy products and the abdominal muscles of Ryan Reynolds. Rarely do I talk about personal issues on my blog- as personal as the dude that I adore (who I actually met through my blog- single ladies, let that be a very good reason to blog, the possibility of meeting someone as wonderful as my man), but I need your help. And it involves my dude.

He’s a guy who made math comics for my class, so they would love learning about addition. He’s the kinda guy who sends my friends gift cards when they are having hard times, who remembers every story I ever told him, who was the first person I celebrated with when I got a teaching job. He’s the guy who sent flowers to me at school- dozens of my favourite pink roses just because he loves me. He’s a guy who has spent a year patiently explaining (and re-explaining) everything there is to know about football during the important games when silence is preferred. He’s made me word puzzles and comics and stayed up late playing Scrabble with me (even though I beat him almost every time). He’s listened to me cry about school and family and jobs. He is everything I never knew I needed and everything I always knew I wanted.

The holidays have hit us hard. He’s recently been told he may have something called multiple myeloma- an incurable cancer, that gives a person an average of five years of continued life. Though this news has came as a shock, he continues to be exactly who has always been- spending his time worrying about me, rather than worrying about himself. He’s the most selfless individual I know- (he stayed late on Christmas Eve to work, so his co-workers could leave early) and a post like this would never be something that he would promote or encourage but when I’m overwhelmed and feeling helpless, the blogging community has always given me tremendous support and comfort, two things I desperately need at this time.

As I write this, the future is uncertain and we aren't sure what’s happening. He’ll need to see an oncologist soon, to verify what’s going on in his body. My hope is that everyone who reads this think positive thoughts and if you are a person who prays, could you add him to your list? (You can refer to him as ‘brandy’s hot awesome dude’). If you don’t pray, please keep him in your heart. This cancer is only a possibilityand I believe that the prayers and positive thoughts of people can make sure it never becomes a reality.

I want to give a big thank you to the blog owner who scraped their original blog plans and graciously put this up. My goal is to get as many people as possible to see and read this post. If you are reading this and want to help, copy and paste my plea into your blog or send a link through twitter, so more people can keep him in their thoughts. I would be so very grateful (even more grateful than I am to my friend who first showed me the picture of Ryan Reynolds on the cover of Entertainment Weekly. If you haven’t seen it, google it. You. Are. Welcome).

I realize this all sounds dramatic, a Lifetime movie in the making- but this is life. Right now. And I’m throwing away any hint of ego and am humbly asking for you to pray or think kind thoughts. If you are able to pass this on, thank you and if you know anything regarding MM- please email me (my email is on my blog). This isn't a call for sympathy or a plea for pity. It's just one girl hoping you can think positive thoughts for the person she adores. If my current heartache provides you with anything, let it be with the reminder that life is short, love is unbending and no one knows what could happen next. Maybe it is silly, but I really do believe that positive thoughts can make a huge difference. Thank you for reading this and if you haven’t already? Please tell someone you love them today.

I did.

5 Potential Blogging Topics

Christmas has barely gone, but with its exit it has taken my daily posts on Top Holiday Memories. I do hope you have enjoyed all 25 episodes.

Now I am faced with the decision of the topic for the next few post. I have several ideas, but I would like to give a moment or two here to listen to anything you might suggest. I will tell you a few things that have been on my mind, but don’t feel limited to pick one – suggest your own…

1. Family Memories – I have a very interesting (read dysfunctional) family and the way I often remember and tell my version of the truth does make people laugh – if in disbelief.

2. Original Stories – I use to create stories to use as both child’s time and for sermon illustrations years ago when I was a pastor (if that surprises you, you haven’t been to my bio page – oh the horror!)

3. Spiritual Observations Reflections – I often find spiritual lessons in simple daily events/objects and sometimes write those down (you know “Life is like a box of chocolates – and all that.”)

4. Poetry – I write poetry – kind of. I feel certain emotions through words and often jot those down. They make sense to me, but I wouldn’t expect them to ‘stand up’ to real poetic analysis. They also tend to be more dark and brooding – like music in a minor key.

5. Yoga – I’m taking my first Yoga class starting January 21^st. I know I will learn much and have many thoughts about this experience. It might be fun to share those, but I don’t want this to become a Yoga blog… (you know, like when those runners start blogging about their running time and marathons, and gear and such – Hi Dena!!)

That’s about it. You thoughts are most welcome…

Top Holiday Memories - Episode 25

Frankly, I don’t remember if it was a gift on Christmas or one that arrived during the Christmas season, but it is a gift that captures much of what Christmas is truly about – simple giving in love.

My son crafted a Christmas coffee mug when he was a very young lad. He drew the picture himself on the side of the mug – a Christmas tree, two wrapped presents, and angel on the tree top - and then presented it to me. Every year when we bring out the Christmas decorations we replace our normal glasses and mugs with Christmas ones. His gift is always among them, and all season long I reach for that mug with great love and care.

The mug sits around reminding me that I am a most fortunate father, step-father and husband. It reminds me that we never know what act of kindness, no matter how small and ‘imperfect’ will remain permanently in someone’s life. It reminds me how quickly life can change and how important it is to enjoy each simple moment. It reminds me that taking time for a quiet cup of coffee and delicate reflection is important in the busy holidays. It causes me to hear the carols of children singing in church.

Mostly, I see that angel, perched atop the tree and hear an ancient voice speak a timeless message softly through thousands of years, “Fear not: for, behold, I bring you good tidings of great joy, which shall be to all people. For unto you is born this day in the city of David a Savior, which is Christ the Lord.”

Merry Christmas.

Top Holiday Memories - Episode 24

This one is from my brother. I've edited it slightly for brevity...

We always waited for dad to get home from work (he always worked late it seemed to me, on Christmas Eve). We always opened gifts on Christmas Eve. One person would pass out the gifts and everyone would pile their gifts up, waiting for all of them to be given out. Then we would rip them open (well I would) as fast as we could, and hold them up for everyone to see. It was over fast but always great.

This one night I went to bed waiting for Santa, sleeping in the PJs I just opened as a gift. The PJs were always too hot for us living at Myrtle Beach, but we put them on and paraded around the room, anyway. I finally did get to sleep that night. Sometime in the early morning I awoke to find the best Santa gift in the world - an electric train set with a black engine that would smoke and a light in the front. The track was already assembled and ready to run. I don't remember any other gifts that year, but I remember the train.

I still have that train.

Top Holiday Memories - Episode 23

It seems that there were a number of years when my siblings and I lived by the adage, “The one who has the most presents wins.”

Several times, in the days that led up to Christmas, we would sort the presents under the tree into piles my name. Then would come the accounting as we tallied up the gifts and announced who had the most gifts. I’m not sure why we did it. Perhaps it was just a way of passing time. Perhaps it came from some innate sibling rivalry. Maybe it was just a way of immersing ourselves in the excitement of Christmas. What I do know, as best I recollect, is that I usually won.

Hey. This is my blog and I can tell it like I want to!

Top Holiday Memories - Episode 22

Continuing on the Homemade Ornament theme, I also remember what you can make with two Dixie cups and a string.

Make a small hole in the bottom of two paper Dixie cups. Thread a piece of colored yarn through the cups to connect them (tie a knot on each end of the yarn to keep it from pulling through). Then, cover each cup with tin-foil and you now have “Silver Bells” to place on the tree – or on your ears while you run around the house singing Christmas songs – not that I have personally done anything like that – I’m just saying, you could.

Top Holiday Memories - Episode 21

If you are willing to risk personal injury, you can make these Christmas ornaments.

In both school and at home I remember making ornaments for the holiday. My mother has always been creative (the license plate on the front her car read “Crafty Lib” for years) and when it came to a inexpensive way to occupy our time at Christmas, she would help us with projects.

Take the lids from soup cans. Smear glue on the sides of the lid. Sprinkle colored glitter on lid. Let dry. Make a hole in the edge of the lid and loop a piece of twine through it. Presto! Homemade tree ornaments!

(NOTE: I know the edges of soup can lids are sharp, but I grew up in a time when parents told children to be careful and we quickly learned that NOT being careful when told usually meant we got hurt. It seems like a lesson that needs to be learned.)

Top Holiday Memories - Episode 20

When did you learn that Christmas trees look much smaller at the tree lot, than when you get them home?

For years, every Christmas I would fight the battle of the too tall Christmas tree. No matter how much I tried to reason, explain, and plead, my first wife would insist on having me buy a too-tall-for-the-house tree and we would end up with a tree that looked like it grew into the ceiling.

And every time, she would stand back and proclaim, “It’s perfect.” I guess it was. Why not? If Charlie Brown can conjure sentiment by wrapping a blanket around a twig of a tree, why can’t a tree that encompasses the entire living room and spans across the ceiling be “perfect?”

Christmas perfect is in the eye and heart of the beholder.

Top Holiday Memories - Episode 19

When it comes to the perfect Christmas gift, it seems it is the thought that counts, but the gift matters too.

I took a quick poll of my wife, youngest step-daughter and myself (we were all in the same room so it was a poll of the available) in response to the question, “What was your best Christmas present.”

Wife – the year, as a teenager, when my dad gave me a Christmas card with a note good for contact lenses. It was a time when contacts were new – still hard lenses made from glass – and at a time when, even though I wanted them madly, they were expensive and we didn't have a lot of money. I didn't expect them. It was THE BEST surprise.

Step-Daughter – Mom didn't believe in lots of TV or Video games. She’s like that. But, one year, when it was new – mom broke down and got me a Nintendo 64! My older sister was green with envy (she still hasn't gotten over it) because she was never allowed anything like that. We all played Mario Cart Racing until we knew every turn and jump by heart.

Me – I’m a huge fan of Jimmy Buffet. I've had almost every album (that’s what we had before CDs), tape and CD he ever recorded. A couple of years ago my wife gave me tickets to one of his concerts for Christmas. We never talked about it. I never asked for them or even to go. She just knew that I would enjoy and cherish the experience. She was right - Fins Up!

You – What was your best Christmas gift ever? Feel free to share in the comments…

Top Holiday Memories - Episode 18

There is much more art to the task of stringing popcorn for the Christmas tree than you might expect.

My mother, brother and I were stringing popcorn. It was my first attempt. Understand, I am the youngest – my sister 6 years my senior and my brother 14 months older than me. My sister had handed out needles and thread.

The process is simple enough. Take a needle and long thread and carefully thread the needle through a piece of popcorn. Repeat the process until you have a nice long string of popcorn and then place it on the Christmas tree for decoration. The problem for me was that every time I tried to push the needle through the popcorn, the darn popcorn would shatter, falling to the floor.

I looked over at my sister. She smiled and threaded another piece of popcorn effortlessly onto the needle. Her strand was almost complete. My brother was moving a little slower, but he was making progress. I had a thread with one piece of broken popcorn on it and a pile of pieces in my lap. This wasn't working. I tried again, and again, the pieces breaking and snapping almost every time and each time the frustration would build – until I shouted, “I can’t DO this!”

My sister snickered. My mother surveyed the situation. “That needle is way too big, Kim,” she said, and began to change the needle and thread for a much smaller one. My sister snickered.

If you asked my OLDER sister today, I’m sure she would still claim that she only gave me the large needle so it would be easier for me to thread it. I still refuse to string popcorn.

Did I mention my sister is much older than me?

Top Holiday Memories - Episode 17

The turn of a phrase, especially in the mouth of a one year old can result in beautiful misunderstandings.

Our Christmas tree, like many family trees, is decorated with ornaments from the past years. There are paper framed Polaroid pictures of our children from elementary school, handmade stars and stockings, painted hand molds, Harry Potter figurines and numerous angels, shepherds, Santas and a baby Jesus or two all hanging, resting and occasionally swinging from the tree.

My one year old granddaughter has taken to touching the ornaments and inspecting them closely. She has learned the names of many of them, but this year’s all time winner is the small Nutcracker figure which she insists on calling … ready for this… Nutcookie.

Top Holiday Memories - Episode 16

The ringing is incessant and then becomes a silent part of the constant din of noise – cars starting and driving off, and people hurrying by, captured in constant conversation about the last or next shopping destination. And there I stand, most of the times in the cold – always ringing the little brass bell.

I volunteer through my Rotary Club to ring the Salvation Army bell each year. Each year I hesitate to sign up for a couple of hours of standing in the cold. Each year I think of hundreds of other things I could be doing instead, and each year I sign-up to ring that little bell.

It happens to me every year. Somehow, as people walk by – a variety of faces, ages, economic classes – I see them acknowledge the bell and the bucket and what it represents: the presence of charity in our world. And as slowly and steadily breath brings life into my lungs, each time I speak to the passersby “Happy Holidays” or “Merry Christmas” I feel that elusive spirit of Christmas enter into my spirit and I know that beneath and behind all of the trappings of the holiday, people know , need and seek the blessing of Charity.

The ringing of that bell is when I find Christmas, every year and this year, on December 22^nd, I will do it again.

Top Holiday Memories - Episode 15

Years ago I received a Christmas card with the text below. It remains my favorite Christmas message of all time. The card had a simple dove in flight, descending on the front of a navy card. Inside, it read:

“Remembering that once, long ago, heaven reach down and touched earth and Hope was born anew.”

Amen.

Top Holiday Memories - Episode 14

When my older brother and I were very young, about 8 and 9 respectively, my grandfather gave us guns for Christmas.

They weren't real guns, they were toy shotguns. By pumping an arm on the gun, we could compress air in a chamber that then released a loud ‘puff’ of air from the barrel when fired.

The guns came with targets, stand-up images of wild animals. My favorite was the largest target of a tiger that had a plastic image cut into strips that hung from a small frame. When you ‘shot’ it, the air from the gun would make the tiger disappear until the strips settled back – waiting for the next shot.

My brother and I played for many hours with those guns and targets and anything else we could find to shoot –including neighborhood cats, and dogs. As we grew, both of us turned to hunting different game.

My brother is an avid deer and turkey hunter. I am always hunting for the next story to tell.

Top Holiday Memories - Episode 13

Here is one – just as my mother sent it to me:

“The eve of Christmas 1945 there was a knock at the door and I answered it. To my great joy and surprise it was my Daddy. He had been in World War II in Japan. I had been sick and they sent him home just at Christmas. What a happy time it was for my family.”

Top Holiday Memories - Episode 12

Packed with 10 year old energy and holiday enthusiasm, I went with my mother to buy presents for my brother and sister. I found a simple camera – plastic case, drop-in film (REMEMBER WHEN WE NEEDED FILM?), and a fixed focus lens – that I could afford for my brother. I was BIG TIME excited as we packed it into the bag with the other gifts in the back seat of the car.

I knew my brother (14 months older than me) would NEVER guess what I had bought for him. Christmas was one step closer to fantastic! Later, my brother walked out to the car and climbed into the back seat before my mother and I got to the car. The horror hit me. What if he looked in the bags and saw the camera?!

I rushed to the car, flung open the door and shouted, “Stop! Did you look in that camera?!” My brother just looked at me like I was crazy. Realizing what I had done – I was mortified.

I never have been very good at keeping secrets.

Top Holiday Memories - Episode 11

From this year…

My wife heard a crunching sound coming from the living room and after investigating caught her dog, Sunnie, (note when he is bad he is her dog) making a snack out of one of the ornaments. Sunnie was chewing on a low hanging Gingerbread Man Ornament – now a one legged Ginger Bread Man ornament. My wife recued the ornament and re-hung it higher on the tree – leaving the recent Gingerbread Man amputee for others to see and wonder about.

I guess that Ginger Bread Man didn’t “run, run, run as fast as you can” – fast enough…

Top Holiday Memories - Episode 10

There are so many Christmas songs. We each remember hymns, carols and tunes from year to year. They’re always one or two ‘new’ songs published each year as artists try to share new twists and themes for the season.

I’ll never forget the year I heard “The 12 Redneck Days of Christmas” for the first time.

(Chorus)(Sung)

12 pack of bud, 11 wrestlin' tickets, Tin a' Copenhagen, 9 years probation, 8 table dancers, 7 packs of Redman, 6 cans of spam... 5 flannel shirts..., 4 big mud tires, 3 shot gun shells, 2 huntin dogs, and some parts to a Mustang GT…

Top Holiday Memories - Episode 9

Certain Christmas gifts speak for themselves. It seems my grandmother and grandfather got on a gift theme for a couple of years – gifts that sing.

Two of my favorites were “Billy Bass,” the wall mounted bass that would fold out from the wall and sing “Take Me To the River” and the stuffed reindeer that song “Grandma Got Run Over by a Reindeer” when you squeezed its hand. My granddad, then pushing 90+ years old, would get endless joy from introducing each member of the family to the sounds of Bill Bass and Grandma’s Reindeer.”

Some Christmas gifts speak for themselves – literally.

Top Holiday Memories - Episode 8

It isn’t common to have animals taking up residence in your Christmas tree, much less reptiles! A while back, I took to owning an iguana. Purchased a couple of months before Christmas, the second Christmas found my iguana, Grendle, almost three feet long and prone to wander about the house when let out of his cage. He seemed to like sitting along the back of the sofa most, yet one day this mini-Godzilla disappeared. We all looked for him for hours. No luck. Then, my oldest step-daughter gasped and pointed in the direction of the Christmas tree.

Our iguana had nestled in among the branches and seemed to be enjoying the warmth of the lights. From that day forward, until the tree was taken down that year, he would blot for the tree whenever he was released from the cage. It was fun watching visitors discover the beast in the tree.

So, what’s in your Christmas tree?

Top Holiday Memories - Episode 7

His wallet was tattered, held together by carefully placed tape and a couple of rubber bands. Being a child of the “Great Depression” my grandfather never believed in wasting anything that had the least bit of use in it – including the remnants of his brown leather wallet.

My grandmother, Nana as she is known to all of us, rarely got the chance to surprise my grandfather. He was just too quick mentally and perceptive about his surroundings, but this year she knew she had gotten one by him. She had bought him a new wallet and carefully wrapped it and placed it at the back of the Christmas tree. Wanting to make sure her gift would be the only wallet, she had secretly told the rest of the family about her plan. Every adult knew – except my grandfather.

Christmas eve we all gathered and opened presents. My grandfather opened Nana’s last. As he carefully released the tape, unfolded the paper and lifted the gift from the box, we all saw his old, torn wallet. “Who in the world gave me an old rotten wallet,” he exclaimed. As everyone watched on shock, he continued, “Why, I’ve a perfectly good wallet right here.” As he lifted Nana’s gift from his pants pocket – it was clear to all of us that he had switched the wallets and rewrapped the box sometime earlier in the weeks preceding Christmas.

To this day we all still chuckle about it and Nana – well she still pretends to be mad.

Top Holiday Memories - Episode 6

My maternal grandparents lived in the motel they owned and ran on Ocean Boulevard in Myrtle Beach, S.C. The living room had a large picture window that looked out over the front porch and onto the street below. The Christmas tree always went in front of the window.

My grandparents were the first to get an artificial tree, and they went all out. The tree was silver metallic and had ornaments, but no lights. The lights were provided by a large floodlight sitting on the floor beside the tree, shining through a revolving color wheel that changed the light – and thus the tree color – from red to green to white to blue. It was amazingly different and I was enthralled for about 30 minutes. They only used that tree one year.

Top Holiday Memories - Episode 5

My Aunt Betty always did an amazing job wrapping presents. Not only did she hide the tape beneath the folds (this was before double sided tape), but even the wrapping paper with patterns, met and matched at every seam, while the bows, always handmade, top each present with brilliant color and design. Aunt Betty’s presents were a work of art. My Grandmother was always quick to inform us that Betty COULD do those, because she had plenty of time - not having any kids of her own and all – “bless her heart.”

Years later, after Betty and Bobby had children, her wrapping still made me marvel.

Top Holiday Memories - Episode 4

Then there was the time that without any provocation and no history of misbehavior, Eleanor the Siamese cat leaped from the ground into the Christmas tree and sent it crashing to the floor. My in-laws, who housed the cat, subsequently tied the tree to the door hinge with twine ever year – even after Eleanor died.

Top Holiday Memories – Interlude

In order to get the episode number and the calendar date to correspond (I’m just anal that way), I’m delaying Top Holiday Memories – Episode 4 until tomorrow.


In the mean time, feel free to add your own thoughts or memories in the comments – that or sing The Twelve Days of Christmas in a round with yourself.

Top Holiday Memories - Episode 3

I don’t know what possessed me. Most of us were standing back stage in the elementary school cafeteria that doubled as our auditorium. I was in the fourth grade and we had just begun to plan for the Christmas program. We were all singing America and although I was always an outgoing child, I didn't know the first thing about singing but when we got to “…above the fruited plains” I couldn't help myself. Something deep inside of me expanded and I sang so loudly that the music teacher rang back stage shouting, “Who is that!?”

I sang “O Holy Night” as a solo that year. It was one of my first “on stage” moments. It is one of my mother’s all time favorite memories – mine too.

Top Holiday Memories - Episode 2

The colors of blue, green, red and bright white danced across the ceiling; the patterns always different - an intertwining of light, creating brief illusions of texture and living shapes. If I listened closely I could hear the ping of the bulbs as they flashed individually on and off. I lie on my back on the sofa, staring at the ceiling watching for repeat patterns and tried to imagine what would come next. My thoughts flashed from the lights to the coming of Christmas. What was in the present under the tree wrapped in the bright green paper with my name on it?

I could have stayed there forever. In some ways, I guess I did.

Top Holiday Memories - Episode 1

The single pane glass quickly fogged beneath my breath. I leaned back and did my best to draw a snowman in the white moisture. Now neatly lined up along the middle row of window squares were a rain deer, Santa face, Christmas tree and now a snow man. I was passing the time waiting for my Uncle Bobby and Aunt Betty to arrive for the long awaited Christmas Eve family gathering – when we would exchange and open presents.

To a child this was a moment of waiting that can’t be described in terms of excitement or anticipation, and I was a child then. I don’t remember when they arrived. I don’t recall what presents were given or received. Yet, for some reason, I can remember the feel of the cool glass on my nose and the sound of my finger drawing lines through the moist fog – and more than anything else, I remember being excited and happy.

Top 15 Southern Holiday Gathering Truths

1. That favorite dish your mom makes is still as good as you remember.

2. Somebody in the family is in trouble with the law again this year.

3. You are probably the only one driving a Honda.

4. Smoking is still expected inside at all times.

5. There is NOT, no matter how much we talk about it, an annual family tradition.

6. You will be expected to participate in the annual family tradition.

7. You are expected at Christmas if you didn’t visit for Thanksgiving.

8. Football will be explained with hunting analogies.

9. Hunting will be explained with football analogies.

10. There will be no raw, steamed, green or leafy vegetables at the holiday table.

11. There is always something that needs to be fetched from the store.

12. You will talk for hours and never really say anything.

13. No matter how hard you try not to, you will spend hours trying to figure out what everyone is really saying.

14. You are related to everyone there and you won’t know several people.

15. Everyone there loves each other as best they know how.

And, You will either leave this holiday gathering thinking your family is a dysfunctional tragedy or the funniest assortment of people you could ever imagine – it totally depends on you.

Technorati and Kim E. Williams

So, I've decided to give the folks over at Technorati a go to list my blog in their directory of millions - but, I figure it can't hurt.

They sent me this - Nov 24, 2009. Technorati will need to verify that you are an author of the blog by looking for a unique code. Please put the following short code Q4U2XAUYGZGS within a new blog post and publish it. Once it is published, use the "Verify Claim Token" button to tell Technorati your blog is ready for verification.

Here we go...

Home Coming of Female Progeny

My daughter, now living in L.A., is coming home for a Thanksgiving visit. She arrives today.

We have a tradition of sorts - breakfast together at The Bagel Station. I'm hungry already!

What Makes a Woman Beautiful?

There is little in this world more beautiful than someone who takes care of themselves in order to be able to care for someone else.

I overheard a woman discussing her recent workout routine with a friend. Her goal was to increase her upper body strength in order to better lift and care for her handicapped child.

Beautiful woman.

Waving Goodbye

A Child

Pats the water with her foot

Ripples

Spread gently, caressing the surface

Gliding outward, searching for shore

Fading to smooth

Tiny toes

Break the fluid plain

Movement

Life upon the stillness

Reaching

Longing

Hoping for a place to land

Again and again

Each gentle touch fades

Weakened waves reaching

Never touching the distant sand

Destination

SPLASH!

Surges churn turbulence of sea

Arms and legs violate the stillness

Liquid rage calls

To the depths

Unknown concentric waves

Demanding, diminishing, stopping

Stillness

Descending shimmers

Calming the spot

Closing the circle

Cessation

Now

On a distant shore

Small ripples lap the sand

Lap the sand

Home

-Once, an Adolescent that I knew took her own life. This poem is dedicated to Cathy.

Quoting

Mediocrity knows nothing higher than itself, but talent instantly recognizes genius. - Sir Arthur Conan Doyle

Socail Media Connections and #favsay

I'm truly enjoying my involvement with Social Media - Blogger, Twitter, LinkedIn and Facebook to be exact.

First, I invite you to connect with me on any or all of those platforms (see sidebar Social Media buttons).

Also, I would like to invite any of you who are using Twitter to join me in a conversation that I've started about Favorite Sayings- #favsay.

Over the years, we all hear and commonly use certain sayings or expressions that we like. A few of mine are: "My get up and go, got up and went," "I'm finer than frog hair," "That just makes my ass want a cup of coffee!"

So, what are your favorite sayings? Feel free to share them here and with me on Twitter - remember to include the hash tag #favsay

My Life Is Waffle House!?

It is very interesting what one can learn from listening.

I treated my appetite and ignored my need for low a cholesterol diet (shhhh! If you don’t tell my doctor, it doesn’t count), and had breakfast at Waffle House "the other day." As I ate, I listened.

Karen is in her mid thirties, has two children and hates it when her kids stay home for snow days. She drives an older Nissan. She has a small space between her two front teeth that she tries to hide by rolling her lip over them when she is laughing. It doesn’t work.

The cook, an all but kid in his twenties, plans to get his GED this year and then study at the community college, or maybe join the Navy. He likes his job, and doesn’t cook rubber eggs. I think that is considered an accomplishment. I know my eggs were very tasty. I think his name is Mack, or Mick. He didn’t have on a name tag.

Betty is clearly the matriarch of the group. She smiles as she listens to the banter of the ‘younger’ staff. She moves effortlessly from one task to the next, often working ahead of the others. She greets regulars by their first name, or with a knowing nod. Her under the cuff comments to the others often brings a smile or a giggle. Betty is, and wants to be the Queen of the WaffleHouse.

As I sat at the counter, eating my cheese eggs, grits and butter soaked raisin toast, gazing at the laminated menu pictures of the many heart-stopping, artery clogging, cholesterol enhanced foods, this thought crossed my mind: Is there really a difference between any of our lives, other than the package that that life might reside in?

Your Beauty Stops

Your beauty
Laid out before me
Stops

Your beauty
Laid out before me

Orange hues wrapped in purple haze
This sky
Brushed upon a palette
By the descending of the sun
Layers
Broadcasting the coming night
Filled with hope and promise
Your beauty is laid out for me

A beauty that seeks me
Reaches out and touches my eyes
Causing them to scan for you

A beauty that grazes my thoughts
Hunting for understanding
Beyond knowing the work of light
Reflecting through prisms
And chemicals reacting in mist
Longing to be known

Your beauty
Laid out before me ready to be known
As in an embrace lovers know
The caress of wonder
Possibilities of tomorrow
In each gentle sigh
Each kiss of moisture

Your beauty
Laid out before me stops

Longing is left alone
Desire
Calm and undisturbed
Even as your wonder
Strikes the lenses of my sight
Pounding
Nothing but a distant echo

Is heard

Tonight…

Accidently Developing A Personal Brand

I launched this website and moved my blog over here just a few months ago. Now that I've settled into the new design and look, I'm very pleased. Thanks to the folks over at BEM Interactive (my employer - nothing like a little brown nosing) for helping me set things up and hosting the site.

This feels very much like my place. The design rightly reflects my personal energy and approach - right down to the rolling steam off the coffee cup. I'm always ready for some creativity over a cup of coffee.

"The other day" I attended a Linking Greensboro event and won a door prize of a free business card design from a local graphic artist and marketing consultant. We met, and I simply directed her to this site for artistic direction. Along with information she gleaned from our conversations, she designed a wonderful card for me to use to promote my non-employment self for speaking and teaching engagements. The design of the card, front and back, is below.

All of this to say, THANK YOU Danielle Hatfield (@dhatfield) for a professional, playful and accurate representation of me!

Time Will Tell

Situation: A couple, newly together, watches a DVD together. She falls asleep half-way through. The next morning he sends her an email…

“Thank you so much for last night. It is wonderful to have someone who thinks enough of me to watch what I wanted to see. I know you don’t like horror that much. You were obviously very tired. I’m delighted you were comfortable enough with me to fall asleep. I wore the same shirt today because you left a tiny bit of drool on my sleeve and I wanted to keep you close. See you tonight.”

Same couple, same evening, five years later…

“I don’t get you! Not only do you not care about anything I want to watch but you fell asleep on my favorite shirt and drooled all night! Next time, just go to bed. I’ll be home at 7:00.”

Same couple, same evening, 15 years…

“Enjoyed the movie. I dropped off the laundry (I got something on my shirt). Did you take the DVD back? Pick up something else when you go – one of your favorites this time. Oh, I’ll be home at 5:30, do you want to go out for dinner? You pick.”

The One Word for Access to Success

Yoda said it this way, “There is no try. Only do or do not.”

Nike said, “Just Do It!”

The word is out, and yet we too often keep using it. My days are busy rushing to get things done, and someone asks me to do one more thing. Instinctively, I hedge my commitment with, “I’ll try.” A colleague offers a valid improvement in my technique and suggests that I make a change. Hesitantly I agree, “O.K. I’ll try.”

The difference e between saying “try” and “do” may seem subtle, but it is powerful.

Find a pencil or pen right now.

Yes. Really. Go find one.

Set the pencil on the table in front of you. Now ‘try’ and pick it up. Fact is, either you did it, or you didn’t. Yoda is right. There is no try. Try is something we are not committed to doing.

My suggestion for today is that we stop saying ‘try’ and make the commitment to do things we need to do, or simply want to do. Proclaiming “I’ll do it” may lead us to failure, but failure is the friction that makes success possible – and that is another post…

Do It!

Ifs, Ands and NO Buts...

The theme of this website proclaims “It begins with words….” I believe in the power of words, but not just the obvious power of words that hurt or console, I believe words are woven into every fiber of our existence. Words, properly understood can reveal intent and affect outcomes. Even a small change in a phrase or word choice can have a powerful affect on our lives.

Take the word “but” for example. We use it often, “I understand that, but I think it’s deeper than that.” “I want to, but I’m too tired.” “Yes you did, but that’s not what I meant.” The power of the word ‘but’ is that it negates anything said before it. Someone said once, “’But’ is the great eraser. It erases the value of anything before it.”

It is my observation that there is no better fuel for an argument than a hefty and well placed “BUT!”

I find it very interesting to practice using another word than “but.” Try “and” for example. “And” is a good alternative it makes an acknowledging, respectful way to add another piece of information or perspective to a statement.

“I understand you feel that way, and I still want you to get it done.”

“Yes you did, and that isn’t what I meant.”

“I want to, and I’m too tired.”

Using “and” gives value to both statements and allow us to add information and often depth to a conversation in a nonthreatening fashion. We can acknowledge what someone has said and then add our perspective.

I’ve tried to eliminate the word “but” from my daily speech. It takes some practice and it seems worth the effort. Give it a try. Let me know what happens.

I Found Myself Humming

I found myself

Humming into the mattress

With you

It was an accidental thing

An exhale that sent a slight vibration

Through the sheets

I enjoyed the sound

The sense

Of my humming

Beside you – with you

The vibrant ripples made me giggle

And roll joyfully

Leaving all tension and dis-ease

I found myself

Humming into the mattress

Thank you

Another Word Thought...

I often find myself looking at words or sayings and asking things like "where did that come from" or "what does that really mean?" Today I typed my status into Facebook "...is finding Friday to his liking."

What does it mean to find something to your liking? The image that came to me was one of taking the something (in this case Friday) by the hand and walking it over to wherever my "liking" was - and helping them "find" or get to know each other.

Could that be where the saying originated?

A Story to Tell...

The sun cast shadows upon the meadow, long tendrils entwining the branches of distant trees into a single shadow.

An aging warrior sat upon a rock overlooking the rolling fields that lead to his town and home, allowing his thoughts to cast their own shadows, collecting into one thought: "How much longer can I do this?"

With effort he lifted his weight and stood facing west. He felt the pain surge through his broken knee, again and the skin burn beneath newly forming scabs on his back. He stood and prayed aloud.

"Odin, my guard and guide. For 50 seasons I have live here. For 36 of these years I have fought the Beast into submission, sending its weakened body and depleted spirit back into the caves to sleep and heal through the winter. I wield sword and shield in Your name and provide safety for my home, my family, my village. Each year I fail to destroy the Beast and like the certainty of each spring it returns. I am tired and wounded and this time I fear tired beyond the recent battle and am wounded of not only body, but spirit. How long, Odin, how long can I continue?"

The warrior gave into his pain and stumbled again sitting, resting his hand on the hilt of his sword and brow upon his forearm. He could hear the music and singing beginning already, drifting across the darkening meadow in celebration of his apparent victory. He knew better. He knew that the beast would live and in a few months they would renew their battle, and he doubted his ability to endure. He felt not only the pain of his new injuries, injuries that would heal, but the weakness in his limbs from healed and scared damages of battles past.

Tonight the village would sing. Tankers of ale would be hoisted in his honor. The voices of maidens would sing and young men would weave another chapter in the tale of his valor. Their Hero was invincible. The winter would be safe.

But next season would come and the fight, his fight would continue.

A breeze lifted his thinning hair and he raised his head.

"Odin," He spoke almost a whisper, "Tonight we will celebrate. I will not worry about the aging of my bones, or the weakening of my strength. Tonight I will give you thanks for our victory, another year of safety. But, tomorrow I will not lift tankers of ale or songs. I will forget the victories of the past, and I will prepare for the battles to come. I will lift wet-stone and blade, shield and arm and back to the work of a warriors training. I will not quit. Odin, you have my word and my life."

As the last word drifted away on the breeze, a tired man stood and began walking to the village.


Note: This story came to me this weekend as I finished hours of yard work. The fall cooling of the air is here, and I was aware that the hard work of yet another summer is almost at end. The respite of the fall and winter will soon be here - only to give way, soon enough to another year... I know there are a limited number of years left in my life when I can manage the hard and relentless work of maintaining our home, and I wondered...

Too Full

The quill rests full
Dripping onyx truths
Upon parchment
Unable to spill
Small enough droplets
To inscribe
You

The Beach Remembers

The beach remembers

Lover's tastes and trash

And it can't forget

Too many breezes blow

In strong currents

And sand tossing tourists

Piles of humanity

Discarded playthings

And burnt butts

Cans crushed under foot

Seasoned among sea oats

And barley stained

His hands upon her

Rumpled sands swaying

And tides wetting

Every passion gets remembered

By the beach beneath us

And our trash

Dangerous Passions?

A number of weeks back, several friends sent me the same link to a wonderful video of Elizabeth Gilbert speaking on the angst of artistic genius. I'm not purporting to be a genius, but I have had my share of artistic challenges.

My first true passion was acting. I felt more alive when acting, soaking up the spot light and wrestling with the nuances of character development than I did living my real life. I achieved some modest success while making acting my hobby throughout my life including some professional time with a North Carolina Shakespeare Company, and several cable-run commercials. During college I discovered creative writing and I've had a few article published (during my time as a pastor). Sermon writing, at its best, is a highly creative venue and I relished in both the creation and presentation of sermons for 15 years.

In each of my creative adventures, I discovered the same reality – satisfaction of the urge to create and the compulsion to be a part of something new and dramatic is fleeting.

Often, upon reflection on my own creative internal disturbance, I am left with the following apparent and unsavory thought - The creative spirit, as embodied in so many artists, is its own bane. The artist can devote his/herself to the task fully and in doing so risk a rapid burn or can deny the very passion of the soul and lead a life of frustrated mediocrity. My trouble with this thought is that I don’t want it to be true. Is it possible for an artist to pursue his passion and not self destruct? Is there something in the nature of art that demands the humanity of the artist and leaves her broken?

There is more to say here, but I would rather leave it for your comments. So, dear reader, is your artistic passion dangerous?

Ride The Storm Out

Have you ever had to write?

I have.

There are times when the creative urge within us demands to be released and those of us that contain even the smallest creative tendency are imposed upon – it is a tempest. For these are the moments when the convergence of internal climates mock the posing power of even the most extreme external weather - for in these moments, the storm of passion assails us and we can but ride the storm out.

Sometimes the storm washes up marvelous beauty upon the sands for others to find as they walk by. Sometimes.

A Pending Epitaph - Paint Me Not

Paint Me Not

Paint me not in shades of brilliant blue and red

Coloring over my misguided lines of glossy black

And smeared greys

Don’t layer me over with sentiment and morality

Forgetting my deformity of thought

And bare deeds

Have the fortitude to lay it out

As I was and am naked and old, withered

And decaying now

My life will be dust soon enough and should not be concealed while it can be revealed.

Note: Inspiration comes when it is ready. I was viewing a photo and a post over at MelodyWatson.com and somehow, my thoughts and feelings lead to the poem above...

Listening Badly

You don’t mean badly of it

Your constant chatter

About your thoughts, life moments

Ongoing strident tones

Filling every silence to brimming

I don’t mean badly of it

Listening half heartily

To worn tires chatting

Over tired pavement

Rhythms rising from empty drums

Row, Row, Row Your Boat

The other day I went on an eight day, seven night canoe trip with three other men through a section of the Okefenokee Swamp. I had never been on a canoe trip beyond a paddle in the local lake, so I was excited about spending some time doing manly things with other manly men in a manly environment. The swamp is home to snakes, alligators, wild mammals and amazing bird and other wildlife.

I wasn't disappointed. Everything that this type of adventure offers hit us full force, face-on impacting out lives and saturating our thirst for manly excitement and bonding. Perhaps I will share more about that trip someday, but this post isn't about the actual trip, it is about the beginning – the beginning of all things, in a way.

The four of arrived at our launch point and soon had our gear packed in the two canoes full to the top leaving barely enough room for each of us to sit – one in front and one in the rear of each canoe. We had to take everything we needed for the next eight day – food, tent, water, coolers, etc. we had gotten to the launch point later than we had expected and had to talk the ranger into letting us launch late, knowing that we would be pushing the end of daylight before we arrived at our camping platform hours away in the middle of the swamp. Once he saw us safely in the canoes and ready to shove off, her got in his truck and left. We were off!

What awaited us was to be the adventure we all had anticipated for months now. Days of gliding through still dark water, observing wild life, and risking health and hygiene for the sake of doing it! We had miles to go and only days to accomplish it in – the adventure was upon us. Paddles in hand…

Then I discovered one small problem. Although I understood the concept of steering a canoe in open water, I didn't know how. As the lead canoe launched into the swamp, my partner for the week began providing momentum for our travel from the front seat of the craft, while I sat in the back with the duel task of paddling and guiding our boat by using my paddle as a rudder, as well. We zigged. We zagged - and quickly lagged behind.

Point – If you are going to paddle a boat to an adventure, learn to paddle.

The lesson is simple enough, but how often do we get it wrong? Life is a journey – vocations, relationships, self actualization and countless other adventures await us, and how often do we impatiently launch into one thing or another with out taking the time to allow ourselves the learning we need to be able to successfully navigate the trip.

I’m not suggesting we have to be an expert before we try anything new. I am suggesting that some adventures need a mix of experience, maturity and competency before we jump into them. I’ll leave the specific applications of this ‘point’ to your own thought processes. I’ll also state that the greatest lesson I've ever learned is that if I’m going to navigate this vessel of my ‘self’ through life, I needed to spend some time learning the art of doing just that.

In the swamp that day, I had three experienced men who helped me learn what I needed to know – enough to get the boat straight and roughly on course. They never let me forget it, but we did make our first platform just after dark.

The Other Day...

The other day… [STOP]

The post I was preparing to write needs to wait for a brief moment while I explain the phrase above – “The other day.”

I grew up in South Carolina. Along with sand fleas, mosquitoes and inbreeding, the south is known for several colloquial phrases. Where I come from, we know what “the other day” means, and it means something very specific.

“The other day” refers to a period of time that can be from yesterday to several decades past. The meaning, when used by a true Southerner, is to say “When it happened is something I am not prepared to commit to right now, and in fact when isn’t the damn point I’m trying to make and so don’t get hung up on when, or who even, just listen to what I’m getting ready to say next and know that it did in fact happen and it is important that you listen to the story and not get distracted by the facts -now.”

So when I say “the other day” I was listening to Oprah – it isn’t to tell you which episode or year so you can go back and watch it, I’m telling you that what I think about what I saw on Oprah “the other day” is something you need to know.

When I tell you “the other day” I was talking to Aunt Margie – it doesn’t matter that Aunt Margie has been dead for ten years; I’m telling you that she knew something that you need to know right now because it may save you a heap of trouble later.

And, most certainly, when your mother says to you “the other day” I was cleaning your room – be sure that what follows next will not be a discussion about which day ‘exactly’ it was but rather something much more critical to your living future…

I hope that helps. So, the other day…

What Wildness Comes Next?

Last night as my wife and I ate dinner at Wendy's in Brevard, NC (yes. I know we are big spenders), we overheard five ladies talking. Here is the truth.

1. They are all over 60.

2. They have dinner and play cards there at Wendy's every Sunday night after church -every Sunday.

3. They were feeling a bit racy last evening since they had 'skipped' church and started playing cards an hour earlier than usual.

Wild times in Brevard, I tell you. I'm not sure it is truly safe to be there on a Sunday evening! What will happen next - Dogs and cats sleeping together?

Seriously, I found the entire scene delightful and worthy of a movie script.

Just Not Feeling It

I am mostly a happy person. I enter each day with a determination to be positive, smile and find the opportunity in every challenge. Yes, I am one of those people.

Today, I wasn't able to make it happen. Nothing bad happened. Nothing monumental broke or went awry. Yet, I have found this day empty of enthusiasm and lacking in luster.

Chalk it up to "one of those days."

One of Those Days

Walking through cement

Wading in the swamp

Paddling up stream

Strolling up the down escalator

And

Simply not really caring about getting there

We are all allowed one of those days. Right?

Quoting

Those who dream by day are cognizant of many things which escape those who dream only by night.
- Edgar Allan Poe

Website Troubles

There are style sheet imps and code gremlins playing badly among the pages of this site. So far, the blog layout is holding up, but the rest of the site is just doing an HTML version of the funky chicken.

Enjoy this page - while it last. Heh. Repairs forthcoming.

UPDATE: 07/27/09 @ 10:53 a.m.

All pages now reporting success!

Submerged

It is all gone now - the world of air breathing creatures and screaming sounds demanding, requiring something every moment of all days. Gone. This viscous shell into which I have plunged protects me and presents to me colors vibrant and dancing on the scales of fish and small bubbles of relief, ascending, taking with them each a small measure of my former dependence on demands and oxygen. I grasp razor edged rocks with delicate fingers ignoring pain for freedom and beauty of this moment. I will soon need to return, but not now – not for an eternity of heart beats measured in a few more clicks of the clock – the clock that ticks still, up there.

Juggling?

First. I am NOT a juggler. Nope. Notta.

However, this show was amazing and I discovered an amazing sub-culture that has, well, made me paranoid that there are jugglers everywhere. Be afraid. Be very afraid.

Quoting

Try to learn something about everything and everything about something.
- Thomas H. Huxley

Blog moving...and Gender Variants

Hopefully, in a few days this blog will be moving to my new site - http://www.kimewilliams.com.

In the mean time I have been wondering about some gender issues. I have noticed - with all due reverence and distance - an interesting discussion over at Simmonne's about 'bums' - butts. The discussion has been mainly among women and has been a delightful, if playful, affirmation of physical attributes. It is lovely, actually, that these ladies are so supportive, complimentary and encouraging of each other's appearance.

Which got me to wondering if men would be similarly impassioned to each other. The following is the imagined conversation that went on in my head:

Me: Hey, Dave... I was reading this woman's blog about liking her own butt, and how interesting it was that the ladies that comment were celebrating their favorite's among their own and each others body parts. Do you have a favorite physical attribute?

Dave: Dude. You're gay. I got your body part right here! Hey - where was that site? Do they post pictures?

Yep. What was I thinking?

Quoting

For a true writer each book should be a new beginning where he tries again for something that is beyond attainment. He should always try for something that has never been done or that others have tried and failed. Then sometimes, with great luck, he will succeed.

-Ernest Hemingway (1899 - 1961), in his Nobel Prize acceptance speech

Skin Crawling

Spend some time with someone who gets under your skin.

When I as in college, among the various subjects I studied was physics. I remember very little of that complicated subject, but one concept that sticks with me is that in order to have movement, friction is necessary. Just a quick jaunt down memory lane to the last time my truck as ‘stuck’ in the mud and I fully understand the need for friction in order to move.

The need for friction makes sense in physics. In order for an object, a car for example, to move from one point to the next, friction must exist for there to be sufficient traction for movement to happen. There are obviously many more factors - laws even - at work in the equation needed to get that car moving, but my point about the necessity of friction make sense easily enough.

What brings me to this – and what this is about, really – is pondering the need for friction on an interpersonal level as we attempt to move through life. Without stretching the analogy beyond recognition, I have thought quite a bit recently about how even though I often choose to be around like-minded people, very often it is when I am face-to-face with an individual or idea that just grates on my nerves that I become most passionate, and I know passion moves me. Isn’t it true that we often hone ourselves against the wet-stone of contrast?

So, I hang out this thought today – Should I intentionally seek out times to be around a person, place or thing that I know irritates me? Is a possible solution to ease, and perhaps apathy as simple as forcing myself to experience something I am against?

Should I spend time periodically with someone who gets under my skin?

A Musing Space

The water, hot and welcomed, pounds my shoulders and cascades around my neck, stripping away the dirt and sweat. Anchoring my hands on the shower wall, I let the water work its magic. I close my eyes, exhale strongly, and release my mind. The water envelops me, my senses, my mind...

Are there sounds that are only heard by the deaf? Are there things unseen to those with sight? Might the angst-ridden beauty of artistic accomplishment reveal itself more clearly to those burdened of twisted mind and unbridled emotion?

My life has been one of growing peace and routine more than artistic angst or spiritual distress. For awhile now, I had grown accustomed to percolating emotions, those feelings that lurk, coiled and ready to strike, manifesting malformed action and self-destructive choices. I have found solace regularly in the creative word. The twist of a poetic phrase or the presence of a story unfolding beneath the key stokes often releases much. Now, it seems that I am driven less and less to release my serpents of spiritual distress. This is different. Not good. Not bad. Just different.

I know the truth. I know that there lies deep within me an eternal presence, my creative magical essence that demands to be known - my familiar, my dragon, The lines of poetry, the tales woven in prose, the occasional burst of fire breathed from comments, are all glimpses of a piece of her being: scales of translucent blue, a sapphire eye blinking in the dusk, the sound of a gentle, rumbling breath, a brush of a powerful tail. She is my eternal muse. I miss her, these days. I sense she misses me.

Yet, here in this steam cloud, beneath the relentless waterfall, while all sound is blasted away, I hear her breath, steady and smooth. Through closed eyes, I see again, the cave where she dwells. It is in this moment I know that I could extend my arm and touch her. I can't help but smile, wondering what journeys await.

We live.

The Thinning of One

The Thinning of One

If I am not careful

With my thoughts

My ideas

Plans

Dreams

I will become thin

On artistic endeavors

Of creativity

Possibilities

Virility

Thin

Is transparent

Lifeless etching

On contemptuous bones

Not Even Strange

It should have been a strange experience, but it wasn’t.

The room was filled with chatting and laughter. An arrangement of peculiar instruments were placed at one end of the room – didgeridoos, drums, crystal bowls, bull-roars, various flutes from around the world, chimes and items I could not identify formed a semi circle around two men.

My wife had arranged the evening, as she is prone to do, with certainty of purpose. She knows me, and she knows the likelihood of me pursuing such an event on my own is slim. She also knows that the reality of my appreciating and benefiting from such an experience is almost certain. We had registered and made our way back to the main room amid gathering people, nervous laughter, meaningful hugs and an atmosphere of escalating curiosity.

The group of us, about 15 in all, found our places; lying on the floor supported by various mats, pillows and blankets. After a brief explanation, the sounds began. This was advertised as an evening of sound and healing. Amid sometimes gentle and sometimes piercing sounds, I rested motionless and felt my way through the evening. Images came and went. Ideas floating in, some staying a while, and then out. I was sometimes aware of the movement and noises of others. Moments found me very aware of where I was and what was going on. Moments found me adrift in the twilight of relief. Then, as simply as it began, it stopped.

I listened as others shared of their experiences, stories of traveling to other places, regressing to previous life moments, journeying inward to spiritual realms. I understood much of what was shared – conceptually, at least. I just listened.

For me, it wasn’t about going anywhere. It was more about what came to me, and even that, the coming to me, I can’t really describe. What I can tell you is that I have slept wonderfully ever since. Something rode in on the waves of crystal bowls, and in the swirls of twirling blades, and through the chanting of ancient flutes. Something came gently on the tunes of voices and the rhythm of drums. Something of great value came and drifted through the discontinuity of my thoughts, images and sensations. It should have been a strange experience, but it wasn’t. The healing was, well, normal.

Good night.