Skip to main content

Little Fairy Wings.

I'm at my friend Karen's house, typing on her office computer. I love this room! So much light coming through the big window, a great vibey space.

I just looked to my left out the window and outside there are the biggest widest leaves I've ever seen on this palm-tree type Cali plant. I mean, these leaves are HUGE. I honestly feel like I could get up on one of those leaves and slide on down like a Fairy in a Disney film into a delicious, pool of water. Splish splash, I am having a blast!

And wouldn't you know it that just yesterday by the pool, I saw this very same plant, just from another angle, and from much further away. It looked just as magestic, and proud and green. Nothing Fairy-ish came to mind but I did marvel at its beauty.

I am amazed by life: It never ever stops offering us opportunities to see from a different persepctive, to experience, and feel, and love, from all directions. Even in the familiar, there never ceases to be a way-in that's new.

I suppose it's our job to practice seeing with a sense of newness that we may not be accustomed to. To see with newness, we must practice slowing down, breathing, smiling.

Imagine how we'll all be noticing life in a new way when can feel our own hearts again. Because we are God's little Pixies, here to create and carry out our own little adventures - splish, splash, Cleaning off the little Fairy wings! They need to be sparklie and fresh because they are our transportation to Neverland, where the adventure lands, but never ever grows old and where every boy and girl is free to fly to and fro as the light, to the light. We can be like little fireflies flitting about by our little Fairy wings, seeing what's around each bend, smiling all the way.

Ahhh....I could get used to this.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

staying connected.

I made a big change.  I followed a call.  I was drawn to Colorado, and to the sun, and to things not quite in my view yet.  Two months ago I moved about 30 miles from Denver, to a cabin, in the mountains. It's remote here, but I still need to connect with the internet powers, and to share my music during these extended pandemic times, and to ease into mountain living with a sprinkling of modernity. I found a broadband company who can service my area and last week they installed all the moving internet parts. Yay! No. slow ... slow ... "can't connect"...over and over, "can't connect"...  or WON'T, internet, be honest, is it can't or won't??  (I *may* have accidentally been talking to the modem, and the laptop, the broadband company.) I persisted, and as I prepared for this morning's Zoom service, I plugged my ethernet cable right into the modem and I was connected.  Wahooooo ! A half hour later, it couldn't connect again, despite being...

two slices please.

No, not pizza, although ... YUM. Two slices of bread.  I made a sandwich today. Not a one slice hoping-the-sandwich-stuff-doesn't fall-on-the-plate version, but a two slices kind, one that secures all the good middle stuff.  The one-slice sammy is something super familiar to me, and to be honest has not always been the healthiest choice, emotionally-speaking. It has been a design to keep me "on track", carb-controlling, monitoring all that enters this body. My go-to on managing change, stress, fear ... Old stuff that shows up now and again. More on that in a bit. The two slices for lunch today secured the sandwich stuff and surprisingly also made ME feel secure, held, cozy and present.  Oh bread, you are a great teacher. See, I've spent the better part of my tweendom 'til now counting, monitoring, restricting: How much did I eat? How many calories was that? Do I look OK?  Are they judging me?  Am I judging me? Somewhere along my path I stopped enjoying food, for...

Golden Retriever.

I'm in a constant state of retrieval. Retrieving lost parts of myself for recrafting purposes. Retrieving lost parts of myself that I gave away to others. Retrieving life moments for reliving purposes. Digging inside to remember who I am. Retrieving the light, a golden retriever.