It's All About the Journey

Today is your future. Live in the moment!

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Stuck in the 60s Tonight

I got stuck in the 60s tonight. I watched one of my favorites: The Newlywed Game. All of them. On YouTube. I admired the bride’s hair: the big beehive ‘do. The mascara and eye shadow. The California lifestyle.

Do you remember that game? We would play it by the hour. You’d draw a chart, naming your choices of places to live, boys’ names (to marry), a car to drive and a career. I cannot remember the counting formula, perhaps one of my readers can. Anyway, count away and you’d find your destiny.

I think I always had choices of California, Florida, or … I don’t remember having any other! Maybe I chose Hawaii. But certainly not my home town.

I’m not sure of his profession, but it was the man’s profession, for sure.

I do not remember the rest. I’m sure a color and a car were significant.

I will always remember how I thought the best place in the world had to be California. I was definitely a California girl. In my dreams.

I’m 61. My dreams have changed. Oh sure, I have visited California. A Californian friend even stated that there is no other place in the world to live! But I do admit, i love my small village I returned to, I love my farm and I love (even more) my farmer, who makes life worthwhile and every day a priceless treasure! (Thank you, Ross).

Still, there is a little girl…and her little girl dreams….


Man vs. Nature

I’m so tired of news. Man vs. Nature. What do they expect? Seriously! We mess with the land, we try to tame nature. There is no taming her. She will take over whenever man tries to control her too much. When will we learn to respect her? Leave the Everglades alone, respond to the cities and leave if you need to!

Leave her for a few moments, she will take over her world. This is her world. It’s not nice to try to fool Mother Natire, after all.

Waking Up

I may have used these before, but they truly woke me up this morning, so I feel compelled to share.  I’d written it on a piece of paper and found it in my work bag:

Only that day dawns to which we are awake.

Certain stars open before us, certain stars close up behind us…good and great actions are made up of these blank days.


Taking Hold of Your Moment

The soul gives itself, alone, original, and pure, to the Lonely, Original, and Pure, who, on that condition, gladly inhabits, leads, and speaks through it. Then is it glad, young, and nimble. It is not wise, but it sees through all things. It is not called religious, but it is innocent. It calls the light its own, and feels that the grass grows and the stone falls by a law inferior to, and dependent on, its nature. Behold, it saith, I am born into the great, the universal mind. I, the imperfect, adore my own Perfect. I am somehow receptive of the great soul, and thereby I do overlook the sun and the stars, and feel them to be the fair accidents and effects which change and pass. More and more the surges of everlasting nature enter into me, and I become public and human in my regards and actions. So come I to live in thoughts, and act with energies, which are immortal. Thus revering the soul, and learning, as the ancient said, that “its beauty is immense,” man will come to see that the world is the perennial miracle which the soul worketh, and be less astonished at particular wonders; he will learn that there is no profane history; that all history is sacred; that the universe is represented in an atom, in a moment of time.

The Over-Soul, Ralph Waldo Emerson

We carry God with us.

I will calmly front my day carrying God with me and the whole future in the bottom of my heart.

Photo:  Our Perennial Earth…


If you would like to read more from this moment in our time for your own inspiration, you may find it at

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Shaking the Soul

Efforts to the inner person….the soul…shake yourself, wake up.  Sometimes the efforts best made are those made mechanically, without thought except for doing my best in the effort I am making.  But the soul….am I doing my absolute best?  Am I taking the time to listen to my innermost part, the part where the God of the Universe dwells….I have instinct to pay attention, but the lateral physical tends to take over, leaving the spirit in the dust.  Picking up those pieces takes effort in this human realm, let me walk away from this instantaneous lifestyle that today’s technology offers so that I can listen to my heart beat, on the inside, to reveal to me who I really am, and what really counts.

Color Me Yellow

A Color with the title above “National Trust for Historic Preservation” and below listed as “Homestead Resort Pumpkin” was my final decision for my new kitchen.  I had practice, I’d put a yellow gingham valance at the window first to get the idea.  I finally grabbed a fistful of samples from the display and this was the winning yellow.  

Yellow.  Who in the world would want to paint their kitchen YELLOW?  It’s so…60’s?  While I was up on the ladder, painting away, I hoped that it would look okay, it is awfully bright.  But it is also more of a sunset goldish thing.  Or it could be a warm morning sun.  As I pondered yellow I thought about the sun and the energy that it gives to the earth and all it’s contents.  Through that energy, we live and breathe, and if our sun were to disappear, so would we.  The sun gives the moon it’s glow, creating energy there, and as the rotation goes, creates different moons for the earth’s benefit, effecting the ocean waves and even human behavior (and I’m sure if I look further, I can find many other things to associate lunar activity to).  The sun gives warmth to the rocks, who do not breathe, yet they sit here century after century, and one day become “old” rocks.  

So, this is a good reason to paint my kitchen yellow, to honor the energy of the sun and to be grateful for it.  

“Here comes the sun…and I say, it’s alright.”

Photos to follow. 

Trading in my Radio

I’ve traded up. I have ascended to heights I never once considered in my life to be important.

Earlier this spring, with the benefit of a macro lens, I opened my world to miniature wild flora. Appearing to have lost my mind, I became the iPhone photographer, patiently aiming at things that we pass by daily. I keep thinking my book (Up Close & Personal) as complete, only to have to add yet one more flower, followed by another…

But I was adament and while the word birds crossed my mind, I decided to not be interested in those little creatures that everyone else goes gaga over. I’m not buying bird feeders, too much of a lure to the local cats, who seem to believe that I miss mine and feel the need to bring gifts to my doorstep. No way.

Then I started hearing the sound of the dainty call of morning. Pitch dark at 5:30, who can identify? But the sound was sweet, and I have looked forward to his song each morning.

The other day I started looking online and they do have the calls and songs. Listening patiently, I have been able to identify 3, while familiarizing myself with others that I know are there (for example, the robin).

Organizing my house, polishing the banister from years of grunge to bring out its beauty, I resorted to music. While it was familiar and made time pass quicker, I found myself feeling like I had robbed myself of the joy of the music by my new friends, friends with feathers.