WORDS...

 

The words we choose are powerful…

think of the different worlds we create 

when the words that flow from our lips 

are words of love and kindness…

as opposed to words of hate.

Words of love and kindness have the power to build happiness, 

to make us smile…

to bring another joy…

words of hate but one power…

the power to destroy.

We have a plethora of words of love and kindness at our disposal…

whatever kind of love we want to create…

ah…but therein lies the rub…

as the same holds true for hate.

When we use words of love and kindness…

when we see that smile on another face swell…

we can’t help but feel in our hearts

a little love and happiness as well.

When we use words of hate…

when hurtful obscenities we yell…

as we destroy another person…

we destroy ourselves as well.

It all comes down to the kind of echoes we want to leave behind…

the type of world we are trying to create…

Do we want to be cherished for our words of love and kindness…

or remembered for our words of hate?

REMEMBERING WHO I AM

 

He began to write before his diagnosis…sometimes he wrote…sometimes he drew.

He didn’t need a doctor to tell him…something he already knew.

He would close his eyes for a moment and search back in his mind…then write a story or draw a picture of any memory he might find.

His children sat him down one day and said they had something they wanted to discuss… “These memories you’re writing down,” they asked, “all these books…are you writing them for us?”

“Because we don’t need all these books to remember the wonderful life we’ve had…we don’t need these books to remember you…as a kind and gentle dad.”

“No children.” Their father smiled, “the reason I am writing…the reason my bookshelves are so crammed…is to help me remember, when I begin to forget, the person who I am.”

This disease will be taking away who I am…that’s what dementia does…so I’m hoping I can use these books…to help me remember who I was.”

I know who I was and I know who I am right now…that’s easy for me to see…but it’s scary because when my memory is gone…I’m not sure who I will be.”

“That’s why I’ve written down some memories…and other memories I drew…so in the midst of the darkness that is coming…some light will come shining through.”

“It’s funny I started writing these as a present to myself for when my mind’s adrift…but being able to write down a lifetime of memories has turned out to be a gift.”

And Dad was right there came a time when his whole life, to him, became a blur…when even during our visits…he didn’t remember who we were.

So we’d take out his books of memories…his writings and the pictures that he drew…with the hope that somewhere in his darkness…some light would come shining through.

And as we sat and read him his memories…not very often but once in a while

a light would find its way to Dad…and for a moment…he would smile.

FATE AND FRIENDSHIP

 

There is no doubt Fate plays a part in our lives…from its beginning…to its end.

I’m reminded of this when I think back to a story of three friends.

Fate brought their families to the same neighborhood…where time together they would spend…each family had a daughter and the three would soon become good friends.

It was a simpler more innocent time and these three young girls found a way…to meet up when they could…and play outside all day.

They did the things that young girls do…they talked…they imagined…they performed…and somewhere in their time together…an eternal bond was formed.

They grew up and went their separate ways…it is often how the hand of Fate extends…but through it all, no matter what, they still remained…good friends.

Fate filled their lives with marriages, divorces, births, deaths, joys…sorrows…their friendship helped them rejoice in each other’s happiness…and absorb each other’s woes.

Fate allowed them to meet less frequently…but it didn’t matter where…or when…for the moment they got together…they were three young girls again.

Fate brings them back together occasionally now…where they follow that age old paradigm…they talk about life, and family, and children…and they talk about old times.

They love to reminisce about the time they all first talked…first imagined…first performed…a time that seems like yesterday…when their friendships were being formed.

I wonder how often they look back on their lives and think how they’ve been blessed…how Fate brought them together…and how their friendship did the rest.

And I wonder as they sit together sharing memories of the lives they’ve been compiling…if Fate, proud of the hand she played in this…

isn’t looking down…

and smiling.

WHEN I LEARNED TO RIDE

 I was returning a bike to it’s home this morning…left out by a child who, no doubt, was remiss and as I pushed it along the sidewalk I began to reminisce.

Back to when I was a child…remembering what it was like…the day I learned to balance…the day I learned to ride a bike.

I remember the innocence…the freedom…riding without a care…I remember the smile on my face …I remember the wind blowing in my hair.

I’d ride for hours with my friends…friends with whom I’d grown…for once you hopped on your bike in our neighborhood…you never rode alone.

Our bikes took us on adventures that strengthened our hearts and soothed our souls.  We’d only stop to climb a tree…skip some stones…or dive into the swimming hole…

We loved to ride together through the ditches during a rain..

and if we fell and skinned our knees…we just ignored the pain. 

We learned to ride with no hands…down our street and all around…

We’d attach baseball cards to our spokes just to listen to the sound.

For when we heard those baseball cards…on whatever bicycle we were striding…no longer were they bikes…but motorcycles we were riding.

On our bikes is where we learned to be independent…it’s where we learned to pretend…on our bikes is where we learned what it means to be a friend.

At the doorstep of the house I set the bike down…gently on its side…and I thought how different the world is now than it was when I first learned to ride.

I’m not sure it was true…but when I visit those memories again and again and again…wasn’t the world a little kinder, a little gentler, a little more innocent back then?

Perhaps that’s why as I grow older I find it difficult to comprehend…how, though many people still remember how to ride a bike.…they’ve forgotten how to be friends..

How somewhere in the midst of living…they’ve forgotten how to be kind…

How without the  even realizing it…they’ve left their innocence behind…

Which makes me wish more people would remember exactly what it was like…

The day we found our balance…the day we learned to ride a bike.

A DAY TO REMEMBER

 

I believe one of the reasons the Creator gave us memories is so…once the movie is our mind is played…we can remember what brought us joy in life…as well as the mistakes we’ve made.

If we use our memory as intended…we will do whatever it takes…to look back on the life we’ve led…and learn from our mistakes.

Today is Holocaust Remembrance Day…a day some people would like to hide…a day to remember the Nazi Party and their attempt at Genocide.

A day to remember the millions of victims of the Holocaust’s inhumanity…a day not only to remember the atrocities…but how those atrocities came to be.

The Nazis used propaganda…they spread misinformation…they lied…they used the latest technology to increase fear and prejudice and hate…and millions of people died.

And the world stood by and wondered as the Nazis tried to create…a land of white supremacy…based on vitriol and hate.

Today’s the day to remember…and to try and understand…a time in history when love was forgotten…and hate tried to rule the land.

A day to remember one country’s attempt at Genocide and to do whatever it takes…not to let that ever happen again…and to learn from their mistakes.

But as evidenced by the events of January 6…an insurrection some are already trying to forget…as we remember the Holocaust today…we haven’t learned its lesson yet.

If we do not learn from our mistakes…we will never be the people the Creator intended us to be…as I’m sure Native Americans, people of color, Muslims, the LGBTQ+ community and many more of us...will readily agree.

THE LANGUAGE OF THE EARTH

 

What if our planet…the mountains, the oceans, the rivers, the trees the animals…the land…has developed its own language…a language we have yet to understand.

What if they communicate with one another…to make right anything that goes wrong?

What if this is the reason they’ve survived on Earth so long.

What if our survival depends on how much we understand…the language of the mountains and the rivers and the land

For what a sad day it will be when the very last human has died…

not because we couldn’t communicate with our planet…

but because we never really tried..

TUCKED IN

 

Before he was born…before his life in this world would begin…inside his mommy’s tummy…he felt safe…secure…tucked in.

When he was just a baby…before his memory in this world would begin…his mom was there to say good night…and safely tuck him in.

When he was just a lad…growing…still small and pale and thin…he remembers all those nights when his mom would tuck him in.

Whether it was a day when he would lose…or a day when he would win…he remembers his mom was there at night to safely tuck him in.

When he grew a little older…now more mature…finally growing into his skin…he told his mom he was too old for her to tuck him in.

With a smile and a nod his mom acquiesced…much to her chagrin…for she knew, in his heart, there were more important things than to have his mother tuck him in.

As much as she loved tucking him in…as much as she hoped those moments would last…as what happens in every family…she knew those days had passed.

But she was there to lend a hand, when he needed a smile, a pat..a grin…in her mind she found other ways to safely tuck him in…

Her impact on his life was everlasting…even though she’s gone, at night in bed he grins…as he closes his eyes and remembers…all those nights she tucked him in.

THE BEST DOG EVER

 

The best dog we ever had arrived at our house when he was only two…we named him Whitman (after a bakery)…turns out…he liked donuts too.

Whitman died a long time ago…from a cancer he couldn’t survive…but an old movie I saw yesterday brought his memory alive.

Reminding me of all he taught us…all the blessings he endowed…I’m not sure I ever thanked him when he was alive…so Whitman I‘d like to thank you now.

Thank you for teaching me how to be gentle…you certainly had the knack…all those time you stretched out on the floor and let the grandkids climb upon your back.

Thank you for teaching me about patience and loyalty…like I’d never been taught before…for all those times I’d return home and you’d be waiting by the door.

Thank you for teaching me about friendship…how friends don’t always need to talk…thanks for showing me how to listen on our early morning walks.

Thanks for teaching me about giving…for all those times you found your way to me…when you sensed I was sad or upset and you put your head upon my knee.

As we both grew a little older…thanks for teaching me it’s okay…

to find a warm spot in the sun…and take a nap in the middle of the day

And as the cancer overtook you…and your body couldn’t keep pace…you taught me how to deal with pain…with dignity and grace.

The final thing you taught me…as it came your time to die

was that the deeper you love someone in life…the harder it is to say goodbye.

An even when your journey together is short…once you form that partnership

no matter how hard it is to say goodbye…it is totally worth the trip

So let me take a moment Whitman…as I feel your spirit hovering above…

To thank you for helping educate me about life…

and teaching me about love…

FOOTPRINTS

 

They had a civilization…a way of life…a culture they held dear…this land was sacred to them…they buried their ancestors here.

When we didn’t understand their civilization…their culture…how they talked, lived, danced or prayed…we called them wild…we called them savages…and then we took their lands and their culture away.

We brought them over in chains on ships across the seas…We took them from their lands, their homes…we stole them from their families.

We did not like their color…didn’t understand they could be proud or noble or brave…We called them less than human…and we turned them into slaves.

We have treated many people shamefully in this country…women, LGBTQ+, Japanese, Muslims can be added to the list…and I’m sure there are some groups or individuals I probably have missed.

There are only two reasons for treating another human being…in a way that’s so unfair…either we didn’t know any better…or, perhaps, we just didn’t care.

Neither reason is a good one…never…never….never

For the shadows or our inhumanity will stay with them…forever..

Because whenever we do an injustice to another person…cause their harm;…their pain…their dying…the spirits of those we hurt will never stop their crying.

Oh, how I wish we could change all this…to have life put on the breaks…so we could go back tin time and reverse our horrible mistakes.

But no matter how many times we’ve hoped or or wished or got on our knees and prayed…we cannot erase the footprints we’ve already made.

But we can take a close look at those footprints… at the pain they caused…the shock

and try to be more careful in the future as to where and how we walk.

A NEWBORN'S EYES

 

The first time I see a newborn…I am always a bit surprised at the wonder I experience when I look into their eyes.

I see a future that looks rosy…one that, no doubt, for the parents will come too fast…but as I glimpse into their future from my present…in their eyes I also see their past.

They are surrounded by family and friends…who, by their expressions, already adore them…but also in their expressions I see the faces of all those who came before them.

I see Grandma’s, Grandpa’s, Uncles, Aunts…everyone smiling and glad…

I see brothers and sisters…nephew’s and cousins…I see Mom and I see Dad.

And when I look a little closer I see how all these faces harmonize…It appears to me as plain as day…when I look into their eyes.

How lucky are the newborns…not only because of all those people who’d been awaiting them…but for all the people in their past who played a huge part in creating them.

This is why when I see a newborn…I will always be surprised…at the wonder I experience…when I look into their eyes.

LITTLE CHAIR

 

We have this little chair in the children section of our store…given to me by a family whose children have all grown…who didn’t need it anymore.

It’s still in great condition besides being a little battered…a little bruised.  They wanted it to find a good home…where it would still be used.

Yesterday, as a family was leaving the store, the father stopped me with a story he wanted to share…He said his daughter was in a bad mood all day…until she sat in our little chair.

He said there must be magic in that chair…in that tiny little space…because the moment she sat down it put a smile on her face.

That evening as I was cleaning up I saw that little chair and the father’s words rang in my head…so I took a moment to think about exactly what he said.

And it made me wonder if there isn’t magic in our little chair…magic of some kind…magic from the family who gave it to me…magic their children left behind.

Magic from the memories those children made as they sat in that tiny little space…perhaps it was their magic that brought a smile to her face.

As I cleaned the arms of our little chair…and dusted off its foam…I thought…the family who gave it to me would be happy knowing their little chair has found itself a home.

A TRIP OF A LIFETIME (A COUNTRY AND WESTERN SONG)

 We met when our children were quite young…you had a boy, I had a boy and a girl…We fell in love and we didn’t think too much back then…about how our life would unfurl.

We got busy building our life together…and somehow when we were done…the two families from where we began…had blended themselves into one.

(CHORUS)

YOU ALWAYS WANTED TO TAKE THAT TRIP OF A LIFETIME…SEE EXOTIC PLACES…TRAVEL FAR AND WIDE TOO…AND I PRAYED AND I WISHED THAT SOMEDAY…I’D GIVE THAT TRIP OF A LIFETIME…TO YOU.

But is seemed there was always somethin’…call it luck, call it life, call it fate…that needed fixin’, needed mendin’, needed patchin’…and that trip of a lifetime could wait.

You fed us, you clothed us, you loved us…you taught us lessons we needed to learn…and you smiled…all the while you smiled…never asking for much in return.

(CHORUS)

But the kids started growin’ and needin’ you…”Hey Mom! Can you help? That’d be great!…and the car needed gas and repairin’…guess that trip of a lifetime could wait.

That’s what happens sometimes as we’re liivin’…seems no matter what plans we make day to day…things happen to change what we’re thinkin’…seems sometimes life gets in the way.

(CHORUS)

The kids grew up, moved out…had a life of their own…you did your job and they all turned out great!…and finally, at last, it was your turn…your trip of a lifetime need no longer wait.

We drove across the country together…stopping in places some near…and some far…we were determined to enjoy this journey…just the two of us in our little blue car.

And I loved watching your face on this journey…even though we were had a few more age lines…because every time I’d see a smile on your face…it somehow…brought a smile to mine.

As I look back on our incredible journey…all the good times…and all the bad too…I realized my trip of a lifetime didn’t begin in that car…it began…the day I met you.

(CHORUS)

WORKS OF ART

 

Have you ever watched an artist paint? The canvas is blank at the start…but, eventually, by deftly adding colors…it becomes a work of art.

The artist begins with a pallet of colors…each color in a separate lake…when that artist takes one color and adds it to another we marvel at the new color those colors make.

And we realize when the painting is completed…something the artist is quick to explain…how there is no way two pieces of art can ever be the same.

Even if the artist tried to recreate that same picture…even if the artist painted slow…when the painting is completed…subtle differences would show.

But that is as it should be…from that blank canvas on which the artist starts…every painting completed is meant to be an original work of art.

I imagine the creator who paints our sky would also be quick to explain this is the reason why no two sunrises or sunsets will ever be the same.

And certainly that’s true…if you’ve ever watched them from the start…each sunrise and each sunset is an original work of art.

I imagine, like the sunrise, each human the artist paints is a blend of colors from the start…each one of us with our own subtle differences…each one of us an original work of art.

I can’t imagine the artist when deciding what colors in humans to create…had any inclination one color would dominate.

But that is what has happened over the years…when we humans view each other certain colors cause a fuss…but that is not the artist’s fault…the blame here lies with us…

And will continue to lie with us…and continue to tear us apart

until we view each other as the artist has intended…

as a beautiful blend of colors…

as original works of art.

A POSSUM IN THE ROAD

 

If I’m asked what is my religion I find it hard to say…because nature is where I get my counsel…she’s where I go to pray.

I try to make my questions simple and easy for her to hear…but her answers are quite nebulous…and never quite as clear.

She answers in a way, I’m sure, she thinks will help me evolve…it’s usually a riddle, a puzzle or some conundrum I must solve.

Take this morning for instance I asked why so much pain, suffering and injustice on this world has been bestowed…Her answer came quite quickly…she sent a possum across the road.

(This might not seem like an answer to you…but there’s more to this story yet…for in all the years I have been walking…this is the first possum I have met!)

This is the kind of response I always get from nature…the kind that makes my head explode…I ask for a simple answer and she send a possum across the road.

I saw him coming from my left…he was walking in the grass…I paused and said, “Good Morning Mr. Possum”…he gave me a quick glance as he passed.

Since I’ve been asking questions of nature all my life I think I got her gist…she was showing me the answer to my query is in how we choose to coexist.

I did not try to capture the possum…I did not try to change him…I did not pick a fight…instead we allowed each other to be who we are as we passed each other in the night.

Nature was reminding me how for a long time….every species on this planet knew where they belonged..every part of Earth co-existed…until mankind came along. 

She was reminding me there is a way to fix the problems…and I’m the only one who can…because the pain and suffering and injustice in the world begins and ends with man.

She was reminding me the solutions to the problems in the world need not make my head explode…That they actually may be found by watching a possum cross the road.

A SHOOTING STAR

 

Thank goodness I was looking up this morning because, in the blink of an eye, I saw a shooting star as it flashed across the sky.

My brain tells me it’s just a rock and once it hits our atmosphere…it’s dead…but my heart tells me I glimpsed an angel flying overhead.

In the quiet of the morning I swear…I heard that angel swish…and before she faded from my view…I knew I had to make a wish.

Shooting stars are rare…in my lifetime I’ve only seen a few…so I knew this wish had to be important…if it was ever to come true.

But a shooting star, as I just said, is over in a blink…which doesn’t give the person wishing a lot of time to think.

I knew it had to be a wish for all the children of the world…all the women…all the men…because I may never get another chance to make a wish like this again.

So I closed my eyes and made this wish for me, and you…and you:

May peace and joy guide our spirits in all we say and do.

I sent that wish up to the sky…out over the ocean blue…with the hope that angel would catch it and make my wish come true.

My brain tells me making a wish on a shooting star is probably not that smart…but when it comes to making wishes…I tend to listen to my heart.

RABBIT WHISPERS

 A rabbit in the wild, unlike his friends the birds, goes about his entire life without saying a word.

At least that’s what the scientists tell us…and every textbook too…but after having walked with rabbits for a while…I wonder if that’s true.

I love watching rabbits…in their quiet solemnity…doing the things that rabbits do…that is…until they notice me.

They look at me suspiciously…I’m sure they want to know…

will I try to hurt them…am I a friend…or foe.

Of course it usually doesn’t matter…they are not inclined to stay.

They turn and whisper to one another…then quickly hop away.

Which makes me wonder…after witnessing this firsthand

If rabbits have a language…one we just don’t understand…

What if rabbits speak to one another in whispers…whispers we can’t hear…but whispers all the other rabbits pick up…loud…and clear?

What if rabbits are just a little quieter but have been communicating all along…what if all those scientists and textbooks have been wrong?

What if rabbits have a complex language…a wide vocabulary array…but what if rabbits only speak when they have something significant to say…

If we took the time, to observe them in the world that they inhabit

think of how much we could learn just by listening to the rabbits.

Think of all they have to teach us…if we could only find a way

to listen to their whispers…and hear what rabbits have to say.

IT'S IN OUR BLOOD

 

There are many of us who say we had nothing to do with the theft of land out from under the Natives who were here before us…that we didn’t break any promises, we didn’t lie or steal or kill in a massive land-takeover bid….

There are many of us who say we feel no shame, we take no responsibility for those actions…that was something our ancestors did.

There are many of us who say we’ve never enslaved another person…we’ve never mistreated, abused or caused another person woe…

There are many of us who say we feel no shame, we take no responsibility…that was our ancestors…and that was a long, long time ago.

But there are some of us who still see the impact of our ancestors…who see the destruction and devastation that has lingered long after the flood…

who know as long as there is still one person feeling their effects…

there will be a heaviness in our heart 

and shame running through our blood.

FORGOTTEN AND REPEATED

 

I never fought in Vietnam…my parents never had to worry…to fear…to morn…for the simple reason my draft number was connected to the day that I was born.

I sat watching draft numbers being picked…wondering what I was going to do until my birthday draft number was finally called and I was 322.

As luck would have it I had a friend whose birthday was number 4….So I went off to college…while he went off to war.

A war that had been raging for 9 years…causing pain and grief and tears…

Sadly, the anguish and the agony of that war would rage on for 10 more years.

The soldiers who went off to fight…young men and women side by side…like any soldier in any war…they served, they fought…some died.

Over 58.000 young men and women died in that war…a number both sad and profound…some of their bodies never made it home…to this day they’ve never been found.

But those who returned alive from that Vietnam…found their war was out of fashion…they did not receive their country’s glory…nor their countrymen’s compassion.

It was a war that divided our county…pitting Americans against each other…

In the streets, to protest a war, we fought with our own sisters…our own brothers.

Yesterday we stopped at a park near a downtown South Florida neighborhood…where, to our surprise, a replica of the Vietnam War Memorial stood.

The wall was erected to memorialize these soldiers…whose lives went un-completed…with the hope the lessons from that war would never be forgotten…or repeated…

In a solemn, sobering moment I was filled with sadness…tears began to fall as I ran my fingers across the name of my friend upon that wall.

How sad it was to gaze out on all those names…trying to ascertain…after watching what Americans did to Americans this week…if my friend and all his friends hadn’t died in vain.

Wondering in the aftermath of a week where we ignored old lessons…where old mistakes were, once again, repeated…how many more people will be hurt…how many more lives will never be completed.

Wondering if it’s possible, as I ran my fingers along that wall…if there will ever be a time when there’ll be no wars at all…

I believe it is possible, without war, for people to come together, to compromise, to help their hate and anger cease…I believe every language has a word for this…

I believe that word…is PEACE

THINGS I CANNOT LIVE WITHOUT

 

Here is a recent question posed to me that I needed time to think about…

What are the things in this world…I cannot live without?

Looking past food and water…the things my body needs in order to help it thrive…

I thought I’d concentrate on those things my heart and soul need to survive.

The first, for me, is love in all it’s many forms…like the love of my family and friends…Yes, love is definitely something in my life I never want to end.

The second would be hope…for even in my darkest times…when I was filled with doubt…hope was standing by my side telling me…things would all work out.

Any time a storm hit my life…no matter where or when…hope was there to remind me…the sun will shine again.

Perhaps that’s why I love sunrises so much…although this may seem a bit cliche…because rising with the sun each morning…is the hope of a new day.

The third thing would be beauty…for as long as I’m awake…I love my relationship with beauty…our subtle give and take.

For when the beauty I see around me…in the land, the sea, the air…finds its way into my heart…I begin to see more beauty everywhere.

Music would be next up…all the different types of music that I hear about…especially the music of nature…something I don’t think I could live without.

The roar of the ocean, the whistling of the wind, the sound of a single raindrop pinging…how you never know on a walk in nature which birds will be singing.

I’m sure there are more things I can’t live without that if I thought harder I would find…but these are the first four things that popped into my mind.

I don’t think it’s a coincidence that when I read this list backward…(the list I just made up above)…music, beauty, hope…all lead back to love.

No, I don’t think it’s a coincidence at all…in fact…I have do doubt…

Love is the greatest gift of all…and something I cannot live without.

MY ANCESTORS ARE WATCHING

 

My parents found the perfect way to make me behave on each step of the life I’m notching…they told me whatever I do good or bad to remember…my ancestors are watching.

They said I am the product of many ancestors who were on this Earth before me…and how each ancestor is but one leaf upon our family tree.

Wherever I go I carry the branches of my family tree…it’s how those who came before are watching over me.

It’s been a rather easy way to keep my life in sync…because before I do or say anything, I ask myself….what would my ancestor think?

I have felt my ancestors all my life…since I was a little boy…I have shared with them my sadness…I have shared with them my joy. 

No matter where’ I’ve gone in life…no matter how old I’ve grown…I’ve always had this wonderful feeling…that I have never been alone.

Whatever actions I’m about to take…my reasoning is always the same…

I want to honor those who came before me…I don’t want to cause them shame

And I look forward to the day I get to meet my ancestors…and they get to meet me…when I find my branch and take my place upon our family tree.

Where I can smile down on my great great grandchildren and the lives they will be notching…knowing from my place upon our family tree…along with my ancestors…I’ll be watching.

WHEN I WALK IN SILENCE

 Once a day I like to walk in silence…not only to concentrate on what I see…but to listen in to what the voices of the Earth are trying to say to me.

There are voices in the trees, in the clouds, in the mountains and the creeks…and if I listen closely in the silence…I can hear those voices speak.

And the more and more I listen to the voices of the sky, the sea, the land…the more of what they’re saying I begin to understand.

I can hear if one animal is happy or another one’s in pain.

By listening to the wind and the clouds…I begin to understand the rain.

Across the sky and hiding in the trees…are many different languages..a myriad of words…after listening in silence to them…I begin to understand the birds.

The rooster who announce it’s time for the sun to rise…the owl and the nightingale who tuck their families in by singing a lullaby.

I’m not sure how it works but a simple walk in silence as the day’s about to start…seems to give the voices of the Earth time to reach into my heart.

Which makes me wonder if this wouldn’t work with people…family and friends we meet along the way…What if we listened more in silence to what they had to say?

What if silent listening to the words of others…once from their lips their words depart makes it easier for their words to find a way into our hearts?

For I believe it’s only when words have been planted in our hearts that they have a chance to grow…why do I believe this…because on a silent walk one morning…

a little birdie told me so.

DON'T HAVE THE TIME

 

We hear this excuse quite a bit lately as we make our daily climb…

I have so much to do…so man responsibilities…I just don’t have the time.

I’m working hard for all the things I want…all the things I need

I don’t have time to exercise

to cook

to eat

I don’t have time to read.

I understand how busy we are in the world we’re trying to create

I only wish we were so busy…we didn’t have time to hate.

How wonderful would it be to hear words the world has never heard before:

I don’t have time for prejudices

I don’t have time for killing

I don’t have time for war.

because I’m too busy enjoying nature

spending time before each day ends

in the bosom of my family

or catching up with friends.

Imagine with me, if you will, a world we can create

where we’re much too busy spreading love

that we don’t have time to hate.