DID I PICK THE STONE

How many of us have been walking along the shore of a river, a stream or a lake

by ourself or with our partner, our son…our daughter…

and randomly picked up a stone…carried it for a while, took it home

or skipped it across the water.

If, as indigenous people believe, everything on Earth is connected…

every thing…one and all…

then perhaps you picking that particular stone…

wasn’t so random after all.

Perhaps there are time in nature…for reasons we’re not sure why

we feel more connected to the earth, the sea, the sky.

Perhaps there are times we are more attuned when out in nature walking

When we feel more attached to our surroundings..

when we can hear Mother Nature talking. 

Perhaps what we think is a random stone…

actually is not!

What if that stone is telling us 

he or she is tired of staying in one spot…

What if that particular stone wants us to understand….

It feels like going for a ride…or being held within our hand.

And if that stone asks to be skipped across the water…

if we listen…we just might

hear that skipping stone…squeal with delight.

So the next time you pick up a random stone…

remember this indigenous people’s philosophy…

and ask yourself…did I pick this stone…

or was this stone picking me.

 

STORIES

 

 I was standing in an extremely slow moving line at a Spectrum office the other day…

doing my best to wait patiently…

with one older woman in front and to older men behind me.

When we realized we’d be in line for a while

which was causing the older woman some consternation

we decided to pass the time in some friendly conversation.

It turns out the two men were Vietnam vets…one spent 18 months there in 1970,

the other 13 months in 1964.

The stories they told were more about ways they distracted themselves

to take their minds off the atrocities of that war.

While they were trading stories…of a place and time that was not part of my fate…

the older lady ahead of me was constantly complaining about the wait.

I stood there mesmerized at the juxtaposition…

of a lady whining about how the line was moving so slow…

And two men so easily discussing those months 

that, I’m sure, changed their lives…all those years ago.

Well, the older lady finally made it to the counter…and once she was on her way…

realizing my question would take some time…

I told the Vietnam Vets to go ahead of me…and I’ll come back another day.

As I listened to them I kept thinking to myself…I can’t imagine what it’s like in war…

then I thanked them for their stories and their service…before heading out the door.

In the parking lot I was met by that same older lady…the one complaining in the queue…

She said the battery in her Subaru was dead…and she didn’t know what to do.

She said the reason she was impatient (and now crying)…she wanted me to know…

was her 62 year old son died of cancer…just two days ago.

So I hugged this stranger in the parking lot…in the midst of her bad day…

then we found a man with jumper cables…and she was on her way.

As I stood in the parking lot after she was gone…I thought how life is so bizarre 

how we’re all living different stories that forge the people who we are….

A myriad of stories…some happening today…others now long gone.

And how sometimes we’re too quick to judge another person…

when we don’t know which page their story’s on.

A revelation felt in a parking lot after standing in that Spectrum office

in a line that was moving slow….

as I listened to two Veterans tell their stories…now six decades in the past

and felt one older lady’s sadness…that began two days ago.

ONE TINY FEATHER

 

I was sitting on our porch enjoying a cool mountain breeze the other day

with the view of the mountains so grand

when in the midst of all this reverie…a tiny feather landed on my hand.

I’d never experienced a feather so tiny…it was a sight to see

and I wondered of all the places in the world…

why had it landed on me?

I quickly looked around…and just was quickly formulated a plan

to find the tiny bird who dropped her tiny feather in my hand

I wanted to ask her why she had chosen me…to drop a feather on today….

but I never got the chance because that illusive bird…had already flown away.

I assumed it was a hummingbird who left me this little gem 

we often see them hovering around the feeder we have out for them.

In fact they like to buzz my head in the morning…

It is there way to shout

that they are hungry and I have forgotten to put their feeder out.

But the feeder was out and waiting for them…

no need to buzz my head…

could there be another reason…

for this feather to be shed?

Since she didn’t hang around for me to ask…this is what ii think…

It was her way of saying Thank You…for providing her a morning drink.

It could be the feather just fell off her…and in a completely random way…

floated on the breeze and onto my hand that day.

But I prefer to think it wasn’t random…

that it was part of this hummingbird’s plan 

and if she ever pauses long enough…

I’ll ask her as fast as I possibly can.

BUT I THINK DIFFERENTLY

 

 One of the material things left behind in our cabin

by Deborah’s father…Fred

was the pith helmet he wore in the garden

that, luckily, fit’s my head.

I love to wear it when working around the cabin

I’ll wear it when planting a garden down on bended knee

I like being reminded of Deborah’s dad every time I wear the hat 

he passed down to me.

It is one way to honor him and remind me to be like him

to enjoy life and take it slow

while hoping that hat still has enough magic in it

to help our garden grow.

I was wearing the pith helmet the other day…

as we were unpacking boxes that filled the cabin floor

and when I finished I set it on the hat rack

that now stands beside the door.

That evening sitting on our couch…as contentment I was feeling

I noticed the shadow of a heart projected on the ceiling.

It was created as the light below formed the shadow 

of Deborah’s dad’s old hat

and looked exactly like a heart…from the position where I sat.

Some people may think it’s just an optical illusion…

just my feeling and emotions playing tricks on me

That I’m seeing in that shadow exactly what I want to see.

That I have allowed my affection for him and my imagination to soar

That the shadow is just a shadow…just a shadow…nothing more

That my heart and mind are somehow influencing

the shadow that I see

But knowing the man who once wore that pith helmet around the cabin

I think differently

A WORLD OF WONDERLANDS

 

It’s only been nine months but Violet, our great-granddaughter 

is growing up in a happy home.

Her parents and family will always be there to shower her with love…

to lend a helping hand…

It is our hope that her first memories 

will be of a home 

she calls her wonderland.

Her parents, family and friends have covered her land

with everything they consider worthwhile… 

She will never want for love…a touch, a hug, a kiss…a smile.

Everything we say and do…are meant to make her smile…

to enhance her self-esteem…

to create a cozy and pleasant wonderland

where she will be inspired to wish and hope and dream.

Wow! We’re proud of you! Great job reaching for the sky!

We knew you could do it! We believe in you! Congratulations!…

Way to go! Nice try!

We know with every word of support and encouragement

even if she’s heard these words before…

her courage and resolve will strengthen

and her confidence will soar.

So one day when she’s older her parents will sit back and smile

knowing they had a hand

In providing her the foundation…to build her own wonderland.

As I watch Violet’s Mom, Dad, Grammy and Great-Nana

everyone…gently pick her up…and hold her…

and see the smiles on all their faces 

as she lays her head upon their shoulders

It gives me hope…that if we could channel this feeling of love into everyone…

If we all took the time to lend more helping hands…

We would find ourselves living happily

in a world of wonderlands.