T = Trust

Trust is something that is truly personal as an abstract concept.  It is often linked with words like faith, respect, even love.  But TRUST is something that has to be acquired, much like its accompanying words.  

We want our friends and our families to trust us.  It is often something we teach our children, especially as they begin to be more independent in the tween to teen years.  We stress we need to be able to trust them to allow more privileges, more advantages appropriate to their ages.  And if, say, the curfew was midnight, and they wander in at one in the morning, the first words are often, “How can you expect me to trust you now?” to the wayward curfew breaker.  Dilemma time.

Another example would be the wayward spouse, caught in an extra-marital affair.  Suspicions usually are a precursor to the offender being caught, breaking down trust incrementally, if not completely before the “last blow.”

Those are both trust breakers.  So what are trust builders?  Examples of trust builders are one person telling another they will meet with them on a certain date at a certain time and showing up.  That starts the trust ball rolling.  It continues as things that are not of great importance being shared and not being gossiped about with others.  Then the sharing becomes more personal, braver, and still it stays between the two persons.  Trust becomes something important and binding.  It becomes personal and creates an atmosphere of acceptance and belonging.

Trust also encompasses truth and respect.  The faith in the trust that you will not be lied to nor “played.”  Once lies are told, it erodes trust to the point that sometimes it cannot be regained.  If we cannot trust because of lies, we will not respect the liar.  So what happens then?  One is less likely to trust again, to even try to trust again.  So much is lost and to be grieved.

But trust maintained is the greatest gift known because it does create faith, respect, and a deep and lasting love.  It allows the freedom of saying what is on the heart, of being your true self, of knowing that you are accepted, loved, and matter.  Trust says that though you may fail, someone trusts you enough to believe in you to eventually make it.  It says that you have backing, help to accomplish your goals and dreams.  It says there is not an expiration date on caring, believing, backing.  Trust lets the love remain after the person is no longer there that you trust.  It is that abstract feeling and inspiration that keeps you going.  You shared, you loved, you respected, you trusted and it was returned.  

TRUST is an earned gift.  It is a treasure that you hold tightly.  Once you trust, like love, it can never be taken from you, only broken.  Keep it safe, use it wisely, cherish the person who earns it.  It is your gift to them.

S = Shhhhhh

Did you hear that?   Shhhh.  Listen.  There is the traffic from the freeway.  It kind of whirs, doesn’t it?  Whoosh!  Whoosh!  Hear the trucks?  They rumble.  The cars whir, though.  Now, focus on the closer sounds.   

Shhhh.  There’s a leaf falling.  It’s not autumn, the season of leaves falling.  And the leaf makes a sharp sound, falling and hitting the hard ground.  You push it with your foot.  It scrapes.  The leaf is hard.  Is it hard from the heat?  Baked?

A screen door makes a huffing sound as it catches on the way to closing and then clank—it shuts and catches.  You try to narrow your listening skills and sure enough, you hear an inner door shut behind the screen door and the lock turn.  

Focusing again, you stand perfectly still and realize the sounds are less sharp as the sun sets slowly.  It becomes dusk and you hear a buzzing sound—some kind of bug that prefers the evening time.  Then a new buzz.  Lamp posts are emitting a barely audible buzz of their own as they slowly let their light shimmer awkwardly and then light up strong.

Now you can hear sounds of movement, soft and subtle.  A cupboard door closing.  A pan shifting on a stove.  The muted sound of running water.  

You turn to enter your own home and you stop as you realize now you can hear your own feet on the walkway.  You take another step and hear your footfall.  Then the jarring wail of a siren.  It stabs the quiet you were enjoying.  You remain standing in the same spot, unmoving, waiting for the siren to fade.  Slowly it gets farther and farther away, quiet returns.  You step slowly, listening to the grit on your feet on the walkway meet.

You push the button on your screen door and it scrapes, metal on metal.  As you pull the door toward you, it cries in objection.  Then it is quiet.  Sara’s nails click on the wood floor as she brushes past into the house.  The door makes a clicking sound as it engages with the door jamb to close and then another click as you turn the dead bolt.

Sara sniffs, nails still clicking on the floor, as she lets you know she wants a treat.  You hear the bag crackle as you get her a treat from it.  You hear her heavy breathing of excitement.  You laugh.  Quiet time, listening closely time is done.  

It was …  Grounding.  Focused.  Calming.  Serenity within and without.  Shhhhh  

R = Raze

I love words that make me pause before I use them!  I almost get excited over using them appropriately.  RAZE  is one of those words that I love and savor using because it defies the definition I learned originally that sounds the same but means the opposite.  Come on grammarians—what is the term for that?  Think!

The little boy sits down to dinner with his family and grinning, excited, announces, “My friend told me they’re going to ‘raze’ the barn next farm over tomorrow morning.  Can I go watch?  Please?  Maybe help?”

His father smiles as if to himself while dishing up some peas.  “Help?  How do you think you’d be able to help?” he asks quietly.

“I could bring lumber to the men putting it up!  I could help keep them supplied with nails.  I’d be a real part of the whole thing!” the little boy exclaims.

“I don’t think you know what is going to happen,” the father says, still smiling.  “They aren’t going to raise Mr. Jenkins barn, they’re going to raze it.”

“I know!  I know!  I want to help!” the little boy insists, still trying to get approval for his adventure, not hearing his father’s words completely.

The mother looks at the her husband and he acknowledges the look as he turns from her back to the boy.  “Sure,” he says.  “Get your chores done around here and go on over.  I hope you have fun and learn something.”

“Oh, thank you!  I will!  I’ll tell you all about it!  I can’t wait!  I’m going to get to bed early so I can get up and get my stuff done and get over there right off!  Thanks again!” he says as he eats hurriedly to start his part in the adventure.  And the father smiles at the mother as she smiles at the boy.

The next morning, the boy gets up while it is still dark and runs from animal to animal, feeding each and making sure they have water.  He sweats as he scoops up horse apples into the wheelbarrow and runs it to the manure pile to empty it.  Then he puts away hay fork, shovel, rake, watering buckets, chicken feed, rabbit feed, gathers eggs from disgruntled hens, and as the sun rises, finishes all chores.  He sits down for breakfast, mumbles yes to the list of chores his father asks if he’s accomplished around mouthfuls of food, and gulps down his milk.  His father says, “Be sure you take your dishes to the sink and then you can go.  Have a good day.”

The boy bolts to the kitchen with his dishes and says good-bye as the screen door slams behind him.  The father shakes his head, smiling.

The boy meets his friend as they watch the men gather to ‘raze’ the barn.  They whisper to each other how they plan to help without getting in the way, and build the new barn.  But they become confused as they watch men working with ropes around the old barn’s base.  Finally, one boy walks up to the workmen, and asks, “Aren’t you going to raise the new barn?  What are you doing here at the old one?” 

The workman closest stops, looks at the young observer and states, “We’re getting ready to raze the old barn first.  Then we’ll raise the new one.”  He turns back to his work and the one boy walks back to his friend and looking totally confused, repeats what he was told.

“What?  That’s crazy!  You can’t raise an old barn!”  

“That’s what he said.  Honest truth!”

Incredulous over what has been said, they sit down and settle in to watch.  They watch the men tie the ropes at the base of the old barn, attach them to harnesses on the waiting horses’ huge yokes, and then command the horses to pull forward against the strain of the ropes attached to the barn.  The boys shake their heads.  They had never seen a barn raised this way.  With strategically placed ropes, horses obeying on command, slowly but surely, the old barn is razed.  When it is totally taken down, old lumber lying on the ground, a workman motions towards the boys and waves them over.  They quickly run to the site, and hear the workman ask, “You boys want to help finish razing the barn?”  

Still confused, but wanting to be a part of the work, they nod yes and are directed to piles of wood to be sorted and picked up and placed in new piles of lumber that can be re-used and that which will be hauled off for either other projects or fire wood come winter.  The boys work diligently, trying to make themselves invaluable helpers until nothing remains of the old barn.  The workman invites them to sit with him and the others for some lemonade and to take a short rest.

“You boys really did some good work,” one of the men comments.  The boys smile at the man, proud, and then at each other.  The boy who was so excited the night before to help asked, “Can I ask you something, sir?” of the workman that praised them.  The workman nods and the boy says, “We thought we were coming to a barn raising and instead, you tore the old barn down.  We don’t get it.  I mean, we were glad to help and all, but we thought we’d get to help build a barn, not tear it down.”

All of the men laughed.  “We did raze the barn, boys.  Tomorrow morning, we will raise the new one,” the one man  said and they all laughed again.  The boys faces turned red because they still did not understand but were embarrassed by their ignorance.  The eldest of the workmen, a graying man, slightly bent from years of heavy work, said, “  You raze, r-a-z-e, something by tearing it down completely.  You raise, r-a-i-s-e, something by creating and building it up.  Get it?”  The boys looked at each other and then at the man, wondering about what they had just been told.  The old man, seeing they were still confused, said, “This morning you helped raze the old barn so that tomorrow, we can raise the new one.  Okay?”

The wheels of their brains started to turn as the boys tried to understand.  Slowly, they understood that what they had always thought they learned correctly could be a word sounding  the same but have two totally different meanings.  Their faces lost the redness and they felt as if they had actually gone through a rite of passage into the world of working men.  They laughed, this time with the men, as they were now a part of the group.  They were invited back to the barn-raising to follow the next day, thanked again by the group of men for their work and left, feeling older and wiser.

That night, at the supper table, the father asked the boy about his day.  The boy said, “Well, I learned you can r-a-z-e  a barn and you can 

r-a-i-s-e a barn.  I just wish I had listened better to you last night.”  The father just smiled, and the boy smiled back.

Yes, I do love words that play in my mind like raze.  The word makes me stop, think, use it carefully and in the right context. It is not a throw-away word.  It is so unique and I truly love it and using it—a rare gem of a word.

Heh heh—a homonym 

Q = QUIT

We wake up wanting to QUIT  every day.  Our stomach churns, having wakened us with its cramping and fiery demands.  We hurry to the bathroom and sadly and gloomily wonder how long it will last today.  We have Jeff’s job, things to do, Sara to walk and care for—how long today?

We look at the clock.  4:10 am.  We are so tired.  We can see Sara sound asleep on the bed and we so want to rejoin her!  But instead, we doze in the bathroom.  The fire and cramping abate and we stumble back to the bed.  We lie on our left side.  We read somewhere that being on one’s left side allows inner organs to relax naturally.  Sara rouses to snuggle against our sore body.  We think, hope…maybe that bout was it.  We allow ourselves to relax more.  Our gut responds with, “Not Yet!  Get Up!”  Back to the bathroom.  Once more, in the bathroom we doze, but not so long.  We refuse to look at the clock.  The words—“Just Quit.  QUIT all this”— bounce from head to heart.  Back to bed.

Now we are too roused to relax.  The words, thoughts start.  Should we turn on the news?  See what has happened in the last four to six hours?  No!  We aren’t ready to be torn apart by overwhelming sadness, anger, frustration, anxiety.  “Just QUIT.”

We get up.  Now, we glance at the at the clock.  5:24 am.  Okay—a decent hour.  Lots of “normies” start their day this early.  We feed Sara, who has even now, simply shifted positions again, remaining on the bed.  Well, we note, the food is there when she wants it.  We go get the paper, cup of nuked coffee in our hand.  We smoke part of a cigarette, then take the paper inside.

Sara emerges, stretches, and we take her out.  She takes care of business and comes back in to see if we put food in her bowl.  Seeing it, she comes and hops into our lap for petting and kisses.  She loves us, needs us.  Maybe we shouldn’t QUIT.

We give in and turn on the news.  Oh my god.  Not an exclamation—just a sigh—not of resignation but despair.  We scan the headlines in the newspaper and the word “QUIT” prevails again.  Our stomach and gut cramp.  Here we go—it isn’t over yet.

Shower.  Dress.  There’s the bed and it calls us.  But so does Sara as she follows us.  It’s almost time for Jeff to go to work.  Quit?  Not Jeffy.  He’ll never QUIT.  He loves his work.  He works his shift, smiling, chattering, making people laugh as he waits on them.  Then it’s over and we come home.

Having been productive, somewhat, we don’t wish to QUIT.  We want to be with Sara, write our poems, listen to our music, paint, watch the Muppets.  Tomorrow maybe we won’t wake up wanting to QUIT.  Life changes continuously.  Things happen that are good to wake up to.  QUIT?

Just wait and see.  Isn’t it true?

This too shall pass.

P = Peace

If every reader of this blog were asked to say what PEACE means to them, there would be many, many answers.  PEACE is as individual a concept as any abstract one can conceive of.  So we will share what our concept of Peace is.

Peace is a place without fear and anxiety.  Sometimes it can be a quiet forest, with only the sounds of nature present.  Wind soughing through trees, skitters of small animals on a bed of pine needles, a branch of a tree creaking with age.  Or it can be toes touching the ocean waves as they slide in, foamy and cold.  It can be watching little bugs scurry on a hot sidewalk, seeking what they can see and we cannot.

Peace can be listening to music that transports us to another realm with its sounds and maybe words.  It can be taking paints and mixing them to create a color that pleases our souls and then is applied to paper or canvas.  It can be writing down what we feel or want to feel.

Peace can be complete silence or being pummeled by noise that is greater than that within us.  Peace.  Elusive, sought after, a goal that means absence of strife, violence, hatred.  Peace is seeing souls— not color, religion, sexual orientation, wealth or lack of wealth, social status, attire, or affiliation with one group or another.

To our way of thinking, peace, ultimately, is a presence that only resides within us.  It can exist regardless of the outside world.  It can be maintained in any adverse circumstances or events.  It is not “driven” but rather exists as a state of heart.  It can surpass and rise above all else.  It helps people bond heart to heart, soul to soul.  It is a unifying of spirits that wishes only good toward all.

Peace means to us—we will not hate you.  We will not judge you.  We will not wish evil on you.  We will not harm nor kill you.  It means we have hope for a better world.  It means we will say no to destructive behaviors, confident that the peace we feel can be felt by all if allowed.  It means we share it, not share revenge and pettiness.

Peace is not allowing ourselves to be bullied into group thinking, but rather finding our own path and taking our own journey without forcing others to adhere to our beliefs or way of thinking.

Ultimately, PEACE, to us, is saying we can be comfortable with ourselves and others need to be comfortable with themselves.  Then, we will respect each other, connect with each other, and yes, the world in its entirety will have no need to kill, destroy, or harm.  When there is peace within, it fosters peace without.

Peace to all.

O = Obvious

I would be willing to bet that what is obvious to us is not necessarily obvious to you.  Nor any other particular person.  But everyone knows that and because of it, we establish laws, regulations, rules to make it obvious what should be done, what consequences will follow certain actions, and steer us away from chaos and anarchy in our society, our cities, our families.  Right?  Some people will call them “norms,” or “appropriate” actions and to a degree, we try to fit in.  However, these things change as we humans try to better our conditions, environment, and adapt to change. Therein lies the Obvious problem/dilemma.

Right here, right now, this blog can go one of two ways—either sarcasm and satire with humor, or a deep look at the not so funny or humorous state of our national attitudes and what is happening that is so obvious to some and definitely not to others.  So which way to go?

IF we go with an intense look at where our nation is heading, we sense frustration and futility.  We see two definite divisions classified as either Red vs Blue, liberal vs conservative, and then it breaks down into truth vs lies and where the issue of what is obvious becomes tribal and exclusive.  In the microcosm of the family unit we see this division and break down into obviously right vs obviously wrong.  Anyone who has ever tried to argue with a toddler knows this.  What is it Dante wrote about the gates of hell?  Abandon all hope you who enter here?  That pretty much sums up my feelings on what I feel is obviously happening in our society and every thing it touches, including each individual.  To us it is obvious that the current state of affairs threatens our whole country in every way, and to others—well, it is not.

IF  we choose sarcasm and satire laced with some pretty dark humor, it is more pleasant to expound on without getting quite so damned depressed over the whole thing.   And we do sincerely believe humor and laughter are sanity savers.  It would also foster some hope that things can change and enlightenment can take place somewhere, somehow.

So which way to go?  Hmmmmm.  Let’s look at an adult arguing, or attempting to argue with a toddler.  Here’s the scenario.  Johnny is sitting playing with his action doll, contented, happy.  He is not forced to share with older siblings because he’s the “baby.”  Besides, the older kids don’t want his slobbered on toy anyway.  Mom is happy.  Johnny is happy.  The older kids are happy.  Dad comes home to a quiet and congenial house and everyone smiles a lot.  Then there’s a knock on the door.  Oh, wow!  Look who has come to visit!  It’s Aunt Kathy and her toddler.  Wonderful!  The two toddlers can play together and the adults can visit and the older kids can do whatever it is they do when another toddler comes into the house and that is to instinctively disappear, knowing one toddler is controllable, two less so.

Johnny eyeballs his cousin, appearing to clutch his little doll closer.  Cousin Jimmy sees the doll immediately and eye contact is made between the two.  Johnny gets up from where he was sitting, and toddles off toward the parent of choice.  Jimmy, silent but determined, follows.  The adults are oblivious to the brewing storm.  Johnny stands close to his father, in an obviously defensive posture.  Jimmy stands less than a foot away, edging forward, eyes darting between Johnny’s eyes and the doll in Johnny’s hand up by his chest.  The adults keep talking.  An outside observer sees that Jimmy obviously wants the doll and Johnny obviously is aware of that want.

Suddenly, Jimmy steps forward, both hands reaching for Johnny’s doll!  Johnny shrinks back and into his father’s knees.  The father suddenly pays attention and says to Johnny, “Why don’t you share your toy with Jimmy?” and nudges Johnny toward Jimmy while trying to extricate the toy from Johnny’s death grip on it.  Johnny screams, “NO!  MINE!” and Jimmy also screams as he lunges towards Johnny and gets his hands on the toy.  The mothers now start trying to reason with the screaming toddlers as the father tries to wrestle the toy away from four little hands clutching at it.  

The situation escalates as the mothers get louder and try to convince two toddlers to “share” and then the father booms out, “Either SHARE OR I WILL TAKE IT AWAY FROM BOTH OF YOU!”  One would think this would shock the toddlers enough to at least stop the screaming but instead, they only scream louder and have fallen to the floor to carry on their physical battle.  Words of “reason” are being screamed by adults, the two toddlers grapple for the toy, unhearing, when the father reaches in, grunts, and triumphantly stands, toy in hand.  He waves it over his head, the victor over the toddlers, and both kids start bawling and clawing at his pants leg to try to climb his frame to reach the toy.  The mothers each pick up a child to try to distract them from the toy as the father smiles and announces, “Well, I took care of THAT, now didn’t I?” and still victoriously holds the toy above everyone’s head.  At this point, it is obvious that all that was taken care of is the fact that no one has the toy except the father and no solution, resolution has been reached.  Johnny definitely did not grasp the concept of “sharing” nor did Jimmy realize he could not just take what he saw and wanted.  Wailing and temper tantrums continued by both toddlers until Jimmy’s mother finally picked him up and took him home.  Johnny got his toy back and learned that the fight was won by him as the adversary was now gone and he had what he wanted and what he felt was rightfully his.  Did anyone learn anything?  ANYONE?

Yes!  If you scream loud enough and long enough, you get what you want by forcing the intruder out.  No one wants to hear you pitch a fit, you refuse to listen or learn, and ultimately, you win.  Controls, parents, adults, cannot stop you!  YOU WILL GET WHAT YOU WANT!  And the parents say, “Well, at least the screaming stopped.  And he doesn’t understand, but he’ll grow up and get it.  He just needs time.  Anything is better than his fits of anger.”

The older kids return.  Johnny sees that one of them is holding a toy he is attracted to.  He grabs it and runs.  Chaos ensues as the older kid demands to have it back and yells for help from the parents.  Johnny is screaming and clutching once again.  The parents tell their older children to just put up with it.  Johnny will grow out of it.  And so Johnny takes what he wants, when he wants and it is obvious that no one is in control except—Johnny—who they hope will grow out of his insatiable appetite for taking what he wants regardless of who or what says he should not.

Ah, the world of toddlers.  Isn’t it rather obvious that Johnny is not going to stop what he is doing as long as there are no consequences for his selfish behavior?  Isn’t it obvious that as Johnny gets older and continues this behavior that something is awry?  Probably to everyone but Johnny—but obviously Johnny doesn’t care.  There are no “norms” or “appropriate” behaviors for Johnny.  No rules.  No laws.  Just watch Johnny and see the lengths others go to to keep him from throwing a screaming fit.  

Is it not obvious that Johnny needs to be taught through consequences?  Is it not obvious that the more Johnny careens through life, without control, the more the toddler, now growing up at least physically, is creating chaos?  Guess not.  But the obvious solution would be to teach Johnny, and remove his toys until he learns to share or not let him have any at all.  Obviously, if everyone followed Johnny’s behavior, no one and nothing would be safe from him if he desired it.  

And so it goes.  Toddlers.

N = No

Saying “no” sounds so simple.  “Do you want to go with me to the store?”  That is what is called a closed-ended question.  It only requires a simple “yes” or “no” answer.  So how many people say in response, “Well, I can’t because of…” or “I don’t think so because…”  or “Not this time because…” and not just say, “No”?  Isn’t that funny in a weird sort of way?  Definitely not a “ha ha” funny way!

It is my feeling that we are generally conditioned to not say NO without what is deemed to be a reasonable explanation.  It creeps up on us as we become older and trained or maybe even brainwashed into not saying NO.

We all laugh at the toddler that says “no” to every question asked.  They are exercising their right to choose and since no is such an easy word to say and elicits immediate responses, they say no to everything proposed.  Of course we trained adults or older ones try to trick them by asking questions that will get the response “no” and then throw in a question like, “Do you want a cookie?” and they quickly respond with the “no” and usually, just as quickly realize they just turned down a cookie and behold!  Training has begun!  Now, in life, it can go on for a few more years, but is no longer an automatic response and then we start the offerings of reasons for saying the word no.

One of the hardest decisions I ever made was based on faulty reasoning but I said no to what I truly wanted in order to not say no to the needs of a favorite aunt.  Let me explain.  My older cousin asked me to go to dinner and a movie with her (she could drive, I could not yet) but I was visiting my aunt at the time and staying with her on vacation.  I was afraid my aunt would be upset or disappointed if I didn’t spend my time with her, so I made an excuse and declined my cousin’s invitation.  My aunt, wise woman that she was, asked pointedly why I would want to spend a dull evening with her since she was going to bed early anyway, and pass up a chance at a movie and dinner with my cousin?  I offered a really lame excuse and upon having poor answers for my aunt, she asked again did I really and truly want to stay in a dark quiet house with her in her room asleep.  I blurted out, “NO—not really!”  Then she laughed, which shocked me, and said for me to call my cousin and tell her to pick me up.  I was 16 and well-trained to not say no to anyone without a plausible excuse.  And I didn’t want to hurt my Aunt’s feelings.  Now that was legitimate.  The rest?  Total bs.  Sound familiar at all?

I got older.  I would be asked to do things I didn’t want to do.  IF I didn’t want to, I would weigh the consequences of saying no depending on who had asked and their feelings, not my own.  Later, I found out this is a common malady as I would see advertisements for classes to teach people to say NO.  That same word that had been drummed out of us during toddler years was being brought back to us as adults.  Amazing!

I read books on saying NO.  I talked with people about saying NO.  I felt guilt over saying NO.  I got angry at myself for not saying NO.  And then the best advice I ever got came from a wise counselor—“Learn to say no with no explanation, no excuses, and empower yourself.”  Now, if you have never experienced just saying that one word and offering nothing else, you have to try it!  It is truly liberating!  I back-slid many, many times.  The best trials I had with it were the ones where I told persons I didn’t really care about “no.”  That sort of set me up to say NO to people I did care about.

I’d like to say it gets easier and I rarely offer excuses or reasonings behind my “nos” but that wouldn’t be telling the honest truth.  I still make excuses even as I realize no explanation is needed.  But I’ve been thoroughly and effectively brain-washed so I feel the need to explain the little word.  HOWEVER…there will be a day…

“Want to go…”      “No.”

“Want to…”       “No.” 

and then I will feel just as wonderful about…  “Want to…”   “YES!”

Give it a try.  NO?  Okay.  No pressure.  Just a thought…

M = Move

I took a class on writing from Annis at Art and Spirituality and she gave all of us in the class a one word prompt to write on with a time limit.  The prompt word was “move.”  I wrote about the many literal moves I have made and others were less literal and wrote about transitions, abstract concepts of moving, and it was extremely interesting to hear their takes on the word “Move.”  We so love and cherish differences and the input they offer our little mind!  The word move has been presented to us again, this time from a neighbor above us that wants us to literally move.  He left a note with the one word at our door.  We laughed.  What else can you do?  So this word has been on our mind a lot.

In a literal sense, to move is to put one foot in front of the other, or be subjected to the body’s involuntary propulsion constituting “moving.”  It is also to pick up your belongings, and transport them and yourself to another location.  This body moves constantly.  So does yours.  You breathe, don’t you?  Air in.  Air out.  Movement.  Your heart beats—movement.  And you better hope it keeps moving!  And then there are the kids and adults who have to keep the leg jiggling, that hand tapping, that constant movement that actually soothes them into inner quietness.

There is also that packing of belongings, taking yourself and all you own to a new place—new to you, anyway.  So you transport yourself and your belongings—you move.  But it is more than physical in the sense that when you move from one physical environment to another, you inwardly move also.  What you had on one wall in your former abode, you now have to place strategically on another wall in another place.  It’s importance and significance may also shift/move in your perception.  New ideas and decorations shift into the new place as you move.  You understand and accept these kinds of movement as natural affects and consequences in life.

Then there is another way to move.  I love to think of Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr., when I think of the movement he challenged us all to make.  He referred to inner movement towards higher thinking, acceptance, equality, and so many values that need to be a part of our daily lives.  We need to move toward open mindedness, which also includes allowing each person to move as rapidly—or as slowly—as they need to.  But he adds, they must keep moving.  

Movement is advancement.  It can be positive or negative.  It is within our power to choose and act.  Movement is powerful, either way.  We see it in our current world and the people who make decisions that affect us all.  We see it in the way we move toward one thing or another.

We are going to move.  That is a fact.  It is indisputable.  WE decide how fast, how slow, toward what and who, which ideas to advance or try to bury.  Thank you, Annis.  What a word!  Now what will we MOVE toward and to in our hearts and minds?

L = Like

“Like” can take different twists and turns when we say it.  For instance, I like to go to the ocean and listen to and watch the waves.  Or you can be a “valley girl,” and like you know, like to go to the, like you know, the ocean.  There is also the word like when you refer to something being like something else.  No wonder the English language is one of the most difficult to learn for non-English native speakers!  So let’s have some fun…

Jane had always hated brussel sprouts, but at one point, she forced herself to eat them to impress a certain person who liked them.  She stated, “I like brussel sprouts now because my tastes have matured.”  (gag!  choke…)  When those who know Jane, really like KNOW her, question her further, she admits it is a lie and she does NOT like brussel sprouts.  So one of the people that know her, like really know her, says, “I don’t understand why you don’t like brussel sprouts!  Really Jane! Like they taste so good!  Like I would have them every day of the week, you know?”  Jane whirls on the speaker and says through clenched teeth, “They taste like baby cabbages and I hate baby cabbages, grown cabbages, like all cabbage!”  The speaker backs away from Jane’s verbal attack, like way, way back.

Get it?  Like do you see how like can be used like for anything you like want to say?  It’s as blah a word as “nice,” and you don’t want me to get started on that, because I could like go on forever about “nice” and “like” and drive you, the reader up the walls and like—well, you know, like me, too!  And you would not like that, nor would I!

To end on a positive note, though, I do like:

puppy breath

sunrises

concertos

peace songs

reading

nature like the ocean and the forests

And why?  Because these things are like a natural high to me that wash over me, into me and make me feel like life is good when I am surrounded with—well, like, you know…

k = “k?”

Have you ever noticed how lazy we are in speech?  We cut the endings off words, the beginnings off words, and rarely does anyone seem to notice.  We literally teach our kids to abbreviate words.  No one says, “Pardon me?” anymore when they need to hear something again or need further explanation—it’s simply, “huh?”  And since my letter for the night is “k”, I decided to expound on how it plays in our everyday speech.

When I taught English composition to college students, one of my hardest tasks was to get them to write an actual formal essay without texting it to me.  Sure, it was on paper, but in the middle of the essay, I would read, “…so u no what  happened b4 and after…” as they hurried to finish the essay assigned.  I would point out that “u” should be spelled out as “you” and receive puzzled looks and complaints that I was being too picky about the writing.  I, in turn, blamed their sloppy abbreviating on the overuse of texting and emails that encouraged this type of writing, but still insisted that a future employer would not be particularly happy reading “u no” on a resume.  They, the students, would grumble and complain, but generally could understand the importance of spelling out actual words to impress.  And then we would discuss how we butcher the language we use every day.  The class would always become fun.

One example that repeatedly was used was the use of “k” for “okay,” which in turn, substitutes for “all right.”  It became fun when I would ask them to write like they speak on our classroom whiteboard.  A brave soul would come up and write, “How are you?” and usually get laughed at with comments like, “get real, sucker!”  So the brave soul would get a shrug from me and erase the original question and write, “How ya doin?” and see approval from classmates and myself and then proceed to write the answer, “k.”  We would go on with other examples, such as, “whasup?” and some of their favorite greetings.  But always, “K” was considered an appropriate answer in nearly every situation.  So I spent more time listening to them and their conversations and to others outside the classroom.

I stopped in at McDonald’s (error in judgment) and a non-English speaker was trying to order.  Seeing his frustration, and knowing very, very few words in Spanish, I tried to help.  Between the two of us, he was able to place his order and I gave him a thumbs up and a smile and his response?  A huge grin and a verbal “K!”  He didn’t know how to speak English but he knew “K” would work!  To let you know, I will tell you we stayed with him to make sure he got his order, asked him if it was “okay” and again, he nodded, grinned, and said, “K!”  

Later that same day, I got a text message from a friend asking me if I would be in her neighborhood, if I could pick up something she needed and bring it to her.  Without thinking, I texted back, “k.”  AAAAAARGH!  The very thing I was griping about I was doing!

“How are things going?”    “K.”

“Ya got it now?”  “K.”

“Can you do this?”  “K.”

“How are you feeling?”  “K.”

So do I still do this, realizing the trap of laziness I have fallen into?  Yeppers!  All the time.  I am asked a question verbally and I respond most times with “k” if the answer is in the affirmative.  Is it a lack of vocabulary on my part?  No, because when I choose to do so, I can use large words (50 cent words) at will.  But when in friendly conversation?  Lazy.  Lazy.  Lazy!  Can I grab that door to keep it from slamming into my buddy?  K.

Do I think I need to shut this laptop down now for the night and get some sleep after dragging my reader through another whimsical adventure of my making?  k.

Good night, k?

J = just

There is more than one way to say the word Just.  We hear a lot of people use the word to say that we need to be just in our actions towards others, toward moral issues, all sorts of current events.  But the one use of the word that always tends to amuse me is when people use it as an explanation or excuse.  Kids seem to be able to use it quite adeptly from a very young age.  Example—

Adult to child:  “Why did you smear mud all over your baby sister?”

Child: “ I just wanted to wipe my hands off and there she was.”

Adult to child:  “Why did you put my hair dryer in the toilet along with all the brushes and combs?”

Child:  “Because if kids in China are hungry, I just figured they needed a hair dryer and brushes and combs, too, and I’m not supposed to dig holes in the back yard to get it to them.”

Adult to child:  “Why did you hit your brother in the nose?”

Child:  “I didn’t.  I just put my fist out and he ran into it.”

I know you have numerous other examples you could offer from experience — both yours or others.  They “just” crop up like little weeds in your otherwise ideal life, right?  And we laugh, trying not to laugh in front of the young offender, and then try to undo the faulty logic.  Then we turn right around and do it ourselves on an “adult” level.

Boss to employee:  “Why did you write a 30 page proposal when a one page synopsis would have sufficed?”

Employee: “I just wanted you to be aware of every detail…”

One spouse to another: “Why did you buy such an expensive gift when you know we don’t have the money to?”

Other spouse: “I just wanted us to make a real impression, ya know?”

Adult to adult: “Why, WHY did you tell that dumb, stupid joke to___?”

Adult in response: “I just  thought it was funny at the time?”

     “AAAARGH!”

We’ve all been there, all done it, and if you haven't yet, you will.  “Just.”    “I just thought…”    “I just meant…”    “I just tried…”     But the real, honest truth killer?  “I JUST ASSUMED…”   UH-OH!  DOUBLE WHAMMY!

Yep, we are born with the ability to use “just” to cover, hide, excuse, and try to get us out of tight situations.  I find it hilarious.  Having raised kids, I really thought I had a great list of “justs.”  But I realized there are an infinite number of justs when I taught students that weren’t happy with their grades, homework load, etc.  That’s a whole ‘nother blog!  (chuckle chuckle)  

The reason for writing this one, now?  I just thought it might amuse you.  Besides, I have to admit—I just did it for fun!

I = Images

What do you see when you close your eyes?  First, I see brilliant colors that seem trapped beneath my closed eyelids.  Then, if I let my mind take over, I can see what I want, or sometimes don’t want.  But what I see are images—pictures without words.  Oh, what emotions those images evoke!

Media and marketing know the power of images.  If you start to notice what Images you are being exposed to, you begin to realize the power behind them.  We should think about the emotional responses we have to certain images.  Here I will share some of the images that I see that still elicit vivid responses no matter how many times I see them.

Most recently, I see the image of the young girl with the shaved head, tears rolling down her face, eyes haunted, as she stands behind a podium in total silence—mourning the loss of friends murdered by an assassin at her school.  In looking at her, my heart aches for her, for her pain, her frustration and yes, anger, that the murderer could cause such devastation to so many lives in so short a time because he was able to use a weapon of war on peaceful people.  I don’t need to read her words, the image of her is imprinted on my mind with great emotion.

I scroll through the internet social media and I see an animal slaughtered or cruelly tortured and my heart breaks.  I rail against the injustice done to one who cannot defend itself and was so hatefully abused for simply existing.  The image is one I cannot shake from my mind and I cry tears of sheer pain as I look into eyes of the animal who doesn’t understand why and is ever so afraid and beaten down.

I see a child sitting in rubble of what was once her home.  She is alone, scared, hungry, and imprinted on my mind as I fear for her and the horrors of wars that seem to never end for her.  Again, I cry from the depths of my soul for her.  But I cannot block the image of her, squatting in the rubble, from my mind.

These images remain in my mind and tear into my heart.  And the media and marketers know this.  If giving money will help, I give.  It doesn’t take away the images but it motivates me to act—however I can—to try to change the images of horror I see.  And keep seeing over and over.

But there are good images, also.  I see a friend’s genuine smile of pleasure as they relate a tale of good fortune, or love, or just the joy of being alive.  When I feel down, I think of the smile, and the beautiful person behind it.  Or their face in laughter—ah what a wonderful image!  I feel goodness and love emanating from the image of them laughing so freely!

Images are so important.  They color our day, our work, our play, our lives.  If I look at laughing children, my face will smile whether I bid it to do so or not.  My heart lifts.  If I sit at a concert and see/watch people playing instruments that are otherwise lifeless and the rapture on their faces as the instrument sings for them, under their touch, my heart soars and they and the instrument they play become alive and make my heart rise with the notes.  An image of a person seated at a piano, a drummer beating the drums with surety and love, yes love, lift me.  I can feel their passion for the music!

I can see specific images from movies I love to watch and cry, swoon, laugh, or shrink in fear.  I remember seeing an old movie with Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers dancing and the image still causes me to take a deep breath and very nearly hold it as I am amazed at their grace, their smoothness, the beauty of them dancing across a stage or floor.

Images.  Sources of pain.  Sources of light and hope.  I found that when I am terrified, I can seek an image of the ocean and it helps me become grounded again.  From the silent lapping of the waves creeping toward my feet on the sand to the vastness of it as I look toward the horizon.  From the marks left on rocks by high tide, to the waves bashing against rocks and pylons, spraying foam and water everywhere with great, fantastic force.  Others will recreate images of forests and sheltering trees to calm their spirits and become grounded.  Or maybe the vastness of the desert.  But the image they see is the one they need.

Our images can change, but I don’t believe any are ever erased or completely wiped out.  Images of love, horror, safety, terror—they are there to present themselves as needed.  Some will come as reminders and warnings.  Some will come to motivate us, inspire us to act.  Some will fill an empty grieving place in our hearts.

Images without words fill, complete, inspire, comfort us.  Some images should always be before us so we can try to change the future, correct the past, build and thrive.  Images have as much power as we give them.  Reflect on your images.  Use them.  More, though, be aware of which ones you most often notice, why, and what you think of them. 

Sweet dreams.