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You know that old saying, the one that goes something like, be careful for what you wish, you might just receive it or some such thing.  I have never been a big fan of that particular saying.  As life seems to enjoy a good laugh or two, at my expense (or so it seems), this week I have heard myself iterating this phrase and then I suppose reiterating the same saying.  Because I did make a wish and I am, indeed, receiving said wish.

In fact, I did more than send a wish into the Universe.  I crafted an invitation.  An invitation to a celebration, a party if you will in honor of myself.  Yes.  You read that correctly.  I, as in me, myself and I.  A celebration of MY LIFE to coincide with one of my favorita days of the year Summer Solstice (the other favorita days of the year, Winter Solstice).  I crafted this invitation and then sent it out into the Universe to invitees both local and to those who live in what we fondly refer to as the Lower 48, even though there are 49 other states in the Union.  Some folks may be wondering what are we even considering here?  What’s the big deal?  Where’s the problem?  What is this post even about?  Well, read further dear blogging friends and I will further bare my fragile vulnerable underbelly of neurosis.

In sending this invitation, I was telling myself Number One, that I am valuable enough and could possibly be important enough to someone(s)’ that they would/will take time out of their lives to journey North to celebrate my life.  For those invitees from Outside there would/will be the travel expense, which is no small ‘taters.  The moment I hit the send button on my email invitation the anxiety that had already built to about a 4 on a 1-10 scale, hit about an 8.  That old and tired but loud whiny voice of who do you think you are little Missy and you are a selfish self-centered little girl aren’t you today blah blah blah took over.  Thankfully, before this part of me could overtake me and tackle me into the mud, I began receiving responses to my invitation within a half hour of its flight.

Thus, this week has been a life lesson of opening my heart again and again to the love that is there for me to receive.  Although overwhelming, I remind myself that I am a growed up woman, as my adoptive mother used to say about herself.  And a little or even a lot of overwhelm over receiving a lot of love from family and friends is some thing a growed up woman can handle on any given day.

My heart is full.

My heart is full and expanding.

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already here.  the day that was yesterday that was meant to be the other day so that I could write a post on my blog today two days ago.  but it, the day, or more aptly put, the days already have passed.  so quickly.  they are gone.  history.

And so it is

that I am here in this moment writing that I am still here in the blogosphere.  That my blog is always in my heart and never far from my conscious thoughts.  Even when those thoughts and ideas and emotions and happenings and daily minutia and big deals and little ordeals don’t make it onto the screen ~ I am still here.

And so it is

that autumn has returned to the Land of Already Freezing Ground North Land.  The past few days have gifted us with glorious sun.  Golden sun rays that followed weeks of record rain fall, and record windstorms and flooding.

And so it is

that the sun is loved and beloved and cherished

by me.

Big news ~ that little diddy.

And so it is

that I am pleased to write some words on this first day of October.  to write some words on any day actually.  just glad.

To the edge of the ocean, that is.  Yes.  I am fleeing to the ocean’s edge seeking solace, seashells, wind and waves.  Rainy forecast be damned, I am still heading out so I can arrive there, where the ocean meets the rocky shore. 

Fingers crossed that my V (as in my Bastard Buddy Vertigo) will allow me a grace period for the 4+ hour drive.  I typically relish driving the many miles as it is a beautiful drive, rain or shine, and this road and I are very well acquainted.  We know each other’s twists and turns, pot holes and all.  So please Universe above and within, please keep the green light lit and a Pink Bubble of safety around yours truly and Buster Blue (aka my trusty car companion) as we escape this city life. 

Because it is true.  The edge is where the good stuff often hangs out.  An ever tempting adventure of discovery.  So to the edge it is.

We are well on our way to 15 hours of daylight per day.  Make that, a glorious 15 hours of daylight every single day.  And the minutes keep growing, approximately 5 minutes per 24-hour cycle. 

There is not one single

solitary

complaint.

Not from me.

Nada. 

I got nothin’ here folks.  Nothin’ but praise awe and a welcome wagon, that is. 

Bring it on Miss Spring Time in the Previously Dark Region of the Planet. 

Bring it on now, baby cakes.

In order to be here, one must go there but the going there, requires no physical departure; at least for today. 

My thoughts and inner visioning have been hijacked.  A few days before now, my eyes drank in the images of temples ~ hanging cliff temples.  And ever since that first viewing when my soul leapt with recognition, my core began a slow drumming.  The beat of this internal drum, thrumming through me; my body responds with a re-awakening and yearning to return to mountain peak, where I surely have lived in some yesteryear.  Forgotten, until now. 

This drumming back to consciousness, caused my limiting thoughts and jailhouse rules and boundaries to spring into action; to speak out loud their automatic chastisement.  You cannot go, you would surely perish.  Only the fit of body and the most holy of spirits belong on that journey above the clouds.  Remember your fear of heights.  You would most certainly slip and fall, causing great disaster and inconvenience to others.  You cannot go, you would surely perish. 

So in preparation for this journey, which I must surely embark upon, the first steps are to soothe my protector’s fears and to loosen my jailer’s clawlike hold.  For my journey, you see, has most certainly already begun and I have not yet perished.

The unmistakable trumpet of Canadian geese pierced through the early morning airwaves and were received by my welcoming ears.  In the spring, these first honkings validate with assurance and confidence that winter is surely on the wane because there are new feathered sherrifs in town.  We know when the geese head south, so do our hopes of continued late summer and autumn joys.  Their departing audio conversations sound sad to those of us left behind.  Left behind to face a cold and icy future.   

But today, the Canadians are back and my heart jumped with joy for surely on their strong wings my prayers for winter’s end are answered.   

It is true. 

Prayers and wishes can, indeed, come true.

One of the wonders of modern living holds sway over me still and most likely always will.  The ability to turn on the tap and have potable water appear ~ instantly appear and then with a slight flick of the wrist make it hot or return it to an icy coldness.  Now that is life in the fast lane, baby.  And we haven’t even mentioned the luxury of the flush toilet.  Oh my!

I grew up in rural areas.  My childhood was a blend spent between the Pacific coast and the Atlantic Shoreboard.  The constant being the oceans and country living.  For most of those years we lived without plumbing or electricity.  Sometimes we had electricity and no plumbing.  My adoptive parents liked to say that they had running water, they’d just send me and my sister running to fetch it.  Yep, that was a real knee slapper, their little joke.  Explains though my life long awe of running water that does not require me walking for over a quarter of a mile or more and making like a pack mule hauling back 5-gallon bright red plastic jugs or multiple re-purposed white bleach bottles of the clear liquid. 

Although I have yet to taste a sweeter more pure cup of water than what ran in one of the springs on a homestead in a faraway place, I have to say that the trade off has proved worth the exchange over time. 

So earlier today while I was letting the hot water sluice through my hair I closed my eyes and said a little thank you to the Running Water Goddess and the Universe at large, for such a gift in my daily life.  This blessing of running water.  A blessing that millions of my species do not have access to, whose very lives revolve around the seeking and retrieving of this liquid manna. 

Life is about perspective.  At least my life today seems to be and just a little shift in my focus has helped me participate in my life in this moment.  Helped me send up a prayer of gratitude to the Running Water Goddess and loosen my hold on what was feeling a lot like the running water blues.

I do believe my region of the planet has taken its snowy place in the weather history books as the snowiest winter on record.  Fantabulous for winter enthusiasts I suppose.  But even those rosy cheeked ones must be getting just a teeny weeny tiny bit tired of the endless dumps gifts of snow. 

As for me, there’s the matter of roof leaks in my kitchen and limited vision from my windows as the snow deepens, rising up past the window casings.  There’s the growing craving for natural greenery.  There’s the daily shuffling and changing of outerwear to inside attire ~ the continual on-and-off of the boots, the hat, the scarf, the gloves and coat. 

Fatiguing of mind, body, heart and spirit for this particular Earth dweller. 

Ready for spring.  Ready for summer. 

Meanwhile, I suppose I’ll go help chisel the icy news of our snowy achievement into our frozen history books.

Stone after stone after stone followed by another and another.  Skipping.  Bouncing.  Springing off the surface of the deep blue ocean or the merrily babbling stream.  Stone after skipped stone bouncing after the next stone leaving only rings of water and a dollop of watery sound in their wake. 

Those are the daydreams of this snow-locked woman on this sun filled day in the Upper Regions of the Northern Hemisphere.  Daydreams of beaches covered with loads of smooth small to medium sized oval shaped grey and slate black stones left high and dry by the outgoing tide.  Each aching to be chosen by the best stone skipper on the planet.  Each yearning to be held, just so, between the index finger and the thumb, curled in the brief safety of the expert hand.  Each thrilling at the very memory of flying through the sun kissed air, hurtling toward the open ocean from whence they came ashore.  Each ready to do the dance.  Each vying to be the most skipped stone this side of the Pacifc. 

Daydreaming in the sun, my friend, is never over rated.

Plus 10 or 10 Plus or 10+

or

getting more grateful by the minute ~

Here in this corner of the planet where the hours of daylight have increased past 10 per 24 hour cycle, people like me are growing more ecstatic exponentially.  And the party shows no signs of abatement as summer solstice is still some months in front of us.  We are gaining 5+ minutes every single day. 

Woo Hoo! 

Hotdiggity!  Dogdiggity! 

Hallelujah and Amen. 

The growing natural light will be extended even further into the evening hours in just a little over a week when we spring forward an hour.  That is when drivers with nightblindness are freed from our dark winter prison.  Unjailed, to accept dinner invitations, run errands after work, visit with friends and family and hoot and holler while we drive, baby drive, after 3:30 PM. 

See what I mean?  There is hella’ lot to be hootin’ and hollerin’ rejoicin’  and revelin’ about up here where the returning of the light is a seasonal gift that keeps on giving for many months. 

Happy dance all around!  Go ahead, kick up your heels.  A simple yet awe inspiring gift from the Universe ~ No charge.  No fee.

November 2017
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