Tag Archives: joy

Shoot The Morning Finger

What would cause you, young, late-20-something year old male, to “shoot me the finger” so aggressively early yesterday morning?

It was a sunny and not yet oppressively hot day.  I was standing with my bike in the bike path, patiently waiting for all the cars to pass the cross road.  I was stationed well back from the road so it was clear I wasn’t a threat to cars. I wasn’t going to somehow lurch out into the road causing you to brake or dodge me and my little bike.

I don’t even look like a cyclist.  I don’t have the spandex.  None of my clothes match.  My helmet isn’t event same color as my fifteen year old bike.  I don’t look like an athlete.  How could I be a challenge of any sort?

There you drove though.  You and your passenger seat buddy.  He was looking straight forward and it was his huge grin that even made me look at your car.  It was then that I saw you leaning over from the driver’s seat to shoot me the finger through the open window.

If you wanted to offend me you didn’t.  Your action was irrelevant to me.  I just wondered what is in you that would cause you to do such a thing.

The others cars cleared the road and I continued on the bike path. The little brown rabbit off on the side chewing his morning grass made me smile.

Ok Then, Just Write

I remember being scared to say out loud, “I want to be a writer.”

That’s not entirely true. I declared to my mother when I was 11 that I wanted to be a journalist for National Geographic Magazine. Her immediate response was,”Well then you’ll always be lonely.” I guess back then the thinking was still that restrictive for girls; maybe it still is. That deflating comment came from a very progressive mother, and it stung for decades.

It took me until age 40, yes 40, before I could declare to my husband and two closest, lifelong best friends that “I want to be a writer.” Seventeen years later, I’m still primarily writing in my journal. I tweet for my public professional persona. I submitted one short story once to one publication. They printed it, paid me, and the editor wrote me a note thanking me for sharing such a touching story.

I blog, sometimes.

More and more though I hear the deep voice of myself wonder”Why?” Why do I fight what my soul wants?

At this stage in life it doesn’t even matter if people like my writing. It’s more about my need to do what I was put here to do.

Write. Just write.

 

This Day, A Collision of Joy

This day, a collision of joy
This day of birthdays and religious contemplation
This day of sunshine and happy smiles
This day I was touched when my teenage son came to take an afternoon nap in the sun with the cats and me as we slept curled up on blankets on the floor
This day I rode my bike which always feels like freedom to me, memories of my childhood when two wheels let me go farther away from my home on a safe explore and return before dark
This day I said several prayers several times for the sherpas on Everest, the teenagers submerged on the ferry and the passengers on the still missing Malaysian plane
This day I live knowing little things can change the world and we can all do them: no plastic bottles, no plastic bags, walk, eat less meat, be kind to all living beings…and all is living
This day I remember joy is a choice