Finding inspiration in the difficult and mundane

It is a gray day, but nevertheless, she took a walk in an old familiar place. Not in the beauty of the town she loves to call home; but in gray dirt and shale, the scent of mud flats and sodden tumbleweeds; the endless racket of commerce without artistry, vitriol without understanding.

This is not her home, but this is the place she grew up, graduated high school, was raised and peered, and taught by people who didn’t really understand who she was meant to be – only who they thought she should be. She spent far too many years here-not only in growing up but in boomeranging anytime life or relationships treated her meanly. Some would say this is her hometown. It has been a refuge of sorts; but a very prickly refuge.

She visits. Because people she knows and loves live here. And because people she knows have died here. But today is not a day for her to die, because this is not the place she would choose to be when she dies. She wants to die in a beautiful place. And because she wants to be alive while she yet lives, she showered and ate breakfast and took a walk. She walked along roads now paved that used to be rural wandering paths. She knows these canal banks and bicycle jumps and crisscross roads. This is not paradise for her. But walking or hiking is always a good choice to iron out the kinks of one’s emotions and thinking. By and by the forward strides pumped the blood and oxygen to her heart and brain and she began to breath deep, to be thankful for the many miles she logged on these very roads and paths. Wow, so much water under the bridge for being a desert region. Here is the road she walked almost daily while recovering from marriage number one. But back then it was only a dirt path. There is the 90s brick condo she coveted for her own independent living space when she re-lived here one time while trying to get back on her feet. But there, across the road, that’s the brick house that became the home of the character Carolyn Flannery in the book “The Right Woman for the Job.”

Did she really write a book? Yes, she did. She said she was retreating here to write a book, and she did what she said she would do. And now, she doesn’t live here anymore. But she can be grateful, so grateful for the inspiration. And gratitude is the gateway to feeling good, and feeling good leads to effervescing glimmers of happiness. And glimmers, glimmers soon make it a beautiful place.

Keep the good. The good is as much a part of your past as the difficult. Keep the gratitude. And soon, anyplace can be a beautiful place.

Merry Christmas Morn

Merry Christmas Morn! I slept in until 6:30 this morning because I didn’t have to be anywhere. When I did rise, I left the lights off and watched the dawn as it came on. How often does that happen? Not often enough for this lover of solitude. During the night, between deep and dreamful sleep, I experienced feelings of gratitude and thanksgiving. My life is good. Whether I am alone or with family, friends, or acquaintances; my life is good. Before tucking into bed last night, I spent a couple hours reading a new book, lately received as a Christmas gift. What a treat. A new book. Free time to read. Time for a walk or a hike. A larder stocked with traditional Christmas treats, made from generations old recipes – the culinary gift of a roommate exploring upcycling, recycling, vintage crafting and traditional homemaking and kitchen arts. Before she left to spend Christmas Day with her other next of kin, she asked, “Now how many of these are you going to limit yourself to in the next two days? Because, I will leave that many and take all the rest with me.” How can you go wrong with a plan like that? I am the grateful recipient of two divinities per day and two Christmas cookies per day. Merry Christmas! May you absolutely luxuriate in gratitude and love and peace and joy!

If you missed it before, my Christmas Card to you is here on Youtube. Glimmers of Gratitude