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Posts Tagged ‘achievement’

However …

Always a source of an uplifting message, always a breath of cooler air to coat my lungs, and always impossibly perky and optimistic despite the whimsical and annoying gravel that gets back-hoed in front of her path, there is one blog (among many, many others which I just haven’t stumbled across) that even when I’m not publishing for long periods of time, I visit even for just a moment.

By my going to her blog, I can only guess that a part of me still wants to believe, a part of me wants to see a positive example of someone who has been touched by divinity. On the other hand, it could also show the power of positive thinking – an ability to put ones self smack dab in the middle of the path where luck has no other alternative but to collide forcefully with you. And that’s what I’m more leaning towards.

A great message no matter which possibility you choose to interpret it as.

Unyielding in spirituality, always with a pronounced smile permeating across the prose and with accompanying pictures that are consistently happy without the baseless sweet and tacky syrup, I admit that I love the site.

Make a minute to get over to Jaclyn Rae’s Blog.

Oh, and Blessed be the Humbled.

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Feeling Lucky?

sea of lilacs

During my quick gasp back into the blog world last week, I briefly mentioned my struggle with the whole faith vs. luck conundrum. Seems I’ve lost faith but believe in luck.

I mean, keep praying for what? That circumstances will change? That a hole in the knees from excessive kneeling will eventually produce desired results? And if and when something does change, no matter how small, that this was all due to prostrating myself? I should see this as proof of divine intervention?

Should I interpret the overwhelmingly pure and fragrant waft of lilac bushes as a ‘sign’ that things will be better? Or that it was just plain ol’ luck that on a day that I needed to uplifted that I happened to pass by that small forest of lilacs and smiled out of control just because the scent permeated my senses?

I’ve had enough of waiting for miracles that never happen. I’ve taken the belief that nothing is received through an unseen force, but instead, anything received is taken by force. By that I mean anything that I receive is as a result of my getting to it.

BigLittleWolf mentioned in a response comment to my last post:

That said, we can exercise the courage to pull back when we need to, and the courage to put ourselves “out there” as well. One helps us heal; the other increases the statistical probability of being a recipient of a little good luck. Or maybe even, a lot.

I’m more believing that putting myself out there  increases my chance at ‘luck’.

God knows that praying hasn’t helped.

 

The Blotted Blemish

Sometimes when the crash is too intense, one has the option of simply losing themselves. That’s what I chose to do. After my dream was over, it was easier for me to lose track of time, to ignore the event and place one foot in front of the other in some lackadaisical semblance of, and attempt at ‘this too shall pass’.

School is a fantastic way to simply plow through days and nights. Children laughing (or fighting) helped to grease the passage of time, and just plain old ignoring it saw the night/day axis blur for a few months. Determination to rebuild new dreams – if only for spite, bolstered defenses. The biggest casualty lost was my faith. I thought “is it faith or luck’? Turns out I now believe more in luck.

Whatever the method I chose day-to-day, brings me back here once again.

My Big 5? I am a workhorse where I am right now. School is where my heart is and I’ve an ‘A’ average and am trying, despite severe money woes, to stay pat. Dating … not so well. Faith has been released to the wind. Accomplishments come steadily, but so slowly.

Time has moved and taken me with it. Still here. Here again, moving up.

The sun has risen again.

One Unit of New

A month of crunch at school, a new zeroed-in work schedule, a mild upheaval, a major trounce, new thoughts, refreshed views … that’s all it took to reintroduce me back into the world of blog.

I have a lot of back-reading to do on your blogs and I have swirling piles of ideas for my own. But for today, I need to feel the swing of a bat hitting dead center on a baseball and feel the sharp snap as it’s thrown back to me by my kids. Calzones for lunch and tilapia over rice tonight will bring some wholesome goodness and tang back into my mouth.

It lives and it is moving. And it is seizing the day!

The Amount Of Time – Turned

It’s mainly about grasping the gift.

Before I even turn the knob and open the door inward, before I pull the key out of the lock I have a smile that tightens my face. Stepping in I take note of the pugnent apple and cinnamon candle scent that remains still alive, drifting lazily throughout the apartment. She had brought it over with a red bow tied around its girth and placed it center on the table and lit it right away. Tonight there was a note leaning against it, a folded sheet of expensive parchment that when spread open announced “This weekend can’t come soon enough”.

The warm, illuminating lamp light revealed the scores of changes, many of them subtle, that she has made since we’ve been dating. Irregularly spaced framed photographs have been replaced or rehung in new locations in order to mix tastefully along with new artful prints, and a newly installed corner shelf holds an African Violet that she had saved, newly budded with red points and a tender, new ivy plant, its vines full and cascading. Bright and boldly ornate contemporary throw pillows have been strategically placed on the sofa, love seat and chair giving them a new look and a quick glance make them appear not my own.

The windows are graced with thin, white horizontal poles, newly installed also, upon which hang differing lengths of shepards canes that hold plants of all colors – some I had never seen before, a new rug centered and fixed attention to the living room with its red and light brown pattern and a green wire room divider had been chosen for the wide space of white, near the door, and had a leaf pattern that now hold additional hanging pictures, in framed lockets, of my children.

It had taken some getting used to, the orderly yet comfortable ambiance that had taken hold here. The new and inexpensive backsplash gazing from the stove, the countertop that was converted from a catch-all to a colorful and functional area of culinary inspiration, the bed was given additional height by the twelve inch posts put under each of its four corners, the shiny and satiny feel of six hundred thread sheets made me feel more comfortable with the fact that they were a shade of deep, heart red, and the wide-eyed astonishment that I first had as she laced and looped the multiple tails of a vividly adorned kite (of all things imaginable) between drop-ceiling tiles, was replaced with excitement and contentment at being led out of my stulted knowledge of decor as she tied tiny strings to the body, which let it hang and float just inches from their anchor.

The note, still held in hand, had a post script. It said “Turn on the TV and play the video”. I noticed that the disk player was open and a disk placed into it was labeled in black marker “Play Me”. I sat on the couch, the middle cushion, the one with the most comforting give to my frame, and with the remote control, pressed ‘Play’. She had turned the recorder to herself and I could tell from what she wore that it was recorded the night before. I could hear water sizzling in the background and knew that it was recorded while I was in the shower. She was giggling as she spoke.

“I want to tell you that I am so happy that we’ve met. I can’t tell you how long it’s been since I’ve laughed so hard and for that alone, I thank you. I find myself thinking about you all the time now – at work and at home. I guess that I simply want to tell you how much you mean to me and that I’m glad that we have each other. And I’m looking forward to seeing you this weekend. Bye!”

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OK, Half-Full

Among the many lessons I continually repeat to my children is the one of the glass being half-full.

Dad (after sadly looking at the time): I only have forty-five minutes left with you.

Son (smirking): Dad, it’s not half-empty! Look at it as you have forty-five more minutes with us!

Dad (stunned): ”                                  ”

Sure, I’m lonely as could be right now while writing this, doing nothing, but I received an additional forty-five minutes with my kids today.

And that’s made all the difference.

16 and a Volcano

The birthday boy, and his siblings, have just left and I watched as the rear red tail lights paced out of my view.

It truly was a great weekend. I told my now sixteen year old (!?!?) boy that it was his weekend and he could choose the itenerary for any activity, any show, any meal and basically, whatever he chose. I was the grantor of his wishes.

Two steaks marinated with either a barbecue or ginger sauce, scrambled egg breakfast muffins, a Harry Potter movie, killing Nazi zombies on Xbox, giving him time alone in the apartment while I towed his brother and sister to the mall to buy birthday presents from them, letting him have sips of my beer, allowing him to choose a t-shirt emblazoned with his favorite band’s logo from their official website, taking almost a hundred photos, a very expensive silver neck chain (something sentimental that will last I’m hoping), and ending it with a made from scratch red velvet cake with sixteen blazing and bobbing candles accompanied by a rousing version of ‘Happy Birthday’ while the camera rolled.

I love that boy, that broaching early manhood child of mine. That kid that’s now two inches over his tall father. That kid that possesses a killer sideways smile who still is not into girls yet. Thankfully.

It was also the weekend of a Krakatoa realization. Concerning his mother. My ex. I’ve been thinking …

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