Ah, words

I stumbled across this poem/rambling thing I wrote back in 2009 as a challenge to one of Jason's posts.  He had a long list of words and asked people to comment with their own bit of whimsy based off of the things he had listed... the only rule was that you couldn't use a word if someone else had already chosen it.

Its silly, but I still like what I wrote, so I thought I would include it here, seeing as how it uses one of the words I've drawn already (muffled).  The words in all caps are ones from his list....  hope you enjoy.  You can find the original challenge here


I stood PARALYSED in the AUTUMN FOREST as a BUTTERFLY CRISS CROSSED my path. His WILD SHIMMERING wings and WILLOWY smile were nothing compared to the BREATHTAKING DANCE he performed in the air before me. A MUSICAL rustling of leaves overhead played in accompanyment, and my eyes SHINING BRIGHTLY drank in his ASTONISHING beauty BELOW AND BENEATH the SHADOWY evening sky. I gazed for what seemed ages until a puff of wind sent him drifting off INTO THE DARKNESS onto paths unknown. The song grew MUFFLED in my ears, leaving me in VAST silence, WONDERING if I would ever find such MAGIC again.

We Enter At The Close

The hills have been plowed under;
 rich, chocolate soil thick as velvet exposed to the warmth of the sun.
I climb down and wrap myself in its deep comfort.

I drink the dew;
the taste of spiderwebs and old leaves crisp on my tongue,
like an aged cider of the fall's dwindling days.

Content, I snuggle beneath the loamy layers
 and listen for the deep thump thump thump of nature's heartbeat,
slowing for its season of rest.

Together we await our rebirth,
watching as fireflies dance their last amongst the stars;
ancient mariners adrift in the sea of approaching twilight

With the spring you will find us,
green, growing, stretching towards the heavens
with nothing but hope and possibilities before us.

image courtesy of lovethispic.com

Multiple Definitions - Muffled

I love the English language and its ability to have completely different interpretations of the exact same word;  interpretations that I've decided could use a little illustrating.  

Definition 1: to wrap or pad in order to deaden sound

Definition 2: to cover for protection or secrecy

Definition 3: to wrap for warmth

I don't know about you, but this morning I am all for definition #3! 

Serious thanks to my husband, Richard, who patiently posed for these this morning out in the chilly autumnal air!  Honey, I think you've earned that warm cup of cocoa...  

Hurricane

I lie there gazing into a sky so blue its blinding
The waves roll gently, lulling, as if to rock me to sleep
I am weary and find myself grateful for this moment of peace

I look to the horizon and see the darkness that is marching towards me
I am in the eye of the storm, and I know that I soon must fight again or drown
I cannot withdraw... so I will persevere

The Short But Sweet Reign of Daisy Marsden

Daisy was a destined to be Queen.... she knew that.  Knew it in every fiber of her being.  After all, she had already been one of the local Princess for three years running, and now, with the reigning Queen Dinty Cartwright finally aged out, it was her time to shine.

Standing in front of the full-length mirror (the 6' mirror loomed over her but that was to be expected with a 5-year old), she brushed her hands softly down the front of her blue silk dress, and smiled at what she saw.  Golden hair in perfect curls tumbled onto her shoulders, and her eyelashes were the longest of any girl in the running this year.  Her dress had layers of underskirts that made her dress poof out just so, and the skirt had sparkles in a swirling design that made it practically shimmer in the sunlight.  There was a string of pearls around her neck, and even a stone that twinkled like pink and blue fire on one little finger.

Nodding to her reflection in approval, she turned from her reflection, listening for the sweet hiss of her dress brushing against the underskirts.

Heaven.

Walking carefully down the hall to the kitchen, she paused, took a breath and then calmly walked in.

Her father, sitting at the front table looked up and smiled as she entered the room.  "Ah, I am fortunate to be visited by her Grace, our future Queen", he laughed.  Leaning over, he kissed her tenderly on the cheek; he had not taken the time to shave yet, and it tickled.  Daisy giggled, and then stood back, holding her skirts wide.

"How do I look Papa?" she asked, and slowly spun in a circle in order to make her skirts flare even wider.

Her father's smile didn't fade, but he took in the girl and, once again, he wished her could do more for her. Her little dress, once someone's Cinderella costume, had been carefully drawn on with glitter glue, but he could see smears where it hadn't fully dried before it had been moved.  He noted the cheap string of imitation pearls, and the ring... he had no idea where Daisy had found it, but it appeared to be no more than a cheap piece of costume jewelry.

Daisy's usually straight hair had been worked over with a curling iron by her older sister, but nature was already making those curls droop and, no doubt, by the time they arrived at the competition, they would be straight again.  Her excitement, however, could not be contained, and it only heightened the sparkle in her eyes.

"Let me go get cleaned up", he chuckled.  "A vision such as you can hardly be seen with me all scruffy.  What will people think?"

Daisy giggled again, allowed herself one more spin, and then carefully sat down, brushing her skirts with pudgy fingers.

Dave's girls were the two best things he had going for him, and there was nothing he wouldn't do for either of them... or at least try to.  While there may not have been enough money for frivolities, at least the mortgage was paid on time and there was always food on the table.  Still, he mused, as he walked to the bathroom and pulled out his razor, it would be nice to have a little extra for things like pretty dresses.  Thankfully his girls seemed to have a good take on what was important, and didn't seem to notice if they were lacking some of the things other kids took for granted.

He knew Daisy hoped to be crowned Queen this year, and while she had a good chance, seeing as how there were only a couple of girls who actually cared to enter this small-town contest, he knew that there was also every chance that someone else would get that coveted crown.

In short time they were all ready.  Missy, as usual, had her nose in a book, and she graciously offered her little sister the chance to ride shotgun in the beat-up truck.  Daisy paused for a moment and then declined; as it was, with the air conditioner working only sporadically, sitting in the middle offered the best protection for her curls.  Missy smiled in amusement... a smile so like her mother's that Dave found himself once again being so grateful for these two little miracles that held him together.  He reached out, lifted Daisy gently to keep from wrinkling her skirts, and set her on the bench seat.  Missy, nearly 8, was able to hop in on her own, not even lifting her eyes from the story that she was reading.

It was a short drive to the park where the factory's annual summer picnic was being held.  In no time at all Daisy found herself on stage with four other little girls, all dressed in their royal best.  Tiny Maddie Comstock, only four, was tottering around in what appeared to be her older sister's high heels in order to appear as tall as the older girls, and she was doing a pretty good job of it; even if she couldn't lift her feet up to walk, but rather slid her way across the pavement like she was roller skating.  Her older sister followed along, grimacing at every scrape her shoes made on the asphalt, until, finally, she scooped her sister up with one arm, snagged the shoes with the other hand and carried her sister the rest of the way.  Apparently, some sacrifices were just not to be made when it came to footwear.

Things were about to get underway when a girl Daisy had never seen before quietly made her way to the stage.  Appearing to be her age, this little girl seemed to be nervous about being in front of the crowd, and was determinedly keeping her eyes on the ground before her.  Daisy couldn't see her face at all, but it was obvious this girl was new as no one in the area had flaming red curls.  In fact, Daisy could hardly take her eyes off the girl and failed to notice the concern now registering on the judges faces.  As the girl came to a hesitant stop next to her, Daisy put on an even bigger smile and whispered, "Hi, I'm Daisy."

The girl looked up, timidity momentarily forgotten as her blue eyes met Daisy's brown ones.  A smile crossed her face as she whispered back, "I'm Meredith".  With that, Meredith's gaze went to the crowds and she quickly put her head down again.  Daisy's heart went out to the girl and, impulsively she reached out a hand and squeezed Meredith's hand.  Meredith, squeezing back, did not look up, but she did not let go either.

It seemed to only take a few minutes for the judges to come to a determination, and then Mr Schultz, the factory owner, was calling Dinty to the stage.  The former Queen marched forward, her cheap plastic crown shimmering like burnished gold in the sunlight, and the paste gems flashed shades of red, green and sapphire blue as Dinty turned to the girls clustered on stage and wished them luck.  Daisy felt herself coveting that glorious crown, forgetting everything, including her new friend in the moment.  It will be mine, it will be mine, she repeated to herself, over and over.

Suddenly Meredith was pushing her forward. "They called your name", she whispered, and Daisy found herself stumbling forward so that Dinty could place a crown on her head.

A Queen's crown.

Daisy's hand reached up to touch that coveted crown, hardly believing it was now on her head, as the assembled parents applauded.  Turning to smile at Meredith, Daisy was dismayed to see that all of her friends wore the smaller, silver princess crowns.... all except for Meredith.  The girl was looking straight at Daisy, applauding her new-found friend, but apparently there had not been enough crowns to go around.  Daisy had not known that could happen.  The few years she herself had participated every girl had received a crown.

Without a pause she walked straight over to Meredith, plucked her crown from her head and whispered, "this belongs to you", and rested it on Meredith's head.

Meredith looked surprised, and tentatively reached up as if to be sure that the crown was really there.  "But they gave it to you", she whispered.

"And now I give it to you", was Daisy's simple reply.  With that she clasped Meredith's hand in hers and pulled the girl to the front of the stage.  Dinty hesitated a moment, glancing at the judges for direction before walking up and offering Daisy her own crown, but Daisy shook her head.  Dinty shrugged, not really understanding, but she quietly walked back to her spot on the stage, happy that she didn't have to surrender her own crown after all.

Daisy grinned as Meredith impulsively threw her arms around her and hugged her tight. So she didn't have a crown, and so what if she wasn't Queen this year; she knew she had done the right thing for Meredith. The girl was now smiling at the crowd, shyness forgotten.

 Mr Schultz looked astounded, but recovered quickly enough and announced to everyone attending, "I present to you this year's Schultz Manufactoring Pre-School Royalty."  Turning, he smiled at Daisy and then added, "Daisy Marsden you stay up here as well.  You are just as much a part of this royalty as anyone else."

With that he stepped back and the girls all came forward to the edge of the stage, each waving back to the audience.  Five crowns, but six little arms waving under the bright July sun.

My Homeland

The idea that I have been pondering for some time now is "My Homeland".

Homeland.... an idea that could embrace a myriad of things.

Is it my country, or is that too grand of a scale?  Is it the state that I live in, or the city?  Is it where I was born, or where I currently live?  Can it change over the years, or does it remain unchanging with the passing of time?  Where do I find it?  Does it somehow lodge itself inside of me and become a part of my being?

Over a decade ago I came across a phrase that I loved, and painted on a wooden board which has hung in every home I have had since.

"Home is where your story begins" 

I still believe that, but, perhaps if I were to paint this signpost again, I would expand on it.  Perhaps it should read, "Home is where your story begins and it guides you chapter by chapter in the epic that is your life".  Its a bit wordy, but that doesn't make it any less true.

For many, homeland is what you use to identify yourself, as in "I'm an American".  We sometimes feel the need to narrow that down, where my husband, after identifying himself as a Texan, would elaborate "I'm from San Antonio".  There is a certain pride and emotion in the places and things we identify ourselves with.  We are not just the place that we are from, but who and what we associate ourselves with.  For me, "I am a Mormon" is an important part of my identity.  

My personal homeland is a complex thing, added to over the years, layer upon layer, like some pearl forming deep within the core of my being; an integral part of me that has helped me develop into the person that I am.  It is the thing within that defines me, a reserve within me that I can draw upon when I find myself on rocky shoals and in need of solid ground.  

My core, built from my experiences consists not only of places, but of things, memories, people... all of which have influenced me for good or ill in my life.  Not all of the experiences are pleasant, but all have, in some way, brought me strength or peace.  The darker sides of that core are still there.... a childhood of abusive words and bullying left me for a long time struggling to feel a positive self worth.  A former destructive marriage partner at one point had me struggling with issues of trust.  While these experiences are part of me, and always will be, that pearl is continually building up.  Like the natural pearl, some of these experiences will cause bulging on one side or another, but the layers built since those experiences are ones that have proven time and again that I have an inner strength and resiliency.  I may not have wanted some of those memories and experiences, but I have changed them to where they now help, rather than hinder me.

So who am I?  What things do I identify as my own personal "Homeland"?

Well, silly as it may sound, I am part of a global family, one who shares the lands and waters of this marvelous blue ball we call Earth.  I am an American, and am proud of the fact that my forebears worked to come to this land where I have so many freedoms and opportunities available to me.

I was born in California, but I am, in my heart, a Washingtonian as I was raised in its mountains and forests, and nestled amongst its rolling hills of wheat, barley and alfalfa.  My heart and soul still thrills at seeing the tall grasses waving in the breeze like some vast, rolling green inland sea.  I find peace in the sound of the wind as it roars through the trees, giving them voice to call out to their brothers in century-slow voices.  I love experiencing things in nature that others do not seem to notice.

As such, I consider myself a country girl, and one of simple pleasures.  As I said before, I am a Mormon and feel blessed to count myself among such a wonderful congregation of people.  

I am a wife, and while I have not been blessed with children of my own, that has not stopped me from being a mothering presence to those in need of it.  I am a part of my family here, and I love them dearly.  Home is never felt stronger for me than when I am near my loved ones and when we are together.

I am a friend and confidant.  

There are so many things tied up into what I consider my own personal definition of home that there is no way to fully explain it to you, as home is something that has to be felt in the heart.  And, sadly, most of us are judged on our outward appearance as the things of the heart just cannot be fully expressed in words.  Its taken a long time for me to find peace with that idea... that there are just some things that people are unable to know.

As a child, when I was bullied it was hard to think good about myself, because I did not have that reserve developed.  I would hide myself away to cry and wonder what it was about me that made me so different that it would subject me to ridicule.  It couldn't have been just my weight, because some of the kids who teased me were overweight themselves, or had other such defects that should have made them the subject of teases and taunting.  I took it to mean that there was something lacking in me... and for years I allowed that to define me.  I still found my simple pleasures, but I told myself that they were silly little imaginings and that I should let such childish things go... that I had to grow up.

I am glad that I never really got around to taking my own advice, because my imagination is a strong part of who I am.  It is what forms me into the creative person that I am today.  It has also shown me compassion towards others... even those that are not kind to me, and respect for others, even when they are different from me.

Most importantly, I am me.  Just me.... simple sometimes, and complex others. I am the culmination of my experiences and thoughts, and I can choose what I will allow myself to keep bright and shiny on the surface for any to see or what to allow to sink to the depths, to be let go of and be replaced with things more suitable to my nature and what I want to be.  

I am home, and I carry it within me, wherever I roam in life.  All this and more encapsulated within and yet flowing throughout my core; freely shared with those around me.  Home is what you make of it... it is the things that you allow to define yourself and your relationship to the world that surrounds you.  It is an ever-growing and ever-expanding place within your heart that you never need let go of, and yet is infinite enough to share time and time again.

Home is love.

   

Hummingbird

Whisper soft come the words
"I am here... I am safe"
Not spoken, surely
But there nonetheless
Speaking peace to my mind.


Gentle the touch that follows
"I will be with you always"
Not a physical moment
But I feel it throughout my being
Speaking peace to my soul.


Sweet moments that come
In times of sorrow or doubt
The reassurance
That my loved ones are still there
Waiting for the day we are reunited again


Grandparents, friends, brothers....
All of these I have lost in life
Not gone from me
But just around the bend


...writing themselves on my heart with the touch of hummingbird wings.