Thursday, September 17, 2009

Sands....



"Like sands in the hour glass, these are the days of our lives." That brought back memories to me as I was trying to think of how it went. I may even have it all wrong. It was day time tv drama in high school. All the girls watched it and most lived for it. Once the vcr was invented, they all recorded it. In some instances they would run home during lunch to watch it. I never did. My Mom watched "As the world turns."
TV dramas never really captured my interest. Except I confess, the "X-Files". At least that wasn't a daily addiction and then yet it wasn't even something I watched for long.

No the daily drama is fulfilling enough. I have my own drama. My own stars, that have their talents, skills and quirks. I have my own producers, writers and even commericals. Balancing all of this is amazing to me. Keeping the peace is daunting. Knowing the needs of today's episode star, be they leading lady or leading man. Factoring for the weather, the climate their temperment. My own powers and abilities to make this all come through in a shining moment at the end of the day. Yes, "well done" are words enough when it is time to put my feet up.

As I look longer and listen closer, the importance of perfection has lost its judgement. Seizing that moment. Relishing this thought or feeling. Perfection is for me to seek within myself. Not within the people I interact with, the work I do or the situations I attempt to control. I can not control it. I have to use the tools, the talent and the hope. I pray all things work out for the right reasons and causes.

I am grateful for my gifts, my friends, my job, my family, home and my potential. I long to see where this journey will take me. Sometimes impatient. Sometimes irreverent to the lesson.

I am seeing the sand slip through my fingers. Feeling it's warmth, know it is tiny fractured pieces of glass and rock. Thinking it is so small. I am unable to focus on the smallest particle. I am noting the sensation of the sand slipping through my fingers. I am feeling the feeling. Soft, warm, fast. It moves quickly. Too quickly. I can not slow it down. Oh, just once to slow it down? The I know there are times I do not sense it, do not listen to its sound as it falls from my hand, I do not attend to the particle or the presence. Those go by quickly. It is sometimes better to stick my feet into the sand. That is grounding. Not stable but grounding. For that moment, I am sure and connected. Sometimes I can put my ear to the sand and hear its voice, squishing under the feet of walkers. Hearing it blowing in the wind. Tumbling into each other. I sometimes like to blow into the sand to make it jump. Make it do something that I command. Cause a chain reaction. Only to see it always fall back into its own rightful place. Exactly as it should be in the Universe. No drama there. All is well and right.

Sandcastles today and tomorrow. I have a bucket and a shovel.

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