Ready for brewing...

This morning is a good morning for tea, not just coffee, but tea. Something to slow brew. I know there is much running through my mind this morning and I just need time to make it come to a place of understanding that will give me clarity and vision.

It is a bit chilly and rainy. A cloudy day. I wanted to know what was going to happen today. I had such vivid dreams of people I have never met. Some of them comprehensible and others I just couldn't put my finger on them. Who were they? What would they bring to my life?

I think there is so much richness in my life. I often fail miserably at seeing it with clarity. I am blessed with good friends, people who love me and care about my well being. I am alive, working, contributing and growing. I can give and give so willingly without worry. I have a past that has fueled many emotions, some good, some bad. Some have been abandoned in my history book. Some I will relive and relish for times of reflection. I am grateful for my education and my family. I appreciate the obstacles, the failures, the lack of knowledge or insight at times in my life when I needed it. That lack has given me a true adventure and honed me to be who I am today.

So would I do it all over again in the same way changing nothing? Yes, whole heartily yes. Scrapes, tears and falls! Yes I would, I would embrace it all.

I long for the peace that will give me my clarity. I think I have been looking outside for it and it has been withing me all along. I found it in the pocket of my heart. I have had it all along and just didn't know it! It is brewing.

The Heart Broken

I have been thinking of the heartbreaks in my past and their impact on my life. They have greatly influenced my choices and decisions.

Been in love more than a couple of time before. Just not with the right ones I guess. Made a few more leaps than I should have and tied a knot that was not stable. I have had a broken heart a torn heart and a worn heart. I have had a heart of congestion from worry and stress. I have had a heart that runs like an over-heated engine, too fast and unregulated.

This weekend I discovered that my heart can manifest things of its own power. I have allowed my heart to emit waves, sonic kind of waves to attract a desire. Like a whale calling to its loved ones across the ocean. The heart has the power to send out vibrations of truth to manifest its desire. I didn't realize how powerful it was until I saw the manifestation occur. I was frightened by the result. I shook, trembled. I realized I had manifested the wrong thing for my benefit. How powerful of a waste. All was not wasted as it was a worthy lesson for me. Not just a coincidence.

Does the heart really grow fonder?

Does it truly break? Can it fix the tear, leak or blow out? The human body is designed to heal itself, to regenerate. Can we hear the healing? Isn't it silent, cell by cell, over time? Growing in the dark and light during the day and night?

Here is your heart's desire. Give a piece of your heart. Have a heart to heart. Brave heart, lonely heart, sweetheart,two hearts beating as one.

Is it just an organ, hardwired to function? Does it truly feel? Are we interpreting emotion into it?

Can the Universe feel and hear and sense our heart?

I can think with my heart. Die of a broken heart. Lose heart. Know when my hearts just not into it. Restart my heart. A keeper of hearts. Tender heart, hard heart, cold heart. Still beating heart. Strong heart. Leave my heart. Telltale heart.

Wow just so much to feel and think about. I am grateful for my heartaches. I feel alive in the pain and conscious of my place in the Universe. I am knowing that it is a necessary pain. I know it is a necessary growth. I am careful with my heart today as it has been wounded and it has done much.

The Windfall and the Apple

I got a bag of apples yesterday. They were so good, crisp, sweet, tart. All of this brought a flood of memories to me. Memories of the orchards and the apples and the design of life and the Universe. How much I had forgotten and left behind. How much of the answers to our behaviors lie within the growth patterns and behaviors of the apple tree.

I always thought fall was the best season for me personally. Winter was the best season for my family as it kept us inside and close together. Spring was colorful and promising and summer was comfortable. But fall was personal to me. I have always felt like it was the best season for me, Ann, as if it was designed just for me.

The leaves changing, the temperature changing. Enjoying those changes, all of it is so resonating for me. Much happens in the fall, school starts, that means new clothes, new friends, new teachers, new learning and sometimes new loves. Fall meant a world of new smells. Dusty decomposing leaves, fireplaces, rain and snow(if we were so lucky) and especially the smell of hay.

I remember the days of windfall. Windfall was when the local apple orchards would allow us to come and pick up any of the apples that would fall to the ground and we could keep them for free. It was usually after the fall wind and rains would come and knock them to the ground. The harvest of the best apples was usually well past and the remaining apples were typically spotted, bruised or in some way short in growth or maturity until they get knocked off the trees. We would take the apples home and clean them and cut and dehydrate them and bake with them and make apple sauce. I especially remember Taylor's Apple orchard out near my folks farm. The rows of trees were so wonderful. The kids could run through them and it was always safe. There wasn't anything they could get into that required supervision. They could pick up as many apples as their little arms could carry. It was always fun. I remember the folks talking about the deer coming in the early morning to eat the apples off of the trees and I would be amazed that it was just a free for all the deer and yet no one would go and photograph them or witness it. I always wanted to see the armies of deer eating freely!

I like windfall since I could enjoy the fall sunny day while having some quiet time walking among trees. My tennis shoes would always be wet from the dew and slippery from the decomposing leaves and apples. I can remember the smell of the fermenting apples as they lay in the leaves rotting. The newly fallen ones on top and the rotting ones either smashed, covered in leaves or partially eaten by birds, squirrels or other animals.

I loved the smell of the cider press, the hay strewn on the path among the trees. The apple shed that had the great machines to sort the apples and the bins that held them. It was all so mesmerizing.

Sitting in the grass under the trees on a sloping hill. I would watch the apples roll down into the field. It was always a reflective place and time.

"You can count the seeds in an apple, but you can't count the apples in a seed." This was a saying that made me ponder at great length growing up. I can imagine how many times as a preschool teacher and mom I have taught about the apple to my children and students. The star in the apple when it is cut in a horizontally. The necklaces made from apple seeds. The apple prints in tempura paint. the dried apple leaves. The dried apple faces that look like shriveled up old people, adding cotton for hair and bent pipe cleaners for eye glasses. There was always endless fun.

Cleaning apples after windfall we would find worms, beetles and flies. Peelings could be spotted and thick. Bruises were of all shapes and sizes. Kind of like people. Some folks you know have bruises, worms and bugs, that make them who they are.
Some have coloring that are just defining as unique.

Some people, like apples, have more seeds inside them then one could tell from the outside. Some people, like apples, have no seeds inside them.

Some apples are beautiful on the outside and mushy on the inside.

Some people, like apples, are uniform in their appearance but internally have bruises and bad spots unknown to the outside world.

Some people, like apples, look like the other in their family tree but taste radically different.

Some people, like apples, are crunchy, tart and juicy, while one that may appear to look the same is dry mushy and flavorless!

People like apples, can spoil in a group, some can remain for months in the cold and withstand the season. Ever seen just one apple hanging on a tree when the others have all fallen?

Apples, like people have the genetic material of the universe within them to create and share and provide for so many types of wealth, health and untold treasure!

"The apple doesn't fall far from the tree." I know I am most like my parents, I am grateful for that. The growth of my family and development of my children is that of an apple tree, the strength and integrity that is within their seeds and DNA. I would hope the legacy I leave is that kind of pattern of integrity, honesty, hard work, love, faith, passion and dedication that they have given to me.

Apple juice, cider or hot apple totie(sp?) with wine, rum or whiskey? The power and versatility of the apple. Just like people. we can have flavors and characteristics when chemicals are added or our state is altered.

So apples it is! This day I am celebrating the apple in me. In my children, in my life and in my world. An apple a day!

Cooking with Pluto

There was this moment today that I thought I could see so clearly. I felt it was an easy no brainer kind of thing. Something I could accomplish all in a day's work. I knew what needed to be done, how to do it and when to make it happen.

Then this funny thing happened. I woke up! I was dreaming. Having a complete sense of clarity in the dream state had been such a relief. A refreshing break from this earth life. A fragment of time and space when everything seems so clear actually slipped right through my fingers.

Whatever it is that is happening is still happening. I can't name it, but I can feel it, smell it and taste it. I can, in every moment of my day. That transformation of my life to become a better life, a better me!

I think that I know the recipe, the time required should be shorter than prescribed but I am being patient. I have collected the necessary ingredients. They are accounted for and are making the seasoning right. I can feel the warmth around the concept. It is brewing in my heart and in my soul. Patience is a virtue. Experience is the teacher.

I wonder how it will turn out how it will work out and what pieces will move next in the molecular structure of what is to become my life. Anxious and excited. I am not allowing myself to think about the negatives, the sad, the problematic things. I am focusing on the dream, the positive and the journey. Too many years of self talk has kept me standing still. Frightened to move. Paralyzed to act. Having enough, knowing enough, being enough. Silly ol' self. I had it in me all along and now it is there is the mirror. Looking right back at me. I can see me and know that it is good, knowing, feeling and alive. It is all there just for me to have, to share, to create and to expand.

I used to worry a great deal about what others thought of me and their perspectives mattered a great deal. I worried about not measuring up to some ideal. I know it was a false ideal and it would have never been something I could have achieved because it wasn't my ideal.

So the recipe stands, ingredients added, temperature rising and time is passing. Just waiting on the results. I can smell it, I can imagine how it will taste and how it will feel. I am looking forward to it completion and the chance to know, feel and live this flavorful next meal.

Grateful for all that I have, all that I am and for what is to come next!

Lot 'o balls!!

So juggling was under-rated in my view until recently. I realized that much of my life requires a PhD in juggling. Juggling kids, work, home, crisis, friends, dating etc. I used to think the kids in high school who could juggle were nerds. Later in college drinking with friends I thought juggling was hilarious and just a party trick.

Now look at life, just juggling things hour by hour. Drive here, stop there, call this person, answer that email, what's for dinner?, we are out of peanut butter! Sigh!

Realizing the world turns and i am walking across it's face while juggling more balls than i know what to do with is somewhat daunting!

So juggling is truly an art to me now, knowing what I know. The other part of this wonderment is the "Lot's 'O Balls!" piece. The proverbial having balls. Guts, stamina and fortitude. I can be truly thankful for the knowledge that I have grown in many ways over the years. More ways than I wanted. Mostly braver. Having the courage to step outside of the box, think outside of the box and more importantly speak outside of the box. I couldn't have done that twenty years ago.

Time passes and I pick up another chance to grow, adding a ball literally to juggle, a ball to know my inner voice to be brave. When one drops i pick up another one, or two or three! Olympic juggling? Perhaps it is all as it should be in this Universe, juggling is our life skill! Getting balls is our requirement.

Thankful to know I juggle better with the lights on.

Just being

So this morning I awoke at 1:30 and felt like there was something I was supposed to do. I wasn't sure what it was so I just laid there thinking about my day the the random thoughts that darted in and out of my consciousness. I know the heaviness of my sinus infection was bothering me all night. I knew there wasn't enough water at my bedside to drink. I knew that today had to be something short of miraculous to have caused me to be so alert. I was excited.

I knew that the dog needed food, the car needed gas, the laundry needed folding, the floors needed a good sweeping. But what else was it that I was supposed to know? For that moment in time, the house was quiet. The world seemed safe from my view of the bedroom. I sat back with my back to the headboard. My feet were warm and toasty. I love that feeling. Cozy. I could hear the furnace kick on and the air blow through the vents in the floor. I could hear the stuffy breathing from my own nose. My mind was sharp and alert but I couldn't find the point of focus.

I thought about the warmth of the covers, the coolness of the night air that surrounded my home. I thought that it could have been one of those moments when I needed to check on my kids. Like the teacher and parent I have always been I felt a need to do a head count. Crawling out of be I realized the floor creaks under my feet. The dog raised his head to see where I was heading but remained at the foot of my bed, too warm to arise with me. Can't blame him really. He, like most animals must have had the sense of knowing that all was well.

I checked on the five year old, the 14 year old and of course the thirteen year old. All was well. All were in a warm bed breathing and dreaming their night away. They are safe and sound.

I turn to head back upstairs to bed and there it was, that sound that I only hear when I am moving slow enough up the stairs. the creak of my right knee. At each step and each bend I heard it. It feels like little bubbles in my knee. Just getting squeezed out and around with each step. "That my dear", I tell myself, "is your good knee!". The one that hasn't had three surgeries! I know it is there but don't hear it often. Maybe because I move to fast, or my world is too noisy. Maybe because I forget that I make noise even in my quietest times. Yes that is it!

Knowing my noise, hearing my self, identifying the things that make me...me! I reach the top of the stairs and crawl back into my warm bed. The dog doesn't move. The covers are still warm. My chilled toes are welcomed by the body heat that remained. Sigh! A sense of comfort, calm and safety for the moment. The best place to be. Just be. Listening, thinking and knowing that all is well and everything will work out. I will be. All will be. Trusting the Universe.

Thankful for my life, my loves, my family and especially for the knowing in this moment.

It is the collective that cares, drives and makes the cookies!

Did I know that was the case? Hell no! Here I am finding the collective rising.

The women that set the stage. The women that find the energy and those that have the drive and passion to see the truth, feel the force and know the difference.

To act upon the inspiration, to know the feeling is not just indigestion, PMS or goosebumps from a movie or commercial on the radio. Defining how we can set the world on it's tilt! It is certainly surprising, somewhat shocking and truly magnetic. Did Hollywood have it summarized when they said..."BUILD IT AND THEY WILL COME" in the movie Field of Dreams?

I am building it brick by brick, concept by concept and the encouragement of those around me and those within me and those that sing and resonate with me are giving me the guiding force and velocity to do just that! Build it so they will come!

The elements are the driving force, the basis for truth, the water that life force. The truth is that I don't have the recipe or the experience. I don't know the ingredients but am finding them along the way. Thankful to those experienced cooks, chefs and cookie maker extraordinaire!

Some nuts, some raisins some healthy stuff, some chewy stuff, some sweet, some hard to digest, some serious exercises in changing our metabolism. How dynamic it becomes when working with multiple cooks, chefs and talented people! Good cooks know what to do with them all!

The cookie face, the cookie ingredient, the cookie shape, the cookie result, the cookie marketing, all is crucially important to me and those I dream and will work with. The perfect balance, the perfect blend. The universe is in its full force, creating the best recipe ever! MMMM so warm, soft and yummy! Delectable and great with our milk teeth to take on in our young place of a journey.

Waiting on the bus!

I was just thinking that this all felt like waiting on the bus. I wondered if I watched up the road in the direction of the bus I would be prepared. Watched pots never boil right? That won't work!

How should I wait? Should I wait near the curb and run the risk of be splashed by the traffic in life? Should I stand a few feet away and listen to music or read my book? That might make the time pass but it surely won't help me be alert. Those in themselves are distractions that I might not be able to afford if I miss the bus completely and have to wait for it to come back by in another 263 years.

Will the bus be full? Will there be things that are inspiring? Things that are scary? Will it be a fast ride or a bumpy ride or a tediously laborious ride to the next stop? What passengers will accompany me? Will we talk to each other or just make awkward eye contact to acknowledge each other?

Listening for the bus. Recognizing that rush of warm air from the engine that warms me on a cold brisk morning. The smell of fuel leaks out and comes before the ride.

I know there is much to be patient for. I can hear my sister and even my own mother's voice telling me countless times..."patience is a virtue". Yes but it is not one that I am gifted with.

Darn that bus! I am ready to go! I have things to do and people to meet, lives to touch, things to change and adventures untold!

Between Time and Space: How far is the alarm clock from your bed?

Ha! It is Saturday morning, the alarm goes off at five a.m.! I know I turned it off, but I can't remember the act of doing it! The alarm was on my cell phone. I have another back up alarm three feet from the bed to ensure I don't sleep past 5:45 a.m. and risk the timeliness of duties for the day. Efficiency is my best master.

Rolled back over, looking out the window. Just thinking about the time I spend in bed, most of it sleeping since I don't get much down time. The problem with me is that when I get horizontal my consciousness usually spills out of me and I pass out. There I am un-conscious to the world. The kids find this the best time to approach me for the things they want that consciously, I would never agree to. Mom can you take me to target tomorrow? Can I have spacers put in my ears? A unconscious parent can agree to tattoos if they are too far gone into the horizontal plane trip.

I used to think sleeping was such a bore. Now it is surely been replaced on the trophy shelf by eating, cooking and cleaning. When I was 18 years old I couldn't be bothered to sleep. Now I find at the young age of 45 that sleep just happens, kind of like that bumper sticker that says "shit happens!". Yes I don't think about it. It just happens. Sometimes it happens on the couch, sometimes while watching t.v., sometimes at my desk staring at the computer. It just happens! I feel at this age so powerless to it. My body craves it and my mind caves without it.

So what happens when I don't sleep? Ohh now comes some interesting facts about me you may have not really known about! I growl, grind my teeth, walk harder, sigh deeper, dehydrate, obsess about trying to sleep and watch the clock! Maybe everyone does those things but to me they are not a part of my regular routine. I like NOT doing those things!

Speaking of watching the clock. Have you every realized that kids don't know the value of a minute, five minutes or even ten? Yes I will elaborate. I can tell my five year old that the bus will be here in five minutes. No effect. I can tell my thirteen year old that she needs to be ready in ten minutes...still no effect! But if it is raining and they call to find out my estimated time of arrival, then ten minute or even five minutes is a measure from another dimension!

I have accumulated this theory about teaching time to kids. As a teacher by training and a Mom by calling, teaching and teachable moments are a beautiful thing. Although grossly underpaid, all teachers create this vastly deep commitment to sharing things about the world and learning in a capacity of being unrewarded.

So back to my theory, as a child we have to learn what time is. Usually by marking the seconds that pass we can really comprehend time and internalize it. The moment when we have internalized ourselves to time we become accountable to the the world in a way that no longer allows for us to ever lose that accountability. So time out is a good thing. It allows us the opportunity to sit and know that time is passing. To notice the quiet of space. To notice the events that unfold around us without changing by our involvement. Marking time, when the teachers or Moms or Dads tell us to listen quietly, can you hear the second hands click? Can you hear the fan or motor of the refrigerator? Can you hear the sound of your breathing? Counting those breaths, those ticks, those clicks. That helps us develop a consciousness of a second, a moment, or a period of time. Now imagine if you couldn't hear the clock tick, the refrigerator fan/motor hum. What if you couldn't hear anything? That is my theory. That learning the sense of time is a difficult task for those who can not hear. Why is it that as old people we become late? Get lost in our thoughts? Is it because we are losing our hearing? Losing our time?

After working with deaf and hard of hearing children and their families for twenty years now I get this concept. I have to make time count for it self. To make time mark its own place in space. To teach the passage of time in alternative ways that are not acoustically dependent. Modeling this for parents and students has become a passion for me. The social stigma of being deaf and being late are in my mind because of this concept and this alone. It is a learned value that might have gone untaught. Sometimes this is an epiphany to parents and people. We don't think about the mechanics of the time and the passage of time in space. So many social constructs are contingent on time and our behaviors and management of our self within time. It's a myth...Time Management! We can't manage time. There really isn't time management per say but managing our behavior within time. It was grossly misnamed!

So here it is moments later, I am wondering how much time I can hear today pass by me. How much time I will consciously mark with thoughts actions and feelings that are positive and nurturing to those I love and myself. I will search out the quiet and mark the space with sounds, thoughts, feelings and actions. I will relish the weekend and the time and space between Friday and Monday! I will make this time and space a valuable experience for me and those I love.

Pluto and the.."Natural Woman"!

So there it is just staring me in the face. Sitting there as smug and happy as can be. The realization that my future is there to my shaping. How devastating! Exciting and scary all in the same moment! Where does this power come from? Why does it land near me? Should I do something with it? Is there a retaliation if I choose not to respond? Should I acknowledge it should I breathe through it?

Yes there it is. Pluto transitioning! Sigh! just knowing the power of that is daunting! It only happens every two hundred sixty some years! Dang! I am scared! It is influencing the things I have chosen to ignore. The things that have gone better off un-spoken! Shhh! It is just susposed to happen in its own way and the rest of the world will not even know the ship sailed. The planets moved and my Pluto shifted! Deeper sigh! Remembering to breathe. Thinking the influence of such an event can be paralizing, almost catastrophic. So we know the realm the moment the instrinsic peace to this movement?

So I was driving home in traffic and decided radio just wasn't enough! There I was pushing buttons and deciding to make the choice of CDs that were lodged into my six CD player for the era. (yes I sometimes am known to leave my favorties in there and not change them!) Then CD number six came up! Sigh! Shock! Here it was the piece that was missing to the complete comprehension of what was happening to me today, yesterday, the day before and tomorrow! Wait, holy hell, this was making sense to me, I suddenly knew what this meant. She sang to my heart, to my soul and to my consciousness that rocked me to laughter! Here is what it was!

Looking out on the morning rain,
I used to feel so un-inspired,
And when I knew I had to face another day,
Lord it made feel so tired.
Before the day I met you
life was so unkind,
You're the key to my peace of mind!
You make me feel,
You make me feel,
You make me feel like a natural woman.
When my show was in the lost and found,
you came along to claim it,
I didn't know just was wrong with me,
Till your kiss helped me name it,
Now I am no longer doubtful of what I am living for,
And if I make you happy I don't need to do more.
You make me feel,
You make me feel,
You make me feel like a natural woman.
Oh baby, what ya done to me?
Made me feel so good inside?
And I just wanna be,
Close to you make me feel so alive
You make me feel,
You make me feel ,
You make me feel like a natural woman!
Cause you make me feel
You make me feel
You make me feel
Like a natural woman
'Cause you make me feel
You make me feel
You make me feel like a natural woman

There it is, the song to Pluto transitioning! Should we applaud that Aretha Franklin went through the same thing? Should we know that she was that pioneer in women's worlds? Should we salute her or was it just the influence of Pluto? How astounding! How absolutely amazing! I laughed through the entire song! Is there a better place than through motown? Should there be more nobler? More humbler place to acknowledge this? Was she talking about the man of the moment of her life or the influence of a grater spirit or good? As my mom would say... "Irregardless(not a real word) it stands to reason!" Love that woman! How astounding! Humbling that we should find that moment of influence and recognize it for it's truest potential, powers and magnitude!
Sigh! There is much to do!
Looking out on the morning rain now(not in a studio but in my bedroom window) is bringing me a different meaning, a different perspective! A grander knowledge of what is in store for me and those I love deeply! I can feel it resonating! I am just an instrument!

Knowing oh.. baby what you've done for me.... I am thrilled and terrified!

Howling for crying out loud!

How is it that animals can howl? They completely understand their utterances. The wolves howl at the moon, into the woods and for each other. The coyotes howl when they are fearful, the dogs howl in harmony to an other's howling. Cat's howl in longing and want. Elk howl for warning and danger. As people, we need to howl now and then. There is great healing in howling. There is a primal piece to the howling ritual.

I love comedy. It allows me to howl in a socially appropriate way. Howling at my sense of what I find funny.

I howl when in pain. It allows my pain to become quiet while my soul focus' my energies on release.

I howl in sadness. When my brother passed, I howl in tears and with tidal waves of cries out loud. At the time it was a good thing that no one could hear me. That was such a private howl.

I howl in anger, coming home to find poop on the wall, on the toilet seat, on the bathroom counter, on my boy's hands, on the floor, on the bathroom rug. That howl frightened my children.

I howl is frustration when the lawn mower won't start, the tire is flat or when I am feeling powerless at the incidents in my life I am unable to problem solve.

Howling at the moon hasn't occurred yet. I am truly ruled by the moon. There is a wonder to the moon. I have not yet found my voice to howl at the moon yet. I am working on the resonating howl that allows me to do just that. Perhaps on my camping trip, that is just what I should do. Perhaps while sitting on my deck, when the fire is burning in the fire pit, then I should abandon the insecurities of my neighborhood association and let it out. Howl at it. Let the moon know I am here, I am listening, I am feeling, I am alive. This will be my signal to the forest, the culture and the ones who listen. From afar and from close by my heart. Yes, there is much howling to be done. Resolving to achieve this, being in the primal place of centered, grounded, aware and alive.

I've got a puppy, can't do any tricks.

Won't come when you call him.

Won't roll over, lick your face, fetch or heel.

But you know that I still love him.

He can howl at the moon with me- Awoooo

The only trick he knows- Aw Woooo

I laugh out loud each time he does it

I love him and it shows.

He can howl at the moon with me

Head thrown back, far as it goes

We'll howl together in close harmony

I love him and I think he knows- Awooooo

Warming up....mi, mi, mi, mi, mi, mi!

Who is that man?

Who is that man? The one that knows me and my calendar? The one that puts a spin on each month? The glowing one that draws my energy when I am nearest to him?

He can roll in and out of my life with subtle arrival. When I don't notice his presence I am humbled, puzzled and confused. He gives me the wink. That wink from across the universe that catches my consciousness, that gives me the "Ah- Ha" moment.

He has such power and influence. Such appeal. His impact on my world has been unfathomable.

I remember it the first time I was formally introduced to him. I remember the smells, the temperature, the moment that marked my life as a child.

I was wearing a flannel night gown. It was July 20, 1969. It was my fifth birthday. Yes at the tender age of five, he marked my life. The television was on and there it was.

"That's one small step for man, one giant leap for mankind." Then it was complete. A flag placed in an austere location that would change my life and the life of civilization for an eternity.

Each month goes by with the typical amount of fanfare. Each month is packed with busy-ness. Coming and going, worrying, planning, struggling to predict the future of what I have influence over. The daily hustle becomes a buzz.

Then it happens. That wave of emotion. I am stunned. Stunned at my feelings and my lack of ability to comprehend. I have lost my awareness in the hustle and bustle of my daily running. What sadness, helplessness and that feeling of powerless ability. Thinking in that moment, scrambling to find the root of this feeling. It is just as I had forgotten...that man of mine. That man in the moon. That tether to my heart and soul. The one that sings empathic to my inner most being.

I look upon him. Then it happens as easily as before. Yes,Just one look. Yes, just one moment before the acuity and clarity surfaces. His face is calming to me in the storm of emotions that wrack my soul. A deep breath brings me back. Everywhere on this earth there are billions of souls that are tethered by him. I am not alone. There is a greater power that is minding the universe. I am again at peace in knowing. Reflecting the place I have been and the places I will go. I am grateful, scared and taking my next breath and step.

They say fish gotta swim, and birds gotta fly.

I'm gonna love that man till the day I die.

Can't help lovin' dat man of mine.

They tell me he's lazy, they try to tell me he's slow.

Tell me he's crazy, but maybe I know.

Well, but I just can't help lovin dat man of mine.

Oh, when he goes away, that's a gloomy day.

And when he comes back I know the sun is gonna shine.

He can come home just as late as can be.

'Cause home without a man is just no home to me.

Can't help lovin dat man of mine.

Tugging my heartstrings with his ways. Understanding how my soul feels when I am thinking of the man, the man in the moon.