My letter to Santa..Thumbs up Santa!

Dear Santa,

For days I have felt the need to sit and write to you and share of my wishes. My life raced, went up hill and down hill on a daily basis and yet I couldn't get my butt in the chair long enough and quiet enough to get this note to you.

Instead of asking for anything in this letter as in years past, I want to list so much what I am thankful for. Maybe just once I won't ask for anything but will acknowledge all that the miracles have afforded me.

Santa, thank you for all the trials and scrapes of this past year. They are so precious to me that I wouldn't trade them for anyone else's! I now have inside jokes with my children about the most darkest parts of the year and the stupidest things that I said. Being a completely imperfect human and parent is a gift. Thank you for the humility that has come from those lessons and my journey.

Thank you for the remarkable children, they are turning out quite nicely despite me and their genetics! So grateful that I am blessed with three girls and one boy. As a woman it is always nice to be surrounded by other females that share some of the most vulnerable pieces of your life and know you so intrinsically! Smart, brave, beautiful and daring, they all have their special powers that only the Amazonian women can command! Brains, beauty and kindness with a spoonful of compassion upon me while I lead the way through this dark and dreary world. A special thanks at the idea that my girls have grown into my size of clothes! I can now borrow their things equally as they borrow mine! Ahh there is a payback for all those years of dress up to have prepared us to share our closets!

Thanks to that boy of mine, he has made me smile and cry all in the same breath! Who would have thought that we would be where are today all because of the sweet little eyes that pierced my heart on the living room floor that fateful day in a small humble foster home in Sumner! He is a giant among Amazons! He breaks my heart and makes me ask for more everyday because he is salty, sweet and crunchy in how he lives each moment in our family. He amazes me with the things he says. Yet fated at birth to be voiceless and soundless, he speaks and sounds like he owns every room he steps into.

Thankful to my parents and siblings. Mindful of your imprint on me. Careful to preserve your memory in my heart when we can't be together. There is much undone and wondrous in our roots and wings. Thank you for your support and kind prayers in my trials.

Thankful my friends, you have stepped into a whirlwind of what I can call my life. You have held me up in my stormy moments and spoke to me from the sidelines. It has been something to get to this place. To feel a spiritual difference each year as I look back. I am thankful for the gifts of love, spirit and guidance I have been given.

Actually all of these gifts and gratitude have been priceless and money can't buy. There isn't a price for the gracious friendship, guidance, support, prayers and love that I have been given! They can't be wrapped or put into a box. I can only hope that they are passed on to others in the same spirit of giving.

Santa, a big hug and thumbs up to you in this years gifts! Thank you for believing in me! Thank you for the Universal love!

Love,

Wonder WomAnn

p.s. Next year I could really use a Amazonian tropical island vacation! (In my invisible jet of course!)

Tripping the Universal Lights Fantastic

I can kind of remember being a small girl and standing on my father's feet while he held my hands and we danced. His steps were confident and his strides were wide. I was thrilled at the start of the dance but often terrified and wanted to stop before the music ended. Hanging on to my partner and keeping up with the speed and movements was difficult. I didn't have practice, I didn't know the music and more importantly I didn't know the steps.

Now the dance is different, as are the dancers. I am not dancing with my father, I am not little but, it feels the same way to a large degree.

Now I am older, wiser and taller. Much taller. I have danced. I am familiar with the tune. I know the steps and can pace my stride. I know the quick tempo and the timing of the dance for the most part.
My dance partner this time is the Universe and He is a very good dancer. I having practiced for forty-six years am competent and qualified. Although there are times when I get off tempo, forget my footing and get distracted by the little things that occur in my daily life.
There were times when I find myself saying "Why am I even doing this dance?", "This is too hard!", "I am not a good enough dancer to tango with the Universe!".
Some how I keep dancing, keep spinning and dipping and tango in and out of everyday in time for just another amazing round of music!
Sometimes I have felt his hand confidently around my waist guiding me and my frame in tempo with his. It is so much easier for me to keep up, gracefully glide in confidence when I am held close and supported. It is those crazy sexy spins and dips that take me away from my grounded-ness and confidence. Those dips that make my eyes roll around in my head, cause me to get confused and spend some energy searching out the horizon to gain my footing.
This dance is quick, the tempo is familiar. The partner is a master.

Is it my kids, my job or my thoughts that keep me in the dance? Are those the same things that make me distracted and confused in my dance? How can I finish this dance? How can I get to be a master dancer? Will the tempo change someday and slow way down? Will I recognize the tune after so many years or will I just intrinsically feel the tempo and like a robot step in line and pick up my feet? Do professional dancers get this tired? Are there other dancers out there that feel the way I do? I chime in with my girlfriends that life, this dance, is too fast, too hard and too complex to juggle so much.
What and how do I predict the next dance, samba or tango? Rumba or waltz? The Universe doesn't tell me before we start. Actually there isn't a break in between dances. One begins right where the other one left off. There isn't time to sit, rest, catch my breath or change my shoes!
Remarkably I keep dancing. I have enough breath to dance some more, and more remarkably I have the energy to keep going and my shoes aren't hurting.
What is on the horizon? The Universe knows the dance card and the music score when I do not. I have thrilled at the previous dances. I have loved the variety of music and steps and dips and spins. I have handled it all fairly well and have done well at keeping in the dance.

This is a dance of a lifetime.

When marimba rhythms start to play,
dance with me, make me sway
Like a lazy ocean hugs the shore
Hold me close, sway with me more

Like a flower bending in the breeze
Bend with me, sway with me
When we dance you have a way with me
Stay with me, sway with me

Other dancers may be on the floor
Dear but my eyes will see only you
Only you have that magic technique
When we sway I go weak


I can hear the sounds of violins
Long before it begins
Make me thrill as only you know how
Sway me smooth, sway me now


When marimba starts to play
Hold me close, make me sway
When we dance you have a way with me
Stay with me, sway with me



http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dG8giVJKQPI&features=related

Pearls for Glenna

Pearls are an incredible gift. Created out of irritation from a grain of sand or particle in the surf, something beautiful and stunning evolves for our enjoyment and treasure.

Pearls like life, are layers of coatings to bring its journey to a final luster.

Each pearl is a different color and different shape. Colored by the trials and tears of its life, Just like yours!

Different species of oysters create different kinds of pearls. Male species can create a pearl just as a female species can. I have to say few men create pearls in my life but I may just have not washed up into them yet. I am keeping my eyes open. I imagine Forest is that for you!

How long does it really take for the pearl to be made? That is like asking "How many licks does it take to get to the center of a Tootsie Pop?"! Time manages our pearls size and color. Leaving the pearl in the shell will result in a larger sized pearl. Time creates those pearls in its own ideal. Just like time manages our own growth and coloring.

Extracting a pearl, who is a Pearl handler? The oyster doesn't decide to kick out the pearl but it has to be extracted, either by hand or by a naturally occurring event. The death of an oyster is the last cause of pearl eviction. So know that your pearls won't come after our death. Extract them now by hand or by event in your life and wear them proudly. Share them with those you meet and love.

I remember from listening to my Mom, that women would get pearls on special occasions. A string of pearls for an anniversary, a pearl ring at graduation or a birthday. Any day you get pearls is a special occasion to us! Don't wait, watching for that special day to come.

So now you have your pearls? What now? Keep them in oil. the oils of our skin help them keep their luster. Touching them often and rolling them in your hands or across your heart. Avoid chemicals such as perfumes. Although they may smell great, they will eat away at the pearls surface.

Why do we just love pearls Glenna? Tried and true, luster and shine, from an irritating start to a smooth finish. Don't forget these are your pearls. For you to give away, your pearls of wisdom. No one else can give them as gifts. No one else can touch them and interpret them the way you can. Enjoy them, cherish them, share them and know the Universe and time created them for you from your oyster to do with as you please.

The limits of a superhero!

There are times when I know I should do this or that, but they slip away. Duty calls, friendships fall and then in the days end there is much still left undone.

I can't be there to stop the world. I can only choose my battles. The world is bigger than I am and I remain outnumbered by them all.

Pulling me here and pushing me there, I sometimes just find that like a deer in the headlights I stand blankly and stare.

My human side is defined by my beating heart. The callouses on my feet and hands. The ones I am responsible for. When I look away for a moment I can sometimes see my reflection and stand content in my image. Sometimes I am happy, truly happy at how I have evolved and turned out.

Other times I avoid the reflection and listen to the crashes of my falling self esteem when met with un-finished business.

Exhausted at times and fearful and worried drains my powers and light. Eating becomes tedious, Sleeping is not long enough. Days are too short. Breezes are too few.

Once a hug made the energy wax. I have to chase a hug from my underlings now. Either they are too busy or off on their own quests or I am off fighting the good fight. Leaving them to manage their world and learn and grow.

Growing up is over-rated. There isn't a manual that guides us and warns us or helps us trouble shoot.

When our heart breaks is alarming. Had we listened would it have hurt anymore or any less? When we break others' hearts, it still hurts us. Can't hide those pieces of our souls. It all comes out in the wash.

Learning to think slowly about the day's agenda. Be a reasonable superhero. Flying at a reasonable speed and at a reasonable altitude often is difficult. Knowing which fight, which superhero feat is next. Weighing them out and choosing them wisely. There are other superheros to help in the battle!

Just beccause...

There seems to be this piece of me that keeps track of parts of my life that are out of balance. Once in a while I can see this part and hear it's tappings on my consciousness. It is a bit Edgar Allen Poe, but makes sense when so much runs quickly through my mind and my days.

It's as if I beleive I can manage it all and keep things in check. Then I get the message that things are on "tilt" and I hit the eject button to once again put my feet on the ground. I hear the cries of need and want from parts of my life and people in my life. I choose once again to climb into my ride of believing that I can juggle it all and and make it make sense. There isn't much that doesn't make me halt except this "tilt".

Like a hamster on a wheel, running, picking up speed and gaining momentum. Then I suddenly realize I am not keeping up with the speed of the wheel. My foot trips and I am swinging upside down on the wheel and getting dizzy. Ah-ha! The break-neck speed has caught me by the toe. I am in a spin.

When time allows for a slower pace I am wondering what is missing, count my chicklings and check the stability of my realm. Yes, once again I sit looking at the hamster wheel feeling invincable, super hero strength and tell myself I can do it. Is it the rush of break-neck speed that I miss or just the rush from the challenge of the task.

Sarah's Song

The smell of her hair, warm and sweet

I breathe calmly from the touch of her feet.

Crawling into my comfort, fluffy bed.

Gives one to wonder what is going through her head.

Singing in sorrow, singing in sighs,

Looking at her and what hides in her eyes.

Sizing up strength, pulling the rope.

Pushing one, looking for and questioning hope.

Getting to the core of it she tears it open,

Making a small sound of loss then learning and coping.

Singing in sorrow, Singing in sighs,

Looking at her and what hides in her eyes.

The gentle compassion, she lets out the door,

surprises and comforts those hearts left on the floor.

Should she give in or give more?

Singing in sorrow, singing in sighs,

Looking at her and what hides in her eyes.

Leading, laughing in musical tones,

she's got the strength of an amazon deep in her bones.

Unscathed on the outside, her armour is steel,

inside her sits a heart broken and real.

Singing in sorrow, singing in sighs,
Looking at her and what hides in her eyes.

Tell her to look at the horizon,

have faith strong child,

there stays in your path the wind of the wild.

It will carry your heart and make you smile.

Singing in sorrow, singing in sighs,

Looking at her and what hides in her eyes.

Find that minute, take a deep breath,

Choose your battle, but take your rest.

Don't run too fast than your body can take.

Relish the idea of all your power and stake.

Singing in sorrow, singing in sighs,

Looking at her and what hides in her eyes.

Journey with me, sometimes taking the helm.

Know what talents and strengths you carry and have,

Will serve you well.

Singing in sorrow, singing in sighs,

Looking at her and what hides in her eyes.

Fill your sail, clean your deck.

Prepare yourself, go give 'em heck!

Your map is in your heart, seek out its treasures.

Give time each day to reflect and to measure.

Step carefully, watch for your mark, listen and hark.

You are the captain of your soul!

Mirrors in my path

I have been faced with mirrors in my path. Some small and some large. Covering the entire horizon. Vast. Cracked, smoked, and some unclear.

I am the mirror of my children, my work and my world. I have been the reflection of what I have manifested. I have set the mirrors in my path to know and to realize. Who would have thought that these very mirrors would have been the stumbling blocks and the obstacles that I have by-passed before. Divine and eternal.

I see myself in a new light. I see my children with compassion as I see myself.
I see the gray, I see the importance of each view, each moment of actualization in myself and my world.

I am grateful for the other things that influence my thoughts. My own Mom, my chance to sit on my porch and hear the owl hoot, the reflection in silence and in sound.

Who was that woman in the mirror? Who was that child? What is she seeking? Who does she see? Is it me? The real me? The reality of what others see or what I struggle to clarify? Affirmations shed to the side and bounce around in an empty mind of wonder.

I am here. I am mindful. I am present. I wonder what will tomorrow's reflection be like. How will it ripple to others? How will it settle when the water is settled in its' turbulence.

What happens when the storm is still? Is it to mean something more? Should more come? Should I be protected, prepared or should I allow the storm to roll over us like a wave of a strong current on a tropical beach, under tow or just a gentle tug?

To gray or not to gray? That is the question. Much of who we are is in how we see ourselves. Finding the peace and comfort in all that we portray.

I am sure I have left a trail, a legacy in my path. I am grateful for that. I am sure that that legacy has been scattered with mirrors along the way.

Size, Shape, Emotion and especially the imprint of what I had hoped for. Transitions are best served in front of a mirror.
Standing in front of a mirror. Embracing the contrast of self esteem and actuality. Looking deeply into the motion of life and the intention and passion of work. Knowing what is best and what is real for a flashing moment. I am puzzled that more do no profess the mirrors in their life and in their humanity. Haven't heard from my family and guides about how it has given them introspect.

None-the-less I will continue to stare and examine the image, the person, the personage in the mirror to make it all that I am. The complete definition of who, what, where and why. The "How" may still escape me but I am hopeful.

Roots

The ties that bind us are truly the ties that hold us to ourselves and the past, present and future. As a growing entity we are like roots. Constantly reaching against the hardness of the world, into the depth of our lives and the complexities of its composition.

The roots are strong, some are thin and tenacious. It lies a wonder in mind to ponder the direction we work against our roots. If I she says it's black then I would say it's white. My Mom and Dad have been my roots. Roots that I have fought, pulled up and snapped off in times of my life that I find still graft when I finally set down long enough to ground. The roots aren't close together for me, but are spread far with space and time between them. The eras of trials always have resulted in spaces for my roots. When those roots are farther apart they grow stronger, working harder to nurture my soul and family. Working harder and being larger to take in the necessary pieces of joy and sadness that energize my growth. The thinner roots have bundles of other thin roots growing around them. Making for thin but bundled strength to make up for on strong root. Sometimes the thin roots break in growth if they are standing alone.

Did we know the roots that we were given would be grafted into our own family tree? Do my children grow against my roots as I had grown against my own parent's roots? Can we weather a storm, hurricane or typhoon in our tender years, our aged years? Will it be one storm that snaps us or the result of a lifetime of storms that bring us crashing to our knees?

Grafting roots has been a challenge for my life as of late. Picking up the pieces of roots that were snapped off in the trials and storms. Tenderly and gently rebinding them, brushing them off and clearing away the damage. There have been roots I have tried to regrow by forcefully shoving them into the soil of my life. I, in my fervor further damaged them by my sheer force and will power. The tenacity of the root returns despite my brutality of determination to keep the good parts. Thankful for that!

There are roots that decay. Roots that for some reason did not nurture my growth. To those, I have allowed them to wither and die. To be reabsorbed into the composition of my life and to provide nurturing experiences of sage and wisdom.

I am sincerely grateful for my roots. Blackened and strong from time. Fortifying in the barren and winter and dry hot summers. It may be all I leave behind.

Those shoes! Those feet!

How can you walk in those shoes? I love those shoes! Where did you get those shoes? Let me try on those shoes? Big girl shoes. Kicking butt shoes. Catch me shoes. Working shoes. Painful shoes.

Big shoes to fill. Size ten.

What goes through the mind of a shoe designer? What goes through the mind of a woman shoe buyer? It is as intimate as buying under-garments.

Dad was a size fourteen and mom a size eight. Average that and it is me. Shoes of an authoritarian, a farmer's daughter, a middle-class hard worker that believes in the value of keeping your word and following through on things that you start.

Leaving your shoes at the front door. Japanese that way. Thai in respect. Montessori in the idea that the floors are clean enough to enjoy.

Teacher's shoes. Coach's shoes.

Shoes of a friend that is sometimes able to cheer, sometimes able to help and sometimes just standing still being there.

Shoes of the soft places, slippers...warm not just with socks but cozy and practical.

Running shoes...keeping the pace. Trying not to trip and scuff up the place.

Mountaineering shoes, going where no woman has gone before. Daring that next step.

High heels, giving that added height, factoring a boost to the view of self and life.

Boots, thick and tough, guarding the ankle and shin from kicks and snake bites. Added support for the wobbly moments while standing on the edge of a decision and a journey.

Red ruby slippers, clicking together to make it back home...'cause there's no place like home.

Black four inch heels that make the scene, gussy up any outfit, define the jean. Not a cougar shoe but a classic at any age. Classy at 20 something and at 40 something all the rage.

Stocking feet, socks or just barefoot. Like the barometer of a woman, it defines her mood.

Flip-flops to cool my jets.

Cushioned insoles to lighten my step.

Battle gear all battle worn, respectfully kept in a place of its own.

Line them up. There you will find, my wings and and my armor at any given time. In my closet, near my door, some of them are strewn Friday night on the floor. Stories in each, miles apart, each one has a place in my heart. Journey and adventures, sorrows and joys, shoes mark the moments like toys to boys!

Mind those toes, they bear all your weight, once you destroy them it will effect your gait. Keep them warm and gaurded in shoes, parade them around when you have the blues. Take them to task when making the hours pass. Those toes are worth millions to you when in green grass.

My daughters try them on, fill them at some, taking moments to prance around and dream of the stuff. Someday they will know that it is the shoe that makes the outfit, but the woman that defines the shoe!

Standing back up and trying to get grounded

So here it is Tuesday and I am finding myself knocked over and teetering on decisions. No one thing is driving the bus of over-analyzation, it is just driving itself at this point! I need to find some space to get quiet tonight and look inside.

For as long as I can remeber I am never alone. I find that the time I get to relax is usually filled with so many things demanding my time and thoughts. Sometimes knowing chaos is comforting, something known and predictabily unpredictable. What would I do if I were really still and quiet. How would I veiw things this way? It seems almost upside down to my perspective. It can be such a boon to me to accomplish so much in so little time with so little brain power but still some days feel overwhelming. I think of all that happens in a week and am often humbled and wonder how it all got sorted, catagorized, cleaned, preened and perfected or left to perfect itself in a knowing kind of way!

It is that moment when I have to say, "Ahh yes! How did that happen?" or Ahh, yes! I was susposed to take care of this or that!" then I realize time is fleeting and I am running at break-neckc speed to make sense in a non-sensical way of things that really aren't susposed to make sense at all but are susposed to be just what they are...chaos.

Sighing in my room, laying here thinking about the possibility of living on a tropical island, living in the mountains away from all the noise and hustle. There is a time for quiet and patience in my life and in my day. I keep forgetting to take care of it first.

So yoga, wii fit or just back out on my walks? Leaving the rest of things behind and taking care of myself being more able to direct, rodeo and manage the mind, my world and my days.

Standing back up and brushing myself off! Getting back to a place that I can listen again! Whew!

Exploring the cave, spelunking the "Ann Cave"!.

So in the deepest, craziest times I find myself in this cave. Exploring my thoughts, my emotions and my dreams. Beating down anger, soothing hurts and sadness and singing in gladness. I can find these things in my cave, my "Ann Cave".

One visit I was caught between a crevasse of decision, groping for a rope of understanding to pull myself out.

http://vids.myspace.com/index.cfm?fuseaction=vids.individual&videoid=57754403&searchid=da48f280-b6c5-49ac-8a26-bb4454f8b436

Another time I was teetering on a precipice, thinking about impact, falling and the depth of the fall.

I have left paintings of thoughts and dreams and drawings of intuition rendered in visions. I have navigated stalactites and stalagmites. I have looked for the entrance that holds a ray of light in a cold dark place. I have searched in my cave during my winter and in the stifling heat of passion and sadness of summer.

I have sought out underground streams of wisdom and clarity. I have stirred the sediment in the pools of condensation, to find my heart still confused when I walked away.

I have sought to find others that live in my cave to hear their movement and signs of life but find them ghosts in my imagination. Sometimes I have not been alone. I have been in my cave with loved ones in spirit and held their hand tightly. I have heard them cry and wander without words. We have searched for some loved ones and their light, the inner light that guides and shines. Following their light to try to join it with our own.

I have heard my breathing, heard my thoughts from my own voice although those thoughts were never spoken. I have heard music, air rushing while I am still. I should hang a chime in my cave.

http://vids.myspace.com/index.cfm?fuseaction=vids.individual&videoid=40812867

It has been a territory I am familiar with. There have always been deep dark caches of rooms to explore. Yet I am never alone, not without my thoughts and feelings and memories. Some things terrifying are also comforting. Familiarity is depth and shallowness all in the same moment.

Enter at your own risk, choose to sit outside, listen from the mouth of the cave for the cries and songs. It is a place of refuge, a trap at times. I can sleep for days in my cave and emerge unchanged but refreshed. I can sit for hours and feel as if I am leaving the cave another woman, another spirit. Sometimes it is the journey and not the destination that changes me.

I have a feeling that comfort comes from within. Amenities are carried in and frugal to those on the journey. No journal is kept, nothing recorded. Too sacred for words and too fleeting for capture. Revisiting is reviewing. Return to its depths. Knowing that returning to the cave is just as important as leaving it.

Forest Russell

He was born in 1901 and died in 1924. November 19th was his birthday.

Brother to Caroline, son to strict Victorian parents. Forestry industry and land owners were his family's trade.

Obligated by duty and obedient by upbringing.

Wanted to be a vet but went to law school because that was what his father wanted.

Had a horse name Charlie.
Was allergic to feathers.

Refused to butcher his sister's white rabbit when parents requested it.

Hated striped trousers and preferred to wear brown.

Spent his days in the library studying law and looking out the window of the law library, wondering how to fulfill his dreams and destiny.

Dreamed of love and adventure.

Loved architecture and his sister deeply.

Lived in the south North Carolina to be exact.

Rode to and from school on the train.

His heart was broken when he had to leave his sister Caroline.

He preferred the kitchen and the company of Junie his family's cook. Her food was hearty and warming and her laughter and love a magnet. Avoiding the family parties and public appearances.

Had a love of beer and pubs that he hid from his parents.

Died of a brain tumor on the left side of his brain.

Died in his sister's arms at just 23 years old. Still a virgin, never kissed, never traveled beyond home and school.

Knew much of his heart but felt alone for the duration of his life.

Rode his horse Charlie in love and in passion. Against his mother's wishes.

Loved the snow and the trees.

Was not finished and had much to do.

I get you. I know. How that pain feels. How that world left you wanting.

A good son, with a heart of gold, dedicated and obedient to a fault.

There was much to do and much to fulfill.

Ocean Size Love

www.youtube.com/watch?v=w6k-DqdDNnA

There were a few select times in my life that I felt close. A few times that I never shared with another person. Times when I was alone and in or at peace. Times I stood alone. I felt that awesome fear. The fear that I was small, the knowing that I would and could be completely engulfed by all.

There are places that I hold dear to those memories. I long to feel that. Rarely ever to be equaled. There were times before I had children. Times when my children were born and times when I am at home in the northwest.

I feel the greater sense of something. That echo inside of me that tells me that this is true but a mere shadow of home. Of where I am from and where I will return.

Do you think there is night time or sunset in the place we deem heaven? I can imagine that it is never dark. As celestial beings we would always be brilliant, always be shinning and the presence of heaven would be so bright it would shine brighter than the sun. Then why would we think that heavenly beings need sleep? As humans we must be ruled by this clock. Is it because our souls never sleep and if our bodies, as human as they are, must be ruled here on earth by the need for sleep and rest and darkness? If not we would burn our human-ness out in a few short weeks. Leaving lives untouched, uncreated and unfulfilled. Was it not infinite wisdom to give us the night so that we would temper our pace while on the earth? Stretch it out, make time for time? Allow us the pace to learn our lessons and feel our feelings in our human experience? It seems to keep our humanity locked in rhythm to the earth to slow our celestial speeds down to be able to exist in this plane/plain of relativity.

Thus it is even more brilliant and wondrous how we are created to be ruled by the dark and the moon but give so little credence to it in our life today. It drives the waves, changes life and death, makes for seasons, and keeps us from burning out as beings. How infinite that wisdom is to me.

I had felt I was so close at one time that I could reach out and touch home. Touch eternity. Know exactly where I was from. What I was here for and what I was to be. Then in a flash it all vanished. I begged for that closeness once again on many occasions. The confusion of my humanity keeps me wanting. Wanting the window, the view, the understanding of the why and the who.

I can find moments in the day when I can sit back and say...I get that, yes it makes sense. Then there are moments when my comprehension is fogged by emotion and fear. When I cry out in pain wondering why do I have to feel this way. What will it prove, how will this move my life to the next level of my being?

Very few places on earth have touched me in that way. Very few places and moments have given me the clarity of eternity as those cherished few have.

Upon awakening I am longing for the sleep, but yet upon my living I am longing for eternity. Is this a trial or just a journey asking myself again and again.

Ocean Size Love

I know what I'm doing may be dumb
I know I should not be staring at the sun

But the thought of it leaves me to temptation

It's the same whatever side you're on

Separated we were delicate and small

And the space between me is my redemption.

I see you in front of me, as close as you can get

And I pray that you won't leave, this daydream yet.

And if I seem much too far, to get back to where you are

But it's close enough, with and ocean size love

So if you can't reach out to me, send a sign across the sea

And I'll pick it up, with an ocean size love.

I don't have to worry any more

If I really need you I'll go to the shore

And the thought that I'll be there is my protection

I see you right in front of me, a vision in my head

And I know this is as real, as a daydream gets.

And it might seem much too far, to get back to where you are

But it's close enough, with an ocean size love

So if you can't reach out to me, send me a sign across the sea

And I'll pick it up, with an ocean size love.

You make no sound, but I can hear you in the wind

I can see this never ends, like the sea, like you for me.

And it's close enough, with an ocean size love

So if you can't reach out to me, send a sign across the sea

And I'll pick it up, with an ocean size love

And it might seem much too far, to get back to where you are

And it's close enough, with an ocean size love

So if you can't reach out to me, send a sign across the sea

And I'll pick it up, with an ocean size love.

I am feeling good!

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yYe6tmrFxbw

I am so grateful for the day and the dawning! Shame on the past and the self doubt! It is all good! It is all what I want it to be, it is just what I dreamt it would be. I feel the power of it. Kind of like a wave on the tide of a tow that brings me to the force and the wash and feeling of struggling to breathe in it its own power.

I am so lost to it's power. I know that what I feel is bigger than all I imagined. I am ready to tie myself to the shore and feel the surge of what I am facing. That you Pluto.

There is so much to be mindful of and in the moment of things I feel I am just able to keep my hands on the steering wheel. So I have tried the GPS and I have tried to figure this on my own, my own intuitiveness. Yet I have so seemed to come up short. I am not even trying to predict but know this is it...the moment of things that are good. It is all good and I know that I am destined to better and brighter things for the good of a legacy and for mankind. No looking back! Now I know all my scrapes and skins have been for purpose to see that I am ready and trained.

Thank you to my parents, Thank you to my friends, Thank you to my loves and especially thanks to my children! All of you have shaped me for who I am and who I am to become. I pray that I am just what you would hope for and that you would find solace in my trials, knowing they were not in vain, knowing they were for gain and prosperity and knowing that my love drove me to all of my choices!

No direction device is needed now and much more than that no more of an intuition is regarded, I am sure of one thing...This is what I was designed for and that I am feeling good about it.

Monday here I come!