Wednesday, February 24, 2010

Mystical Roommates

Photo courtesy of
Bing images
I believe in magic.  No, I'm not making that up and I'm not kidding.  I really do believe in magic.  No one can convince me it doesn't exist.  I see it constantly and as a child was always a bit confused as to the why of no one else noticing these same unique moments.  Fortunately, I was born into a family with an amazing, witty, warm hearted Mom who also saw the occasional magical moment.  Humor lives in the overall personality of my large, prolific, Irish Clan of a family, as does an active imagination and a decidedly healthy Story Teller gene.  We all have it, some more than others.  Perhaps that Story Teller gene is responsible for some of us recognizing magic here and there.  For whatever reason, I received an especially strong application of that genetic tendency.

I joke often with friends about House Elf activity.  I'm sure you've either heard of it, or you've experienced it.  You know....your car keys mysteriously disappear and are eventually discovered in some absolutely bizarre, unexpected location that you swear up and down you were not responsible for.  Socks disappear in the dryer on a regular basis.  Pretty, shiny things like rings, watches, earrings and cell phones, or important things like wallets also unexpectedly disappear for weeks at a time, only to surface, out of the blue right slap in the middle of the living room carpet that you just finished vacuuming earlier the same day.  No way on Earth could the jewelry items have escaped the relentless suction and rotating rollers of the vacuum. 

How, then, do they suddenly materialize in the very middle of the freshly cleaned carpet?  If this sounds like first hand experience to you, you have a good is my firsthand experience and yes, that has happened to me, jewelry, vaccuum and all, quite recently. What causes this?  I have an answer for you.  It's Elf Activity.  Again, no, I'm not kidding.  You don't see any exclamation point on the "not kidding" part because I'm serious!  Okay, that last did require an exclamation point, just for a little extra emphasis, but I'm still not kidding.

This has happened to me throughout my life, the mysterious disappearing items, quite often of the shiny, sparkly variety and then the equally mysterious reappearance of those items in unlikely locations.  I suspect it is the Wee Folk.  Do I feel this to be true because I'm of predominantly Irish descent?  It might be a factor.  There is also Native American Indian heritage, Cherokee, in my family tree.  Those are two very strong, mystical races who believe(d) in the natural cycles of Mother Earth, respect(ed) the Four Elements of Earth, Fire, Water and Air, and also believe(d) in the presence of magical beings.  The Irish call them the Wee Folk.  "The Cherokee call them Nunne hi (forgive me for not being able to place the proper diacritic pronunciation marks on that word - blogspot word processing tools do not accommodate that at this time), or the 'immortals', and believed they lived near running water sources"...springs, waterfalls, rivers and lakes. (The Folklore of Faeries, Gary R. Varner, AuthorsDen)

I live in East Tennessee, which is graced with endless fresh, fast running water sources.  Much of the geological makeup of this area is sandstone and limestone, which not only provide a purification process for water as it trickles through the sediment and layers of the aquifers, but also harbor quartz rock crystal.  Quartz crystal, my friends, is a conductor of energy.  It is scientifically proven to have a measurable electrical signal of very precise frequency (Wikipedia), which is why it is commonly used to regulate clocks and wristwatches. 

Can you tell I've given this topic a lot of thought?  Why did the Native Americans believe that the Nunne hi inhabited the land surrounding fast running, fresh water sources?  Why did the subsequent Irish immigrants who came and settled this area also believe that the Wee Folk were in evidence here?  Could it be possible that back then, when there were no machines to mask sounds or deaden our natural senses, that Native Man and other races who respected the Old Ways might have been more in tune with the cycles of Nature than we are able to achieve today?  Could it be that the surrounding geological makeup of certain regions provide(d) a frequency that, perhaps, thinned the doorway between dimensions and allowed those with certain sensitivity to "see" these beings?  In olden days, this ability was called having "The Sight" in the Smoky Mountains and in the Old Country - in this case, Ireland.

These are just my own ruminations on the topic.  I can't prove any of it, but I do see some connecting points in my theory and in many of the ones I have researched over the years.  I know that I have regularly experienced those odd moments of personal items disappearing and reappearing that convince me there is more afoot than my modern age eyes and senses can quite grasp.  So, in my own unique way, I choose to be open to the possibility that the Wee Folk exist.  When something disappears in my home, I've learned to be patient, maybe have a lighthearted conversation or two with the Invisible Ones who may be using that item for a bit, and eventually it will reappear in one of those random, unlikely locations.  The occurrences are so extremely odd that it tickles my sense of humor to no end. 

Photo courtesy of
Bing images
When I lived in a different apartment about 6 years ago, I had a platinum ring that I wore daily.  One afternoon I took it off, as I did nightly, and placed it in the little crystal bowl that held the few pieces of jewelry I wear daily.  That crystal bowl was in my bedroom, on an antique buffet that doubled as a chest of drawers. The next morning that particular platinum ring was missing.  I looked high and low, scoured the area around the chest where the crystal bowl sat, retraced my steps, searched the clothes I had worn the prior day, even searched my car and the walkway leading to my front door.  The ring was nowhere to be found.    

I acceded to my invisible roommates and stopped searching for the ring, letting them know they were welcome to wear it, admire it, play with it, do whatever they liked and that I looked forward to having it returned when they were finished with it.  You may be reading this and thinking that I am a bit more than eccentric.  If so, that's okay.  You probably have some habits that I would find curious and that you'd probably not be so bold as to write about in public forum; that's what makes us all unique and beautiful.

Getting back to my story about this platinum ring, when I began packing to move from that particular apartment, one afternoon I moved a bar stool from a corner where it had been placed and not moved since the day I moved into that unit.  I had never sat in that bar stool, had never placed anything there, nor had anyone else.  It occupied an awkward spot in the dining room that made it impossible to sit comfortably, so that bar stool just filled that corner, untouched and unmoved.  That day I pulled it out and sneezed from the resulting cloud of dust (okay, I said it sat there, untouched & unmoved...I'm not that vigilant about dusting unused furniture).  I lifted the stool to carry it to another spot and saw a sparkle on the cushion. 

You guessed it....right slap in the center of the bar stool seat cushion was my long lost platinum ring.  Remember, please, that I said that barstool was placed in that awkward spot the day I moved into that apartment and then wasn't shifted a single inch until 2 years later when I was preparing to move - there was no logical explanation for how that ring could have found its way to that spot on its own.  I know I didn't place it there.  In fact, the day I moved into that apartment, I had yet to purchase that platinum ring so it couldn't have been misplaced there during the moving in process. 

This little scenario has played itself out over and over throughout my lifetime with various shiny, sparkly items.  I can only surmise that the Wee Folk who now have drifted into our personal living space become bored within the confines of an apartment environment and seek to entertain themselves with something pretty.  I have rarely "lost" something of this nature permanently.  Indeed, I find that as long as I acknowledge the item is merely being borrowed and graciously encourage the enjoyment of the borrowing, the item generally reappears fairly soon.  The entertaining, often delightful part of the process is the humor that is employed in the reappearance of these items.  They're crafty, the Wee Folk, with how they return things, choosing the most intriguing, exasperating and unexpected moments and locations to drop the item back into my dimension. 

Because I see this as a strong possibility and because I firmly believe in the existence and truth of other mystical beings and magical occurrences, I find that I exude a lightness of Spirit that is attractive to others.  Perhaps they recognize the simple joy that springs from embracing concepts that we most often abandon with childhood years.  Possibly they appreciate that I am willfully, unabashedly and without shame, declaring that magic does exist.  It is certainly a bold statement to make and many will read this and shake their heads in dismay that I, a serious writer, would choose to embrace such concepts, not to mention write about them in public forum. 

I have to throw my two cents in here and tell you that yes, I am a serious writer, but that serious respect for my craft does not prohibit me from expressing, in writing, the beauty that I see in the possibility of magic still existing.  In fact, I feel it demands that I write certain truths, be they delightful, mystical and magical, or more prosaic, occasionally uncomfortable topics such as grief management, or droll ones such as the refusal to follow accepted rules of writing.  My writing style changes with my moods and today, I felt like giving voice to my mystical, spiritual, Story Teller side.

In the forgotten mists of time, we were a different people.  We moved with the seasons, respected the land, embraced the cycles of Nature and, I believe, had much clearer vision to see the realms and dimensions that we are now, sadly, nearly blind and numb to.  A few of us, however, retain some small divining spark that allows us to still sense tiny indications of magic.  Some of us notice what others claim as common forgetfulness and/or being careless with possessions to actually be the proof that mystical beings and magic are still afoot. 

This topic was prompted by a recent conversation with a girlfriend in social media format that gave me "fizzies" (happy, warm, bubbly inside-ness) in abundance, as we went on a virtual visit of the Emerald City and took a detour to an enchanted dragon cave.  It was a delightful bit of whimsy designed to lift this friend's spirits as she approaches a small hurdle along her Life Path, but it also was a conscious, intentional nod from my inner Spirit to hers, recognizing that yes, magic does exist, still, in both of us.  In that moment, merely having that lovely conversation carried the spark of magic strongly enough to make us both smile, not just that evening, but in my case, well into the following day.  This topic was also prompted by another friend, this time male, who is forever being visited and teased by his particular troop of House Elves - they like his keys, his cell phone, and most recently, his wallet.  This friend recognizes the enchanted part of my Spirit and allows me to speak freely of magic and mystical possibilities.  The two occurrences, with both friends, spaced so closely together in time, nudged me just enough to sit down and tap out these words.

Photo courtesy of
Bing images
Magic, these days, is an elusive element.  It slips teasingly just beyond our fingertips, most often eluding our grasp, wafting lazily beyond reach to lure us forward, to continue continue continue BELIEVING.  I do not feel the beliefs I espouse here in this blog article are in direct contradiction of my faith in God/Universe/Spirit.  I believe that magic and mystical beings are an intrinsic part of the makeup of this beautiful Earth that houses us all, and that all of these things that are seen and not seen with human eyes are all Divinely created.  Magic, and mystical things, therefore, although elusive, are all around us, waiting for us to consciously, willfully, joyfully, simply believe.  That is when they sparkle most brightly, you know, and when they just might pay you a visit and borrow something pretty.  If you welcome that magic and that touch of the mystical with a smile and an open heart, you just might find yourself engaging in sometimes comical, occasionally exasperating, often delightful treasure hunts.  The purpose of having mystical roommates these days, I believe, is simply another friendly reminder to us that, just maybe...magic is afoot. 

Simply believe...and be joyous!

Friday, February 19, 2010

Reagan Generation Tree

If you follow my Healing Morning Facebook Fan Page, or if you've been subscribed to my Healing Morning blog for a while, you'll recognize the photo image here.  It is a view from beneath the sprawling limbs of a huge elm tree on my Grandpa Reagan's property. 

To give you a better perspective of the sheer size of this tree, here is another image.  Forgive the darkness; both photos were taken at twilight.  I was struck by the raw beauty of the barren limbs, stark against the wild, winter sky.

Why is this tree the focus of a blog post?  You see a photo of the land where I was raised, for one thing.  You also see a tree which quietly grew from what my Mother describes as being a small sapling in the field when she and her siblings were young to a truly grand presence.  She is one of nine children who played in the same field where I and my brother, sister and 27 cousins played.  That elm tree, to my way of thinking, raised two generations of Reagan children.  It was the silent sentinel of our childhood years, faithfully kept whispered secrets, harbored grandiose dreams, stood protectively, arms outstretched over afternoon naps, watched us grow into adolescence and witnessed the majority of us marry and have children of our own.

When I was wee, I used to go up to the hayloft of my Grandpa's barn to talk to God.  I just knew God was there, up in the vast space of the hayloft where it was quiet and still, and smelled sweetly of fresh hay in summer months.  Then I learned that snakes and other critters liked the hayloft.  This helpful information convinced me to transplant my talking to God spot to the elm tree.  It was huge, after all, limbs outstretched in a majestic umbrella, sheltering us in summer months to play, dream, climb way up high and practically touch the sky.  It made perfect sense to me that God would love the elm tree as much as I did, and would visit with me there.  Of course, God/Universe is anywhere you choose to look, and I can easily see that Presence in the sheer beauty of that old tree.

At one point in the mid-1970's, the elm tree was struck by lightning and split down the center.  For a time, there was debate as to whether my Grandpa would cut the elm tree down.  Of course, all of the children in the family pleaded for this not to happen, as it was our primary recreation spot and the best climbing tree on the property.  After a time, the tree, amazingly, began to heal itself.  I am of the opinion that this healing took place as much from fervent children's prayers, crossed fingers, sincere applications of Band-Aids and many loving tree hugs, as it did from Nature weaving the sections of the tree back together. The scar remained from the lightning strike, the tree took on the appearance of two separate trunks melded together at the base and continued to stand strong for over 30 more years.  At its most healthy years, it required at least 4 adults, arms outstretched and linked hand-in-hand to circle the vast width of the tree trunk, it was that large.

I continued to visit the elm tree, even after I moved away from home, making it a point to walk out through the field and spend time there.  I always thought that after all the children grew up that the elm tree had to be lonely for the sound of laughter, for the feeling of small feet climbing its limbs, for the exhuberant, loving embraces we all bestowed upon it.  I never left Tennessee without stopping to visit the tree, and bestowing a hug, having a conversation with it and with God, before feeling all was truly right in my world. 

A couple of years ago, we had an unusually rainy year following a long period of drought.  There were many storms with high winds that swept across the side of the ridge where our property, and the elm tree, are located.  I stopped by for a visit late one afternoon and asked my Mom to walk out to the field to see the elm tree.  Reaching the edge of the field, we stopped dead in horror - half of the elm tree had fallen.  Apparently the sheer weight of its large limbs had proven too heavy for the old lightning scar to bear and the lower section of the trunk split free and fell.  The remaining section was still upright, but according to my Uncle who now owns the property, there are plans to cut it down and clear the property.  I admit, without an ounce of embarrassment, that I stood there and cried.  I walked up to the still standing section of my dear old friend and once again spread my arms out for a loving embrace.

Resting my cheek against the smooth bark, I closed my eyes and said a prayer.  I cried some more, and cannot lie - my heart just ached as I leaned against this most faithful of childhood companions.  The fanciful part of my heart wonders and thinks that perhaps the elm tree grew saddened and lonely for company over the years.  With no children to play and climb all over it, no laughter to absorb, no wee arms embracing it with love, maybe the elm tree decided it was time to let go. 

It is my dear hope that I will be able to find some skilled artisan who can take some of the fallen tree trunk and create a piece of furniture, or decorative art, so that I may always have a piece of my childhood protector with me.  The other half of the tree still stands strong in the field, and I continue to visit and say Hello each time I go home.  The time is drawing near when that field will be empty of the all encompassing, mighty presence of that massive elm tree, and that will be a sad day to witness. 

For now, I have written a loving tribute to this old friend.  I cannot stand silently and leave the world wiped clean of the existence of such a beautiful work of God and nature - I felt driven to capture the images here and write the words.  We were raised well by that faithful presence, we Reagan children, and I daresay there is not a single one of us who will be left untouched by the passing of that sheltering, peaceful beauty.  It is our Reagan Generation Tree.  Thankfully, it has been captured in endless photographs.  It is also safe in each of our memories.  To the best of my calculations, it has lived close to 100 years.  And now, you, my readers, can finally understand why my blog posts are hallmarked with the image of the bare branches of this graceful tree, silhouetted against the evening winter sky. 

When you see that image, you see something so dear to my heart that I chose it to represent Healing Morning.  The energy of that old elm tree has always brought me to a powerful place of healing, peace and welcome, and that is the energy I hope is conveyed with this blog.  My blog design is due to change in the coming weeks, but you will always find the image of this elm tree somewhere in connection to my writing.  It is as intrinsically a part of me as my writing and I like the continuity it represents.

Saturday, February 13, 2010

Stackable energy
I believe in energy existing in our lives in a manner that is very logical and has meaning, intent, substance and results from the gift we are given of Free Will.  I also believe that all of the above is helped along with a gentle guiding hand on our respective rudders, nudging us this way, prompting our attention to take that tiny, often overlooked back road, or to hold the door for that stranger, to engage in a seemingly random conversation...all in order to encourage our steps in the next best direction.

Why am I saying all of this?  For the past two years, (and I have mentioned this in several recent blog posts, so forgive the slight repetition here) I have been going through a transition - something I've called an incubation process, and other times I've dubbed it "useful limbo".  The limbo part of the process appears to be rapidly reaching its zenith, because I am now seeing the jumble of experiences, the forays of energy, the textures, sounds and colors all beginning to come together in a bit of a rush.  This gives the impression, at first glance, that everything is happening at once and it can feel overwhelming. 

Don't get me wrong, I am beyond appreciative to see the beginning manifestations...a return...ROI in Law of Attraction terms.  All the earnest energy, all the envisioning and dreaming with clear intent are now returning in their inevitable, beautiful boomerang-like arc from their journey out to God/Universe/Spirit.  I often wonder how that energy that has my own unique Dawn fingerprint journeys outward.  What would the journey look like if I could follow it?  Watch it swoop and sojourn, darting deeply into this well of corresponding energy to match up to that particular word of intent....follow perhaps a more leisurely undulation into mysterious swirling depths of a different energy cloud to gather threads for a completely different intention, marrying it all seamlessly. 

I often imagine this process to be of some musical and energetic expression beyond our three dimensions that creates a harmony to match my own in a manner that is inexpressibly beautiful.  In fact, I doubt that the mere word "beautiful" would be sufficient to match what this dance of light actually creates out there in the Great Unknown where God/Universe/Spirit delights in weaving the threads, sparks and notes together for each of us. 

And so it dallies out there, performing an acrobatic feat beyond our human ken, twirling madly in some areas, drifting as lazily and gently as an autumn leaf in others, collecting the energy with an application of time that fits my unique harmony.  As it begins to return to me, my human mind, my human heart and human eyes see it as wondrous, but also slightly chaotic.  I remind myself constantly that it is just an illusion that the returning energy only seems to be all hitting at once, giving the impression of actions and experiences stacking one on top of the other.  The reality is that the pieces of energy which appear to be rushing at me wildly, clamoring for attention and building up in a tall, narrow tower similar to children's building blocks are actually "stacking" that high to give me a moment to simply stare upward and witness my own creative genius at work. 

I am being given the chance to gaze at this high, narrow tower and see clearly what I have wrought with my own sincere actions, dreams, intentions and words.  I am aware that when I get past the first rush of exhilaration and slight doubts that always accompany each door opening to success, each building block will regally and purposely shift from the tall, narrow tower to place itself in a firm, rock solid foundation.  I believe the energy stacking sensation is merely to call our attention to sharp focus.  I recognize that I have not done all of this alone - that gentle hand on the rudder, that quiet presence that embraces me has been there guiding the thoughts, intentions and dreams as they travel outward and eventually return with purpose.

There are the loving, reassuring whispers that come softly into my heart, and with them a sense of calm.  Do I still feel trepidation?  Yes, to a degree, because I firmly believe that we either feel Love, or we feel Fear.  All emotions are derived from those two true sources.  So, although minor thoughts of slowing the mad rush down exist, much more clearly, there is exhilaration as I recognize that after a lengthy incubation and useful limbo, the time is approaching for forward momentum to fall into place. 

It is occurring as I write this post, with so many energy blocks in that stackable tower that as I tip my head back to gaze upward, I admit to a slight thrill of "What have I done?" type of thinking niggling at the periphery of my conscious mind.  I don't spend much energy focusing on those doubts, as I recognize them to be a natural part of moving forward.  Caution is never a bad partner to take along on any rush into our personal, individual futures.  That being said, I am more inclined to simply stare up at that sparkling, brightly faceted narrow tower of energy and feel an immense satisfaction.  The layers and building blocks soar above me and show me clearly that I am now stepping away from the useful limbo phase into a moment of more mobile, active application of energy.

At this moment, I find it apropos that I am on this brink...full of aspirations and dreams.  This is a time of quiet, that proverbial calm before the storm, and I choose to view the storm as a positive.  It is a storm of energy blocks stacked very high, and as I was a strong hand in the creation of these dreams, I admit to liking how loftily it ascends.  Rather than quailing, I feel a definite sense of sureness and destiny, and overall, that never ending curiosity that drives me onward. 

I also admit to wishing, just once, for a wee glimpse of that energy fingerprint....for a wee moment, to dash outward in tandem into the Great Unknown and be a bit of a tourist....and perhaps I actually do achieve that in a different state.  It is all tied intrinsically together, after all, to produce the individual stories we all choose to live.  I'll be content, though, with wrangling those stackable energy blocks into that solid foundation, and continue to build the Now into a bright experience.

Thursday, February 4, 2010

Unripened fruit, sparkles & twinkles
When choosing fruit, what type of person are you?  Say it's an apple, or a peach - do you go for the riper fruit that's juicy and soft when you bite into it?  Or do you prefer crispy, firm fruit that is crunchy and tart on the tongue with that first bite?  I'm of the latter preference - the crispier and crunchier, the more tart and tangy, the better.  In fact, when fruit gets riper and softer, it is immediately consigned to my freezer for an eventual smoothie.  I just don't like it when it gets soft and juicy. 

My Mom, in fact, has been quoted as saying, "When I look for fruit for my daughter, Dawn, I pick the pieces that could be used as a substitute for a hockey puck or baseball, and I know she'll be happy."  My Mom, by the way, is on the opposite end of the spectrum and adores juicy, ripe fruit....peaches that almost dissolve at the first bite, bananas that have turned brown and are extremely soft and sweet. 

You're sitting there reading this and wondering what my point is, aren't you?  I recently posted a response to one of those fun Blog Awards (Blog Award Positivity) that has you list favorite blogs and then list some personal info.  One of the comments I received was from a lovely new friend, Lisa Brandel, author of The Widow Lady blog.  The following was the wonderful comment she left for me:

"I started following you a while back, both here and on Twitter. Your Tweets are little sprinkles of happy dust in the virtual world...and now that I have actually had time to read your blog...I see that same sparkle here too. Much love dear and thank you for sharing this special energy with the virtual world!"  Lisa Brandel, The Widow Lady blog
You may see this as bit of self-aggrandizement, to publish such a nicely written, complementary Comment.  I won't argue the fact that it made me very happy to read Lisa's comment, but I don't feel using it as a source of inspiration is necessarily blowing my own horn overly loudly.  What Lisa's comment made me contemplate, and be appreciative of, is how determinedly I have chosen to stay true to myself.  It hasn't always been easy over the years. 

The plain truth is, most people fit into the juicy, squishy fruit category and I'm way over on the other end of the proverbial see-saw, dangling high up there in mid-air, simply because it's usually just me over on that end.  I think differently than most, and I'm quite aware of that.  It took some time for me to fully embrace my own quirks and unique traits, and quite a bit of courage to give them voice back in my early twenties.  Now, at this point in my life, I am simply Me.  I revel in the fact that I prefer slightly (okay, completely) unripe fruit, that I find Divine Presence most often outside of a brick and mortar church, that I firmly believe in the presence of magical moments, and that my uniqueness quite often makes others stop, pause and occasionally view the world through my different perspective. 

I also cannot ignore the fact that many times, people observe my point of view and declare quite roundly that I'm lacking in judgment, that I'm too idealistic, too romantic, or any manner of negatives.  (Personally, I find most of those to be compliments, with the exception of the lacking in judgement one.)  I generally just smile at those types and keep living my life as works best for me.  There's old mountain wisdom that says, "Nobody beats a dead dog."  This means that if you're alive and making your mark in the world, you're going to get kudos and you're also going to meet those that simply aren't going to be fans.  I have come to know that naysayers, in a rather quirky way, are a bit of a pat on the back for me to remember that, yep, I'm still on the right path!

I don't expect others to necessarily adopt my choices, or beliefs, or tastes.  Very few prefer the extra tart, crunchy fruit side of life, and that's okay.  I see beautiful balance in my own life and how I have come to a comfortable acceptance and enjoyment of who I am.  And, if I'm fortunate, occasionally someone like Lisa Brandel, or a small handful of other dear friends - you all know who you are - read my work and recognize, as Lisa so eloquently described, a twinkle and sparkle in my message.  I do, quite intentionally, "sprinkle happy dust" into my blog articles, my Twitter and Facebook posts.  It makes me happy to do so, just from a personal point of view.  It tickles me beyond words when a kindred spirit recognizes the sprinkles of happy dust and takes a moment to comment on same.  That's just pure fun...there is no other way to describe it. 

Perhaps another quote fits what I am attempting to communicate here.  It is by one of my absolute favorite authors and poets:

"When two close kindred meet, what better than call a dance?”  William Butler Yeats
There are moments when I as a writer am happy to admit that another has woven together words in such a lyrical fashion that not only could I not improve upon it, but that I am, in that moment of reading, transported.  Lisa Brandel's words above, in my opinion, gave a very accurate thumb nail sketch of who I am as a writer, as a person, and what I strive to communicate in written format.  It delighted me that she felt this kinship and Yeats' quote immediately came to mind to highlight that moment of shared, enjoyed whimsy. Lisa also writes with a rich hand to her words, and I encourage you to visit her blog, read, and follow.

I am a lighthearted Soul, and although it may sound contradictory, I am also deeply introspective, diving to the depths of a given topic, emotion or thought and spending endless hours observing, thinking and experiencing.  I rarely look at anything at surface level - I remain curious about most things under the sun.  I feel deeply, I love deeply and I write with an attempt to give voice to the wild, tempestuous feelings that clamor inside my heart to be written down. 

Some days, I am happy and feel that I have succeeded in this goal.  Other days, I am like anyone else, critical of my efforts and finding them sadly lacking.  On those days in the future, I shall remember Lisa Brandel's happy nod and kind words; I shall automatically recall the equally lovely quote of Mr. Yeats.  On the heels of all of the above, I will remind myself that I like crispy, crunchy, tart, not-quite-ripe fruit and also that I write with a sparkling shower of happy dust radiating from my proverbial pen....because that's just who I am...unripened fruit, sparkles and twinkles and so much more.  Perhaps you, also, are a close kindred one and will join in the dance, partake of a bit of fruit, and share in the burst of sparkles that ensue.

Monday, February 1, 2010

Blog Award Positivity

I am taking a page from my Authentic Blogger partner, Marty D's book and addressing several wonderful blogging awards in one fell swoop.  Please forgive me for not following, to the letter, the details of each Blog Award - this was the easiest approach I could come up with that would allow me to thank all the people who gave me these kind awards.

I guess I'm going to end up creating a new, amalgamated version of all these cool Blog Awards with this format.  Some of them asked me to list 7-10 of my current favorite blogs and reasons why I like each one.  I'll compromise and list 8.  Following that, the next instruction was to list 10 things I love, 10 things that many don't know about me, and a few others that I can't remember at the moment. I'll list my 8 blogs first and get to the other stuff directly after.  I admit freely that I am guilty of favoritism with the following blogs - these are the ones I visit most often, in no particular order.

1. Bill Bruner, Journey to Joy Bill writes thoughtful posts on a regular basis with what I call Dad Wisdom in his words.  I have come to count on his daily take on various topics.

2. Tony Anders Artisan of the Human Spirit Tony writes with a spiritual awareness that speaks to my own heart.  He also writes with a twinkle in his eye and invites the reader to enjoy the vagaries of life along with him.

3.  Marty D. Coffee with Marty  My co-hort in all things bloggish, Marty's Coffee approach is his ruminations on the world through the eyes of a 20 year old who is far wiser than his linear years.  He enjoys life and also writes with that delightful quirky humor that appeals to me.

4.  Irma Kaye Sawyer The Bright Star Blog You know how, every once in a while, you are blessed to connect to someone who "speaks your own language"?  Irma Kaye is such a soul and her blog addresses spiritual and healing concepts. 

5.  Chip Etier Etier Photography  This wiley Cajun is now transplanted to the Highlands of North Carolina.  His blog is devoted to his wonderful photography - I encourage everyone to visit and become enraptured with his images.  He is a true artist, both of written word and capturing life on film.

6.  Jenn Boyer Learning How Jenn's Learning How blog is a wonderful "How To" tool for bloggers at all levels of expertise.  She is my favorite girl in more ways than I can express, most of all because I admire her writing talent and her ability to translate IT verbiage to those of us who stubbornly remain IT illiterate!

7.  David Karasek Everyday Hypnosis David's blog is a new one to me, but I have long been a proponent of therapeutic hypnosis to address a wide range of issues.  Check his page out - fascinating stuff!

8.  Anahid Boghosian Fireside Moments Anahid writes with such lyrical beauty.  I enjoy her Fireside posts a great deal.  She also leaves wonderful comments when she visits your blog!

Okay, so....what fun list to create as a finishing touch?  How about 10 Things On My Mind Right Now:

1. I just learned a cousin has committed to running a half-marathon in Chattanooga for charity.  I am impressed!  I shall, however, refrain from signing up for same, as I am not a marathon type, even of the 1/2 variety.

2. I have decided that cornbread, the true southern kind, made in a cast iron skillet will be on the menu tonight.  Did you know, btw, that in the state of TN, it is illegal to make corn bread in any cooking vessel other than a cast iron skillet?  True fact and state law, going back to 1792 and punishable by a whopping $1.50 fine.   

3.  There are just days where fuzzy socks, sweats and a ponytail do a girl good.  Today is that day.  Fuzzy socks are of the lavender w/ darker purple stripes description.

4.  I rediscovered an old love this week, and it is taking time to meditate with healing energy focused on friends in another location.  As with all forms of loving energy and prayer, as much is received as is given!

5.  I spent some time chatting w/ my Mom today, as I do everyday, and for this, I am abundantly blessed.  My Mom makes me laugh, lifts me up, loves me unconditionally and is just an all around beautiful person.

6.  The last time I looked outside, the sky was being painted with glorious sunset colors.  Bleeding scarlets, soft rosy washes and peach shadows are now surrendering to the darker lavender lights of twilight.  It is beautiful as I gaze out my office window.

7.  Crocheting, my friends, is an art form that appears to still be well appreciated!  I have been told that Scarf Love by Dawn (coined that phrase a week or so ago) products have mysterious, magnetic powers to attract the opposite sex.  Who knew?!

8.  Nothing is so bad, in the whole wide world as we know it, that a long, heartfelt, close, warm HUG cannot mitigate.  In fact, I firmly believe Hug Therapy is more powerful than anyone truly can imagine.  Have you hugged anyone today?  If not, get cracking - time's a-wasting!!!

9.  Music is on my mind, as it generally is.  Hammered dulcimer music, to be specific, which is unique to the Smoky Mountains (and probably many other regions).  It is simply beyond words, the beauty of listening to it.

10.  I am, with this final thought, thankful for the fact that I am blessed with wonderful blogging friends who find my work at Healing Morning and Authentic Blogger to be of a quality that merits bestowing of awards.  Writing fills my soul with joy, and the fact that others recognize and appreciate my efforts with same makes me smile.  How can I consider myself anything but abundantly blessed?!  It is so...blessings abound.