Life can be long or short,
it all depends on how you choose to live it.
It’s like forever; always changing.
For any of us our forever could end in an hour,
or a hundred years from now.
You can never know for sure,
so you’d better make every second count.
What you have to decide is how you want your life to be.
If your forever was ending tomorrow,
is this how you’d want to have spent it?
From “The Truth About Forever” by Sarah Dessen
inspiration
Seize Every Minute
If I had my life to live over, I would have talked less and listened more.
I would have invited friends over to dinner even if the carpet was stained and the sofa faded.
I would have eaten the popcorn in the ‘good’ living room and worried much less about the dirt when someone wanted to light a fire in the fireplace.
I would have taken the time to listen to my grandfather ramble about his youth.
I would never have insisted the car windows be rolled up on a summer day because my hair had just been teased and sprayed.
I would have burned the pink candle sculpted like a rose before it melted in storage.
I would have sat on the lawn with my children and not worried about grass stains.
I would have cried and laughed less while watching television – and more while watching life.
I would have shared more of the responsibility carried by my husband.
I would have gone to bed when I was sick instead of pretending the earth would go into a holding pattern if I weren’t there for the day.
I would never have bought anything just because it was practical, wouldn’t show soil or was guaranteed to last a lifetime.
Instead of wishing away nine months of pregnancy, I’d have cherished every moment and realized that the wonderment growing inside me was the only chance in life to assist God in a miracle.
When my kids kissed me impetuously, I would never have said, “Later. Now go get washed up for dinner.”
There would have been more “I love you’s”.. More “I’m sorrys” …
But mostly, given another shot at life, I would seize every minute… look at it and really see it … live it…and never give it back.
“If I Had My Life To Live Over” written by the late Erma Bombeck after she found out she had a fatal disease.
Life shrinks or expands
in proportion to one’s courage.
Anais Nin
Life Is Not A Race
Life is something you can not fake
you live and learn from each mistake
Sunny days or cloudy skies
Happy Greetings or Sad Goodbyes
So don’t sit by and let time pass
Live each day like your last.
This is something that you must do
if you expect to grow and stick it through
All the sadness all the pain wash
it away like the rain.
Fast or slow whatever your pace
take your time life is not a race.
Time Will Pass by Janelle
I’m grateful for Monday and a new week. Time to do some ‘good livin’!
An Examined Life
Experience has taught me to stay aware of my words, behavior, habits and values. There was a time when what I thought, said and did shaped who I became. Ironically, I found a point where I did not like what I saw, changed a good bit of it and grew past some old ways of being. The metamorphosis took years, but now I live an examined life of intentional awareness. I am grateful to know that living any other way was me just drifting aimlessly along.
Change is inevitable.
Growth is intentional.
Glenda Cloud
A Better Me
The saying goes “if only to not know what I now know”. It is in gaining knowledge that we actually lose a good bit of our self. The more know-how a person assimilates the more narrow their perspective generally becomes.
It’s been written that we are quite young when creativity erodes. For example, one train of thought says by three or four years of age we have already learned that a square block will not sit easily atop a pyramid. It was recently reported in another instance that painters created their most valued work around 61.8% of their life or about 42 years of age on average.
Here are a few other stats from a Prosumer Report survey of 7,213 adults in 19 countries:
It seems a bit odd to me that these stats show women peaking at a later age in five of six capacities. That brings me to the point I am ultimately headed toward: Statistics are just numbers and individuals rarely fit consistently into them. There is only the “Norm” (50.1%) the “Deviant” (49.9%). None of us fit neatly on any list of numbers. We are uniquely “our self”. Trying to fit into what is ‘Normal’ is a complete waste of time. The only potential each person has is to be the best version of them self.
Certainly after a point we humans “wear-out”. However, exactly what begins to fade, and when, frequently has as much to do with choices as it does with genetics and age. When our capacities begin to diminish it is often because we did not use them enough. ‘Use it or lose it’, as they say. One of the biggest culprits here is the simple pattern of habits. Once we start doing something one way, we get comfortable with it and then do not change or vary it.
Tomorrow I begin the first of fifty sessions with a person trainer. This time I am more committed than ever before. Just going to the gym won’t be enough. My eating habits will change as will getting exercise, even if just walking, on my non-gym days. I am grateful to be in good health and still able to work on becoming a better me.
We all start out knowing magic. We are born with whirlwinds, forest fires, and comets inside us. We are born able to sing to birds and read the clouds and see our destiny in grains of sand. But then we get the magic educated right out of our souls. We get it churched out, spanked out, washed out, and combed out. We get put on the straight and narrow and told to be responsible. Told to act our age. Told to grow up, for God’s sake. And you know why we were told that? Because the people doing the telling were afraid of our wildness and youth, and because the magic we knew made them ashamed and sad of what they’d allowed to wither in themselves. Robert R. McCammon
Am I Too Nice?
Although I grew up in a family where the opposite was usually true it’s my intention to always be a gentleman, especially to women. However, I have begun to think I am just too “nice”. Andrew Moore wrote an on-line article on askmen.com that seems to confirm my self-view.
We’re taught from a very early age that being nice is a virtue. From the time we were infants, our parents told us to “be nice.” They taught us to be polite and to share, and to be considerate and kind. For the most part, it’s good advice.
In a relationship, as in life, it’s possible to be too considerate, too helpful and too selfless. There are signs you’re too nice, and we can help you recognize them. Whether you’re pursuing a woman or you’ve already got one, when you’re too nice it can prevent you from having the relationship you really want. Women appreciate a gentleman, but they don’t respect pushovers. So which one are you? Review our signs you’re too nice and find out for yourself.
1- You’re too respectful: In most social situations, good manners and respect for other people will get you pretty far. The woman in your life, in particular, deserves respect; however, while every woman appreciates a gentleman, there are certain arenas in which you can be too respectful. Being too respectful between the sheets is one of the signs you’re too nice. In the bedroom, women appreciate spontaneity, assertiveness and a sense of adventure. Your girlfriend or wife doesn’t want you to be delicate or tentative in the bedroom. She wants passion.
2- You’re too interested: If you’re unfailingly interested by every little thing your wife or girlfriend does, it’s another sign you’re too nice. Yes, you want to take an interest in her career, her family and her hobbies, but it’s a bad sign if you’re more interested in her life than you are in your own. Not only will she eventually get tired of you sticking your nose in her business, but your excessive interest in her will ultimately make you boring.
3– You’re too complimentary: Every woman loves to be complimented, but every woman also wants your compliments to be genuine. Once you start telling her how beautiful she is six times a day, the words lose all meaning. There are times when your wife or girlfriend is going to look like a showstopper. She doesn’t want to hear how beautiful her eyes are when they’re actually glassy and bloodshot. Give her compliments consistently, but sparingly; that way they’ll be more meaningful.
4- You’re too understanding: It’s unfashionable these days to be too judgmental; tolerance and acceptance are the cardinal virtues of the modern era. That’s great, but one can be too understanding and that’s another one of the signs you’re too nice. It’s a fact of life: Some people suck, and even good people do bad things from time to time. Trying to “understand” another person’s point of view as he or she walks all over you isn’t tolerant; it’s spineless. Sometimes you have to stand up for yourself.
5- You’re too cheerful: The last of our signs you’re too nice has to do with your mood. If you’re smiling and cheery all the time, you’re too nice. Everyone gets pissed off once in a while. Getting angry or upset at appropriate times isn’t a sign of instability; it’s a sign you’re a man. http://www.askmen.com/dating/curtsmith_200/248_dating_advice.html
Well. let’s see. My score of being too “nice” is three and a half out of five. Hmmm… too high. I am grateful that I am open to accepting it and realize this is just one of a myriad of ways I can yet evolve and mature. No, I won’t turn into an assH@le. I’ll grow toward “being just right”.
Being a Nice Guy, doesn’t mean you are a push over.
It also doesn’t mean you are easy to manipulate
or take advantage of. No, being a Nice Guy
simply means you care…
And despite living in the shadow of the bad guys
and paying for mistakes you didn’t make,
you hold on sometimes more than you should,
but when you can no longer, you move on
because it’s the right thing to do.
Eugene Nathaniel Butler
Just Feed One
Play it forward is an expression for describing the beneficiary of a good deed repaying it to others instead of to the original benefactor. The concept “pay it forward” is old, but the phrase is believed to have been coined by Lily Hardy Hammond in her 1916 book In the Garden of Delight. Here’s a slightly different twist on ‘play/pay it forward’:
We enter a little coffeehouse with a friend of mine and give our order. While we’re approaching our table two people come in and they go to the counter: ‘Five coffees, please. Two of them for us and three suspended’ They pay for their order, take the two and leave. I ask my friend: “What are those ‘suspended’ coffees?” My friend: “Wait for it and you will see.” Some more people enter. Two girls ask for one coffee each, pay and go. The next order was for seven coffees and it was made by three lawyers – three for them and four ‘suspended’.
While I still wonder what’s the deal with those ‘suspended’ coffees I enjoy the sunny weather and the beautiful view towards the square in front of the café. Suddenly a man dressed in shabby clothes who looks like a beggar comes in through the door and kindly asks ‘Do you have any suspended coffee?’ It’s simple – people pay in advance for a coffee meant for someone who can not afford a warm beverage. The tradition with the suspended coffees started in Naples, but it has spread all over the world and in some places you can order not only a suspended coffee, but also a sandwich or a whole meal.
Wouldn’t it be wonderful to have such cafés or even grocery stores in every town where the less fortunate will find hope and support? If you own a business why don’t you offer it to your clients… I am sure many of them will like it.” very respectfully, Scott Sonnon www.facebook.com/ScottSonnon
Here and there I ‘pay/play it forward’ but not nearly as much as my heart and soul wishes I would. So here at the start of a sparkling new year, I commit to myself to share my fortunate life more with the world, without expectation. Yet, I know whatever I give will come back to me multiplied. I am grateful.
If you can’t feed
a hundred people,
then just feed one.
Mother Teresa
Carry on, Santa, it’s Christmas Day, All Secure…
Readily I admit I fought through watery eyes to get this retyped here. Though I did not serve in the military, I have known many good men and women who did. While the poem was written specifically by a Marine for Marines, I have placed it here as a tribute to all military men and women, past and present. I honor and thank you. By your efforts I am able to celebrate Christmas quietly and without fear.
“Merry Christmas, My Friend”
T’was the night Before Christmas, he lived all alone,
In a one bedroom house made of plaster and stone.
I had come down the chimney with presents to give
and to see just who in this home did live.
I looked all about, a strange sight did I see,
no tinsel, no presents, not even a tree,
No stockings by the mantle, just boots filled with sand,
On the wall hung pictures of a far distant land.
With medals and badges, awards of all kinds,
a sobering thought soon came to my mind.
For this house was different, unlike any I’d seen,
This was the home of a U.S. Marine.
I heard stories about them, I had to see more
so I walked down the hall and pushed open the door.
And there he lay sleeping, silent, alone,
Curled up on the floor in his one-bedroom home.
He seemed so gentle, his face so serene,
Not how I pictured a U.S. Marine.
Was this the hero, of whom I’d just read,
Curled up in his poncho, a floor for his bed?
His head was clean-shaven, his weathered face tan,
I soon understood this was more than a man.
For I realized the families that I saw that night
owed their lives to these men, who were willing to fight.
Soon around the Nation, the children would play,
And grown-ups would celebrate on a bright Christmas day.
They all enjoyed freedom, each month and all year,
because of Marines like this one lying here.
I couldn’t help wonder how many lay alone
on a cold Christmas Eve, in a land far from home.
Just the very thought brought a tear to my eye
I dropped to my knees and I started to cry.
He must have awoken, for I heard a rough voice,
“Santa, don’t cry, this life is my choice.
I fight for freedom, I don’t ask for more.
My life is my God, my country, my Corps.”
With that he rolled over, drifted into sleep
I couldn’t control it, I continued to weep.
I watched him for hours, so silent and still
I noticed he shivered from the cold nights chill.
I took off my jacket, the one made of red,
and I covered this Soldier from his toes to his head.
Then I put on his T-shirt of scarlet and gold,
with an eagle, globe and anchor emblazoned so bold.
And although it barely fit me, I began to swell with pride,
and for one shining moment, I was Marine Corps deep inside.
I didn’t want to leave him so quiet in the night,
this guardian of honor so willing to fight.
But half asleep he rolled over and in a voice clean and pure,
said, “Carry on, Santa, it’s Christmas Day, all secure.”
One look at my watch and I knew he was right
Merry Christmas my friend, Semper Fi and good night.
Although attributed to many and often amended, what I have included here is the original poem in its original form written by James M. Schmidt in 1986. In December 2002, he set the record straight about the poem’s origin when he wrote “The true story is that while a Lance Corporal serving as Battalion Counter Sniper at the Marine Barracks 8th and I, Washington, DC, under Commandant P.X. Kelly and Battalion Commander D.J. Myers, I wrote this poem to hang on the door of the Gym in BEQ. When Colonel Myers came upon it, he read it and immediately had copies sent to each department at the Barracks and promptly dismissed the entire battalion early for Christmas leave. The poem was placed that day in the Marine Corps Gazette, distributed worldwide and later submitted to Leatherneck Magazine”.
Please share this blog with others in honor of our veterans and soldiers.
From the bitter cold winter at Valley Forge,
to the mountains of Afghanistan and the deserts of Iraq,
our soldiers have courageously answered when called,
gone where ordered, and defended our nation with honor.
Solomon Ortiz
Posted originally on Christmas 2012
Yes, Virginia, There is a Santa Claus
Virginia was the daughter of Dr. Philip O’Hanlon, a coroner’s assistant on the Upper West Side of Manhattan. In answer to her question “is there really a Santa Claus” her father suggested she write to a New York City newspaper called The Sun.
Virginia’s letter found its way to one of the paper’s editors named Francis P. Church who wrote the now famous response. His answer to Virgina remains today as the most reprinted editorial ever to run in any English language newspaper.
Dear Editor—
I am 8 years old. Some of my little friends say there is no Santa Claus. Papa says, “If you see it in The Sun, it’s so.” Please tell me the truth, is there a Santa Claus?
Virginia O’HanlonSeptember 21, 1897
Virginia,
Your little friends are wrong. They have been affected by the skepticism of a skeptical age. They do not believe except they see. They think that nothing can be which is not comprehensible by their little minds. All minds,Virginia, whether they be men’s or children’s, are little. In this great universe of ours, man is a mere insect, an ant, in his intellect as compared with the boundless world about him, as measured by the intelligence capable of grasping the whole of truth and knowledge.Yes, Virginia, there is a Santa Claus. He exists as certainly as love and generosity and devotion exist, and you know that they abound and give to your life its highest beauty and joy. Alas! how dreary would be the world if there were no Santa Claus! It would be as dreary as if there were no Virginias. There would be no childlike faith then, no poetry, no romance to make tolerable this existence. We should have no enjoyment, except in sense and sight. The eternal light with which childhood fills the world would be extinguished.
Not believe in Santa Claus! You might as well not believe in fairies. You might get your papa to hire men to watch in all the chimneys on Christmas eve to catch Santa Claus, but even if you did not see Santa Claus coming down, what would that prove? Nobody sees Santa Claus, but that is no sign that there is no Santa Claus. The most real things in the world are those that neither children nor men can see. Did you ever see fairies dancing on the lawn? Of course not, but that’s no proof that they are not there. Nobody can conceive or imagine all the wonders there are unseen and unseeable in the world.
You tear apart the baby’s rattle and see what makes the noise inside, but there is a veil covering the unseen world which not the strongest man, nor even the united strength of all the strongest men that ever lived could tear apart. Only faith, poetry, love, romance, can push aside that curtain and view and picture the supernal beauty and glory beyond. Is it all real? Ah,Virginia, in all this world there is nothing else real and abiding.
No Santa Claus! Thank God! he lives and lives forever. A thousand years from now,Virginia, nay 10 times 10,000 years from now, he will continue to make glad the heart of childhood.
Many have questioned if Virigina’s original letter actually ever existed thinking it was only fiction created by Francis Church as a basis for his editorial. However, the original letter written by Virginia O’Hanlon was authenticated in 1998 by an appraiser on the Antiques Roadshow and valued at $20,000–$30,000.
I’m grateful for the swell in my chest the little boy inside finds in reading Church’s reply to Virginia over a hundred years ago. The spirit of Santa Claus will always be with me.
There’s more to the truth than just the facts. ~Author Unknown
First posted here on December 19, 2011
Always Worth Another Try
A family member posted found this story and posted it
on Facebook a few days ago (Thanks Ann). It touched my heart.
She married him today. At the end of the wedding party, her mother gave her a newly opened bank savings passbook, with $1000 deposited in it. She told her, “My dear daughter, take this passbook. Keep it as a record of your married life. Whenever something happy and memorable happens in your new life, put some money in. Write down what it’s about next to the amount. The more memorable the event is, the more money you can put in. I’ve done the first one for you today. Do the others with your husband. When you look back after years, you will know how much happiness you’ve both shared.’
She shared this with him after getting home. Both of them thought it was a great idea and couldn’t wait to make the next deposit! This is what the passbook looked like after a while: – 7 Feb: $100, his first birthday celebration after marriage – 1 Mar: $300, she gets a salary raise – 20 Mar: $200, vacation to Bali – 15 Apr: $2000, She’s pregnant! – 1 Jun: $1000, He gets the big promotion and so on… However, as the years went by, they began fighting and arguing over trivial things. They didn’t talk much. They regretted that they had married the most nasty person in the world…There was no more love.
One day she talked to her Mother. ‘Mom, we can’t stand it anymore. We have decided to divorce. I can’t imagine how I decided to marry this guy!’ Her mother replied, ‘Sure, that’s no big deal. Just do whatever you want, if you really can’t stand it. But before that, do one thing. Remember the savings passbook I gave you on your wedding day? Take out all money and spend it first. You shouldn’t keep any record of such a poor marriage.’ She agreed with her. So she went to the bank, and was waiting in the queue to cancel the account. While she was waiting, she took a look at the passbook record. She looked, and looked, and looked. Then the memory of all the previous joyful moments came back to her. Her eyes were filled with tears. She left and went home.
When she got home, she handed the passbook to him and asked him to spend the money before getting divorced. So the next day, he went to the bank, and was waiting in the queue to cancel the account. While he was waiting, he took a look at the passbook record. He looked, and looked, and looked. Then the memory of all the previous joyful moments came back to him. His eyes were filled with tears. He left and went home. He gave the passbook back to her. She found a new deposit of $5000. And a line next to the record: ‘This is the day I realized how much I’ve loved you throughout all these years. How much happiness you’ve brought me.’ They hugged and cried, putting the passbook back into the safe.
Whether the story is based on fact or not is meaningless. What matters is its essence. True love can be messed up, lost in chaos and left behind far too easily. I am grateful for the message the story left me with: “love is almost always worth another try”.
We come to love
not by finding a perfect person,
but by learning to see
an imperfect person perfectly.
Sam Keen
Good Morning Gratitude 