"but for me, it is like a painter standing in front of a blank canvas and not saying, 'i want to paint something someone will buy,' but instead saying, 'i want to paint something beautiful.'
--wayne kirkpatrick
"it is never too late to be what you might have been."
--george elliot
"whatever you are, be a good one."
--abraham lincoln
"all the things that have ever deeply possessed your soul have been but hints of it--tantalizing glimpses, promises never quite fulfilled, echoes that died away just as they caught your ear. but if it should really become manifest--if there ever came an echo that did not die away but swelled into the sound itself--you would know it. beyond all possibility of doubt you would say 'here at last is the thing i was made for.'"
--c.s.lewis
"do not go where the path may lead, go instead where there is no path and leave a trail."
--ralph waldo emerson
"a storyteller has the task of running behind the lines to make sure the stories live, to make sure that those [...]
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i recently stumbled across this when going through some piles...
"there is such a thing as experiencing the 'realness of the moment'....it's giving the heart a chance to feel--it's letting someone laugh and cry--it's freedom. and, it's embracing life and savoring the moment. i say we really don't let today inspire us until we realize it'll never come again. we can lose ourselves and all of our inadequate feelings and focus in on something incredibly bigger than ourselves. it can happen. and, when it does, we're left changed."
i thought if i didn't unpack my suitcase, that that would mean i wouldn't have to stay.
my suitcase stayed packed for a good solid year, i think.
i was certain i was just visiting--(like the jail in the game of monopoly)--just passing through--
ten years have come and gone, and my heart has still not unpacked itself.
i think it must know where it belongs somehow.
where it feels at home.
it's some kind of an odd pulling.
a pulling like the steering wheel of a car has when the tires need balancing or rotating.
i finally just threw that old suitcase away.
it quit zipping.
random thoughts from journal entries that i jot down from time to time, again, randomly...
well...this speciific very random jotting down of thoughts could be entitled "TELEMARKETERS", though i don't usually entitle my journal entries...just start with the date and the number journal entry it happens to be--but, i'm sort of just finding myself jotting "randoms" anywhere--sort of like when i jot down song lyrics or song ideas. so that's that....
"my mom has me answer all the telemarketing phone calls--i tell them ALL about my being ill for over 10 years and it seems to kill 2 birds with 1 stone.
1) they usually never call again.
and....
2) it gives me another outlet to unload and vent and process--sort of like FREE therapy sessions"
after my mom left with my little nephews for the 5:00 early evening christmas service, sad that i was unable to go, i knew that i wanted to have my own christmas service in my heart.
so, i turned the heat way down, opened the sliding glass door to the deck, and just let in the cold air.
i put on michael w. smith's first christmas cd and lit a cinnamon bark candle.
i sat on the ottoman where we usually have a real christmas tree standing...all lit up and covered with ornaments that bring years of memories to mind. i sure would have rather had a real christmas tree standing there instead--but with my being so ill, it just didn't work out this year.
so, i sat there right in the opening, letting the wonderful crisp air fill my lungs--and i got to enjoy the early night sky--watching it go from shades of blue to black, as i sipped and slurped on little chocolate liqueurs.
and i enjoyed the stillness and the quiet and looking up into the evening sky--with christmas songs ushering my weary [...]
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