The fallacy of forgiveness is that when we seek it, that action alone is equal to redemption.
It was three-plus hours of cardio, that made my heart pump and sing.
Within minutes I thought these men could be women. I never heard men talk about the same things as women do.
Of course, there are a few things missing, from turning on the radio to peeing and trips out to the trash, but that is pretty close to what I expected and intended my Saturday to be.
“Pursue the things you love doing and then do them so well that people can’t take their eyes off of you.” Maya Angelou I was looking for inspiration. Craving more…
Frequency. Yes, that is the perfect word. The correct word. Frequency is directly correlated to balance.
I collected more than 1,000 stragglers in March. Straggled thoughts composed of words that I extracted before the post was published.
There is nothing selfish by withholding our own light from leeches. You can’t enjoy life when others suck the life right of you!
Once we got situated, it took about 20 minutes. I worked it out and brushed her hair until all of its caramel-color shined through, her long locks were as smooth as my satin bedspread.
This morning the alarm went off in the middle of a dream. It startled me. It’s been quite a while since I woke up to practice yoga on a Friday morning. It felt good to be back into my Friday routine.
I thought of that concept this morning. Blissful ignorance. It would be nice to remove the thoughts that taint our opinion of others. Nice is an understatement, in fact, it’s life-changing. I found a way to do that on Monday.
It is your year, too. So enjoy it. Own it. And by God, do what Oscar said, “Be yourself. Everybody else is already taken.”
Acknowledging and accepting what we have; isn’t that what this day is about? A savior was born in a manger on Christmas Eve because his parents didn’t say no. Mary and Joseph didn’t cut and run. They didn’t resist, they humbly accepted the scene as God presented it, and what a gift they gave us.
“One of the greatest discoveries a person makes is to find they can do what they were afraid they couldn’t do.” Henry Ford Last Tuesday, my yoga instructor Jeannine announced…
I visited my surgeon’s office the next day, where I gladly assumed rabbit pose to make the hernia appear. My surgeon felt it. We scheduled surgery. I’m hopeful that tomorrow’s surgery will prevent last Tuesday’s pain from happening ever again.
Remembering my Grandma’s smile
Remembering my Dad chasing us around the house tickling us as kids
Remembering my Dad’s beard in the morning when he came home from a shift at the firehouse
Remembering my Dad rubbing his scratchy beard and cold face on our cheeks as we ate our breakfast
Goodnight Moon was not titled, Goodbye Moon. The book is about the end of the day, and how its end brings with it the promise of a new day. So, how can you start the day absent a sunrise?
“Life truly lived is a risky business, and if one puts up too many fences against risk one ends shutting out life itself.”
Kenneth S. Davis, Courage to Change, December 12
Much like Maya Angelou, I never met a day like today. The day had not begun when I walked to the garage. I entered a yard of darkness. The sky above was so clear and black with its stars so sharp and plentiful that it appeared to be randomly pierced by a dart that invited narrow streams of light to emerge, all of which were superseded by the size and splendor of the sensational half-moon, whose white light just bathed me as I walked out to the garage. I stood in awe of its beauty. I stood grateful for the moment and the presence of mind to welcome yesterday’s ending and today’s beginning.
There are these moments in our lives when a person comes into it, presented like a perfectly wrapped present, with a tag reading, “Enjoy this gift. Love, God.” And that is what Maggie was, and remains. A constant source of laughter, love, and friendship.
My mother nor I had finished reading the collection. That afternoon we read poetry aloud to one another. It was intoxicating. Short of her sharing in my daughter’s birth, that afternoon will stand as one of the best, most intimate, loveliest moments with my mom. Later that evening, she did it again, reading the poetry to a group of women, who were strangers not an hour before. I was reminded of the first time she took the pulpit and read from the Old Testament at St. Thomas More. Her grace, presence, and ability to project every nuance of those readings had me wanting to tell the whole church. “Hey, that’s my mom.” I felt the same way that night. And like many experiences this past year, I believed that book, and every poem bathed in Gluck’s own pain derived from her own divorce, was meant for me to read and to listen to.