9 Things I Learned In The Year After My Mother Passed

9 Things I Learned In The Year After My Mother Passed

Scars: They are a testament to injury, proof of survival and, at times, as indiscernible as a line etched delicately along the crevice of an eye. Although not all mar the physical appearance, they are all there, emotionally and mentally etched upon the skin like a latticework of fragmented memories and barely-remembered moments.

As badges of both honor and dishonor, scars are forever, branded on the heart, and as time continues, we soldier on, somehow stronger.

I dont remember the day and hour; just the silence....the deep deep silence of absence. It was the day I shattered to a million pieces without a hope in the world to piece it back together.

It was the day I lost my mother.

An End to the Silence

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It's terrifying; defiling the perfection of empty space. Watching the purity of the nothingness slowly click away one character at a time as words begin to fall out of the crevices of twisted brain trenches from depths not easily observed. The curtain of thoughts of inadequacies as a backdrop watching the thoughts pour out onto the desolate plane of whiteness. All I can hear are the clanks of the keyboard, the persitent breaths so audible from the plugged in earplugs from my ipod attempting to blot out any distractions in the cool morning hold of the office. It is a stern hold, almost insistent but not too firm; locking my body in corporate position as my mind unravels in far less sterile manners.

It has been so long that I cannot recall where all the words once came from before. Even now, I wonder where they are hidden; could I somehow find this secret place and edit it prior to leaking from quivering blunt fingertips. No such luck. I will chose not to stifle its path, letting it unwind as it will, just like the persistent breaths blocking out the nosie of the day. So many thing shave happened. So many lives have changed. Everything has ebbed and flowed at the design of the universe unseen; though some would argue due to cause and effect.

It is as the sea; infinitely powerful and vast, but limited and precious. Like most things precious, it is not thought of often enough, but horribly missed once gone; if not, essential. It stretches to the horizon, stretched over forever and not long enough, crashing against our lives like weak pebbles littering the beaches of eternity grinding our corners into smooth edges just before the inevitable consumption of time and consequence. The sea rages in noise and silence, in terror and peace, life-giving and taking...maybe returning to what we once were.

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Welcome to Music City USA, Mr. President.

WSMV Channel 4

Life:Explained

Life:Explained

But Joy Comes in the Morning

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The morning sunrise is magnificent! The grey, solemn skyscrapers morning-stretch into the pale blue sky still chilled from the frigid night before. The black and grey streets lift dark skirts to show their white and yellow lines to the light of day. There are no sounds of chirping birds; only the sound of the morning garbage truck rumbling with its backing-up beep detailing its position and actions. A morning train whistle blows a low bass tone like a soundtrack to some odd B movie waiting on the confusion of realities to become apparent to the unapparent. A Johnny Cash or Springsteen song and a cup of coffee perhaps would have added to such a witnessing morning. It is the kind of sunrise ANY desperate heart would long to see in the morning hours after some infinite night battle of clearing carnage.

The beautiful warm light crawls up the sides of the silent skyscrapers, painting their tinted windows with shades of yellow and orange. The coolness of the pavements ushers its way back into the shadows like roaches who have been disturbed. Oh what a glorious sunrise! The light bleeds back into the night sky and I see the birds soar on the winds without utterance. Morning jets accent the orange hues with white lines to underscore the vastness of the sky that lies beyond my morning view. The blue sky darkens into a more emotional blue; like postcards that have surely been enhanced and the sun becomes radiant on its way to its noon throne. Its Friday morning and what a beautiful one its going to be. It is a gift yet to be unwrapped, a mystery yet to be solved, a day yet to be lived and smiles yet to be shared. I bid thee a fine top of the morning.

— The Shadow Guards —

Just beyond the plate glass…

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It was a normal sunny morning when I went to the large plate window. Looking out over Nashville as the morning sun creeps up the sky, I could not let the crawling shadows go unnoticed. I watched them first small and short just below the signs; then stretching long like other worldly alien fingers reaching from the point of contact with the ground to some unmarked distance relative to the sun's location. I notice how much darker the negative shapes are on the grass as if there were no grass as the shadows grew longer. 

Parking lots and cars have their shadows too; but much less dramatic. Even in the darkness of the shadows, the breeze moves the young grass making the shadows sway. Each observation spawns another thought, disjointed from logic but connected all the same. Why are the shadows different on the pavement than the grass? Does the grass attempt to hide some part of its sight from the brilliant radiance? How do the shadows change the color of whatever it touches but leave it the same? I watch the little grackles jump and bounce in the grass changing colors as they pass from light to shadow, carelessly eating worms or bugs beyond my vision. Here we all are, nestled between the stone monuments of cityscape architecture but the most fascinating things are still the things that were here before man, before his trash, in spite of his intrusions.

The shadows stand and never tire. The reach and never strain. Tall or short, moving or still; they are always the same, absent but present. Maybe they are like the clouds – looking solid but planes fly through them, vaporous and mystical.

12 interesting facts you probably didn't know - StumbleUpon

12 interesting facts you probably didn't know - StumbleUpon

Recipe: Guilt-Free Apple Pie in an Apple! | Lucille Roberts Blog - StumbleUpon

Recipe: Guilt-Free Apple Pie in an Apple! | Lucille Roberts Blog - StumbleUpon

Desiderata: A Timeless Inspiration

By Max Ehrmann

Go placidly amid the noise and haste, and remember what peace there may be in silence.

As far as possible, without surrender, be on good terms with all persons. Speak your truth quietly and clearly; and listen to others, even to the dull and the ignorant, they too have their story. Avoid loud and aggressive persons, they are vexations to the spirit.

If you compare yourself with others, you may become vain and bitter; for always there will be greater and lesser persons than yourself. Enjoy your achievements as well as your plans. Keep interested in your own career, however humble; it is a real possession in the changing fortunes of time.

Exercise caution in your business affairs, for the world is full of trickery. But let this not blind you to what virtue there is; many persons strive for high ideals, and everywhere life is full of heroism. Be yourself. Especially, do not feign affection. Neither be cynical about love, for in the face of all aridity and disenchantment it is perennial as the grass.

Take kindly to the counsel of the years, gracefully surrendering the things of youth. Nurture strength of spirit to shield you in sudden misfortune. But do not distress yourself with imaginings. Many fears are born of fatigue and loneliness.

Beyond a wholesome discipline, be gentle with yourself. You are a child of the universe, no less than the trees and the stars; you have a right to be here. And whether or not it is clear to you, no doubt the universe is unfolding as it should.

Therefore be at peace with God, whatever you conceive Him to be, and whatever your labors and aspirations, in the noisy confusion of life, keep peace in your soul.

With all its sham, drudgery and broken dreams, it is still a beautiful world.

Be cheerful. Strive to be happy.

Max Ehrmann c.1920

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I was watching the OWN network and Oprah's Masterclass was interviewing Morgan Freeman who spoke about providence and how it guided his life. This poem/writing he sites as an inspiration and a motivation. I was not familiar with this poem; but it adds to the empty space left by a poeticly-inspired father-in-law who enjoyed reciting poetry with me. He will always be missed; not for the poetry, but the understanding of our sameness inspite of obvious differences. As we watched the sunset sipping his favorite on-the-rocks drink, we could recite Poe and Kyan and any other classic poet. He had an amazing memory and mind that always sought to understand everything about the how's of anything.

Of Wind and Mind; Sailing into your Future

photo from HowZit Hong Kong

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As I began my morning at the office, I always, without fail, add my earbuds and engage my ipod to listen to my daily batch of podcasts. One of my favorite is the 48 Days.net podcast with Dan Miller of Franklin Tn. I aways go away with something useful from the podcast. This year, I did not create a list of resolutions. Of course, I am immediately reminded of a quote, "fail to plan and plan to fail." I wondered as I listened to this podcast if I have programmed my year for less than its potential. Luckily as I continued to listen and he illustrates a story concerning sailing, he much like I, had assumed that sailing was relegated only by the direction of the wind; but NO, it is the knowledge of knowing the usage of the wind to go in ANY direction you require….powerful. So many good quotes that are worthless unless engaged. Hope you find some encouragement and spark in just a few of these quotes and incredible podcast. Quotes About indecision Find Your Favorite Quote on the Gaiam Blog

SketchBook®

SketchBook®, un groupe sur Flickr.

Totally cool

Bittbox FTT: Fur and Feathers

Bittbox FTT: Fur and Feathers, a set by calebkimbrough on Flickr.

You might be amazed if you really studied the things around you all the time in greater detail.

Falling Into Winter

Photo By The Praying Life

One of my favorite poems still to this day and particularly with the change in the weather from Fall to Winter is this short poem. This poem says so much with so little that the crisp air fills in the blanks. My third grade teacher was a true dynamo — Mrs. Phillips who never stopped inspiring my love of so many things. The words almost paint the picture for you in some immortal portrait that temperature immediately conjours up. There is a smell and sound of this transition in seasons.

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SOMETHING TOLD THE WILD GEESE

Something told the wild geese
It was time to go.
Though the field lay golden
Something whispered "Snow".

Leaves were green and stirring,
Berries, lustre-glossed,
But beneath warm feathers
Something cautioned "Frost".

All the sagging orchards
Steamed with amber spice,
But each wild breast stiffened
At remembered ice.

Something told the wild geese
It was time to fly -
Summer sun was on their wings,
Winter in their cry.

Author: Rachel Field

Read more: http://wiki.answers.com/Q/Can_you_give_me_the_entire_poem_something_told_the_wild_geese_it_was_time_to_go#ixzz1bENT0rop