Sometimes, enough is enough. It’s not often. But if it were… if I could learn to appreciate, just how lucky I truly, truly am… like I do now….
Well, then, maybe then, I wouldn’t need to document everything. To “selfie” everything. The world IS a beautiful place. There IS art in the dumpster trash. But THIS year (and I am hoping my resolve isn’t so shallow as a single year, but I know myself and maybe it is), but THIS year, I am devoted to changing the world. One teeny-tiny step at a time.
Listen to that homeless guy that asked you for a cup of coffee. (check out “Cider and Crack.) Maybe he does want a cup of coffee, or some cornflakes.
Donate. And that might be only compassion. I don’t have any savings any more. I asked 2016 to make me generous and it did. But I have love to give. And often, that is what people need.
After all [and I really want to post a gratuitous-Beatles-photo here], Love makes the world go round.
Do we want to be like Dolores, or do we want to wake up?
I am paraphrasing, but:
In my experience, there is no such thing as luck.”. I think OB1 said it to Han Solo.
It is either the Force or the universe.
So we we want to be Dolores or do we want to wake up? (Take the green pill, take the red pill. Thank you, Wakowski brothers – now siblings – for the hints along the way.)
Are we trapped inside a movie, or a video game? The matrix, or someone else’s narrative? It’s everywhere when you look for it books, TV, the new The Arrival movie.
We can change the plot, or we can wake up 🙂
It is an will wind that never blows anyone any good, my mother used to say.
She meant that is was always blowing someone some good, somewhere.
Sometimes is is just an ill wind, that never blows anybody any good.
Pop quiz: Which stack of books are mine, and which are Evie’s?
(Footnote, I did try and buy an image of a Night Owl to put here, but I couldn’t get past all of the login information. Wow. It is difficult to actually pay artists for their work!)
I met Chas it 1994 on the small island of Kuredu in the Maldives. I swear he looked the same then as he always did. A tall, bald, smiley goofball. That was Chas. His kindness, his soft eyes, his big hands, and his easy laugh.
We became friends diving together. He talked to everyone, he was generous and gregarious. He made friends with the dive instructors, with Sylvie, with me. I think he was already a Dive Master at that point, but I can’t be sure. He was a great diver. Slow breather, good on air, good lung capacity. Chillaxed. Unphased. Great buoyancy. Patient.
There were no alarm clocks on the island, and this was before the advent of mobile phones. Chas was an early riser (always was) and the first dive was early in the morning. At my request, he would wake me up every morning by walking to my hut and hollering “ACHTUNG BABY” at the top of his lungs. (He probably woke up the whole island, certainly most of the honeymooners in the vicinity. He was already smiling at that time of the morning.)
It is hard to express how much I loved Chas, and how much I will miss him. I wish I could be there with you all today – especially with you, Evie. I know you will get through this – but I wish I could be there with you.
Chas never met my baby girl. Her name is Evie. But he and HIS Evie sent her clothes. We think of you both every time she wears them. I love you.
Margaret and I snatched barely 5 minutes today to say Hi. She took her coffee to go. I opened my laptop to work. We realized we were wearing matching clothes, so I asked the guy next to me to take our photograph (he has a great pug, and eye – apparently.)
I had forgotten to bring her Christmas gift, with me but it will just be an excuse to get together next year 🙂