Jingle ... Jingle ... Jolly ...

When I was about 14, my family lived in Little Rock. My cousins lived in Cabot.  All of us were about the same age.  

That Christmas, my cousin, Jerry Neal ... I know he likes to be called "Jerry" now ... but back then he was always "Jerry Neal" ... anyway, he received two goats.  And I'm pretty sure that was what he asked for, too.  He couldn't wait to tell us all about them when we gathered for dinner around my Aunt Julia's table. 

One goat was a boy ... and one goat was a girl.   They had been delivered the day before ... I believe.  He was so excited! 

It's been a long time ago ... so I don't remember what he named that boy goat.  The girl goat ... well, he proudly announced he had named HER ... "MaryJane".

Now ... THAT ... was special. 

My younger brother, Beau, couldn't resist ... "Why in the world did you name your goat, MaryJane?", he asked.

"Well, cuz she was so stubborn ... we couldn't get her to come off the truck.  We pulled her.  We pushed her. We did everything we knew how to do.  She just sat down & refused to budge. Stubborn.  So I named her MaryJane."

Thus the nickname "Nanny Goat" was born.

Not in the family was I affectionately known as "Nanny Goat", mind you ... but to the world at large.  You see, once again, Beau couldn't resist.  He shared the story with everyone ...

He found it ... delightul. 

I did have scrawny, spindly legs ... very goatish ... so somehow it just stuck.

For over 30 years, I have smiled at the story ... because, truth is, I am very stubborn ... yet I have always viewed it as something, well, less than flattering. 

Until today .... that is ...

... when a friend sent me this video.

I was totally unprepared for the impact.  Even though she knew me in high school, she was not in the group that would have ever heard the story ... so it was totally random. 

Funny how life goes. 

Watching the lively little goats ... joyfully frolic ... the tears streamed down my face.  Seems like pretty much ... everything ... makes me cry lately. And it dawned on me ... that quite possibly there was more to the naming of that little goat ... than just the "stubborn" story ...

It's a little late, I know ... still ...

Thank you, Jerry Neal, for seeing me ... exactly this way!
 
Jingle ... jingle ... jingle ... all the way ...

As stories go ...

I am a little baffled by the whole "Elf on the Shelf" phenomena. 

"The Elf on the Shelf – A Christmas Tradition is the very special tool that helps Santa know who to put on the Naughty and Nice list."

That's exactly what it says on the "About Us" page for the Elf On the Shelf. 

Somehow I don't like the idea that Santa's elves aren't really REAL until they are adopted by some family ... with the specific purpose of spying ... and tattling ... on everyone in the house.

Not really my idea of a special Christmas tradition.

But that's just me.

I am pretty sure that some of those "original" elves have been hanging around my house since I was about 3 years old ... they came along with gifts to my brothers & me from my Aunt Merthyne. 

A big fan of Santa Claus, she was ... probably they were close friends. She would have never sent elves to spy on us in his name!

I had forgotten about those elves ... until this year ... when I found them tucked into a special holiday wreath from many years ago along with a host of other sweet favorites she sent over the years.

Davey and the First Christmas ... now that's a treasured tradition ... it's always been my Mother's favorite.  There haven't been many Christmas' in over 50 years that she hasn't read this story to some loved ones ... young or young-at-heart.

How cool to find the story being shared this way ... not sure if the book is even still in print.  Our copy is well worn & fragile. 

Enjoy!

... and for the tomboy that was MJ ... there was the Wonderful Window ... it came in a cool little box with cut-outs & things.  And it still warms my heart when the "wonderful" window POPS UP as you turn the pages ... 

The angel came in with a smile on his face.

And both he and Katie got down on their knees,

Praying, "Lord, could you spare

one

small

miracle--

please?"

No elf on the shelf for me ... I'm sticking with Davey ... and Katie ... as stories go ... their's are more in keeping with what Christmas means ... to me.

www.lifelessons-mj.blogspot.com

(c) December 2011

A Christmas Conundrum ...

My cell phone charger ... the one that plugs into the wall ... broke recently.  So I've been depending on the one in my car to keep me powered-up ... connected to the world.

What that means is ... fairly frequently in the last week or so, I have gone out into the garage and started the car ... for no other reason than to charge up my little phone battery.

Not sure why my Solara has to be turned on for the charger to work ... my Sebring would charge my phone without even having the key in the ignition.

Technology.  Blows my mind.

So I start the car & leave it running for many minutes at a time.  I generally leave the door between the laundry room & the garage open ... mostly so I don't forget that the car is out there ... running. 

Wandering in and out ... it occurred to me ... that ... yeah, I could do that ... start up the car & hang out in the garage ... if the despair was ever that great. 

So easy ... no wonder so many have done that very thing ...

Despair, though, has never really been a reality to me. So no need to worry on my account.  Really.  I promise.

Not sure why I wrote that ... but I've known for days that I was going to open my next blog with it.  Guess maybe it has something to do with the malaise ... of the season ...

Everything ... everywhere ... is all tricked out with tinsel ... and lights ... offering up the pretense of shiny and new.  And it starts earlier and earlier each year.

Somewhere in the midst of the glitz ... the glitter ... the giving ... the getting .... Christmas has lost it's meaning ... as the world continues to lose it's joy.

And hurting people ... empty & lonely ... hopeless people ... hang out in their garages ... with the engine running ... listening to music ... about peace & love ... meaningless words in the context of their lives.

I love Christmas.  Always have.  So these past years that I haven't been able to find even the teeniest bit of the ho-ho in my heart ... it's taken an amazing amount of fortitude to
go-through-the-motions ...

... rushing through as quickly as possible ... focusing on the promise of a Happy New Year.

Delight yourself in the Lord; and He will give you the desires of your heart.
Psalm 37:4  

It was a few days after Christmas ... when that verse arrived in the mail ... in a note of encouragement ... from a very good friend ... at exactly the moment that life as I knew it ... came to an end.

Over the next few months it kept appearing ... in an email ... on a sign ... in a book ... on a plaque thingy ... a constant reminder that God was in the midst ... of the devastation ... then later ... in the reclaiming ... of myself.

Here it is, Christmas, once again.  Early on I started having twinges ... tingles ... and I thought to myself ... how awesome it was to be feeling expectant ... and hopeful ... again ... finally ...

This was the year I would begin to re-discover Christmas.  Ho! Ho! Ho!

I even told a few people that ... who are close to me.  Jinx.

Like the unexpected snowfall a few weeks ago ... things just started happening ... things that were designed to keep me from finding ... Christmas.

Stumbling along ... I keep putting my little Jesus ... back in his manger. 
And Jessi keeps re-arranging the angels.  Somehow we are maintaining ...

Hopeful.  Tentative ... but hopeful.

I allowed myself to open every single box of Christmas decorations ... to unwrap ... and enjoy each special ornament ... arrangement ... bow ... dish ...  book .. Santa .. elf ... angel ... lavishing myself with the joys of Christmas' past.


Lavish.  Such a decadent word.  And I wonder, is that a bad thing?  Guess it depends on the context.  I'm not sure.

And then there was the anticipation of the giving of my gifts. 

Even during the dark years, I have always enjoyed the gift giving.  You see, each gift is a personal communication between me & the one I am gifting.  All year I gather up things ... as I find them ... with a special person in mind.  I am not want to just go out in a shopping frenzy ... to check off names on my list ...

It's simply not my style.

My family refuses to share their wish lists with me ... it's been that way for years & years ... because they say they'd prefer to have the unique treasure that is
always found in a MJ gift. 

This year has been no different.  I have been bringing them out in little batches ... and wrapping my gifts.  I have to do it that way because Jessi sneaks & peeks.

Putting the special things in boxes or bags ... wrapping up a little piece of me along with each one ... always makes me happy. 

So you see, even with the early onslaughts, I have been hanging on to my Christmas tingle ... as best I can ...

Then like a snowball to the back of the head ... came the assault ...

... since Christmas is the celebration of the birth of Christ,

why do you buy gifts for other people? 

It was hurled in the midst of a lengthy Facebook conversation that started with "Happy Holidays" vs "Merry Christmas" ... and it totally blindsided me.

A snowball, afterall ... is made from snowflakes ... each one individual & unique ... clumped together clumsily ... and packed down into a hard-hitting zinger.  I guess it had never crossed my mind that ... crowd psychology ... applied to snowflakes. 

There it was ... a suckerpunch ... from someone who claims to "know" me ... and my heart ... someone who has been receiving my gifts ... my time ... my resources ... my opportunities ... my encouragement ... my home & family ... my love ... bits & pieces of me ... for a very, very long time.

Oh well ... Wal-Mart GUARANTEES more Christmas for your money ... this year.  So I guess that explains it.  Surely if it's plastered all over Wal-Mart ... than it must be true ... Christmas is simply something you toss in your cart along with shampoo, light bulbs and a carton of milk.

And if a gift is truly nothing more than an obligatory expression of something to someone who may or may not really be important ... by all means, share a little more of nothing this Christmas ... Wal-Mart will gladly take your money.

Sure ... I deserved that ...

Really quickly ... my best friend, God, Creator of the Universe weighed in ...

Delight yourself in the Lord; and He will give you the desires of your heart.
Psalm 37:4 

There it was again ... my personal message of encouragement ... randomly posted on the wall of someone who is an acquaintance ... who doesn't know me well enough to be a friend.

In keeping with my personal tradition of the last few years, I made a simple list of three things for Santa.  All of my "wants" are intangible ... and undefined ... by design.  Each year thus far, my gifts have been received no later than New Year's Eve.

Just like snowflakes ... each has been rare, unique & genuine.  And because I don't know where they will come from ... or how they will be packaged ... it has allowed me to experience a little bit of Christmas magic ... as my heart has been healing.

A glimmer of hope, a special wish & something wonderfully unexpected.  That's what I put on my list ... last nite.  By 10 a.m. this morning ... two out of the three had already materialized.

What's up with that?!?!  I wondered.  So I posed the question.

You're not asking BIG enough, MJ.  It's time for you to ask for the BIG things.

That's the answer I got back.  Loud and clear.  So I pondered on that as I was driving about.  What would be BIG enough?

... the desires of your heart ...

Immediately I was humbled.  There's no way I can ask for the desires of my heart.  I am totally unworthy ... and honestly, I have no idea what are the desires of my heart.  I told Him that.  He laughed a little ... He finds me so amusing.

Over the last few years I have learned to receive His love ... to allow myself to feel His delight in me.  It's been a salve to my hurts.  And with a nudge, He reminded me to look at my list again ... from this year ... and the last couple of years ...

Somewhere along the way, I have learned how to ask ... for what He wants to give me.

"Delight" in the Lord ... that's what the message says.  And in an instant I realized  .. that's it ... to delight myself in the Lord ... IS ... the desire of my heart.

A Christmas conundrum.  A riddle where the beginning and the ending are the same ... something like ... Alpha and Omega ... yeah, yeah ... I may be a little slow ... but I get it!

There's still a bit of time left ... for me to find Christmas ... this year.  I'm asking BIG now.  And He's delighted.

Merry Christmas.

www.lifelessons-mj.blogspot.com

(c) December 2011

Shell Game ...

It's a plastic tube ... with a bunch of sea shells in it ... there's some bits & pieces of colored coral ... for good measure.  I found it ... somewhere in the house ... while de-cluttering. 

A souvenir ... most likely ... a reminder ... of life ... at the beach.  So I tossed it casually into the box of things I was going to sell on ebay a month or so ago.

Took the picture ... posted it ... along with the assorted items of the day ... the week ... the month.  It has been amusing to me ... what things actually ... SELL ... on ebay. 

Jessi wandered in ... poking through the box of stuff that I was trying to send to a new home ... quickly, she grabbed up the tube of shells saying,

"You can't put that on ebay!  It's Abbi's!"

I shook my head.  I was pretty sure it wasn't Abbi's.  I haven't been into any of her stuff ... most of it is buried three rows deep in the garage ... behind the collections of things that came over from Aunt Julia's last year.

Agitated.  Emphatic.  She took the little tube of shells ... shook it ... and stomped down the stairs with it.   Later I noticed that she had put it in the top of a box of things I was setting aside for Abbi to go through next time she visited ... things she could decide to claim as treasures or relinquish forever.

Not too much time passed before Abbi breezed through for a quick visit.  She rummaged through the box of things ... picked out a couple of items ... and left the rest.  Now of these were "special" things ... just random stuff that had been surfacing in the de-cluttering process.

I noticed that she had returned the plastic tube full of shells to the box. 

"Jessi says that's yours," I told her. 

She looked puzzled & shook her head, "Nope.  Not mine"

"She was very adamant about it," I went on.  "It is important to her.  She rescued it from the ebay box and put it in your box." 

Abbi said no it wasn't hers ... she hadn't ever seen it before ... and she really didn't need  or want ... a "retail" package of shells.

She has plenty of shells ... of her own.

We both smiled ... at Jessi and her ways.  Of course, we didn't get it.  We don't see things like Jessi.

So I took the items that weren't important back to  the ebay pile.  And once again, Jessi calmly ... but firmly ... retrieved the tube of shells.  She did it without me knowing it.  Next thing I knew, the tube of shells were back in Abbi's box ... waiting for her next visit.

For a couple of weeks, we played the shell game ... Jessi and I.  I'd take them upstairs.  She'd bring them downstairs.  I'd take them back upstairs.  Once I listed them again ... I put them in the closet with the other items that were waiting to be purchased.

"Where's Abbi's kaleidoscope?"  Jessi asked one evening.

Puzzled, I said I didn't know what she was talking about or where to look for it.  And I was totally floored by the word ... kaleidoscope.

"Abbi's kaleidoscope ... WHERE IS IT?!?"  Jessi demanded.  "It's not in the box."

Looking around, I realized she was looking in the upstairs box I bring things to before I listed them on ebay.  Again, I said, "I haven't seen a kaleidoscope.  I don't know what you are talking about, Jessi."

Frustrated, she said, "Mom.  It's Abbi's kaleidoscope.  I made it for her.  She has to have it.  It's important."

Then it dawned on me.  The plastic tube of shells ... it was a kaleidoscope.  Jessi made it for Abbi.  It was plain as day to her ... what it was ...

It was me ... who didn't SEE it ... the same way Jessi saw it.

Heading into the closet, I brought it out.  "Is this it?"  I asked.

 "Yes!  It's Abbi's kaleidoscope.  I made it for her ... with shells from the beach ... she loves the beach, Mom ..."  that's what Jessi said, and then ... "See ... when you turn it, Mom ... everything changes ... and then it looks different."

Together we placed the kaleidoscope in Abbi's box ... awaiting her next visit. 

I have spent hours thinking about that kaleidoscope.  And how out-of-focus I allow myself to get at times. I have looked at it from every angle ... and on the bottom ... are Jessi's initials ... "JS" ... to be sure that no one else at the workshop claimed her handiwork.

On days when I have been here by myself, I have picked up that simple tube of shells & coral.  I have turned it ... shook it up ... pondered the bits & pieces ... the fragments of the beach ... which in our house ... will always be reminders ... of other things ... memories of a past life ...

And it occurs to me, that maybe I have been trying too hard to make all of my puzzle pieces fit into a new picture ... somehow.  Instead of collecting them in one place ... and letting them ebb & flow ... on their own .. in response to what life is showing me ... at any given time.

Once I asked for a NEW puzzle ... and Abbi made me one.    She wrote the words ... describing the pieces of me ... that I was wanting to hang on to ... on little slips of paper ... and embedded them in a crystal ball of glitter.

It was cool and insightful ... the perfect gift for my healing heart.

And here ... in the little plastic tube ... was Jessi's attempt ... to do the same for Abbi. 

Abbi came this week.  She left with the kaleidoscope ... that her sister made for her ... full of love & pieces of the beach. 

The pieces will shift around ... each time she picks it up ... and it will never look the same twice.  The pieces all belong inside, though ... they are what make up the kaleidoscope ...in the first place ...  making it vital & precious.

Without all of the bits & pieces ... the fragments ... brightly colored coral ... along with the plain, unadorned shells ... it would have no meaning.

Jessi is right.  It is important.  She teaches me things ... fresh & new ... when she demands that I see things through her eyes ... all of the time.

Today,  when I picked up Jessi's boyfriend to join us for parade watching & a Thanksgiving feast with family later ... he was asking about how Jessi was doing after her medical procedure this week. 

Bless his heart.  He has been so worried.  Is there a chance she will die?!?! He had asked last week.  I assured him there was no chance of anything like that.  Then yesterday when she showed up with some humongous safety glasses on ... underneath her regular glasses ... he almost lost it.

"Is she blind?!?"  he asked urgently. 

I had to smile ... because she is most definitely ... NOT blind!

Neither one of us have a clue where she got those safety glasses ... she thought they were a cool touch to her "rock star" outfit for the talent show. 

This morning, we talked about how there was nothing wrong with her ... it was just a pro-active procedure ... but that there was a little bit of soreness & tenderness ... and that he should be patient with her for a few days.

He became very quiet ... as we drove along ... gazing reflectively out the window.  Then he turned to me and said, "You know, MaryJane, when things are healing ... it has to hurt some, too.  That's how you know it's healing."

Jessi's not blind.  She sees things we don't see.  And Donald ... well, at times I am positive that he is the wisest man I have ever met.

Today ... things hurt ... that's how I know there is healing.

... there's a time for everyone

if they only learn

that the twisting kaleidoscope

moves us all in turn ...

~ Can You Feel The Love Tonite - Elton John

www.lifelessons-mj.blogspot.com

(c) November 2011

A Thought ~ early 1970s

Here's another thing I went looking for ... in the last week.  It's a poem I wrote when I was in the 9th or 10th grade ... can't remember now what reminded me of this poem ... but I discovered a whole box of "early writings" ... that I knew was lurking around in a closet ... untouched for who knows how long ...  can't wait to spend a little time in that box ... it's gonna be full of memories ...

A Thought

by MaryJane Rogers

i have a thought

running through my mind ...

i just can't remember what it is.

that's strange ... 'cause

elephants aren't supposed to forget.

i tried tying a string around my finger but ...

a little bird flew by and stole it

for its nest.

then i tried writing a note on my hand but ...

but when you don't have a pen

it's hard to make any kind of impression.

so now i guess i'll take my butterfly net

and go searching through my brain

for my wisp of a thought.

it's playing hide-n-seek with me

OH! NO!

tag you're it!

look ... over there ... i spy

amid the cobwebs.

HEY! YOU! 

take 2 giant steps ... 1 baby step ... 2 more giant steps

ITHinkiLoveEyOU!

~ I should note here that the poem was typed on what would now be an ancient IBM Selectric typewriter .... non-correcting ... the model that had interchangeable type font balls.  It's on yellow "draft" paper that was flimsier than regular paper ... it's what your put your ideas on BEFORE you actually typed an original.

www.lifelessons-mj.blogspot.com

(c) November 2011

Disguise

I never know what I am going to find ... until I go looking for something. 

Take last week.  I went out in the storage room to find the costume box.  A friend was invited to a Halloween party ... and she had ... nothing to wear. 

I told her that I had a box ... full of stuff ... and she was welcome to borrow whatever she wanted to ... out of it.

Trick was ... I had to find the box.  Treat was ... what I found in it.

So I drug the blue Rubbermaid box into the den.  It was dusty and cobwebby on the top.  Been a long time since anyone in my house went looking for a costume. 

Costumes are very cool.  You get to dress up like someone ... or something ... that you're not. Wearing a disguise to hide who you really are ... on the outside ...

And for a moment in time, you pretend ... or maybe, just maybe ... you actually let who you are ...the real you ... on the inside ... come out & play.

Along with the blue box, there was also a black trash bag ... all knotted up at the top.  I didn't really remember where it came from or what was in it ... so I figured I should take a look ...

Inside the bag ... were layers and layers of netting.  I think that's what it's called in seamstress language.  It was that wiry, mesh looking stuff ... that's stiff when bunched together ... and when worn underneath a skirt of any style or length ...
adds poof ... and body. 

There were teeny, tiny petticoats made of netting scrunched up on elastic ... and there were layered contraptions designed to add shape to longer skirts.  And there were even one or two that had elaborate fastners designed in some rag-tag corset style.

There were toddler sizes ... to lady sizes. Some were adjustable.

 A few other delightful accessories were buried in that bag.  Lace handkerchiefs.  A vintage cummerbund & bow tie ... burgundy ... in it's original packaging ... with a starched ... never-worn men's pleated tuxedo shirt ... in a plastic sleeve ...

So ... apparently ... some of the treasures came from my grandmother's
costume & bridal shop. 

Others ... of the meshy get-ups ... I know for certain ... my mother made ... to enhance something I was wearing somewhere .. at some time. 

"Mommy-Made" ... whoosh ... another memory rushing in ... that's an entirely different story ... for some other day!

As I unloaded the trash bag ... I figured I might as well separate the adult sized things ... from the children & youth sized stuff ... to make it easier & quicker the next time I dived in ... looking for a disguise!

Opened up the box.   And all of the things I remembered were waiting for me there.

Witch hats ... a collection ... some with hair ... orange, green, pink ... some without ... severe, drab toppers for Icky's annual outing.  There were black capes & robes.  And a black dress that drapes over a multitude of sins.

It's been a few years since I reviewed my witch wardrobe.  Simply been keeping a couple of favorites tucked away in the back of a closet ... inside ... for those days I wanted to venture out ... un-disguised!

... if the broom fits, ride it ...  

Beneath those finds were layers & layers of stories of Abbi's & Jessi's Halloweens.  From the My Buddy clown suit that fit the 6 month old perfectly ...
(my personal favorite of all time) ... to Cinderella ... Belle ... two cute Little Mermaids with shimmering tails ... a ghost ... a pumpkin ... and I am wondering ... how in the heck did I ever let the McDonald's french fries ... get away ... for good?!?!

Next came some truly lovely, vintage dresses from the 1950s.  Things my mother had worn as she made the transition from young lady to woman.  Some were handsewn ... others have designer tags ... from some long ago time ... nestled in the necks or bodices. 

Petite ... that's the size of the these dresses.  Not sure that any of us gals in the family will ever wear them ... now ... but some lucky great granddaughter will delight in them ... one day ... I am certain of it.

My Cotillion days were fodder for some cool '60s and '70s styles ... and a few cherished pieces were there in the box, too.  Back in the day ... Cotillion required a "party" dress for the gals ... every week ... and formals on occasion. 

And sometimes there were theme nights ... that required us to dress up as something or someone. Early disguises.  Some of those are in there, too. 

One in particular ... a red cut-velvet skirt with black fringe around the bottom with a sassy black patent leather bolero-style vest ... my saloon girl look ... A little daring ... for that MJ ... but fun ... always fun!

The BIG find of the day though ... caught me by surprise ... took my breath away.  I had to sit down ... and re-live it ... the good ... the bad ... the ugly ...

Bittersweet.  Than a rollicking laugh outloud.

There it was ... kinda sorta folded up ... but seriously, it's impossible to fold up a patent leather ... anything!

THE .... redpatentleather ... vest !!!

It was the bomb!  Honest!  Or maybe it was ... groovy ... I don't think things were the bomb ... in the early 1970s.

It came with a rather ordinary dress.  As I recall, the dress was some kind of knit material ... it was sort of like a long sleeve turtleneck sewn on to a skirt ... which hit somewhere just below the knees.  The top was white ... the skirt part was blue. 

Drab. Plain. Very unassuming.  Even with the long, red jacket-ish vest on top.  Nothing too special about the outfit.  It was comfortable and fit all of the requirements for appropriate attire for girls  ... at school.

Mini skirts ... and hot pants ... with boots ... were all the rage ... on the high fashion scene.  That was THE look.  And all of us girls ... wanted to look like ... THAT!

Not sure what magazines I read that summer before 8th grade ... probably Seventeen ... or Glamour ... but in one of them ... there was a picture of the cutest outfit ... ever!

White short shorts .... topped with a long ... red patent-leather vest ... belted ... and finished off with red patent platform shoes!!!

H.O.T.   Hot, hot, hot!

Oh ... to look like ... THAT!  On the first day of school ... especially since I was going to a new school ... it was the perfect time to stop being the selfconcious wallflower ... and burst forth as the self-confident rebel ...

It was possible.  Anything's possible.  And besides, I had all of the components of the outfit.  I had a really cute pair of white short shorts ... never really liked the concept of "hot pants" ... that I had been wearing all summer. 

And Mimi had bought me some adorable red patent leather shoes ... stacked platforms that laced up ... to jazz up the unassuming dress.  Matched the vest ... afterall.

That's one thing I will say for Mimi.  She was all about style ... and accessories!

And the piece de resistance ... was THE vest! I had the vest.  And once you took it off the plain little dress ... it was daring ... spectacular ... perfect.

So I cut out the picture.  Showed it to my mom.  She thought it was the bomb .. ahem .. groovy.  Then I said ... hold on just a minute ... and I raced into my room ... and came out modeling ... my outfit ... my new disguise ... no more mousy MJ!

Needless to say, she was stunned.  At my audacity ... at my sassy-ness ... my style ... my glamour.  She agreed ... that it was ... IT!

A plan was hatched ... by my mother and me.  She was not only going to allow me to go to school ... on the very first day ... in this high-power fashion statement ... she was encouraging me to be bold & daring.

"Life is a daring adventure or nothing." ~ Helen Keller

I really don't remember a single other time that my mom was undeniably my ally & cheerleader in cutting edge adventure.  That was usually my dad's role ... only in arenas that placed value on abilities & performance rather than outward appearances & social status, though.

Both of us were pretty sure that it wasn't going to be within the dress code guidelines ... but it was a new school ... a new year ...

And rumor had it ... that possibly .,.. girls were going to be allowed to wear pants ... and maybe even shorts .... so it was worth a shot ... 

What was the worse that could happen?!?!


I'd get told not to wear it again ... or something like that.  Still ... I would have made an astonishing first impression ... on the first day of school.  Surely that would be enough ... for me to be ... SOMEBODY ...


It's funny how memories go.  My older brother went to school with me that day ... yet I don't have any clue what he wore ... or even what he thought about what I was wearing.  I am pretty sure that I simply didn't exist ... in his world ... at the time.


My father ... however ... not only noticed what I was wearing ... but had quite a bit to say about it.  He was flabbergasted !!!  Actually, that is an understatement.


To this day, I am not sure whether he was more astonished that I would want to wear something so ... racy .... or that my mother was encouraging me to do exactly that!


No way, MJ!  That's what HE said.  Adamantly.  He put his foot down.  Then he put his foot down again. Again. Again. Again.


How in the world my mother won this argument, I have no idea.  Or maybe she didn't ... win.  It's possible that we were both ... defiant ... I really don't remember.

All I know is that I headed out the door ... looking like ... a gorgeous long-legged model in some high fashion photo shoot!

In my dreams, of course.  I was under 5' and weighed less than 100 pounds at the time.  It's amazing that there's no photo to document the monumental occasion.

So what happened!?!  Did my defiance & daring change my life forever?!?!

Not so much. 

Never even made it into the halls of Booker Jr. High.  That's right.  Snagged by some crochety ole teacher as soon as my feet touched the parking lot ... and whisked away to the principal's office before .... anyone ... important ... saw all the stunning ... that was ... ME!

She was probably just jealous of my youth .... my spunk ... my radiant beauty.   Bet she was a spinster, too.  To be honest, I don't think I ever saw THAT teacher again ... not a single time in the next two years.

One phone call ... and then a very long wait ... until my mother arrived ... and she was reprimanded for my "inappropriate" dress ... then we were both sent home.

It's the only time I was ever sent home from school ... for any reason.

... and my dad ... oh yeah ... he had the last laugh.  He rubbed it in ... chuckling
 "I told you so" ... for years & years.  As a matter of fact, I imagine he's having a good laugh ... right this very minute ... at the memory of it all.

Beauty ... and acceptance ... has nothing to do with clothes or accessories ... that's what he always told me.  Or makeup ... or fingernail polish. 

I remember he really razed me about fingernail polish ... sure, maryjane, go ahead and wear it ... if you think you need it ...

That's what he'd say.  I can hear him ... as if ... it was yesterday.  Still not sure that I
"get it" ... but I never paint my nails that I don't think about him.

My father ... he's been gone from this life ... for 25 years.  

Last week he got my attention ... in the most extraordinary way.  Not really sure what to make of that encounter ... yet. 

The red vest, well, guess I will be keeping it for another 40 years or so ... as a reminder ... that disguises are only necessary if you want to give a false appearance ... or assume some different identity. 

A reminder ... that being me ... is always enough.

www.lifelessons-mj.blogspot.com
(c) October 2011

Run, MJ! Run!

How well are you running the race?

That was the subject line on the first email in my inbox  ... the day after ... I came clean ... about my hamster wheel ... habit.

Honest. I don't make this stuff up.  And even though I had 8 viewers ... and 2 watchers ... my hamster wheel ... received 0 bids ... on ebay this week ... again.

Maybe I should just give it away ...

I think I'm doing ok ... in the race running ... that is.  De-cluttering.  That's my goal.  It has been for more than a few weeks ... this time.  Ever since I got that direct message:

You're holding on to too many things, MJ.

When my best friend speaks that plainly & directly, I always listen!  No.  It's not

E.F. Hutton ... it's God, Creator of the Universe.  And, granted, He isn't just talking about things in my garage ... in my house ... in the little room off the sunporch.

Starting to clear out my house ... is just easier ... than clearing out my heart.

You see it's not the fact that I am holding on to ... too many things .. that's the problem.  It's the ... holding on ... to too many things.

Letting go is very hard for me.  Maybe that's because I have spent my entire adult life trying to make someplace feel like home.  So I gather up things that I think should be important ... and meaningful ... and I keep carrying 'em along with me.  Whereever I go. 

Thinking surely ... those things ... will make this place ... or that place ... feel like ... home. 

From time to time ... it's almost worked ... for a year or so ... then reality sets in.  You'd think I would have figured it out ... long before now ... 

Things don't make a home. 

And even though I am totally committed to cleaning out ... de-cluttering ... ridding myself of things that are no longer necessary to me ... I falter.

I pick it up.  Spend a little too long remembering where it came from .. why I have it ... & analyzing why I thought it needed to be brought along ... this time ...

Determined & cynical in my old age ... I am getting pretty good at cutting the cord ...

to a lot of things.  There is always that moment of hesitation, though, when I realize that there is still some life left in it ... it's just hard to give up something ... that still has

a little bit of life.

So this go round ... I am striving to be more practical.  Telling myself that, yes, the object in question still has value & purpose ... it has something to offer ... to someone ...  

just not to me ... not anymore.

Hanging on to things ... that may ... or may not ... have a little life left ... has been sucking the life ... right out of me ... for a very long time.

Thinking about things ... always leads to thinking about people.

I tend to hang on ... a little too long ... to friendships that have run their course ... too.

And ... to be perfectly honest ... at times it's the idea of a relationship ... that never actually unfolds ... the way I think it might ... the way I want it to ... that I allow to occupy a little too much space in my heart.

Imaginary relationships ... with real live people ... hopefully building my house of cards on whims ... silly, silly me.

It's a game I play with myself ... it seems safer ... than playing for real ... playing games with my head ... to guard my heart ... and MJ loses ... every single time.

Pretty sure those make-believes are part of the "too many" things I am holding on to ....

Seriously ... you'd think those would be the easiest to put out on the curb ... cuz there's no life in pipe dreams & "what ifs" ...

But they're not.

And after months of silence, the little bear has suddenly become Chatty Cathy.  Cheering me along the race course, maybe. 

I have written about the talking little bear ... a couple of times before.  He's special. 

Unpredictable ... unexplainable ...

The possibility of it being a battery that's running down has long been put to rest.  If it takes over a year & a half for those batteries to ... lose their charge ... then I am thinking I want some more batteries from where those came from ...

Some days ... it's simply a random outburst ... maybe 2 or 3 times in a 24 hour span.  Other times, it's a frenzy of chatter ... clusters of messages ... running together ... separated by pauses of varying lengths ... conversation-like.

It seems that the little bear talks to me more at night.  Sometimes it's constant ... all through the night.  There's meaning to the rhythm and timing of the messages.

I am sure of it.

The little bear only knows one sentence.

I love you THIS much !

Powerful ... important words.

For now, I am choosing to believe ... each time the little bear speaks ... it's because someone important to me ... is thinking about me ... maybe even allowing a little

MJ make-believe to come alive in their own hearts ...

You see, I'm pretty sure that I am not the only one who plays that mind-tricking-the-heart game ... especially in the still of the night ...

The little bear does occasionally speak to me during the day ... like first thing in the morning ... or when I am working from the house ... or when I return from the

busyness of my day.

Just more often ... in the dark ... in the wee hours ...

And I wonder ... does the little bear speak ... when no one's around to hear ?!? 

Triggered magically by someone's heartfelt thought ... words hanging in the air of an empty house ... waiting for me to hear them ... in my own heart ... upon my return.

The whole thing reminds me of a Twilight Zone episode.  Little bear proclaims ... outloud ... the desire of MaryJane's heart.  A baby-monitor ... of sorts ... channeling messages from a real live person in an imaginary relationship ... a fairy tale she is about to put

out-on-the-curb ... letting go ... before it's time ...

... ok, so maybe there's a little bit of life left in that one ... 

It's a great story.  And I will tell it ... when I am sure

what it all means ...

Home is where your heart is ... open your heart ...

find your home ...

Run, MJ! Run!

www.lifelessons-mj.blogspot.com

(c)september 2011

Mo' Deeper

It has come to my attention recently ... that ... I am nothing but a ... poser.

Yep.  A "Wanna-be" ... that's me ... for real.

... pretending to be living the life I want to be living ... when actually ... it's simply on hold.

A month or so ago, I decided to declutter my house ... and my life.  It's not the first time that I have had the notion to do that ... and I am sure it won't be the last.  What's important is that a little progress is made each time.

So, this time I decided that I was going to sell all of the random stuff I have hanging around on ebay.  At least one item a day is to be listed ... on average ... some days a whole bunch ... other days not.

It's been fun so far ... and so amazing what people actually buy!

One of the first unnecessary things I discovered was the cute little hamster wheel.  It sat in my office ... the last "real" office I had ... taunting me ... reminding me of the life that I wanted to be living ... full of adventure ... spontaneity ... fun.

Hamster wheel races ... if there was ever such an event ... I'd be a gold medalist.   Why, I 'd probably set a world's record for the fastest pace ... while racing my heart out ... to nowhere.

Figured I didn't need that hamster wheel anymore. I had deliberately taken that the first step ... and walked away from the routine and mundane ... when I cleared out that office.

The hamster wheel.

It's been hanging out in the garage in a box of stuff from my old office ... that I have just now ... unpacked ... after a couple of years or so.

It was the very first item I listed on ebay.  I was sure it would be one of those things that would sell quickly.  Bargain priced it, after all.  And technically, it's never been used ...  only in a figurative fashion.

Metaphorically.

It didn't sell.  Not the first time ... or any of the other three times I've put it out there.  Imagine that.

And that's when I realized that ... I was pretending ... to be living the life I want to be living ... when actually I am still hanging out ... there ... stuck ... in the hamster wheel.

Sure, the view's a little different ... from time to time.  I keep moving the little wheel around ... then run in place ... as if I am getting somewhere. 

Truth is, I am really not ... getting anywhere.

... and I wonder ... is it better to be Avis, the second sled dog back ... with a never-changing view but covering ground ... actually going somewhere?  Or to be the independent hamster ... in the stationery wheel ... with view changes based on random mobility ... heart pumping & legs racing ... yet still never getting anywhere?

A friend from my once-upon-a-time past posted a message to me on Facebook yesterday.  Spunky ... outspoken ... always moving in a rhythm uniquely her own ... here's what she wrote:

I've been active lately with a Chimpanzee Sanctuary, and I dreamed last night that you were bitten by a monkey. Could've been the pre-sleep vodka, but I feel I'd be kinda irresponsible not to warn you. Beware of unusual monkey behavior for the next couple of days.  Bwahahaha. The dream part is actually true.

 It was so like her ... and it made me smile!

All of the different monkey dream interpretations wrap around the idea that you shouldn't take life too seriously.  One says if you are a woman, dreaming of a monkey has something to do with a large, handsome man in your life.  She has never taken life too seriously ... and that man ... well, he found her a few years back ...

No surprises there. 

Still since I was the one who got BIT by the monkey in her dream ... seemed like a good idea to see what that means ...

Being bitten in a dream brings to a close emotions and fears about vulnerability from something threatening or unresolved. The trigger event is signified by what is doing the biting.

I had a vivid dream of my own ...  that very same night ... it involved bleeding ... but not from a monkey bite ... here's what I discovered about it:

Your dream indicates that you are releasing your pent-up tension and worry. It signals an end to the difficult times and the beginning of relaxation.

Do the math.  1 + 1 = 2

The little bear has been speaking ... randomly ... & often this weekend: I love you THIS much ... the message never changes ... just the frequency.

I went to find this photo ... it used to be the wallpaper on my computer ... at work ... in the same office ... where the hamster wheel taunted me ... it taunted me, too.

Hamsters gone wild ... now that's the life I want to be living!

... gotta run ... putting that hamster wheel out there ... again ... because, you see, I HAVE witnessed a preponderence of unusual monkey behavior ... recently ...

It's a call to action ...

Take down the walls ... change the scenery ... move forward instead of running in place  ...

It's time to step out ...  to be done talking about the adventure ... time to start living it ...

No. More. Hamster Wheel.

Not sure where I am going ... not in a hurry to get there ... it's the journey that matters ... after all ... not the destination.

www.lifelessons-mj.blogspot.com

(c) September 2011

Back Seat Driver

For weeks now, I've had the weirdest sensation when I'm driving.  I drive a lot.  It's at least 20 minutes from where I live to most anywhere I go.  I spend a lot of time on the highway. 

At times, I will be cruising along ... deep in thought ... or singing really loud ... with the top down when I realize that I'm seeing the road from a somewhat different perspective.  It's as if I am looking over my shoulder ... from the back seat ... watching me drive but it's not really me ...

An out-of-body-experience kind of thing.

It's not really scary.  Actually it's peaceful & comforting.  Just a bigger-picture view ... through the windshield ... as the scenery changes.


A week ago ... it was Monday ... I settled in to watch a screener of a movie that had been sent to me by some people that I don't know ... that aren't even from Arkansas.  I had had it for a few days but had purposely waited until I had a block of time ... that could be uninterrupted.


The name of the movies is HAPPY NEW YEAR.  It blew me away.  Not sure where exactly ... in the story ... that the tears started flowing ... but by the time the final scene faded to the credits ... my face was wet from my silent tears ... and the emotions were so strong ... so deep ... that I was physically shaken.  You see ... it's a movie ... about touching lives ... and making a difference.


... and there was a line from a song ... that kept playing over and over ... in the back of my mind ...  I realized that I had been hearing it ... under the dialogue on the screen ... without being aware of it.  It wasn't a part of the soundtrack on the dvd ... it was part of the soundtrack in my head ...

.... in the end ... only kindness matters ...

(Hands by Jewel)

Not sure when it started playing ... probably about the same time ... the tears started flowing.

I took a few minutes of silence  ... then I spoke outloud ... to my best friend ... because He's always in hearing range ...

Forgive us. 

That's all I could think to say.  And then I went to find the song ... because I really couldn't remember the rest of the words.  Imagine my surprise when I pulled up the official video ... and the opening scene was watching through the windshield ... as if over the shoulder ... of Jewell (or me) ... driving ... windshield wipers ... wiping away the rain ... as if they were tears.

Haunting.  That was the word I used to describe the movie ... and the feeling stayed with me ...  for most of the rest of the day.

It was later in the evening ... that the call came.  Someone that I care a lot about ... was standing on the sidewalk ... surrounded by family ... friends ... and strangers.  Watching.  As her world went up in flames. 

I am pretty sure it felt like an out-of-body experience ... to her ... from where she was standing.


In the days since a-week-ago-Monday ... I can't even begin to count the number of times we've said that she ... lost everything ... in the telling of the story ... the sharing of the news. 


Everything ... except her beautiful daughter ... her lively little dog.  Everything ... except her bright spirit ... her confident faith.  Everything ... except her friends.


It's hard to fathom ... starting out a new day ... with absolutely nothing ... other than the clothes on your back ... until it happens to you ... or you witness it firsthand in the life of someone you love.  You think you know ... but really ... you don't.


Friends rolled up their sleeves ... waded in and out of the pouring rain ... sorted through smoke filled stuff ... searching for any pieces of life-as-she-knew-it ... that could be salvaged.  Strangers showed up with boxes ... food ... cold drinks ... trucks ...


Whatever was needed ... was provided ... at exactly the right time.  The outpouring of love, support, assistance ... of kindness ... has been a tremendous blessing to all who have been a part of this story.


A restoration of faith in people ... more than one has made that observation ... and the song is still playing in my head ...

.... in the end ... only kindness matters ...

(Hands by Jewel)

This morning I sat down to write.  Before I started, I went back to the official video of the song.  I was fully prepared for the images ... you know, the haunting opening scene of Jewell driving ... and me watching over her shoulder ... from the backseat ... I had already been blindsided by that one ... last week ... today it was just the words ... I wanted to be reminded of the words ...

And once again ... the tears are flowing ... not sure when they started .... probably about the time the view shifted from the windshield ... to what was going on outside of the car ...

Am I really so self-absorbed that I had forgotten ... the rest of the visual story?   Or is it just one more of those gentle nudges ... drawing me back ... to something important ... somethat that I'm not supposed to miss?

Walking wounded.  Everywhere.  In my circle friends.  In the circles that are touched by my ripples ... by their ripples ... as the impact of our words and actions ... flow beyond our vision ... past the windshield ... as people everywhere ... are either trapped inside the burning walls of their hearts ... or are standing on the sidelines ... as their world crashes ... and they think ... they've lost everything.

Other stories have unfolded ... in the lives of people that I care about ... over the last week.  Silly, shallow stories in comparison.  He said. She said. Everyone likes me better than you ... or you ... or you.  Nanana  boo boo.  Whatever.


Friendship ... that's the common theme in all of the stories ... of the past week ... of life.  And I've given a lot of thought to what it means to be a friend ... what it means to have a friend.

My friend who lost everything is the kind of friend who gives everything.

It's really no surprise that when the going got rough ... it was revealed that she had the best friends ... ever.  That's what I told her ... of course, she didn't need me to tell her ... she got it all on her own.

And I wonder ... what if it had been me?!?  Have I been the kind of friend who has selflessly given to others?  If I lost everything, would anyone show up to help me sort through the ashes?  If I came face-to-face with the "what comes around" from my "what goes around" would I like the reflection?

Sunday after church, we got all the way to McDonalds before Donald started talking to me about the grasshopper.  He said it was on the car again.  I reminded him that that was LAST Sunday.  He persisted ... annoyed & agitated.  I was equally frustrated. 

You see, I am ashamed to admit it ... but I had allowed myself to get mentally caught up in the superficial drama.  It was distracting me from ... what was really important.

Arms crossed and a little bit angry, he asked me if I wanted him to SHOW me the grasshopper.  I said sure ... go ahead.  That would put an end to the senseless conversation.  Once and for all.

I was looking through the windshield.  No grasshopper there.  Surely he could see that, too.

He unbuckled his seat belt and climbed out of the car.  Looking back at me ... from the other side of the windshield ... he pointed to the little indention where the windshield wipers rest ... and sure enough ... there was a grasshopper.

Donald says it was the same one ... from the week before ... anything's possible, I guess. 

The next day ... Monday, again ... I had coffee with my mom.  She'd been on vacation.  So she told me her stories ... and I told her mine.  Not sure why, but I told her about the grasshopper ... both encounters.  She mused that she wasn't sure that she had ever actually seen a grasshopper up close.

I told her I would send her the story about the first grasshopper ... and what I discovered from that encounter.  (Hoppin' A Ride)  We both smiled.

Headed out the door ... reached over to put my things in the car ... the top was down, of course ... and came face-to-face with a ... backseat driver.

He was just hanging out there ... waiting on me.  It caught me by surprise ... and I called to my mom ... because I certainly didn't want her to miss the opportunity ... to see a grasshopper .. up close ... and personal.

Not sure what to make of it all ...  Everyone who knows me knows I don't believe in coincidences. And, yes, I think things happen for reasons. My experience has been that the real reasons are never the shallow, surface ones ... and probably most of the time we never actually discern what the real reasons were at all.

And 2 ...10 ... or 100 people can all be witnessing the same thing ... experiencing the same events ... and every single one of them comes away with a different account ... a variety of interpretations ... and lessons learned that were uniquely their own.

I have no idea why it was her house ... that the lightning struck.  Or why the grasshopper has moved from the other side of the windshield ... to the backseat ... 

I do know that my life has been forever changed by the experiences.

... in the end ... only kindness matters ...

www.lifelessons-mj.blogspot.com

(c) August 2011

Hoppin' A Ride

Leaving church on Sunday ... I was feeling ... sort of in a funk.  I guess that's as good of a word as I can come up with to describe it.  Something weird happened ... during church ... and I was feeling unsettled ... a little
off-balance ... confused.

Actually ... the whole weekend had been a little awkward and uncomfortable ... as it often is when emotions that have been hidden away for a long time ... start demanding to be seen ... to be heard ... to be dealt with ... once and for all.

So as we were ... settling into the car ... on our way to pick up burgers for lunch.  I turned the key and looked up.  There he was ... perched prominently on the windshield ... with his back to me ... hopping a ride ... as if to say ...
you don't matter ...

Yeah ... like I needed the grasshopper to tell me ... that ...
I didn't matter.

Jessi & Donald got really excited about the grasshopper on the windshield.  They thought it was very cool ... and as we rode along ... they got more & more tickled by him.

Not sure how I know it was a "him" ... somehow I can't seem to imagine a grasshopper being a "she" ... but there must be some of both, I guess ... or the world would be devoid of grasshoppers.

As we rode down the highway between Ward & Cabot ... we were traveling at speeds that are common on secondary roads ... outside the city limits.  And the silly grasshopper ... just sat there ... enjoying the scenery ... and the ride.

I imagined him feeling the wind blowing his hair back ... totally abandoned to the moment. As if grasshoppers have hair.

I don't know much about grasshoppers.  My first thought was of Jiminy Cricket.  But he was ... a cricket ... not a grasshopper.  Crickets are somewhat related to grasshoppers ... but not really.

Crickets are mostly know for incessant chirping ... music to some ... annoyance to others.  Fighting, partying all night & "plowing a lot of fields" as one friend commonly referred to it.

So, you see.  There is a difference.

Grasshoppers make up their own dance steps and groove to their own special melody.  Moving to it's own unique rhythm and tune makes the grasshopper an advocate of intuition ... reminding us to listen to our inner voices.  He encourages us to listen to the stirrings of our hearts ... to act on our promptings.

Grasshoppers pretty much keep to the ground.   And they teach us things about being grounded like patience, stability, security.  So it was pretty darn amazing that he was up there on my windshield ... enjoying the ride. 

Guess someone told him it was time for him to ... go.  Or maybe He was telling me ... again.

Grasshoppers choose to visit those of us who are innovators, forward thinkers & those who progress through life in unorthodox manners.  I didn't make that up.  I found it ... and a lot more ... when I googled about grasshopper lore .

Grasshoppers recognize tremendous leaps of faith, impressive jumps ahead and constant forward momentum.  Wow!

... and to think, this grasshopper choose me ... and my windshield ... for his Sunday afternoon drive.

Maybe his riding with his back to me really had nothing to do with indifference.  Maybe he was just wanting me to figure it out for myself.  Reminds me of the old sled dog joke ... about the view never changing unless you are the lead dog ... not sure why ... guess maybe ... it has to do with a change in scenery ... or a new view on things ... perhaps.

He rode along for quite some time ... taking it all in ... before choosing his spot ... to hop off ... into a new place ... that looked promising to him ... somehow.

The choices before me ... at the moment ... are much like that ... each one will involve a great leap ... into new & unfamiliar territory.

Grasshoppers have two large eyes ... and three smaller eyes.  The large compound eyes are made up of many separate lenses ... that all work together ... to form the big picture.  Those are the eyes the grasshopper uses to see things. 

Scientists aren't sure how a grasshopper uses it's smaller eyes.

Maybe those smaller eyes are the ones that look inward ... seeing things intuitively ... beyond what the concrete world holds ... seeing the world with childlike wonder.

According to legend ... grasshoppers show up when we are longing for adventure ...when are ready to get out of the rut we've been stuck in ... when we are ready to find a little magic.

Pretty sure it was no coincidence that grasshopper showed up on my windshield ... exactly when I needed ... a word of encouragement.

I don't believe in coincidences ... everyone who knows me ... knows that.

Good luck and happiness ... to the Chinese.  Nobility and immortality ... to the Greek.  Messages of glad tidings ... to the Native American.  Seriously.  Grasshoppers are harbingers of good news ... and the person who crosses paths with a grasshopper will receive "profoundly joyful news".

Things are unfolding ... gradually ... neatly ... without fanfare ... the way things that have real meaning are want to do. 

Impatiently ... has given way to ... patiently ... waiting ... for what's coming next. 

You're almost there, MJ ... get ready to jump!

www.lifelessons-mj.blogspot.com

(c) August 2011

Stones ...

It started with a photograph ... taken by a friend. 

It's odd, don't you think, to refer to people you don't know ... have never met ... as  friends ... because somehow you connected through social media ... and presto change-o ... you become  friends ... at least by today's standards.

This one may be a little different, though.  It's too soon to tell. 

He takes pictures of stones.   Beautiful photographs of walls ... and cliffs ... and little piles of rocks.  Natural formations that stand the test of time.  Longlasting ... well worn ... bearing the marks of weather ... harsh sun ... and storms.

If he understands ... stones ... then maybe ... he understands
other important things as well.

.... proper credit ... for the photograph ... to Thomas Watt ...

"The logic of painting the stones escapes me ..."

That was the caption he posted when he shared the photo. The image immediately resonated with me ... and his musing was thought provoking
as well ...

You see, they looked like rocks to me ... not stones. 

Stones ... well, stones are something entirely different.  Either way ... I get it ... the paint on the rocks ...

The blue paint ... is really simple.  There was no logic.  It was just random ... an accident ... the residual outcome of a decision to change ... something ... by someone ... somewhere ...

No real thought was given to the spatter ... I mean, seriously, they carried it outside to spray the bright, cheerful blue on whatever it was ... that way they really didn't have to be too careful ... as they put a fresh face on something that had become worn & tired  ... there was nothing there that could be damaged by the cover-up ... after all ...

It was just a bunch of rocks.  Or maybe, as he said ... they were stones.

Right away, I had to go look it up.  The difference between rocks ... and stones.

According to webster.com, a stone is "a concretion of mineral matter: rock".  That's the "A" part of the definition ... the "B" part says ... "a piece of rock for a specified function".

Stones ... are special like that ... they have purpose.

Concretion was an interesting word so   ... naturally... I looked it up ... too.

Concretion = something concreted. 

No surprise there.  It goes on to say that a concretion is "a hard usually inorganic mass like a bezoar found in a living thing" ... and then onto the "B" definition ... "a mass of mineral matter found generally in rock".

Stones ... are hard, inorganic masses ... with specific purposes ... found inside ... rocks.

Like a bezoar.  Of course.  Everyone knows about bezoars.

A bezoar is "any form of calculi found in the gastrointestinal organs" ... and here's the best part ... a bezoar ... is "believed by some ... to possess magical properties" ...

So stones ... are magic rocks.  Now we're getting somewhere.

And rocks are ...

The noun definitions ... in the order they are offered ... have to do with motion ... then music ... then a reference to a distaff.  A distaff refers to wool & flax ... it goes on to say it means ... a woman's work.

Maybe that's why I saw rocks ... in what he called stones.

I had to click on the fourth noun entry before I got to a definition that had any geological reference.  A rock is ... "a large mass of stone forming a cliff, a promontory or a peak".  And then the "B" definition ... "a concreted mass of stony material".

Makes you wonder ... which came first ... the stone?  Or the rock?

My friend ... the one who didn't get the shallowness of the paint ... but had the eye for the well-worn beauty beneath ... in the rocks ... the stones ... the journey.  He said it was ok for me to share his photograph here ... as long as I gave him ... proper credit.

I assured him ... that ... I always give ... proper credit ... for work done well. 

You see, it's not everyone that goes a little deeper ... below the surface ... beneath the paint ... too see the magic.  Whether it's a rock ... or a stone ... or a living thing ... the magic ... it's always ... waiting to be found ... within.

Recently another friend of mine had a birthday.  It was a significant one.  This is a friend that's been wandering in out of my life for over 20 years ...
a real-live, hug-ya-when-I-see-ya friend.

So for his birthday, I gave him a jar full of rocks. No wait ... I think maybe they were stones ... because they were special.  In the jar were large rough ones ... some shiny, polished ones ... and some that were more like pebbles.  Pebbles are simply small, well-worn ones.

There was a message that went along with the gift. About counting your blessings ... your Saturdays ... the good things in life.

It was a bit of risk ... to give him something ... like that ... I guess.  He's a guy, after all.  Still. He gets it.  And now every week, he spends a few minutes pondering ... his life ... his choices ... what's important ... what's stood the test of time ... what lies ahead ... as he takes a stone out of the jar.  He has decided to put each remembered rock into another jar ... establishing a balance of some sort. 

Last week he told me that some of his rocks were missing ... out of the emptier jar ... the one that he's moving them into ... one week at a time.  Seems his grandson has been helping him out ... returning the stones ...
to the original container.

Buying him a little more time.  A few more Saturdays.  That's what he said.  It made me smile.  And offers me so much hope ... to think that his grandson ... gets it ... at such a young age.

"You are hanging on to too many things, MaryJane." 

As soon as He said it ... I knew it was true ... and that it was time.  So the last week I have begun the process of clearing out clutter ... sorting through stuff ... and I came across that pesky little rock ... the one that was offered up as a replacement ... by a friend ... who accidently threw away the REAL magic rock ... that I found out there in her yard.

She really didn't get it ... not the magic rock thing ... not the friend thing ... either.  Still somehow she got the magic ... and I got the rock ...
the phony, replacement one.

.... it sort of makes you wonder ... is the magic really real ... for those who don't believe?  Or will it turn out to be yet another be-careful-what-you-wish-for story?  Things are never really as they seem.

The stone pondering ... it's been deep ... and very personal.  Lots of things have been taken out ... considered ... examined ... 

"It's time to go, MJ."

Another prompting ... urge ... that's getting stronger & stronger.  Not sure what that means ... or where it is ... that it's time for me to go.  All I can do is prepare ... for the next part of the journey ... as best I can.

So a few of the rocks I have unearthed ... re-discovered ... are going to be hanging around a bit longer. Some with a bright, new look ... a fresh coat of paint.  Like the ones in the photograph.  Others plain & simply ... themselves.

They make great paperweights ... doorstops ... and most likely will be essential to any really satisfying water-feature.  Others ... well, in some cases ... they are no longer meaningful ... or useful.  Their time has past.

So I am letting those go ... leaving them behind.  Some will remain part of those sturdy walls ... the ones that I have followed all the way to where they end ... they just stop ... unexpectedly.  The walls that I no longer need ... to protect me from things over there on the other side ... things that might sneak up on me ... catching me offguard ... unprepared ... ill-equpped to protect myself ... the walls that have been separating me from the life I want to be living ...

My friend ... the one with the keen eye ... he has some photographs of a wall ... exactly like that ... he's good ... very good.

I am winning the battles within ...
so there's no need to fear the enemies ... without.

Others are simply being scattered along the path ... to what's coming next ... waiting for whoever stumbles upon them next ...& picks them up ...

And a few ... deserve something more .. than casual dismissal. 

Those are my skipping stones ... flying through the air ... as I fling them ... then dancing across the water ... wonder how many lives will be touched by the ripples ...

... magic rocks ... that's what they are ... stones.

... and bein' lost is worth the comin' home ...

La la la la la la la la la ... on ... stones ...

~ Stones by Neil Diamond

www.lifelessons-mj.blogspot.com

(c) August 2011