Monday, October 19, 2009

A Beautiful Poem:


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 dull and 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 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 with your soul. With all its shams, drudgery, and broken dreams, it is still a beautiful world. Strive to be happy.

"The Author: Originally attributed to an unknown author and found in
Old Saint Paul's Church, Baltimore, U.S.A.Dated 1692
I've received the following e-mail stating otherwise. Regardless of it's source, it's the words that really matter to us.
The e-mail " From this web site : I believe this to be among the best of poetry, though one person in my life comes close. I enjoy his muse.

Have a wonderful day.

Tuesday, October 13, 2009

I wonder...

Have you read this?

I wonder how accurate people believe this post is. Judging by the lackadaisical way the post is written, it could be that the person writing it believes in alien space craft, but where's the "Headline News" story that corroborates the claim?

I'd like to believe that we aren't alone in the universe, but ... well ...

Show me the proof. Where did the "research" come from? Heinlein? Moore?

Come on folks, get real. Life isn't like a romance novel, therefore it can't be like a science fiction novel either. (***psst... that's why they call it fiction***)


Thursday, October 8, 2009

J's Rock

My daughter J got a rock one day; I found it as I was rummaging through a junk drawer looking for a 5/8ths drill bit. It was just there, for what reason I can't recall. An odd little oval shaped thing with no character to speak of. Kind of small, gray, and dull, to me any way. My little J was so excited she squealed. "Tee my wrock Papa?" She giggled to my dad.
He seemed quite impressed, as was my mom and nearly everyone else. I couldn't see why. I felt like a mean mom for wondering why everybody else understood but me. I didn't say anything to her, but I watched.
We went to the store to get some milk for breakfast. J took her rock along. She showed everyone. Some people smiled at her, others ignored her entirely, and a few stopped to see it and tell her how wonderful it was.
One woman told her it was "pretty" and I thought to myself, why tell her that? It's just an ugly rock. Another woman stopped and said, "Can I have the rock sweetie?"J looked very sad and stared at her rock, but she handed it to the woman. Thankfully, the woman didn't keep it, but gave it back after a few seconds."Teeteu!" J said happily, as she hugged it to her heart. "’tis is my wrock."She kept that rock in her fist or in her pocket all day, taking it out to cradle it and hug it.
I was amazed at her dedication to such a humble little thing. She scarcely has the patience to watch her favorite TV program, but the rock inspired total devotion in my child.
At night, J put the rock under the edge of her pillow to keep it safe. It fell off the bed and chipped off a tiny piece, lying there until she got up and found it the next day. She toted it around as she had the day before.After a while, she brought it to me. "Tee my rock Mama?" She smiled at me with that incredible little face, you know the kind, the melt your heart; turn your knees to butter, incredible throat constricting joy of your life face.
I took the rock, determined to see the beauty in it. I found the chipped place and was astonished to see a fire flecked pool of milky white shining from that ordinary pebble. It was an opal. My little girl had fallen in love with an ordinary, dirty, humble, little stone and it turned out to be a nearly flawless creamy opal.
As I handed it back to her, I had to wonder how many other ugly stones in my life were actually opals in disguise. I remember another rock I stuffed away in a drawer somewhere. Humble, serene, temperate, and compassionate. His name was Jesus and he was far more beautiful inside than an opal could ever be. I have much to rethink in my life. Thank you, J.
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