Saturday, September 21, 2013

Counting my blessings. "Good mercy you are such a jerk."

"The great thing about this life is that acting with kindness is free to give. Costs nothing.
But the right word at the right time in kindness can be worth it's weight in gold."
"There are a lot of southern accents that have gotten us to the moon and back."
"Of all the people to make fun of the way a person talks or the way they look. Lol, I can remember the early days when you were shaking in your boots.  Guess you've gotten to good for them."
" If I make fun of the Red Neck culture, I can because I have been one. Thing is I try not to make fun of people because of their accent or because of their shape or their circumstances.   We all are born naked.  We live our lives. I've seen people that didn't have a bit help someone who had a lot.  It's a beautiful thing to see. I've also seen people who've been frankly asses.  We all, if we live long enough are asses.  If I'm friendly to someone it's not to curry favor. It's because I know and remember well the days when I had no one.  I remember the days when I or a family member were at the mercy of someone who didn't care one twit about us.  I hope that I will always remember."
"I can't tell the person who was a jerk, "You are being a jerk."  I can't do it because we don't know each other.  I could yell at someone here. I could yell at the telly or the radio or the paper or the Internet.  I could write some snarky email or Tweet.   I don't think I will.  Instead, I'm going to hug Pup or WB or a puppy. I'm going to tell them out loud, "Thank you for caring about me."  Then I'm going to do something positive to balance the jerk."
"I'm going to write it here, "That guy for all his stuff never seems happy."  Funny as time goes by he has more stuff and more attention but he just doesn't seem happy.  Me?  I'm getting happier by the minute.  If I counted my blessings this day?  I have a bunch.  I still can remember the sad after my son died.   I can remember the first time I laughed afterwards.  It took years. Even now when I laugh there is that little marvel at what it feels like to be happy and kind. I know that he'd say, "My life has been so difficult and maybe it has been.  It's just if he were here or if he was there in the delivery room when life changed, maybe he'd be a bit kinder."
"Everybody needs the  5 Minute Rule. Everybody to some degree has had moments that frankly suck.  Everyone. It's good to remember."
"My circumstances keep me safe from the jerks. When you've seen just how mean spirited some folks can be?  It makes you wary.  This place, the way I talk and dress and act, keeps me safe from you."
There.  I'll feel better in a minute. I won't forget this bit but I'll get distance from it and I'll remind myself to count my blessings. "
"I don't care if you were the first person to get me to laugh after my son died, you are still a jerk."

She's not a brick house but she is lovely.
"Tonight? When I fall asleep?  I really will count my blessings."
(I feel better.)

U R still a Jerk.

(I feel even better.) 
c ford

Friday, September 20, 2013

"I am a writer.
Hear me quietly writing.
The sound of a single pin drop.
The sound of a balloon pop.
Bright as a penny.
But more strength than copper.
Hi ya.  

I'm not goofing off today but I am having fun.

Things 2 do and people 2 see.

Best of all?

Time with the pups.



Wednesday, September 18, 2013

Butterfly concerto


Was told that this is a lovely melody to accompany tai chi.

Thought I'd give it a try.


Tai chi 24 tutorial / Tai chi movements


so... .


Come dancing.




It's good to jump into the breach and fight the good fight.


It's good to stand back and stay out of the ruckus.


I'm glad to know that it wasn't our fault.
I'm also glad to know that we weren't wrong.
At least we're seeing the road ahead.

Not making things up.

And better

Good to have the company.


.We're the folks watching and wondering.




Happy b'day. Leon Foucault.

(I've actually seen one of his lovely clocks)

If you don't know?

Or Google
Or Wiki

It's actually kind of cool and worth the effort.



Saturday afternoon we (WB and I) sat under the pecan trees while I read letters from the past. It was funny to read them because it was like getting a hug. I'd just randomly reach into the bag and pull out a letter.  One by one they reassured me that it would be okay.  I wonder if they knew that years later (in one case 35 years later) that I'd need them but that they wouldn't be there for me.
There are people here that try to reassure me too. They're failing miserably. My friends who sent the letters? They had one thing in common.  While each in there way pushed and pulled me through life? Not a one of them told me that I was broken and needed to be fixed.
The poem in the next post?
It's for them.
Please note? They aren't the ones who've been dumping their problems in my basket.  Instead, these are the people I'd been told were the wrong people for me to know. Billy (who showed me that art wasn't just a hobby and who was the best letter writer), IrishDavid ( like Billy, he didn't have so much trouble understanding), Damon (I'm glad that you were on that hill), Donna (my first real friend when I was a little kid), Gary, Jim, and John (who were the best of traveling companions), ... 

Like the Beatles song, "...I loved you more..."


Now for the poetry. LOL, aw come on Gentle Reader, there are lots of people who just love this stuff.

Oh and hello Tai Chi  people  I'm stuck on Tiger carries mountain....
Need hugs.


108 tai chi moves Master Moy


Working on the tai chi set.


I am still here.
Walking on the broken shards of the everyday reality of this life.
You call it broken.
You say, "I'll fix you."
"God will fix you. Cut off your horns. Make you one of us."
Then you look around at everyone and you spit "...broken..." to everyone you see.
If only they would walk or talk or look in your "image"
But who made you God.
The person who's metaphorical "feet" should be bleeding.
Cut to shards.
I'm okay.
It's not easy but I'm okay.
I'm not broken.
I'm not lost.
I'm here in the middle of the chaos of the world.
On my back the burden of those who'd use me as a dumpster for their problems with no regard to mine.
My basket is full of those problems.
Very few are mine.
So here.
I'm giving them back.
Emptying the sadness into your lap and pouring my kindness on the mess.
Throwing my own  troubles into the air.
Food for the seagulls.
Food for the crows.

c ann ford

(All rights to the author. It's not that I mind others downloading it. It's when they don't give me the credit as author that I'm pizzed off.)

Monday, September 16, 2013

What the hell have you been doing for the last nineteenyears?"
arsenio hall