This be Ficus!

I am colorblind
Coffee black and egg white
Pull me out from inside
I am ready
I am ready
I am ready
I am
Taffy stuck, tongue tied
Stuttered shook and uptight
Pull me out from inside
I am ready
I am ready
I am ready
I am...fine
I am covered in skin
No one gets to come in
Pull me out from inside
I am folded, and unfolded, and unfolding
I am
colorblind
Coffee black and egg white
Pull me out from inside
I am ready
I am ready
I am ready
I am...fine
I am.... fine
I am fine

Apology Accepted

I would like to write explaining FICUS. Ficus is my plant. My first plant. My only plant. No he isn't a ficus plant- he is a blooming plant with wierd leaves and is oddly shaped but, none the less he is mine and I love him. Mine to love and feed and eventually everyone will see the beauty of my Ficus that I see and he will be appreciated with all his imperfections. I write of Ficus to apologize for forgetting for awhile. He is only a small plant you see... and depends on me. I left for a week and came home to realize I had not asked anyone to watch over him. Poor Ficus. His leaves were wilting and losing their color. I, then knew what needed to be done. I grabbed his water fed him and talked to him... Apologizing and such. :) The next day I found Ficus to be a lot happier. No longer was he wilting. He accepted my apology and we have never been closer! Ahhhh my Ficus... how I love thee.

Chicken

I have found myself writing a certain blog and then too chicken to post it.... I save it as a draft. Not that it has anything that would be hard to let others see (because we all know not to many people even have seen this yet.) It is just that I am insecure with writing. But that is why I do this. To get over it. I think about all these amazing individuals I have met and how my comments seem so insignificant compared to their level of knowledge and insight that they have. They, more than anyone else, explain and say what others- as well as myself can't or don't know how to explain. I love it. I appreciate them. But still,who I am is who I am. So why be scared? Why worry about my writing?... It goes back to humanness. I am sometimes just too worried about what others will think that I forget that what I say and think is me and end up going along and not showing any "me". I hid this blog for a long time from everyone. I have now told some and others found out some way or another, but still am scared to make it "public." It's silly really.

Story Time

I don't know what to write.... I just feel like writing.

Last night my good friend Nate read me my homework. One chapter to be exact. He did voices, facials... the whole deal. It was great. I have to admit it was a lot better than reading it alone for sure.

Today in my class, as we were discussing the chapter that we had read, my teacher asked us when the last time was when we had actually sat down with a book, took notes, thought about it's content, applied it to our lives, and discussed it with others? The class was silent. He replied, "Sad isn't it."

It is sad! Why not do that? There is so much to learn! Books have so much to offer! Why not ask questions and try to understand? It's just like TV but better and useful and not TV. :) I mean, here, we can sit around the TV, watch it for hours, be taught insignificant importances and not really even apply it personally to ourselves or even discuss it with others.

I don't know. I like books. I liked that Nate read me that chapter.

Why quit having "story time" in elementary?... I still enjoy it.

SMILE!

Opposite Day

Today I feel totally contradictory. It is such a beautiful, bright day outside and here I am walking around in black. Why didn't I wear color? I usually do. Bright and loud, but I have a presentation today and have to "look nice."

I have to admit I am wearing flip flops though... which are a big no no. And knowing me, which I do, will guarantee me taking them off some time or other while giving my presentation. Going completely barefoot. (I don't know why I do that. It's just one of my little quirks I guess you could say.)

My roomie, Shalie once said, "I think closed toed shoes make me not able to think." ha ha It was classic. (She and I are always wearing sandals or the bare essentials at the wrong time or place.)

So in a way I contradict the "looking nice" part I was going for in the first place if I do happen to present barefoot.... What was the point of wearing black then today anyways?

Photo Fiesta

I don't know if anyone else has experienced what I call "photo fever" but I just got a new digital camera and can't help myself from taking tremendous amounts of pictures! Inside of myself I justify it by saying- you want to remember every second BUT on the other hand some things- you just can't capture in a picture. Maybe some times you shouldn't even try... The memory of it is worth more than a piece of paper with only the essence of what really happened. So should I stop with my photo obsession? I doubt I will. It's new and fun to play with. But then there is the question that comes to my head- How many times have we recieved something and lost it in the end because it has lost it's "new flavor?" Does that mean it really wasn't worth that much to you in the beginning anyways? I think it can and it can't. Really kinda hard to explain. It depends on what we are talking about right? Because sure you did think it was worth something to you but you have changed and so has your favor with whatever it was.

The Invitation

It doesn't interest me what you do for a living.

I want to know what you ache for, and if you dare to dream of meeting you heart's longing.

It doesn't interest me how old you are.

I want to know if you will risk looking like a fool for love, for dreams, for the adventure of being alive.

It doesn't interest me what planets are squaring your moon.

I want to know if you have touched the center of your own sorrow, if you have been opened by life's betrayals or have become shriveled and closed from fear of further pain!

I want to know if you can sit with pain, mine or your own, without moving to hide it or fade it or fix it.

I want to know if you can be with joy, mine or your own; if you can dance with wildness and let ecstasy fill you to the tips of you fingers and toes without cautioning us to be careful, be realistic, or to remember the limitations of being a human.

It doesn't interest me if the story you're telling me is true.

I want to know if you can disappoint another to be true to yourself; if you can bear accusations of betrayal and not betray your own soul.

I want to know if you can be faithful and therefore trustworthy. I want to know if you can see beauty even if it's not pretty everyday, and if you can source your life from God's presence.

I want to know if you can live with failure, yours and mine, and still stand on the edge of a lake and shout to the silver moon, 'Yes!'

It doesn't interest me where you live or how much money you have.

I want to know if you can get up after the night of grief and despair, weary, bruised to the bone, and do what needs to be done for the children.

It doesn't interest me who you are, how you came to be here.

I want to know if you will stand in the center of the fire with me and not shrink back.

It doesn't interest me where or what or with whom you have studied.

I want to know what sustains you from the inside, when all else falls away.

I want to know if you can be alone with yourself; and if you truly like the company you keep in the empty moments.

(inspired by Oriah Mountain Dreamer, Native American Elder, May 1994)

True Dat!

"Life would be a lot easier if we were Eskimo's."

ha ha... I love it, I love it, I love it!!! :) If you really think about it... it's totally true. All you would have to do is eat blubber, stay warm, and try to survive. Ha -Only joking guys! ...HAPPY MARCH TO ALL!