There is no one thing.
There is the clear sky at night,
the planets and stars twinkling
through the dark and inky blue.
There are green leaves of a tree
gently dancing in the breeze.
The beautiful color of the sky
enhancing the picture.
The Ocean. And forest trails.
Rocks and small pebbles.
Gardens and delicate flowers.
Storms clouds moving rapidly overhead.
There is the face of a loved one.
Children playing.
Old spoons and and thimbles.
Brooms. And laundry hanging in the yard.
Bright Paintings that adorn plain walls.
A quilt made by a friend.
Beautiful buildings.
Sculpture.
And faces.
Faces of each unique
and distinct person i pass
while walking on this life's trail.
I am walking on a mountain trail. There is lush vegetation, yet occasionally I can pick up the unmistakable scent and sound of the sea. On some twists and turns, I catch a glimpse of the beautiful expanse.
I realize that it would be easy to find my way to the shore. My heart leaps as it always does when I am near my home.
I walk a little higher… all the while binging on the scent and beauty of the pines … and the feel of the forest … which surrounds me. I turn a bend and look down. There again is the glorious blue that always brings me so much peace.
A few more steps. One more turn ... and there is a wide and gently sloping trail which looks as though it continues to the sand. I take the trail and walk slowly downward, constantly turning my head … backward and forward … so that I might absorb as much of the tableau as possible … knowing that I might never walk this way again.
My step is sure as I make my descent from the mount. Shortly, I am walking on the sand. I kick away my sandals and begin to run … feeling the rough texture of the fine sand beneath my feet.
Soon I am walking on the firm mud. I feel the top layer squish through my toes. I stop for a moment to enjoy the wonderful sensation … slowly moving a little to and fro. How I loved this delightful squish when I was a girl. I still love it now.
Now I am wading into the water. As soon as it deepens enough, I start to swim with strong strokes till I am well past the crests of the tall waves. Once far enough out, I turn on my back and start to float, the salty ocean gently lifting and supporting me as I rest. The warmth of the sun covers me like a beloved blanket. There I remain … fully at peace.
I am ancient. I am youth. Ageless.
I Am.
Mom is out of surgery. Everything went fine.
We visited her in the recovery room and she was soon making new requests for her web site and wondering if she can use her laptop in the hospital. Next she asked my thoughts on the Republican Candidates debate...
Needless to say, she's back to normal.
"You are a perfect child of God."*
...And, you are loved,
...exactly as you are
.,, this very moment.
Thanks for everything. I love you.
-*DM
This is Michael, Judi's son, updating her weblog.
Today she's having the long awaited back surgery and I'll keep you up to date on her status while she's off the net recuperating.
Just before wheeling her into the operating room, this was our conversation:
Mom: One last thing, very important, before I forget.
Me: Yes?
Mom: You need to go to my weblog and make sure there are no spam comments.
Me: ....
Mom: I don't want anything inappropriate on my site!
Me: Ok, I'll do that. These are your last wishes?
Mom: Yes, it's important!
And then they wheeled her off.
So there there you have it loyal Momonthealert readers, she was thinking of you.
Some things are just too profound to explain in words.
Yet there are Some Rare and Remarkable Souls
who have the ability to weave the threads of language
into the fabric of space and in time ... and thusly ...
transport the listener directly into
the essence of the glorious tapestry
where they may experience it.
We call them Master Weavers.
Just got the nicest call from my niece, Mary.
She wanted to wish me the best of luck
on my upcoming surgery.
What was so lovely was that …
in a very few words from me,
she TOTALLY GOT IT!.
She then proceeded to articulately reflect back to me,
with an amazing economy of words,
exactly what I am feeling
and have so miserably failed to explain.
Maybe I can hire her as a ghost-writer.
Or maybe as a stand-in ghost-speaker.