Dear Faithful Reader, Random Visitor, Wandering Insomniac who just stumbled over here to Doorathea,
It's about time I let you know that I have not stopped blogging. I have only moved. If you are still interested, you can find my blog here and please feel free to drop a comment or two.
I have definitely enjoyed being part of the xanga community, and have even been able to meet up with people I've met here. My first and fondest memories will always be from back in the day when I was the anonymous Fairy God Mother, cheering on my dear loves Emily and TheWendyBird, Jimmi and GideonRecon, as well as Natalie Lovenburg, my Americanpie girl.
Thank-you, xanga, for this place where my voice was safe... usually.
This morning proved to me that TIMING IS EVERYTHING. I was on a morning bike ride trying to put together a good play-list that would get my heart rate up. The first song was a good warm-up, not too fast,not too slow. If I had been one second faster I would have received the soapy rinse spray bouncing off the top of the neighbour's van from a hidden chauffeur as he washed from the opposite side. Just one second faster and it would have been 'splash' for me.
I changed songs.
This sped things up a wee bit. Heart rate up. Legs starting to burn. Scenery whizzing by a little blurrier. Next thing I realize is that had I been one second slower I would have been hit by another neighbour reversing blindly out of his driveway. Just one second slower and it would have been 'crash' for me.
I drove into our house and parked my bike. I decided to wait till the morning crowd had finished spraying and reversing; until I was sure most of them had already left the neighbourhood and the only timing I would have to worry about was the likelihood of a bird sitting on a wire two stories above me, releasing his morning movement while I was still off yonder but timed perfectly to land on my head as I sped beneath. Ya right! What are the odds of that happening?
She was more rain cape than little girl. Plastic crinkles punctuated each puddle-jumping exclamation of "this one's really deep!" It was July and yet she was a stray October Halloween ghost of a different ethnicity, an army green ethnicity. She was the first person in the world to discover puddles, at least, it looked that way. I guess that's the way it is when anyone encounters beauty for the first time.
As she ran I was seeing her walk on water. I imagined that walking on water could be the only thing better than that moment in the rainy day, the rain ballet, the puddle spray, I wouldn't say, ' now that's enough'. I waited for her to feel the enoughness, secretly hoping that she never would.
Her's was an Innocent Oblivion to people staring behind protective windows in cars passing by, tires pulled up water on the flooded pavement sounded like a laughing crowd, her crowd.
Without asking me she just looked at me and smiled wider than her face as she pulled off her boots - boots that she loves to wear even on a sunny day, anticipating, I think, that at any moment the rain will fall just for her and give her the best puddles. Then the twirling began! Oh glorious twirling and pointing of toes and raising of arms, and reaching-up of delicate little-girl fingers. The sign of total freedom.
Where were all the other people in the world? There were none. It was our own world. And this is what the rain gave me.
Go ahead and play a game of Elephant Shoes. It's not a new thing but go ahead and try it anyway. To play you just look at someone directly in the eyes and soundlessly mouth the words "elephant shoes". See what the person's response is. If you mouth these words in front of a mirror you'll see that it looks just like you are mouthing the words "I love you." Poser.
There's something powerful about the person who really says what they mean. Take, for example, the person who says they are your friend even if you are of a different faith than they are.Then you find they have been writing a blog that chronicles their subtle ways of trying to convert you, as if you have been the secret part of their secret mission, and they have twelve comments of 'praise the Lord' and 'God is good' because you - poor lost you that you are - seem to be ready to confess your sins.
I'm always mouthing the words to songs when I listen to my i Pod. I may not even know the words so then I mouth them a millisecond after I hear them. Especially Beatles songs. I should know those lyrics. There is something intrinsically cool about knowing those lyrics. I was born in the 60's for crying outloud but I don't know half of those lyrics! I will make up the silent words sometimes. No one knows that though. There's no sound. I look just like someone who knows the words to all the songs. There's nothing to show otherwise. Poser.
There's something powerful about the person who really knows what they are saying. Take, for example, the male gynecologist who told me very patronizingly to 'calm down' while giving birth to my son. I wanted to shout at him, "Calm down? CALM DOWN? You push a 10-pound human out your hoo-haw for a couple of hours and then you can tell me to calm down!"
I've been searching for the right words these days. Not just words that look like I'm saying something when I'm really not saying that at all. Not just empty cliches that come from a bit of knowledge without experience whatsoever. Words. The Word. The Word was first, the Word present to God, God present to the Word. The Word was God, in readiness for God from day one.
My humble thoughts, and some True input from a friend of Jesus, a guy named John, who said what he knew from what he experienced by knowing Jesus in person.