We are a moment here, and then a memory.

In the weeks, days, hours and minutes that lay before you like a spun out dream,
be good to yourself.
Cleave to the things that bring you joy. Release the things that frustrate you.
Be in the now.

I forget….

I love to write letters,

and I adore getting them.

I forget how much the process of writing

a letter

changes how you feel, how it shifts your mood.

Sitting in a comfy spot, near a window, or outside on a sunny day  with tea and pad of paper. You let your mind drift, off to that person

 into whats going on in your world.

It slows you.

It connects you,

more than a phone call

more than a quickly dashed off email.

When I get a letter, I save it, until I know I will have a quiet moment to sit and read it.

There is a conscious effort to be present, for the words on that page.

To be present for the person who took the time to write and send me their thoughts.

 They who made the effort to get past the self consciousness of poor spelling and  perhaps handwriting not as elegant as they might wish.

I am So grateful

It is amazing what you forget, when you get so busy with the mundane.

I decided that I am going to turn off the computer this weekend. Slow myself down, get into the letter writing, have fun making funky cards ( like the fabric postcards I made this weekend)

and just enjoy a little disconnect from the Cyber world.

I will see you all in March!

(or in the mailbox *wink*)

Letters

I meant to post this before the month began.

But I have a way of distracting myself from not only my intentions but what ever cat I was herding at the moment.

I thought this was an AWESOME idea and so far am 2 for 2.

You can start when ever , and since rules only apply to those who read the fine print, feel free to start tomorrow.

Oh and this really cool challenge

came from HERE 

~ happy Letter writing~

The insecure day…

I looked in the mirror this morning,
” hello you”
I realized that I had missed the last three days of saying ” I love you”
~hmmm~
I suppose I could tender excuses, but I wasn’t in the mood.
I am sitting with choices
I am sitting with dreams.
I am sitting with resentment.
I am sitting with boundaries.
Sitting there, staring at them like they might do a trick. Like they might get up off my plate all by themselves and walk away with out any assistance from me. yeah…
right
thats so going to happen.
I pick up boundaries, and it feels like a stone. It’s hard and it’s rough. I could smash some windows out with this baby. I could make a BIG splash if I threw it in the water.
or
I could put it back in the bag and carry it a few more miles.
~sigh~
man that sucker is heavy.
I pick up dreams and it slips through my fingers like a breeze. It dances around me in warm and cold currents. It tastes like expectations, it smells like needs. I could sit here for days, weeks, years and keep swishing my net about trying to catch one, just one, that might make a difference. Or I could let go, and see which way the wind blows.
I slowly pick up resentment, handling it with care. Like a ball of razors, an unconstrained fire it sits ready to burn or make me bleed. I hate holding this one, I fear I may have swallowed it a time or two. It’s a different kind of poison, one that you know is there but you never really see. I feel it though, in the instants when it flames up and the razors and heat pour forth from my mouth with haphazard but lethal intent. When I cut and burn those closest to me as the pieces I have swallowed become to much and regurgitate in the meanest of ways. This one requires surgery as I must remove it from inside me, as it’s not something I can put down.
Choices stares at me. I stare back. Like a giant puzzle thats nothing but pieces in the box and a few that have been fitted on the floor, Choices wants me to pick a piece, any piece. Then see where it fits. She knows how hard it is for me to toss things away once I have picked them up. She knows I will hold it until I can find a place to make work. I want all the pieces to be here, I want all the pieces to fit, nice and neat. I don’t want to pick up one thats not for me, one that looks pretty but there is no where for me to place it, no where for me to make it work. Choices and I have been playing this game for years, I have a bag of pieces that I never could find a home for in my life.
Still she sits there with hands open and all those pretty pieces laying in her hands waiting….
waiting for me to pick the next one, waiting to see what I do with it.
.
.
I’m just sitting here….

Calling all bubbles!

If you have a moment, and have a kids Love of bubbles, Check this out!
Levity Project
and come play with me and mine!
I need to get to the store and get me some bubbles!