Yesterday was the first day…


Yesterday was the first day of my vacation and it was spent in blissful existence, pecking away at my laptop for the better part of the early, early morning. Occasionally I would look up and the view from my writing desk shown the lake calm and strategically poised for the day. In between subsequent yawns, the sun crept slowly across its rippled surface… tugged away the covers of the night and wiped its weary eyes with a cloud or two before releasing itself into the dawn. I cannot tell you how dear it was to have quiet thoughts and hot coffee as my only companions, contented to write untethered by obligation for hours upon hours. Later in the day I enjoyed the scenery of a short road trip into town and then spent a quiet evening curled up with my book about the dead- Unfinished Business by James Van Praagh. I was happy and comfortable, but even more so… I was edified, productive and the feeling was exhilarating. It is one thing to work… and unlike many, I do love what I do- politics aside. But when you have the chance to work on your own projects… Well, let’s just say it was good therapy for the frustration that has been following me since November of last year.
A job should be a place where one can cultivate a skill and advance or retreat according to ability- but not by wave of emotion or polarizing politics. Perhaps it is fair to say that I grow weary of the drama that takes place everywhere but on the stage these days. That being said… I wanted to tell you that in the course of my writing yesterday, I was championed by those at my side- Charley, my mother and father. It was amazing the palpability of their proximity and I am grateful for all the small and large signs sent my way. You think so much of life is void of their touch? That they do not see or hear what we think?
Such foolish mortals we are.
Suffice it to say that even in the mundane and rather offensive rigors of life- they find a way to make contact. Think naught?
When finished with my writing for the morning, (which began just after I threw out everything I had written up until then) I chanced to see a patch of dog urine on the carpet outside my office. Needing to stretch, I willfully got up and proceeded to the kitchen to get carpet cleaner and paper towels. Having secured both I returned to the spot, folded the paper towel in half and noticed the decoration on the towel itself- a dragonfly. Those of you who have seen the Kevin Costner movie of the same name know the meaning of its significance. Immediately, I thought of my mother and whispered thank you for the gesture. When I needed yet another paper towel to repeat the process, I followed the exact same routine. And what do you think was the design that headlined the other side of this paper towel? A butterfly! Immediately I made another response- thank you father. Why? Because odd as it seems for a man who was every bit a man, the father of ten, beloved of my mother and an all around compassionate and amazing individual… my father told me after my mother died, that if he could come back as an animal- he wanted to be a butterfly.
Now, as a woman who grew up in Iowa, had a raging Black Beauty complex as a child and later bought a 30 acre horse farm filled with every animal known to Noah… you could have kicked me over with a toothpick! I kept thinking to myself…how was it possible that this incredible specimen of manhood, my mentor- my sage, wanted to come back as something as dainty, fragile and timid as a butterfly? So of course you know me… I decided to think it again- out loud!!

“Dad? How is it possible that you-this incredible specimen of manhood, my mentor- my sage, would want to come back as something as dainty, fragile and timid as a butterfly?”
His response?
‘Because a butterfly lives but 24 hours and in that time it must do and be everything it can to have every experience possible before it dies. It never wastes a single second of its life on worry or fear. It just lives!’
It pains me to say this, but for two seconds I seriously considered not throwing that towel away, but… the urine won out! Like the butterfly my father wanted to be, the stained paper towel had a shelf life of… zero minutes!

So why would I spend 15 minutes writing a blog about dragonflies and butterflies on pee’d paper towels? Because you need to look at even the most mundane things in life as a way of connection to another soul- both dead and alive! You are surrounded every minute of your day by loving guides who wish only to help you evolve. They don’t have all the answers anymore than we do, but they do have our best interests at heart and they hold the bigger picture up to our faces every now and then and ask us to see what we can become.
Do I wish to become a butterfly?
No… I do not, because unlike my father I no longer wish to be in a rush. I am weary of the break neck life of nonsense that clutters my day. I want to live each 24 hours… not just one round of 24 hours and so I say to you dear readers… SLOW DOWN. Don’t just stop to smell the roses along the way. Plant the damn things yourself and then sit back for a season or two and watch them grow!

Isn’t life amazing? Who knew you could get so much insight out of dog piss???

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