R – Reflect

R

“Reflection is the beginning of reform.”    Mark Twain

“Whatever good results I find in my reflections come to me when I am walking.”   Goethe

“To reflect is to look back over what has been done so as to extract the net meanings which are the capital stock for intelligent dealing with further experiences.”   John Dewey

 

When you “reflect” about your life do you only see the one-dimensional person that is displayed in your mirror or do you soul-search and look for a deeper meaning?  What does your life mean to you?  Do you analyze what has happened in your life to make you the person who you are, or do you just charge on without thinking?

Now that I’m considered “old” by some people… my kids and people much younger than I am, I do wonder about my life and what makes me… ME.  What mistakes did I make?  Can I hit a button and have a “second chance,” provided I can use the knowledge that I have now learned?  I think about how my parents raised me with their strict beliefs and how I reacted to their confining way of life.  I also remember the heartache and trauma in my family due to my brother’s rebelliousness against my parents’ mindset.

Then I contemplate about what I could have done differently that I didn’t do.  What skills did I have? What did I know?  I remember thinking as a teenager that I was SO SMART.  Hmmm, I definitely need to hit a “redo” button there!

Also, how has society changed after all of these years… OR HAS society changed?  Because life is no longer simple, is life presumed better because we have the use of technology?  Have we learned to think critically or are we told what to think?

These questions constantly pop into my mind as I look back over my life.

I remember that my parents’ way of thinking was “my way or the highway.”  Since I chose “their” way, would I have been better off running away to never look back?  However, in those days “good kids” did what their parents wanted them to do… right down to a job whether that job was right for you or not.

What would I be like now if I had taken control of my life?  My friends that graduated from college didn’t take a job in the area of their degree.  In fact they became stay-at-home mothers as I did until my divorce.  Suddenly, I was left trying to figure out what I would do for a living and how would I support my two children ?   I bumbled along, but I managed to keep my kids, German Shepherd, and home all intact.  My life’s road was filled with pot-holes.

The education I should have achieved prior to my marriage, I received after my divorce… learning to take hold of my own life instead of letting life run me over.  I reflect on all of these questions and thoughts each time I look in the mirror.

So my words of wisdom to you now are, “take the ball and run!”  Go the direction that works for you.  Make your mistakes as you will learn from them, as I did, but you will learn so much more about yourself.

 

 

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Q – Quest

Q

“Life begins as a quest of the child for the man and ends as a journey by the man to rediscover the child.” Laurens Van der Post

 

“Our life is a long and arduous quest after Truth and the soul requires inward restfulness to attain its full height.”    Mahatma Gandhi

Hey, have you ever forgotten to look both directions only to get run-over by life?  Did you find out a family secret that maybe you were not wanted, then the light goes on…”Oh, that’s why I didn’t get along with my family.”  Or you go through a surprise divorce, or your job isn’t going the way you had it planned. Or maybe all of the above, or worse, is going wrong with your life.   At some point, you gain your equilibrium, plant your feet squarely on the ground only to say, “OK, WHY are these bad things happening to me, and WHAT can I do differently to make my life more enjoyable?”  Then the quest begins… to figure out who you are and what you love.

For me, I had to do some soul searching.  I looked at what I did wrong to actually determine if the problem was mine or not.  In some cases, I learned about perinatal and pre-natal trauma.  It is amazing how the trauma taking place in your mom’s life when she is pregnant with you can impact you in your growing up years.  Gee, no wonder life wasn’t going my way when I was a baby… light dawns.  So now it is time to take another step and move on with my life.

It is important to look at the good things we achieved and the things that didn’t go the way we wanted. Better yet, did your parents say, “You have to do “THIS,” when you didn’t think their choice of careers or schooling would work for you?  Now you have the opportunity to change.

Have you ever stopped to list what you LOVE to do?  Why not?  You might be amazed at what you discover about yourself.  Are you doing what you love?  Remember that it is NEVER too late to start something new.

Do you know what type of learner you are… visual, hands-on, intellectual, technical?  Are you a people-person or prefer to be solitary?  Once you start looking at what you love and how best you learn… take the next step.  Do something that you love.

One piece of advice that I loved is from the Celtic Treasure Chest regarding “Wandering.”  They recommend “losing yourself in order to find yourself.”  Take a different route than you usually take.  The book even recommends doing something unpredictable like going to sit in a new café or park.  Watch the people around you.  You might meet a new person or learn something different… EXPLORE!

I love to talk with people so I walk the waterfront near my home to talk to tourists and residents walking their dogs or playing with their children.  My ability to enjoy talking to strangers surprises me as I was always quiet and shy.  Now, as I’m aging and exploring who I am, my shyness is disappearing.  What a surprise.

Like the explorers of old, go wander through the thick underbrush of your life, you may be surprised at what you stumble across… a pot of gold!

Posted in A to Z 2014 Bloggers' Challenge | 6 Comments

P – Physical Therapy

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“Top 10 Rules for Physical Therapy By your Therapist

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1. Never say “I can’t” because you’ll do it anyway.
2. Never say, “it’s easy” because we’ll just make it harder

3. Never say, “I want to go home” because you’ll stay longer
4. Never lose count because you’ll start at one again
5. Never complain because we never listen.
6. Never argue because you’ll never win.
7. Never scream or cry because it only encourages us.
8. Never look like you’re enjoying it because we’ll put a stop to it.
9. Never hold your breath because if you pass out and die, we have to fill out the paperwork.
10. Never lie or cheat because we know the truth and you will live to regret it.”  Anonymous

 This is Humpty Dumpty reporting in.  Having fallen off a wall, you know I’m a “cracked egg” so my physical therapist definitely has her work cut out for her.  Like Humpty Dumpty, I’m a definite challenge as my parts weren’t put together correctly in the first place.  It all starts with the joker who threw a firecracker in mom’s car window when she was pregnant with me.  Here I was quietly enjoying the ride when this thunderous explosion jolted me into doing a 180 flip.  Heck, after that surprise, there was NO WAY that I was coming out into that war zone.  Mom had to make a U-turn to head back to the doctor’s office where he struggled to turn me back to the correct position… but I WAS NOT cooperating!  The doctor’s effort to turn me back into the proper position inside mom and possibly the fact that I grew quickly managed to re-arrange the vertebrae in my back to a backwards position and twist my pelvis.  Now, you understand why I’m visiting the physical therapist.  Also, you won’t be surprised to hear that I STILL to this day don’t like loud or surprise noises as you will definitely witness me jump… as my one physical therapist did as he snuck up on me while I was quietly reading waiting for my appointment when he loudly exclaimed, “Hello Gwynn!”  It did take him a while to scrape me off the ceiling of his waiting room.

Oh yes, there is more to this story as when I was six years old, my two 100 pound German Shepherds were playing and chasing one another.  I guess they thought I had the football as they tackled me and ran right over me.  Now I have two football knees.  The problem though, is that in “those days” the doctors didn’t know as much about knees as they do now.  They didn’t do physical therapy and they told me to be careful of my knees as otherwise I would spend my life in a wheelchair… just what I wanted to hear at six!  The doctors also forbid me from physical education in school as every time I jumped to hit the tetherball the twist would dislocate my knee and I’d fall so I couldn’t walk.  Needless to say, my idea of sports is swimming and boating.  I LOVE the water.

Hey, I can’t stop here as when I was 15 I had bone spurs removed off of both my heels as the spurs became infected.  The removal meant lifting my Achilles Tendons on both legs, sawing off the bone, and tacking down the tendon.  I chose to have both heels done at once as I was afraid to have the process repeated.  After spending close to three months with my feet wrapped in a ballet position as I sat in my wheel chair.  I learned to walk again.  Have you ever seen anyone walk up a steep hill backwards… that would be me!

So when I arrive at the physical therapist’s office and explain why I have a bad back, they roll their eyes and nearly run out the door.  But, I have found some special physical therapists that have managed to put up with me and all my screwy “glitches.”  The special part is they are teaching me how my body “should” work so that I can help myself.  They listen to me about what works for me and what doesn’t work, as I don’t do “normal.”  Then they find simple, fun, and crazy activities to do to make my body work better… like playing with my balls.  My neighbors laugh when they hear about my balls, as I now have three infant sensory balls that are plastic and spikey.  I put the balls behind my back and rub up against the wall as any cat or dog would do against a door jam.  It is amazing that one can actually have fun with physical therapy AND enjoy one’s physical therapists… Thank You!  Now, did I tell you about my “streetwalking” physical therapy?  I am getting a reputation in town.

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O – Old

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“You know you’re getting old when the candles cost more than the cake.”  Bob Hope

“Age is a question of mind over matter. If you don’t mind, it doesn’t matter.” Satchel Paige

“Many people think old age is a disease, something to be thwarted if possible.  But someone has said that if any period is a disease, it is youth.  Age is recovering from it.”  T.C. Myers

“Mom, what was it like when you lived with Annie Oakley and rode in stagecoaches?” I asked my mom when I was about five or six.  Then years later, when my son was about four, while touring a King Tut exhibit, he asked his dad, “Did you wear clothes like that when you were little?”

Recently I helped a neighbor prepare for a mutual friend’s 50th birthday party… a SURPRISE!  Our 50 year old friend feared turning 50 as then he was going to be OLD!  I mean a half century is ‘older than dirt’ right?

What signifies “old” to you?  Is it the age or is it the appearance of gray hair, the wrinkles on our face, or the creaks in our backs?  Now that I have white hair, my brain forgets that I’m supposed to be “OLD” yet people sometimes treat me as if I’m going to crumble into a pile of dust any second.  As for me, I would love to go dancing! Rock and Roll is playing as I type!

Looking back I wanted to know if I would EVER turn old enough to drive.  Later, I could hardly wait to turn 21 and become an adult.  After that each “0” year began to become terrifying.

Now, I too remember turning 50, thinking “How did I get this OLD this fast!”  I was at work that day fearing that someone would say “Happy Birthday” and I’d burst into tears.  This year I qualify for Medicare and I’m celebrating!  It is amazing what our mindset can do to help us over the hurdle of aging and being “OLD!”

But, I want to know what happened to the theory that “our elders” are wise and share thought-provoking truths?  Instead, I hear “Dear, we don’t do things like that anymore” or “HOW long ago was that?”

 

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N – Naturally

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“You may drive out Nature with a pitchfork, yet she still will hurry back.”   Horace

“Nature, as we know her, is no saint.”  Ralph Waldo Emerson

 

My naturally curly hair has always given me fits as it has a mind of its’ own.  Years ago when I lived at the California beach I wished my frizzy auburn hair was blond, long, and straight like on all of the other “beach bunnies.”  Hey, I wanted to be a “California Girl!”  But now I have my wish as my hair IS blond… naturally platinum blond and I don’t even have to dye it.

The hairdresser who cuts my hair is hysterical.  In her styling wisdom, she is convinced that when she cuts my hair by following its’ natural growth patterns that my hair will do as advised and follow her orders.  But like the rest of me, my hair has a mind of its’ own.  Two seconds after I walk out the salon door my hair is headed in every direction imaginable… EXCEPT what my hairdresser had in mind.  After a couple of days of lengthy conversations, my hair and I attempt to compromise our viewpoints and come to somewhat of a cooperative understanding.

As a child, my hair did natural ringlets like Shirley Temple’s, but NOT orderly arranged around my head like hers. Then when I became a teenager what was I going to do to attract boys as I looked like a witch who had put her finger in an electrical socket.  So I looked for ways to win the war and tame my hair.  I used gel and large juice cans as rollers to help curtail the curl.  I also used an iron to iron the curl right out of my hair.  Then one day a modeling company saw a picture of my tall, gangly body.  Living near Hollywood, of COURSE who wouldn’t want to be a model, so they helped show me how to style my hair and to wear make-up.  However, particularly in the 60s, I used enough gel and hairspray to tame my curl that with my bouffant hair style, particularly down at the windy California beach, my hair often looked like a spaceship about to take off from the top of my head.  I worked very hard to consistently keep my hair glued to my head.

Then I remember one time when a boyfriend took me down to Newport Beach for the day. Afterward we were going to go to Disneyland to go dancing that night.  I was scared out of my mind as this young man had never seen my natural hair style as the plan was that we were going to go body surfing before we went dancing.  However, my friend assured me that he had a friend with a shower and a bathroom that we could use.  I still laugh to this day.  The “shower” was a hose at a gas station.  The restroom had a dryer for hands, which I attempted to use to dry my hair around my juice-can curlers.  Since this young man was not familiar with the gyrations that females need to accomplish in order to make ourselves presentable, the “shower” proved inadequate as did the “dryer” for my hair.  Since my hair never properly dried, my curl and frizz eventually won over.  My date spent the evening saying, “Why don’t you go comb your hair.”

These days I have let my natural curl have its’ way … in every direction that it chooses!

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M – Memories

M

“It isn’t so astonishing, the number of things that I can remember, as the number of things I can remember that aren’t so.”  Josh Billings

“The memory of all that… No, No!  They can’t take that away from me.”   Ira Gershwin

 

“Do you trip or stub your toes frequently?” asks my physical therapist as I walked across his office so that he could observe how my back, hip, and legs operate.  “Why, I was trained as a model, and this is how we were taught to walk.” I bragged as I continued across the floor.  From behind me I heard, “… and HOW long ago was that?”  I chuckle, as in my mind, I’m STILL that svelte young woman who was interested in modeling.  Evidently, there is a discrepancy between what my physical therapist sees and what I remember… that is until I look into the mirror and realize that my mind’s eye and reality don’t quite agree.

I remember learning to walk in high heels as I was 15 years old.  The modeling company would bend my body into pretzel-like positions to pose me in front of their cameras.  I’m pretty sure I looked like a deer caught in the headlights of the truck about to run it over.  Even though I was terrified of cameras there was the part of me that was excited that this company had sought me out. The newspaper had run a story and pictures of me and my friends because we were involved in volunteering to help an elderly couple. The modeling company saw the picture and asked if I was interested in becoming a model.  Since I lived at the beach not far from Hollywood, of COURSE stars sparkled in my eyes.  Even though the modeling company eventually went out of business, and I didn’t do any modeling, I still remember THOSE days as if they were yesterday… weren’t they?

My mind still remembers a wide variety of activities that I loved from the 35 mile bike rides I rode along the California Strand between Hermosa Beach and Santa Monica, to my body surfing, to my walking the beach, and especially to my dancing at the various beach and Hollywood clubs.  I’m sure my physical therapist would fall over laughing if he knew that every time The Troggs’ song, Wild Thing, played my friends thought of me. Even to the day my best friend from high school died of breast cancer, she told me she thought of our trips to the Hullabaloo Club, whenever she heard Wild Thing.  Dancing brought joy to me.  I still love to dance. Now I dance in my kitchen thinking I’m still that kid that danced at the Hullabaloo Club.  Hopefully, my neighbors won’t wander into their yard and happen to see me dancing in front of my full-length windows, as they might call 9-1-1!

Whenever I am near the beach or the water, my memory zooms to the days when I walked miles in the sand on the edge of the surf. I loved the feel of the wind in my hair, listening to the sound of the surf, and watching the seagulls fly over the water or up into the clouds as I felt one with nature.  Now, when I walk along the sand and the surf my back goes out on me.  I keep trying to prolong my youthful memories until I look into that darn mirror.  A friend recently recommended that I throw out my mirror.  I may just take him up on that suggestion.

Posted in A to Z 2014 Bloggers' Challenge | 12 Comments

L – Love

L

“ Love given away wholeheartedly, inclusively, and unconditionally is inexhaustible.”  Anonymous

“Love is, above all, the gift of oneself.”   Jean Anouilh

 

As a child, was there someone you loved with all of your heart and wished that you would grow up to be JUST LIKE that person?  For me that was my Grandma Hazel.  She was safe, loving, and attentive.  Grandma was a marvelous cook as she made me a yummy cornstarch pudding topped with a maraschino cherry and juice… my favorite whenever I came to visit.

Grandma and I would go on shopping excursions or adventures, so we would hop on the bus to ride into downtown Seattle.  There we walked around various stores  like The Bon Marche and Frederick & Nelson’s.  I loved going up and down the escalator, so I was really sad when it was out of working order and I actually had to trudge up those humungous steps! My favorite part of the day is when we lunched in the Paul Bunyon Cafeteria in The Bon Marche.  I was thrilled to see the big Blue Ox. These times were so special for me, as I would feel like a big girl and oh so loved.  After our excursion around town we would climb back on the bus for our journey back to Queen Anne Hill and grandma’s home.

Grandma and grandpa lived in an old brick home built in the early 1900’s.  To me it seemed like a castle on top of a hill, but years later when I drove by the home, I realized how small it actually was.  Grandma would take me for walks around the neighborhood and then down to an outlook that looked out over the city of Seattle and Lake Union.  At night, I loved seeing all of the lights as they sparkled.  I felt that I had landed in a fairy land. Plus, the traffic going over the Aurora Bridge looked like a diamond bracelet as white “diamonds” shone on the edges of the bracelet with a solid red on one side of the bangle and pure white on the other side.

During the days, Grandma often made clothes for me so I would help her.  I was determined that I too would one day sew like my grandmother.  Now, as an adult I chuckle as my grandmother would lay out the fabric and pattern on the floor.  Then instead of pinning the pattern down, my beloved grandma would pull out her best silver flatware and place her silver knives carefully down to hold the pattern in place while she cut out the fabric.  As an adult, I never did learn or use grandma’s silver knife technique for keeping my patterns in place.

Over the years I always loved to spend time with my grandmother.  We worked together, she taught me to cook, we went for walks, and we watched The Ed Sullivan Show together.  As a child I witnessed Elvis Presley’s first performance on The Ed Sullivan Show on my grandparent’s black and white TV screen.

To me, my Grandmother Hazel was the dearest person in the world and I would cry when I had to leave her home.  Now when my granddaughters come to visit, we do special activities together.  The girls jump up and down when they see me open the door of my house for them and they cry when it comes time to leave.  I always remember my grandmother when I see my granddaughters.  I know my grandmother is up there looking down on us giving us her “thumbs’ up” sign of approval.  See, I am like my beloved grandmother.

 

 

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K – Kilt

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“With nothing under those kilts it can be pretty chilly.  Either way, we’ll have fun.”  Ruth Walsh

“Men that wear kilts are never caught with their pants down!!!   Unknown

The Scottish kilt evolved from the great cloak of the 16th century to the short knee length kilt of present times.  Initially, yards of woolen cloth were wrapped around a man and tied at the waist with a rope.  The leftover material was thrown over his shoulder.  The kilt itself in its original form was a very basic garment which required neither the trouble of tailoring nor the frequent replacement which a pair of breeches needed.  Also, in the early years the kilt simply represented a highland warrior, where years later the plaid kilt simply represents Scottish men and their clans.

Now in the 21st Century the kilt is the uniform worn by the warriors celebrating their Irish and Scottish heritage at the Highland Games across the United States and around the world.  Thousands of Scottish men participate in these brutal games, consequently the men frequently start working out well in advance of the games in order to build their endurance as any athlete or warrior would do.

So here in Washington State we have Scottish Games in Eatonville on the Seattle side of the Puget Sound and in Belfair over on the Kitsap Peninsula where I live.  Now since I too work at building my strength for my back, I walk laps around through the town of Poulsbo, a Norwegian community.  The town and shops are decorated in Norwegian style since the town was founded by two Norwegian brothers.  Consequently, the last thing most people would expect to see is a Scottish clansman jogging around town in his plaid kilt and highland sandals.  Since the Scottish games take place in August, it means this particular clansman must start working out in the late spring, early summer.  Jogging around town in the spring and summer becomes quite hot.  So as with most guys, this distinctive, burly, Scottish Laird jogs his laps around town in only his kilt and sandals… no shirt.  I noticed that the Scottish Laird has attracted quite a bit of female attention in his laps around town.

Years ago the Scottish men did not wear underwear with their kilts as the underwear would inhibit their aggressive war-like movements.  But, this is the 21st Century for God’s sake and elastic has now been invented.  Since this strapping, young, Scottish clansman jogs around town bare-chested daily, the town’s people and tourists’ a like remark about the stamina this man has.  They also notice that he is wearing his kilt in this Norwegian Village, so you might say, “He is quite distinctive!”

As I walk in the opposite direction on my laps through town, this young man and I give one another the “thumbs up” sign.  Also, since this Scotsman is good-looking, several of the women in the community have noticed his daily jogs.  In fact, I heard there is a bet going around down at the local diner between the waitresses as to whether this Scotsman, in true Scottish form, is wearing anything under his kilt.  Do you want to make any bets? Now, the question remains… who is going to trip him to actually find out whether he is a true Scotsman or not?

 

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J – Jingles

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“The higher animals are in a sense drawn into Man when he loves them and makes them (as he does) much more nearly human than they would otherwise be.”  C.S. Lewis

 

Jingles, our black and gray striped, tabby cat, was named for the couple of bells that mom attached to his collar.  Mom was allergic to cats, but since my childhood home was on an acre of land surrounded by woods and fields, the mice did like to come and visit.  Jingles was our hunter as he protected our house from mice, snakes, lizards, and an occasional bird.  Our home looked like a Swiss chalet nestled amidst the red leafed Ornamental Plum trees that lined the gravel road which ran along Lake Washington.  Jingle’s collar “jingled” wherever he went so mom would know where to find him as he was an inside and outside cat.

I absolutely loved Jingles as he was my baby.  I would dress him in my baby-doll’s nightgown and bonnet.  Then I would gently place him in my baby carriage to stroll around the house with him.  Or I would sit and rock Jingles as one would rock an infant.  Since I was about five or six, Jingles was quite patient with me when I charged after him to pick him up and dress him in his baby bonnet.  We also had Duchess, a German Shepherd puppy, and the two animals befriended one another.  Duchess, less than a year old, would bound around Jingles and Jingles would ignore this clumsy nuisance until he had enough.  He would simply turn, and swat Duchess across the nose.  Duchess immediately took the hint.

Jingles over the years would bring in dead mice and birds, half dead snakes, and lizards for mom’s approval.  One lizard managed to escape and we found it later on the top shelf of our bookcase in a sewing basket.  I still remember the scream of our unsuspecting housekeeper when she found that lizard in the least likely of places.

But eventually, due to my dad’s constant traveling for his job, mom and dad decided we needed to sell our home and move to California.  Dad had left and moved to California a year before us, as he was looking for a job down there.  Eventually when he found a job that meant that we needed to sell the house and drive down to our new home.  The problem… mom had me and my brother, Duchess, our now full-grown, 100 pound German Shepherd, and Jingles to fit into our 41 Chrysler, the red dog, to drive 1,500 miles to Upland, California.  How was she going to fit all of us into her car?

Mom convinced a friend to drive her own car in a caravan to California with us.  This way mom would put Duchess and either me or my brother, Jim, in her car and mom’s friend, Helen, would drive with the other child.  But cats in those days didn’t have carriers nor did you put them on leashes. Cats didn’t enjoy riding in cars.  What were we to do with Jingles?  Eventually, mom decided that Jingles would have to stay in Kirkland.  Mom gave Jingles to a family friend and we all caravanned to California in two very loaded down cars.

I was heart-broken to leave Jingles behind, and as it turns out Jingles was heart-broken too.  Every time our family friend, Norton, let Jingles outside, Jingles would take off for the beloved house where we had lived with his now deserted family.  However, the home we had left behind was several miles from Jingles’ new home with Norton.  Sooner or later our old neighbors or the people living in our old home would call Norton to tell him that Jingles had arrived.  Jingles did this repeatedly, until one day Jingles never arrived at his old beloved home.  Sometimes I see other gray and white Tabby cats that remind me of my loving buddy, Jingles.  He was intelligent, loyal, and loving as any friend is, so every time I hear a Jingle sound I look to see if Jingles has finally found me.

 

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I – Imagination

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“Imagination selects ideas from the treasures of remembrance, and produces novelty only by varied combinations.”  Samuel Johnson

“Imagination is more important than knowledge.  Knowledge is limited. Imagination encircles the world.”                 Albert Einstein

 

 Webster must have been reading my mind when he created this definition of “imagination – the act or power of forming a mental image of something not present to the senses or never before wholly perceived in reality.”  The comment “never before wholly perceived in reality” particularly resonates with me while I walk the Poulsbo waterfront on a sunny, windy day as my mind soars with the seagulls.  I have always loved the water, the surf, and watching the birds seemingly dangle in the sky.  The seagulls effortlessly float high in the air and I want to join them.  I have often dreamed that I would like to fly like a seagull.  I’m sure the wind could effortlessly carry me up just like the seagulls, herons, osprey and eagles.  Heck, I’m only a little larger… 5’10”.  If some of the larger birds’ wing-spans are six feet, surely the wind would carry me too. Sometimes the wind along the marina blows so hard I visualize climbing the railing on the boardwalk to do an elegant Swan dive right off the rail straight into the sky to soar with my feathered friends.  But this is when reality intrudes and then I see myself go “splat” into the mud and rocks below.  I can only hope that if I DO launch myself off the railing that at least the tide will be in.  A bit of water, would make a softer landing… sort of like a whale leaping gracefully out of the ocean rather than landing like a beached whale in the mud.

One day as the wind whipped across the water and through the trees, I walked with my head down as I plowed forward against the wind along the waterfront.  I wore a heavy sweater that seemed to act more as a parachute as it billowed out behind me dragging me back. I truly believed that the wind would carry me up with the seagulls as even the seagulls were simply suspended like puppets, going nowhere. While walking I talked with a buddy, wondering aloud if the wind would carry me up to the heavens.  Since my buddy had more experience sailing than I, when I indicated the direction I would skyrocket myself from the railing into the gusts of wind, he turned to me and simply responded, “You’ll fly backwards.”  I don’t think he realized my ability to shoot into the air, somersault around, and glide with the other birds.  I’m sure I could look like I was effortlessly circling around playing just like the seagulls and blackbirds.

Another time while I was down at the marina a seal was having fun chasing schools of baby fish around the docks.  The seal would spin like a twisted torpedo shooting through the water past the dock and the boats moored there.  Watching the seal, I remembered my school days doing water ballet and visualized myself down with the seal performing our somersaults and romping together.  I also am REALLY happy that Great White Sharks don’t venture into our marina as I sure wouldn’t want to be playing with those seals and end up as an appetizer to that shark.  Heck, he’d probably spit me out… I’m too tough!

 

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