Flip Side Friday #18 – A Life I Love!

more running mask

I reserve my Friday posts for more personal musings. I reserve the first half of December for taking account of the year and the second half of December for coming up with what I want to be, do and have for the following year.  I always have more journal pages than I have room to post so I also use Friday for that.

This past year I have used three different masks as my personal avatars. I use them to represent me in my journals. This year I have a runner, a backpacker and a meditator. I made the masks from photos of myself so I could really feel represented. HOWEVER – I did the scissor diet – LOL – I trimmed my weight by about 5 pounds by trimming the mask.

I am proud to say that I have now become the same silhouette as the mask on a permanent basis. AND this year I ran more, backpacked more and meditated daily. It was an experiment to see if I could BE my vision. Could I DO my vision and could I HAVE my vision i.e. A Life I Love? The experiment is a success!

And as a bonus (there were many) the poetry of Mary Oliver!

I HAPPENED TO BE STANDING

~ Mary Oliver

I don’t know where prayers go,
or what they do.
Do cats pray, while they sleep
half-asleep in the sun?
Does the opossum pray as it
crosses the street?
The sunflowers? The old black oak
growing older every year?
I know I can walk through the world,
along the shore or under the trees,
with my mind filled with things
of little importance, in full
self-attendance.  A condition I can’t really
call being alive.
Is a prayer a gift, or a petition,
or does it matter?
The sunflowers blaze, maybe that’s their way.
Maybe the cats are sound asleep.  Maybe not.

While I was thinking this I happened to be standing
just outside my door, with my notebook open,
which is the way I begin every morning.
Then a wren in the privet began to sing.
He was positively drenched in enthusiasm,
I don’t know why.  And yet, why not.
I wouldn’t pursuade you from whatever you believe
or whatever you don’t.  That’s your business.
But I t hought, of the wren’s singing, what could this be
if it isn’t a prayer?
So I just listened, my pen in the air.

 

 

 

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