Thought for The Day - Give Me a Little Time

Just a few minutes more
Just a few more
To savor this moment
To hang on to this sunset
And the gentle breeze
Whistling through the trees
Just a few seconds longer
To hold on to my beloved
To hold her closer and feel the warmth of her breath
Near my face
Before running off to work
And a life without her presence
Allow me an hour or two
Standing before this canvas,
"Work" isn't laborious or grueling
Pleasure is found in each brush stroke
The one to come as significant as the many before
One more day of life
Comes and goes quickly
Time passes faster than the whisper of your name
But each moment
Each day
And each hour
Caught
Savored
Lingering
Leaves an indelible mark on my heart
Marking both me and history
Declaring I was here
You were there
And we loved each breath taken

Thought for The Day - Mission Impossible

Sleeping Beauty 8 x 11 pencil drawing

Shooting from the Hip...

Life long journey, at it for more days than my conscious mind could reason. Fighting each day to make this life have meaning. I've done what everyone else does, I put books in my hand and words in my head, trying to make sense of the life I've been given. Some days, I'm not sure if I got the logic down.

So I put brush in oil-based pigments and touched canvas: energy and light! Except there aren't enough hours in the day or a return to the tune of giving up the day job. My expression of love gets pushed to the side and gets hobby level hours. What's in me? What light dwells beneath these brown eyes? My daily words try to express it, write and post on Google to record my time here. Sharing a good word, or a gut wrenching truthful word, all the while, more words spill out everywhere else.

I put them - the words - in sermons, telling the good news to congregations that heard a quarter of what I said. Every now and then someone acknowledged deeper waters. Taught in classes where the focus is on a Man who loved us so deeply, he wrote it through ghost writers over thousands of years. We still wont believe or try to hear what he says.

It seems like a mission impossible, an assignment we should just close the books on, blow this blue and green rock out of orbit and be gone. But if it's a mission with no possibility of a return, we will keep at it until every bit of light (love) is spilled on those who reject it. But it's an endless source, so the mission is not impossible. I/We will win!

Thought for The Day - Giving from My Being

A Reply 24 x 34 Oils

Something I observed as a child, was my father engaged in conversation with others. For the most part, he didn't have much to say, but the other person would be talking a mile a minute! And he would stand there with a huge smile on his face and occasional words "oh yeah?" or the one he's famous for "great day!" Believe me, this could and did, go on for hours; one of the worse times was getting cornered at his previous pastor's house after my father made repairs to his roof. We were there longer listening to story after story, than it took to do the repairs! And my father didn't seem to mind. I remember on so many times like this, thinking "I don't want to listen that much; I want to be heard too!" I often wondered with whom he shared his life story. I sense there was no ear there to catch his stories...

The person I've grown into, is the person whose kindness and generosity impressed me the most: my father. I am my "father's son, listening constantly. So much so, I almost went the route of professional counselor. I listen, for the most part and while I listen empathically, I have always yearned to be heard as well. I give my ear, my prayers and my concern. But I've tried to give based on the needs of others as they are expressed. I have changed my personality to fit the complaints and requests of others. But I'm learning, in playing this game of contortionist, I experience pains while the intended person sits comfortably, enjoying the show. No one recognizes the effort until I withdraw from the show and then it is perceived that something is wrong with me. 

I'm choosing to give, but more so, from who I am. It doesn't matter the "why" I'm choosing it now, though I suspect it is at this time of life where I'm less inclined to care what others think of me. I just want to be myself and whether that means I am "heard" or not, I am choosing to do me. Decisions hover above and I wonder do I pluck down a "yes" or "no." Personal "Thought for The Day" may become dinosaurs in a bit! That's one of those decisions hanging on a string. You know, you can love people, care for them, but while love is in an action, an energy, there are times when it must see it's reflection. Giving; there has to be a return, a conversation; as much as we like to believe love simply gives, it must also receive.

Thought for The Day - What is This Thing Called Love?

Of a Feather 18 x 24 pastels

I have the above titled song as it was recorded by Charles Mingus and it is 8 minutes of pure joy. But before I launched off into expressions about the song, I did a quick search for the song's origin. Written by Cole Porter and performed in a Broadway musical "Wake up and Dream" (another popular thought for a "modern world). But here's my true focal perspective: music and for me, in particular Jazz music.

I woke this morning, prepared to face the day. There's always a lot to do, even on the weekends, yet I prefer to start my day with writing. It is the basis of communication and as I was taught so many years ago, I like to spend time communicating with my Father. Often times, I'm accompanied by music in this process, my computer loaded with 'enough' music to last several days. But this morning, I went to YouTube and on my list of recommendations was a full recording of a concert, Gregory Porter being the star of the show.

The concert takes place in Amsterdam and he sings with the support of the Metropole Orchestra. Now this is Jazz, with a full sized orchestra and Gregory's velvety voice! Sheer beauty! Wait a minute now, Jazz music sang in a classic setting; music that is traditionally improvisational, with near unpredictable shifts and rises and falls, sang with an orchestra and sheet music! And you know what? They rocked and rolled with Gregory as if the sheet music contained every possible rise and fall, turn and shift!

But that is this thing Called Love. We are traveler's on this journey and while we may believe we travel alone, there are so many unseen and seen fellow sojourners. What is this thing called love? It is the assistance we receive and the beauty we create along the way. It is the sheer joy of this journey and it's strange, out of nowhere pain. It is discovering something new and remembering some forgotten moment of joy. And once again, it is sharing this thing, the thing we call L-O-V-E.

Thought for The Day - W-O-R-K

The Beginning Of... 18 x 24 Pastels

Not your classic four letter word and I guess it goes to a fallen nature to think work is a necessary evil. It's a necessary benefit and blessing! But I'm not talking about the type of work where your hands, feet, mouth and mind move without regards to your soul. No, I'm referring to work that springs from caring and compassion. I've watched my wife for years, as she prepares lessons or as she does these days, reading material and researching strategies to guide children as they grow. I know artists, writers and health care professionals who aren't pretending they love what they're doing, they are living the life as if they were a child at play.

You know, even children work; when a child is having fun, usually they aren't doing it sitting still. They are active, their hands and feet and mind and body playing a game or pretending they are creating an imaginary world. Their mind and soul prepare them to live a life full of joy. But it's the adult world with a series of choices that bend them into bitter adults, dreading the majority of any given day. It's our droning on and on about "getting ready to face the real world" and "get a job that pays good money," as if that is all we live for.

Could we have a "do-over?" Could we erase the slate and try this again? I for one, would love to write about fantasies and stories with happy endings. I would rather spend my time coloring the world we live in and playing as if nothing mattered. But...

It's a matter of choice: curse or blessing. It's a matter of perspective.