Time

Time.  It fills everyday.  Our lives revolve around it and through it.  We moan about it, we wish for it.  Yet, what is it?  To give it one simple definition is something that has made even intellectuals scratch their heads.  Some view time as part of the basic structure of life and the universe, that in time things happen in a sequence.  Others believe that time is not an entity or a happening, that it cannot be measured.
Most people, however, would agree that although we know that a minute holds sixty seconds and an hour has sixty minutes, time has a very subjective quality associated with it.  It is closely linked to our emotions. Waiting for the bus to arrive can make a few minutes feel like an hour especially if you are running late, while the opposite is true when one does not want a period of time to pass too quickly.  Then a week-end of forty-eight hours plus can seem as if it passed in the blink of an eye.
Whether you view time scientifically or philosophically, we all are subjected to its passing. Some of us view it as a gift, while others view it as a curse.  It cannot be bought, nor can it be given away or even captured.  It cannot be unspent or re-spent.
Sometimes we perceive time as a tormentor, when old age is prolonged beyond our understanding.  When time granted is short, we feel it is playing a cruel trick on us and it leaves us with unanswered questions, yet to the butterfly those few hours of life is enough for it to fulfill its life's purpose with such an abundance of joy that it leaves us enthralled.
To me, every moment of time is precious, but even so I find it impossible to engrave every moment in my memory.  What a blessing photographs are!  However, I wish that I could have captured not only the special moments, but also those ordinary mundane moments, those real life moments that link the special moments together. Little butterfly moments. I would keep them in a viewing jar.  How wonderful it would be to every now and again slip into my viewing jar and relive some of those snatches of time.  The first time my parents looked at me, the nights my dad tucked me in.  The coffee-fresh mornings in the game park when the day just awoke.  The day my mom sang at my wedding - what a surprise!  Those moments of silly laughter with my sister in the mall, the day she took me to the library. The first day I held my children in my arms, bundling them up against all the sharpness of the world, their first smiles.  Crossing the street, holding onto their tiny, trusting little hands.  My husband's first look of adoration, the early morning warmth of his embrace. All those days he would make the people around him laugh. The endless days of play with my brother.  The special times when I helped bath my little nephew, now a grown man.  The last day I saw my dad, just so I can have a chance to say all the things I never did.  The day my friend and I sat on a street corner, painting the sunrise.  Those cold winter days when my mom would fetch me from school and we would go get warm pies from the old bakery.  These are but a few.
How precious our memories are, and over time they become more so.  That is surely why the old folk speak about "The Good 'ole Days" even though they were often times of hardship.  Time has a way to glorify even the worst of times and the worst of sinners.  Time, elusive as it might appear at times, is a healing balm and a reflecting mirror.  What moments would you like to keep in a viewing jar?  How about sharing them with us here on my blog?
Thank you for stopping by and reading.  I would love to hear from you, so please feel free to leave a comment.  For reading more about time go to this link http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Time

With all your Heart

A couple of weeks ago we had quite a storm here.  I remember standing at the window and watched as the lightning lit up the sky and the thunder rumbled and shook the windows.  I felt quite frightened and very insignificant.  The storm raged for about half an hour followed by hours of drenching rain.  I am in awe of the power of nature.

Whenever we go to the Kruger National Park, we are all very excited to see the beautiful animals in their natural habitat.  We usually make it a challenge who would see the Big Five first.  Each of us has our favourite , but I am particularly fascinated by the elephant.  Apart from its impressive size there is something majestic about its whole demeanor.  When an elephant trumpets it is as if the whole forest listens in a hushed silence.  Whenever we encounter this magnificent animal we would all watch in awe as it makes its way through the bush and effortlessly snaps off a branch in its way.

Some years ago my husband and I went to an open air concert of Elton John's.  I will always remember the excitement reverberating amongst the fans, it was as if the air was laden with electricity ready to ignite.  When the superstar came on stage the cheering and hand clapping were deafening. When he started to play it felt as if the piano echoed within my very being and the melody swept me off my feet.  I was utterly in awe of his amazing talent.  In that sea of people I felt totally insignificant.

Why am I talking about a raging storm, a gigantic animal and an impressive musician?  What do they have in common?  Greatness.  We look at them with awe and we are humbled.  We become aware of how small we are, how trivial we are.  The world in general are impressed by greatness.  We admire that which is impressive, regal, special and phenomenal.  Like a moth to a candle, people are drawn to celebrities and achievers.  We believe that to be of any importance we must do great things.  We believe we have to perform miracles, achieve top position in our class, win first prize and see our name in newspapers and the media.  We become obsessed by achievements.

However, this belief often sets us up for disappointment and even failure.  We become so lost in the idea of what we should be and what we should achieve that we loose sight of what is important.  Don't get me wrong, it is important that we have a goal to strive for, it is important that we try to improve ourselves.  However, when it becomes an obsession, when we feel that it is all or bust, then we need to reconsider.

I take you back to the storm.  The next day there were still puddles everywhere and the grass certainly looked greener.  Everything looked fresh and clean.  However, the street was littered with broken branches and leaves.  A tree had fallen over onto some telephone lines and a few of the lower houses were flooded.  The storm brought much needed rain to the area, but it was far from perfect.  Compare it now with the gentle moisture the dewdrops bring every morning.  Although we hardly notice them as we rush off to work, they do their job quietly, quenching the thirst of the grass, the daffodils and the insects. 

The elephant, so magnificent and awe-inspiring, yet trees are stripped of their bark and bushes are trampled underfoot.  A dung beetle hastily scampers away, and after the beast has passed, carries on cleaning the forest floor.   A butterfly, barely noticed, flits by, pollinating as it goes from flower to flower.  Insignificant in the vastness of the forest, yet so important.

The cry of a baby, the chuckle of a toddler, the little voice in a choir, and the twitter of birds on the morning air, none of these have superstar status, but they all have their part to play in the symphony of  live.  Each one important and adding their beauty to complete the picture.

We were not all called to be mega stars, not all of us will do great things, but all of us can do little things with greatness. Do every little thing well and one day you will realize that there were no little things.  They were all great things!  That kind word you spoke stopped somebody from ending their life, that smile you gave as you passed gave somebody new hope, that door you held open made somebody believe in goodness.  You will never know what impact you have had on somebody, but they will always remember what your action has meant to them.

Do little things with all your heart, that is where true greatness comes from.

 

Fly Up High!

I love looking at kites flying high in the sky.  I remember the first kite I ever had was a butterfly kite my dad bought for me one beach holiday.  I loved it, although it was not a good flier.  I could not wait to hold the string all by myself, and begged my dad to do it on my own.  In my young mind I thought it would fly better if I were to let go of the string, but although it took off with a great "whoosh", it soon tumbled from the sky and got tangled in the undergrowth.  Painstakingly my dad untangled it and we tried again.
From a very young age we have been raised to do things for ourselves.  Almost from the moment our children are born we encourage them to become independent,  we are ecstatic when they start sitting up by themselves,  we applaud them when they can hold onto their own bottle and we are ready with the camera to record their first unaided, wobbly steps.  Day by day we marvel at how their independence grows.  Of course there is nothing wrong with that, it is the natural way of life.  However, the problem comes in when we become so independent, so self-sufficient, that we start believing  we need nobody else, we can do it all, we are an island.
This type of thinking will lead you on a bitter and lonely road.  "Needing people" is seen by fiercely independent people as a weakness.  They believe that they have to be a Superhero, strong, undefeatable, self-sufficient, powerful.  They never ask for help, never admit defeat and never open up to anybody.  They even experience God as an entity outside of their lives, remote from their lives. To accept and receive anything is foreign to their whole being.  Very often they not only distance themselves from other people, but they even distance themselves from their own feelings.
People need people.  We have to connect with others, learn from others, inspire others and in turn be inspired by them. Independence that is out of control is actually just a mask to hide behind.  Behind the mask often lurks fear, pride and low self-esteem.  It is a way to protect ourselves from disappointment, hurt or rejection.
Looking up at the sky, watching the kites ducking and diving in the breeze, I relate it to the way life is.  Although the kite is tethered by the string, it sails through the air and rides the wind with such freedom, such abandon that it leaves me breathless with excitement.  As my dad explained that day on the beach, it is the very fact that it is held by the string that it can fly so high and so gracefully.  The minute my little hands let go of the string, my kite's future was lost and all it could do was to tumble down and crash.  It needs that connection, that guiding hand to fly.  The same way we need to be connected to God, to interact with others as it is in that connection and that interaction that we find our true strength, new inspiration and freedom.  
I leave you with a quote from a song by Barbra Streisand : "People who need people are the luckiest people in the world!"

On Fragile Wings

Yesterday the wind blew fiercely and with it came an ice cold wind.  Yet, despite the wind we had such a lovely time visiting with friends, that it was well worth it to venture out into the wind and cold.  I normally do not like the wind, especially those kinds of winds that howl around the corners of the house.  It usually makes me feel quite vulnerable, maybe because it reminds me of times when I feel fragile, like a butterfly tossed in the wind.  Times that I feel like crawling into my cocoon and hiding.  This feeling of vulnerability is quite scary, but even more frightening is the idea that others might notice my frailness.  Being vulnerable is perceived as being weak, shameful.  Vulnerability is tagged as being emotional, even irrational.  Weakness leaves us exposed and at the mercy of others, therefore we go to great lenghts to hide it. 

We become quite adept at concealing our vulnerabilities.  Some people don the mask of cynicism or sarcasm to hide behind.  Others use criticism or hostility to hide their fragileness.  Others wrap the cloak of aloofness tightly around their delicate frame.  The consequence of this, however, is that often it is the very mask we wear that end up hurting us even more. The cynic who is yearning to believe, to trust, finds that what he suspected is true, the critic, fearing judgement, ends up being judged because of her judgemental nature, and the aloof who bulletproof themselves from rejection, tends to stay on the sidelines, feeling excluded. 

We armour ourselves with defence mechanisms, strong armour to keep hurt at bay, but the opposite is also true, we keep healing, love and nurturing away from ourselves.  Inside our cocoons we are safe, but also alone.  The bad cannot easily reach us there, but neither can the good.  Tightly wrapped up inside our cocoons, we can never be free, never develop the strength of our wings.

Despite what the world says, being vulnerable is not being weak, it is being truthful to ourselves.  It is facing the true me and accepting myself for who I am.  By climbing out of my cocoon, I open myself up to the chance of being hurt, yes, but I open myself up to so much more.  I open myself up to love, to acceptance, to joy and beauty, to my own uniquely created self.  I expose myself to growth and transformation.  A butterfly can only become what it is destined to be by leaving the cocoon behind.  Its true beauty can only be revealed when it spreads its fragile wings.  Maybe it encounters strong winds, but maybe, it will be carried along by a gentle breeze underneath its wings.....

Butterfly Moments

Time.  It fills everyday.  Our lives revolve around it and through it.  We moan about it, we wish for it.  Yet, what is it?  To give it one simple definition is something that has made even intellectuals scratch their heads.  Some view time as part of the basic structure of life and the universe, that in time things happen in a sequence.  Others believe that time is not an entity or a happening, that it cannot be measured.
Most people, however, would agree that although we know that a minute holds sixty seconds and an hour has sixty minutes, time has a very subjective quality associated with it.  It is closely linked to our emotions. Waiting for the bus to arrive can make a few minutes feel like an hour especially if you are running late, while the opposite is true when one does not want a period of time to pass too quickly.  Then a week-end of forty-eight hours plus can seem as if it passed in the blink of an eye.
Whether you view time scientifically or philosophically, we all are subjected to its passing. Some of us view it as a gift, while others view it as a curse.  It cannot be bought, nor can it be given away or even captured.  It cannot be unspent or re-spent.
Sometimes we perceive time as a tormentor, when old age is prolonged beyond our understanding.  When time granted is short, we feel it is playing a cruel trick on us and it leaves us with unanswered questions, yet to the butterfly those few hours of life is enough for it to fulfill its life's purpose with such an abundance of joy that it leaves us enthralled.
To me, every moment of time is precious, but even so I find it impossible to engrave every moment in my memory.  What a blessing photographs are!  However, I wish that I could have captured not only the special moments, but also those ordinary mundane moments, those real life moments that link the special moments together. Little butterfly moments. I would keep them in a viewing jar.  How wonderful it would be to every now and again slip into my viewing jar and relive some of those snatches of time.  The first time my parents looked at me, the nights my dad tucked me in.  The coffee-fresh mornings in the game park when the day just awoke.  The day my mom sang at my wedding - what a surprise!  Those moments of silly laughter with my sister in the mall, the day she took me to the library. The first day I held my children in my arms, bundling them up against all the sharpness of the world, their first smiles.  Crossing the street, holding onto their tiny, trusting little hands.  My husband's first look of adoration, the early morning warmth of his embrace. All those days he would make the people around him laugh. The endless days of play with my brother.  The special times when I helped bath my little nephew, now a grown man.  The last day I saw my dad, just so I can have a chance to say all the things I never did.  The day my friend and I sat on a street corner, painting the sunrise.  Those cold winter days when my mom would fetch me from school and we would go get warm pies from the old bakery.  These are but a few.
How precious our memories are, and over time they become more so.  That is surely why the old folk speak about "The Good 'ole Days" even though they were often times of hardship.  Time has a way to glorify even the worst of times and the worst of sinners.  Time, elusive as it might appear at times, is a healing balm and a reflecting mirror.  What moments would you like to keep in a viewing jar?  How about sharing them with us here on my blog?
Thank you for stopping by and reading.  I would love to hear from you, so please feel free to leave a comment.  For reading more about time go to this link http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Time .

The Gift

Every Friday morning a few of us get together to paint, draw, chat and doodle.  All week long we rush around, taxi children, do chores, but come Friday it is our time, it is the start of our week-end.  For those few hours we create and recharge our batteries.  No critics are allowed, no negative talk and no self-sabotage!  What we all marvel at is the fact that although sometimes one of us might not feel in the mood, or might feel tired or depressed, by the end of our session, we all feel energized and on top of the world.  In fact, we find it extremely difficult to stop what we are doing, the creative sluices are wide open.

Being creative is one of the best forms of therapy, it brings healing and peace beyond our understanding.  I think the reason for that is that through the creative process we draw closer to God's heart, because He is the great Creator, our creativity is not from ourselves, but from the Lord.  He bestows the gift of creativity on each and everyone of his children, with no favouritism, but somehow we allow the world and its critics to steal that gift away from us.  We fall for the lies we are being told by the world - you are not talented enough, you are not creative, your talent is of little use, etc etc. 
It is amazing to watch little children drawing, painting or doing anything creative.  They do it with such absolute conviction and confidence.  Not for a second do they question that blob of red paint they've put on the paper, it IS a dog, a cat, a cow.  Of course the sky is green, the river purple and a giraffe has three legs.  They do not doubt their artistic ability or criticise their own efforts, and they are equally enthusiastic about their playmates' artwork.  Unfortunately, too soon the words and ideas of the world creep in and plant the ugly seeds of criticism and self-doubt, and that flamboyant young artist becomes an adult that 'cannot even draw a stick figure'!
Pablo Picasso said that all children are artists, the problem is how to remain an artist once he grows up.  It is definitely time for everyone to close the doors to the opinion of the world and reconnect with that artist hiding inside.  Life is a canvas - so come on, throw all the paint you have at it!!!  Do it today!
Have a look at Friday's page, it's a great way to entice that artist out of his/her hiding place.

If you flutter by here, please feel free to leave a comment, or to share your thoughts on creativity with us.  Just click on the words "no comment" or "1 Comment" and follow the prompts.  I would LOVE to hear from you.

Be Brave, Little Dreamer....

I have a dream.

I know you have a dream too.
Dreams to humans are as sunlight is to plants.  It is woven into our DNA.  It is the way our spirit reaches out to something more, something better, something higher than ourselves.  Yet few, very few, of us ever realise our dreams, live our dreams.  Our dreams get stifled and wither away to mere long forgotten fleeting thoughts.  Just as plants cannot grow in darkness and cannot thrive in the shadows of the trees, dreams cannot see the light of day when they are over shadowed by fear, doubt or negativity.  The acid rain of unbelief dissolves the fragile wings of our dreams and cripple them mercilessly.  Our dreams become ghosts with names like "I-Wish-Had", "If-Only" and "It-Was-Not-Meant-To-Be".

Doubt, Negativity, Unbelief, Self-Sabotage, Fear are all Dream-Killers, and we are their accomplices.  We enable these thoughts to destroy our dreams, to relegate them to File 13.  We allow our internal dialogue to accuse our dreams , find them guilty without a fair trial and sentence them to a life in limbo.  Many years later we find the Cold Case of our dreams on the shelf and we wonder why we ever let go of them, and we are left with the bitter taste of regret in our hearts.

Let us no longer be Dream-Killers.  Today is the day of your dream, whatever it may be, however small it might be, or huge.  Today is the day to give voice to it.  Write your dream in BIG BOLD letters on a brand new blank page.  There is nothing that stands between you and your dream except for that which you allow to stand between you and your dream.  Look at your dream. Imagine what it will feel like to live your dream.  Feel it, taste it.  Write everything about your dream down.  What it is you would need to make your dream come true.  What is the first step you would need to take to make your dream come true?  Write it down, be honest.  Look at your dream from all sides.  Is this truly your dream?  It is never any use to try to live someone else's dream for your life, it has to be authentically yours.  Remember it is YOUR dream, you need nobody's permission to dream it, no-ones stamp of approval or endorsement.  Don't be embarrassed by your dream, or think it is too small or insignificant, or too outrageous or impossible.  Don't compromise your dream.

Now that you have been brave enough to write your dream down - in BOLD letters, I want you to make yourself some flash cards.  Put these all over the house, in your car, at the office to constantly remind yourself about your dream and the steps you have to take to realize it.  Come on now, don't be shy, don't give in to fear.  Yes, I know, it is daunting to have it out there in the open, but be BRAVE!

Next it is time to take the first step.  No! Don't say you'll do it tomorrow!  NOW is the time, the time to stop dreaming and to start DOING.  Only ACTION can turn your dream into a reality.  Don't put it off for another day, for tomorrow, we don't own tomorrow, we have just this moment.  What is it you have to do right now to start your dream journey?  Is it putting out that newly lit cigarette?  Saying no to the piece of cake sitting on your desk and waiting for you to take the first bite?  Signing the registration papers for the course you've been dreaming about taking for so long?  Cutting up your credit card?  Signing up at the gym? Whatever it is, do it NOW!

Remember, you can be whatever you dream.  You have no limits, God created you to be all you want to be.  You are not who you think you are, you are everything God knows you can be.  Make this the year that you will not only dream, but the year that you will live your dream!!  Be like the butterfly that leaves the coccoon , reach out with tender wings and fly.  Be brave, little dreamer....

If you flutter by here and would like to share your dream with us, please feel free to do so.  Just click on the words "no comment" or "1 comment" and follow the prompts.  I am looking forward to hearing from you.

The First Day

Early this morning I stood at her bed and watched her sleep, the curls on her pillow dancing around her head like dozens of butterflies, baby-like innocence still visible in the sleepy contours of her face.  Soon I'll have to wake her, but I put the moment off a little while longer, knowing that when I do, she'll be waking up to the first day of her last year at school.  My baby girl is now in grade 12!!  It seems impossible.  Where have the years disappeared to?  Minutes and hours, days and seasons, all have slipped back into Father Time's treasure chest.
As I watched her sleeping, time fell away and I recalled that first day of school 12 years ago.  The excitement was running high!  When I got to her room that morning to wake her up she was already awake, slipping on her crisp new, tiny little uniform on an even tinier body.  She flashed me a big toothy grin.  Her blond hair, usually an untame-able mass of curls, hanging loose over her shoulders.  The new ribbons were lying neatly folded next to her brush, waiting for me to tie them up in two ponytails.  How my heart fluttered at that sight, and how my heart flutters still!
I left her to sleep a while longer, and went to the kitchen to prepare her a breakfast of eggs and yogurt.  When I got to her room with the tray she was awake.  Excitement was again in the air, but a more contained and grown-up excitement. Oh, my girl!!  Do you know the love I have in my heart for you?  Do you feel my prayers following you wherever you go?  May this be a special year for you, my little butterfly.  May the winds ever be gentle beneath your wings and may you only find life's sweetest nectar.  You are dearly loved.

If you flutter by here, please feel free to comment.  Maybe these thoughts stir up your own memories of your children's first day at school, or maybe this year is that first day for your child, then please share them here with us.  Just click on the words "no comment" or "1 comment" and follow the prompts.  I look forward to hearing from you.