tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-83904695202151386252024-03-13T09:13:25.691-07:00Robin L. Naeger, AuthorRobin L Naegerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06948891883091987585noreply@blogger.comBlogger20125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8390469520215138625.post-55235313897621288692023-11-12T13:23:00.000-08:002023-11-12T13:23:30.701-08:00<p> This is just a test... Time to revamp my website and it has been a while since I did anything on it, so I will be learning this all over again! Good thing I love an adventure!</p><p>The goal is to make it a place where my books can be introduced and sold and i can have a relationship of communication with my readers, as well as with other authors and anyone who loves a good dialog about life, the universe and.... well, you know... everything. </p><p>today I am just posting this to see where it goes from here (Blogger) </p><p>it is November, and I choose to do a family cookbook, which I am excited to do, but which doesn't have the same built-in motivation to write that a good story and intriguing characters do. maybe it should?! Hmmmm</p>Robin L Naegerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06948891883091987585noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8390469520215138625.post-3601451026206284352022-10-30T14:31:00.000-07:002022-10-30T14:31:47.242-07:00<p style="text-align: center;"><u><b>The Universe in my Mind</b></u></p><p style="text-align: center;"> My heart says</p><p style="text-align: center;"><span> free the children</span><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span>let them be, who they will be</span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span>my heart says</span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span>they're the answer</span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span>they will teach us, to be free</span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span>my heart says</span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span>all the people</span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span>past and present, are but one</span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span>my heart longs for</span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span>connection, inspiration, fun</span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span>to remember all of my parts</span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span>to honor their sacrifice, </span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span>their visions, and their courage</span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span>my heart thinks that would be nice</span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span>my heart says come together</span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span>listen now, and</span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span>be made whole</span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span>my heart says drop</span></p><p style="text-align: center;">my defenses</p><p style="text-align: center;">rest, love, let go </p><p style="text-align: center;">the illusion of control</p><p style="text-align: center;">when I listen to my heart</p><p style="text-align: center;">my whole world is aligned</p><p style="text-align: center;">and I inhabit peaceful planets</p><p style="text-align: center;">in the universe in my mind</p><p style="text-align: center;"><span><br /></span></p>Robin L Naegerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06948891883091987585noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8390469520215138625.post-74521981554963106222022-10-30T14:21:00.000-07:002022-10-30T14:21:12.216-07:00<p style="text-align: right;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: right;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: right;">I have a little defect</p><p style="text-align: right;">I see you have it too</p><p style="text-align: right;">or, maybe it's a fun gift</p><p style="text-align: right;">just to see what we will do</p><p style="text-align: right;">life's all a matter of perspective</p><p style="text-align: right;">its just framing, and narrative</p><p style="text-align: right;">how I choose to use mine</p><p style="text-align: right;">sets my intention</p><p style="text-align: right;">of how I want to live</p><p style="text-align: right;">so I will try, friend</p><p style="text-align: right;">to remember</p><p style="text-align: right;">to treat you like the gift you are</p><p style="text-align: right;">another part of me</p><p style="text-align: right;">another piece</p><p style="text-align: right;">a fragment</p><p style="text-align: right;">of the same bright star </p>Robin L Naegerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06948891883091987585noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8390469520215138625.post-9712825174847767772022-10-30T14:10:00.000-07:002022-10-30T14:10:43.972-07:00<p style="text-align: center;"> </p><p style="text-align: center;"><b><i><br /></i></b></p><p style="text-align: center;"><b><i>B</i></b><b><i><span style="font-family: verdana;">efore I came here</span></i></b></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><b><i>I was everywhere else</i></b></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><b><i>I was all of us</i></b></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><b><i>I was wholly myself</i></b></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><b><i>but we, when we live here</i></b></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><b><i>take on so much other</i></b></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><b><i>we forget who we are</i></b></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><b><i>by all else, we are smothered</i></b></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><b><i>it takes so much focus</i></b></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><b><i>such presence of mind</i></b></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><b><i>to burst free from beneath,</i></b></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><b><i>our true nature to find</i></b></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><b><i>but my friend I do urge you</i></b></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><b><i>take sure steps to be free</i></b></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><b><i>find the child deep inside you</i></b></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: verdana;"><b><i>she'll know who you should be</i></b></span></p>Robin L Naegerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06948891883091987585noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8390469520215138625.post-62498203656248076822021-12-03T10:15:00.002-08:002021-12-03T10:15:40.593-08:00<p style="text-align: center;"><b><u>trebuchet</u></b></p><p style="text-align: center;">first off let me just say, I began by choosing a font </p><p style="text-align: center;">this time not for what it might look like, but for the name of it</p><p style="text-align: center;">let's see if it fits!</p><p style="text-align: center;">last year, I was set to be an author full time</p><p style="text-align: center;">I had a handful of stories and poems I was working on</p><p style="text-align: center;">I had done the November 50,000 word challenge</p><p style="text-align: center;">I had the rough draft of my next book</p><p style="text-align: center;">I had just published my first children's book</p><p style="text-align: center;">and then...</p><p style="text-align: center;">I was once again asked to run for office in our county as Public Administrator</p><p style="text-align: center;">and I won</p><p style="text-align: center;">(is a slingshot a trebuchet?)</p><p style="text-align: center;">because of that, I now work more than full-time at a fairly intense job</p><p style="text-align: center;">and write... almost never</p><p style="text-align: center;">no time, no brain power left at the end of a day</p><p style="text-align: center;">this past November I made a few attempts</p><p style="text-align: center;">but I could never keep a story going between calls from facilities and wards and support staff</p><p style="text-align: center;">still, I have things to say, stories to tell</p><p style="text-align: center;">I just don't want to chuck them at you willy nilly with no precision</p><p style="text-align: center;">ah, trebuchet, there it is!</p><p style="text-align: center;">I want to share</p><p style="text-align: center;">sharing is best in close proximity</p><p style="text-align: center;">the thing I am finding difficult is the very thing I used to do with ease</p><p style="text-align: center;">draw you in, close, evoke emotion</p><p style="text-align: center;">It's the difference between handing off a lovely pie, and chucking pumpkins!</p><p style="text-align: center;">which, by the way, is an excellent use of a trebuchet!</p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p>Robin L Naegerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06948891883091987585noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8390469520215138625.post-16113587399291981832021-12-03T09:03:00.000-08:002021-12-03T09:03:09.980-08:00<p> </p><h1>Trees I’ve known<o:p></o:p></h1>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 18.0pt; line-height: 107%;">When I find
myself struggling with the chaos in my mind, my favorite place to go is a time
where I lived in trees. (Also, a time where I was in constant relationships with
horses and dogs. But that is another story)<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 18.0pt; line-height: 107%;">I close my
eyes and breath deep and place myself somewhere in the house I grew up in. I
might take the time to dress myself and put on my favorite sneakers and grab a
couple carrots and an apple. Often these days, my need to find myself is too
great and I just assume all of that is in place already, and head right out the door onto the concrete
patio. I pull the sliding door shut silently because often I was leaving while
others in the house were still asleep. I take in a breath and taste the early
morning air. The musk of rotting leaves mixed with the fresh scent of evergreen
lay at the base, with high notes of stars. I can smell the brick of the house
front and the cedar shingles of the roof ledge over my head before I step out
into the moonlight.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 18.0pt; line-height: 107%;">From this
point there are two ways to go. Only as I am telling you this do I wonder which
I did most often. To the right off the patio was a pebbled walk that led to the
fence around our portion of the farmland our house was built on one corner of. To
the left was a creek and across the creek another fence and a pond. But if I veer
left after crossing the creek , I can follow a path first used by rabbits and
deer, made more distinctive by years of my own bare feet running along it. If I
follow that path along the creek, it puts me below my mother’s grooming shop in
a mess of small trees and bushes. Grape vines as big as my arm snake up around
a cluster of four or five trees creating a sturdy nest where I can climb up and sit nearly level with the back windows of
the shop. My mother and her assistants are unaware of my presence and I feel
quite covert and powerful braced in my wild nest, listening to their radio and
their conversations. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 18.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Tonight as I
lie here trying to settle my thoughts and my heart to get to sleep, I chose the
path to the right.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 18.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Even now, I can feel the rough surface of the concrete
slab my father built our house in the woods on. There is a big crack across one
side and I avoid it in the dark by memory, knowing the length of stride to miss
catching a toe in the crack and to hit the right stones in the path for the
smoothest steps. I can still smell the black charred rubbish in the burn barrel
as I pass. In one move I stick my right leg through the fence between rows of
barbed wire, tucking my back down as I squat and glide through, one foot on the
stone path, the other now on the soft crushed grass and weeds on the other side.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 18.0pt; line-height: 107%;">And there it
is. My tree. My Swiss Family Robinson’s Home-Away-From-Home. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 18.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Side note: I
am only now at sixty, coming back to the level of knowing and awareness I lived
in effortlessly as a child. Of course, as a child, I did not know how effortlessly
I moved through life, or that I just knew myself and my power. If I analyzed
it, I am sure I could pinpoint the era, or even perhaps the moment where I turned
a corner into darkness and lost sight of me. But what would be the point in
that? <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 18.0pt; line-height: 107%;">My darling
husband, when I am struggling to choose a path or project, always asks me the
same thing, “what will give you the most energy?” He is
right to put it so. It takes enormous energy to life a life that is out of sync
with your soul. Anything you expend energy on which does not reciprocate, robs
you of your youthful elasticity. It makes you old.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 18.0pt; line-height: 107%;">So, I am
older. Maybe I am tired to the bone some days from the weight of life. That is
only because on those days, I am not awake. I am unconscious, lost in thought. (An
interesting phrase when you consider it, ‘lost in thought.’ I mean, that is
precisely the condition most of us spend our entire life in, right? We have
stories we have made up about who we are, what rolls we play in life, and what
things mean. Those become a never-ending narrative that loops in our subconscious
uninterrupted unless we intentionally look for a way out!) In that state, I am
not choosing. And to be stuck in that loop is such an energy drain. For me it
has often been similar to the dream where you are stuck in quicksand trying to
run. I know what it is like to be young and free and energetic, so when my
thoughts are heavy, when the chemicals my body is creating in response to
stress make every move a chore, I know I am not awake. To correct this, I take
the necessary moments to escape to my waking dream. I go back to my tree.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 18.0pt; line-height: 107%;">My tree was
(it still pains me to use that verb) an enormous oak. It had limbs that nearly touched
the ground, though they began seven or eight feet up the trunk. I could barely
get my arms around the trunk and the limbs where bigger than my torso. Two of them
began a foot or so apart and swooped down parallel, one nearly to the ground,
the other creating the perfect guiderail so I could jump upon the one and walk
up to the trunk where they began, using the other to balance. From there I would
climb up one or two limbs higher, depending on which way I wanted to be facing.
I can still feel the bark on the palms of my hands, the souls of my feet and
the backs of my thighs or on my knees, rough and yet each segment flat and
smooth. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 18.0pt; line-height: 107%;">I went there
to get away from other people and so to be alone, but I was never alone there. Various
bugs, a squirrel or two, and any number of small birds would often eventually accept
or forget my presence as I settled into whatever I was there to do. Often, I would
bring a notebook and pencil to write poems and songs or small stories. Sometimes
I would simply sit and listen to the neighborhood. Other times I needed to sing.
I took snacks and drinks sometimes and spent hours there, coming down to wander
in the field, returning to rest. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 18.0pt; line-height: 107%;">The thing
about a tree, the thing I knew instinctually but never had to think about, was
that they live. They use and create energy. They are connected to all that is
via their very cells. They breathe and clean the air. They use and replace
nutrients to the soil, and they are home to creatures great and small. This one
was home to me and I felt a sense of kinship with all trees though my constant
contact with this one.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 18.0pt; line-height: 107%;">When I sat
for hours in my tree, I often came there with emotions I did not know what to
do with. Like every family, mine had some unhealthy dynamics none of us had the
capacity to deal with. We were trapped by the mind patterns we each had
running, playing off of one another. And so, though we loved each other deeply,
we caused one another pain and frustration. So, I ran to my tree, my safe
harbor.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 18.0pt; line-height: 107%;">My tree, I believe,
knew me, sensed my pain, and offered me healing.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 18.0pt; line-height: 107%;">I think of
that tree often. Years ago, on a trip home to visit my mother, my sister and I
drove around to see the places we frequented as children. She warned me that a
lot had changed, and though I was sad to see the condition of the house our
father had built, I was mortified to see the new owners of the farmland had cut
off the bottom limbs of my tree so they could plant the field closer to it. I wanted
to bolt from the car, run through the field and throw my arms around it’s trunk
in my sorrow. But at that time, I was too proper, too restrained to trust and
follow my instincts. Instead, I sat in the back seat of her Jeep with my nose
pressed to the window and cried. Today, when I think of it, I feel ashamed. That
tree had always been there for me, and there I was, so close, and I was too
tangled up in my lack of personal awareness to overcome the imagined awkwardness
of my true self. I believe the tree knew I was there.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 18.0pt; line-height: 107%;">There are
always important side notes to any story. Here is the perfect example.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 18.0pt; line-height: 107%;">That farm,
that field, that tree… they were never mine. They belonged to Eldon. Eldon was the
spirit of that tree. Indeed, of all the land for acres around it. Eldon, and
his wife and their home, where my mother’s safe haven, her ‘Swiss Family
Robinson’s Home-Away-From-Home Tree house’, when she was a young girl. I was
the one to inherit that blessing. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 18.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Eldon created
a life in that neck of the woods that brought health and happiness and healing
and hope to all who were brought there. He was quiet and strong and wise, like
that oak tree. He held us and challenged us to grow strong as well.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 18.0pt; line-height: 107%;">When I was a
young mother, after many a hardship, setback, and trial, I came home to visit. Eldon
had cancer and he was in the hospital, so I went to visit him there. I don’t know
why I felt so timid and afraid when I stepped into his room. Here was a man who
had loved me since I was born, taught me some of life’s most important lessons,
and fed me some of the best food for my whole childhood, and I was afraid to go
to him when he was suffering. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 18.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Perhaps that
is what I was afraid of, suffering.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 18.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Suffering is
negative energy. When it is yours, it surrounds and traps you in. When it is
other’s, it reaches out it’s ugly arms to pull you in. It takes a strong man
and makes him appear weak.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 18.0pt; line-height: 107%;">There are at
least a handful of things I regret, that I would not hesitate to go back and
undo or re-do if I could.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 18.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Most prominent
in my heart these days, I would take an interest in my little sister and give
her the love and affection she needed. I would include her in my life more and
let her come with me to my tree. I would worry less about what other people
thought I should do or believe and more about what my daughter’s needed from me
personally. And I would go into Eldon’s room there at the hospital, get down on
my knees before him where he sat in his chair under the cold window, and thank him.
I would brush his soft silver hair back from his eyes, clean his glasses, hold
his soft, cool wrinkly hands, and tell him how much he meant to my life. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 18.0pt; line-height: 107%;">I can only
hope there will be trees in my future with which I can build relationships. I
have moved around a lot and often had to live in lifeless places without the luxury
of my own trees. I did manage to get back to the country years ago though, and
we still have a handful of trees in our little yard, but the two big elms had
already been butchered before I arrived. I pat them when I pass and thank them for
their sturdy presence and apologize for the treatment they have endured.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 18.0pt; line-height: 107%;">There will
be no other Eldon for me. But I have been intentionally, persistently,
developing myself into the sort of person who can be to someone like I was as a
girl, what he was to me. I look to build the sort of relationships that heal and
offer stability and hope. More and more I am able to remain awake, aware,
intentional. And that gives me energy.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 18.0pt; line-height: 107%;">I got that
from Eldon and his tree.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 18.0pt; line-height: 107%;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 18.0pt; line-height: 107%;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 18.0pt; line-height: 107%;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 18.0pt; line-height: 107%;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 18.0pt; line-height: 107%;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 18.0pt; line-height: 107%;"> </span></p>Robin L Naegerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06948891883091987585noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8390469520215138625.post-18212043611788466162020-01-22T10:19:00.012-08:002021-12-03T09:10:06.574-08:00Grabbing the golden ring...or, A Return to Brighter Things...<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<br /></div>
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<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-right: 153pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "lobster" , cursive; font-size: 14pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;">On a cloudy Wednesday...</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-right: 153pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "lobster" , cursive; font-size: 14pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;">I am meditating. Or rather, trying to… my mind is bombarded with thoughts</span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "lobster" , cursive; font-size: 14pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;">and ideas, and the worries and frustrations I woke up beneath. They feel </span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "lobster" , cursive; font-size: 14pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;">rather like the hangover from a dream you don’t quite remember, but bits </span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "lobster" , cursive; font-size: 14pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;">of which haunt and tease and linger until you are awake enough to realize, </span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "lobster" , cursive; font-size: 14pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;">it was just a dream.</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-right: 153pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "lobster" , cursive; font-size: 14pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;">I have been trying to choose a path. For my life, for the day. Just some </span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "lobster" , cursive; font-size: 14pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;">direction which feels like there is a good chance of ending up in </span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "lobster" , cursive; font-size: 14pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;">a winning place. But these thoughts, and ideas and plans and schemes.. </span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "lobster" , cursive; font-size: 14pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;">none of them stay or stick, so I feel like I am </span><span style="font-family: "lobster" , cursive; font-size: 14pt; white-space: pre;">riding in the boat </span><span style="color: black; font-family: "lobster" , cursive; font-size: 14pt; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">with </span></span><br />
<span style="color: black; font-family: "lobster" , cursive; font-size: 14pt; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">Willy Wonka through that disorienting</span> tunnel </span><span style="font-family: "lobster" , cursive; font-size: 14pt; white-space: pre;">. I am desperate for </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "lobster" , cursive; font-size: 14pt; white-space: pre;">somewhere to focus my attention and energy and hope. I am desperate for </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "lobster" , cursive; font-size: 14pt; white-space: pre;">hope.</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-right: 153pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "lobster" , cursive; font-size: 14pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;">I rode on a merry-go-round in the San Diego zoo back in the early ’80s, </span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "lobster" , cursive; font-size: 14pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;">and as you went around, there was a golden ring you could try to snag. </span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh84tfnDDfcEYeGyFH6fuUmkWCEGH5fqFxd8r8R46MRJUu1rRwCTV1irQZ65-LCqMAAXMrebxIXRfP4Zx1OLofoLvkNsvKz8UhdENBS7JQlaWu7trbVwMP7nDHSpUeykJsWzO1j1e-l_CY/s1600/Me+on+MGR+1980.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1149" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh84tfnDDfcEYeGyFH6fuUmkWCEGH5fqFxd8r8R46MRJUu1rRwCTV1irQZ65-LCqMAAXMrebxIXRfP4Zx1OLofoLvkNsvKz8UhdENBS7JQlaWu7trbVwMP7nDHSpUeykJsWzO1j1e-l_CY/s320/Me+on+MGR+1980.jpg" width="229" /></a> <span style="font-family: "lobster" , cursive; font-size: 14pt; white-space: pre-wrap;">I was young then,and strong and had not been damaged nearly as much as I have by now. It was a fun game, an adventure, and of course, I won. I mean, you don’t get to keep the ring. It’s only gold in color anyway.</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-right: 153pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "lobster" , cursive; font-size: 14pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;">But today, I am staggering under the effects of so many hits and losses </span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "lobster" , cursive; font-size: 14pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;">and a supreme underlying sense of loss and failure. I feel too old to </span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "lobster" , cursive; font-size: 14pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;">reinvent myself, too tired, and in a constant state of random chronic pain. </span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "lobster" , cursive; font-size: 14pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;">I feel an anxiousness over the state of my mind.</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-right: 153pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "lobster" , cursive; font-size: 14pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;">I am an easy target for discouragement.</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-right: 153pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "lobster" , cursive; font-size: 14pt; white-space: pre-wrap;">And there is this woman… this hissing snake...</span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-right: 153pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "lobster" , cursive; font-size: 14pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;">She stood beside my bed all night and whispered in my ear</span></div>
</div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "lobster" , cursive; font-size: 14pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;">“You’ll never do the things you dream,</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "lobster" , cursive; font-size: 14pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;">And besides, your end is near.”</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "lobster" , cursive; font-size: 14pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;">She smiles down as I toss and turn and</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: lobster, cursive;"><span style="font-size: 18.6667px; white-space: pre;">Just as morning breaks</span></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "lobster" , cursive; font-size: 14pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;">A sense of dread lies over me</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "lobster" , cursive; font-size: 14pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;">I’m palsied in its wake</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "lobster" , cursive; font-size: 14pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;">With nothing in my mind to grasp</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "lobster" , cursive; font-size: 14pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;">No hope on which to cling</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "lobster" , cursive; font-size: 14pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;">Poisoned by the devil’s asp</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "lobster" , cursive; font-size: 14pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;">I have no song to sing.</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "lobster" , cursive; font-size: 14pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;">I drag myself throughout the day </span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "lobster" , cursive; font-size: 14pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;">The moments lost to dreaming</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "lobster" , cursive; font-size: 14pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;">To wondering how life got away</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "lobster" , cursive; font-size: 14pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;">Outside the sun’s still beaming.</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "lobster" , cursive; font-size: 14pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;">But in my heart a darkness</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "lobster" , cursive; font-size: 14pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;">I seem powerless to resist</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "lobster" , cursive; font-size: 14pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;">Cloaks me in despair until</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "lobster" , cursive; font-size: 14pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;">I just wish life would quit</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "lobster" , cursive; font-size: 14pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;">When suddenly I notice</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "lobster" , cursive; font-size: 14pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;">A small and flickering light</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "lobster" , cursive; font-size: 14pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;">I crawl my way to where it sits</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "lobster" , cursive; font-size: 14pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;">And try to fan it bright</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "lobster" , cursive; font-size: 14pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;">And I remember, for a moment</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "lobster" , cursive; font-size: 14pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;">That girl who used to dream</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "lobster" , cursive; font-size: 14pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;">Who used to hope, </span><span style="font-family: "lobster" , cursive; font-size: 14pt; white-space: pre;">Used to believe</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "lobster" , cursive; font-size: 14pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;">She was made for better things</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "lobster" , cursive; font-size: 14pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;">And as I catch her eye, I find</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "lobster" , cursive; font-size: 14pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;">A surge of power there</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "lobster" , cursive; font-size: 14pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;">And I breathe in deep to pull it in</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "lobster" , cursive; font-size: 14pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;">That drought of pure, fresh air</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "lobster" , cursive; font-size: 14pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;">And it sobers me and sets me straight</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "lobster" , cursive; font-size: 14pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;">It renews my spirit and fire</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "lobster" , cursive; font-size: 14pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;">It causes me to contemplate</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "lobster" , cursive; font-size: 14pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;">The nature of hope and desire</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "lobster" , cursive; font-size: 14pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;">And I laugh with her, this younger me</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "lobster" , cursive; font-size: 14pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;">At the futility of doubt</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "lobster" , cursive; font-size: 14pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;">For she lives as hope inside of me</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "lobster" , cursive; font-size: 14pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;">That I may live without.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "lobster" , cursive; font-size: 14pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;"><br /></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-right: 144pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "lobster" , cursive; font-size: 14pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;">Now, I shall meditate, free. Free to breathe, and know that I am choosing. </span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "lobster" , cursive; font-size: 14pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;">I am choosing the woman I am. I am choosing the thoughts to let run </span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "lobster" , cursive; font-size: 14pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;">through my mind. </span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-right: 144pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "lobster" , cursive; font-size: 14pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;">I choose that bright beautiful girl full of hope, innocent to the evils </span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "lobster" , cursive; font-size: 14pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;">of the world. I choose to let them be there, if they must, but not </span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "lobster" , cursive; font-size: 14pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;">to let them touch my heart. I need it to live.</span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWGlbPCejdlaRCvhy-1b6VCN2Z79fhfXrVegsgJQDoOd8kEXMQoE6aXSa5yL5XIbmY2EwMgRiM8e9Y0vhlwTSMcrXZR06KsNyUBSJwii665I4hTddin1Q_aOtbsWphyMWNPLZ1GBvm8s4/s1600/IMG-2600.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWGlbPCejdlaRCvhy-1b6VCN2Z79fhfXrVegsgJQDoOd8kEXMQoE6aXSa5yL5XIbmY2EwMgRiM8e9Y0vhlwTSMcrXZR06KsNyUBSJwii665I4hTddin1Q_aOtbsWphyMWNPLZ1GBvm8s4/s320/IMG-2600.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-right: 144pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "lobster" , cursive; font-size: 14pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;">If I were to go to that old zoo and ride that merry-go-round again, well, </span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "lobster" , cursive; font-size: 14pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;">I wouldn’t. I mean, life is a river with eddies and whirlpools that can take </span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "lobster" , cursive; font-size: 14pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;">you down, or at the very least have you spinning in one spot and disorienting </span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "lobster" , cursive; font-size: 14pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;">you to where the shore is. That is excitement enough, challenge enough. </span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "lobster" , cursive; font-size: 14pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;">I am not a fan of randomly engaging in a game of riding a stationary object</span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "lobster" , cursive; font-size: 14pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;">in a tight circle where there is likely no prize but dizziness. But, it occurs </span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "lobster" , cursive; font-size: 14pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;">to me if I did, and I wanted that golden ring, it might be more direct to just</span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "lobster" , cursive; font-size: 14pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;">dismount and walk directly to it. I know, there are rules. That is cheating. </span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "lobster" , cursive; font-size: 14pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;">Or is it?</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-right: 144pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "lobster" , cursive; font-size: 14pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;">With that thought, I choose to step outside the tight circle, the whirling </span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "lobster" , cursive; font-size: 14pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;">vortex of my thoughts and feelings. I choose to employ today’s fresh spark </span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "lobster" , cursive; font-size: 14pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;">of hope and let it energize me, so I can shake their tired old filth off, pick </span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "lobster" , cursive; font-size: 14pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;">one golden ring and just head directly for it. Today, I will cheat that asp. </span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "lobster" , cursive; font-size: 14pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;">She is a liar anyway. I </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "lobster" , cursive; font-size: 14pt; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;">will</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "lobster" , cursive; font-size: 14pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;"> do the things I dream.</span></div>
<span id="docs-internal-guid-8f38c7d4-7fff-e99d-41fb-8c3e8f9beee1"></span><br />
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-right: 144pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "lobster" , cursive; font-size: 14pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;">If I can do this today, and tomorrow, and so on, I should have a pretty nice </span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "lobster" , cursive; font-size: 14pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;">stack of golden rings one day! They are symbolic in nature, but I think I will</span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "lobster" , cursive; font-size: 14pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;">be able to trade them up for something really amazing!</span></div>
</div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span face=""helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif" style="font-size: x-small;">(The middle pic is of me in 1978... I am wearing a shared jumper from the store that was called Merry-Go-Round!) Hey, Nan!</span></span></div>
Robin L Naegerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06948891883091987585noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8390469520215138625.post-20697314547202162852020-01-14T06:58:00.003-08:002020-01-14T06:58:55.882-08:00Wanna be on my team, buddy?<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Where shall we go from here?</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">I would like to have you over for coffee, ask about your plans for life and how you see things going for you.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">We could think aloud together and dream up amazing plans and schemes for what you will do with all of your unique gifts and talents.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">I really get off on the give and take, the exchange of thoughts and ideas and the opportunity to encourage and equip! If we were having coffee (or tea, God knows I like a good cup of tea!) we could hear each o</span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">thers hearts on the matters at hand. We could hear the fears and hesitations and doubts that snag us, slowing us down </span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">as we run by</span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">, making us reconsider the paths we've chosen. And since we are together, we would laugh at how they almost got us. Almost... Because when we team up, when we've got each other's backs, we can share the weapons in our arsenals. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">I could show you the little foxes eating your grapes, and then you would know how to reap the harvest you work so hard for. You could use your brilliance to shine a light on the darkness creeping in on my thoughts when the nothing is trying to keep me from running and climbing to reach that high place.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Well, maybe... if you are near me and it seems fitting to do so, we could do just that, for real, with real coffee...</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">But I am at my desk, alone with my mess and my hopes and my stack of ideas to choose from and a brain filled with chaos. And you... well, where are you?</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">Can we make this work? I am offering the few things I know for sure, the many things I have picked up that make sense to me so far, and a huge heart full of hope for us all. I hope we can meet up now and then to lift each other and point out the amazing sights along the way that make us see the possibilities, when so often the world only offers up trouble and discouragement. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">I need you in this. Show me what you've got. I bet its good stuff, and I could sure use it right now!</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS, sans-serif;">As Rich says, "Peace, Love, and Parsley"</span>Robin L Naegerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06948891883091987585noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8390469520215138625.post-59155905091394799172019-06-29T08:58:00.000-07:002019-06-29T08:58:01.645-07:00As a man thinketh...<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">What is your narrative? (Who wrote your cue cards?)</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">We all have a story we tell ourselves, about us, about the world, about others... There are key words or phrases, and snapshots of moments where we 'decided' who we are, and what is true about us. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;">Often, w</span><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">ithout realizing it, we live our daily lives out of this narrative. We put on the costume, and the makeup and we go about our days as the person we believe we are, and we respond to the external cues from a pre-set script.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">That is great! If it is a good story... If what we tell ourselves about ourselves is productive, generous, honest.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">But, so often, because of events in our past, and who we were at the time they occurred, our narrative is a negative story, where our character is a victim. So, we might perceive an external cue as a slight or an attack, and respond to it from a defensive or yielding stance, without ever actually having surveyed the scene.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Here is what I am finding out, as I look into why I am so often frustrated with where I am in life.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">When things don't go according to my plans, the voice in my head says something like, "oh, yeah, here we go again... nothing ever works our for poor little Robin. Why should she expect to get to..., something always comes along to rob her of ..."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">You see? </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">And out of that train of thought comes the natural follow-through of, "Why get your hopes up? Its too exhausting, this roller-coaster of Hope-Disappointment, Hope-Disappointment. Why not just coast out in ease? Why dream of great things? You know what will happen. You will work and try and plan, and then all of life will turn and put you back on your ass again. Why bother...?"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">You can see how having <i>this</i> guy holding the microphone in a dark corner of your stage, a murky little spot light casting an eerie glow on his pale, bloated face would be disconcerting. You can see why,if you knew he was there, directing you around the stage, you would have an ambient sense of dread, waking up each day to do it all again. (need to look into why <i>my</i> narrator is a he...)</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">That is the martyr/victim character I have often played by default. But there are so many forms we are practiced at playing. Maybe in the narrative we believe, we are the hero, but in real life we live less than heroic. Not consciously choosing our responses to external stimuli, can effectively make us</span><span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;"> dishonest with ourselves about how effective we are at our lives, our relationships, our jobs.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">I, for instance, on any given day might wake up and 'decide' to embody the character of the martyr, the hero, the victim, the fun girl, the sex pot, the inventor, the best selling author, the champion of downtrodden, super mom or grandma or both... I lead a busy life!</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;">Because this is generally a back story, we are seldom aware of how this default monologue effects our thoughts and actions. How, if we were conscious of it, we might choose a new voice to let guide our thoughts.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;">And that is what I am working on changing in my life just now.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">I look back and I can see, that in my attempt, for instance, to get fit and loose weight, I was simultaneously sabotaging myself with my narrative.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">My self-talk was counter productive, because, after so many 'failures', I had begun to believe it was a loosing battle I could never win. What sane person would enter such a battle?! But I am stubborn, so I would start again. I would set my goal (though leave it a little loose so no one (me) could really say if I won or lost.) I would create my plan (though vague enough I had mostly wiggle room.) And then for a good few days I would talk big about it (mostly to myself)and make attempts at exercise, ("That is going to give me a heart attack. My knees can't take that. Two days in a row is fine. Weekends don't count. I'm too broken to treat myself this hard anymore. No-one expects a grandma to be a sporty model.")</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">And sometimes, because people in life besides you let you down, they are easy scapegoats for your personal shortcomings. "Well, if he spent as much time helping me get fit as he does on his own fitness... Well if they didn't bring food into the house they know I am trying not to eat... Well, if it wasn't so far to the gym... Well, if I had my own pool..."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">The problem here, is that when you look at the most amazing people in the world, doing the most amazing things, being the change they want to see in the world, being the most amazing version of themselves, etc... they usually are doing it against all odds!</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Yeah, let that sink in. They usually had the deck stacked against them and won anyway. They came from less than functional families or less than ideal circumstances, and so on.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">So, maybe they give themselves the winning edge, by purposefully choosing their narrative? Maybe <i>they </i>write their own cue cards?</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">More and more,I think I am on to something. Something that could change my 'luck' and help me see results in my life, where once there were only disappointments.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">As I listen to the podcasts by outstanding folks like Rachel Hollis, Rich Roll, David Goggins, Emily Fletcher, and others, I am picking up on key phrases that dispel the false narratives, that shed light into the dark corners of my thinking, that clarify and validate my true beliefs. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">I am compiling a list, making new cue cards and programming my mind to win, by being pro-active and prepared. Proverbs 23:7 "As a man thinketh in his heart, so is he." The task ahead is to align what I think/know in my heart about myself, and what my mind tells me.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">In a future blog, I will share my list for your use...</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">So, for today, I will leave you with this quote, which I have had on my desk for a while and should have put who said it on the card, but I think Scott told it to me from a book he read...</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;"><i>"This is WAR. Maintain the initiative." </i></span>Robin L Naegerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06948891883091987585noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8390469520215138625.post-43474182525505792132019-06-25T09:35:00.000-07:002019-06-25T09:35:19.049-07:00Missouri here I come...What's in an address?<br />
We are moving again...<br />
That statement is so packed with positive and negative emotions.<br />
I love my house in Missouri.<br />
I miss my middle daughter and her family a lot!<br />
I miss my mom, and even more so, my sister.<br />
I miss our solid, longstanding friendships that are so comfortable and familiar, yet still so fresh and alive and engaging.<br />
But that's pretty much it.<br />
When we moved to Texas last year, it was like an adventure, an energizing new shot at life as a couple. The only thing I don't love about Texas, is in the 4th-7th lines above.<br />
Plano is expensive, but I feel so at home here and I have made some wonderful new friends.<br />
One of them has since moved to Colorado.<br />
What's in an address?<br />
I live best wherever my love is. And he is going to Missouri.<br />
I am a gypsy, a vagabond at heart. I adore travel! I love to make new connections and connect old friends with new.<br />
So, wherever I lay my head, if we were ever friends, we still are. If I can visit, I sure will! But out of sight, is not exactly out of mind. I still think of and pray for people I have not seen in years.<br />
New adventures and old friends await, and new friends... see ya on the flip side! This kitchen, I miss!!<br />
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Robin L Naegerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06948891883091987585noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8390469520215138625.post-88720336427985013972019-03-15T08:03:00.002-07:002019-03-15T08:40:40.850-07:00Catching cast pods...2019... forty years since I graduated from Smith-Cotton High School.<br />
I try not to lean on markers for support to do great and courageous things. But I am not going to lie... there is a teenage girl inside of me who longs to be truly known and if not loved, at least appreciated by those who hardly even noticed me then! I am currently harnessing that desire to create growth and change for myself in a rather tough time of life. One tool I have found very helpful, is podcasts. There are some tremendously brilliant people out there with a pure love of others, who give themselves daily to the task of weaponizing the masses to overcome evil and become the best version of themselves! My middle daughter spent the best part of a hard couple of years with headphones on and I thought she was mostly just avoiding me. (Because everything is about me, if you were not aware...) What she was really doing was gathering. She found great voices to talk to her and comfort and educate and entertain her when things in her life were exhausting and she was to weary to engage. She was getting the perspective of people who were out of our physical range of companions, because they took the time to put down in audio sessions, the best ideas they were working with.<br />
Now here is the thing that will make you pity me and laugh...<br />
While I was jealous of the connections she had away from us and the new and exciting thoughts and ideas she was learning, and while I was longing to do the very thing she was doing, I did not. I had actually convinced myself that somehow, I couldn't do it! Oh, the excuses! "I don't carry my phone all the time." "I don't always have pockets on what I wear." "Headphones hurt my tiny ears." (that is actually true, but earbuds are not the only way! See how self-crippling?!)<br />
Now, finally, because my hubby is listening to podcasts to and from work every day and he is engaging me in dialog about all the cool ideas and I finally feel like it is okay to have dreams again, I am in!<br />
Be ware... a lot of the coming blogs will be spawned out of the exciting stuff I am hearing and how it relates to my own life and love and longings and winning the struggle. I hope you will not only read and enjoy what I write to you, but let it spark wildfires in your own life.<br />
Oh, so I have thirty-one weeks to recreate or at least clear the clutter and refresh, before my 40th class reunion. Stronger than single birthdays, anniversaries, New Years, or approaching swimsuit seasons, I believe I have something to tether my flag to in a strong wind in this event! When a nice looking piece of pie sits next to the teapot on RCIA nights, I can look at it and know it is not part of my plan. When I sit at my desk with my back to my Peleton, the vibe it is sending my way in its silent presence becomes, not the accuser I thought it was, but the friend who says, "Hey Buddy! Lets take a spin, 'kay?!"<br />
If you need the sort of friendship and encouragement and accountability that I have in my house, reach out to those near you, who love you and want the best for you.<br />
Or start by listening to Rich Roll podcasts. The February 26 with Tom Bilyeu is good, or the February 5th with Marco Borges' Greenprint, or the Feb 12 with Todd Herman if you are an aspiring artist (adult content caution). But be sure not to miss the January 8 with Zach Bush, if you have any health problems that have you stuck in a pharmaceutical quicksand.<br />
Peace, Love, Pineapples...xoRobin L Naegerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06948891883091987585noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8390469520215138625.post-29276987681430945622019-02-21T11:33:00.001-08:002019-02-21T11:33:37.548-08:00<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">What an Elephant Forgets by not Forgetting: An
Encouragement to Remember You are Free<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">They say an elephant never forgets…<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">The way I heard it, it is just the one thing he
remembers that has caused this to be an oft used phrase. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">When an elephant is small, a chain is put around one
back foot, and attached to a peg in the ground. The little elephant is thus
trained to remain where it is pegged, even after it becomes a huge creature who
could easily pull the peg from the ground.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">I thought about that the other day. About how we are
tricked, or we trick ourselves, into feeling powerless to move from the tiny
spot we are pegged to.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">It could be in a feeling we had when we once
believed we could pull away and find new adventures, only to be snapped back
into place at the end of our proverbial chain by fear, or failure, or others
saying we could not go. Maybe we tested that restraint in other areas or in the
same area, reaching for a dream or a vision we had. Or maybe we never knew our
power and potential and left it go at one try.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Over time, something gets in our heads. A voice that
says something to the effect of, “you know you can’t, why try?” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Now, an elephant calf, when captured or born into
captivity, has not had the time to build memories of being a wild and free
being. He doesn’t know how big and strong he will become. He doesn’t know that
there is a whole herd of other elephants who remember him and miss him and
could give him the support and protection and encouragement he needs. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">In his little circle of grass around the peg, he
feels alone. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As he grows, he begins to
accept that the trainer and keeper are his pack, that the work they give him to
do is his lot in life. He forgets his dreams and hopes of the wild, of the
family he longs for.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">And so, while a bull elephant who grew up at the end
of the chain never forgets that his freedom is limited, what he does forget is
how amazingly strong he is. He forgets how gifted he is and how unique among
other elephants. He becomes dull and uninterested in life, because his kind have
greater emotional depth and wisdom than many humans, and like humans, needs
others to feel fulfilled and happy. And so he spends his days doing the few
mundane tasks he is compelled to do, and then just sways with the breeze,
dragging his wondrous trunk in the dust, lost in thought or not thinking, Feeling
sad or not feeling.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">When I thought about this the other day, I had a
sudden burst of laughter at myself. And a sense of relief and renewed hope. How
easily pegged I can be, when I have been given so much with which to obtain and
maintain my freedom!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">You see, no one has chained me to a peg, but me. Without
really realizing it, I had made the choice to let myself be limited by my circumstances.
Truth be told, I used them as an excuse to stop pulling at the peg and brake
the chain, out of laziness and self-pity. I have been in a season of giving up.
My self-talk had become seriously pathetic, and like the Good Father He is, the
Lord gave me a gentle slap to bring me to.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">That is the inspiration to share my thoughts about
what an elephant forgets, that it may give you a slap and a giggle and the lift
and force to break a chain or two of your own.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Because, maybe you are not where you want to be. Maybe, like me, you had
hopes and dreams of certain outcomes, and they have slipped out of your grasp. Or
maybe, like me, you find yourself sort of floundering in a whirlpool without
the energy or direction to pull out and swim upstream.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Whatever the case may be, I encourage you,
remember.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Find a quiet place to spend a few minutes or a few
hours alone, recollecting. I like that word, recollecting. It brings up a
picture of treasure strewn about, some hiding under things and nearly lost, and
me gathering them all back together, collecting them, again. Now with them all
before me, I can consider their worth. Maybe I have held on to some that no
longer have value to me. Or maybe they never had and now I am in a place to
recognize that. And then, among the bits and bobs I may find forgotten treasure
of great worth! Maybe I have never seen it in this light before, or maybe it is
a thing I have held onto for that <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">some
day</i> when I could finally take it out and put it to good use.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Maybe today is that day. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Do you have a talent or a special gift that you don’t
use? (Notice I did not say that you don’t, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">get</i>
to use. I find myself whining at times that I don’t <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">get</i> to write, when the truth is, I just don’t write.) Whatever it
is that the Lord has given you to use, use it. If it is love, then love. If it
is song, then sing. If you are a gifted hostess, have a party! (Social media
has made us less social. We need to actually get together!) Maybe you have the
gift of compassion. In nursing homes and hospitals all around you, there are
hurting and lonely people longing for someone to just sit with them and listen.
A plate of warm cookies can go a long way to comfort a grieving friend or
neighbor.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">I know, there are real limits to our freedom. We only
have so much time, or so much money. We have obligations, etc., but these are
some of the things to really consider. Can/should some of them be cast off? Who
or what is compelling obedience to a certain task, or denying us a certain
liberty? Sometimes we chain ourselves to a small spot to feel safe. Sometimes we
cripple those we serve when we do not recognize they no longer require the
level of devotion we have given. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I am not
suggesting we don’t care for our families or pay our bills, but even in those
areas we could possibly be more creative how we do them, in order to buy the
time to learn a new skill or use a gift we would enjoy giving. I like what
Scott Adams says in his book, “How to Fail at Almost Everything and Still Win
Big”… which is an amazing by the way… that (and I am paraphrasing a whole chapter)
we are obligated to take care of ourselves first, so that we are fit to care
for others. We are more delightful to be around, when we are satisfied with how
we are spending our lives. So like Scott says, there is a sort of selfishness
that is appropriate to being a generous person as a whole.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Conversely, there is a certain amount of guilt of
sin that comes along with not being a good steward of the gifts that we were
given. This creates an ambient level of unhealthy stress in our lives, which in
turn can make us crabby or sad and depressed or even angry. There is no pill
for this but action. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">I don’t know specifically what anyone but me has to
act on to forget the limiting chain and remember what a wide, wild, world there
is to explore and relish each day.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>What I
do know is this. Every single one of us has at least one thing to give that no
one else can give in exactly the same fashion. And not a single one of us can
find true fulfillment if we do not invest those gifts in those around us. If you
will look, you will find that the dreams and longings we have correlate with
the talents and gifts we have. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">As for me, I have to create. I have to obey the
force inside of me that is always dropping pictures and ideas and poems and
songs in my heart. I never stop thinking of how to help and heal and tickle and
move and provoke with words and song and food and pictures and engaging in
stimulating conversation about everything and nothing! Not acting on those
things is maddening! <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">I look now at my chain, my peg in the ground, and I see
it for what it is, a hoax. With one deep breath and a little focused
determination I can yank that sucker out of the ground and take off at a steady
pace toward the life I know I need. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">It’s not Monday, or New Year’s Day, or my birthday,
or any other marker I would usually need to convince myself it’s a good day to
start anew. It’s just an average raining Thursday.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">It’s a great day to do something wild and satisfying,
and beat a new path to freedom.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Bookman Old Style",serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Find your herd and live wild! xo<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />Robin L Naegerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06948891883091987585noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8390469520215138625.post-12703957947824508302018-11-30T19:37:00.000-08:002018-11-30T19:37:15.155-08:00<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 18.6667px;">well, i did it! 50,222 words in November!</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 18.6667px;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 18.6667px;">Here are a few of my favorite... </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 18.6667px;">in case I hadn't mentioned, the story I chose to tell this year is Scott's and my love story. how we got from start to where we are now. just prior to the following exerpt I have brought in and decorated that tree with several of the wonderful people we have been blessed to share parts of our lives with... here goes-----</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 18.6667px;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Again, you
may ask, how does any of this have anything to do with the promised love story
of Scott and Robin? <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Here is what
I believe about that. Everything. Life is about how we connect with other
lives. If we are fortunate enough to have many people touch our lives, we are
the most fortunate, as they all come and go and pass by trailing laughter and
tears for us to share, that there be one person who remains. One person in whom
you feel you are home. Wholly loved, cherished, forgiven over and over and
adored. One person who encourages you to be your best. One person whose spirit
and soul and body fit yours and serves to recharge you when the world takes
more than its share. One person whose laughter fills your need for the far off
sounds of your heavenly home. One person whose tears draw from you the memory
of your own pains and sorrows and longings, and binds you together that you
might not be lost and alone on your journey home.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">But all
these other people? They are reflections and songs and energy and light along
the way. They bring the pain that moves you toward or away from a path. They
are the joy that beckons when you are lost in a dream and forgetting to trudge
on. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">I am not a
huge sports fan, in the sense that I often have little to no idea what is
happening, or what rules are in play. But I love to be at a game of any sort. I
love to watch the people, to feel the shared excitement and expectation and
hope. But my favorite? The Wave at a Cardinals game! You’ve seen it. At some
moment chosen by a felt need, a handful of people rise from their seats and
lift and lower their arms in a flowing motion like the raising and dropping of
an elephant’s trunk. Someone nearby spots it and joins in, and before it has
moved half way around the stadium, nearly everyone becomes part of this fluid
wave of bodies, speaking silently to the team on the field, “we are with you.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">If you could
watch from above as in a time lapsed shot of the blooming and dying of a single
flower, I imagine that is what we look like to God. Or, like the lichen growing
on a rock or coral under the sea. A symbiotic life connected one to another by
moments and “coincidence and accidents.” </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">We come in on the scene and we find
and loose and find one another, grasping and shoving away, swaying together as if one with the wave that moves us.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">In this
scenario, Scott would be the rock I cling to. No, that is Jesus. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;">But Scott’s
heart and mine are so connected, that when one of us dies, the other will likely soon follow. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
Robin L Naegerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06948891883091987585noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8390469520215138625.post-61019515965033516032018-11-30T07:55:00.002-08:002018-11-30T07:55:19.654-08:00<img alt="Thumb" src="https://d3bjkcszbfqz72.cloudfront.net/covers/1453142/thumb.jpg?1539901336" /><br />
This month is National Novel Writing Month, and this year I have chosen to write about the love story that is mine and Scott's. When you read it, and I hope you will, you will find, not just a bunch of mush, but the saga of a couple who have been through some shit and are closer than ever.<br />
My working title has been, Return to Love, for reasons you will understand when you have finished the book. But it just occurred to me a fun name might be, It Starts with Cake. (See photo!) I may use that to do a fiction piece about the same story, for those who can't enjoy a historical account of some amazing lives. But that's not you.<br />
So, see the blog I will post later in the day with some chosen clips from my finished rough draft. But for now, I must get cracking! 8000 words left to complete my challenge and get my badges! Go Me!Robin L Naegerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06948891883091987585noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8390469520215138625.post-37583366715362677142016-05-03T21:13:00.000-07:002016-05-03T21:13:28.167-07:00
<br />
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">The girl that I have left behind to be the gal I’m now</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Has given up the pony and the Cessna and the plow </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Has tried to be the one you want </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Has willed her to conform</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">To what the world expects of her</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">To something close to norm</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Still inside desire rages </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">To burn with passioned fire</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">To fuel and feed the inner need, to swim in mad desire</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">The girl of dreams and passions, now a woman quite subdued</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">But such intensive energy to this pull off, is used</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">And so she must imbibe to find or rather somehow loose</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">The fierce and fighting woman who is strangled by the noose</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"> Of modern thought and
civil tongue and proper frame of mind</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">And so the gal her holy girl, has had to leave behind</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">But set upon me, stoke the flame, and brother you will see,</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">The holy fire an ember still </span></div>
<span style="font-family: "Calibri",sans-serif; font-size: 11.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">Alive inside of me</span><b></b><i></i><u></u><sub></sub><sup></sup><strike></strike>Robin L Naegerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06948891883091987585noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8390469520215138625.post-23505372003879781642016-05-03T21:08:00.003-07:002016-05-03T21:08:32.042-07:00
<br />
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">There is always a poem adrift in my soul</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">A word or a phrase, just a part, not the whole</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Alert, waiting feelings, impressions or clues</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">What I am to me or what you am to you.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">I think in parade songs, in lyric and rhyme</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">But I try to translate to</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Fit in with the time.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"> I try not to singsong</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">My thoughts, words, or feelings</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">For the sensible man is left </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"> His head reeling,</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">When quite unexpected I break into song</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Where lyrics and movie lines don’t quite belong</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">In pleasant conversation</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">They sound quite absurd</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">My disguise is lost, I’m revealed as a nerd</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Of greatest proportions and amply supply</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">When iambic pentameter soars to the sky.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Oh why bother? I wonder, the struggle is real,</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">In a world of keep cool, when I feel how I feel!</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">That the world is a wonder and I wonder why</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Everyone is not smitten to rhyme and sing, oh fly!</span></div>
<b></b><i></i><u></u><sub></sub><sup></sup><strike></strike>Robin L Naegerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06948891883091987585noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8390469520215138625.post-69428400734187394152015-12-02T07:47:00.002-08:002015-12-02T07:47:44.289-08:00Priority Two And FourWill the floors, once swept, stay spotless?<br />
Will small hands let neat things be?<br />
No, but small eyes filled with wonder<br />
Are the best through which to see!<br />
Will these tired bones so weary<br />
Ever get their fill of rest?<br />
No, but playing on the floor with<br />
Two and Four, is quite the best!<br />
In the ever shrinking hours<br />
Between awake and half asleep<br />
Will the dishes once stay done?<br />
No, but dishes, they will keep.<br />
For I'm watching Two and Four<br />
And they're escaping childhood's bliss.<br />
So before I give a care for clean<br />
I'll give them each a kiss!<br />
<br />Robin L Naegerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06948891883091987585noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8390469520215138625.post-81177316347483609792015-06-26T13:59:00.001-07:002015-06-26T13:59:24.533-07:00Returning I Find<div align="right">
<u><span style="font-family: Georgia;">Was This March?</span></u></div>
<div align="right">
<span style="font-family: Georgia;">This blank page looks familiar!</span></div>
<div align="right">
<span style="font-family: Georgia;">I must have thought of SOMETHING!</span></div>
<div align="right">
<span style="font-family: Georgia;">But, as often is the case, apparently, something else happened!</span></div>
<div align="right">
<span style="font-family: Georgia;">Actually, a lot of something else's........</span></div>
<div align="right">
<span style="font-family: Georgia;">Some worth mentioning.......</span></div>
<div align="right">
<span style="font-family: Georgia;">A lot of bubble blowing, pool splashing, garden working, movie watching, wine drinking...</span></div>
<div align="right">
<span style="font-family: Georgia;">Some, well, lets let them pass without note for now....</span></div>
<div align="right">
<span style="font-family: Georgia;">But hey! July is coming, and it is Hot!! </span></div>
<div align="right">
<span style="font-family: Georgia;">So! More bubbles and pool splashing, and wine!</span></div>
<div align="right">
<span style="font-family: Georgia;">Peace Out!</span></div>
Robin L Naegerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06948891883091987585noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8390469520215138625.post-9023761173454303362015-06-26T13:50:00.000-07:002015-06-26T13:50:17.062-07:00Because He Lives, in Oh! Gee! Minor <div align="center">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"></span> </div>
<div align="center">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"></span> </div>
<div align="center">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"></span> </div>
<div align="center">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><u>The Body Beside</u></span></div>
<div align="center">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">If I should wake</span></div>
<div align="center">
<span style="font-family: Georgia;">in darkest night</span></div>
<div align="center">
<span style="font-family: Georgia;">from outward terror</span></div>
<div align="center">
<span style="font-family: Georgia;">or inward fright</span></div>
<div align="center">
<span style="font-family: Georgia;">and lay in breathless</span></div>
<div align="center">
<span style="font-family: Georgia;">creeping dread</span></div>
<div align="center">
<span style="font-family: Georgia;">suspecting you</span></div>
<div align="center">
<span style="font-family: Georgia;">or I were dead</span></div>
<div align="center">
<span style="font-family: Georgia;">long moments pass</span></div>
<div align="center">
<span style="font-family: Georgia;">(as seconds seem)</span></div>
<div align="center">
<span style="font-family: Georgia;">when captured in</span></div>
<div align="center">
<span style="font-family: Georgia;">a haunting dream</span></div>
<div align="center">
<span style="font-family: Georgia;">if you but breath</span></div>
<div align="center">
<span style="font-family: Georgia;">I've often found</span></div>
<div align="center">
<span style="font-family: Georgia;">it takes no more</span></div>
<div align="center">
<span style="font-family: Georgia;">to turn all 'round</span></div>
<div align="center">
<span style="font-family: Georgia;">from certain and</span></div>
<div align="center">
<span style="font-family: Georgia;">impending doom</span></div>
<div align="center">
<span style="font-family: Georgia;">to resting safely</span></div>
<div align="center">
<span style="font-family: Georgia;">in our room</span></div>
<div align="center">
</div>
Robin L Naegerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06948891883091987585noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8390469520215138625.post-57955253134448819432015-03-09T09:40:00.000-07:002015-03-09T09:40:10.221-07:00When Movies Speak to You (and you know it!)<span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;">Here's your sign...</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;">Yesterday, as I was recovering from a tummy bug, I decided to watch a movie. The only thing of interest was Julie & Julia, which I had seen before and knew I would enjoy. I didn't remember much about it other than the premise, so to me, it was like a visit from a friend. Like a visit from a friend who knows me so well, and loves me, and wanted to encourage me!</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;">I will tell you why...</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;">Julie, is a girl longing for a call to meaning and purpose. Julia, is Julia Child, now famous American /French cook, who set out to write a book. a cook book for American housewives who wanted to cook great French food.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;">The stars are some of my favorite! Meryl Streep, Amy Adams, Stanley Tucci... And of course they were wonderful in this touching film!</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;">What does this have to do with me? Why blog about a movie? </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;">Well, Julie, in this story, sets up a challenge for herself, to cook every recipe in Julia's book in one year. She is a writer, who had not been writing, so she chose to blog. She is a starter who was not great on finishing, so she set a goal with a deadline. She loved her husband, loved to cook, loved to eat, (everything is better with butter!) loved to write, and needed a thing all her own to be an expression of her loves and gifts.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;">I... am a writer. I have been a writer all of my life! (Later I will share some early Robin L. Naeger from when I was just Robin Riesel!) I am a great starter! However, the book The Magic Candle, which will be published in a month or so, is my first published work, but only because I set a goal to finish it! My first story, Miss Angel, will be next! But I thought of that one 18 years ago! (it was only done in my head!)</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;">I love my husband. I love to cook. I love to write. And so... here we go!</span>Robin L Naegerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06948891883091987585noreply@blogger.com0