Beautiful Dreamers

I have a secret...

I am a veteran dreamer. From way back. When I was in second grade, I was seated in the rear of the classroom at a separate table & told to color with crayons while the rest of the children learned to read. My teacher deemed me "simple" & unable to keep up with the class because I frequently appeared lost in thought, as though I'd traveled to another realm. 

And she was right. 

I was in another world. But what she didn't realize is that I was actually quite busy.

In my mind, I was visiting new lands & holding conversations with creatures who had wings & engaged in fascinating adventures that stretched the limits of reality. I remember how difficult it was for me to focus on rote learning, particularly since my mind was always spooling at the speed of light. By the time I turned seven, I had my subtle daydreaming technique down pat--all I had to do was fold my hands in my lap, tilt my head a bit & let my eyes drift to the side, and my spirit could escape from the classroom entirely. No one could tell I was lost in imagination, because I kept a vague smile on my face to make it look like I was listening. 

This habit had negative consequences on my school work, of course. And you might think I would have become discouraged by the teacher's assessment of my intelligence. I knew full well she thought I was dim, because another student came up & informed me that I was seated at the "dumb" table. The teacher heard her words & didn't argue.

Cool! was my reaction. I get to color! Not only did I get to dream, I could draw whatever I'd imagined & then take it home to show to my mother.

Thank God I had the kind of mother who always told me I was smart & creative! It never occurred to me to internalize anyone else's assessment of my abilities. And what my mother gave me, along with her consistent & enthusiastic approval for creativity, was her undying faith in possibilities that bordered on magic. While others might have recommended medication or behavioral therapy, instead she saw a little girl whose soul was big enough to try and embrace all the beauty in the world.

Now, in middle age, after finishing several college degrees, holding jobs, and checking off many things from my bucket list, I still find that the creative dreamer in me--that girl who loved to look at the world as full of wonders--is what I like about myself best. And I actually think it's what makes me the most beautiful inside. Forget the fact that I adore makeup, have too many shoes, and love to snag retro-bohemian clothes on eBay. What makes me feel the most luminous within is viewing life the way my mother taught me: As a world brimming with light, beauty & promise, where nothing is impossible.

And I have a confession to make: I see people that way, too. I get so excited when I meet everybody. They're all so beautiful! Each one a spark of energy I've never encountered before! In truth, I'm the kind of person who has to sit on her hands to keep from hugging everyone in sight--even strangers. Over time, I've had to learn to reign myself in because I scare people. A couple of my dearest friends "get it" & are gracious enough to run around with me in the woods every spring, hugging all the trees & greeting the new flowers. My little boys, of course, enjoy it too, and we prance through the forest crying "Welcome!" to every blossom we encounter. They're only here for a short time, don't you know? And surely they deserve to be celebrated. Especially with a lovely picnic blanket & tea set... 

So call me the April Fool & I'll wear the crown with pride. For me, this dreamy tendency makes each day enchanting. Like you, I continue to do laundry, go grocery shopping, cook meals, and fulfill all kinds of household & career obligations. But I never fool myself for a minute that such activities help me "get ahead." In my heart I'm already where I want to be. If I can run my hand through a child's silky hair, listen to his or her fanciful stories, feel sunshine warming my skin, smell new blossoms & hear the gentle rustle of wind through trees, I've "arrived". And as spring temperatures warm the earth beneath your feet, I hope you'll be foolish enough to take off your shoes & socks once in a while & feel its stirring beneath your toes, maybe even letting it trickle down to your soul. When you do, I hope you'll lie back on the grass & take some time out to visit with the most beautiful part of yourself--that part of you that knows how to dream. How to revel in the wonder & mystery of life, & how to let your spirit soar to wherever it wants to go. You never know, you might just find that it carries you to where you've always wanted to be after all...

Photo credit note: All images on my blog are either my own or were gleaned from pictures in the public domains of popular social networks like tumblr, facebook or pinterest. If you own the copyright to any of these images & do NOT want them used publicly, please contact me & I will take them down immediately! : )

Winter Cafe

A few days ago I snapped this picture of a sunset from my back door. I love the serenity of this photo with its brilliant hues & the sun's rays warmly glinting off the patio table, despite the fact that it's only 10 degrees outside. It's as though Winter herself is inviting us to sit for a spell & enjoy her quiet beauty. And truth be told, I've always loved the winter season—the way it's cold often forces us to slow down a little & ponder life in different, perhaps deeper, ways. With trees now bare of their leaves and a delicate blanket of snow cloaking the yard, life seems reduced to its stark essentials. 

So I call this collection of photos my "Winter Cafe." Each one is an opportunity to stop & drink from our surroundings for a moment without the distraction of spring & summer's vivid & competing colors, each one shouting "Life—more life!" In these photos, we see a world at pause, pooling energy at its roots—waiting—enduring—through frost & cold with a hardened faith in what it knows is inevitable. 

Because no matter how bleak the landscape might appear sometimes through my frosted windows, the soft winter sunlight still glistens at dawn, and wisdom tells us that change is always the operative word, the only thing we can count on in this life. 

Some of that change is welcome, when I have to face trudging to my old barn through snow & cold in the early light. I know these conditions won't last forever, and that spring is indeed around the corner.

Or when I walk along the lake near my home and hear shards of ice clacking against the shore. I know surely the wildlife are eager to see spring's return & the promise of more food that it offers. 

But then, at other times, such change is not nearly so welcome. Last night I visited a dear friend's mother, who was told she has only two weeks to live. This news came as a shock to us all. I wish I could have you close your eyes for a moment & wave a magic wand & cause each one of you to feel the kind of joy & light this woman always brings into a room. Dozens of plaques adorn her walls for the dedication & innovation she has brought to schools throughout a lifetime of service as a teacher & a principal. Yet what I love about her most, beyond her sparkling eyes & wit that can make an entire room erupt into laughter, is her keen insight into the moments that matter most in life. Even though there was a throng of people at her home last night, all chatting & telling stories & squeezing in their last visits with her,  I saw her turn her head for a second at a soft sound that was coming from another room. No one else seemed to hear or to notice it—but it was the sound of children giggling. Children who'd been too restless & noisy & who'd been sent to another room to play. Yet despite the clamor of guests around her, the woman looked up at me, her eyes twinkling, and  said, "Do you hear it? That's my favorite sound in the whole world."

And of course she's the kind of woman who freely lets squirming children sit on her lap. And she's the kind of woman who thought to hold a "jewelry party" for all of her granddaughters & gave them every precious bauble she'd ever owned—even some with diamonds in them—and then just smiled at the girls as though each one was an angel from Heaven. This is a wise woman who knows how to put her affairs in order, as straight as the frozen rows in the cornfields that surround the countryside near her home.

But this is also a woman who's not going to refuse her final appointment at the Winter Cafe. She will drink from this cup, and take time out to cherish everything she has ever loved. And in doing so, she's bravely preparing herself to walk that final snowy path alone. The ultimate change is coming for her, and she knows it, just as we know it.  She will not see another spring. 

But the one thing I understand for certain in a lifetime ruled by change: When it's time for our dear Madeline to go, although there'll only be one set of footprints along her frosted path, the cold air around her will be filled with the thrum of a thousand Angels' wings. And to her, it will sound just like her grandchildren giggling . . . 


Angel Update:
Madeline did make her final transition shortly after I wrote this article on the night of 2/15/13. Below is one of my favorite pictures of her with her two beautiful granddaughters at her side, showing the typical radiance of spirit that was such a blessing to her community for so many years. And I want everyone to know that although I've been fortunate to interview celebrities & even meet a rock star during my blogging journey, none of these individuals has come close to the overwhelming volume of readers who were touched by Madeline's story. Why? I like to think it's because people like Madeline are the real stars of our lives—for their vibrant spirits light our paths & make our own souls shine that much brighter. And now, Madeline has her wings . . .