Mary Jane's Shoes

Mary Jane's Shoes

Musings of one person among many. Not exceptional in any way, as with all, I have exceptional experiences and varied reactions to those events. Mine is one of many life stories and how I manage and cope with the events which make my life my own, I attempt to put forth by way of my writings.

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Winter’s Gift

December 5, 2014

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I do love winter. It is a period of time when I give myself permission to go into hibernation, as a prairie dog retreats to his burrow. It has always been a time for me to rest and soak in the year’s experiences, revel in their occurrences or learn from them. This season is a time to recharge and feel gratitude, more so than I do when the temperatures are warm outside and I am more heavily on the move. It is also a chance to visualize for each member of my family and for my friends, an auspicious future, one filled will their personal choices for fun, learning, adventure, and spectacular moments. 

It is in the winter cold when time seems more available to dream, create, and influence the future. During this time too, the actions of the past can be mulled over and understood. More cerebral becomes living life. This makes sense as the chill brings a natural slowdown in the physical, as the bare grey skin of deciduous trees blatantly reminds us. This slowing in the physical realm allows an increase in mental pursuits. A balance is kept. 

A peace and cleansing is given us. The dreary skies can be viewed as a blank sheet of paper upon which we can write or as a stone waiting to be carved. The lackluster color palette outdoors can be viewed as an open field where any seeds can be sown. Rather than finding inspiration in summer’s color bounty, winter provides a respite from intensity and a chance to inspire ourselves. 

In living under dismal skies, try a change in perspective. Where monotony takes precedence, see rest and renewal. Where the bland seems oppressive, find new colors, see possibilities.
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To Duplicate

March 31, 2014

 

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She had bloomed.

Her presence startled me.

The first camellia of early spring,

through the day storm

it was there

deep with color saturated.

Petals rain drenched,

blue above was gray

with clouds heavy full with water

again to fall.

Wind blew vibrant fuchsia petals,

and the fresh green around her.

In the stress, she showed a delicate strength,

a sturdy intent to hold fast unveiled.

I will myself to duplicate.

 

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The hill I did climb,

rounding my heavily ivied home.

The blossom gave ample surprise and quick pause.

It graced my eyes,

stared back at me assuring light

and heat in coming days.

A visual delicacy she is for all,

for those that view only a glimpse

as wind hides her once again

amongst leaves.

She conveys relief as she stirs the heart with promise.

Her painted color imparts warm hope

as she holds fast, patient in her wait

for dry sunlit mornings.

I will myself to duplicate.

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