 I traveled across the sea, to Holland’s Keukenhof Gardens. There, a lone tulip in a field of daisies spoke to me. Inhabit the beauty bestowed upon you. Embrace the chance to blossom. Dare to be different in a culture of conformity. Strive to acknowledge the beauty in all humanity. The little guy seemed unfazed by our presence, going on about the business of soaking up the afternoon sun atop the waters of Michigan’s Kalamazoo River as if we’d always been a part of this living picture of tranquility. 
Say hello to Shelly!
 I’m a nature lover, pure and simple. It’s often the pure and simple line of her garments in a world of gaudy sights and sounds that soothes and heals my weary soul. There is no gauche when it comes to nature's sense of style.
The vast edifice of mountains surrounding Lake Tahoe whispered of the eons of time (at least 2 million years) and of the patience the universe had devoted to creating this extraordinary vision of pure and simple; the bauble of boulders was just the right accessory for accentuating her natural beauty. I could hear my heart beating in the velvety silence of this holy place, the rhythm of my life force matching that of all mankind. It was music to my ears, the melody of the moment a song of quiet reverence for such wonder. The crisp, still air smelled of the poetry of nature; and truth. The strength to endure surely lies in the willingness to surrender to Earth’s beauty and intelligence.  Iceland's Vatnajokull ice-cap and tongue. It is truly amazing to be part of the history of this planet we call home.
Granted, if those 4.6 billion years of history were condensed into a three hour movie, blink, and you might miss our one-second cameo appearance as a species right before the credits started rolling. I was suddenly cognizant, witnessing the seemingly precarious juxtaposition of man and ice mountain, just how fragile our coexistence, just how astounding this planet we call home, just how precious the life this planet begets. It felt good, lost in the middle of Iceland and the twenty-first century, to hear time gently whisper of my insignificance, even as time let me know that in this big, wide world there is and always will be, for eternity, only one of me. I felt truly and uniquely connected to life and to the universe. I felt whole in that moment, and very humbled. Tethered to a lifetime of experience that jades the familiar and dulls the senses, I hadn't realized I'd hungered for a reason to see the world, and me, with new eyes. What a blessing to know once more, we are both filled with more beauty and charm and wonder than sight or soul could ever imagine. 
We were traveling light in the early morning darkness as Jimmy and I made the twenty minute trip across town to the surgical center. No luggage; no taxies; no airports; just blind faith (the usual for cataract patients) today’s journey would be blessedly uneventful.
Yes, life is a journey. No news there. No surprises either; by all accounts the journey has thus far been beautiful, frightening, humbling, exhilarating, and fairly predictable. I wouldn’t want it any other way. Well, truth be told, I would have welcomed a few more hours of sleep (I am not a morning person) before commencing this latest leg of the journey. Jimmy and I were the first to arrive. I watched a dozen follow in our footsteps. Two by two patient and chauffeur filed into the reception room, an ark of sorts on this rainy September morning. I wasn’t sure what the world was coming to, but apparently most of the inhabitants over 65 had gotten word of the darkness descending on our world. If they were anything like Jimmy, they were delighted at the prospect of sailing to much sunnier shores. It was all over just after the sun made her debut. We were home again before most of the world had even had a chance to fully engage another beautiful albeit rainy day. I counted my blessings with each raindrop that fell. It is indeed a blessing sharing the journey with my friend and lover, with my husband Jim.  I never expected to see a piece of the Berlin Wall in the middle of a meadow in Pennsylvania’s Allegheny Mountains 45 miles southeast of Pittsburgh.
Grandchildren Logan, Delaney, birthday beauty Ainsley, Nathan and family friend Riley.
Some moments are so beautiful, so poignant that life comes to a standstill to herald such wonder.
Celebrating life is always a magical moment. This particular moment was twelve years in the making.  For a fleeting moment, the magic and mystery of a lifetime of tomorrows yet to be tapped reduced the years I'd seen to a fraction of their worth.
Shrouded in history and mystery, the majestic sight of Kylemore Castle at Connemara, Galway County, Ireland brought back the pure wonder and beauty of schoolgirl dreams yet to be realized. The love story behind the twentieth century castle made it that much more beautiful. It seemed fitting, in lieu of the tragedy that left the lord of the castle to mourn the loss of his princess, that the castle eventually become a home for Benedictine Nuns and a school for Catholic girls. Every girl deserves her prince charming; and an education, for staying the course when kissing all those toads seems to render the dream something akin to a nightmare. Humble abode aside, my life with my prince has been a blessing, the stuff of fairy tales and fantasy.  The bright light from the window behind the bust of Abraham Lincoln rendered the 16th president of the United States a strong profile in courage.
History had connected the dots – the one-room log cabin, the lack of formal education and the self-taught lawyer – with bold lines of determination that rendered extraordinary substance to the image of a man who by all accounts was quite ordinary. Springfield, Illinois had nurtured and then launched this humble, self-made man into the national spotlight where the glare of another bright light, slavery, had rendered Lincoln a man of considerable moral and ethical convictions. I thought about Shakespeare’s view that some men are born with greatness, some men achieve greatness, others have greatness thrust upon them. Seeing the melancholy around Lincoln’s eyes, it occurred to me humanity might have thrust greatness onto this David dealing with a Goliath of a Civil War. His service was not without the ultimate sacrifice. It was inspiring to wander the streets of Springfield, to truly meet the man behind the myth. His life was all about diligence, vision, character, and courage; in spite of the poverty and the tragedy. He simply refused to allow circumstance to define his destiny. Yes, sometimes if we're brave and bold it is truly possible, in the course of a single lifetime, to change history for the better, be it family, community or country. |
AboutI'm searching for more meaning, magic and mystery in life through travel. If you're searching for more info about me click on this link. Categories
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