Years ago, during one of my regular walks through Parr Park, I spotted a path in my periphery; a long path leading to I didn't know where.
For months on end, I continued noticing the path, but kept on moving.
After a year or so of doing this, I went from just noticing the path to anticipating it. Winter, summer, spring, and fall, I peered around the corner where the path sits and breathed an ever so small sigh of relief, because the path was still there and looked as inviting as it did yesterday.
Evenutally I began entertaining the idea of detouring from my familiar and well traveled path, so I could follow this new one - the path I'd been watching from afar for so long.
But not today.
Today I am busy following the status quo.
And not tomorrow
Because tomorrow I have a meeting scheduled right after my walk and the path might lead me somewhere that I'm not prepared to go.
Oh, and not next week either.
Next week it's supposed to rain, so the conditions won't be right.
But eventually my curiousity about what lay at the other end of that path grew
and grew
and grew
until eventually not taking the path became more distracting than deciding to do just do it.
Tomorrow I'll tell you about my adventure, but today I have a question for you:
What path have you been eyeing from afar, wondering about, and trying to muster up the courage to take?
Tomorrow already begins the second month of a brand new year. Time is ticking. I say take the path.
Shining off until..
I have been avoiding a follow-up post to an entry I wote a few weeks ago, titled This Old House. It was the sad story of a house that fell into disrepair and the old couple that suddenly moved out.
Less than ten days after writing that post, the house sold and since then there has been a steady stream of trucks and construction workers parked outside.
The truth is, I avoided following-up because I didn't think the story line was all that shiny. It felt cold and harsh.
Life marches on.
One day you're in, the next day you're out.
Out with the old, in with the new....
And then on Tuesday, January 24, Ruby - a family friend - died. And because of Ruby my entire perspective on that old house changed.
Ruby was almost 95 and she lived the kind of life most of us can only dream about.
She was smart, funny, fiesty, and so intent on living life fully that she advocated for herself and her medical care up until the very end.
Like the old house, it is true that one day Ruby was here and now, suddenly, she is gone. It's also true that, while the sadness of her family and friends is profound, life does march on.
But here's what else is true: While Ruby's passing has left a lingering void in my heart and mind, the sadness is competing for space with happier, more uplifting, feelings. I feel truly in awe of the full, rich life Ruby lived and I feel inspired and motivated to do it half as well as she did. She left a legacy of stories, friends, memories, and enough love to carry those she left behind until they meet again.
The same can be said for that old house.
I like to think of that old house as the backdrop for countless stories, the gathering place for friends and family, the cozy set for cherished memories, and a place where the love for their children could be nurtured. In a sense, it was the vessel through which one family's life story could be told and now it is time for another family to move in and create something new.
So instead of looking back and being sad, we will celebrate that old house for the memories it has left behind and the memories it will host in the future. We will do it in the same way we celebrate the memories Ruby has left behind and all the ways her story will inspire us in the future.
Here's to you, Ruby. May 22, 1917 - January 24, 2012.
Nothing makes winter doldrums more palatable than good friends,
lots
and lots
and lots of
yellow treats
The chance to get creative
using
ribbons,
markers,
happy faces,
tissue paper, and
hot glue guns
Prestine white boxes
filled with good cheer
a thoughtful note, and
lots of love
And the chance to mail them off, so that...
someone else's winter doldrums can be made more palatable.
Now that's the way you power the planet with Shine!
Shine on, everyone.