If your future self could send you one sentence, what do you hope it would say?
I hope my future self (maybe when I’m 102) would tell me how proud she is of all the learning and growing past me did, and that she appreciates all the memories of my fun with nature, friends, and family. My guess is she’ll have a lot to say.
Looking into the past (from Pexels)
Thankfully, today was uneventful, which allowed me to get lots of work done in between helping people, which is also part of my job, come to think of it. Other than work, I just enjoyed the animals and their antics.
Apache always thinks everyone else’s food dish is better.
There must have been something outside this evening, because there was sure a lot of barking. But I forgive the dogs, due to mostly being cute.
Watch Benito’s tail.
And hey! I finally saw a bird eating from my tree stump feeder. I kept putting food on the stump, just in case. No photos of that, just dogs. Enjoy.
I’d like to talk to you about life insurance. I really don’t want a term policy. I bought whole life. Wise investment now that I’m old. Fine. I’ll just go chew on this.
It makes me irrationally happy to see Benito play with toys. The other dogs no longer do. He is so full of pure joy.
When the big picture is overwhelming, which lately is most of the time, I often have a tendency to wallow, playing possible scenarios out in my head (entire US Senate revolts!), and other less-than-helpful activities.
I’m really glad that I am able to put myself into situations that will snap me right on out of it, thanks to arranging for my life to have regular POPS of nature here, there and everywhere. That lets Mother Earth politely poke me on the shoulder and say, “Hey, I’m still here, as are all my minions, and we want you to breathe and be one of us.
For example, this morning, I was stressing a bit about having to go get blood drawn, and in a rush. But, when I opened the garage door to leave, I was greeted by the sight of the front “yard” of the guy across the street. Now, this poor area is the least “kempt” of the tiny yards in the NorthCat Villas. Everything is quite overgrown, and I believe that much of the vegetation is volunteer.
Neighbor jungle.
Still, it is full of color and texture, and the sight of the yellow flowers and nandina berries truly made an impression that our planet is pretty darned clever. That reminded me that even my messy mind can make beautiful things, too.
Then, as I attempted to hurry my way to the clinic, I had to stop and admire the deer who were casually noshing in the fancy HOA plantings. They reminded me that they are clever and reslient, and so maybe I should take that as a goal for myself. Thanks, Nature.
Hey. It’s breakfast time.
And finally, when work had me more than a little annoyed about things beyond my control. I had just 25 minutes between meetings, so I went out and zoomed around the courtyard for a while. A coworker asked me to slow down and I said, “No.” As I zoomed, I heard the hawks a lot. Then a sweet sound crept into my consciousness. Where was it?
Back to singing.
The next time I came around I saw a very chilly mockingbird just “talking” to herself. There was all sorts of chirping, chortling, and the occasional longer stretch of song. After a few laps, I stopped and thanked her. She looked at me, fluffed her feathers and got back to singing.
I’ve decided this was the Earth’s way of telling me to not let all those negative Nellies and distractions interfere with my personal song. I just wish that same Billy Joel song would STOP playing in my head.
The Hermits' Rest 