Listen to Your Heart

I believe we are born with the answers. I think that the wisdom we seek, the answers we search for are all within our hearts. I think as children we automatically listen to our instincts, we trust what our hearts tell us. But our thoughts and beliefs are shaped at an early age. Many of us are taught not to question, to accept whatever is told to us by those who are older, smarter.

In school, it is not the children who question who are held in esteem, it is those who study and repeat the answers that have been taught for centuries.

As life goes along, we bury the ancient wisdoms we were born with. We figure out the norm, and that is what most of us strive for, different is usually not good or better. We begin to settle.

And usually if we are very honest with ourselves, there is a tugging at the heart strings.

We hide and try to forget the dreams that fueled us as children, we become what is expected of us.

Each family has a different take on success, but those aspirations are ingrained in us early.

For women, we are usually encouraged to please, and men are usually encouraged to succeed.

One of my high school teachers told me that I would be a good secretary or housewife. Don't get me wrong, I consider my self a housewife, even though I have worked since I was 15 years old.

But, I was a lousy secretary!

My dreams have always been pretty simple, in my heart I believe that I am here to sing, write, and be creative. It has been an uphill battle my whole life. Even now, when I meet new people and tell them I am a yoga teacher and singer/songwriter I often get a raised eyebrow.

To be honest, I have not always followed my heart, I think there are very few who do, especially every day. But if I could give advice to anyone, it would be to listen to your heart, it don't give bad advice. Marianne Williamson's quote, " Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate, our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our light, not our darkness that most frightens us." I think that sums it all up.

I believe we are not frightened by who we are, but who we could have been. My goal is at least for a little while every day to listen to my heart, to be honest with myself, and if only for a moment each day........to remember my dreams, and pursue them. I encourage you my friends, to do the same. Listen to your heart.

Celebrations

I believe in celebrations. I think that when good things happen, if you don't acknowledge them and show some gratitude then eventually the good doesn't come much anymore. Tonight we celebrated our niece Samantha's acceptance to the Physical Therapy Program at Wallace State.

She is a single mom, and has worked really hard. So, we got her brothers and their spouses and children and her parents to come over. We kept in simple, that is what she wanted, hot dogs,

chocolate cupcakes, and a toast with champagne. The kids had a great time, blowing bubbles,

playing soccer, picking flowers. Earlier in the day, Rick had found all of James' wrestling figures he had when he was kid, and his son Stone, was so excited when we gave them to him. As always, there were few bumps and bruises, that happens with a 7 year old, a 5 year old, a 3 year old and a 2 year old, but it was nothing that a kiss and an ice pack couldn't take care of.

Celebrations, recognitions of good things are so important. A lot of people get to the point they just say stuff like, it's no big deal, it's my birthday, just another day. It is a big deal, it is the day you were born, and there is no one else like you on the face this planet! Celebrate!!!!!!!

You got a raise, a promotion, a pat on the back........Celebrate!

Some times, I just light a candle, place some flowers in a vase, and say a short prayer of gratitude just because we all made it . A celebration of just being alive, being healthy, and a roof over our heads. Somedays I feel like a celebration just because I am breathing.

A celebration doesn't require a lot of planning, expensive things elaborate trimmings. I have celebrated with Hostess Twinkies, one year we celebrated New Years with a friend who had stopped drinking alcohol, we had water and humus. Sometimes, we can't be there in person, so make a call, celebrate with a note, an e-mail, a card. Acknowledge that good happens. It will generate more good.

So tonight, there were hot dogs, lemonade, cupcakes and oh yes, deviled eggs. The house rang with laughter, and good memories were made. And that my friends, is something worth celebrating.

Scars

Most of us have a scar or scars, usually they are small. Maybe reminders of some childhood

mishap, possibly the chickenpox or measles left behind a souvenir. But then sometimes there are big scars, from traumas like falls, bike accidents, etc. Some are from tragic instances, almost unbearable to mention.......and that is just childhood. Becoming adults can bring scars of even more horrendous beginnings. Sometimes when we see scars, we turn our heads in shame and pain, because to look at them reminds us of what that human must have endured to have those scars on their bodies. These are just the visible scars.

Then there are the scars that no one sees. The ones that have ripped hearts and souls to shreds,

that have left spirits so weary, no joy is left only a hollow stare from eyes that no longer trust anyone. These are the scars of hate, of degradation, of seeing the human condition so mistreated there seems to be no redemption. The scars of loss and grief fueled by the fear of never being loved again.

Wars bring scars of both kinds. The wounded come home with scars on the surface as well as those hidden. Soldiers face the fear of stares rooted in pity and piety, while below the surface the battle still rages with memories that sweep the brain like a tsunami or hurricane.

I wish that we could embrace all of these scars. They serve as reminders, seen and unseen, that

those who have them have survived. They are road maps of where we have been, souvenirs of

people and places we have encountered and lived through. They are usually not thought of as things of beauty, but I have begun to see them in a different light. I saw a magazine article a few years ago and it featured nude photographs of women who had survived breast cancer. Some had had reconstruction but many just wore their scars. Those were some of the most beautiful women I have ever seen. Because of my job, I see the physical and invisible scars daily. I feel quite a love for those scars and the people who have them. They remind me of how small and insignificant my petty day to day problems are. I know it may seem strange, but I see great beauty in many of these scars because I know the ones who wear them have come through the fires of hell on earth. They inspire me with their courage.

So whether your scars are visible or not, large or small, remind your self to wear them like a cloak of priceless fabric more precious than jewels or gold and silver. That whatever the pain and suffering that brought about those scars, you are here as a testament to the human spirit.

There is a reason you were scarred, great or small and your light, your energy glows brighter because of it.

Transitions

I watched the movie, Last Chance Harvey with Dustin Hoffman. It is a great movie, wonderful script. There is a line in the movie when Harvey(Dustin's character) says he is in transition, when asked where he resides.

I think we are all in transition in some area of our lives these days. Some of us are moving, probably downsizing. Maybe there are those of us transitioning relationships. I know that there are many who are in transitions in their jobs/careers. Some of us, as we age, are in transitions of health/lifestyles.

Random House dictionary gives the meaning of transition as" passage from one place/stage to another". So, that means I have been in transition my whole life. My resume is long, very long.

I have shifted from one place in life to another, it seems almost yearly, sometimes monthly.

Maybe that is what most of us in the baby boomer generation do. I think transition could almost be our mantra. We have studied, experimented, tried, so many lifestyles and trends that our parents would never have dreamed of doing.

My father's nickname for me was Gypsy. Am not sure if that marked me, or he just really knew

me well, but I have often felt like a Gypsy most of my life. Though we have lived in one place many years, I love to travel, and I think would have liked to have lived in some different places.

I have moved through several careers and usually never looked back. I like to pack, and I actually pack pretty light. I can drive for hours on end and not get tired. I think a life in transition describes me pretty well.

I think of transition, not only as passage, but as growth. Stagnation for me is the worst of sins.

I need the growth of spirit, of mind, of creativity. I love the phrase, I am in transition. And when you think of it, as our bodies age, we are in the greatest transition of all. Don't look at it as journey's end..........just transition.

c

Living in the Vortex

I think we must live in some sort of creature vortex. It seems every day brings new life to our surroundings. We have a young deer who drinks water from our bird bath daily, lots of fat sassy frogs, hummingbirds who will buzz you in a heartbeat, a pregnant deer who stays close to the apple tree. There are wild turkeys who meander through the field, hawks, raccoons, rabbits o'plenty.

I once saw a mountain lion take 3 leaps across our garden one snowy winter's day. Most nights you can hear the hoot of an owl that lives down below the barn. In the fall, there are geese who fly down to the pond for respite on their way farther south. There are wood hens, wood peckers,

doves, blue jays, blue birds, always a parade of birds at the feeders. Today, there was a lazy old turtle who found his way into our yard.

And then of course, we have our 5 dogs, Blackie Bear(a 97 pound lab/chow mix) Astro, another almost 100 pound lab mix, Taylor, the dump dog(who knows what her lineage is) Charlie(some sort of Benji shaggy dog) and then there is Buddy(wacky little corgi mix) . I can't leave out the chickens, Blue Boy the Rooster, Speckles, Red Wing and Little Red.

And last but not least, the assortment of chicken snakes, and various others who live on the property. It seems they all know they are safe here, there is food, shelter and water for all.

I guess they have some sort of creature Craig's List , that posts if you are in the Empire, Al

area, visit the Watsons! You'll love it there!

When I was growing up, my friends always wanted to come to my house. My parents never seemed to mind how many kids were around, there were always snacks(usually a chocolate cake that my mom had baked. After Rick and I built this house, it seemed that most of our nieces and nephews and their friends wanted to come here. I can't tell you how many weeny roasts we have had in our back yard! So, if there is some sort of vortex that sends out greetings and ya'll come, maybe I just inherited it from my folks. I do love it, when friends visit and they talk about how comfortable they feel here.

So, it's a good thing, this vortex of welcome, that welcomes creatures of every kind, humans included. Ya'll come.

Mamie's Flowers

My paternal grandmother, Mamie could grow anything. My very first memory of her is holding her hand and walking through flowers that were taller than me. No grass grew in her yard, there were stepping stones that meandered through the flowers and what flowers they were! Daisies,

violets, carnations, peonies, red poppies, blue cornflowers, mums,zinnias, glads, white creamy roses that smelled sweet as candy, yellow roses, pinks and reds, tulips, daffodils, bleeding hearts, fox gloves, gardenias, every flower that could possibly grow in the Alabama dirt, grew in her yard.

The amazing thing, she would let me gather bouquets by the armfuls! I never left her house when flowers were blooming that I didn't take some home.

She did another kind of flower too. Every year for memorial decorations, she made these incredible tissue paper flowers, that were just a profusion of color! The stems were pipe cleaners, and after she would fashion all these exquisite paper blooms, she would dip them in melted paraffin so they would not fade in the rain and sun. I can still remember the smell of that hot wax as she carefully dipped each flower.

Then there was her herb garden out back, if you ever went to her house with a cut or bite or some ailment, she had the cure. I can't tell you how many poultices were wrapped around my limbs, or what sort of strange smelling concoctions were poured down my throat. I wish had

known how important her knowledge was, how I wish I had taken notes! She taught my mom

several things, and she passed them on to me, but I know so much was lost, taken to the grave with her when she passed.

Memories of Maw maw Mamie's flowers are forever etched in my mind. Her talents were so many, midwife, tatter, crochet, quilter, Gardner. Her love of living things, her creativity,

but most of all her love and kindness, those are memories I carry with me. The love of flowers,

well, I am passing those on to my niece Breeze......every time she comes to the house, we walk down to the garden and gather flowers, each spring she comes and helps me plant. Breeze is only 5, but I know that Mamie watches over she and I, because our flowers grow with joy!

I have plants that belonged to Mamie, and someday I will pass those on to Breeze. Mamie's legacy, my legacy.

Sunday

I was born on a Sunday, maybe that is why it is my favorite day of the week. Today was a great Sunday. I slept in, until about 7:15, had two cups of coffee, listened to some classical music, went for a walk, had waffles, read both Sunday papers, took a long nap, picked blueberries, and tonight took a long hot bath. This has been a perfect Sunday! It was the end to a really good weekend. The gig was a good one last night, and tonight as I sit here and write, the rain has finally come! A nice long steady rain, I stepped out on the screened porch, even though it is muggy and warm, the sound of the rain on the tin roof, the freshness of the rain on the dry soil, Heaven!

I hear the rain, such a wonderful sound. When 100 year old oaks look tired and droopy, you know you need rain, I can almost hear the trees and all the animals rejoice as that healing elixir falls from the sky. I know that in the morning everything will look fresh and revived, the flowers will continue to bloom, the leaves on the oaks will be supple and green. Rain........the perfect ending to a perfect Sunday.