Tag Archives: destiny

The Evening Star

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evening star over cemetary

An infant’s cry cracks the dawn of a day in all eternity

And who’s to say what will unfold and what shall be his destiny

By mid-morning all the lessons learned, freedom is at hand

And play ensues till afternoon when he becomes a man

Then work and duty call on him to strive for his success

But by the eve, he realizes more want for happiness

The fire of the afternoon has burned to smoldering coals

And he’s warmed by his memories as he faces being old

But it’s in the early evening when twilight fills the gap

Between the burning heat of day and slumber’s cozy wrap

It’s here where peace and contentment wait

Like the twinkling evening star

Barely visible unless you concentrate upon the very far.

Before the night overtakes it, it has a solemn place

To witness, as it stands alone

The utter state of grace

You Say It’s Your Birthday. It’s My Birthday Too.

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“Not the Barry Bonds, Mom. Ok? Not the Barry Bonds.” Barry_Bonds_follow_through

It’s been twenty years or so since my son Dylan said that.  Something had ended up broken – probably due to “just messin’ around” – and restitution was owed. Usually, I’d cover what losses were incurred, but for whatever reason, this time I had told him that it was coming out of his money. He smugly replied that he had no money. “Easy fix.” I said “You have baseball cards. I guess we’ll have to sell one of those.”  “The Barry Bonds” referred to the acrylic-encased prized rookie card.

Bonds is now considered to be one of the greatest baseball players of all-time. He has a record-setting seven MVP awards. He is a 14-time All-Star and 8-time Gold Glove-winner. He holds numerous Major League Baseball records, including the all-time Major League Baseball home run record with 762 and the single-season Major League record for home runs with 73 (set in 2001), and is also the all-time career leader in both walks (2,558) and intentional walks (688).

But that’s not what made him special. Not to Dylan. He was special because he was born on July 24th.

That’s a big deal you see. It’s Dylan’s birthday.

Also born on July 24th? Alexander Dumas, author of The Count of Monte Cristo, Dylan’s favorite book.

I remember when he discovered the fact that people who had accomplished great things had been born on his birthday. A look came over him, a look of simultaneous amazement and pride. The look conveyed “Why not me?”

It’s been all downhill from there.

Dylan was convinced from that point on that being born on a day that special was proof of the magnitude of his own destiny.

And who am I to judge? Just a parent… trying to build the confidence of her eight-year-old. So yes, I agreed that being born on July 24th was indeed a most fortuitous event. The universe clearly had big things in mind to have him arrive on such a day. And that’s what I told him “You’re Dylan. And the Universe loves you.”

He’s a grown man now… married to his college sweetheart, expecting a baby girl next month. He works in the industry that has always fascinated him – Finance. He restored a bargain-priced foreclosed house into a very comfortable home in the mountains. And he is, by all accounts, the “nicest, most even-tempered guy” anyone has ever met… at least that’s what people tell me.

On his wedding day, one of his guests asked “Dylan, man, you have it all… a great house, a fantastic job, and now a beautiful wife. You just seem to get everything you want. How do you do it?” With his characteristic laugh and big smile, he replied, “I’m Dylan and the Universe loves me.”

All because of that one special day. And what do we know about birthdays? We all know birthdays are like… well, they’re like opinions… everybody has one. So who are the greats born on your day? Maybe it’s you.

“You say it’s your birthday

Well it’s my birthday too, yeah

You say it’s your birthday

We’re gonna have a good time

I’m glad it’s your birthday

Happy birthday to you.”
~ The Beatles

The Ex marks the spot

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fire and water

A clenching fist of words reached within

And tore the fibers that bound your life to mine

Alone I am ready to begin

To fill the future’s unending depth of time.

The breath that once spoke from heart to heart

Fueling flames raging in a canyon of years

Scorched the earth and drove our love apart

Escaping on a river of Memory’s tears.

But distance now has changed the view of pain

From leaving me to waste and fear and cry

To knowing that it passes as All again.

Faith renews and Love will not deny.

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From my window I can see a pond.

I guess it’s not really a pond. It’s a bioswale where the runoff from the rain fills the retention basin until it can slowly seep into the ground. But, when the water is up, and there are ducks paddling, it’s a pond. It’s surrounded on three sides by a small forest and the little hill around it is high enough to serve for sledding in the snow.

There’s a hawk that circles over the woods occasionally; some doves nest nearby; a swarm of sparrows visits regularly; and every now and then a blue heron tries his luck. Mostly though, gaggles of Canada geese visit to graze the green grass on the slope and float on what water is there. I watch them grazing, a few keeping their heads up on guard while the others eat. Then in turn the others will stand watch until everyone has his fill.

The past few days a single goose has been here by herself. I say “her” because she’s a little slighter in size than most of the geese I see. She grazes alone. She swims alone. She tucks her legs under her and rests alone. A dog-walker came a little close, and she rose up and waddled a few steps, spread her wings in a flurry and settled back down. The puppy proved disinterested and wandered on.

So I wonder about this lone goose. Certainly, she would be safer among her relatives.  Might she be injured? But no, she has flown to the water and landed and swam, so clearly if she wanted, she could leave.  Has the flock left her?  Do geese do that? Abandon one of their own? But again, a gaggle passes over and she doesn’t even honk at them.  She has the grass she needs for grazing, the pond – should she need to move away from danger – and at the rim of the berm, she rests.

Brave goose.

She passes the time in serene surroundings.

Such is the way with wild animals. In uncomplicated nature, they are fulfilled in each moment. Once basic needs are met, they are at ease – creatures with no struggle, no schedule, no worry, no regret. Compelled at times to action, but moving freely, living their lives to the utmost of their natural ability.

And as the last light of day skims the treetops and sets the edge of the hill softly aglow, she lingers, content.

“…therefore do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself. ”

Matthew 6:25-34

On Her Own