Inspired to say: At The Threshold

All the answers to life's questions are at the tip of our tongue. Why do we need to validate our insecurities in order to have the courage to voice them? Why do we need approval to think or feel? Why do we protect ourselves to the point of paralysis? It is not protection if it leads to stagnation. Stagnation is to freeze in time like a statue. Somewhere between what once was and the possibility of what could have been. At the threshold of greatness is a single step. But what if that single step gets cemented down with fear and we become just another once hopeful heroic, now made of marble. Full of might and muscle: sword in hand, ready to fight but chiseled into place, where he rests, restless in the halls of discontent in the museum of maybes called yesterday.

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Humming

We have a rose of Sharon bush in front of our living room window. Every year it attracts humingbirds. Now the blooms are bursting with color. I patiently waited for this little guy to return. Expectation and joy brings colors to life. The fluttering of wings, the souls delight. To savor the nectar of a the new day. That is just the hummingbirds way.

A pane in the glass

One pane of glass. One red, white and blue basketball. And one frustrating day in the window repair business. My father was very good at repairing windows. He had plenty of practice. Our backyard was our arena, our stadium and the scene of many sporting errors. Who done it? It all started on our one-lane road. Every homeowner could hear the crack of the bat and then the smash of a ball. Where it came from, no one knew. We split, leaving the bat suspended just above the dust cloud. Not a kid in sight. Who done it was an unsolved mystery. All they could see was the weapon, the bat, the ball and the glass now littering the living room floor. Opps Things were different in our backyard. A wayward slapshot way upstairs. Crash. A change-up and a foul tip. Smash. Today's error: a basketball. A hook shot, nothing but air and glass. Bang. Shortly after the initial impact we heard something else, my father cuss "Friggin Kids" It was the only f word my dad was all...

One Little Robin

The other morning I sat in quiet contemplation which I do most mornings. I was sitting on the couch enjoying my morning coffee. I could heard the chirp of a young bird. When I looked outside to pinpoint where noise came from, I saw a young Robin in our rose Sharon tree. The tree this year is larger than usual and provides just enough cover to protect my young friend. Luckily, this tree is right infront of the picture window in our living room. So from the vantage point from the couch I can easily see him. I find the words living and room interesting. A place to stretch out our wings and live. Everyone needs room to live. The rose of Sharon was a living room for my little feathered friend and I could see he wasn't strong enough to fly. Thoughtful segways: When legs are strong enough, hold on When wings are strong enough, let go. A bird will learn to fly but he must first learn to flutter, if not, he will never learn to land. Soar when you can, rest w...

On The Road With Denny D

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