I remember July.
When the sun was huge and bright, kissing the earth with golden rays.
I remember July.
When the oppressively hot air mixed with the scent of freshly mowed lawns.
I remember July.
When summer seemed endless and everything felt possible.
Yellow was all around me, lighting my path.
I felt like I was immersed in sunshine and that I could see clearly into the distance.
In reality, it was the yellow brilliance of the flowers behind me that lit my world.
Wait.
What if I was lighting my own path?
What if I was responsible for some of my own successes? Like the time only two came back with tennis balls in a game of double fetch with 4 dogs.
Wait.
And what if helping others succeed, helps me to succeed also? There is a saying that reads, “We can not hold a torch to light another’s path without brightening our own.”
For we are all connected. We are one.
Until next time,
Jack
Sometimes I find the words of others capture my disposition best.
Today is one of those days. As I waited for my human to join me in the car, I couldn’t help but reflect on the rather somber mood of the day.
9-11.
Two numbers synonymous with tragedy.
Eighteen years ago, the tragedy was the death and injury of several humans.
Today, the tragedy is how it seems that the focus of the event has shifted away from the victims in an effort to establish possession of the day. As if to prove that the meaning of the occasion is more important to some than others.
And it seems that the remembrance of the day has become a simplified caricature of what it could be.
And my heart becomes heavy.
And I am saddened.
‘I try to shake it loose – but these ideas, they cling. It’s like I am shackled to them with an iron chain.
They rattle along behind me, dragging against the ground, always reminding me of their presence.’ ~ Maureen Johnson
The moment brought to mind Walt Whitman ~ ‘We were together. I forget the rest.’
One does not merely laze on the back of a recliner and simply gaze out the window.
One must bath in the sun and breathe in the rays.
Road Trip Pro Tip ~
When determining the roles of all travelers, remember the one best suited for the easy passage of time should be someone other than the driver.
Carpe Diem,
Jack
Hanging out where you can be you is the best way to spend the day; this may be a simple thought but it is not always easy to achieve. There are a lot of spaces where you may have to be less than your authentic self. Choose the places and friends where you can be you.
‘I’ll never be a stranger, and I’ll never be alone.’ ~ Billy Joel
Photo courtesy of The Doggie Den
Summer was the perfect time to let the imagination run wild. I enjoyed nothing more than re-creating my immediate world into landscapes of mythical times and places, for there was no limit to my imagination. And life was only half as interesting without it.
Recently, I heard of the legends of the Loch Ness and Ogopogo monsters. Suddenly, in my imaginative mind, the little stream, filled with the summer’s frequent rains, became a vast lake, and I, a renown explorer. Caught up in the fantasy, I began to wonder if, in fact, Morris didn’t have its own version of Nessi.
I thought maybe I would lie low in the grass at the edge of the water and pop up at random intervals to see if I could surprise the Nessie relative sunning itself. After a bit of thinking, I decided to give it a go.
I hid in the tall grass. I listened for sounds that I thought a large mystical creature would make. With my highly evolved canine hearing, I felt I was at a distinct advantage over humans who have hunted Nessie for decades with no success.
Time passed. It felt like hours.
I couldn’t wait a second longer.
I jumped up on my hind legs. I surveyed the water in front of me.
Nothing. At least nothing that resembled Loch Ness-ness.
But I was not one to give up. For there might be a better vantage point farther up the stream.
Oh yeah. I was on a quest now. It might take all summer, but if there was a mythical creature inhabiting the waters that ran through the park, I would flush it out.
With a bounce, I was off down the road.
Imagination was a beautiful thing. Marred only by the returning of reality.
Carpe Diem,
Jack
Summer of Splendid Sun – A Poem in One Sentence
My fav
summer days
are when it rains
sunshine.
