Bon Voyage....(again!)

And so, another trip 'round the Sun begins.

It's always a bit weird for me. This whole time thang. It doesn't seem possible that I have been on this marvelous Planet for six decades. But, according to the records, I have. Each time someone asks me, "How old are you?", I always need to stop for a moment to think about it. I even do the math in my head. Like somehow, it will make more sense if I do the math.

Weird, I tell ya.

So yesterday, whilst at my darling sister's home, watching her prepare the Feast, I said aloud, "Sixty. Can you believe THAT?" My sister said that she, too, had to do the math (she is eight years my junior) and the tone in her voice suggested a bit of bewilderment too. As if it weren't possible that I could be that age. Maybe it has something to do with the fact that, despite her being the "younger" sister, she's always taken care of me as an elder sister would. Such is the makeup of our respective personas. She is much more the "grown up". I am...not so much.

Funny how that works.

Anyhoooo...

This morning, when I rose from my bed, it occurred to me that I was beginning yet another voyage 'round this fiery ball we call our Sun. And my first thought was, "Guess I ought to pack my bags." An odd thought first thing in the morning. But there it was. Pack your bags and get ready for another year-long adventure. Because now, that's what it is for me. An adventure. I don't know what's coming. I have no clue about the surprises around the next turn. There is no way for me to foresee the challenges OR the bounties that lay ahead. And, near as I can tell, that is precisely what makes it so much fun. The not knowing is no longer scary to me. Now, it is what makes every day feel like Christmas morning. What new gifts will appear, waiting to be unwrapped?

I've never been good at "long-term" goals. I used to try. Really I did. But somehow along the way I realized that I'm just not one of those people. I'm a fly-by-the-seat-of-my-pants kinda gal. In some ways, it's made for a pretty exciting Life. In other ways, it's been my curse. But no matter how I choose to look at it (and, let's face it, it IS a choice.), the bottom line is this:

I love my Life. It has been hard and easy and fun and scary and full of deep Love. For that, I will always be grateful. And what is to come...well, I'm happy not knowing.

That is, after all, the FUNNEST part of Life.

HALLELUIAH BIRTHDAY ~

Tomorrow marks the day I made my grand entrance onto the Great Blue Planet. And so, I will begin yet another voyage 'round that enormous ball of energy that fuels Life here on Earth.

For reasons unknown to me, I keep hearing this line from an old Star Trek episode where this being from another planet addressed Captain Kirk and the crew as "ugly bags of mostly water". Don't ask me why it popped into my head. I don't have a clue. But as I sat here giggling (just as I did back when I first heard it), I couldn't help wondering about the connection between being ugly bags of mostly water living on a planet that is also mostly water.
Did Gene Roddenberry know something we didn't know all those years ago?
Did he see the havoc we would wreak on the only home we have?
Was he trying to tell us something?

Whether or not it is part of the larger cosmological plan or just some freak accident, it seems it ought to deserve at least a minute. I mean, if we're made up of the same stuff that the planet we're zooming around on, wouldn't you think we'd want to take better care? Of both?

I don't know about you, but I have not a stitch of an inkling of desire to go rocketing out into space to find some other planet to destroy. I like this one just fine. I like the Trees and the Critters and, sometimes, even the Humans that inhabit this place. I'd say it's worth caring for. I'll leave the space travel to whomever it is that finds such things exciting. Gimme a big ol' chunk of land with Trees and Water and Horses and Dogs and leave me to my livin'. I'll even grow my own food. Although, truth be told, I'd rather somebody else do that work for me. But, if push comes to shove (WHERE in the world did that saying come from?!) I could grow my own food. I'm not sure about the meat thang though. I'd probably have to go vegetarian because I don't see me killin' any Critters just so I can eat. I know. What a flippin' hypocrite.

HEY! DON'T JUDGE!

Anywayyyyyz....

I'm really rambling here. Mostly because there are about nine gazillion things flyin' through my brain and I figured this might be a good way to calm that zoom down. Also, I've got my perky on. Sometimes these things happen, you know? And when my brain goes into warp drive, I can usually find a bit of calm if I sit here and type. "Sometimes" being the operative word here. I suppose I could go whip up some dinner or roll around on the floor with my Dawg. But it's been a while since I dropped ya'll a line, so I figured maybe I could double down and see what might tumble outta this here brain of mine.

So...to wrap things up before I go meandering down a road I don't care to meander, I'll leave you with this:

Birthday or not, Life is a grand and glorious adventure and I am deeply grateful to have today and all the days after this one to explore and evolve and play with the Magick that is my Life.

Oh. One more thing, just in case you forgot...
Life is about choices.
JOY is a choice.
What do YOU choose?

HALLELUIAH BIRTHDAY TO ME!

Happy Birthday...

Today marked the day I entered the world...more than fifty years ago. Last night, while I laid in bed, I thought about what it must've been like for my mother. According to her account, she had to "fight hard" to keep me. Apparently, at the time, all the doctors could tell her was to stay on her back and keep her feet elevated. No one seemed to know why she was having trouble holding her baby in her womb. So, as she told it to me, she did just that. Laid on her back for most of the forty weeks she carried me. When she went into labor, she said, it happened very fast. At 4:30 a.m. on April 16th, my dad drove her to the hospital. I was born at 4:45 a.m.

Talk about eager.

She said I was screaming the moment my head hit air. Screaming and hungry. She said I nursed every two and a half hours. Like clockwork, she said. You could set your watch to the screams, she said. It was as if I had some insatiable hunger that she could not fill, she said.

And now....as I think about what it must have been like for her, I wonder if it was something she cherished or dreaded. Was I her bane? I have my Baby Book. There are no photos. Only a few notes she wrote shortly after my birth. I was her third child. I guess she was tired of filling up Baby Books by then. But the notes imply she was thrilled to have me. They are words of gratitude and even surprise. As if she didn't expect me to live.

How horrible would that be for a mother? To think that every time your child went to sleep, she might not wake up? GEEZ. Talk about a nightmare.

Today my mother is no longer on the planet. I cannot ask her these questions. I cannot know what it might have been like for her. I can only speculate. And hope. Hope that I was worth the trouble. Hope that I provided enough Joy to make up for the hassle of lying on her back for the entirety of her pregnancy. Hope that, when she left the planet, she was happy to have known me. As happy as I was to have known her. She was my hero. She was my anchor. She gave me Life. And, above that, Love. She encouraged me to keep reaching for the things that made me happy. And to use the hunger that's driven me my whole life, that insatiable hunger that still drives me, as fuel to feed the Creative spirit that is Me. I do my best, every single day, to live up to her esteem. To make her proud. Wherever she might be. And to remember, ALWAYS, that she was the one who taught me:

Joy is a CHOICE.

Happy Birthday to ME!

19,358 ~

19,358.

That's how many days I've been on the Planet.

That's a whole lotta days.

53 trips around the Sun.

19,358 DAYS.

Not bad for a rookie.


As I begin this next go 'round our fiery host, I think about all the days I've lived and all the ones to come. I prefer counting in days because, after all, that is how we live our lives, yes? In days, not years. I can recall specific days in great detail with just the slightest nudging. I can smell the smells and taste the flavors and hear the sounds of those days, as if I were there again, enjoying the moments that created such rich memories. Fun stuff indeed.

Years, on the other hand, I have some trouble with. I have a friend who can tell you the exact year of every major event in her life. She's fond of doing that. "It was 1989...and I was about to embark on....". This amazes me. Shitfire...I can't even tell you what I was doing last year, let alone 20 years ago. But that's just me.

Anyhoooo ~ I made up my mind a while back that it is the days that count, not the years. As a result, when my birthday rolls around, I find great joy in the celebrating. I'm not scared of years. I don't care about the numbers. What I care about is how I spend each and every splendid day I wake up to. I pay attention to the moments, not the weeks. I cherish ALL of them. Even the ones that aren't much fun. Because in the end, I'm quite certain that I will carry those lovely feelings with me...onto my next adventure, wherever that might be.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO ME!