Embracing Childhood – Almost the last non-resolution

I have always loved carousels, even after learning that their origins date back to battle training devices. The old ones, created by master wood-carvers are difficult to find and many are in need of restoration. Memphis has a special one hidden away in storage. Although fiberglass, this one is special because it combines lovingly created fish and sea monsters with the abandon of a child’s ride. Worries about monsters under the bed are banished by bright colors and googly eyes.The freedom of motion and the fact that each monster is unique made me anxious to parade my . This is the year! Enjoy the ride!

Shelter as a Verb or Noun

As I looked at this photo, the word shelter kept coming to mind. Long outreaching branches tangled with lacy Spanish Moss touch the ground. It would almost feel like hiding behind a mother’s skirt. Open and safe at the same time ,it is a curious combination. Often the places we seek shelter close us in and while trying to protect us, they become confining.It is a difficult balance to achieve both for ourselves and for those we love. How do we offer that listening ear or tender embrace without the advice, warnings and  I told you so’s ? How do we know when the net or training wheels are no longer needed? Do we push ourselves to take chances and risk leaving our safe place, or continue to tell ourselves we aren’t quite ready yet ? Worse , do we keep our children close in fear that they will travel too far from us or realize that they don’t need us as often? Understanding that seeking shelter is a choice makes a difference. It’s a comfort to know one is available if there’s an emergency or time is needed to regroup. It’s reassuring that we can offer it to those in need,  but at it’s best shelter needs to be defined and sought by the individual.

Seeing Ghosts

Part dream, an old frame in an musty silent basement provides the setting. The image, a female statue reflected  from an art museum window in the park provides the character. Now all that’s missing is the plot. Did she escape her life in marble? Or remain sentenced as a hostage to her beauty and the adoration of an artist? Did she recognize herself in the image created or had she always pictured herself differently? Seeing those hidden flaws that we all focus on too often when they are invisible to others? I like to think that  she notices a portal and that she is  preparing to spring forward and run towards her life.

Growing Wings

Growing wings is much less painful

Than being afraid

 to fly.