Tag Archives: time

It’s Not Just About the Destination

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“It’s not just about the destination” sums up my thoughts while traveling to escape the noise and fast pace of the city and my work-business life. It is not to escape who I am or what I love to do… my passion and commitment are firm, although, at times, I doubt the strength I have to continue on certain paths. Plagued by self-assessment, as anyone might be while trying to navigate the rough roads of every day, I often wonder if I should just run off on some other trail–change my direction–change my destination. Then, I remind myself… it’s not just about the destination because, in fact, we all end up the same place anyway. It is all about how you see your journey there and I am constantly reminding myself to stay in the moment without worry about what happens in the end. Therefore, I do realize that I see things somewhat differently depending upon my situation and location. This trip was about certain goals, but everything in between, before, and after is up to fate and fortune. What you make of a day is really what thought you put into it and the effort afforded to enjoy every moment. It will all be there when you return, so to worry about “what to do” or “what about” or “what if” is a waste of such a beautiful surrounding.

I am happy I am able to reflect on the time I take away–this time we were really tired at the end of the day and barely had supper and did a few mundane tasks before sleep claimed us. There is something about the mountain air and being out in the beauty of nature that fills you with enough that you are pleasantly exhausted. My knees couldn’t help but remind me that I did more than usual even though I try to do it on purpose, whenever I can, in order to claim every minute of the day in action. To bed early–one would think we’d stay up late writing… however, a tired body won out over a determined mind this week.

Day One arrival was nice and early and we could even check into our hotel room and then go exploring on Wednesday. We took a trip to the Beaver Boardwalk–my daughter recommended it last trip, but we didn’t make it there. Going this time was a treat. What a beautiful nature spot in Hinton! Yes, we have our ponds and walkways here at home, but sorry, Sherwood Park, the most obvious thing missing is setting… I sometimes (well, often) wonder why I still live here with so much soul/spirit connection to the mountains. This park was the perfect way to spend a couple of hours, wandering the boardwalk through the marshes and beaver habitat, traipsing some closer-in trails, and taking a look-out post in the tower to admire the view. I say closer-in because I am not one to wander onto the forest trails–hiking was a younger days sport for me due to my limitations, ones I have accepted, and am able to push to some extent enjoyment of the activities. Also, there’s the fact that we are in wildlife territory and bears and cougars just don’t excite me up close and personal. From the truck window, I am a brave soul – not on foot, however.

Trips away with my dear friend, Mandy, make me appreciate her even more because of the similarities we have –I don’t have to try to keep up and do things I feel out of my comfort zone with… we match in many ways–our appreciation for nature and its fragility to human invasion; yet, the strength and majesty and power of it awes us in the same breath. I could travel the same roads and see the same sights each day or weekend or whatever, and still be in wonder at the amazing embrace of nature–the bold colors of plants, the cuteness of a baby animal, the calming peace of water and wind, the warmth of sun–even if it only peaked through clouds throughout most of our mid-week trip.

We never lost sight of the reason for our trip, although it was in the back of our minds as we connected with the precious moments of each opportunity. The Beaver Boardwalk was more than just walking through a nature setting–it was about stopping and appreciating the finer details of plants, trees, the view, the colors, the sounds, smells, and feel of it all on your soul. Nature caresses one’s spirit with renewing qualities to create a mood of relaxation and connection. There was no sign of any wildlife–other than a couple of birds and fish in the ponds. I wondered about the lack of waterfowl on the ponds… Mr. and Mrs. Beaver must have been relaxing in the shade of their studious home–we saw signs of them being around, of course, but no chance sighting of the animals.

Impressions of the place are best in point form, because that is how they hit you when you are in the moment:

  • The song of the red-wing blackbird
  • The amazing arrangement of wooden walkways over water
  • The variety of flora with bursts of color that stand out so vivid against the greenery
  • The sound and tempo of the wind through the trees as it rises and falls
  • Sun peeking through the overhead canopy in an otherwise dull cloudy sky
  • The man who looked at me funny for taking an overhead picture… yes, look up, too!
  • Wire mesh protecting perimeter trees from industrious beaver clearing crews
  • Signs giving information about the place: make less noise to see more wildlife or be aware and cautious and informed of bears, cougars, wolves… :O
  • Picking up a couple of interesting stones from the rock pathway to commemorate
  • The lookout tower and amazing view of the nearby mountains through the trees
  • Patterns in nature–ripples on the water, long grass blowing in the wind, piles of drift-water-worn limbs

My thoughts may not match anyone else except for those who have the same appreciation for the beauty and magnificence of nature. But, even in that similarity, there are personal differences. The photos I take are not ones that another may take as I look for the shot that appeals to me; I don’t take people pictures; I don’t do selfies. I want the essence of the place where I am–what attracts me, what speaks to me. To each their own.

The take-away for this activity–always invest in the time to enjoy “every precious moment,” as a friend posted. The emotions that grab me in the mountains are awe-inspiring, captivating, yet overwhelming, at the same time. The thought that this glorious world we live in surrounds us for so short a time in comparison to its own life span is one for self-contemplation. No matter what you believe, it’s what adds to a beautiful life–it’s not just about the destination.

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From Where Does Inspiration Come?

Thank you to Spiritual Echoes Community FB page for this image. Check out their page for more inspiration.

 

As with many writers, I am often overwhelmed and overtaken by everyday life. We get caught up in the passage of time doing what we need to do to make a living, all the while in our hearts we desire, dream, demand something totally different for our lives. We become complacent and comfortable with that which is around us while our very soul needs another place, another time, another focus… The picture above spoke to me – as most with the magnificent horse do… but the sentiment by Faulkner hit home as I profess to be “freeing the creative spirit” in mantra, yet let myself get so wrapped up in stress and situation that my spirit is literally penned (or un-penned if one is referring to the writer in me… pardon the play). And too often I find myself confined by my desire to help others that I cannot help myself – I support while ignoring my own inner desires all the while they are screaming to be free. So, in all this… from where does inspiration come?

I confess I do not have to look far to find it as I have a huge supply of creativity ready to burst forth – old ideas needing revamping, fresh ideas needing growth, new ideas needing encouragement, interaction with groups, and association with loving friends… some ideas spring forth and take over coming to fruition in record-breaking time – see our new calendar for the WFSC 10 year fundraising efforts! For me “freeing the creative spirit” IS freedom. And in that freedom inspiration grows. My journeys and retreats this year – to visit words, mountains, lakes, wild horses, and loved ones – those were freeing and inspirational, and… oh, for an endless supply of money and time to do them continuously! Realistically, I am pleased with what I did this year and it gave me many good memories (and photos). If given to heeding my own advice, I would say, “stop being so hard on me,” as I managed to explore and achieve and produce and create…

I guess the serious nature of my contemplation recently is due to a change in my current situation, and there are several things in the works. The liberal freedom part of me wants to “get the hell outta Dodge…” while the conservative weighted “stick to what I know” part of me is timid and partially stressed over the impending transition. It’s not bad – not bad, at all. It’s change. It’s something different. And it’s not just because I want to pick up and run… it’s because there is someone in my life with whom to make this move, to share this change. We both want less, which to us equals more – less stress, less confinement, less congestion, less interference… and all this equals more. “Living the freedom” is how we see our future. Still it’s an easy thing to say, but in all honesty, hard to perceive. Why not go for your dream, when given our limited time upon this earth? Inspiration comes from the freedom of doing what you love. Freedom comes from living the way you dream. Giving meaning to both is by being true to yourself and by loving someone who rounds out your life with happiness and pleasure.

That’s where inspiration comes from – from inside, while taking note of your surroundings and appreciating what you have. Be happy with the life you make for yourself.

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“Fill your paper with the breathings of your heart.”

~William Wordsworth

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Random Thoughts – Still the Same

Over the past few weeks, as many thoughts have crossed my mind as projects have crossed my desk. Of course, right up front – there is no end to the flurry of publishing activity as I work diligently to meet deadlines while prepping manuscripts to become books. There is excitement aloft! At times, I have to distance myself from the hype as it is easy to get all caught up in the partying when the project is not yet finished. They are all in varying stages of completion and, as I look forward, there is celebration ahead, even while focus is still the name of the game. I am looking forward to wine – perhaps, lots of it!

                                                                                      TIME

As we only now teeter on the brink of August, don’t blink – as it will soon soar deceptive and graceful toward September – it is harder to remain focused and not get frantic. I say deceptive because, in an instant, August has a tendency to disappear! I say graceful because it teases you and holds you with warmth and sunshine, all the while knowing you are soon going to fall. There is always a concern held within the depths of my logical being of there being not enough time, resource, and/or energy… it is a contained concern as I most often keep it to myself, emerging victorious having slew the beast. I thrive on a full plate – and that can be taken in any context – but of late, I’ve had to confine my pursuits because time is too limited.

                                                                                      TRUE

Some of the things I’ve read lately confirm my own convictions in this business, while others are in direct opposition to them.  Guess that just goes to show there is no true right or wrong way – which allows for creative intervention. There are changes in the industry yet, I would be the first to admit, I have never feared change. I also don’t hold true to tradition, in most cases, having decided to take the best of all worlds and combine them – learn the rules, apply what works, change what doesn’t, and delete the improbable. Yes, confidence and surety are confirmed while remaining steadfast; but being true to your own spirit and direction are too wrapped up in change to be ignored.

                                                                                      TESTED

Ah, yes – that which does not kill you makes you stronger – thanks to Frederich Nietzsche for the words which find so many applications. It is difficult to get past the feeling of being “tested” when hit with life as we lament “why me” in a moment of self pity. Life’s obstacles steel our ability to deal with more, and it doesn’t seem so hopeless if there is a chance to find resolve. But what about those things you cannot fix – is being tested necessary to the extent of “omg what next?” The strength in the phrase refers to lessons and learning and growing beyond that which would break you if you let it – it gives no comfort to the feelings of sadness, depression, or the necessity to wrap protective armor about your heart.

                                                                                      TENACITY

What does all this boil down to? Time, true, tested = tenacity and the ability to hold fast with inner and outer strength while weathering any storm that may lay assault upon your being… it doesn’t mean it gets easy, it doesn’t mean you will always be happy, it doesn’t mean you won’t want curl into a lonely corner. But the test of time is said to heal all wounds and truth builds tenacious walls if you do not give up.

Postscript: The bulk of these words were written in 2012 and, although 2 years later, they are tried, tested, and true. During the time in between, I have dealt with a mess of things, yet here I am on the other side… some things are so much the same even though my world is totally different in other ways. I have not given up but will profess that time is not the healer it is claimed to be… for some things there is no magic medicine – there are only band-aids.

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Reflection

I will premise this blog with a short note to readers: I am fine. I will be okay. I am doing what I need to do in order to deal with things. YOU are the reason I will be okay for I am blessed and lucky to be part of such an amazing group of people – family, friends, co-workers, fellow writers, lovers of life, dreamers, believers… there have been many developments since last year, some good, some not so good – all are part of my journey.

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The traffic is light but increasing as the dawn creeps into another day. I am awake and the coffee is brewing. It’s a cool mid-fall -8 and the snow from yesterday is still on the ground. It makes me wonder if it will stay again … like it did last year. By Wednesday this week last year we had a storm that dropped several inches and it was cold – winter stayed this week last year.

There is no reason to be up this early as I begin a vacation week. Days that are mine, time taken to allow me to get done some stuff yet undone, to do some things abandoned, to deal with emotions still alive and raw and welling inside. This week will mean to each of us something different, yet for our family it also means something so common – the pain of loss.

This day started early after an uncomfortable sleep, if I could call it that. This day begins, promising to be productive, but not without discomfort. My memories do not rest easy in my mind nor do they soothe my heart. For I – this day, last year – called an ambulance to take my mom to the hospital. It was to be a one way trip.

I have written only a few things about her over the past year – I feel I have neglected my words in many ways yet have continued my journey as a writer in others. So much has happened – many good things, even though they are tinged with sorrow. Dealing with the loss has been a rollercoaster and I know people deal with death in different ways. I have no presumptions of its glory and where we end up; who really knows? I don’t believe in things that some people turn to during these times – it was a choice made long ago. But, I honor my mother and her beliefs; those give me comfort, small as they may seem at times… it allows me to think she is okay and with her own mother again.

My mom’s picture stands on my shelf at my bedroom doorway where I can see her every day. I talk to her and visit her grave. Those physical things I clutch in a desperate attempt to hold her close. The thought that makes me cry, every time, is how I miss her hugs – I always got one when arriving and another when I left. That emptiness – that hollow in my heart – will never be filled. Others in my life – family and friends – will surround it and make it better so I can go on, but no matter how much time passes, that deep wound will not heal. They say time does that but I don’t believe it for one second.

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Photo by Linda J. Pedley (c) October 27, 2013

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Not a Bad Day

blogging wordleAs a writer, many moments surround me that have to do with words and the opportunity for expression exists even though I feel my own creative writing is not as frequent an event as I would like it to be – right now. Right now being a time when I am immersed in the promises and projects of my own publishing company while maintaining my full time employment status, balancing personal time and commitment with volunteer and public appearance. In addition to all these things – life goes on and I am still coming to grips with me and different feelings, processing my reaction to those emotions, and dealing with “how it is” since things have so dramatically and drastically changed. It is said time heals all and, although it is the catalyst enabling us to eventually move on – it does not hide, change, or even make things better. They are merely, different… The situation and all its affects remain constant to me even though the hurt is most often reduced to a dull ache; it is still there, always, reminding. Is that the pensive artist speaking? Or the lamenting poet bemusing? Is it the need to continually grasp that which makes me feel something since there are times when I feel nothing? I am yet unable to write the negative out of me… knowing that I must, in order to purge the inner infestation and ease my own healing. The days are roller coaster weeks of emotional and physical restraints, ups and downs, periods of calm and nothingness erupting into those of stress and tension.

 I recently experienced what I thought was “not a bad day” having felt no extremes of sadness or pain; it was a Monday and I embraced it, got up and ventured out into my work world. Then, having accomplished a productive day there I followed it up with attention to other business, and then I spent the latter part of the evening in relaxation and conversation. Imagine my surprise when my daughter countered my expression of “it was not a bad day today” with “why can’t it just be a good day?”

Why can’t it, I asked myself, perplexed with my own realization of how it was stated. We discussed the ramifications of declaring the negative over the positive. The only thing I knew for sure was it felt to be better than some days of late, having experience bad days. I feel that to have a “good day” might mean moving beyond that which I know does not truly exist for me. They are different days with some that are not as bad as others. Why can’t I declare it a good day? For the same reason I am not a “jump up and down exuberantly” happy person. I know I am allowed to feel good. I am entitled to be happy. I am willing to make changes, when and if I can… but I am also taking the time I need to move into that acceptance, allowance, and happiness. I am hopeful it exists in the future; in the meantime, I go on with “not a bad day” being those with the least amount of pain – emotional and physical.

 (I was, however, personally pleased and grateful with the offspring who exhibited beyond her years intelligence. She is truly my reason for being; as are my dearest and closest friends who give me reason and cause to smile.)   

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Hello Monday – it’s Me…

Hello, Monday, it’s me… You are a day of the week as unpredictable as the weather. I remember writing this opening statement (the wordpress draft proves it) when the comparative hit me during the passing of winter into spring. I don’t know why I didn’t publish it – I guess I was as indecisive about my words as the weather was of its place within the timing of that month. May was a blur and best forgotten, and as we transgress through mid-July now it seems June is only a memory, too.

As up and down as the weather, so too have been my words. My thought processes are always going and sometimes I am inclined to just write something even though I have no idea where it is to go and where it might end up. I have even opened my notebook or a new word document, looked at it, and then closed it again… having written nothing. The inspiration bar was set high at recent conferences and just being around words and all their glory is enough to make you want to immediately put words to page. I went so far as to renew my own personal writing goals with an all out attempt (internal promises) to get my WIP completed and published this year! There have been good starts to bad weeks and bad finishes to good weeks… and if I were to be truly honest it would be to admit my blog avoidance is a result of the personal issues I’ve been dealing with… people tell me I am obviously doing things right and moving ahead but it feels like I am not in so many ways. It’s like being on autopilot – going through the motions of what has to be done to fulfill the promises already made into the direction out there somewhere. The end lies out of sight waiting ahead on an unmarked trail. Then I return to the highway of reality realizing the heap I have in front of me and, although I am doing things I love to do, I am confused by my reactions. Next thing I know, I’m on a rollercoaster of emotions >semi-happiness (albeit tame – I am not the jump up and down kind of person) and tearfully pronounced, overwhelming sadness claim my extreme up and downs. This craziness will even out, I am told, with time and healing and positive influence. I am ever thankful to those who may wade through my words whenever I do get around to posting some here. They are from my heart and they are what makes up my writing life as it happens to me right now. Although the words are scarce and it seems my creativity is blocked, I cannot imagine ever living without writing… it’s just difficult equating that to not living at all.

Postscript: as I finish writing this post and list the tag words, I contemplate if I should even publish this blog, not wanting to be one who continues with uncertainty, exposing my lost soul… my daughter comes into my room and says, “Thank you, for everything, Mom.” And the lump in my throat prevents me from speaking; my words mix with tears as I realize even in the darkest hour there is a reason and there is hope. She is mine.

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An Elizabethan Affair – WIP excerpt

EA break insert

The window panes lit up like daylight and seconds later the thunder sounded. The storm was almost overhead. Mila pulled the windows shut as large drops pelted the outside shale and began to streak the glass with streaming rivulets. She lit candles around the big room and faced her guests.

“There. Let it rain. We are safe and sound inside and will not be interrupted.” A crack of light creased the sky its boom simultaneous this time. “I said. We will not be interrupted and besides, it’s supposed to be clear by midnight. We could take a stroll in the gardens and enjoy the full moon.” Elizabeth had been watching the storm from the window, at a safe distance, but close enough to see the blackened sky showed no sign of letting up.

“I would not count on that, by the looks of things outside.”

“Ah, well, we shall see later. Anyway, like I said we are safe and sound inside.” Mila touched her friend’s arm, inviting her to join the warmth of conversation at the fireside. Elizabeth did not move but remained focused on the outside blackness. She traced a raindrop on its course down the window pane. She smoothed her linen skirt and absentmindedly plucked at a loose thread on the hem of her cashmere sweater. Her reflection stared back at her from the night.

“Elizabeth?” “I feel out of place, Mila.”

“Aw, sweetie, no, you have a place here. Everyone adores you.”

“Thank you, for this Mila. I know I can be an old stick in the mud…” her hand smoothed a loose strand of hair and pushed it behind her ear before she continued. “No, I mean I really feel out of place. I should have dressed the part. Or, at least, some part.” She turned to faced Mila and looked over the group of guests milling about the ornately decorated sitting room. “Everyone is so… there.”

“Come with me. I have just the thing to make you feel right at home.”

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“Come sit, beside me.” Mila patted the seat beside her.

A hush fell over the room as Elizabeth entered through the French doors. She paused, feeling a little self conscious, although, she should not have worried. Her trim body filled in the satin navy and cream striped skirt and bodice as if it were made for her. The short navy jacket covered her arms and shoulders stopping above the tightly draw waist. Cream colored lace as the end of the sleeves and the collar accentuated her own fair toned skin. She had taken her hair down from the tightly drawn ponytail and clipped it loosely at the back of her neck. She felt a warm blush creep up to her cheeks as she sensed the men’s approving looks.

Edmund moved toward her with his hand extended.

“Come, my dear.” He escorted her to Mila’s side. “You must sit here for now, but soon I want you by my side.” He bowed his head slightly, the knowing smile merely more than a curl at the corner of his lips.

“Are you there, now?” Mila leaned close and added. “Wow. I am so glad Rosalind couldn’t make it. That dress looks absolutely fab on you. It’s like it was made for you.”

Elizabeth smile was unsure, but she appreciated the compliment. She rested her hands in her lap, feeling a little more at ease.

EA break insert

 

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12-12-12 Musings

The date really has no significance to me other than the cool repetition of numbers and the realization that this date will never, ever appear again in our lifetime as it is most unlikely we, meaning the we collectively here on earth as of this date, won’t live to see 2112… Well, there are always those exceptions – newborns who live to be a hundred…

If we are to believe the prophecies of the past and it was more than the Mayans just running out of carving space, we have a matter of 10 days to get our lives lived. I am not going to make this post about “what would you do if…” but instead, I am going to use the 12-12-12 as a launching point for doing what I’d do despite it all – write.

There is no doubt to me my words are a soothing balm in my emotional state. There is also no doubt they come directly from my soul that emits an eternal desire to create while drenched in the spirit of those here, and those no longer with us. My spirit is my muse, therefore, those who hold a piece of my heart, become my muse’s essence and this encourages me to go forth in whatever manner I can muster.

Yesterday, my new day off from my job, I was overcome with an internal ill while at my office that festered early in the day, forcing me to consider canceling evening activities. I endured, making difficult calls and writing more final letters, taking care of paperwork in my mother’s affairs. I held out for an author appointment to pick up much awaited books. I rode the wave adnauseam – wondering if breaking would be failing. I hated the feeling and conceded with – I need to go home after at least making an appearance.

But, as with words, my writing friends are a comfort and a much needed source of medication – I am fine as a loner but the social interaction with my literary counterparts gives me the boost I need to continue. My malaise waned; I enjoyed my stay. I heard comforting assurances throughout from people who truly care. I heard this would be a “year of firsts” and the suggestion to find a way to remember over this coming year was a valuable offering from one dear member’s recent experience.

It will not be easy for me but I deeply appreciate the fact you are all “write” there with me…

splash in time

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Limits? Show me the sign…

In a recent post to my Facebook status, I quoted my auspicious Aries horoscope forecast that so knowingly cautioned me of my habit of ‘doing too much’ and proceeded to claim that I do not know my own limits. Me? Really? My tongue in cheek lol and snappy comeback muffled amid cavernous yawns, says it all – I know. I know…  I do way too much when it comes to work, stacking in amongst the have-to-do and need-to-do, the things I truly enjoy and want-to-do. But is that need to overdo my nature and my destiny or is it my need to compensate for something that may be lacking.

My recent schedule has forced my hand at times with late nights, long hours, and solitary concentrated efforts – necessary in order to fill those promises I have made, not only to myself, but more importantly, to those who have entrusted me with their words. I believe that as a writer I have a more personal connection with other writers when I put on my publisher hat. I KNOW what goes into the process and it is more than just technicalities – it is your heart and soul. Words are like our babies and we all know how a mother defends its young.

This connection is where I draw my greatest pleasure because it adds to my own accomplishment every time a new author, or returning author, decides to publish their book through me and my company. The process is extremely time consuming and demanding but I find it is a necessary ‘burden’ in order to make it painless for the author so they can focus on the achievement not the bereavement. Their words are now out there on their own, no longer protected from universal intrusion and judgment; they must have weight and merit and stand on their own little wordy feet.

To be able to accept this responsibility makes a big impact on the experience for the author, and as a writer I can relate to the elation, the trepidation, the glow of pride… that comes with taking that step to getting your book published. Sure, there are millions of them out there and there will be millions more, but none are as special as the ones to which we have a personal connection.

So, dear horoscope, big astrological predictor and guide provider of unpredictable behavior – yes, my courage may be strapped to the height of my dreams but I remember my limits, most of the time… When standing at the edge of that precipice, and the darkness below overshadows the glow from the bright stars of achievement and blocks out the golden aura of challenge – I realize the limit. At that point, when the blackness starts to engulf me and I think ‘omg, what am I doing?’ – I have a mini melt down, of sorts, and it really doesn’t last long as I retreat for a night, recoup my forces and move ahead just as determined as before to make it all work.

Limits? Yes, I guess I have them in me somewhere but when it comes to fulfilling promises and writing… there are no limits I won’t test.  

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Saying Good-Bye

We can go all crazy and start to make our resolutions early even as it only creeps up on the late hours of the eve of New Year’s Eve – promising to make the most of the upcoming year, in a whisper rather than shouting it out in party fashion. Another 364 days to do what it is we want to, need to, and have to do. That equals 12 months or (after some calculation and minor struggles with the adding machine) 8,736 hours and if we average out that 1/3 of the day is assigned to a necessary but time-consuming sleep action, we are left with a grand total of 5,824 hours to divvy up amongst the many other things (or people) that make up our lives.

For most, if we work full-time, we only have to do so 5 of the 7 week days, and that equals another 2,080 hours consumed by another significant duty in our lives. This does not allow for the workaholic or the unemployed, retired or otherwise non-working person – in which case, you will either have less time due to overworking, or more time due to not working. In general, most of us will be left with 3,744 hours to do anything other than sleeping or working.

This little exercise is going nowhere serious and is only useful as we look back over our past year if it takes us to the realization that time is valuable and so is what we do with it. It is important to remember all the things that have been accomplished but equally important is the need to fit in time to relax without expectation to prepare our minds and bodies for all the rest of it. Things might not have gone how we would have hoped or as expected, but in the long run, it generally goes as it is supposed to.

Saying good-bye to 2010 may be a blessing for some if it was not “a good year” and for those whose year was a good one, it is never hard to let it go, for the good times pay it forward to the next and the next. For this writer, there were ups and downs over the past twelve months, but more significant were the chances given that were not always borne of happy or easy events. This blog is not for specifics but more for generalities as most of the statements expressed here at this time cater to the big picture – it is too easy to knit pick the little things.

As I look back and prepare to say good-bye to 2010, I also remember to say a general thank you; although there is always hope with the dawn of a New Year there is also uncertainty.

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