Zzzzz the last but not least

This commitment for the month of April to blog came out of the blue for me.  A real beginner at the writing genre and calling myself a writer, I felt the #BloggingAtoZChallenge would be a perfect start for me.  It was a challenge to say the least.  Today is our last letter and our last challenge day.  It is a bittersweet moment.  I have been introduced to so many amazing bloggers.  The visitors to my blog have widened my world.  Thank you!!  To those who have completed this challenge We Rock!!

file0001969012862ZZZZzzzzz, the sound of someone sleeping.  Oh the sweet disturbing confirmation of no one being present to us.  It is a conundrum.  Do we stop the misery, our misery, and wake them from their slumber?  Do we nudge just ever so slightly in hopes of their own awakening?  Perhaps the pillow will dull the sensations but alas we are disappointed.  Why is the only symbol for someone sleeping ZZZzzzz?  Is it  significant as the last letter of the alphabet?

This word, if we seriously call it that, is so representative of life events that can alter lives.  It destroys relationships.  It is not exclusive.  Holds no prejudice, lacks humor (well for some) and has been known to arrive at decibels off the richter scale.

 

file0001104767429It has a softer side.  The faint sound of our babies sleeping.  Their soft murmur brings us twinges of a deep love.  As we gaze upon the face of someone sleeping there is a tenderness, a sense of departure, and wishfulness.  We innately know they have gone somewhere without us.  They can’t be followed.  Watching we long to engage in our journey.  The journey that awaits us when we sleep.  Upon all our sleeping faces is the events of our nightly journeys.

 

For so many, the sounds emitted, reflect a language unlike no other and we wish they would just shut-up and keep it to themselves.

Adeiu, Farewell, Buenas Noches, I hope your time spent here with me has not led to ZZZZZzzzzz.  Thank you for visiting.  I will continue writing.  It seems I have a knack.

Z

 

Xylophone

xylo tree branches

Once upon a time in a world far, far away there lived a tiny xylophone.  His world was filled with many trees and special rocks.  No one spoke and not a sound was made.  Every day he woke and looked up through the trees to the bright blue sky.  He hoped that one day he would find another tiny xylophone just like him.  Days and weeks passed still no one came.  The silence sat heavy upon his ears.

Early one morning a limb fell from the tall oak above him nearly hitting him. Angered by this sudden disruption the rocks gathered around the limb edging closer to tiny Xylo.  Unable to move he tried desperately to make himself  tinier than he could ever remember.  Fearing he would be hurt by the rocks anger he kept very still.  Barely breathing and hoping soon someone would come find him.

Xylophone

Days flowed into nights for Xylo.  He watched closely as the rocks and fallen limb danced in confrontation.  Unable to find an escape from them he decided to settle down and watch.  The daily bickering created smaller lengths of wood from the limb.  There was much chaos that created sounds that both repelled and drew him closer.  Fearing he would be injured in the altercations Xylo hung back.  The rocks continued their assault on the limb breaking more pieces and severing them into smaller pieces.  As night grew dark Xylo fell sleepy, unable to keep his eyes open, sighing he settled into his corner.

The rocks drawing strength from their bravery advanced for a final battle hoping to push the limb completely out of their area.  Xylo exhausted from fear closed his eyes and slept.  The scuffling of the rocks lulled him deeper.  Swaying with the noise he noticed a tiny tingling sound joining the scuffling.  Unable to determine its origin, he slept on swaying to the rhythm of the sounds, heading into dreamland.  He dreamt he was a mighty xylophone tall as the trees above him and solid as the rocks.  He knew his destiny in the dream.  Grasping for anything to make this dream real he determined that no longer would he be frightened by anything that surrounded him.  He determined that when he woke up he would grow to be the best xylophone he could ever imagine and then some.

What dreams are you reluctant to grasp and live?  Go out and exceed your expectations!

X

Visions

Oh we all have them.  We follow them till they dim.  We ignore them till they smack us.  We so want to live them.  They come in all sizes and colors.  Some of them hit the headlines while some just make someone incredibly happy.  I know I have lived many.  It is my understanding their importance is downplayed.  They feed and nurture.  What happens when they are ignored?

file00014952326

At the mere age of 4 I had a vision of living in a small traveling vehicle visiting all the people I loved.  It was an odd vision since I could not reach the pedals and everyone I loved lived with me.  It was a vision that I clamored to accomplish.  Totally making no sense to my parents, they figured I had an active imagination coupled with a limited english vocabulary.  My mother was tasked with growing my verbal skills and I was given a new coloring book.  Not to be distracted I took my favorite doll and traveled the alleyways scaring my mother to death.  I eventually gave the vision up for another.

Soon I had a vision of becoming the flying nun, traveling the world, healing the sick, teaching and visiting all the people I loved.  My world had broaden to include several years of parochial school and a larger group of people I loved.  This vision moved forward towards accomplishment until one summer day.  My mother and I were inside the convent collecting books for the next fall term.  I happened to spy the living arrangements of the dear nuns.  Upon deeper reflection I gave the vision of the flying nun vocation to the discard pile.

As life would have it, I was faced with a new arena of experiences that required a new vision.  Having recently enrolled in public school the world according to my surroundings changed.  I was engulfed by strangers trying desperately to fit into already established groups.   My first true realization, what I had tried to curtail for others in elementary school the pain of being left out and misunderstood, was a common experience now.   I wasn’t a stranger to the feeling.  We have all had times when we felt left out.  The difference was how constant it became in the new school.   A vision began to grow for me.  I wanted to help others not feel left out and misunderstood.  I wanted everyone to have the same opportunities.  This time I could actually begin to live my vision.  I helped with the civil rights movement, women’s rights, and lowering the voting age.  I typed, handed out leaflets, demonstrated, and walked petitions through neighborhoods.   I was finally actively pursuing my vision.  I saw death, defeat, destruction and success.  I grew up and began to realize the true nature of my visions.  I became aware.  I also had to become real.

1795624_559499050823795_1078788267_nVisions are inspiration from our deepest soul space.  They are signposts upon our journey here.  They are not standard and one size fits all.  Visions incorporate all the wisdom we carry inside.

Having visions allow us to thrive in a world we think has gone mad.  Being a visionary doesn’t require amazing feats.  It only requires willingness to allow your true nature to speak.  A vision of world peace is available to all of us.  When we take the time to examine our visions, changing within us those things curtailing our limiting beliefs, they come alive and flourish.

My simple vision at the age of 4 of traveling and visiting those I love is happening right now.  I can now reach the pedals and my friends are across the globe.  My vision of the flying nun was adjusted.  I don’t wear a habit but I do help those who are ill and in need of company, traveling when necessary.   I continue to help to right injustices, protect our planet, and my favorite, support others in seeing and living their visions.

It took time for me to grow and crack open the world I had hidden deep within me.  I continue to crack and grow and thrive.  My visions develop and express themselves. I tweak them if needed but never change their original voice.  Most importantly I follow them with the same thrill of a 4 year-old.  I will go through the Black Hole one day even if only in my Book.

Happy Visioning!  Make them large and wonderful the world needs you!

V-2

 

 

 

 

Adam’s Apple

Beginning today, 4/1/14, and no it is not an April Fool’s joke, I will be blogging everyday on a subject starting with a letter of the alphabet ~ A-Z.  It was suggested I pick a theme and not being one to really follow directions completely, I don’t have one.  I have written down a word or phrase for each letter as they came to me… could be a theme … definitely a challenge!  Hope you enjoy.

*************************************************************************************************

“It is obvious to me that you have no idea what is possible,” glaring she reached high grasping the object just out of reach,  “if you had paid attention we wouldn’t be here now.”  Stomping she left him stranded on the doorstep.

Red appleIt seems like lately the doorstep was where he found himself with her not necessarily a bad thing, mind you, just an irritation.  He had paid attention.

Scouring the pages of his memory there wasn’t even a hint of solution in them.  He was beginning to think she was making the entire thing up.  The shiny item
had become her obsession, damn it, not his.  All he wanted was to be left alone.  Always thinking and planning were not his cup of tea, no, that was all her.  Traveling, pondering, investigating why things did what they did were his passions.  She needed to be seen, admired, sought after to be happy.  It was time.  So many years had been spent chasing after her and what she wanted.  No starting today he was just going to sit here in the shade and enjoy his shiny red apple.  Today he was going to do what he wanted. He was going to figure out why these apples were the best in this garden.

How many times have we found ourselves supporting someone else’s dream, their desire to climb after the shiny object,  allowing them to direct where our passions should lie, pushing us to circumvent our dreams, our desires?  Allowing ourselves to be silent and driven along the path of our life leaves us wanting and stagnant.

Be brave, find your tree, sit under it and enjoy your shiny apple.  It isn’t a sin.

 Image

 

Copyright © 2014 Teri Connolly. All Rights Reserved.