WRITERS OR STORYTELLERS…

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I was researching the word storyteller the other day and found that We the Writers of Mother Earth are regarded as both raconteurs and fibbers and liars. Well, I was deeply offended! In fact, I consider each word I write to carry with it my intention to speak to the essence of its reader.

Words, in any language, can benefit or create fear or destroy. Storytellers on social media are fully engaged in a war of words that include their credentials to impart they are correct in whatever they print. Newspapers and magazines and mailings arrive in our mailboxes or on our doorsteps. These are to enlighten us on whom or what to vote for. What is best for us to eat or buy and where. Yet, not many flyers remind us to look at a cloud or stop to listen to our child’s laughter or call an elder parent or just take a breath.

 

“STORYTELLERS & TIME….”

Storytellers2STORYTELLERS capture our imaginations in many forms. For example Jim Goodman who used to be referred to as Professor James Goodman in Civil Engineering at Colorado State University. I’d worked with his group writing the outcome of their efforts to—on purpose—break wooden telephone poles. Those who offered the poles for demolition were the Electric Power Research Institute in Palo Alto, California.

But that was then and this is now. Like many of us who used to write for others, we now take great pleasure in writing blogs about many topics. In Jim’s case it is his memories of living in Wild and Wonderful Wyoming; the title of his blog. I like that he casts, as if fishing, for fables and true stories from his memories in the Wyoming of his day. Jim’s writing is more in the style of memoir because he delves into the time and place and intention of each blog he writes. One of my favorites is “A Mother’s Day Tribute.” I recommend that you cast a line and sit back and enjoy Jim’s style of storytelling @ jimbomedia.info/wordpress/.

Storytelling: Unaware, each of us live within our life stories and some of us share our past online in a word named BLOG. Each blogger tells a different story that draws readers to capture the memory moments of their experience on Mother Earth. Jim’s Wyoming, past and present, is an example of fables and rumors and the poignant moments of childhood that never fade away.

I’ve always thought that due to technology we are losing our life stories. Yet here I am utilizing that exact technology to encourage you to visit bloggers and stay a while. Why? Well you just might see yourself in their words. Yet, as technology leapfrogs faster and faster into the future, I question who will tell our stories? I ask this unanswerable question because I believe each voice on Mother Earth has a story to impart that someone needs to hear!    

“I LOST…..”

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The word LOST has any number of meanings: adrift; mislaid; bewildered; gone astray; confused… Add your own to this list because that is what this blog is all about.  

To reflect on I Lost—in all its manifestations—is unlikely since we most often attach the experience of loss to a missing bracelet or cell phone or car keys and the fact we are certain we bought milk at the grocery store or lost our temper or yelled at the driver who cut us off or… And, believe it or not, being late for work or an event or to misplace time is also a loss because there are no take backs on Mother Earth.

So I question: What is LOST and can it be FOUND? When first I thought of this blog I made a list of the happenings across our planet and as I did my tears gathered then overflowed. I would have loved to share my list with you and come off as some superpower voice telling you what already exists within each of us. It is an identical, yet unspoken energy for we who live at the grace of our Milky Way Galaxy. This energy is always conserved; meaning it cannot be created nor destroyed.

From our first cry or wail at our birth to the unknowing at our death, not one of us will escape I LOST because we are, after all, humankind. So I offer this respite: Use the forever energy we are given as a way to find your way when LOST.

“EARTH’S SUN IS WARMING…”

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If you are a creative thinker you might consider my title to mean that our sun bestows its rays to warm all humankind equally; with intention. However, in the realm of physics, my title would read more like this: the sun rises on cue because the earth spins in a regular manner. And by the way, it is now known that our Sun is in fact warming. But the workings of our universe are all-encompassing and too broad for my blog to address.

So I thought I’d bring it down to Mother Earth in the form of politics—currently entitled “Global Warming.” NO, I do not take sides on this issue because I know only what one side believes immediately countered by what the other side believes. I might be more interested to actually find out if We the People were told the truth about anything.

Whether or not the term Global Warming is a metaphor implying that our sun is actually heating up and over TIME may look like uninhabitable Venus; sometimes called Earth’s twin because they are almost the same size and have about the same mass.

But in the here and now maybe Earth’s Humankind should quit warring over everything! Instead—as I heard recently—find a way to move Mother Earth further away from its Sun. Yes, I know. Everything depends on our compassion for those yet to be born.

Universe – Time without End

“ME…IN THE AGING MIRROR…”

mirror1Over the last few years I’ve been on a hell-of-a-ride that, by a whisker, I live to tell their tale. The reason I begin my blog this way is to inform that not even the word grateful depicts how I feel to be alive: in the truest sense of that word—living. In the before I was appreciative; now I know life to be in the hands of each moment. Sure, I still plan and anticipate and hope because, well because I’m here. Yet, the feelings behind the words hell-of-a-ride are still brittle. When they strengthen I’ll tell their story.

Today follow me into the Aging Mirror… At my age I tend not to look into any mirror, let alone one with the word aging in it. But in spite of this confession, stick with me because I have a feeling we will both learn something. First I must set the stage for my mirror: Father Time and Circumstances. The Supporting Actors: experience, knowledge, right place/wrong time, troubles, second chances and intentions.

My childhood: Italian Father/English Mother and the associated forty-two first cousins may make clear my mad desire to record/write/blog whatever I observed or experienced. My first writings are in a red plastic diary with a small silver key and today books and blogs and life stories. When young I took no notice of time fleeting. But these days I ask Mother Earth to slow the milliseconds without upsetting gravity.

As to looking into the aging mirror these days; well that is a Horse of a Different Color. As Dorothy discovered in the Wizard of Oz she’d had the choice to return to Kansa all along; just a click of her Ruby Red Slippers. The analogy here for me is that when I look into the aging mirror these days I too have an option. I can choose to look away from what time has created or I can look with admiration at the woman I’ve fought to become. It isn’t what I see in the mirror—it is instead what is reflected back.

“IT’S EVERYBODY’S LOSS…”

Janet's project 1 copyI know loss because growing up I attended the funerals of those who came before me. I touched their ice-cold hands, remembering how they felt to hold when warm. Women wept openly into their silk-thread hankies. Men stood close by to catch those faint of heart. And the true-life of the deceased became visible to each mourner that stood overlooking the coffin. “Pete, do you remember when she…” “Thelma, I remember him saying…”  “Did you know she raised those kids…” “He knew how to tell a joke, better than…” “She never said much, so quiet…” “He is in a better place…” “The little tot just didn’t have…”

Death Then—regardless of the reason—was a coming together to acknowledge a future devoid of the essence of our loved one.  

Death Today is shape-shifting to resentment and prejudice and religion and mistrust and illegal drugs and refugees and drunk drivers and ideologies and women’s rights and politics and greed and technology and all countries who kill their own and those who steal everything. 

Mother Earth has experienced centuries of wars in the names of religion and greed so maybe I should not be so saddened by the shape-shifting we SEE now. However, I am because this war is to kill humankind without any rules of engagement.

So I ask: “Who will be left to touch that ice-cold hand  

 of yesterday’s remembering?”

“IT’S EVERYBODY’S LOSS…”

 

“THE MORAL ARC ~ IS HUMANKIND TEETERING?”

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Perhaps I ask the question in this title because the local and international news venues of every ilk tend to deliver humankind’s worse traits to our homes, cell phones, social media, churches, schools etc. And if that were not enough, they interweave the wording toward one ideology or another. Recognizing this ploy is what drew me to ask this question: “What is The Moral Arc of truth these days?” Okay, for those who would remind me that there are warm moments included in the news to counterbalance the unthinkable I would ask: which news story actually remains in your awareness?

Moral is a word with many implications. My 1966 Dictionary A-Z has a three-inch column devoted to this one very important utterance. Here are a few: character; genuine; concerned; teaching; virtuous; duty; goodness, and moral fiber. And Arc is a word that is part of any curve; especially of a circle.

We Humankind are the writers—whether we believe it or not—of our life story. There are also elements we have in common like wondering of a Big Bang or a Cosmos Energy or God or Mother Earth—Our Home.

And second-by-second Mother Time Inquires: “The Moral Arc ~ Is Humankind Teetering?”

“MIGRATION & HUMANKIND & ELEPHANTS…”

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In the Serengeti, every year between the wet and dry season, the elephants migrate hundreds of miles at great peril to their younglings and themselves. Yet to not migrate is a death sentence to this Keystone specie. As I write this, the words death sentence catches my thoughts as we watch humankind do the same all across Mother Earth.

My family migrated too, from Brazil and Italy and England and by Wagon Train. Their intention was a better life in America for themselves and those of us yet to be born. In so many ways THEY built the America we were to be raised in and taught us the value of a place called HOME.

Today I’m conflicted about humankind migration because the media of every flavor spins THE STORY in so many ways. So I go back to the voice of those who came before me. Their intention was a better life and education for their children and FREEDOM. Freedom is a word that means free expression so I ask: If one who is not allowed a voice arrives in a place that does, what are the consequences to them and the country they now live in?

How I wished I’d have asked that question of those who came before me. I’ve never known anything else but liberty—Migrate…Integrate…Assimilate…Build!

Like the elephants, humankind will forever migrate. The Serengeti Elephants eat 350 pounds of food a day. If their droppings were not left behind there would be no fertilization for the grasslands to grow and that would change and ultimately destroy the Serengeti and all its inhabitants as we know it today.

Yet again Mother Earth speaks on our behalf…But are we listening?

“GLOBAL WARMING & A PICTURE OF MOTHER EARTH…”

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Each day I wake to a picture of Mother Earth that hangs on a wall across from my bed. Her colors are the shade of Salmon as they fight upstream waters to mate. Her blue shades are those of the oceans that buoy up thoughts of how deep does it go? The russet sands of windswept deserts. The white color is the home of Polar Bear and Penguins and the wonderment of what is beneath the ice flows.

There is another Picture of Mother Earth with the name Global Warming. Since I have not and will not be alive a millennium (1,000 years) I’ve not ventured into this quarrel. Yet, there are a few things I’ve noticed on the matter.

Since Mother Earth is a sort of Globe I would think that all governments would get on board with how to fix this critical dilemma that supposedly intends to obliterate humankind and any and all specie that consider Earth home. I do see wars—for whatever cause—high on lists. I see people wearing masks as winds share their caustic air. I see poverty that stores trash until the rains come and the rivers send it to the oceans. I see immigrants on capsized boats drowning in the seas and wonder how that changes the salt waters of Earth. And I see people with placards who hold responsible one another for The Cause.

Yet, each day that I glance over at my picture of Mother Earth I’m certain of one thing: Until humankind lives up to its name – HUMAN KIND – we the collective will miss treat one another. Then I get curious and wonder: How long will Mother Earth tolerate her errant children before she says ENOUGH!

“HAVE YOU HEARD THE BABIES CRY?”

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The humankind mothers of the before times and the mothers in this moment heard their child’s first cry. How each mother answered that wail is still ringing in their ears. On Mother Earth it is expected that each newborn comes with tears to shed for all that each of us will encounter throughout our life. Yet the total tears destined to be shed are equally in the hands of those who are the baby’s caretakers.

Since I am not qualified to speak for the varied mothers in the Animal Kingdom, I will not. But I will add that in my international travels the babies in each pride we encountered are sheltered and violently protected; even at the cost of their parent’s life. And yes, even some spiders who give their own body as food to allow their many babies to survive.

Yes, worldwide health issues silence many a newborn’s first cry. Yes, there are those who try to help yet cannot due to a lack of knowledge, religion, fear of immunizations, corruption, and the silenced voice of women. I am certain you have your own list so I won’t continue.

But in America, so far, we have national and state and county programs and courts of law, and law firms, family counseling, etc. to protect that first cry of a newborn. Yet, the criteria within these well-intentioned agencies cannot and do not hear nor see the babies cry.

“Have You Heard The Babies Cry?” If so, how many total tears are we willing to tolerate on their behalf? First we will hear their whimper and then their scream.