A GIFT

     My heart was touched today in the most unexpected way.  We don't always know how what we do, say or  write  will affect other people, or even if it will at all.  Today I received a gift from a friend that made my heart swell, it was so beautiful.  One can only hope that it helped both of us to heal a little more from the grief; we both lost our mothers' too soon, although, she much younger than I.  I cried as I read the tale she told, for her, for me, for our mothers too soon gone.  I ache for those not as blessed as we, who's mothers were present, but not there for them, mothers never able to break the chains of how they were abused or neglected as children.  For those of you out there that survived and became a better parent, in spite of never being shown the way love should work, I rise in a standing ovation of one.  I salute you for being the one able to change the bonds that held our ancestors down; for being strong enough and smart enough to say "no more!"  "It ends here and now"
      Our time here is so brief, cherish one another, be kind, take the time to appreciate all that you have, even if what you have may not seem like a lot, look inside.  There's so much there, so much untapped, let it shine across the sky like the Nothern Lights!  Thank you my friend for the gift you gave me, and I hope we can share it with others, as well.  Be strong, be true and be free.

Friendship

       Friendship, as in friends ship in and out of our lives?  Like ships that pass in the night, friends come and go.   Some are brief encounters and the ones we call friends, turn out to be nothing of the sort.  They are the collectors, the ones who steal little pieces of your  heart and soul, and leave  you feeling used and drained.  They take from you and never give you anything back. 
       On the opposite end of the spectrum come the rare gems that we all hope to be lucky enough to find at least one of.  It occurs to me I'm blessed in so many ways, having more than one true friend in my life.  I'm blessed in the respect that an old friend has come back into my life, a decade passing in between our last encounters.  The friendship has held fast, despite the time and space between us; it is renewed, refreshed, as we are with each other.   Ten years made into a nanosecond as the joy surged into my heart at the sound of her voice.   We now share each others thoughts and dreams on a daily basis, surprising each other with the similarities and life experiences that we have in common. 
       We admire each others' strengths, and reach out our hands to help through the weaknesses.  We know when to speak, and when to just listen and are aware when the silence bespeaks a thousand words.  I'm here, I tell her, and it echos across the miles and bounds back to me from across the sea; I'm here, she tells me.   I feel her hand on my shoulder when I have a difficult experience to relate and mine is extended to her, as well.
         I thank you, my friend, for being there, I'm glad our ships passed in the bright day's sun so we couldn't miss each other.  I'm glad the technology exists that allows us to still be close in spite of actual miles between us.  Be strong, be safe and know you are loved.

Dreams

Dreams.  We all have them, dreams, hopes, aspirations; some we bring along with us as we approach adulthood.  They grow as we grow, some by small increments, some by leaps and bounds, but sometimes someone steps on them, smashing our castles around us and grinding them into the ground with their heels.  They know not what they do to each and everyone of us who silently weep amid the rubble.  So the choice now becomes-let them win by crushing our spirit, or become a stonger and better person in spite of their lack of vision. 

That what doesn't kill us makes us stonger.  I think most of us have heard this phrase, but what do you think of it?  Is it a 'kill' in the literal sense of the word?  Kill one's spirit?  Kill one's dreams?  How can a child make this determination, all they feel is as if their world has shrunk to the size of their parents heel.  The remnants lay broken and shattered across one's heart, small reminders of once grand dreams. 

So we grow, and the most painful memories get moved back into the corners as the room fills with new experiences.  They don't go away, the pain lessens a bit, and we move on with our lives and maybe some of the dreams change.   Maybe the opportunity presents itself somewhere along the path of life and we're able experience those hopes from our youth.  If we can but hold, never let those dreams die away, keep a tenacious grip on the strings that bind those aspirations to us, we will survive.   I believe these are the things that strengthen our character, the very things create the kind of person we grow to be.....and, just maybe relieves our children from having to experience  that particular cruelty.   Maybe the prospect of becoming a pilot, a singer of songs, or a dancer across the stage of life, will become a reality.  

Never stop dreaming, nor stiving to fulfill those visions that were such a life sustaining part of our childhood.  They stirred our souls as demons worked their dark magic trying to drain them from us; but we held.  This day we can stand proud, our heads held high, and know we have accomplished our goals.

NEVER AGAIN

NEVER AGAIN

       Do you remember where you were on September 11, 2001?  In just a few months, we will stand together once again, in honor of those lost.  It will mark ten years gone by since the tragedy occured, ten years woven together with the tears and laughter, love and loss, each an intergral part of the other.

       Many lives came together in those days and weeks that followed, bonds formed, promises made, friendships grown from the roots of destruction; people refusing to give up, tired and dirty, yes, but unceasing in the quest for survivors.  We can close our eyes today and those images play acrosss our mind's eye, as clear as the first time we watched them.  So many emotions arise; sadness, disbelief, shock, and anger.  Through our tears we also preceive support, compassion, love and a tenacious nature to survive, literally rising from the ashes, like the phoenix of legends.

      As September approaches once again, we will be reminded more often of what happened on that fateful day.  We will again hear the survivors relate their narratives of families torn apart in an instance of madness.  Don't turn away, don't just sigh and change the channel.  Hear them. Remember them.  Honor them in whatever way is right for you.  They speak for the ones that no longer have a voice, they have become the eyes, ears and caretakers of words of those we lost.  We must be vigilant, we must not forget.  Don't allow their lives to have been taken in vain, keep love in your heart for it is hate that drives the killing.  Raise yourself up and say, "NEVER AGAIN"



AN ODE TO TREES

       An Ode to Trees

      Trees.  Miracles.  Gifts given to us, asking nothing in return except to respect their place in the wheel of life.  Stately arms, reaching up and out, welcoming all creatures, great and small.  They offer so much: a cool place to rest awhile from the heat of summer, protection from rain, and outstretched limbs to climb to seek out our next adventure.  Springtime bursts forth with new buds on each branch, with the promise of new hiding places for us and for out feathered friends.  In the fall, they explode with a glorious and riotous display of browns, golds and oranges for our eyes to behold.  All through the winter, the firs and pines hole the promise of shelter from the storms and the assurances that spring will come again.  Ice forms crystalline structures that sway and dance like translucent wind chimes, even as the snow creates a pristine sea of white.
        As the colorful array of leaves begin to fall, the trees' majestic structures stand out as if etched into the sky, branches extended, embracing each day with renewed anticipation of what may come.  Each one a unique blueprint of perfection, a celebration of every season, their beauty, as yet, unequaled by mankind.
        They stand as silent sentinels, the stillness broken only by the wind as it sweeps through the forests, seeking out each limb and twig, brushing all with it's touch.  The leaves make visible to us that which we feel caressing our skin, whirling and dancing, and lifting our hearts, ever upward, spiraling up to the heavens.
         We can stand amongst the giants of old, dwarfed and enfolded by the stately monoliths and ponder our existence.  Our regal friends help us to keep a perspective on how brief our stay is here on Mother Earth.
        Slow down, take the time to grow, I hear them whisper.  Draw your strength from the roots that anchor us and hold strong.  Feed your soul and your heart with  knowledge older than mankind, secrets our elders were well aware f.  Walk among these elegant titans, beautiful in any season, breathe in their essence, drink the elixir in through your pores and bow your head in reverence of trees.

COMPOSITIONS

         Sunshine                                       Rainshine

                       Moonshine                                 Starshine

         Sunlight                                           Nightlight

                       Starlight                                      Moonlight

          Daytime                                           Nightime  

                        Startime                                       Moontime

Shine each day with inspiration

   

           Light the way with hope

                                       Time is a fleeting notion

                                                Use it wisely throughout your life...



Life Partners



LIFE PARTNERS

       

 I'm sitting in a parking structure, waiting for my partner of twenty-six years to come back.  We

 are here so he can get some blood work done.  In two more days, we will be back here to get the

 results of these tests
.
          Bill is a cancer survivor.  He underwent surgery last year and has hsi prostate removed.  He was

 then subjected to six weeks of radiation treatments.  Those treatments seemed to be the "better

choice" ie, the lesser of the evils.

          Did we make the right choice?  He's been cancer free now for a year, so I guess the answer is

 yes.  Yet, I feel so apprehensive about the visit on Thursday.  If I feel this way, how must Bill feel?

  He's not a man of many words and has always had some difficulty expressing himself, so I haven't

 asked him.  I feel as if I myself might have some problem answering that particular question.

          We've been together for almost half of my lifetime.  We have shared much over these years,

laughter, sorrow, loss and gain.  All those events have cemented our feelings toward one another in

 ways one only dreams of as a starry eyed teenager.  We have both become better people, I believe, as

 we grow and contribute to one another's life

           I would wish any or all of the joy and yes, the pain also, on our youths starting out today.  I'd

 hope they will be as fortunate as we have been.

LIFE

Sixty-one.  Never thought I'd see the day, but it's come and gone, and I'm still here.  Well, technically, I

have two and a half more months-at that point in my life I will have outlived my mother.  It's an odd kind

of victory and maybe that's the wrong choice of words, but it's an event I never believed I would

experience.  I, sadly, surpassed  my son, he was twenty-eight when he stepped out.  My daughter is

 still here, what will the future bring for her?  Will she carry on the family name?  My mother wasn't

able to do that.  It occurs to me, more than ever, how young she was when she passed.  It's scary, it's

sad, it's definitely thought provoking and I'm not sure which emotion is mine this early morning.  It's

a kaleidoscope of thoughts and feelings playing across the screen of my minds' eye.  I miss her, that's

a given; but there were many times we didn't agree, but I always knew she loved me.

So now I have to wonder if my life would have been any different if she had lived longer.  It then

follows that I am at a point in my life to alter the usual course of mediocre days and nights. That if

I want something different in my life, I have to go out and strive to reach that goal; that if change is

to come and I want it on my terms, then I need to strive for that opportunity.  I would love to be

remembered as a writer, as someone that as you read my random kind of thinking, would you say to

yourself "Yes" because it rings true for you also.  That it made your day begin with the promise of

better thngs to come.

It's a heady kind of feeling, to finish a piece of readiing material and believe a little more in yourself

and your ability to achieve your dreams.  It's equally as exhilarating to have been the one that made

that possible for someone.  If my wanderings make a dream real for you, if they inspire, animate, or

stimulate a hunger that burns within, then my work is done.  I bow to you with a flourish that is filled

to capapcity with hope, hope for us all to achieve that which we aspire to.

So, here's to sixty-one, for some, the last days, for others, a new beginning, filled with promise

and yearning for desires sated.

IF I COULD LIVE ONE YEAR OF MY LIFE OVER...


If I could re-live one year of my life, it would be the year my mom was diagnosed with

cancer.  I would have made a point of spending more time with her and bringing my

 children along to share.  We had a good relationship, we didn't always agree, but she was

always there for us.  She raised my sister and I as a single parent and had much insight to

offer me. I, too, raised my son and daughter without their fathers' assistance.

She was a wonderful role model for me all my life and in her last year here with us,

I drew from her strength and courage many times.  Toward the end of her time, I pulled

from that bank of feelings to keep up the care she needed.  She'd always been very

independent and the roles we'd always played switched places, I became the caregiver.

I strove to live up to the level of care she'd always given us.  There were times I succeeded

and times I didn't, but I never stopped trying.  Even in death, as in life, I know I grew up to

be a better person because of that last year with her.  She never stopped teaching me about

love and life.  I still miss her sorely, 25 years later, but I treasure the memories of that last

year.

NEVER FORGET

‎Sunday, ‎May ‎08, ‎2011, ‏‎9:44:30 PM | Kim Kollert

Many lives came together in those days and weeks that followed, bonds
formed, promises made, friendships grown from the roots of
destruction; people refusing to give up, tired and dirty, yes, but
unceasing in the quest for survivors. We can close our eyes today
and those images play across our minds' eye, as clear as the first
time we watched them. So many emotions arise; sadness, disbelief,
shock, and anger. Through our tears we also perceive support,
compassion, love and a tenacious nature to survive, literally rising
from the ashes like the phoenix of legends.


As September approaches once again, we will be reminded more often of
what happened on that fateful day. We will again hear the survivors
relate their narratives of families torn apart in an instance of
madness. Don't turn away, don't just sigh and change the channel.
Hear them. Remember them. Honor them in whatever way is right for
you. They speak for the ones that no longer have a voice, they have
become the eyes, ears and caretakers of words for those we lost. We
must be vigilant, we must not forget. Don't allow their lives to
have been taken in vain, keep love in your heart, for it's hate that
drives the killing. Raise yourself up and say, “ NEVER AGAIN.”

Survival




The images roll past, screen after screen, as my brain tries to absorb

what I am seeing. I know the reality is so much worse, this only

barely skims the surface. Mother Nature speaks softly no more, she

has let loose the wrath, slamming the planet from every direction and
with such intensity.


Tornadoes, earthquakes, tsunamis and volcanoes; these are at the top of the list

of havoc wreaked. The destruction knows no boundaries, does not

discriminate by any of mankind’s petty standards. Devastation

knows no borders, color, race, beliefs or style of dress; those are

our iniquities, the building that falls cares not about price tags or

quality of furnishings. All is swept away that lies in the path of

demolition, sometimes miles wide, leaving little untouched as it
roars through.



The faces, so many emotions play across them, feelings most of us will

never know. Despair, loss, fear, all of those and more, and yet hope

is there too. Grateful to be alive, mournful for those who are not;

in awe of all that surrounds one. Thousands of pieces of strewn,

shreds of people's lives, items dear to someone's heart, mixed

together in the potpourri spread before the world in silent tribute

to survival. We will rebuild, I hear them say, and marvel at their

resilience. It makes me wonder if I would feel the same; if my tree

of life began there. If the branches and roots were well established

with generation after generation ensconced there.




The strength, determination and true grit of humankind stands before us,

amidst the wreckage with shoulders squared; facing that which was

thrown at their feet. I stand in spirit with you, my thoughts and

prayers blazing across the miles that separate us, my hands clasped
and head bowed in awe.