no quarter

"we are not interested in the possibilities of defeat; they do not exist."

--Her Majesty Victoria, by the Grace of God, 

of the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Ireland Queen, 

Defender of the Faith, 

Empress of India

so live your life that the fear of death can never enter your heart. trouble no one about their religion; respect others in their view, and demand that they respect yours. love your life, perfect your life, beautify all things in your life. seek to make your life long and its purpose in the service of your people. prepare a noble death song for the day when you go over the great divide. always give a word or a sign of salute when meeting or passing a friend, even a stranger, when in a lonely place. show respect to all people and grovel to none. when you arise in the morning give thanks for the food and for the joy of living. if you see no reason for giving thanks, the fault lies only in yourself. abuse no one and no thing, for abuse turns the wise ones to fools and robs the spirit of its vision. when it comes your time to die, be not like those whose hearts are filled with the fear of death, so that when their time comes they weep and pray for a little more time to live their lives over again in a different way. sing your death song and die like a hero going home.

--tecumseh

as a single footstep will not make a path on the earth, so a single thought will not make a pathway in the mind. to make a deep physical path, we walk again and again. to make a deep mental path, we must think over and over the kind of thoughts we wish to dominate our lives. 


--henry david thoreau

two christmases ago, sitting in st john's with momma, grammy and aunt sue, i heard my buddy ripp preach one of the best sermons i've ever, ever heard.  he related a story about two little boys with two very different world views, one totally pessimistic and jaded, and the other a precious little idealist, living off hope. to sum up... the boys woke up christmas morning, to find a giant pile of horse manure in the middle of their room.  one began immediately to weep and wail and bemoan the mess that he was about to clean up.  the other little guy just lit right up, and exclaimed "i just know this means there's a pony here, somewhere!"  

i felt so challenged by that story, and from the moment i heard it, i clung to it, dug into it like a tick, put my head in the well of this story and drank until i couldn't feel my tongue and throat, anymore.  2011 was a bruiser of a year, but that story kept me focused, because G-d knows there was a TON of shit to shovel in that twelvemonth. and it all smelled really bad.  i mean really bad, like the kind of smell that hits like a brick, and immediately makes you throw up a little bit in the back of your mouth. real graphic, i know.  but i'm making a point here...

i struggle not to be the little kid who wakes up, just looking for something to bitch about, loudly lamenting the poo on the floor.  i so want to be the kid who wakes up and begins to cheerfully clear up the mess, knowing that underneath it, there's something profound and beautiful and unexpected waiting to show it's face.  it's a choice, really--do i wake up and immediately start looking forward to going back to sleep, and just do what i have to do to get through the day, or do i wake up and start shoveling and smile about it, because I KNOW THERE'S A PONY HERE, SOMEWHERE?  i ask myself that question just about every morning when i wake up, and have since i heard that sermon.  and most days, the baby jesus puts a hand on my shoulder, and i pick up a shovel, and we start to work with a smile on our face,knowing that we'll be going for a ride, at some point in the day.  other days, and they don't come around very often (thanks be to G-d...) all i can see/smell/hear/dread is that giant and stinky pile of poo in the middle of the floor of my life.  and that's ok, too.  

those bad days make me miss the other kind so much that i work like hell to avoid them.  being my best self is important to me, to believe that i'm bringing it every.single.day.  but the reality is that i have some days when i am not awesome, when i'm kind of bitchy and neurotic and need approval from EVERYONE about EVERYTHING, because LOOK HOW I'M SHOVELING MY SHIT WITH A SMILE ON MY FACE AND MY 8cm PEARL EARRINGS AND TWIN SET AND EVERYTHING. ADORE MEEEEEEEE.  

it's hard to admit that, internets.  it is HARD to admit that.  but when those days happen, i do my best not to ignore them, to make them count, even when i'd rather just punch out and go home, and pull the covers over my head, and start over in the morning.  because we don't get re-do's.  there are no make-up pictures.  this final is cumulative.  there is no parlay.  there is no time-out.  and i don't have the time to waste whining or wishing away any part of any day i wake up alive, on the green side of the grass.  we're working on a clock here, people...tick-tock.  

the stakes for this game of choices are incredibly high, because it's not about ponies or poo or really good sermons, or that cute shirt i keep waiting to go on sale.  it's about this life, about choosing to see as many sides to an issue as i can, and to do my dead-level best to find a way to celebrate the good angles.  it's not about being pollyanna and constantly running the sunshine hose up people's...noses. it's choosing not to get stuck in believing all i'm doing is shoveling shit, waiting for shoes to drop, listening to whether the phone sounds ominous when it rings, etc.  it's choosing to be grateful, even in the face of the unknown, and to be confident in the face of the unknowable.  it's having the stones to be like moses, and stand with my face unveiled, just to glance at the glory of G-d's back.  and that is worth everything. it's worth being different over, worth being misunderstood by people who don't get it or think i'm just a little bit silly about my approach to how i do life.  it's worth knowing that G-d takes no prisoners, that i will be annihilated by love and grace and mercy... that picking up that shovel and getting to work and singing at the top of my lungs while i shovel, instead of wailing and gnashing my teeth, makes all the difference.  

mil besos,

rmg

refuse to fall down.

if you cannot refuse to fall down,

refuse to stay down.

if you cannot refuse to stay down

lift your heart toward heaven

and like a hungry beggar,

ask that it be filled,

and it will be filled.

you may be pushed down.

you may be kept from rising.

but no one can keep you from lifting

your heart toward heaven — only you.

it is in the middle of misery that

so much becomes clear.

the one who says nothing good came of this,

is not yet listening.

--clarissa pinkola estes