Gratitude Monday -- Birthday Edition

Yesterday was my birthday. This makes me 57 now and grateful for many, many things.
I'm healthy, happy, secure, and well looked after.
I love and am loved.
I get to do stuff I want.
Life is good and relatively easy in that the house is warm, potable water is available at the turn of a tap, the fridge, freezer, and cupboards are stocked with good, healthy food as well a few treats that are good in only a few senses of the term.
If there's more that one could ask,  then I am not aware of it and therefore do not need it.
Life is good.

Gratitude Monday-- Unicorn Guide Edition

My unicorn guide came to me yesterday.

I felt unicorn energy around me Saturday evening. It impelled me to research them. 

The next morning she came by, and she brought a herd.

Encore, the lead unicorn, said her name was a hint.

She showed me a key in my mind and guided me to unlock a door, similar to a bank vault.

In it were shelves marked Skills, Abilities, Talents, and a few others at least one of which referred to specifically to those things I used to do but put aside,

I expect she told me to call her Encore because it means to come back out and offer a bit more.  I believe it means get back to doing what I used to do.

That may refer to many things from hypnosis and energy healings to occasionally speaking in rhyme,  or even living in my imagination.

I liked to work with my hands. Is still do, but it was different then.  

I used to take things apart to see how they work. When I was much younger, under 10, I liked to tinker around with stopped clocks and watches. I made them work. I have no idea how I did it, but it was fun. It felt good and right to do it.

Whatever the message means I am grateful for it, and grateful for Encore and the other unicorns coming into my life.

Gratitude Monday- My Husband Baked Edition

Yesterday my husband baked and for it I am grateful.
He made Povetica, a Croatian yeast-based coffee cake with walnut filling.
It took a few hours as there's rising involved.
It tastes really good.
No photos as he was not pleased with the look.  It's strudel-like, but with gluten free flours that can be a challenge.
It was a grey day yesterday with the promise of snow ever present, but never fulfilled.  It was the perfect day for baking.
He did the dishes afterward. I am grateful for that as well.

Gratitude Monday--Repurposed Writing Edition

I've abandoned manuscripts here and there. Some part way through and others after a few rewrites.
Generally I keep them in one form or another as one never knows when a character, turn of phrase, or even a story bit will come in handy.
You can bet I am grateful I do it.

Yesterday such a thing happened.
I clicked on an abandoned manuscript and ended up reading a recast excerpt from a different manuscript. I'd made it fit with very few changes.
This particular manuscript still needs to rest. It may never see the light of day. But the excerpt might.
Either I can recast the original or recast this recast and make it a standalone story.
In fact, I've left myself a computer sticky note to do just exactly that.

I'm eager to get at it and will know shortly if it is workable. Whether it is or not does not matter right now. What matters is I have the material to play with and for that I am grateful.

Here's A Thought

Space neither begins nor ends.

Neither do we.

What do you think?

Gratitude Monday - A Day Like Any Other

Much as I like a bit of excitement, doing something different, having new experiences, there's a lot to be said for routine.
There's good routine, the day to day activities of regular life.  I am grateful for them. They bring stability, order, and peace to life.
They get me through the day and are excellent marker posts for days when the interesting stuff happens.
Each day I get up, get out of bed, pour a partial cup of coffee, and go outside.
I drink this first bit of coffee outdoors.  I greet the sky, the day, feel how it is, gaze at the stars if they're out, or the morning sun if it's summertime.
It is a simple thing, a daily pleasure that lays the groundwork for the day, and for it I am grateful.

Comfort, Then The Fear

Not long ago I wrote about the clown in the barn. Shortly afterward I realized I'd forgotten something important.

The fear didn't set in right away. 

You see, until I was five years old I'd go to the barn every chance I got to gaze at the drawing on the wall. I'd forgotten this part until after the blog post was published.

I suppose it was a clown then, too, but I didn't fear it. The grease pencil figure  on the boards was comforting.

For those moments when I stared at it I was with the visitor again.

I remembered.

What did I remember?

The feelings of warmth and comfort, love and belonging.

But the most important and compelling thing I remembered was who I was.

I am not sure what that means.

I still remembered the thing that the clown drawing was supposed to help me recall.

In those days I had yet to forget it. I thought I never would.

I also never used to avoid the unused chop bin in the barn.

In fact I liked to go in the room and often did so while dad did chores.

But one late winter afternoon that all changed. I went in the room as I commonly did. I asked dad to close and lock the door which he did.

(Side note: the lock was a wooden handle that one simply twisted leaving one end in front of the door  and the other by the wall.)

The room was bare. The light stayed off. There was no possible way for me to get into any trouble.

I was there only seconds.

The clown from the wall jumped me from behind. One arm went around my neck, the other went around my waist.

I screamed.

Dad let me out.

Years ago mom, dad, my sister and I went back to the farm to look.  I took photos of the wall. I took photos of the room.

Of course there's nothing.

I have no idea what actually happened

My dad was a few steps away about to do the chores. I think my sister was in the barn. In my mind I see someone about her size, wearing red.

It was after this incident the fear kicked in.

I never went back in to gaze at the drawing on the wall. All comfort from it was gone.

I forgot who really put it there. I forgot what I said I'd remember.

I suspect that was the point of the chop bin incident.

I had to forget all of that and simply be a human child. Visitations would cloud that life.

The cord had to be cut.

It hurts, but I get it.

I continue to look into this chiefly through self-hypnosis.  Yesterday morning I tried to take a closer look at it. I had a  mental image of a white door with a round handle closing. I know there's something on the other side I need to see.

But I guess that's for another day.