“Forgiving is love’s revolution against life’s unfairness. When we forgive, we ignore the normal laws that strap us to the natural law of getting even and, by the alchemy of love, we release ourselves from our own painful pasts.”

- Lewis B. Smedes, World Forgiveness Alliance
(as quoted by Rob Brezny)

Thanks to soffk7.wordpress.com  for image

You are looking at a certified, bonified Tennessean!!  “What’s that?” you ask naively.

In order to become a certified, bonified Tennessean, you have to be initiated in one or more certain orders of accomplishment.  The trick is, none of these ways are to be planned out or premeditated or deliberately pursued.  “Aha!” you say, “Then the acquisition of the venerable title of ‘Tennessean’ is completely ruled by fate’s whimsical hands.”  Right again!  So you see why I am so proud of my new, dubious title!

First, let’s peruse the list of ways that such an honor is obtained and perhaps you can guess which one (or more) of there situations I found myself in, and thus became the proud, such-dubbed honoree:

1)  Your kids don’t know whether to call your husband, “Paw” or “Uncle Paw.”

2)  Your black cat has two white stripes down his back and he don’t smell too good.

3)  You’re innocently enjoying a bonfire with friends, gazing up at the stars, sharing friendly conversation, and suddenly someone throws a couch on the previously peaceful fire, and everyone burst into a tearful rendition of, “From this valley they say you are going . . .”

4)  You swing to hit a fly but you hit your cousin, I mean, husband, instead and all his teeth fall out, and even though he’s a tough old son-of-a-gun, he’s not quite as tough as an iron skillet.

5)  Your favorite meal is ‘possum and poke salad.

6)  You start saying things like “ain’t'n it,” “fixin’ to,” “give me a hollar,” “all y’alls,” and you actually understand your vernacular.

7)  You decide you want to play the banjo but you can’t give up your iron skillet to make it with, so you settle for a wash-tub bass coz you can take a bath in the river.

OK, did you guess which one happened to me?  (This is for real).  If you guessed #6, that ain’t right.  If you guess #1, you need to check your gene pool.  If you guessed #4, well, that one almost happened so you get half a point.  If you guessed #8, you don’t know that I much prefer to play the comb.  If you guessed #3, DING DING DING!!!  You are the proud winner of this contest and you win a free banjo with a few teeth marks in it!!

Yep, it’s true.  I was the victim of a ritualized couch burning, replete with a good-bye serenade followed by a moment of silence as we all said our departing words of loss in our hearts, while choking on the fumes.  Then we roasted potatoes on the couch fire!

And with my new title you can now call me Ethel or Smart A**.  But don’t call me Bubuh.  That’s my cousin, I mean, husband.

thanks to:  www.crossfittriplethreat.com   for image

First of all, I’m sorry if you’ve been unable to access my blog over that past week and a half or so.  There have been a variety of technical issues that WordPress, me and others have been wrestling with !!  AURGGGHHH!!!

Good news — everything’s up and running again, like a well-oiled machine!  YIPPPPEEE!!!

Next, a huge THANK YOU!!! to all of you who clicked on the five videos i entered in Guitar Center’s singer/songwriter contest, a few weeks ago.  I didn’t win the contest but with all the loving support i got, how can you lose?

I was amazed and so grateful to all of you for rooting me on by clicking on those youtube vids.  So thanks again!!  I was blown away by the kind, encouraging responses!  That means more to me than a heap of medals!!!  Sending loads of love and gratitude to all!!

thanks to:  imotorlist.com and www.sodahead.com for images

I took a walk in the woods a couple days ago. It was a warm afternoon, even for a Tennessee October, so I walked in my jeans and T-shirt and flip-flops. The bright, burnt orange of the sassafras trees caught my eye amid the still lush green of maples, oaks, sycamores, and other happy rooted beings. I eventually came to my favorite persimmon trees but they were yet to yield their little, peachy, melt-in-your-mouth candies.

I saw some hickory nuts on the dirt path, amid fallen leaves, and was reminded of how I once stumbled upon a chestnut tree that had dropped some fruit.  I picked one up and opened it and found twins – 2 chestnuts inside one hull — a rare find. It was many years ago, and it happened to be the day before the wedding of a close friend. So I gave it to her, as it seemed a fortuitous sign for two, about to be joined as one.

I remembered how my friend decided I was no longer her friend soon after she got married. I was crushed and very hurt and confused and angry, but accepted it as something I would perhaps come to understand someday. Amid my conflicting emotions, I wished her well in my heart and tried, without success, to not judge myself for doing something to cause this breach.

As I walked down the wooded path, I felt a small tear catch in my throat and marveled at how so many years had not been able to completely heal that confused corner of my heart. I found myself saying out loud to the trees, “I forgive you for your enigmatic change of behavior and thoughts towards me. And I forgive you, Shashi, for whatever it was you did or said, all those years ago, that might have caused that change. I also forgive you for blaming yourself for the loss of that friendship.” I was on that precarious edge of tipping into a sullen state when another hiker appeared on the path, coming towards me. So I took a deep breath and walked steadily on, grateful to have been tipped the other way by a sense of propriety.

I’m usually not one to regard propriety with gratitude since it most often hinders freedom, truth, justice, revolution and that slippery savior of humankind, being true to oneself. It was nice, for a change. The sparkle returned to my day almost instantly as I walked on, feeling love oozing at me from the trees. It sounds weird, I know, but it’s true. Even as a child, I always felt loved by tress, I wouldn’t have called it that back then, or even recognized it, except for a feeling of joy and safety when I was perched in one — especially if it was laden with fruit!

I paused under the scarlet and ochre mittens of a sassafras. The sky seemed to be winking at me through its branches. A female cardinal fluttered into a neighboring sapling, serenading me with staccato bravado, two squirrels rustled through the dry leaves that painted the forest floor. They chased each other up a tree and when I looked again, one was swaying blithely on a far-reaching branch. For a moment I was swaying with him, rocking by our imposed weight. Precarious?  No, just free.

thanks to the following for images:
turnthepage25.blogspot.com
en.wikipedia.org
blueridgebluecollargirl.wordpress.com
www.123rf.com
natureinquiries.wordpress.com