Alas, I’m not goddess of the world. I wander through my own idiocy, bloviate when the opportunity arises, and I would do well to observe a flower from bud to full blossom — all of which brings me to tea time. How is that?
I do not like it when a cloud lingers around my aura. My thinking fogs-up. My feet shuffle instead of step up. And my language slips into what one of my mentors would call “slow vibrating words.” That’s not a good thing because the faster and more clearer that our aura vibrates, the better we can see truth and make positive choices.
“Are we dead?” I asked Spouse.
Maybe the EuroVan, the newest family member, missed one of the treacherous curves on Nacimiento-Fergusson Road and plunged a thousand feet or more into eternity.
A lost mermaid would be drawn to the bright ocean-themed mural that covers the front of the Coastal Discovery Center — a hotbed of seaside activity in a cool little corner of San Luis Obispo County.
The Coastal Discovery Center is a local treasure for learning more about Central California’s coastline and the Monterey Bay National Marine Sanctuary (MBNMS), which operates the Center in partnership with California State Parks.
It is my personal opinion that the need for nonprofit professionals may grow as we watch our government cut more funding from nonprofit agencies. While the board will remain in charge, a professional executive director can take the helm of bringing in and following through achieving funds through grants, membership drives and fundraising team management.
This is not meant to be a point of political argument as to what the purpose of government is in America. My intent is to challenge the use of the word compassion as a smokescreen for the removal of governmental programs that assist the disadvantaged on multiple levels.
Recently, when what appeared to be an angry man tagged me as a snowflake, my first reaction was, “How lovely!” I mean, have you ever looked at the unparalleled beauty of a snowflake when it is magnified?
Like a 15-second jingle, I pretty much forgot everything that I ever learned about Bartolomeo Cristofori’s grand creation, the piano. My upright piano where I expressed every emotion that played through me at the time transitioned from my secret love to a forlorn and neglected, out of tune, collector of dust.
I just returned to Yosemite National Park after decades of absence. It is magnificent, if you ignore the hordes of people crawling the valley like ants, and the over 66 million dead conifers in the Sierra Nevada, with the grey and brown bulk seen along the roads leading into Yosemite National Park through Mariposa County. I lost my breath seeing the death of these trees.
To believe that there are not those persons who do not respect the planet on which we live, is a sure path to living like fools. To believe that some one person can make your life good again, is a sure path to living like a fool. To believe that there is just one path to follow, is a sure path that ends at the edge of a deep crevice or brick wall.