Dinosaurs at the Library

 

My library was full of dinosaurs!  Big, scary, multi-colored dinosaurs of all shapes and sizes complete with razor sharp teeth and big shiny, watchful eyes.  A few of them actually moved thanks to what I now know were small motorized parts.  The dinosaurs were made of paper mache, that’s also what I know now. 

 

But, when I was young, the resident be-scaled giants were made of bones, muscles, skin and teeth.  And, they watched me with their big eyes, shiny as glass.  I tried to stay out of their view, but it seemed as if one was poised at the end of every aisle, especially the children’s book aisles, which is where I spent my time.  Nonetheless, their watchful gazes didn’t keep me from spending an hour or so every other week browsing the new releases.  I was always looking for something new, having read almost every kids' book my library had in stock.  I even checked out an encyclopedia occasionally.

Dinosaurs.  That is what my library held for me; a land where dinosaurs ran free! 

Clutter Clearing

I’m a firm believer that a person’s dwelling area(s) reflect the state of their mind, body and spirit.  I’ve read several books on the subject and they have only confirmed what that I’ve always felt and known to be absolutely true – our living spaces are “living”.  In fact they are either quite “alive” or “comatose”, whichever reflects our current state of being.

Case in point, I once went with a friend to someone’s residence in order to retrieve a set of dishes that the person had given them.  I had never been to a home in this state of disarray before.  It was dark, the curtains were drawn shut.  It was dusty, smelly, roaches skittered everywhere, and spider webs (and their occupants) leered at me from every corner, literally.  It was a regular Haunted Mansion.  I couldn’t comprehend how someone could live and eat there, let alone sleep there.  And who lived there?   She was an emergency room nurse.  Would I want her treating me or a loved one?  Umm, no.  You might think that statement seems a bit judgmental, but to me someone with a job concerning the well-being of others shouldn’t let their own well-being fall to such shambles.   I later learned that she was fired shortly thereafter  for being under the influence of illegal substances.  Hmmm…  I heard that she went through rehabilitation, threw everything away, cleaned everything and is doing much better.

I’ve seen one room shacks in the Caribbean and Mexico.  There is a difference between being poor, and being dirty.  I’ve been in rich people’s houses that are disgusting and uncomfortable, and in poor people’s houses that are lovely and comforting. 

One of the best feelings is being able to let go of “things” that are no longer needed, and one of the first steps to doing that is to clear out some clutter.  Start with a drawer.  It works, it brings clarity.  It adjusts focus.  It calms nerves.  It clears mental cobwebs. 

It’s…necessary.

 

(Disclaimer - Having said all that, I also realize that some people have a mental disorder that requires that they hold on to things. I also have random items that I have held on to that seemingly have no value to anyone, but they do to me. However, I can’t imagine the psychic clutter of an entire house filled with things that I couldn’t bear to get rid of. It would be debilitating.) 

Free Gifts

I just realized that even though next week is my 39^th birthday, it actually signifies the completion of 40 laps around the sun.  Not 39.  We don’t celebrate the day we are actually born as our first birthday; we celebrate it a year later, after completing our first lap.  So, coming upon 40 laps, I’ve had some thoughts.

First, I don’t feel 40 (or 39, or whatever).  Second, sometimes I feel 12, sometimes I feel 99.  But, never 40.

 

Last year, right around my birthday, I came up with the idea that I am “adaptable” rather than “moldable”.  I think that still holds true.  Being adaptable is a conscious effort on the part of humans.  We allow ourselves to adapt.  It’s a decision we can always back out of.  And, if it is a conscious choice, it is a good thing, right?  Maybe yes, maybe no.  It depends on the circumstances revolving around the choice to adapt.  Are we choosing to do so based on what is the best for us, or what “other’s” think is the best for us? 

Being adaptable is a gift, a wonderful present called “free will” that we were all given the day we are born.  It is non-refundable and non-returnable.  It’s a gift that we are all free to use every day.

How are we going to use it?

Excerpt from "The Plane Truth"

"It's timely, terrifying and a great read," - Joyce Brennan, Author 

 

Here is an expert from “The Plane Truth”, available at: http://www.smashwords.com/books/view/214003

     “So, how many plane crashes have you been in, Aiden?”

     “We’re not crashing,” he reminded her.  “We’re landing.”

     “Not helping,” she said and managed a small smile.

     “We’ll be fine.  And, after we land in one piece, you and I will have a drink together…to calm your nerves,” he said.

     He was her potential boss.  She couldn’t have a drink with him.  Or could she?  Just what was he asking?

     For a moment she forgot all about their impending doom and began worrying that she had bad breath.

     “A drink, at the airport in Reno.  You and me…” he started.

     Suddenly, a very loud bang rocked the plane slightly to the side and the cabin lights flickered.