A Curious Soul

I have a curious soul--a restless soul. I question whether that is a curse or a gift. There is a tickle in my feet that makes me want to be on the move. The curiosity of what is around the corner or over the hill pushes and prods until I finally accept the challenge and give in.

Whatever it is that makes a person feel the need to see more and experience more, is a mystery to me. Possibly there is a gene that skips some individuals and over-loads others. While I feel that itch to explore, others are not even tempted to look beyond their backyard. Perhaps there is a calm sense of peace they experience because of this lack of curiosity.

A curious soul is never at peace or rest. I have a need for variety and experiences I can't find in my backyard. A restless soul has an appetite which constantly needs to be satisfied.

I'm not the kind that wants to push the limits and pump the adrenalin to the max. It isn't the rush that makes me want to wander, but the desire to see more and experience more. My restless feet move at a moderate pace. I don't need to know what it feels like to be on top of every mountain and be its conqueror.
 Let me touch the sharp edges of the rock and absorb its energy and remind myself of the powers of nature that created the mountain.

My feet and soul will eventually find peace and satisfaction, reminding me it is time to return home for a while. I will be content, but soon that itch will return and a new journey will begin. I'll read a book, see a documentary, buy a travel magazine, hear about someone else's adventure or Nolan will say, "I think we need to get away." Instantly the ideas and plans begin to gel and off we go with our home on wheels behind us and I will think---isnt it great two curious souls with restless feet came together.

                         
                                         icebergs in Iceland. No
                                         home on wheels this time

a peaceful walk

                                      simple food and great atmosphere

Where is Your Voice

When do you use your voice? When do you speak up about an injustice you see or use your voice to stand up for someone or against someone? When do I use my voice? Is mine the first heard or the silent one waiting for a braver person to speak .

A voice is a valuable and powerful tool. It offers support and strength when used in the silence of ambivalence or condemnation. Can your voice speak loudly enough to be heard? No matter who else may hear your voice, your ears are tuned to hear the sound and vibrancy of the words you speak. They hear you using your voice to stand up for your values.

I want my voice heard when I witness a wrong or the shaming of an individual. I don't want to be the by stander pretending I don't see or hear.

Anxiety in the world is an everyday issue. It is easy to develop a false sense of security and safety by closing our eyes and pretending the unpleasant issues do not involve us. The road often chosen is the road toward insulation, lack of empathy and a road of silence.

Where is the voice that speaks out and touches people, offers hope, warmth and dignity. What happened to the voice that says 'this is not who I am or who we are as a people.'

I am only one woman among many. But where there is one there is more with a voice to be heard. I am not hesitant to say I believe in a god that teaches love, respect, and tenderness; a god that sees no color separation, hears hearts that beat in sequence
and sees tears that are shed when we are broken.

My voice may be timid and hesitant, but the more I use it the stronger it will become. Using our voice gives strength. The more a voice is used the louder it becomes. Where there was once hesitation and fear, muscle develops. I will walk a little taller knowing I used my voice and and was honest in my expression. If no one listens or hears it matters not. It matters only that I used my voice as it was meant to be used and just maybe some one heard.

Too Many Winters

I think perhaps I've experienced  too many winters. I say that not because I find my life ebbing way, but from the total saturation of experience. The beauty of the first winter snow storm is exciting and stimulating until I realize that its beauty is not fleeting. This white covering soon begins to blend with the sky and the world surrounding me becomes a never ending dome.

My snow shoes and cross country skis sit in a lonely corner of the garage. The thought crosses my mind of actually dragging one or the other out and taking a spin. The exercise would definitely be a positive approach toward better mental health. As soon as the sun shines and the temperature reaches the high 20's I just might consider a little excursion.

I remember past winters where I raced down the snow covered slopes on my downhill skis and felt the wind in my face and pine branches brushing my frozen cheeks. I remember hoping I could still feel my feet when it came time to slide off the chairlift and gritting my teeth in pain as the weight of my snow boot crushed the bone spur on the top of my foot.

Now those winter memories are just that---memories which I treasure and feel no compulsion to revisit. Perhaps it is time to pursue a change of climate where warmer memories can be created. The stoic cacti of Arizona are looking more graceful and inviting as each winter passes. Feeling the sun on my face and a warm breeze would be a welcome change. My rose colored glasses have become tarnished and scratched from years of winter use and I lack the energy to find a replacement. The solution to this problem is becoming clear. Leave! Just Leave! Allow winter to have her peaceful time blanketing everything in white and gray. I have paid my dues and moving on is the next step toward survival. Sorry Winter, but you have literally burned me out and sucked me dry. I apologize if you are offended by such a blunt statement. The truth can be painful, yet it must be said. You may drop all the beautiful snow flakes you desire, but I will not be here to appreciate them.