My big mouth followed closely by my insatiable need to learn (they are not necessarily related nor are they exclusive of each other -- I often learn by shooting off my mouth that I should have kept it shut and sometimes learn that by being quiet I should have said something . . . anyway, again, I digress). Mostly, I wish that my brain would work faster than my mouth, that I would learn how to synthesize information quicker and assess situations faster, and that the words that flap so frequently from my tongue would actually resolve a problem or enlighten the world rather than confuse and irritate it more.

Next. I want to be the best at being next. I don't want to ever be first best at anything. I read mimi's post and I agree with her. Who the heck wants to be first? There's always somebody trying to beat you! I drive on the Washington D.C. beltway on occasion and believe me . . . it is better to be next . . . it is easier to stay alive. When I know I'm next, I am never in a hurry. I am never anxious. I'm NEXT. So, I want to be the best at  being NEXT. It is easier for me to be generous, to let others go ahead of me, because I can go next NEXT time. And no one can be better than me at being next because to do that they have to become FIRST . . .

First, I have the best boyfriend ever. He is really a great guy. And, second (totally unrelated), it is time to move on in my life . . . no, not from him. Mostly, in my life's work. My job. My employment. I keep bumping into antagonistic, hurtful, shallow people where I work and I don't know why I keep on that path. The only time banging my head against a wall feels better is when I stop. So, I need to stop. And I need to pursue employment/job/sustenance/making money/all that stuff . . .

Stay tuned.

It would be quiet, reflective, and it would be very easy to let go of all earthly concerns and worries and let them float off into space . . .

I am trying to honor this question and have pondered it all day, read everyone's posts, done some math (yes, actual equasions) in my head, and have The Answer: it depends on the season and what I want to do . . . and with whom. If it is summer in the morning and I want to write, I am on my deck surrounded by my flowering plants; if my granddaughter is visiting, we are on the open middle floor of my townhouse because she owns the middle floor of my townhouse (what is supposed to be the dining room between the living room and the kitchen is her playroom); if it is a dark early winter morning, I am in my basement office, writing huddled over my laptop. If I want to meditate or do yoga, I am in my meditation room (yes, I actually have one in my basement with windows open to the west, carpeted, filled with candles, pillows, and other flame-attractive materials -- it doubles as an exercise and extra TV room); I sleep in the usual place(s) -- heh heh -- . If it is evening and I want to relax, I am watching the Tennis Channel and typing away on my laptop or with my favorite guy (there really is only one) like I am now while he is reading and I am typing . . . I guess I could have done the short answer and said I spend the most time in the room where my home happens to be at the time . . .

all of you

How will I bring my presence to life today?

In Viktor Frankl's book, Man's Search for Meaning, he speaks about the question: what is life asking of us and how are we going to respond? My question instantly was: Who is going to respond? The book crystalized for me the realization that I had no idea who my true self, my true being, my true nature, my true presence really is -- so each day, I work to remind myself and ask: how am I -- who I truly am -- going to respond to this person, this situation, this emotion, this thought, this act, this idea, this weather, this life . . .

that we would care for, love, and protect all of our children . . .  

Ray Lynch "Celestial Soda Pop" from Deep Breakfast

The who (or whom) for me is a moving target . . . it is a matter of when; in my own self-righteousness, I know I need to show more compassion as soon as I begin to judge another . . .

Texas.

I was born there. Eventually, I will return and let the desert sand take my soul to eternity.

My word. My word creates my world and impacts the lives of others, and therefore, it is sacred. I guard it carefully, think it with caution, remembering that those who I love and care for rely upon it. If I think harshly of another, that person is impacted, but even more, I will have consequences. If I say "this is so or that is so or this will happen or I am this or that or will be this or that" then I need to take care and heed my own word because it will be. If I cannot make it so, I lose credibility, belief, faith, and reliability.  

well, I read everyone' s posts here today and I am taking the metaphysical path . . . we have the best free lunch available. It is called planet Earth and feeds us freely every day.

My step-daughter, Kristen. She was adopted at birth; her adoptive mother died when she was six; then her father married me when she was eight and then divorced me when she was fourteen. If anyone ever had an excuse to go haywire, it was her. But she didn't. She has been a big sister to my granddaughter (that's her and January in the picture). She was accepted to all five colleges she applied to. And she is just an absolute sweetheart. I adore her and when I grow up, I want to be just like her.

Poverty of any kind when I know there is enough of everything . . .

Um, my response has been to respect the earth's right to have who it wants to live here; the earth isn't really too concerned about the climate change . . . I have read a few of the posts here . . . Okay . . . I have read all of the posts here and the one that makes the most sense (so far) is sandi's. It is kind of like if you want an unwelcome house guest to leave what you do is you stop feeding him or her, stop giving him or her fresh water, stop giving him or her clean sheets, stop giving him or her a nice place to sleep, and eventually that unwanted house guest will get the message and leave. Long after we are gone, the earth will still be here . . . I hope I do well enough on this visit that I will get invited back.

Opportunity and just a tiny bit of chaos . . . long stories . . . short on results. I seem to keep repeating some kind of similar behavior/expectation pattern and, of course, I keep getting the same responses and results from others . . . which presents the opportunity to change my way of being, which does cause a bit of chaos, but will definitely change the response . . . which is scary in a semi-exciting sort of way . . .

I met you guys.

give a little, get a lot

I don't normally go searching for people; I really haven't lost any and heck, what if they don't want to be found? this past weekend I did go on a couple of shamanic journeys to search for power animals on behalf of myself and others; found a couple, too. It was a wonderful experience and gives all new meaning to the term "talk to the animals."

if eternity is an age, then yes . . . I act, believe, feel, respond, know, blah-blah-blah-whatever as if I am going to live forever and be accountable for everything I saydothinkfeel because I have always existed and will always exist (and so will you whether you believe it or not)

I don't know much about shifting but I sure seem to clutch a lot . . .

Bored is just another way of saying "I'd rather be doing something (anything) else." So, I go do it. (I am -- fortunately or unfortunately -- incredibly self-entertaining -- not hard to do, I am fairly simple minded, too.) My advice to anyone who says they are bored: "get over yourself."

Sleep. I am just not getting enough sleep, rest, and down time in my life . . .

A question like this . . . 82 responses (well, now 83!) THAT's power!

making life harder than it needs to be . . . yep. that's what I do. challenge this. challenge that. is there an easy way? great!. let me go do it the hard way! raise a child? I'll do it all by myself, thank you very much! going to college? I'll work full time, too. oy.

that we created all of this and we can change it any time we choose . . .

breezy with a chance of lollipops . . .

somewhere along the creative process, I inherited something called "vision" or the ability to see my circumstances along with the wisdom of what I could change and what I could not change . . . should I have held out for more?

A Museum of Meditations. I would like to be the curator, and I would need a constant supply of donators, and people could come in, create their meditations, leave them in song, lyrics, melodies, art, word, thought, drama, write, or some ethereal form of vision I have yet to create, and the visitors could come in, join the meditation, become the meditation, or just observe it; and, if it were really special to them, I would let them take the meditation with them, because there is an endless supply, each unique, each so very special, each a journey that will take anyone exactly where he or she needs to go.