Outside my window I see a host of trees. They each stand tall and strong, watching over my home like praetorian guards. Little animals scamper about while the deer graze on various plants created by mother earth for their consumption. Birds fly above and through the trees. A bluejay that has made this patch of woods its home stops at the same tree almost daily.
Everything around me seems to work harmoniously. Deer periodically make a run for it, as something they have reason to fear cracks twigs through the forest. Maybe it is the black bear I’d seen a year ago. It was a calm creature, at least so it seemed from a distance. I took its picture. It almost posed for the camera. As it walked nearer to my doorstep, I stepped back, further into my door. It stepped back, as though afraid that my sudden movement meant danger. I’m sure it knew it had nothing to fear, given that its weapon for defense was nature made and powerful. One swipe of its claw and I would have nearly deflated like a balloon.
The ecosystem that surrounds me never ceases to amaze me. It is a vast world, all housed on no more than three acres of land. Yet in that small space, I can see how alive the world is. It breathes and moves and changes and grows and learns and evolves.
There is nothing more beautiful that being alive…even as people attempt to thrust us into darkness….life is still beautiful. There is amazing potential in the universe. I hope we can all some day grab hold of that potential and allow ourselves to be lifted from the strange forces that relentlessly want to make this place a wasteland.
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I am a writer, or so I’d like to think. I enjoy sharing my thoughts, sharing stories, creating stories and anything that allows me to communicate an ideal I feel strongly about. Or simply communicate something others can relate to that is funny, quirky or touching.
Ahhh! The almighty story. Our entire history on this earth is filled with stories, and evidence of our desire to share those stories–from stones to papyrus. Even the changing sands were used to tell stories. Our stories ring even in the bones of our ancestors, who silently tell us of their trials and triumphs through their death.
Today, we have books that tell our stories–and authors who slave day and night to create those books. Whether through fact or fiction, it is all the same. Everything says something about who we are and what we feel. Our stories are endless. Even in the grimmest of horrors, or most fantastic of science fiction, a truth shines through that is even more real than those things created.
We need stories, just as we need air. It is what makes us feel alive, the comfort that those gone felt with the same passion we felt, and lived with the same vigor and determination that we live. I need my stories and the stories of others. What else is there?
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Norman Rockwell is a famous artist known by only a special group of people. We are the unique few who appreciate his down home images. Always funny, and mostly comprised of children, family and community situations, Norman Rockwell is in the ranks as one of the great artists of our time.
I would recommend that any art lover examine his works. He is suprisingly amusing and has a way of capturing history on the canvas. His paintings and general works are often displayed on calendars, mugs and as figurines, to name a few places.
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