Feeds:
Posts
Comments

“A great epiphany: I found out that I’m totally confused and I’m good with that. I’m consistently inconsistent. I’m all of the above. I’m OK. I’m a work in progress. That’s my next tattoo somewhere.” – Ronnie Dunn

Last night's sunset as seen from my balcony. Sometimes the thoughts that pop into my thoughts are as explosive as this. -- Photo by Pat Bean

Last night’s sunset as seen from my balcony. Sometimes the thoughts that pop into my thoughts feel as explosive as this. — Photo by Pat Bean

Epiphanies

I remember the day when I realized there were really two Pat Beans, one a responsible, stable, confident woman, and the other a rebellious mess who was afraid everything she did was wrong.

I also remember the day in which I put the two pieces together to form both a stronger and a weaker single Pat Bean.

Most of my epiphanies, however, are less dramatic, like the one I had this morning while reading about how we  evolved from lesser species. I suddenly realized that as high as we are on the food chain today, humans a million years into the future may consider us the same way we think about Neanderthals.

OK.  Perhaps this is a bit dramatic.

But then there are the daily epiphanies in my life, such as accepting that if I don’t do something right now, it probably won’t get done.

So go the continuous firecracker pops through my little gray cells. Sometimes it is fun – and sometimes it’s annoying.

Bean Pat: Doors http://tinyurl.com/k2kb8b6 This bit of nonsense captured my passion for oddities..

“A mother is a person who seeing there are only four pieces of pie for five people, promptly announces she never did care for pie.”  ~Tenneva Jordan

Mother became a Dr. Pepper woman in her later years. She had a beer at 10, 2 and 4 o'clock. This picture was taken a couple of years before she died when I took her on a family camping trip to Zion National Park. She sat around the campfire with us, but then I took her to a nearby motel to spend the night in comfort. I love you, Mom. -- Photo by Pat Bean

Mother became a Dr. Pepper woman in her later years. She had a beer at 10, 2 and 4 o’clock. This picture was taken a couple of years before she died when I took her on a family camping trip to Zion National Park. She sat around the campfire with us, but then I took her to a nearby motel to spend the night in comfort. I love you, Mom. — Photo by Pat Bean

My Mother

I’ve recently been thinking a lot about my mother. While I truly hated her growing up, she and I reconciled in my 30s — when I finally understood what a strong, courageous woman she was.

I was holding her hand when she took her last breath in my home, and am so thankful I had that precious moment.

The thoughts that flew through my head on this Easter morning was how important it was for her, when we were so very poor, that we kids all had new clothes for Easter. She, however, never had anything new.

She died in 1999, but I still miss her.

            Bean’s Pat: Interesting Literature http://tinyurl.com/orbw97w  The Devil’s Dictionary. This blog is a fun read for all those who love books.

 

Six-Word Story

            Perhaps our eyes need to be washed by our tears once in a while, so that we can see life with a clearer view again.”  — Alex Tam

There's something about the dawn of a new day that gives my glasses a rose-colored hue. -- Photo by Pat Bean

There’s something about the dawn of a new day that gives my glasses a rose-colored hue. — Photo by Pat Bean

Sometimes I Cry Myself to Sleep

I used to do just that. But not in a long, long time.  My life these days is just too damn good.

And before you know it, the world is filled with light once again. -- photo by Pat Bean

And before you know it, the world is filled with light once again. — photo by Pat Bean

Even back then, when a crisis, unmet desire or problems were almost routine in my life,  my days weren’t all that bad. But there were many nights, from my teens into my 40s, when I curled up in a fetal ball at the midnight hour and cried until I had filled a bucket with tears.

The funny thing was that after the tears were shed, my whole body felt wonderful. There’s a scientific explanation for this phenomenon. While I don’t quite understand it, I do know that the world always seemed more promising and my blessings more abundant after a midnight sob session.

While I’m certainly not sorry I have little to cry about these days, except perhaps the loss of a long-time friend, I kind of miss the tears. Perhaps that’s why I do enjoy a book or movie that touches my soul and turns on the waterworks.

But what’s best of all is writing that makes me both laugh and cry.

So what’s your six-word story?

Blog pick of the day. Check it out.

Blog pick of the day. Check it out.

Bean Pat: The day after:  http://tinyurl.com/l3e9e2f  This was the blog that got me thinking about my own tears. I love the brightness of her words about the morning sun making all things better. I totally agree.

A Disjointed Journey

  “The best thing about dreams is that fleeting moment when you are between asleep and awake, when you don’ t know the difference between reality and fantasy, when for just that one moment you feel with your entire soul that the dream is reality, and it really happened.” — Oprah Winfrey

Pepper, waiting for me to take her for a walk. Did she start or end my dream, I wonder? -- Photo by Pat Bean

Pepper, waiting for me to take her for a walk. Did she start or end my dream, I wonder? — Photo by Pat Bean

One Heck of a Dream

            My canine companion Pepper woke me at the break of dawn, at the end of one of my crazy dreams. Not yet ready to get up and take her for her morning walk, I replayed the dream in my head.

In it, I was attending a writing conference in Vancouver, Washington, with an old boyfriend. As the workshop ended, we met up with one of my ex son-in-laws. He didn’t have a vehicle so we invited him to ride with us. On the way home, we got lost in Virginia City (not sure if I was in Nevada or Montana)  because my old boyfriend couldn’t find the highway that would take us across Lake Michigan – yes I know, but it’s not uncommon for my dreams to be full of disjointed geography.

Some dreams fade into the background, while others stick out like this patch of color I find it all interesting. -- Photo by Pat Bean

Some dreams fade into the background, while others stick out like this patch of color I find it all interesting. — Photo by Pat Bean

I suggested that we find a place to spend the night and try again in the morning, then I remembered that I had left Pepper home alone. I would need to call a friend to take care of her. When I couldn’t reach the friend, I had a brilliant idea, just as we were passing a Best Buy. We went in, bought a GPS, plugged in my address, and were home before dark.

As if she knew I was thinking about her, this was the exact moment that the flesh and blood Pepper scooted up to my face and began licking it. Or did my dream start when Pepper started licking my face?

Let’s see. I do attend writing conferences, and I recently came across a photo of my old boyfriend, taken when he was swimming in an off the trail pool during one of our outings to Zion National Park; I saw the ex-son-in-law at my granddaughter’s house during my Christmas trip to Texas; I have a son who lives close to Lake Michigan; I’ve visited Vancouver and Virginia City in both states; and I got a a GPS for Christmas.

What’s strange is how I put all the parts together.

Blog pick of the day. Check it out.

Blog pick of the day. Check it out.

Bean Pat:  100 Beautiful Words http://tinyurl.com/ncdsjvo  I found the list of what one person thought were beautiful words fascinating. My choices, however, would be different. At the top of my list would be the words cacophony and oxymoron, perhaps not beautiful but certainly intriguing.

Belly-laughing

There’s nothing I like better than a good belly laugh, one that shakes my body from head to toe and almost makes me pee.

I was stopped at a red light and despite a fit of laughter, I managed to snap a photo of this bumper sticker through my front windshield. -- Photo by Pat Bean

I was stopped at a red light and despite a fit of laughter, I managed to snap a photo of this bumper sticker through my front windshield. — Photo by Pat Bean

Evidently I’m not alone.

  “At the height of laughter, the universe is flung into a kaleidoscope of new possibilities.”  Jean Houston

            “The most wasted of all days is that in which we have not laughed”  — Sébastien-Roch Nicolas

            “Laughter is an instant vacation.” – Milton Berle

            “What soap is to the body, laughter is to the soul.” — Yiddish Proverb

            “A good time to laugh is any time you can.” — Linda Ellerbee

            “Laughter is a tranquilizer with no side effects.” — Arnold Glasow

            “When people are laughing, they’re generally not killing each other.” — Alan Alda

            “The most wasted day of all is one without laughter.” – e.e. cummings

            “There is little success where there is little laughter.” – Andrew Carnegie

Bean Pat: dogdaz http://tinyurl.com/ncdcw2o As an animal lover, these photos made me almost pee.

“If you can dream it, you can do it. Remember this whole thing was started with a dream and a mouse.”  — Walt Disney

Just playing around with color. -- By Pat Bean

Just playing around with color. — By Pat Bean

A Mind-Boggling Journey

I’ve been house-sitting my daughter’s home and five pets (two dogs, two cats and a horse) this past week. It’s a large house with TVs in almost every room, including a large flat screen in a family room that my entire apartment would almost fit into.

My daughter's West Tucson backyard is full of cactus, but this sketch of saguaros was made from a view of the Catalina Mountains closer to  my East Tucson nest.

My daughter’s West Tucson backyard is full of cactus, but this sketch of saguaros was made from a view of the Catalina Mountains closer to my East Tucson nest.

It was a whole different environment from my own little nest, which has no TV. I decided to just go with the flow, especially after I discovered an NCIS marathon on the boob tube. After all, I was only going to be here for three days.

But then my daughter’s family decided to expand their spring break for a day because everyone was having so much fun. Then it got expanded for them for another day because Dad got vertigo and couldn’t travel for 24 hours.

When I got that news, I decided perhaps I should get my butt out of the comfortable recliner that sat in front of the TV and catch up on e-mail, my writing, do a little art, and post a blog. That’s when I discovered the dead mouse.

But it wasn’t an eek moment. It was a time for a visit to the computer store. Suddenly I felt the whole world had changed while I had my back turned doing something else. I had gone from a childhood, in which my geometry teacher told me man would never get to the moon – and relying on my cat to catch the mouse that had invaded my bedroom – to being annoyed that my access to the whole Web World was hindered because of a dead mouse.

I was awed just thinking about it.

Bean Pat: Birding in Cape Town http://tinyurl.com/nny3ucq A delightful armchair journey.

Blue, Yellow, Red

Another thing that travel writer Catherine Watson share is that we've both visited the Galapagos and were fascinated by the wildlife, like this tortoise I watched on Santa Cruz Island. == Photo by Pat Bean

Another thing that travel writer Catherine Watson and I share is that we’ve both visited the Galapagos and were fascinated by the wildlife, like this tortoise I watched on Santa Cruz Island. == Photo by Pat Bean

            “What is a fear of living? It’s being preeminently afraid of dying. It is not doing what you came here to do, out of timidity and spinelessness. The antidote is to take full responsibility for yourself – for the time you take up and the space you occupy. If you don’t know what you’re here to do, then just do some good.”—Maya Angelou

The Colors of Fear

            I just read the last chapter in Catherine Watson’s travel book, “Home on the Road.”  I understood the title perfectly as the road is where I, too, feel most at home. Catherine and I are both addicted wanderers. The travel bug bit her when she read the Tarzan books. It hit me when I read Osa Johnson’s “I Married Adventure.” Both of us at the time were still a few years away from being teenagers.  Both of us went on to become journalists – and. being of a similar age, both of us were taught as children how to hide beneath our school desks, cover our heads and close our eyes in case of a nuclear bomb attack by our arch-enemy, Russia.

And visited Ecuador, where I (I don't know where she stayed) stayed at this hotel in Guayaquil. -- Photo by Pat Bean

And we have both visited Ecuador, where I (I don’t know where Catherine  stayed) stayed at this hotel in Guayaquil. — Photo by Pat Bean

The last chapter in “Home on the Road” talks about those Cold War days, and how Catherine’s fears of being nuked negatively impacted her life. Looking back on my own life, I now wonder if that’s when I first begin sticking my head in the sand to block out bad stuff happening around me so I could pretend all was right with my world.

I suspect, having overcome our fears, is why Catherine and I can both fearlessly travel alone to unknown places, and why we’re not obsessively fearful of terrorist alerts, that after 9-11 varied in degree by designated  color – with blue being the lowest danger alert and red being the highest danger.

I can no longer stick my head in the sand and say the danger isn’t real, and even more dangerous than our Cold War fears. But I choose not to live my life in fear.

Catherine’s last story in her travel book related the fears she had as a child to what she was seeing when she took a 1979 Trans-Siberian Railroad trip across the then Soviet Union to get a “first-hand look at the country I’d spent my childhood being afraid of, The truth hit me hardest in Irkutsk…. Half the population was living in log cabins without indoor plumbing…. I watched old people wearing heavy clothes against the cold, carrying buckets and trudging slowly along dirt streets to get to the neighborhood water pipe, and suddenly I was flooded with anger.

“For this? ‘I thought,’ For this I gave up my childhood?”

She went on to say that this time around she refused to be afraid. I guess one time was enough for me, too. But I wonder what negative impacts young children today are suffering because our primary colors have become symbols of danger?

Blog pick of the day. Check it out.

Blog pick of the day. Check it out.

Bean Pat:  Bella Remy’s photos  http://tinyurl.com/n4rpcp2  Great photos of a pair of hoodies, also known as hooded mergansers. Looking at them makes up for the fact I was too slow to photograph the gila woodpecker that stood on my balcony rail this morning. Life is good.

Follow

Get every new post delivered to your Inbox.

Join 849 other followers