Here we are back, Grandson, Joyce, Beach, California. No white horses, but that's where we started so we will stick with it. However, now it is time to do something other than wish. It's time for action. When you've reached a plateau, jack it up to the next level. Here we're jacking it up.
Celebrate! Party hardy. Now whatever you want to do, go and do it.
"What would you name your dog?" Eight-year-old grandson called to us from the car's back seat.
"I'd name mine Naked," he said, "that way when we had a party I could say, "I'm going outside to get Naked."
An hour and a half later I stood inches from a glass wall watching silver fish doing an endless Ester Williams pretend.
Fish by the thousands swished past the window, swimming in unison, circling their enormous tank. A shark swam into the mass of fingerlings--no problem—they glided aside, then elegant as silk, flowed back into formation.
Another shark swam through a hole the fish had created. They closed the gap with the same precision. A dimensional tunnel came next.
I was mesmerized.
They had it right in the movie, "Finding Dory." Schools of fish could probably spell.
We were visiting the Oregon Aquarium in Newport Beach Oregon. A must see if you are ever in Oregon. It is exquisite, the best I have ever seen, and I have visited a few.
All the aquatic animals at the Aquarium were vibrant and healthy. corals were abundant, anemones large as dinner plates, starfishes with "eyes" on the tips of their "arms"—I didn't know that—water clear as glass and cold as ice.
See, we were traveling.
Now we're back home.
It's been a busy two months. With Christmas behind us, New's Year's day, done, five family birthdays in January and February, done, new house moved into, its gray bathroom, gone, transformed into mango and lime green, the dark green dining room and gray living room doused in cream-colored paint.
Daughter painted the fireplace white; I painted walls and myself.
My little Fixer Upper:
Bath Room before:
Bath Room after:
The house isn't sad anymore.
But I have noticed that a lot of people are…
Why is that?
They don't know how awesome they are. See, like my grandson, I answer my own question.
About twenty years ago when I first heard of the Tony Robbins firewalk, I said, “When someone offers a seminar on walking on water I’ll take it. I am not walking on fire.”
And then, in November I faced the burning coals, and said, “I’m doing this even if it burns my feet off.”
When the seminar assistant said, “Step on the grass—a strip of grass just before the coals--I stepped on the grass and looked at a glowing strip of red-hot embers before me. Without hesitation, I gave my chest a thump and stepped out.
It was as easy as walking on popcorn.
As it is with most fears, the hard part is worrying about doing it. It is taking that first step, wondering if you will make it, shall I face my fear or retreat into my comfort zone?
And then you do it, and say, “Hey, that wasn’t so bad. That was easy.”
You are jubilant.
With the firewalk, you are greeted on the other side by welcoming arms and congratulations, and the ones who have completed their walk are happy as a bunch of otters on a creek bank, laughing, hugging each other and greeting the walkers.
I saw a boy, about twelve years old, and asked, “Did you walk on the fire?”
The idea of the firewalk is to teach that you can change your state of conscious in an instant. You are afraid, you do it, and in the process, you change your physical state, your emotional state, and your belief system.
Isn’t that the way it is with most unknown scary events? When a challenge presents itself, you wonder if you are up to the task. Shall I take the first step? Shall I begin that business? What if I fail?
The cat is eyeing my desk from his perch, and about to make the leap.
Here I am using, for the first time, a little desk built into the laundry room of our new home. If the cat decides to recline in sublime comfort on it as he did on my previous desk—now in the garage--we would feel the constricted space similar to 16 people in a phone booth.
After sleeping about 12 hours night before last, I awakened this morning at 4 a.m. So, here we are, or here I am, in the early morning quiet visiting with you.
Prop your feet up, have some coffee, soon we will get dirt between our toes as we travel-thru-life.
Right now, for me, my title, Traveling-thru-life, is more like Staggering-thru-life. Not that I am inebriated, but with cleaning the other house, moving, and painting this one—I am in a state of emotional inebriation. I have to aim carefully to walk through a doorway.