There are moments when everything in  life becomes crystal clear. Quiet moments, moments of perfect connections; moments of peace and moments of exhilaration.

Not everyone connects with their soul in peace and quiet.  Not everyone can meditate, or go to church, or walk through the woods.

But we all find a way.

Sometimes we find our place in the cosmos reading a story to a child. Or cuddling and snuggling. Sometimes it’s found in sitting quietly and petting a purring cat. Some connect with their inner magic reading poetry or writing it.

I sometimes wonder why we don’t have that cosmic moment more often. Why it’s so hard to hold onto that feeling of total satisfaction, total acceptance, along with the positive anticipation of tomorrow’s dreams.

At this particular moment I am sitting with the computer on my lap, looking out the window at the morning sunshine, listening to a playlist called Book Club on Spotify. Everyone is still sleeping. The shadows created by the trees around the house play with the sunshine on the deck railings, reflecting the breeze that’s come out to play.

This particular moment is perfect. I know and accept who I am. I’m not competing with anyone else for attention, affection, or acknowledgement. The music takes me to dreams beyond the distant clouds, showing me unlimited possibilities.

But I know this moment of clarity won’t last.

Soon everyone will wake and the bubble will pop. Things like laundry and football games and fetching the dog and paying bills will take over my Sunday, pushing me in other directions.

I will miss this moment of clarity.

Perhaps it’s better we get moments like this only now and then. Perhaps if we lived in perfect acceptance and understanding there would be no growth. No more ah-ha moments.

No more cuddling moments.

Find your moments and let them connect to your deepest self. Know that more moments will come, often when you least expect it. Learn to acknowledge them, to grow with them, and to love them. Then learn to let them go.

That’s what being human is all about.

Colorful Language

adjectivesTell me what you think when you read this sentence.

I stubbed my toe today.

What is my tone? What am I saying? Am I crying (I stubbed my toe and it hurts like hell)? Am I laughing (I stubbed my big fat stupid toe today)? Am I rolling my eyes in mock disgust (I — yes, I — stubbed my toe today)? Am i kidding you (I “stubbed” my toe today)?

What is your instant reaction to that two-dimensional statement? Laughter? Sympathy? Lack of patience at such a clumsy move?

Reading another’s writing is a wonderful experience. With one or two strokes on the keyboard you can find out about someone’s day, love life, depressions, and funny escapades. One-on-one or reading a book, words can open doors to worlds only once dreampt of.

But basic, simple sentences are often prime grounds for speculation. Without adjectives or adverbs, a sentence is open to interpretation. Depending upon your mood at the time, you could laugh or get bitchy or get depressed by what you read. Reporters do their best to stay unbiased, but if they have indigestion or are being threatened by a bill collector, their “tint” might be more or less shaded. It’s not bad journalism — it’s just the nature of the beast.

I have often texted or emailed someone, only to get a response that upset me one way or another. I don’t think first — I just assume. Yes, yes, I know what happens when you ass-u-me…but it’s more a knee-jerk reaction. Only with more conversation does the dust in my head clear and I see what’s really going on. When my friend texts “I can’t make it tonight,” all it should mean to me is “I can’t make it tonight.” Not “I can’t make it because you make me sick” or “I can’t make it because my dog died” or “I can’t make it because I have to study for my finals tomorrow.” All it meant was, she couldn’t make it tonight.

It’s the same for writing things for others to read. If I write “I stubbed my toe today,” most of the time it just means “I stubbed my toe today.” But if I’m trying to be funny, “I stubbed my toe today” doesn’t reflect much humor. If I’m angry about the rock on the side of driveway that got in the way of my toe, “I stubbed my toe today” doesn’t translate that, either. If I’m embarassed about my own stupidity of kicking that rock on the side of the driveway with my toe, that doesn’t translate, either.

I suppose what I’m saying is that God gave us creative words for a reason. They are supposed to take the place of facial expression when we can’t talk face-to-face with others. Looking into each other’s eyes, watching body language, hearing the inflection of your voice, all clarify simple statements. Even lies.

But writing just for the sake of writing can be a one-sided world, too. You need to throw some emotion into your statements. Some color. Some emphasis. That’s the only way we, the readers, can know where you’re coming from.

Don’t let us wondering what you’re thinking. Or what we’re supposed to be thinking. If you want to make us laugh, use your words. If you want tears to come to our eyes, use your words. If you want us to feel depression or elation, use your words.  Let the reader feel what you want them to feel. Like…

I stubbed my %@^?>$ toe today!!!