I remember Sunday afternoons running through the trees. The sound of fall leaves being crushed under my tennis shoes as I reached the big flat rock I knew so well. It was part of the mountain, but so barren and grand it looked out of place. I felt the sting of the brisk air as I ran up the side, slowing only to drop to my hands and knees as the slant of the rock reached towards the heavens. With the grand rock behind me, and my goal reached, I stood on the edge looking down. Not knowing how blessed I was to see the beauty of that untouched valley below me. The sun setting and my stomach growling, I turned back to look towards the house. Closing my eyes I could see the chili simmering as the game of trivial pursuit was being put away. I raced the sun running back down the mountain, Again, slowing on the huge rock as I looked like a crab climbing down. Reaching the house, I opened the mud-room door, the smell coming from the kitchen making my mouth water as I kicked off my shoes. The chili warm and spicy, mellowed by the honey dripping corn bread filled my rumbling stomach.. As I half listened to the stories being told, I let the voices turn into a calming white noise.. I was content, I was safe. Years have passed. The calm voices are long gone and the beauty has been touched by greed. But, I will always be blessed to have known, and now be able to, cherish the memories of our Valley Verde Sundays.
Start by making a step in the direction of change…Keep putting one foot in front of the other…It wont be long before you look back and realize it would be a change to go back…
Their path you are to follow looks clear…It looks easy…It is like walking on air…For miles you can see the open space in front…Nothing clouds the view…you can see everything ahead long before you have to adjust your step..You turn to look over your shoulder…You can see a reflection of the path in front of you…Everything is the same… You start to wonder if this is all there is on this well-worn road…
The Monarch touches your hand for a split second, pulling your eyes to follow..He dances around the bright blooming flower that grows on the side…The humming bird drinks her nectar…You wonder…Can no one else see that beauty…Why do you stay on this path…
You continue on, every step becoming like last….The Coyote plays hide in go seek, watching as you walk…The flicker of his ears allowing the sun to reflect the morning dew as it flies through crisp air…His dark eyes searching your soul, wondering if you have the fearless craving to seek out more than you understand…
A small break appears in the cactus and trees that surround you…Sitting on a rock…the Coyote stares…waiting with his knowledge for you to follow…You stumble and you fall…You cry out as the cactus are sharp and rocks do not bend…
You stand proud with bloody knees and scraped elbows pulling the quills out…Next to you are those who laughed when you followed the Coyote to your own path…You will heal…Your mind is quick…Your heart softens into kindness…Your eyes able to see beauty they cannot….
And you will follow…What is Yours…
Leaving them to continue on What is Theirs…Only following their own refection…
When your family acts if you do not exist it is extremely liberating. It is natural to want approval from them concerning everything you do. As a child you bring home the clay pot that looks like crap, but you do not know that, and your parents do not see it as that. They look at it with big eyes and smile at you. You watch their reaction and think you are the freaking Picasso of lopsided clay creations.
By the time you are an adult you know their looks of judgment. You know the tone they speak to each other in when they disapprove of your new clay pot. While a piece of it will always reflect how you were raised, once into adulthood the creation is your own experiences. You can see endless colors reflecting as the sun drifts off to sleep, waking the night with purple and pink. Your clay becomes soaked in bright and bold. You are once again the Picasso of your creation. However they cannot see it, their color blindness allowing only the black and white to exist.
I want to thank Precarious for nominating Spun for the Very Inspiring Blogging Award. I have enjoyed her blog immensely, so it is an honor to be one of her fifteen recommendations!
- Place the Award logo on your blog.
- Link back the person who thought you were Inspiring and deserving of this Award.
- State seven things about who you are
- Nominate fifteen bloggers who give you inspiration and link them.
- Notify the bloggers of their nominations and the Award’s rules.
Seven Things About Me…
- I love photography and writing.
- I dislike people who feel the need to knock others down in order to feel better about themselves.
- I love all animals and creatures, furry or not.
- I enjoy the finer things in life such as, clean underwear, toothpaste, and taking a shower with really good body wash.
- I love the Dallas Cowboys, even when they suck.
- I dislike people who are so wrapped up in creating misery for some that they are blind to the innocent ones they are crushing in the process.
- I love music…Enimen, Willie Nelson, Tupac Shakur, Eric Clapton, Stevie Nicks, Metallica, Pink Floyd, Bone-Thugs-N-Harmony, Jonny Cash, Eagles, D12, 50 Cent, Ozzy, Snoop Dog, Prince, Motley Crue, Waylon Jennings, Bon Jovi, Van Morrison.
.My Nominations for the Very Inspiring Blogger Award!
- SPUN8 Nominated For Very Inspiring Blogger Award (spun360.me)
The hotel in Fountain Hills went well past having bad customer service, they were completely disrespectful. I still cringe thinking about how she said “homeless”. However, it was the stigma attached to us after, which made me stop using that word.
We had contact with four people there, including the general manager, Bob. One of them was pleasant and felt horrible that we did not have a good experience with the front desk staff. She even asked if there was anything she could do. It is interesting that her name was not Bob. Up until then, we were starting to think everyone there was unfriendly and incompetent.
Fifteen years of management experience on the Las Vegas Strip taught my husband how a guest should be treated in a hotel. Two weeks of lessons from the street has taught me how a human being should be treated, period. It does not cost anything to smile at someone, or let them have a parking spot. It cost the manager of the McDonald’s we have come to love, nothing to make my son smile and say, “he is a really nice guy.” There was no free food and no special VIP treatment. We were on the receiving end of someone that wanted to know what they could do for us. He even thanked us for letting him serve us the chocolate shake we ordered.
- Scottsdale Spun 2013: The Begining… (spun8.wordpress.com)