Brave New Day

I've moved my blog to Google! Now I can "monetize" it - post ads that might just make some revenue for me. I can also add a Paypal link, so folks who feel so inclined and motivated by great wit and charm can send me money, just because they want to.  I do plan to import my old blogs, but I'm not sure yet how that works. I'll let you know. So, all that being said, I have something more profound to share today.

My favorite biblical character is Elijah. The very concept of some nice old Jewish man wandering the earth captivated my imagination long ago. Last night Elijah came to me in a dream. For those who know me, it's not at all unusual for spiritual figures to reach out to me in that fashion. It is very meaningful to me that this time Elijah did so. I fell touched to the depths my soul.  He took me wandering and we saw many wonderful, exciting, fabulous things. I was awestruck as he showed me events that were on the verge of occurring in my life, places I would go, things I would do.

What has me wondering, though, is that in each and every place, I encountered absolutely filthy bathrooms. I'm not sure if it was required of me, or if I simply felt compelled, but I did gladly clean to sparkling, each of those bathrooms. Finally, Elijah took me on my last visit to some friends, Pat and Jim Walker. I am pleased to say that the Walker's bathroom was spotless! I was thrilled. Not that I minded cleaning all the others (this is a dream, please don't choke on your laughter), but I was so happy that my good friends did not suffer with a worldwide problem.

So, what on earth can this dream possibly mean?  I'm open to suggestions. The overall feeling was of wish fulfillment, great joy, laughter, hard work, and relief when the work was finished. Maybe that's just a view of my life to be. Let's hope so.

Cronedom

Age creeps up. It's sneaky. One day you're 13, the next 53. Or more. Still feel 13. Until a cold snap comes and suddenly every body part hurts. Walking upright is no longer taken for granted. Falling isn't improved simply because you still can get up again. One day, you won't be able. So, what does age have to do with beauty and laughter? Because, as with all of life, age is beautiful and funny. The lines on my face are memories. I want to outline them and fill them in with color. I'm not so much wise as I am experienced. Been there, done that is my new mantra. I want now to do the things I have not yet done - and they are fewer and further between. Is that the street sign of life well lived? Or just thoroughly lived? What is a life well lived?