Fainting Goats and Senior Citizens

I'm not sure if it's a blogoshere faux pas to repost an old blog but I'm going to do it anyway.  I wrote this two years ago and it captures what I was feeling today.  I am in the decision making process and couldn't find other words to describe how I feel....

So my sister wants a fainting goat. When scared, the muscles of these goats get stiff, causing them to stop dead in their tracks and fall over. It's actually quite amusing to watch and they provide for some quality entertainment. They fall over and lay belly up, paralyzed with fear. Sometimes they don't fall over and they just get stiff legs and then try to run away. Some, over time, even learn to lean against things so that they don't fall over.  

The other night I went along with my family to a dinner with my grandparents and a few members of my extended family. It's a yearly thing, I think, and I felt kinda awkward because the majority of them were in their 70's or 80's, with the exception of my family. Whenever I'm around older people like that I always get kinda sad. I mean, not all the time, just sometimes. I always begin to think about how life goes by in the blink of an eye and how I like being young and how I'm not looking forward to the days of fuzzy slippers, dentures and aches and pains. In reality, I guess being old wont be that bad, it's just that much closer to heaven. Maybe I get sad because I'm just scared that life will be over before I know it. That I'll be eighty and full of regrets, with the grave eagerly awaiting my presence.  But as I think about myself at that age, I always wonder what my stories will be. Did I live life to the fullest?  Did I learn to love and be loved?  Did I see justice spring root, or redemption come near?

As I sat there silently listening to these older folks reciting memories from their journeys, I began to think about those goats. About how fear paralyzes them and keeps them from moving. A lot of my life, as I look back on it, has been lived in fear. Fear of risk, of failure, and even of success. And I concluded right then and there that I did not want to live life belly up and feet in the air. Or even run through it stiff legged. I do not want fear to dictate the paths that I take. Nor do I want to let life pass me by and not have any stories to tell.  When I'm eighty and sitting around a table with friends and family, pulling memories from old shelves in my mind, I want to be able tell stories of adventure, hope, and transformation.  Of redemption and justice.  Not stories of a life lived in fear.

 

What will your story be?

Another Day, Another Dollar

Today was  a good day.

For the second day in a row I followed a witch to work.  An apparent witch I should day. Maybe I shouldn't assume, but with "protected by witchcraft" bumper stickers and the like on the back of her vehicle, then maybe its safe to assume. It was weird because of the location of my job.  It's kind of off the beaten path and not really around much, so it was strange that I followed her for 15 minutes to the same exact location.  Anyway, I couldn't help but wonder about how the heck witchcraft could protect her.  Does she know who she serves?

I got a raise today at work.  I've been anticipating it for a while, so it was a relief when I laid eyes on my paycheck.  My feet felt a little lighter for the rest of the day.  It wasn't as much as I had been hoping for, but I am thankful all the same.  Every little bit counts.

There are many songs in my life that stir up feelings of nostalgia and "Don't stop believing" is one of them.  It came on the radio about halfway through the day and my mind was in another world.  A few years ago, I spent the weekend in Philadelphia with a couple of friends.  After dinner and wondering through the art galleries, we found our way into The Plough and The Stars, an Irish pub, located in old city Philadelphia.  It was cold and rainy out so we got a little table near the fireplace and started playing some cards.  People kept looking at us strange as if to remind us we were in a bar.  I guess most people don't play cards in a bar, they drink.  Drown out their worries and live the good life.  As the night went on, this place got packed.  It was hard to walk and people were crowded all around each other, shoulder to shoulder, as many bars are on a friday night.  But we were still there, nestled at our little table, our own little pocket of peace.  The Dj that they had was playing good music, but I'll never forget when he played that Journey song.  The whole bar stopped their conversations and began to sing along.  It was a thunderous sound, with hundreds of people singing their hearts out.  We couldn't help but sing along.  I got shivers because it was such an epic moment of unity. In a bar.  Every time I hear that song, I am in that bar, singin along.

This evening I went to dinner with some dear friends of mine.  We tasted of some find mexican food and conversed about money and dreams.  We talked about how money doesn't make us happy and how we don't want to spend our lives living for money,  so that we can die rich.  It's not worth it.  Life is too short, my friends.  Too short to spend it on worthless things that are fading away.

Yep, today was a good day.