A Time to Speak

Dear dear readers,
..........................if indeed there are any these days....not that it matters...hmm....a female needs not many reasons to open her mouth and allow verbs and nouns and figures of speech flow from it now does she?.....

As is obvious, no news or any sort of word has appeared here for some months.  As stated simply below, I was learning the time not to speak for a very specific purpose.  What purpose?  So that when the time to speak comes back around with delightful opportunity to use my ever tireless tongue (or typing abilities?), perhaps I may have grown and learned a few notches of wisdom in the process.

So did I become surprised to find out that regular nominal life starts out interesting and eventually turns into regular and routine for any one claiming to be human?

Absolutely not.

The reasons for which, I would deeply long to express in great detail in all grandeur and fancy verbs, get into the heart of the emotional mine fields, take you through the heights and valleys of it all, to highlight the radical encounters with strange people who drift among the crowds, and continue in such fashion until I'm sure I would have no longer have any more friends....or acquaintances.

Why?

Because I've learned, there is simply....a time not to speak.  And that's not why I feel like writing today anyways.

Follow?

Whatever, I think blogs are just a place for people to rant about their lives while adding colorful words to make themselves feel like their lives have an 'extra air' of purpose without other people interrupting their trains of thought.

And hey, if anyone gets some slightly more engaging entertainment than simply clicking through other peoples Facebook pictures, then I say, good.  Much better way to employ the brain waves anyhow.

So what got me thinking today is this:

My husband.  The only human who ever showed me the delight of living in present life.  That lesson has spilled graciously into my even more dramatic love life with God which has spilled through me and onto this little plot of land in the Upper Peninsula. 

So while we were out trekking through the winter wonderland day...and possibly trespassing through private peoples territories...I followed this man on no path.  And the obvious hiking opportunities followed...pushing dead trees over, zipping off boulders, whatever.. you get it..

The silence (it's always the silence) between our separate perspectives of exploration got my gears turning...plus the rare 3.5 cups of "the-drug-coffee" whirring in my pulses...

I began to get really, really, really happy.  Satisfaction of using the breakfast food for energy surpluses to climb (rather then get sleepy and zombie like with the TV set) and descend peaks is one thing. However, simply just being in the presence of a man in an element where he's free to be absolutely wild is another thing.  I wondered to myself, why do women feel the need to either be like men or make men like women?  Certainly we can learn to love to explore with them and fill our lungs in the crisp winter air finding equal satisfaction.  But to tell boys to behave, not break things, to clean up their messes better, to cook more, to talk more, to dress up better...is a terrifying way to destroy the spirit of a man.

Only in the context of freedom will men (and people!) decide to behave, repair and be oh so aware of the things that are on your heart to share.  Simple.

So as I sit with an ice pack on my bruised knee and a 'Fat Tire' beer at my right, I say more to myself than anybody, enjoy people for who they are.  And parts of you might just rub off on each other.

Here's a Cheer for Bruises and Beer,
Meg

PS.  Ironically enough, Corey is currently in the kitchen tearing through (gently) a dish washing session, to my great gratitude.

PS#2.  Got out my orange goggles again today, helps me to get back in the mode, I'll be back around more often than not.  Peace, grace and blessings ;)