Purr-dy Sunday and a Mean Ol' Cat

Oh what a glorious Sunday it was.  Until the cat that is!  Three days ago, our fine city had 8-20" of snow dumped on it, depending on which part of the city you live in and. . . more importantly. . . who you ask.  Yes, yes, there are some fine Kansas Citians who tend to stretch the truth a wee bit especially when we get a big snow storm.  They mean no harm - they just like tall tales!  I think we had about 8" at our house, but really who's counting?  Anyhoo, the snow plows did their jobs, the sun came out and the high today was right about 40 degrees.  After three long days of being cooped up indoors, it was the perfect day for an outing.  Or so I thought.

The husband and I hopped in the truck long about 11:30 a.m. and headed toward Weston, Missouri.  We stopped by the state park for a photo shoot.  Wanna see?  Ok, here are just a few. . .

After tromping around in the snow and nature for an hour or so, we drove into the quaint lil town of Weston.  Weston is about 30 minutes northwest of Kansas City for those who may not know.  It's "small town," but close enough to the city that this city girl never feels completely disconnected when there.  Weston's downtown area is lined with a handful of speciality shops selling everything from vintage cameras and photographs to current day cowboy stuff and everything in between.  It's mostly a tourist trap, but it's the sort of place where children can still play safely outside and dogs and cats can, and do, roam up and down Main Street as if they own the joint.  Here are a few photos to give you the feel of the place. . .

So the Quinns snooped around every store that was open, which amounted to about half.  Small town. . .old school. . . several proprietors still believe in resting on the sabbath apparently.  We snooped for about an hour or so and congratulated ourselves for not caving in and buying a bunch of crap (or treasures depending on how you look at it) on impulse.  Just as we were walking back to the truck to leave, a healthy looking gray cat with tags (as in. . . someone owns me, I have family, I am loved) walked up to my husband and asked to be petted.  Yes!  The cat asked my husband to pet him (in the way cats do. . . "meow" "meow", nudge, nudge, let me rub my body against your leg in a loving but, "hey pay attention to me right now!," sort of way).  Didn't take long for Mr. Quinn to hear the kitty and comply.  That's because Mr. Quinn is an animal lover, which means he is always in sync with nature.   Dogs, cats, horses, snakes (ick!). . . he loves them all.  As Mr. Quinn pet the cat, I walked on up ahead about two store lengths or so.  And when my husband stopped petting the cat and quickened his pace to catch up to me, do you know what that cat did?  Are you ready for this?  That cat sprinted ahead of my husband to where I was and bit my pant leg!  Can you say jealous?  The cat!  Not me!!!  The cat was mad because my husband stopped stroking it and headed in my direction.  I guess the cat saw me as competition for my husband's love and affection.  Guess what, cat?  I won!

I almost stopped to take a picture of the cat when we first walked upon him, but I didn't because I was tired from all that tromping around in the snow we did earlier in the day.  And, more importantly, because my 52 year old bladder, which now resides down around my knees somewhere, was more than ready to be home!  Where we have bathrooms.  Three to be exact.  Now I wished I had.  Taken the picture that is.  And I really wished my husband had been carrying the camera when the cat attacked me.  You know. . . for proof and all!    Well that, and a photo would have made a nice (funny) addition to the blog.

So that was my Sunday.  Went to Weston to take some pictures and maybe get an interview with a passerby.  Instead, I got some pictures, puncture wounds in my right calf and PTSD (post traumatic stress syndrome), which will likely require years of therapy!

From the porch, happy Sunday all.  Hope you enjoyed your time here and got a laugh or two.

                                                                                 ~Quinn 

Snow Days, Mary's Little Lamb and the Soul

In case you missed it, Kansas City had a little snow storm yesterday.  February 21, 2013 mother nature brought parts of our city 14" of snow.  14 inches in about 10 hours.  In case you live in southern California or Florida or Hawaii or some other part of the country that never sees snow, that is one hell of a lot of snow!  Maybe mother nature felt she had some making up to do since we haven't had more than an inch or two all winter long.  For whatever reason, she laid it on fast and furious yesterday!

And . . . this city was not prepared!  Schools closed.  Churches closed.  Businesses closed.  Government offices closed.  Trash was not picked up.  Mail was not delivered.  City buses were stranded all over town - some containing passengers whose patience was tested as they sat on the bus for up to 12 hours waiting for rescue crews to arrive.

I'm thankful that my office closed.  I didn't have to figure out how to maneuver the traffic jams.  Or wait for a good samaritan to push me if I got stuck or found myself in a ditch.  Thank goodness.  I drive well or well enough, but where snow and ice are concerned. . . I trust no one. . . including myself.

So I spent my "snow day" playing.  Mostly on the internet.  I did, however, manage to get outside for a minute to take a few pictures.

Here we have my feet. Buried in about 8 inches of snow!  I don't have boots.  Can you believe that?  I live in the Midwest where snow is not uncommon, but I don't own boots?  What am I thinking?  I own about 10 pairs of tennis shoes . . . though I don't play tennis or engage in any other physical type sport.  But no boots!  I really need to move.

To a place with lots of these!

Year round would be nice.

But then. . . I wouldn't get. . . TWO snow days.  In a row!  Yes, you read that right.  Our office closed again today, because much of the city is still buried under a foot of snow.  I guess there are perks (some) to living in a place that dumps a foot of snow on the ground just as spring is trying to burst onto the scene with all her new life, vibrant colors and warmth.

Did I mention that I spent my snow days surfing the internet?  I did?  Good.  In truth, I spent most of my time internet surfing.  Wasteful as that sounds, some good came from it.  Quite by accident, I ended up on the PETA website.  Disturbing is the word that most comes to mind when I think about all that I saw there.  By design I suppose.  The pictures and videos and information found there are overly graphic.  Again, by design.  I believe the point of the website is to nauseate folks like me to the point of change.  Always, I am disturbed when I see or hear about an animal being mistreated. It evokes strong emotion in me . . . like hate.  Hate is never a good feeling.  The knowing that animals are mistreated. . . well, that disturbs my soul in a very profound way.  So I'm sitting here trying hard not to hate while at the same time feeling a disturbance in my soul.  All because I saw these helpless little animals on PETA's website being tortured and mangled and violently killed in ways you can't even imagine.  I couldn't imagine.  Until I saw what I saw. 

So what does one do when one's soul is disturbed?  Shift?  Move?  Change?  All of that!  After PETA, I google searched vegetarianism.  Already I felt better.  Getting proactive . . . I felt my soul start to settle.  A sign that I was moving in the right direction.  As simple as it sounds to just not eat meat, it's not.  Figuring out how to get protein without meat.  Figuring out how to get those 8 essential amino acids the body can't produce on its own.  Knowing what's really in stuff.  Stuff that's canned or boxed or bottled or jarred.  One never knows where critter or critter by-products might turn up.  Gotta check them ingredient labels carefully.  Finding a variety of foods to eat without getting bored?  What to tell friends and family?  How to prepare for special outings where meat will certainly be the prevalent dish?  So much to consider.  So much to plan for.  But I have to do it.  My soul is screaming at me to take action to help. . . to do my part. . . to help protect. . . 

this mama and her baby

and. . .

this precious creature. . .

or these lil ones. . .

or these sweet innocents

Farmers are prevalent in my family.  Eating meat is what we do!  I can see them now - all shaking their heads at me for even considering the idea of becoming vegetarian or vegan.  Never before did I think I would go meatless.  Never before did I have any real desire.

But!  Never before did I have two snow days. . . back to back. . . with unlimited internet access to explore things never before explored.  Like PETA.    And never before has my soul been so very disturbed.  Now that it is?  Change is a must.

Change is good.   Nature is chuck full of it!  Think seasons, rivers, the weather.  You get the idea, right?  Anyway, since we are part of nature, change must be good for us too.  So I'm doing it.  I'm changing.  Nothing huge. . . yet.  Just small things like. . .  meditating.  I'm trying very hard to be "mindful" and to "live in the moment."  I have to confess, the more I do, the easier it gets.  Good thing too!  I tend to quit hard things.  And I don't want to quit.  Also, I'm doing some yoga.  Not very well I'm afraid, but I am trying.  I'm reading books and blogs that are educational and uplifting.  I'm learning, or trying to learn, to create art through the lens of a camera.  I'm blogging, which I have found to be therapeutic and cathartic.  Who doesn't need a good dose of those things from time to time, right?  And now. . .as of today. . . I'm changing my diet.  No more Bessie or Wilbur or Chicken Little or Mary's Little Lamb for this girl.

Sorry this entry is a bit "off" the blog's intended purpose.  I haven't received any new interview responses from friends/family recently and I haven't actively sought any with strangers on the street since Steve Miller.   Truly, I am sorry about that.  Just as soon as the weather improves, I will make it a point to walk up to strangers and ask them to tell me their story so I can come home and share with you.  Today I just wanted to write.  More than anything, I wrote to help me stay the course.  And if by chance I got any of you to thinking, well. . . all the better!  Remember, snow days are good and change. . . it's even better!  With much, much love. . . 

                                                                                                 ~Quinn

God and Buddha walk into a temple. . .

Yesterday I went to the Temple Buddhist Center with a friend who was curious about the teachings, beliefs and practices of Buddhists.  I had been to the temple a few times before and when my friend mentioned that she'd like to go, I jumped at the opportunity.  It had been awhile.  I've been full of stress.  From memory, I knew the temple was just the place to let go, get centered and feel better.  It worked.  As I sat in quiet meditation, I could feel the stress leave my body.

Afterwards, we sat on a bench and chatted about all sorts of things.  One subject that came up was whether my friend felt any guilt about attending the Buddhist Temple.  She was brought up in the Catholic Church and I was more than curious about any guilt this venture of ours might have caused her.  I'm not certain that something as simple as attending a Buddhist Temple rises to the level of "venture", but when one is raised to believe one thing and then starts dabbling in another. . . well it certainly could.  So it was our venture.  And I was curious about any guilt she might have felt.  "Some," she said.  "I'm not really as devout as my husband's family, so my guilt is probably more about what they would think about me doing this then anything else," she continued.  And. . . then. . . she. . . said. . . the . . . most. . . awesome. . . thing!  "But it's my life and I have to start living for myself."  Love, love, love that!

As we parted ways, I started thinking about my own background.  My family had faith.  We believed in God.  You know, the supreme being that lives up in the sky or heavens somewhere?  You can't see Him.  But you know He's there, because the preacher said so.  Yeah, that guy.  I remember well the Baptist church I attended as a child.  Yuk!  What I got - really all I got - from attending church during those formative years was   a.  I was bad, bad, bad and b. I was going straight to hell if I didn't change my evil ways.  That's a whole lotta fire and brimstone for a four year old.  Is there any wonder I completely checked out at the earliest opportunity?

But then on my drive home, I thought about this gentle soul.  Had he been Buddhist I wondered?

And this caring, compassionate, loving, giving, kind and above all, selfless, soul.  Had she been Buddhist?

And what about him?  The Muslim - Islam - Prophet Muhammad?  Could he have been Buddhist?

Was Gandhi Buddhist?  Hinduism. . . Buddhism. . . there is a difference. . . I looked it up cause I wasn't so sure.  

Could Moses have been Buddhist before Buddhism was?  I think Moses lived first, right?  Before Buddha?  Either way, I think Moses could have been Buddhist.

How could I even contemplate such a thing as Jesus, Mother Teresa, Muhammad, Gandhi and Moses being Buddhist?  Probably because I'm a novice and know so very little about Buddhism.  Even though I know just enough to make a complete fool of myself, I'm going out on a limb here and saying that I think it's entirely possible.  Probable even.

Buddhism as a philosophy allows for the possibility that all people can accept as true any religion they like while at the same time being Buddhist.  The Buddha was awakened.  He believed, as do I, that everyone has the potential to be awakened.  That is to say that everyone has the potential to live fully present in the moment.  Through mindfulness, meditation and visualization, we can end suffering and be happy.  Abundantly happy one moment at a time.  God is different things to different people and for some, doesn't exist at all.  Regardless of one's religious beliefs, we can all awaken and live a life of happiness.  The God in which I believe wants that for all people.  And so do I.

If you are stressed today, take a minute or two for yourself.  Close your eyes, take a few deep breaths, clear your mind and be the Buddha.

What are your thoughts?  Can religion be mixed with a Buddhist philosophy?  Should it be?

Thanks for stopping by the porch today.  Whoever you are, wherever you are, whatever you do, I wish you happiness.


                                               ~Quinn

P.S.  I'm sure this is obvious, but just in case. . . the photos are not mine.  They all came from the internet.  I didn't give proper credit, because artist's names were not available.  










 

A Mother's Love. . . you just gotta read this one!

Do you know what's really great about Facebook?  I mean really, really great?  Finding folks you haven't seen or talked to in like forever.  As fast as you can type a person's name in the search engine and hit "enter", you can find them and reconnect.  And because you are reconnecting via a machine, there's never any awkwardness to it.  You can just pick right back up where you left off.

That's just what happened with me and my friend, Claire.

Claire was someone I knew briefly when I lived in St. Louis back in the 1800's.

You caught that, right?

Ok, not the 1800's.  More like 1985 something or other.   I can't remember the exact year of our first meeting partly because I'm older now and memory is one of the first things to go (so I've heard), and partly because we were young and idealistic and experimental and we didn't really pay attention to things like time and calendars.  Fearless.  That's what we were.  Young and fearless and immortal or so we thought.

Anyway, I knew Claire for about a minute (remember, I wasn't paying attention to time - so a minute could have been a week, a month, a year, or two).  And then I moved from St. Louis to Kansas City. 

And that was it.  I didn't see Claire or talk to Claire or snail mail Claire (stop laughing, this was back when! back when we didn't have e-mail and cell phones and text messaging).  I really lost track.  I didn't know anything like where she was, what she was doing, how she was doing.  I didn't know. . . whatever happened to Claire.  Until about a year ago.  Facebook!  That's what happened.  I was sitting around one day trying to remember people I knew "back when". . . back when I didn't pay attention to things like time.  Then suddenly - bam - out of nowhere - her name popped into my mind.

Before I sent my friend request, I sat at my desk, closed my eyes, and tried to remember all that I could about Claire.  FUN, FUN, FUN!  That's what came to mind first.  She was this wonderful, wild, life-of-the-party woman who loved fun.  If fun wasn't around, she just created some of her own.  And I loved that about her.  The other thing I remembered most about Claire?  Her hair!  Oh my, how do I describe Claire's hair?  Long?  Curly?  Wavy?  Naturally, beautifully red?  No, sorry, that just doesn't do it justice.  Of course her hair was all that, but it was sooooo much more.  Claire was one of these women who had this hair that really required her to grow into it.  She didn't rule her hair. . .it ruled her!  Had a life all its own it did.  And I loved!!!!! it.  Still do.  It's part of what makes Claire, Claire.  Makes her unique somehow.  Oh, and did I mention that Claire was a deadhead?  I didn't?  Oh, goodness, my bad.  Yes, as I recalled it, Claire was THE deadhead!  She knew every lyric to every song the Grateful Dead ever wrote, sang, recorded, preformed or produced.  She would hop a bus and travel 1500 miles just to see them perform and then hop back on the bus and return to St. Louis so she could be at work on Monday morning.

I suppose what I remembered the very most about Claire on that day I took my lil trip down memory lane was just how spirited and full of life she was.  Definitely someone I wanted in my life.  So I did it.  I hit "send friend request."

And she accepted!

I had like a billion questions for her.  Where do you live, are you married, do you have children, where do you work, do you stay in touch with so and so, what do you do for fun, what are your hobbies, how do you do this and how do you do that and on and on it went.  What I quickly discovered was that Claire was far more settled then I ever envisioned her being.  Many, many things had changed.  Claire had grown up like we all had.  But!  She hadn't lost her passion for life - for living.  She still had heart.  Lots and lots of heart.

I told Claire about my blog one day, and I asked if she would be willing to be part of it.  She accepted.  I was elated!  Why?  Well, because, the question I most wanted to ask was - or seemed to be - just too weird to ask my very "all grown up and settled" friend.  Keep in mind, the Claire of my memory was this larger-than-life, life-of-the-party, no worries, hop on a bus - travel 3000 miles for a concert - "don't worry, be happy" Claire.  And now?  She was all married and settled and living this lovely, peaceful, mature life down in the great state of Texas. 

I feared my question would seem inappropriate somehow.  Something I didn't want.  But. . . when she agreed to be part of the blog. . .well, I knew then that I'd get to ask my question after all.  And that?  Made me happy.  Elated even.

So what was the question I was dying to ask Claire?  Drum roll please. . . 

"How do you celebrate life?"

I knew how Claire celebrated life back in the 1800's when we paled around the streets of St. Louis.  I didn't know how she celebrated life now. . . as a grown up.

I  could not wait to hear her response!  And then the day finally came.  I looked in my in-box and there it was.  Her response?  Not at all what I expected.  It - Blew - Me - Away!  I was speechless.  I was filled with emotion.  I cried.  I re-read it.  I cried some more.

And here it is, unchanged, un-edited, word-for-word what she said:

"Here it is, Karen

How do you celebrate life?

The short answer is, “every day I wake up is a celebration of life!” That’s too easy though! Honestly, I would not know how to celebrate life if I wasn’t taught by the heartbreak of its’ loss. I have too often experienced the death of those I love, due to Cancer, Aids, drug overdoses and car accidents. For quite a few years, it seemed that death danced around me like a seductive stripper, stealing all my joy and denying my life of love. But the biggest loss that affected me was not death, per say. I was young and on the streets – was pregnant and homeless and living in a shelter in Los Angeles. I had this beautiful child and gave him up for adoption, it was better for him. He deserved a better life than the one I was living. That was 33 years ago. I spent those years walking around with a hole in my soul. Nothing could fill it, not until we could meet and I prayed for that day. I made deals with God, to not let me die without knowing that he is ok. If only to see his face, to throw my arms around him and never let go. This is a loss worse than death. I forged through many losses after this. Heart wrenching losses. For years my joy and freedom were feigned illusions of what I thought should be celebrations. And then I received a letter and flew to L.A. – the day arrived! It was as if we were never apart. I have never felt such love, from mother to son – a long lost son. My life changed after that meeting and our relationship has grown. My soul is filled with joy. Now, when I wake up and see the sunrise, I celebrate. When I see the Mama cow and her calf, I celebrate. When the barn swallows come in the spring and have their babies, I celebrate. I have seen majestic lands, islands suns and moons, but nothing compares to the light in the eyes of a child when they look at you. Nothing. When I see that through the lens of my soul, I celebrate."

I had no idea.  I never knew.  Always so happy.  Always so upbeat.  Always high on life.  Who knew the pain she carried - on the inside - day in and day out?  Wondering.  Worrying.  Wanting. . . her son.  Did anyone know?  She hid it so well.  I cannot even begin to imagine that kind of pain, and my heart breaks for her that she ever had to know it herself.  And while the pain may have consumed her during long sleepless nights or in broad daylight while surrounded by friends, she never caved.  She never let the pain win.  She never gave up and she never gave in.  She persevered.  She remained hopeful.  And, in time, she prevailed. 

That you accepted the greatest pain a mother could ever know, that you carried this heavy burden even when your strength was gone, that you continued to live life and do the very best you could in spite of the guilt that ate at you, that you cried tears in the dark creating a river in your very soul. . . for all those many years . . . that you accepted a life of pain without complaint, without blame. . . just so your precious little one could have a better life?  I've never known such selflessness.  I am beyond words.

You have earned your joy, my sweet, sweet friend.  May your joy carry you far and may you continue celebrating your life in perfect harmony and rhythm one moment at a time with your loving son in your heart and by your side. . . always.

                                                                                                    ~Quinn

When the Soul Is Starving

My soul has been starving lately.  While my body grows and grows on the outside because I just can't seem to eat enough, my soul is anorexic.  I've been feeding the wrong part of me and it's beginning to take its toll.  Now is the time to nourish my soul before its flame is forever burned out.  To that avail . . .

I did two things I haven't done before.  Well, that's not exactly right.  I have done them - sort of, but never like this.

Friday on my drive to work, I talked to God.  I didn't bow my head and pray to some entity up in the sky.  Nope.  Instead, I just talked aloud as if the almighty deity were sitting in the seat next to me.  I wasn't demure.  I wasn't humble.  I didn't beg.  Instead, I was my true self.  Vocal and demanding as I can often be.

For some time now, I haven't known my purpose.  Why am I here?  What do I matter?  If I left this space and time today, would it matter?  I demanded to know why I exist.  I asked God to open my eyes and make my purpose crystal clear.  I didn't want to guess or speculate anymore, I wanted to know.  I don't have children.  I'm not going to have children.  I'm not helping to populate the planet.  I'm not a scientist.  I will never discover some really cool something that will benefit the whole of mankind.  I'm not an artist.  I don't create beautiful poetry or music or art that brings happiness to others.  I'm not a teacher, a preacher or prophet.  What else could my purpose be?  Some have told me that I am needed because of the work I do. . .helping poor people.  Paleezzzzzz!  Anyone - well, almost anyone, could do what I do.  There are like billions of people on the planet.  God could use any one of them to fill my position at work if I suddenly vanished into thin air.  So, if it's not to produce children, create, teach, save souls or help poor people, what could it be?  What?  I demanded to know.  And I demanded to know now.  "Don't make me wait, God," I said with as much passion as my soul could muster.

My demanding rambling went on for about 15 minutes.  When I finished, I felt. . . honestly?  Nothing.  I felt alone in my car.  I felt as if I had not been heard.  I felt foolish.  Talking to the air as I had made me question my sanity.  Yet, something inside held hope.  Hope that someone somewhere had heard my prayer.  Hope that my prayer would be answered.  I needed it to be answered.  I need to know.  Why?  Why am I here?

Within an hour, the answer walked into my office.  A person I once loved, admired, respected and trusted with my very life.  I use past tense because something in our relationship changed a few months back, and I no longer feel the way I once felt about her.  And her walking into my office?  Well, it's just not something she does anymore.  Not until Friday that is.  She walked right in.  I was shocked.  She said what she said and I said what I said and then she left.  But as she walked away, it occurred to me that God had just answered my question.  My purpose?  I am here to have relationship with others.  Little ol' me effects folks in ways I may never know. . . just as they effect me in ways they may never know.  And I'm the only one who can effect the way I do, because there is nobody else like me.  I am me.  You are you.  We are all one of a kind.  Somehow the world would be different if you or I did not have our individual effects on others.  Coincidental?  Perhaps.  But perhaps not.

Thank you, God.  Thank you for riding in the car with me last Friday.  Thank you for listening.  Thank you for answering.  My eyes are wide open and I shall look for you in all that I do.

The other thing I did?  I meditated.  I've meditated before, but never like this.  Today was different somehow.  My breathing was different, my mind was clearer, my body more relaxed, my imagery greater.  I actively participated.  And it was. . . well. . . heavenly.  I feel new.  I feel light.  I feel rested, centered and focused.  I am balanced.


I'm sorry to report that I haven't done a new interview lately.  But only because I've been standing in my own way.  Full of doubt.

I vow not to let that doubt stand in my way again.  For when I do, my soul starves.

And one more thing.  I wrote a short story today.  And then I submitted that story to NPR as a contest entry.  Win or lose, it felt amazing.  I guess good things happen when you take a moment to feed the soul.  At least that was my experience.

How 'bout you?   Do you believe you have a soul?  Do you feed your soul?  If so, in what way do you feed your soul.  Would love to hear from you!

                           
                                                                 

                                                                                                       


                                                 ~Quinn~

Random Thoughts on Oneness

So I'm hanging out alone today

all is quiet on the porch

good time for thinking

for reflecting

for soul searching

trying to answer big questions

like

where did I come from

where am I going

is there life after death

does God exist

are we all connected

Hmm. . . are we all connected?

I've heard about universal laws

but I didn't really know what they were

so I looked them up

I'm not sure I found a "universal" definition

but from what I read

it's now my understanding

that there is a belief by some

that our universe

is sort of held together by these rules

that are absolute

never changing

everlasting

timeless

And these laws dictate

how the universe functions

naturally

without instruction

without enforcement

without oversight

There appears to be several

universal laws

according to those

who hold this belief

And while there are

or appear to be

some variances

each source I viewed

seemed to agree

that at least one

universal law

was in fact 

universal

The law of oneness

Which basically means

that the entire universe

and everything in it

is connected

is one

Trees, oceans, rivers, mountains,

suns, moons, planets, stars,

humans, plants, animals,

yes, even parasites,

viruses, rocks and fire

every living and non-living thing

is connected

is one

So these fine folks
would be connected to

these lil beauties

this ugly critter (which is a flower by the way)

these festive folks

   this slice of heaven  

                

and this


Is there truth to this
is it real
I'll be the first to admit
that believing I am one
with a roach
or a rat
or a flea
is a little hard
to wrap my mind around

Probably because I don't like
roaches
rats
and fleas

And if I am connected
with critters such as these
then I have responsibility
to treat them well
like I myself
want
for
me

I've never much considered
treating a rock, stream or stick
well

Hmm
perhaps that is the point

Whether this universal law
is real
or truth
may matter
not
not one little bit

If believing it is
causes folks to be kind and handle with care
mere things
that feel nothing

Well!

Can you even imagine
how well
we'd then treat
every
living and breathing
man
woman
and child

For me this universal law

sort of gives new meaning to

Love Thy Neighbor as Thy Self

What about you

do you believe all things are connected

What evidence exists

for

or against

this belief

Thanks for stopping by

and spending time

on the porch

                                                                                                                 ~Quinn