The muffled voice of my mom and dad in the yard. Close but distant echo of their voices. A perfectly shaped tunnel of trees covering a road I frequent to and from the barn. The small, white butterfly that flits so gracefully around the paddock ground. The sound of the chimes blowing in the wind. The rustling sound of the poplar leaves. The grave marker and the flowers that mark the memory of her life’s passing. The bending of the plants arms reaching towards the sunlight, with each move of the plant, it’s branches shift again to the light of day. The look of his eye, each wrinkle, each movement expresses an unspoken communication between the two of us. Truly hearing the story of another, as they tell it with such joy. Hugging your mother as if it was the last time. Watching the quiet breathing of my cat as she sleeps in undisturbed comfort and peace. The warm feeling of coming home after a long week.
Living present in the moments of an ordinary day in the life of an ordinary person. It is not how much you have, or the number in your bank account, nor the influential friends or how many friends you may have. Not how many books you wrote, or how long you have been married that count. For so few of us are so gifted to live the life of our dreams, or excel beyond mediocracy. So many of us seek that life of purpose, only to find we get lost in life’s shuffle.
It is the moments of your life that offer a profound awareness of being present. For it is the cultivation of those moments that make an ordinary life extraordinary!
By Diana Wanamaker
Copyright August 3, 2106
All Rights Reserved
By Diana Wanamaker
Scars tell stories. Sometimes they show themselves on the outside, visibly laying on the surface of our skin. Lying there in all it’s mystery. No longer with the intensity of it’s first entry, but a shadow, a whisper of what once was. It mutter’s a gentle reminder, just as a picture tucked away in box of photo’s. A subject of conversation of those who ask it’s reticent display.
Some scars can heed a recall of close calls turned well, evoking laughter today. Other scars tell tale’s of dark secrets of life gone wrong, desperately seeking an end to the pain of it all. Sometimes scars reveal scars of love, scars that remind you of loved ones gone, scars of youth, of age, or the risk it took to save another. No matter it’s origin or arrival, there lays a story to be told.
Scars that lay visibly on the temples of our body that tell accounts of the journey of this thing called life.
So you can swish away the internal scars and hide their stories. But on the skin of life, with violins playing, drums rolling and the triangle tingling its announcement, there lies a small piece of your world……the visible scar.
Copyright April 2015. All Rights Reserved
By Diana Wanamaker
As a devoted horse care giver there is the inevitable pet peeves that enter the passionate world of the finest equestrian poop scooper. There is that frustrating piece of poop that gets stuck in between the fork and you spend the next 10 minutes trying to get the darn thing out of there! The ole’ take your boot and slide your boot along the forks shape to unstick the poop. Poop still stuck. Then comes the tapping of the fork slightly on the ground or top of muck bucket. Poop still stuck. Find something near by like a rock to get poop out of fork. Nothing near by……oh wait, here’s a rock, that is smaller then the specimen of poop. Ewe! Ok, now I will be touching the poop. Ok, forget the rock. Where is a twig, something to un-lodge this dang poop! Ok, I’ll try this twig laying close to where I am standing. Twig breaks. Now swearing at poop stuck in fork as resulted in this frustration process. A quick look from my gelding with a big sigh; what is the problem, it’s just poop look. Ok, that didn’t work either. So, forget about the one piece of poop in the manure fork and just keep picking up the poop! Things to do, places to go for the day, get over the one piece of poop that is still lodged in the manure fork!
The poop scooping is commenced and low and behold, another piece of poop gets lodged in the manure fork! Ok, is this is how the rest of my day is going to go?! Again, the process begins of dis-lodging the ever bothersome poop! The boot, the tapping, the swearing, the round about frustration of the poop! Ok, not working! So, let’s do the happy dance and give tons of gratitude that here I am scooping poop from my beloved horse! Each poop is a joy, because each poop offers a stamped statement of his good health! We love poop! More poop please! Yea for the Poop! Poop celebration commenced!
Poop still stuck in manure fork. Ignore poop. One more tap of the poop! Finally, Poop comes out! Yea! About time!
Life is like that sometimes! The poop of life sometimes comes in little frustrating pieces that just will not go away, no matter your efforts! The continued force to rid yourself of the poop, seems to highlight it’s existence even more! Frustration ensues, with more poop dislodging antics are first and foremost on your mind! The energy to get rid of it becomes so snowballed, that it grows. Certainly worth the effort, no doubt. I mean who wants to walk around with a piece of food lodged between their teeth all day long. Or what about the jar that just won’t open, no matter your efforts, and when you finally give up on it and come back to it. Whala! The jar opens up like there was no problem to begin with.
Life can be like the poop in the manure fork. Sometimes you have to just laugh at it, celebrate it, ignore it, forget it, or just accept it for what it is. Then the new found energy just releases the hold on it and it is free once again!
By Diana Wanamaker -professional poop scooper!
Copyright February 2016. All Rights Reserved
By Diana Wanamaker
My life as been so incredibly busy lately, that it has been difficult to even get the garbage out. Although it brings very exciting and positive changes.
I was at the barn this morning feeding Jay as I do every morning before I start my day. It was a beautiful day, filled with sunny skies and a welcoming invitation to the great outdoors.
When I can, I let Jay out of his pasture to graze in the yard, and he just loves to be able to do that. I could immediately see this morning that he had every intention of letting me know that this morning was a morning he wanted to graze. I had no time to do that, but Jay stood by the gate and gave me that look, and I read his intention. Despite my lack of time, Jay continued watching me with that sweet face, standing in the corner by the gate, offering only his continued, persistent intention.
He then began to weave, which brings me due unrest to see him anxious or unhappy in that way. But, I have also learned that Jay has learned how to reach my inner most vulnerability to get his message to me. I had no time, but his request pulled at my heart strings. I had to go!
As I slowly drove away in my car, I continued to look back into the pasture and apologized that I had no time. He continued to stand by the gate and weaved, and as my car pulled around to his back side, he turned his head to glance at me. I yelled out my apologies, once again, and how sorry I was, as he cocked his ear in the direction of my voice.
I drove off, knowing he would be fine, but it stuck with me all day, of how unsettling it can sometimes be to not have enough time to return a small bit of happiness to him, as much as he so graciously gives to me.
Copyright June 2014. All Rights Reserved