The True Secret To Life From A 3 Yr Old

I had to be reminded by a 3 year old!!

A man was on a plane with his 3 yr old son. The little boy being a typical 3 yr old, was starting to be disruptive to the other passengers. The father opened an on-flight magazine and tore out a foldout map of the world. He proceeded to tear it along geographical lines into several pieces and laid the mixed up pieces onto the boys tray table. "Put the puzzle together, son", he said "It's a map of the world." The father hoped that it would keep the youngster busy for a few minutes at least until he lost interest. Dad then started to thumb through his own magazine, after a very brief moment, he looked down and was completely stunned to see that the boy had already perfectly completed the entire map of the world. Thinking that his son was a budding genius, he asked, "Son, how did you put that world map together so quickly?" The boy responded, "It was easy daddy, on the back of the page there's a picture of a mans head and when I got my head in the right place, the world came out just fine."

As someone who tends to over think almost everything, it has always amazed me how very small children have such a way of staying so connected, while coming up with simple solutions to something that they are faced with. I guess I need to have a little sit down with a 3 year old. I know as long as I can get my head in the right place and not over think things as to complicate them, my world will come out alright.

"It takes twenty years to make an overnight success" - Eddie Cantor

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Moving Forward

Coming to grips with the past I think is one of the hardest things for me to do. Things that have happened, mistakes I've made, people that have hurt me and vice versa, all haunt me ferociously. I know as hard as I may try, there is nothing I can do to change the past.
This week, trying to find the motivation to move forward and shake my regretful fixation, I keep reminding myself of this...
Live in the present and believe in the future. Glancing at the past can edify and assure you; however, staring at it can control and destroy you.
v edify
to improve the mind or morals of.
To instruct especially so as to encourage intellectual, moral, or spiritual improvement.
make understand

v as·sure (-shr)
1. To inform positively, as to remove doubt
2. To cause to feel sure: assured her of his devotion.
3. To give confidence to; reassure.
4. To make certain; ensure: "Nothing in history assures the success of our civilization"
5. To make safe or secure.

I know I will falter, but I shall desperately try and start staring at the beautiful things right in front of me to regain my control. I long to improve and grow confident. I refuse to be destroyed!

Poor 'Lil Chicken

I woke this morning at 4:53. I laid in the darkness, appreciating the peaceful still. I heard the faint crows of what sounded like a drunk rooster in the distance. I giggled to myself and thought stupid chicken.

I started thinking about when I was a small child and we would go to the fair. I remembered there was a chicken displayed in a case. This case held four items; the chicken, a light bulb, a cup and a tiny toy piano. Each year, I would slip a quarter into the appropriate slot, the light bulb would illuminate, and the chicken would diligently start pecking away at the keys. Mozart it was not, but it was adorable to watch. ‘'Tink, Tink, Tink’. The light would go off and a small portion of scratch would be dispensed into a cup for the chickens job well done.
I specifically remember one time, how terrible I felt for the diligent little chicken. The light came on and she played her little tune, but this time when she ran to reap her reward, it had not dispensed any scratch. Feeling badly for her and believing that the malfunctioning machine robbed her, I plugged in another coin, only to have it happen once again. I remember my dad saying "let's go, you're just torturing it". As a child, I walked away from the poor 'lil 'ol chicken feeling very sorry for it, but not thinking for one moment, that I would later use the experience as a comparative and a lesson of persistence to myself.
I told my girls the story today. They all replied the very same way I had, "Aw, that's so sad, that poor little chicken". I remember it had looked at me like I was crazy after pecking at an empty cup. What must have been going through its little chicken head? What the Hell, where's my scratch? I did my job, now pay up!
Now as an adult, I realized something today, the machine was probably set to dispense a specific healthy amount of food and already had for that afternoon. Still slightly hungry, the chicken would continue the afternoon going through the motions like its little chicken brain knew, because at some point it got a reward.
I sometimes feel like that little chicken, diligently doing what I am supposed to, when I am supposed to do it, and getting nothing. I guess if I got it all at once, then the force that drives me would be gone. It's frustrating not reaping an instant reward; however, I will continue to keep playing my piano ‘Tink, Tink, Tink’. I will continue to do my thing with persistence and perseverance and hopefully, just hopefully my scratch will soon be dispensed again.

My Gumball Heart

My heart is like a gumball, starting off bright and colorful.
Perfectly seamless and happily surrounded by others that complimented it beautifully, to create an illuminated sea of happiness for someone with a single desire.
I dispensed my heart, bright and shiny into the hand of someone who really desired a different color. They were never quite being happy with what mine had to offer, even when I gave my all.
It hurts now, chewed up and spit out; left without color, shape, or form. I wonder how I will ever again find the beautiful brilliance it once gleamed. It almost seems impossible, but surely with time I will be able to reshape and remold it to possess some of the desirable appeal it once had. Although, I do wonder if it will ever again be able to illuminate so vibrantly, as to attract the heart of someone who desires the color and flavor that it holds.
I'm scared to death, to let it go again. I have it clenched tightly in my fist, like a small child in fear of it being taken away, clutched to my chest and desperately trying to protect it. I just hope that when the time comes and that someone comes along, I will be able to loosen my grip.
I know it won't be perfect and it will bare white scars, while my palm showing signs of color that bled from it; however, I long for the day that someone makes me feel safe and secure enough that I will be able to trustfully share with them my gumball heart in an outstretched and open hand.

Jeni