Sacred Human

Every cell in your body, every muscle, bone, tendon, artery, vein, capillary, and the blood the flows through them, every neuron that fires thought both pleasant and unpleasant, every memory triggered, every emotion that accompany those memories whether they bring ecstatic joy or mind numbing, incapacitating, suffering, every breath and beat of your heart, has been written by the Divine who has designed your life specifically for you.

You are Sacred.

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Image: “Omniscience” by Carlos Quevedo

Monday/Tuesday/Etc

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Monday: I woke this morning filled with a sense of purpose. I danced while I made breakfast for no other reason than to feel the joy of dancing. My intentions, pure and simple; love and gratitude, lighting me from within.
I  got in my truck still smiling as I thought about this new spring unfolding before me and how life ebbs and flows with the seasons but never really ends, it just rests for a while.
Then I put my truck in gear and drove out from under my trailer, leaving it on the ground behind me. I am certain I locked the fifth wheel pin on Friday. I even had a second pair of eyes on it. At least it happened in the truck lot and not on the highway.
So now I have the day off, which is good because I can use the time to catch up on some of those things that need catching up with.
Tuesday: I woke this morning filled with a sense of accomplishment. The long list of tasks mostly complete. I danced while I made breakfast for no other reason than to feel the joy of dancing. My intentions, pure and simple; love and gratitude, lighting me from within.
When I got to my truck I noticed I had no trailer. It’s pretty hard to miss that. 40 minutes of phone tag and texting later and I find out I was supposed to meet the shop manager here at 7 am. I was here at 5:15.
So I took the time to clean my truck, catch up on emails, and do a little writing. All on the clock since the boss said to write it up as downtime.
So here I am, writing. It’s going to be a great day.
I’m going to make a prediction for tomorrow…
Wednesday: I woke this morning filled with a sense of [insert feeling here]. I danced while I made breakfast for no other reason than to feel the joy of dancing. My intentions, pure and simple; love and gratitude, lighting me from within.
[Then some shit happens and I’m okay with it]
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Picture taken at Gulf Shores.

A Brown Dogs life

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What if people were more like dogs? Happy on tap. Ready to protect on a moments notice. Always there when you need them. Always ready to love and be loved.

Want to meet someone new? Walk up to them, offer them your butt, sniff at theirs a little, and you’re either friends for life or mortal enemies. There’s no real in between for a dog and they figure out in seconds what can take us years to figure out. Genius!

Dogs don’t age either. Not really. Not if they’re taken care of. Mine, a chow/coyote mix by the name of Brown Dog (because “Reddish Coydog” is just too much to say), will be 16 this year and he looks and acts like he’s still 5. I imagine I’ll just come home one day and he’ll be laying on the couch like a stuffed animal with a smile on his face in one final act of defiance.

I hope I go like that. On the couch. Smiling. Or out for a walk. Smiling. Or making love. Smiling. I don’t really care where it is as long as I’m smiling when it happens. I’m sure Brown will be. He smiles a lot.

Dogs are a happy lot. Give them a stick or a ball to chase or chew on or a stuffed animal playmate and they’ll frolic and roll and tug and hump the stuffing out of their fluffy girlfriend all the while swaggering and smiling.

Yeah. It would be nice if we were a little more like dogs. So easy to please. So ready to please.

But then he did take a dump in the middle of the street before we got to the dog park where I wrote this, and he does have apretty short attention span, so maybe not exactly like dogs, but a roll in the grass does look nice. I’ll be back in a minute.

 

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Image of Brown Dog in the Badlands of ND.