Mocking bird salute

I've lived in a two story townhouse home for the past seven years and for the last five of those years, I have had a yearly visitor in the form of a Mocking Bird. For those of you who aren't familiar with this bird, here is what Wikipedia tells us:

Mockingbirds are a group of New World passerine birds from the Mimidae family. They are best known for the habit of some species mimicking the songs of other birds and the sounds of insects and amphibians, often loudly and in rapid succession. Wikipedia

Tennessee Mocking Bird
Mimus polyglottos
http://www.flickr.com/

It is an ironic sidenote that the mocking bird is the Tennessee State Bird genus Mimus polyglottos, which my home state adopted and made official on April 19, 1933. Why am I writing about mocking birds? Because these hardy little birds, if you have read the above Wiki information, are very LOUD and PERSISTENT in their yearly nesting and mating habits. These habits include finding the highest point available for them to perch and warble their little hearts out, pitching woo...loudly and persistently....to the night. And to hapless townhouse inhabitants attempting to grab a few precious hours of sleep.

I'm happy to share with you that not only do mocking birds imitate the songs of other birds, insects and amphibians, they imitate cats and dogs, machinery and musical instruments, and the occasional slamming door or rusty hinge. They trill through their repertoire with great and lusty enthusiasm, rarely pausing as they skillfully switch from bird song to cat meow to truck engine revving continuously. At times, it can be amusing listening to the sheer volume of calls they can produce. My bedroom happens to be the tallest peak of this row of townhouse units, so this is why I am the lucky recipient of the nightly serenade and mocking bird orchestra.

Again, you're probably wondering why I'm writing about this topic. For months now, I have been turning over in my mind the fact that humans and wildlife aren't that greatly different. I've written before about social masks that we all employ to get through our daily existence. In a similar manner to the mocking bird, we also adapt our speaking voice in tone, inflection, volume and emotion to communicate our thoughts and emotions to those around us. We wear different clothing, hairstyles and cosmetics to project various public images, to denote our current mood and again, to use as social camouflage and quite often, as a courtship tool.

http://www.musicalexpress.net/

The thing that always strikes me is how cheerful mocking birds are, every single night, in their pursuit of procreation. I am sure that to the mocking bird, this is not a cause for amusement. Indeed, their nightly concert is a life and death effort to continue their species. My human ears cannot help, however, finding charm in the widely varied trills, chirps, barks, cricket sounds (those are the exception to the finding charm part as they really drive me nuts) and engine noises. These small birds are quite aggressive in their display of auditory talents, finding no shame at all in adopting sounds from another species or object to further their goals. In some ways, I would liken it to a painter painting, using colors to express different emotions and messages, or a conductor standing in front of an orchestra with arms raised, wand at the ready to coax a stellar performance from all the musicians. Mocking birds simply do the same with their calls.

http://www.paintinghere.com/

Of course, when it is 3:30 am and I am still hearing incessant bird calls, cat screeches and hissing as well as various motorized noises in rapid succession, it isn't quite as charming or amusing anymore. There are many nights when I lie awake listening to the endless, noisy litany that I am suspicious my particular mocking bird is perched by my window with a calculating, crafty, borderline maniacal gleam in his beady little eyes, fully aware he is costing me a decent night of sleep. I also wonder about the female counterpart to my serenading friend; is she sitting out there in the night, listening, brought to a feminine birdie swoon, thinking, "Oh my! Now that is one sexy, masculine, attractive boat motor sound! That must be the father of my future children! I must fly to him now!"? Even then, when these thoughts are chasing blearily through my tired mind, I do admit to a certain level of admiration for this little bird's plucky spirit.

We as human beings could take a leaf from their book as we navigate our own daily lives. Shine our emotions brightly and enthusiastically, be unafraid to show every facet and skill we possess in a lyrical manner, perhaps borrow someone else's form of expression momentarily, communicate with others with absolute enthusiasm...and most of all, find a high spot to proclaim our love widely and loudly to the masses. Wouldn't that be an interesting, entertaining courtship process?

There is no great or deep message here this time around. More a tangle of sleep deprived thoughts that have been assailing me for several months now during the nightly mocking bird salute. As annoying as my current feathered visitor can be each night, I still wind up missing the sounds as fall weather sets in. I feel a sort of kinship evolve in the months each mocking bird sets up housekeeping outside my bedroom window. From it has sprung a blog post that I'm not sure will capture readers' attention in quite the same way as other posts, but perhaps many of you will remember similar memories of your own with a mocking bird salute. And perhaps you will smile at the memories.
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If you enjoyed this post and would like to read more, you can find me at Healing Morning blog.

Footsteps

The needle on my compass is broken. It used to be quite reliable as far as my navigational partner, but currently it stopped pointing the way. Now what?! Maybe it is a good thing.


I often find that often the compass is not necessarily “broken” as much as it has an intrinsic intelligence that pauses its function to allow us to switch to our intuitive devices. I think things happen to keep us from plodding along life’s path in a “lemming-like” state just because. Like early sailors, if they were caught out at sea without a map or compass, they switched between what God placed before them, mixed in with a little “gut”, and they fearlessly tread onward driven by passion and fear of standing still.

However, when the path forward sometimes seems rather dull, frightful, unchallenging, or perhaps dismal at a given moment, we can take a peek in our rearview mirror. Although not always wise to “live” in yesterday, we can retrace a few paces and maybe examine our impact.

Is where we have been only what it appears on the surface? Is our past only comprised of our own circumstances? Are we travelling alone? I think we leave footprints.

In our travels we leave behind visible markers of our presence. Sometimes we leave perishable traces of where we have been–momentary evidence that we have passed through. It is our footprint on life’s sandy beach simply waiting on the tide of time to erase it. From the simple gestures, assistances we have loaned to a stranger, and idle banter with passers-by we can indeed leave a footprint along our daily path. Think back at the end of your day to simple moments of truth where we maybe encountered a stranger, exchanged contact, and then proceeded onward. Do you remember them? There lies a footprint. They took the place of another thought. In your absence you live on in someone else’s life–even if momentarily. Who knows where the nudge will take you?

Sometimes we walk through damp concrete–our steps indelibly present–proof of our presence strong and visible eventually hardening. Maybe they were words of encouragement that turned another’s life around at a crucial moment. Many times we are not always aware of the depth and impact our presence can make on another. We may not be aware of how close to another’s core we come. Sometimes with a simple anecdote we may save a life somewhere down the line.

Some of us are teachers. We share our skill so that another may flourish. Words, trades, jobs, and knowledge are precious gifts never to be taken lightly. Used in the hands of a creative master, we never know what momentum may be given to a simple statement or craft. Maybe our footprint here was simply stepping first in the right direction allowing others to follow.

As mentors past or present, we must not concern ourselves as much with where we are now going, but to remain at peace that we have fertilized another’s journey. Being a parent is one of the most crucial of this example. “Do as I say, and not as I do?” I still think we should lead by example noticing that a child learns life through our footsteps. If we are mindful now of our steps, less apology and reconciliation may be needed later. Time passed through anger and pain that could be well spent exchanging quality time–time spent laying a dual set of steps for future travelers. Lay your footsteps for your children as if they were pavers to cross life’s chasm. Often they are.

Sometimes our footsteps go through another’s garden. Sometimes we tread where we are unwelcome. We may have good or bad intention but still we find we have trampled another’s field. As with flowers, they can be damaged; they can be destroyed, but can also be replanted–seeds can be re-sown. We must realize that we may not be welcome to help in the recultivation. Even though we may be willing to dirty our hands and dig, and be willing to water the seeds for new growth, sometimes we must move onward and create our own garden where our footsteps are welcome. Maybe this new space must be fertilized with the lesson learned that we need to be aware that we also travel in a path shared by others, and that we must respect our fellow journeyers.

I find as I venture onward, I have become less attached to the path I leave but have increased in my respect of it. I realize that I am not the only one stepping. I also realize how much my steps leave behind a part of me both good and bad, and sometimes they are brief in their presence, and sometimes will remain long after I have left this Earth.

In my presence, and my awareness of where I am now, I can at least try my best to be respectful in where I leave my footprints. I also realize that sometimes I may leave them where I am completely oblivious to. I hope I don’t trample your flowers.

I finally realize that at some point along the way, I was often uncertain of what lie ahead, but now as I look back, I realize I kept walking onward. Sometimes I needed faith to keep moving to be able to put the story together later by examining the footsteps. I just hope when I reach the end of my journey, my steps were flanked by my loved ones, that they were pointed in a good direction and that when in a deep or dark area, the steps continued out of the valley.

Thanks for walking with me today.

Repost from - Artisan of the Human Spirit by Tony Anders

365 Lessons-Lesson 203: Find Your Enthusiasm

When I was in junior high, I had to take Health. It was required and I was not too enthused about that as I was going through my rebellious teen years. On the first day of class, once everyone was seated, the teacher, Mr. Baerveldt yelled out, "How's your PMA (Positive Mental Attitude)?" We all just sat there, a bunch of preteens staring in emptiness at this man who looked like he might take flight from all his cheerfulness. Some students even rolled their eyes, but Mr. Baerveldt would not give up on us. He let us know that whenever he said this at the beginning of class we were supposed to jump out of our chairs, full of vigor, and yell back, "Boy am I enthusiastic!"

He tried it again and there were a few muffled voices feigning enthusiasm. He tried again. A few more people. Finally, just to get him to stop, we all jumped out of our chairs, fists in the air like Superman, and shouted back in unison, "BOY AM I ENTHUSIASTIC!"

And then we couldn't help but laugh. We all felt a little ridiculous. Day after day, this was how we started our 5th period Health class. I have to say, by the end of it, maybe through osmosis, I did feel enthusiastic.

My goal as a teen was to avoid enthusiasm. I was supposed to be cool. Cool people weren't enthusiastic, they were just "cool." I'm sorry now that I missed out on what a lot of great teachers had to offer because I wasn't in the frame of mind to "receive the teachings" so to speak. However, maybe some of it stuck with me. I can't forget Mr. Baerveldt after all these years and even when I see my best friend Lena and she says, "How's your PMA?" I automatically throw my arms up in the air and shout, "Boy am I enthusiastic!"

I have a book in my library that I think is right up Mr. Baerveldt's alley. It's called Do It! Let's Get Off Our Buts. I love this book. And I love that "buts" has a double meaning. Now that's "cool."

Even cooler is when the authors, John Roger and Peter McWilliams, explain where the word enthusiasm comes from:

Enthusiasm comes from the Latin en theos-one with the energy of the Divine.

And they go on to quote famous people who wrote about enthusiasm:

The real secret of success is enthusiasm.
-Walter Chrysler

Nothing great was ever achieved without enthusiasm.
-Emerson

I rate enthusiasm even above professional skill.
-Edward Appleton

I couldn't agree more. If you are enthusiastic about what you are doing, how can you fail? After all, the Latin speakers of the world believe you are in tune with the Divine; the word "fail" is not in your dictionary.

If you are having trouble finding your enthusiasm, I recommend the exercise my Health teacher had us do way back when. If you say it long enough and loud enough, maybe you'll start to believe it. Maybe it will become your mantra. Maybe a life filled with enthusiasm will become "cool" for you. Maybe it will become your way.

Also published on my blog, Lessons from the Monk I Married.

Sharing some things I value.

The advantage about the lifestyle I live is that I am able to have the flexibility to be where I feel I need to be in life when I need to be. I mostly work for myself and this has allowed me to be a stay at home mom while raising my three daughters and it has allowed me to take time to recover when I’ve had health setbacks and then return to whatever work I choose to do when I am healthy enough. I’m grateful for this but it has also meant that our finances have gone up and down over the years, and when my children were very young, we really had to make a lot of sacrifices while I spent most of my time tending to them while managing my chronic health condition.

I never felt that we were sacrificing that much because I felt we were always focusing on what was truly of value to us: our family, our passions, guidance from within and always seeking to expand that to a higher level of thinking and behaving, our health, and our community. We have had our ups and downs, I’ve come close to dying a couple of times because of my health; my heart stopped under anesthesia during surgery that I had to undergo a couple of years ago that ended up being more extensive than the surgeon originally thought would need to be - it was surgery to help me be able to walk.

I credit a lot of my ability to manage my health as well as I do because of the alternative methods of healing that I use. Doctor’s and other health practitioners tell me time and again that they view me as a walking miracle. I’m grateful I’m walking and alive whether by miracle or hard work and constant focus, either way, I’m grateful.

I do work at it. I come from a long line of hardy, determined, independent, and proud people. They have also been an ancestry of cold, bitter, distant people who have also struggled with being involved in victim consciousness; acting from both sides of the coin in being both victim and victimizer. There are extremes in my lineage; often the first step toward an issue turning into a problem is having it go to the extreme.

I seek to walk a balance and look for the qualities that can carry me through and discard those that have held my family back for generations. There is a deeply entrenched, unequal, and unfair patriarchy to my family’s imbalance among strong women who have often been left to pick up the pieces even though all they may have had left of themselves after the settled dust of abuse and abandonment were fragmented pieces. I have sought to reclaim the role of strong matriarch for my family moving forward and it begins with my three daughters.

I had daughters. I choose not to see this as an accident but as an extension of the will to do better; another chance to heal and to try to do it better moving forward. I also see it as no accident that so many in my family, siblings, aunts and uncles, cousins, chose not to have children, even if they chose to marry, they made the decision very deliberately not to have children. The lineage is dying out and I have to say that in many ways I am grateful if no one was willing to take on the task of trying to do it better.

In my family the way paved was with little to no support, and very little understanding. There was little to no guidance because it was new unknown territory, so there was no guidance to be given. In my lineage one would be on their own in the wilderness, an ostracized member of a sick and dying tribe struggling to find the path to surviving much less the path to thriving.

I write as one of my coping mechanisms, I also expose myself to anything that will uplift and inspire because my life has been very challenging but I refuse to give up, though I will surrender. Surrender is a whole other thing - I actually find freedom and release in surrender. I surrender to the answer, which so far always comes as soon as I surrender. I choose to expose myself to that which inspires but that doesn’t mean I shy away from being exposed to something terrible or challenging, if I did I would have to be living in complete and utter denial. But when I come across something terrible or challenging, I try to seek out the inspiring. I search for the solution to a problem, or the way through the challenge; I look for the lotus in the mud.

I have always been a journal writer, I started when I was very young, and this blog is an extension of that exercise. I really use this blog as a reminder to myself to be inspired and to be inspiring. It is a part of what gets me through the day, and there are days where getting through the day means getting through the moments. I appreciate the exchange with my readers, and I am very grateful to those who are reading this and getting something out of it and comment this to be the case.

Thank you.

Belltones

Photo courtesy of
http://www.franckh.be/

For those of you who grew up and went to grammar school in the 1970s, you may remember the special days that everyone trooped to the library to watch an 8mm filmstrip on some educational subject. I say 'filmstrip' because that's exactly what it was - a roll of film on a large metal spool that was threaded through a projector, which then projected the images of each frame on the filmstrip onto the screen that pulled down from a casement on the library wall.


If you were one of the lucky ones chosen, you were able to sit next to the projector and manually twist the little knob to advance the filmstrip, frame by frame, as a recorder told the story being watched. A belltone would sound when it was time to advance the filmstrip to the next frame. Before I moved on from grammar school, a wonderful new device was introduced - a small hand held wand with a button that was pushed to automatically advance the filmstrip frame by frame. This cylinder still had to be manned by some lucky child. I have no idea what type of audio-visual equipment is used in grammar schools these days; no doubt they are using DVDs.

What is my point? Belltones. I can distinctly remember, on the occasions that I was chosen to man the projector, how clear that belltone sounded to my ears. I have always been a student of esoteric and spiritual concepts, even going back to my formative years in grammar school. Those belltones always captured my attention because quite often in my personal life and spiritual studies, days after I would run across a particularly pertinent bit of information, I would hear a similar belltone.

When it first happened, I was certain other people could hear it too, but I learned that this sound was one of spiritual origin and thus, something that was meant for me to hear alone. If I could describe it, I would say that I always hear this belltone at the top of my head, slightly towards the crown, or fontanelle area. Those of you who have had children may recognize the word 'fontanelle' as being the soft spot on a newborn baby's head. This soft spot exists to enable the baby's head to pass through the birth canal more easily, as the bony plates of the skull are more malleable; they ossify, or harden completely by the age of 2.

Photo courtesy of
http://www.answithin.com/

The other noteworthy aspect of this spot on the skull is that it is the location of the Crown Chakra, also known as the Cosmic Consciousness Center, the "I Am" awareness. It took me a while during my formative years to connect this belltone sound with the fact that I could "hear" and "feel" it close to my crown chakra, and to also assimilate what that meant in spiritual terms. What does it mean, you might ask? Since it did, and still does happen to me, my interpretation is that this a type of spiritual "red flag" to capture my attention and get me to focus on the lesson at hand. I have mentioned other flags such as yawning and feeling goosebumps or shivers (Shivers + Yawns = Growth!) in past blog articles. I am certain that every person has their own quirky little method or flag to recognize when something of great import is occurring. This belltone that I hear hasn't ceased as I've grown older. Indeed, it has grown stronger, more clear and definitive, reverberating from that crown chakra down through every subsequent chakra point and literally waking up my whole spiritual, etheric body.

I have a whimsical mental image of some cosmic hand at the controls of the projector displaying the story of my life, advancing it frame by frame on the spiritual filmstrip, sounding that belltone emphatically at those watershed moments. I firmly believe that we are masters of our own path, but I also firmly believe we are gently guided by a Loving Source, or Presence steering us in a direction which will afford us the best opportunities to learn, whittle down rough edges and grow.

Photo courtesy of
http://www.earthmoonfire.spaces.live.com/

Sometimes I also think our lives are similar to those old-fashioned movies....long, separate filmstrips addressing every layer, every high and low point, triumph and failure of our lives. Laughter, tears, accomplishments; moments where we learned and grew. Moments where we hurt and cried. Bell tones sounding as some unseen hand pushes the button to advance the frames of our lives, knowing we would continue...find a way to persevere. Old filmstrips removed from the projector to be tucked away in some mysterious library for us to study when our time comes to cross over.

For some, while we are here, the bell tones are too high a frequency for our human ears to detect. Our Souls hear it though, and recognize when it is time to take that next step, to move forward to another filmstrip, or to increase the length of a current one.

Photo courtesy of
http://www.faqs.org/

Perhaps this sounds outlandish to some readers. Perhaps some of you are reading and nodding your heads in complete understanding. Perhaps many of you have a similar experience with some Divinely Guided prompting that reassures you that you're making those strong, centered choices. I'd love to hear your own stories in the Comments section below if you do experience a similar type of confirmation, a similar "A-ha!" or 'lightbulb' experience that makes you stop and take note of that specific moment in time. It may be not so much a physical or auditory manifestation such as the one I experience. For you, it may be a gentle knowing deep inside. I experience those moments also, and they are beautiful, touching and profound in their simplicity. The moments when I hear a belltone tend to be more life changing events - a big walloping cosmic wake up call to grab my attention with strong emphasis.

Photo courtesy of
http://www.stanlyconcert.com/

We are all beautifully unique beings, going through daily life tripping along to our own special harmonies. I surmise that the manner and manifestation of being nudged in this direction or that, of becoming acutely aware of a spiritual lesson are as widely and richly varied as we are as individuals. For me, a belltone occurs. Clear in tone, strong and mellow in tenor and lasting in effect as it reverberates through my being, marking a bright moment.

As I grow older, the tone of this bell has changed, deepened and grown richer in sound. I can only believe that it is adapting to the harmony of my own Spirit as I grow, learn and change; lifting my own vibrations to a higher, deeper, more clear resonance. I don't question its presence; I am happy that it occurs with regularity in my life, as it gives me affirmations as well as guidance. The Unseen Hand which guides us all with loving intent, for me, making itself known in the pure, sweet tones of a bell.
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If you enjoyed this post and would like to read more, you can find me at Healing Morning blog.

In the Mist

Surrounded by mist,
unable to see the contours
of the road
that rushes ahead,
I stand very still
upon my rocky path.

The sound of a stream
flowing in the distance
touches my ears.
A cold breeze attempts
to stir the morning air.
The leaves of a tree
rustle.

A squirrel scuttles
across my path,
vanishing into an abyss
of cloud.
Like a dream
that has neither beginning
nor end.

Locked in
the embrace of a white canvas
upon which this moment
is painted,
I close my eyes.

In the darkness
of my mind's eye,
I see the brilliance
of a thousand suns.
Upon the glistening horizon,
a little bird
makes a leap of faith
from its nest
into golden skies.

I smile, for I know
you are here.
Enchanting this moment
with your beauty,
permeating it with the serenity
of your vision,
blessing it with the silence
of your sweet soul.

(Also posted on my blog)

This art called napping

*Photo courtesy of
http://www.hahastop.com/

Naps - doesn't the very word just make you smile? Well, it does if you're past the age of 8, probably. Childhood is about the only time in our lives when the word "nap" is a bad thing. There's playing to be done, after all....trees to climb, siblings to pester, the whole world to explore in your backyard. Who has time for a nap when all it does is interrupt all the fun? Adults are just weird that way.


Flash forward to adult years and oh my, yes, the concept of napping takes on overtones of sinfully decadent indulgence. Snoozing an extra five minutes in the morning can honestly save your sanity and keep your co-workers safe for one more business day. The thought of snatching twenty minutes in the middle of the day to zone out and recharge can produce a wistful sigh, as very few of us are granted that luxury during the business week.

Other countries are smarter than the United States in that they do recognize the logic behind resting during the middle of the day. Mid-afternoon naps exist and thrive in numerous countries, all of whom embrace a much slower, more sane and, I daresay more healthy approach to life. Naps are a good thing from all perspectives.

Photo courtesy of
http://www.parade.com/

For each of us, the ideal nap has its own persona and location. Some prefer their beds with crisp, freshly laundered bed linens and tons of poofy pillows. Others are couch napping afficianados. Many prefer a hammock or porch swing, and there are some who will stretch out on the floor for a quick snooze. My older sister has this incredible ability - incredible to my way of thinking because I don't possess this ability - to nap at will. She can fall asleep at the drop of a hat, in noisy and/or uncomfortable conditions. Not so for me. I have to have quiet and at least a bit of comfort to snooze during the day. But ohhh...on the rare occasions it does happen, I find a nap to be a thing of beauty!

You have to throw in the question of what constitutes a nap, I suppose. Some argue that a nap shouldn't be longer than twenty minutes. Webster's Dictionary defines a nap thusly:

Main Entry: 1nap
Pronunciation: \ˈnap\
Function: intransitive verb
Inflected Form(s): napped; nap·ping
Etymology: Middle English nappen, from Old English hnappian; akin to Old High German hnaffezen to doze
Date: before 12th century
1 : to sleep briefly especially during the day : doze
2 : to be off guard

So, according to the above definition, to nap is to sleep briefly. Those of us who are true nap connoisseurs will disagree and staunchly defend the concept of a 2-3 hour stretch of sleep as fitting into the parameters of a nap. I fall into this category, as sleeping for only twenty minutes actually makes me more tired, groggy and irritable than I was before I napped in the first place! I feel a nap should be at least one hour or longer to qualify as a true experience of the act.

*Photo courtesy of
http://www.rockingrocker.com/

I prefer a longer nap and cooler temperatures, but there's also something to be said for being outside and catching a stretch of sleep in some shady spot. Fresh air, the sounds of nature around you...that's just pure bliss to fall asleep and wake up to! Some people enjoy napping on the beach, out under the full blaze of the sun. I'm not one of them. Sweating and napping don't go together in my world. I'm more fond of the porch swing nap, as it keeps me out of the sun but allows me to still hear the birds chirping and feel the breeze blowing, smell the flowers blooming as I drift off to the gentle sway of the porch swing.

Animals seem to be the most savvy nap takers around. Watch your cats and dogs - they know the value of a well executed nap! That cold spot on the kitchen floor keeps their tummy cool and who knows, when they wake up, one of their people might be around to dole out a snack.

Perhaps that's another reason we as human beings love naps so much - we remember our own childhood naps in a similar way. Mom would always be there to hand out a snack and give us a hug when we woke up.

We know from a medical perspective that getting sufficient rest is healthy and necessary. The pace of the modern world is such that unfortunately, many people find naps to be their most common source of sleep. This is saddening, as we all deserve a truly good, solid night of sleep. Naps should, in my world, be a treat - that icing on the cake, that cherry on top of the sundae, that extra bite of a delicious meal - something to indulge in with gusto and enjoyment! No agenda, no particular place to be but right there in that spot that invites you to settle in and snooze peacefully, allowing your body, mind and spirit to rest, regroup and recharge.

*Photo courtesy of
http://www.fineartamerica.com/

I think that porch swing is calling my name....

....and I'm on my way to answering!

There is an art to resting, and one facet of this art is called napping.

Take a nap, my friends. A long, extended, absolutely self-indulgent....nap. It's good for you, and you'll thank me!


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*No financial return was received from posting photos and links to the websites above.
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If you enjoyed this post and would like to read more, you can find me at Healing Morning blog.