A Child of the Sky

Every morning, I stand at the window in the living room watching the lake and the harbor as a new sky is being born.

I am a fan of the limitless horizon. I love watching the water in motion. I so like to imagine stories about the sailboats docked in the harbor. I am captured by the sunrise on the water.

But when walk away from the window, the fact remains soulfully filling me that of all things I am a child of the sky.

The sky doesn't hold or contain things. It's expansive and at the same time humbling. It's a universe of color and possibility. Sunrise, daylight, afternoon, starry night, with my feet on the ground, I can look up to see the sky and at the same time feel the universe inside me.

No matter the stress, the unkindness, the joy, the boredom, the hurry -- one look at the sky and life again has perspective and meaning.

No art, no symphony, culinary delicacy comes close to place that the sky reaches inside me. It's my father's hand, my mother's heart, my brothers' teasing, my best friends' trust, and my only son's lifetime love.

I don't need to reach for the sky. I need to remember it's in every cell of me.

Find the sky inside you.

-- me liz strauss, letting me be

Lines and People

I've always been fascinated by lines. I like how they separate and define spaces, how they turn as you move to change your perspective. I like the ways lines can become their own spaces between spaces. With a little imagination, lines can take me places in the same ways that lines move my eyes.

Lines are like people in the way that lines that have a purpose are more interesting than lines that do not. Randomness is lovely in people and lines, but lack of commitment is not.

Lines can enclose safe spaces or draw boundaries that give meaning.

Perhaps that's what people are doing when they draw lines around themselves.

Lines are filled with power and potential, like people.

And some have rough edges ...
But the ones that get softer over time, or in certain lights, I admire.

-- letting me be, me liz strauss

You Might Not Know My Friends

You might not know my friends when you first meet them. You might not know them ever. But I know them well.

You might know them because you've never seen them, or talked to them, or listened as they tell the stories that make them who they are. Or maybe you have and you just weren't there.

You might not know my friends even if you met them as a child, gone to school with them, shared a house or worked in their store.

You may have spent years right next to them without seeing the friends I see.
I saw them within seconds -- sometimes before we said hello.

Is the same true of your friends?

We might never know.

letting me be, me liz strauss

Millions of Us

It's called skin hunger. We need to touch each other. If we don't experience 16 touches a day, we unconsciously start bumping into people. Our skin gets lonely.

It's probably a way of preserving the species.

He said, "You knew."
I said, "So did you. Knowing isn't always believing."

Our spirit has a hunger. We need reach out for a energy, space, and beauty. If we don't experience 16 delights a day, we unconsciously start collapsing. Our soul gets lonely.

It's probably away of encouraging evolution.

In infinity a wide open spirit runs and rushes like water.
We howl at the moon only this time we're laughing.

And the energy and wonder
we give to each other by receiving
makes us all so outshine the darkness
that we cannot tell the people from the stars.

And I know and believe
we are millions of us.

Letting me be ... me liz strauss

25 Words of Wisdom from Successful Blog

I made this using Slideoo at 90%.
The SlideShare version and explanation of the project is at 25 Words of Work / Life Wisdom — Pass It On!

25 words: Stare and Wonder

Hungry morning.
I look out my window yearning.
I see a sky offering food for my soul.
I stare. I wonder.

How did it know?

--me liz strauss, letting me be

People May Appear Further Than They Are

I waited. It was about an hour before we met up, when the call finally came. Then I had to call Andy to say that Paul had picked the BEAN as a meeting place. I didn't know Andy. I'd never met Paul or the gang he was bringing along. It seemed like the touristy thing to meet folks at the BEAN on the 4th of July, though.

We had these loose connections from online friends or crossing paths. By some weird star-like direction, we would gather for a beer and conversation as if we were long-lost friends.

I'd gotten ready for the call. When it came I put on my shoes and headed out the door. I wanted to be early so that I could look around. I'd only recently discovered that I could take a decent picture with my phone.

Twenty minutes early, I took my photograph reflecting off the BEAN. Then wandered to the garden and found some flowers who wanted to be part of what I was doing. One day it will be a maze taller than I am, but that day it was an amazing burst of purples, blues, greens, and an occasional red-orange. Got a few pictures before it was time to walk the gravel path back to the sidewalk that lead to the BEAN.

As I was walking, I realized I had worn my best boots to trek the gravel. I mindless wondered whether they would recover. Too late to worry. I wiped the dust off on the of my jeans.

As I walked up to the terrace around the stainless steel bean-shaped gate, a man talking on the phone smiled and waved. I said, "hello," hoping I knew him. Then, I hoped I had him pegged as the right one of the two. Luckily, the other guy phoned so that I could be sure.

We gathered, hugged, took pictures and video. Then we walked over to the local outdoor pub to share a beer and get to know who we were.

As I sat with five other with whom conversation came easily, I thought to myself, "This group is the opposite of the reflection in the BEAN."

People May Appear Closer Than They Are.

me liz strauss, letting me be