Labradorite

This morning, while waiting for the post office to open so I could pick up a package of polished gemstones from Emerald Village, I thought about why we let others make up the "family" tales we tell our children and ourselves. In other words, we use popular stories from our culture as well as commercialized and religious tales to educate and entertain ourselves but how often do we take the time to tell our true family stories to our families? Everyone I've met has good, funny, sad, enlightening or other honest accounts of themselves and their family members that have delighted me and would enliven others, too, but we seem too...
...I don't know... ...tired?... ...embarrassed?... ...shy?... ...to tell the world our family woes, wins and wonders.

At one time, I wanted to be a writer whose stories were read by many but then I realized that if others were reading my stories (which are fictionalized accounts of my life and the lives of people around me, including friends, coworkers and family), then I'm taking time away from their opportunities to tell their tales to their own friends, coworkers and family. Thus, I have written this blog - as well as poems, short stories, and novels - that discourages you from reading my work.

I encourage you to find the storyteller within you and spin tall tales about your ancestors or the people you've met, leaving your family richer in the telling. You don't have to become a published author or a famous speaker. You only have to write or talk to the person(s) beside you, the best kind of life to have.

On my desk sits a slab of labradorite, a stone that has blue-green reflections (also white and yellow) due to the color schiller effect of the chemical layers in the stone. We all may "just" be atomic collections walking around, but by golly there are some atomic collections that fascinate me, such as the color reflections in stone pieces like labradorite and opal, and the light that passes through a canopy of tree leaves.

We are primates, with everything that goes with that label. Today, I am generally happy, willing to put aside the disappointments of the past and enjoy this moment for what it's worth, holding a piece of labradorite up to the window and look at the yellow-green light passing through the woods and reflecting off the stone. I ask nothing else of this moment and I'm getting what I asked for - simplicity exemplified - my own prayer rug, meditation pillow, cathedral pew, mountain vista, and perfect cup of favorite beverage [tea/coffee/ouzo/water].