This Blog Has Moved

Wednesday, October 13, 2010

Day 286 - Fueling and Filling

Idea for today's post lifted off a far superior blogger


I'm still Off. Slightly off center. As much time as I spend in this position you'd think I'd be used to it. But like I said yesterday, at least I'm aware of it and I understand where it comes from. Soon enough something will come along and shift me to the left and I will once again be floating in my happy bubble.

Just this morning I read a blog I stalk. She regularly inspires me, well, actually, I'm usually pea green over all her marvelous photos, but today her words put a fresh label on what I'm feeling.  I'm in a filling season. A time where I'm in between. The filling times are what drives the fueling.

Filling moments are those moments in life that don't feed us or inspire us. They are the filler, like the suffing in a pillow, or the summer reruns of life, or the place holders for "all the rest". Some moments are not even noticed. After a string of filling moments you can be left spent and off kilter and never know why. But I do. It's because you're out of fuel. Moments like cleaning house, doing the laundry, facing irate customers and climbing key mountains. When we are fueled, they slide gently by with hardly a glance. We smile at the irate costumer and handle them in the perfect way so they leave fueled. We climb key mountains and plant our flag at the peak. We clean our nests, we complete all those little chores we ignore while we're being fueled.

Fueling moments are those moments that...well.....fuel you. They can be anything. They can be funny like a hamster puffing up to the size of a pit bull, or gentle like a noticed sunset, or a inspiring like a Pixie saying "Can I go talk to Conquer?" or something breathtaking like a Godprint. How big is your fuel tank? It depends on how well you fill up. How good you are at drinking in those little moments of inspired joy and storing them for filling seasons.

Anyway, that's my fuel for this morning. I strongly suggest you go read her blog. She says it way better than I did. Oh, and her photos, as always, are fuel within fuel. 

Peace ~

Today I'm grateful for:

fuel. I'm in a filling season but I'm finding enough fuel to keep going.

God fuel. THAT is the best fuel on the market and it's FREE! *booty dances*

photo fuel. There is just something about HER photos that I love. I stalk her. I stalk her good...

Pixie fuel. Last night my youngest child showed me she learned the lesson I was teaching and taught me one all at the same time. She has an arch enemy. An Anti-Pixie if you will. A bully by the name of Conquer. Conquer has been doing what bullies do to the Pixie and her BFF. It's been ongoing for months now. Yesterday Conquers little brother got into the act. He kept kicking the Pixie's feet on the walk home from the bus stop trying to trip her. She called me when she got home, she was in tears "Mom, you would be 'soooo proud of me. I kept walking and I didn't beat him till he cried. I just kept walking and didn't say anything" I was proud of her. Ignoring that kind of behavior is EXTREMELY hard to do as an adult, it's 1,000x harder for a kid. Once I got home, and cooled off myself (cuz trust me, sporks were gonna fly), the Pixie told me how Conquer got onto her brother and tried to make him stop because "It's not cool for a boy to touch a girl". That is the heart of my youngest child. When speaking of her arch rival, her nemesis, her Anti-Pixie, she made sure we knew Conquer was not at fault. Wanna know what else? Later that evening the Pixie went next door (yes my dear stalkers, the Anti-Pixie lives right next door) with the express purpose of saying thank you to Conquer for sticking up for her. That, right there, is beautiful, inspirational fuel. I want to be just like her when I grow up.

hamster fuel. Most of you have heard, how when the hamster enters the orbit of my bed, he is magically transformed into an English Mastiff right? Well guess what? When protective, he is magically transformed into a Pit Bull. Last evening while on our walk a large black Lab got loose from his leash and came bounding up to the hamster and I. Hearing the lab's paw thuds I picked the hamster up and had him in my arms. It was instantly obvious that the lab was not viscous and only wanted to play. Obvious to me that is. While the lab was happily wagging his tail and had all 4 paws on the ground, the hamster merely looked annoyed at having his walk so rudely interrupted. However, when the lab decided he wanted a better look at the hamster and could get it by climbing me, oh now, hold up buddy, the hamster puffed up and tried to spring from my arms snarling and bucking and growling a growl I've never heard before. One that seemed to say "Whoa there Skippy this is MY human! Get off her or feel my wrath!" (all in a distinctly Latin/British accent of course. Because, after all, he is a Chihuahua/jack russel mix) As the lab continued to climb me, pulling my earphones out of my ears, his heavy paws pulling my iPod out of my pocket, the hamster continued to get bigger and harder to grip. He wanted a piece of that lab so bad he was salivating. I'm in a panic, I know I can't hold this raging hamster much longer so I yell "LADY, COME GET YOUR DOG!" Now, all this time the lab's Master Owner handler chaser is calling in the sweet voice "Noah, come to mommy. Noah, that's not nice, come on, let's go see daddy? No Noah, don't do that, come see mommy" and when I yell she replies in an annoyed voice "Oh he's not going to hurt you" and I'm left thinking "Lady, it's not YOUR dog I'm worried about" but I bite my tongue and begin to walk away. Hoping that something else will distract old Noah before the Hamster goes all Pit Bull on his ass. It takes about 3 blocks for the hamster to deflate and quit trying to climb over my shoulder for a piece of Noah. All the while I can hear him in my head, with that same Latin/English accent saying "THAT'S RIGHT YOU BIG DOPE, YOU AIN'T DOG ENOUGH TO TAKE THIS HAMSTER, RUN BACK TO YOUR MOMMY BOY" That right there is some grade A hilarious fuel. I laughed as I told that story to the man, to the Pixie, to the Redbird and now, here, telling it to you. Laughter is high octane fuel dude and worth repeating.

photography fuel. Specifically MY photography. It's lacking, it's amateurish sometimes, but it's mine and it fuels me. I'm of the combat school of photography. If you throw out enough ammunition, OCCASIONALLY you're going to hit something spectacular. Those moments when I pull a photo off my camera and know "I" didn't put it there, those are fuel.

my fuel tank. It's larger than I ever thought it would be. It still empties quicker than I'd like and I'm left feeling sorry, guilty, ashamed and lacking. But, as I make my way through this incredible journey, those moments get more and more rare. There are fewer bi-polar storms, their severity weaker, their duration less. I sill look back occasional and when I see how far I've come, it make my journey forward look less daunting. With luck I will have enough fuel to make it all the way to the end.

My Fuel

1 comment:

  1. Your blog = fuel for this tank!!
    Thanks for being the blogger that I am grateful and blessed to stalk.
    fill 'er up!
    Amy G.