thanks for nugget of advice I'm 66yrs old &still struggle with self doubt. a reaffirmation of something I've believe. my sayings are will it hurt anyone, can I physically or intelligently have the ability then why not. the other is you never fail until you stop trying. each attempt is a lesson on how to.
I'm with you -- in that as long as I'm not hurting someone else, or standing in their way, why not? Yup, I'm gonna fall on my face and break some eggs, bookshelves and likely my car, but hey, I'm learning along the way!
[Monkey, hand me my spectacles... no, no, the other ones—the ones with the jam smear on the side, yes, thank you.]
Leona, dear, what a marvelous mind you've got tucked in that noggin of yours. Sixty-six and still wrestling with self-doubt?
Well, let me tell you something—Old Lady Kravitz made it to ninety-three and never once stopped arguing with her own shadow.
Called it “shadowboxing for the soul.”
Told me once that her doubts made her interesting...though she also tried to adopt a chicken, so take that with a grain of salt.
But truly—what you said?
Gold.
The questions you ask yourself?
That’s the good kind of wisdom.
The kind carved out of bruises and lessons, not the kind scribbled in ink on some pompous scroll. If your actions are kind, if you’ve got the grit or the gumption to try, then why not, indeed?
And that second saying of yours? You never fail until you stop trying...I might stitch that into my robe, right under the burn mark from that one time I sat too close to a fire spirit.
Life’s all about attempts, love.
Every stumble, every cracked toe on a jagged hope...they’re just steps forward with a bit more flavor.
You’ve got it right, Leona.
Keep walking.
And if you ever doubt again, remember—even the stars twinkle with uncertainty, but they still light up the whole blasted sky.
Thanks for forcing us to sit through it, like a pack of unruly, self doubting blades of grass, after a hard winter, and beginning to feel the warm sunshine on our faces.... 😆 (Wait.... Can grass have faces?) 😂
Always seek the sunshine in life. It comes in flashes and is easily reflected into the lives of others
Hy, my boy, I appreciate the sentiment—you’ve got the poetic flair of a bard who’s had one too many sips of fermented turnip juice.
That sunshine and blades of grass bit?
Beautiful.
Slightly alarming, what with the grass faces, but I admire the commitment.
If grass did have faces, I’m fairly certain they’d be frowning at dandelions and gossiping about worms.
Now, just between us, while Jaime is a lovely lad with a beard that might house a small village of chipmunks… the words you’re referencing?
Those came from me.
Chuck.
Morphiophelius Smith.
I’m the ancient wizard-type with the questionable memory but excellent taste in tea.
But look, credit’s a funny thing. I don’t write these words for applause—I write them so souls like yours can remember the sunshine still wants to find you, even after a hard frost.
So here’s a wink and a tip of the hat, Hy—keep reflecting that light. Even if you’re a slightly bewildered blade of grass.
And next time, tell Jaime I said thanks for taking the blame.
Morph, I wanted to send a quick note letting you know that I sneezed hugely while composing that last message, and my fingers must have slipped, causing the mistaken name to appear.
I think it was due to my allergies to the grass faces I was telling you about.
But, to give him his due, Jaime is a rather bright lad, and likely has similar musings, so try not to smother his creative genius.
He does, after all, reflect that grass light very well, given half a chance.
Kummer, wait! Don’t forget your pants—oh, no, never mind, those are my pants.
Carry on.
Now that’s the spirit, lad! You go on and do it louder. Loud enough to make the clouds rethink their shape. Loud enough that Old Lady Kravitz pokes her head out of the afterlife just to tell you to hush.
[......]
What do you mean she's still alive? That old crow is STILL breathing?
So there IS a devil.
And if you do end up shaking the pillars of heaven, Kummer, you just be sure you put a coaster under ‘em first. Divine architecture tends to wobble something fierce when startled.
You’ve got this, my friend. Rattle the stars if you must.
I’ll be here...trying to remember where I put my left shoe.
thanks for nugget of advice I'm 66yrs old &still struggle with self doubt. a reaffirmation of something I've believe. my sayings are will it hurt anyone, can I physically or intelligently have the ability then why not. the other is you never fail until you stop trying. each attempt is a lesson on how to.
Fantastic views, Leona. =)
I'm with you -- in that as long as I'm not hurting someone else, or standing in their way, why not? Yup, I'm gonna fall on my face and break some eggs, bookshelves and likely my car, but hey, I'm learning along the way!
[Monkey, hand me my spectacles... no, no, the other ones—the ones with the jam smear on the side, yes, thank you.]
Leona, dear, what a marvelous mind you've got tucked in that noggin of yours. Sixty-six and still wrestling with self-doubt?
Well, let me tell you something—Old Lady Kravitz made it to ninety-three and never once stopped arguing with her own shadow.
Called it “shadowboxing for the soul.”
Told me once that her doubts made her interesting...though she also tried to adopt a chicken, so take that with a grain of salt.
But truly—what you said?
Gold.
The questions you ask yourself?
That’s the good kind of wisdom.
The kind carved out of bruises and lessons, not the kind scribbled in ink on some pompous scroll. If your actions are kind, if you’ve got the grit or the gumption to try, then why not, indeed?
And that second saying of yours? You never fail until you stop trying...I might stitch that into my robe, right under the burn mark from that one time I sat too close to a fire spirit.
Life’s all about attempts, love.
Every stumble, every cracked toe on a jagged hope...they’re just steps forward with a bit more flavor.
You’ve got it right, Leona.
Keep walking.
And if you ever doubt again, remember—even the stars twinkle with uncertainty, but they still light up the whole blasted sky.
Proud of you.
That's a great pep talk, Jaime. I love it.
Thanks for forcing us to sit through it, like a pack of unruly, self doubting blades of grass, after a hard winter, and beginning to feel the warm sunshine on our faces.... 😆 (Wait.... Can grass have faces?) 😂
Always seek the sunshine in life. It comes in flashes and is easily reflected into the lives of others
…Monkey, did he just say Jaime?
He did, didn’t he? Mahan’s pink—
No, no, it’s fine, it’s fine. I’m not upset.
Totally serene.
Like a goat in a thunderstorm.
Hy, my boy, I appreciate the sentiment—you’ve got the poetic flair of a bard who’s had one too many sips of fermented turnip juice.
That sunshine and blades of grass bit?
Beautiful.
Slightly alarming, what with the grass faces, but I admire the commitment.
If grass did have faces, I’m fairly certain they’d be frowning at dandelions and gossiping about worms.
Now, just between us, while Jaime is a lovely lad with a beard that might house a small village of chipmunks… the words you’re referencing?
Those came from me.
Chuck.
Morphiophelius Smith.
I’m the ancient wizard-type with the questionable memory but excellent taste in tea.
But look, credit’s a funny thing. I don’t write these words for applause—I write them so souls like yours can remember the sunshine still wants to find you, even after a hard frost.
So here’s a wink and a tip of the hat, Hy—keep reflecting that light. Even if you’re a slightly bewildered blade of grass.
And next time, tell Jaime I said thanks for taking the blame.
Morph, I wanted to send a quick note letting you know that I sneezed hugely while composing that last message, and my fingers must have slipped, causing the mistaken name to appear.
I think it was due to my allergies to the grass faces I was telling you about.
But, to give him his due, Jaime is a rather bright lad, and likely has similar musings, so try not to smother his creative genius.
He does, after all, reflect that grass light very well, given half a chance.
Don't feed him, Hyrum. He'll never stop. 🤨😬
Don't feed Morph, or blades of grass? Or just don't feed blades of grass to good ol' Chuck?
Poor guy needs something much more substantial than grass.
I hear he likes the Full Throttle Upside Down Porcupine burger at the Roadkill Tavern, though. Maybe try one of those, with the curly fries for him. 😂
*gives Chuck a nod and wave, then heads off to 'do it louder'. Maybe loud enough to shake the pillars of heaven? Why not even louder?*
Kummer, wait! Don’t forget your pants—oh, no, never mind, those are my pants.
Carry on.
Now that’s the spirit, lad! You go on and do it louder. Loud enough to make the clouds rethink their shape. Loud enough that Old Lady Kravitz pokes her head out of the afterlife just to tell you to hush.
[......]
What do you mean she's still alive? That old crow is STILL breathing?
So there IS a devil.
And if you do end up shaking the pillars of heaven, Kummer, you just be sure you put a coaster under ‘em first. Divine architecture tends to wobble something fierce when startled.
You’ve got this, my friend. Rattle the stars if you must.
I’ll be here...trying to remember where I put my left shoe.