a puppy and a husband with strong-but-gentle hands - two components of The Well Lived Life...
I don't own a lot, materially speaking. But I own as much as anyone I know!
I own my faults. Yes, they are mine. Every single one. I speak my mind - too often. I have a sharp wit, but sharp can become cutting. I hate that about myself. I am passionate - but passion can become temper. Full of faults, me. At least I own them, and own up to them. I know of some who own none at all...a miserable lot, they.
I own my strengths. God gave them to me. I am not ashamed of them, and yes, they have made a few people uncomfortable. But no one is well served when I bury what God gave me to invest - either I own it, or I act as though I don't own it, and "to her who hath not, even what she has will be taken away."
Interestingly, I own the little piece of sky above my home. I don't need expansive vistas with expensive tax brackets. My sunset is the same sun that sets anywhere else, and there are colors and glory and glow the same.
I own the plants and flowers that grow around this suburban cottage. Hydrangeas are hydrangeas no matter where they grow, be that castle or cottage. I like mine best, because they are mine.
The best components of a life well-lived are mine for the taking, right here. Wind, rain, fragrance, joy, trees, birds, a garden, music, laughter, good food, and basil....lots of basil. Tomatoes. We make a mean pesto and bruschetta around here, come summertime. All mine.
You see, it isn't the house itself, it is the life you live there. It isn't the stuff you have, it is the stuff you share that makes for the kind of pleasure that you feel all the way down in your stomach. Anyone can live an artful, soulful, complete sort of life without acreage or livestock. Having those things is not a negative thing...you just don't need any of it. Not if you have an imagination and not if you know how to live a well-edited, purposefully-designed life.
Not if you know how to be abased and how to abound, right where you live, right now.
Right here, I dabble in a bit of animal husbandry (puppies, a plethora of large pond fish, a canary and two pocket parrots, all of which require daily love and care), I enjoy the view and sound of a waterfall, pond, and fish, have an outdoor fireplace, small gardens, places to walk, a fruit bearing tree, berry bushes, sunrises, sunsets, I play around with oil painting, interior design, cooking, writing, poetry, philosophy; I own the gentle breezes that meander through this patch of place, and can have a glass of home made lemonade whenever I feel like making it.
Do I really need more? Does anyone? I own a version of almost everything you can find on a fine "estate", and I have created it right here in a typical suburban home. And we share it with everyone we know and love.
That's some large livin'.
I don't own much, but I do own it.
I own my faults. Yes, they are mine. Every single one. I speak my mind - too often. I have a sharp wit, but sharp can become cutting. I hate that about myself. I am passionate - but passion can become temper. Full of faults, me. At least I own them, and own up to them. I know of some who own none at all...a miserable lot, they.
I own my strengths. God gave them to me. I am not ashamed of them, and yes, they have made a few people uncomfortable. But no one is well served when I bury what God gave me to invest - either I own it, or I act as though I don't own it, and "to her who hath not, even what she has will be taken away."
Interestingly, I own the little piece of sky above my home. I don't need expansive vistas with expensive tax brackets. My sunset is the same sun that sets anywhere else, and there are colors and glory and glow the same.
I own the plants and flowers that grow around this suburban cottage. Hydrangeas are hydrangeas no matter where they grow, be that castle or cottage. I like mine best, because they are mine.
The best components of a life well-lived are mine for the taking, right here. Wind, rain, fragrance, joy, trees, birds, a garden, music, laughter, good food, and basil....lots of basil. Tomatoes. We make a mean pesto and bruschetta around here, come summertime. All mine.
You see, it isn't the house itself, it is the life you live there. It isn't the stuff you have, it is the stuff you share that makes for the kind of pleasure that you feel all the way down in your stomach. Anyone can live an artful, soulful, complete sort of life without acreage or livestock. Having those things is not a negative thing...you just don't need any of it. Not if you have an imagination and not if you know how to live a well-edited, purposefully-designed life.
Not if you know how to be abased and how to abound, right where you live, right now.
Right here, I dabble in a bit of animal husbandry (puppies, a plethora of large pond fish, a canary and two pocket parrots, all of which require daily love and care), I enjoy the view and sound of a waterfall, pond, and fish, have an outdoor fireplace, small gardens, places to walk, a fruit bearing tree, berry bushes, sunrises, sunsets, I play around with oil painting, interior design, cooking, writing, poetry, philosophy; I own the gentle breezes that meander through this patch of place, and can have a glass of home made lemonade whenever I feel like making it.
Do I really need more? Does anyone? I own a version of almost everything you can find on a fine "estate", and I have created it right here in a typical suburban home. And we share it with everyone we know and love.
That's some large livin'.
I don't own much, but I do own it.
