Tuesday, December 27, 2016

Did you every notice?

Did you ever notice that:
Young souls lean on science
Mature souls lean on faith. 
Old souls like me, prefer long walks 
short talks; 
whistling to hip-hop, 
country, or rock; 
and on occasion, 
tree spotting. 

There! 
On the horizon! 
Oak! 

Sunday, December 25, 2016

What do you want to do when you grow up?

On this Boxing day in Canada, many of us are out searching for the bargains to be had in the retail stores. But some of us may be asking ourselves, what do I want to do when I grow up?

Sure, we ask it when we're kids. I still ask it to myself but people laugh when I do and I wonder why?

Many of us keep on asking it. I've heard it from people of all ages and at all stages of life. 

Unemployed people ask it.

People with rewarding careers ask it.

People who have retired ask it

So why can't we stop asking ourselves: "What do I want to be when I grow up?"

I know that, for me, it's because I don't think I have "grown up" yet.

Another reason I have is it's because I don't want to grow up yet.

At this time of my life, I feel that I should somehow KNOW what I am meant to do with the rest of my life.

Or perhaps I am waiting for a burning bush to show me the way.

No matter when or why you ask this question, the real question is about choosing your purpose and passion in life- a.k.a. figuring out what you want to be when you grow up.  

So finding your passion is a lifelong quest that hopefully as we move through the holidays, you can take the time, to find time to meditate and find an answer to this quest. So my hope for you is that rather than finding that retail bargain, you find the answer to this question on this Boxing day.

Saturday, December 24, 2016

Merry Xmas

MERRY XMAS TO EVERYONE FROM MY FAMILY TO YOUR FAMILY. 



The Night before Xmas

Clement Clarke Moore (1779 - 1863) wrote the poem Twas the night before Christmas also called “A Visit from St. Nicholas" in 1822. It is now the tradition in many families to read the poem every Christmas Eve.

Twas the Night before Christmas Poem

Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the house
Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse.
The stockings were hung by the chimney with care,
In hopes that St Nicholas soon would be there.

The children were nestled all snug in their beds,
While visions of sugar-plums danced in their heads.
And mamma in her ‘kerchief, and I in my cap,
Had just settled our brains for a long winter’s nap.

When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from the bed to see what was the matter.
Away to the window I flew like a flash,
Tore open the shutters and threw up the sash.

The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow
Gave the lustre of mid-day to objects below.
When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But a miniature sleigh, and eight tinny reindeer.

With a little old driver, so lively and quick,
I knew in a moment it must be St Nick.
More rapid than eagles his coursers they came,
And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name!

"Now Dasher! now, Dancer! now, Prancer and Vixen!
On, Comet! On, Cupid! on, on Donner and Blitzen!
To the top of the porch! to the top of the wall!
Now dash away! Dash away! Dash away all!"

As dry leaves that before the wild hurricane fly,
When they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky.
So up to the house-top the coursers they flew,
With the sleigh full of Toys, and St Nicholas too.

And then, in a twinkling, I heard on the roof
The prancing and pawing of each little hoof.
As I drew in my head, and was turning around,
Down the chimney St Nicholas came with a bound.

He was dressed all in fur, from his head to his foot,
And his clothes were all tarnished with ashes and soot.
A bundle of Toys he had flung on his back,
And he looked like a peddler, just opening his pack.

His eyes-how they twinkled! his dimples how merry!
His cheeks were like roses, his nose like a cherry!
His droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow,
And the beard of his chin was as white as the snow.

The stump of a pipe he held tight in his teeth,
And the smoke it encircled his head like a wreath.
He had a broad face and a little round belly,
That shook when he laughed, like a bowlful of jelly!

He was chubby and plump, a right jolly old elf,
And I laughed when I saw him, in spite of myself!
A wink of his eye and a twist of his head,
Soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread.

He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,
And filled all the stockings, then turned with a jerk.
And laying his finger aside of his nose,
And giving a nod, up the chimney he rose!

He sprang to his sleigh, to his team gave a whistle,
And away they all flew like the down of a thistle.
But I heard him exclaim, ‘ere he drove out of sight,
"Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good-night!"

The poem 'Twas the night before Christmas' has redefined our image of Christmas and Santa Claus. Prior to the creation of the story of 'Twas the night before Christmas' St. Nicholas, the patron saint of children, had never been associated with a sleigh or reindeers!

Clement Moore, the author of the poem Twas the night before Christmas, was a reticent man and it is believed that a family friend, Miss H. Butler, sent a copy of the poem to the New York Sentinel who published the poem. The condition of publication was that the author of Twas the night before Christmas was to remain anonymous. 

The first publication date was 23rd December 1823 and it was an immediate success. It was not until 1844 that Clement Clarke Moore claimed ownership when the work was included in a book of his poetry.