Fearless – Without fear; brave. (American Heritage Dictionary)
The word fearless has been overused, thus becoming a “fashion” word, a word that people tend to use without discrimination, a cliché. It has become almost meaningless, just as the word love, used with disregard and abandonment (of meaning).
The American Heritage Dictionary defines it as “without fear.” Without fear does not mean in the absence of fear. One can be truly scared of something or a situation, and be/act fearless in the presence of the object of fear. There is no “fearless” without having known fear. It is a word that I take seriously, rather than “in fashion” because it pertains to something deeper than the outside persona, but more of the internal self, of the condition of the soul, and even spirit.
Fearless is rooted in spirituality, in the condition of the heart. I have been truly scared in some occasions but fearless at the same time. It has only been possible because my strength has come from Jesus, and not from my own efforts or disposition. Faith has a lot to do with being fearless, but also knowing that your supernatural strength comes from God, and that changes the whole meaning of the word.
“For God Had not given us a spirit of fear and timidity, but of power, love, and self-discipline.”
I try to find beauty in the ordinary, the day’s in and outs. A walk to the mailbox across the road while an everyday task is ever changing. I think it amazing and beautiful that a simple daily short walk is never the same when I care to look. God’s presence is in the little details that surrounds us, and the more I care to look, the more grateful and in awe I am. Here are some October’s treasures I found the other day.
I am sure that there were more treasures to be found, but I was just in and out, picking up some mail. God is good.
From time to time, my husband will make a wooden piece reminiscent of old days gone, when things seemed simpler, and things were handmade. It ends up on our shop – The Owl, Book & Candle. He loves working with wood; I think it is his call, although he loves everything about cars as well. His pieces are truly handmade. Over the weekend, he made this adorable pull toy, a kitty cat that he painted like one of our cats. All materials for this piece are recycled, the one thing that we try to do with most of our pieces. I am liking this one very much. When he retires, I can visualize him tinkering with pieces of wood and creating an array of lovely pieces reminiscent of yesteryear.
Above his desk, he has this picture and another one of the love of his life, not me, but a 1987 Fiero GT.
Fulfillment comes in many ways, and different for many people. Sometimes, we listen to the voices of the world telling us do this or do that, pursue this not that, and so much more. Sometimes, we become confused and feel purposeless because of this (I have been there at one point). To God, everyone of His children is important. Every person has something to give. The more we learn by living and by faith also, the more we are able to give and bless others, no matter the size of the contribution. In God’s eyes it is all valuable when it is given out with love and care.
There have been a few rainy days, two good soakers, and cool weather seems to be settling down. It seems that the veggie garden is done, not a good year; most plants died or did not produce. While collecting the last of the veggies, I spotted a few caterpillars that have made the garden their home. We cut the stems and relocated them to another part of the property, not wanting to harm them.
And as one season ends another starts, and for me, the end of a dry spell. The other day, while sitting, I had an urge to write, almost as an urgent call, so I grabbed pen and paper and was able to write an entire chapter; it has been quite a long time, but the dry spell is broken.
A few weeks left of summer … welcome Autumn! I am ready, and over the past few days, I have enjoyed a few cool days and nights around here. It has motivated me to do a few things around the porch, transitioning seasons, as well as a delicious meal using what we have collected from the veggie garden, although it hasn’t been much this year due to the hot and dry weather.
Gardening was challenging and not bountiful this year, and many plants are done by now, hence why transitioning to autumn is a natural next step for me, as there seem to be less chores around here for some reason. There were fewer cuts of grass; it just wasn’t growing fast, but my husband was happy about that I guess. In the meantime, there are a few projects that are up in the air, waiting to be done as time and money allows. I will share a few here. Hope you enjoyed this post.
It is almost September, and by now, I should have collected several baskets of veggies, but not this year. The dry and hot weather in my area has made growing food challenging – no tomatoes yet, no giant sunflowers, and no signs of the beginnings of a pumpkin or even a cantaloupe – Where have all the veggies gone? Some of the plants died, even when we were watering once a day every other day or two. I only collected this so far, and even the lettuce, the easiest thing to grow, did not do so abundantly.
And that is it! Tomorrow it will be the first day of September, and I hope I can get at least a couple tomatoes before cold weather hits. The plants are not looking too promising, but I hope there is still a bit of time, although I think it will be slim pickings, and I will be grateful for it.
Unrelated but lovely.
They have their food, they pollinate, and we will have ours as well; not so unrelated now.
Sometimes, you just don’t know what pieces of wood are going to tell you. The other day, I was looking through some pieces of scrap wood that my husband saved for me to use in future projects. I came across a couple of pieces that whispered to me what they wanted to become. As soon as I looked at them an image in the wood grain appeared; so I listened.
You never know what wood is going to whisper, might as well listen. Hope you enjoyed this post.
Everywhere we look, there is life going on, even at the microscopic level. Spend a few minutes outdoors and look around. From foliage to tiny critters moving around and about, our existence is full of life; isn’t that wonderful? I have been observing a Mama Bird caring for her babies for the past three weeks or so, and I have avoided using the side entrance so I would not disturb them. At first, I thought there were two abandoned nests in each of the flower pots hanging at each side of the entrance, although one of the nests seemed as if it was started and left halfway through undone. It is a shady and cool area, and I have not been able to grow anything on those pots despite several attempts, so this year I placed artificial flowers inside. I noticed that the halfway done nest disappeared and the other one seemed bigger and fuller. I assumed it was being built, and the nest material was being used, so I let it be. Later on, I would see Mama Bird flying back and forth, and chirping; later on, I heard a few chirps but did not want to go near the area in fear that I would scare the birds. On Saturday, I did not hear anything, or see any movement, and on Sunday, I discovered an abandoned nest. Wanting to preserve this lovely memory, I sat down and attempted to paint the flower pot with a few watercolor pencils I have around.
It was relaxing, and I preserved a beautiful memory. I used to draw and paint when I was a kid, and for some reason that I cannot recall, I suddenly stopped. As a young adult, I tried to get back to it but was hesitant for some unexplained reason that puzzles me and I cannot comprehend. In my late twenties, I even bought an easel, several types of paints, and other materials but always felt something stopping me, and it all sat waiting for me to pick it up. I carried the stuff from place to place. On my last move, I got rid of 70 percent of my stuff, but for some reason, I could not let go of the painting materials. I had attempted a few drawings and paintings, on and off, but It wasn’t until a few years back before my last move that I started, and I pushed myself to paint something, despite my “hesitation.” It has been very diluted and sporadically, rudimentary, but I am feeling a bit more at ease with it. I cannot recall why I stopped, or anything negative associated with painting or drawing, other than a teacher in third grade making a big deal in front of the class because I painted blue hair on a coloring book. Another teacher telling me in class that it wasn’t me who did the drawing on a novel we were reading in 7th grade (we were supposed to draw or paint a scene), even when it was all me. So I have no clue as why I stopped painting suddenly, but I intend to keep on painting something from now on, and enjoying it. For some reason, it feels as if I picked up where I left off. No Picasso here, just the joy of it. Life goes on in ways more than one.