Set in a world torn apart, where man enslaves his fellow man and freedom remains elusive, The Power of One is the moving story of one young man’s search for the love that binds friends, the passion that binds lovers, and the realization that it takes only one to change the world. A weak and friendless boy growing up in South Africa during World War II, Peekay turns to two older men, one black and one white, to show him how to find the courage to dream, to succeed, to triumph over a world when all seems lost, and to inspire him to summon up the most irresistible force of all: the Power of One. –Goodreads
The space of not knowing something is a little bit scary, but it is excellent, because the possibilities that I have at my fingertips then are limitless. – Jane Filer
Visit Jane Filer’s Webpage
MJ of Emjayandthem
After several days we moved Mom back to her house and I saw a change in her that I hadn’t expected: I saw her at home, in her element, and back in control. I watched as she whipped her oxygen cord around like a lariat and laughed when I got myself caught in it.
I delighted in the fact that it was her little face that I kissed good night and her sweet smile greeting me morning after morning. And when I caught myself standing at her sink washing vegetables or at her range simmering supper, I realized that I’d come home, too.
It wasn’t just that I’d come home to the place I’d grown up — but that I’d come home to a role she’d taught me — one I’ve grown familiar with over the years: that of being useful, of having a purpose, of offering up my assistance with a heaping helping of good cheer…
Read the full story at Emjayandthem
The heart is a bloom
Shoots up through the stony ground
There’s no room
No space to rent in this town…
It’s a beautiful day
Sky falls, you feel like
It’s a beautiful day
Don’t let it get away
More from U2
This is what life does. It lets you walk up to
the store to buy breakfast and the paper, on a
stiff knee. It lets you choose the way you have
your eggs, your coffee. Then it sits a fisherman
down beside you at the counter who say, Last night,
the channel was full of starfish. And you wonder,
is this a message, finally, or just another day?
Life lets you take the dog for a walk down to the
pond, where whole generations of biological
processes are boiling beneath the mud. Reeds
speak to you of the natural world: they whisper,
they sing. And herons pass by. Are you old
enough to appreciate the moment? Too old?
There is movement beneath the water, but it
may be nothing. There may be nothing going on.
And then life suggests that you remember the
years you ran around, the years you developed
a shocking lifestyle, advocated careless abandon,
owned a chilly heart. Upon reflection, you are
genuinely surprised to find how quiet you have
become. And then life lets you go home to think
about all this. Which you do, for quite a long time.
Later, you wake up beside your old love, the one
who never had any conditions, the one who waited
you out. This is life’s way of letting you know that
you are lucky. (It won’t give you smart or brave,
so you’ll have to settle for lucky.) Because you
were born at a good time. Because you were able
to listen when people spoke to you. Because you
stopped when you should have and started again.
So life lets you have a sandwich, and pie for your
late night dessert. (Pie for the dog, as well.) And
then life sends you back to bed, to dreamland,
while outside, the starfish drift through the channel,
with smiles on their starry faces as they head
out to deep water, to the far and boundless sea.
–More works by Eleanor Lerman
E. B. White
“What’s miraculous about a spider’s web?” said Mrs. Arable. “I don’t see why you say a web is a miracle-it’s just a web.”
“Ever try to spin one?” asked Dr. Dorian.
Find Charlotte’s Web on Goodreads
I wanted to offer a piece that gave reverence to that reinterring of both the physical body and the spirit… Even though the Native Americans’ remains were being reinterred into the earth, I wanted to create a metaphor of them also being interred into the sky… I wanted to do a piece that interacted with the landscape and with the history, both sensitively and with reverence and purpose.– Bethany Shorb
Every time we experience a near miss, we glimpse the world as it would have been, for better or worse, and then we are left to survive or thrive with what is.
Yesterday, in traffic, I was cut off by a stereotype. A silver haired woman in a gold Cadillac decided that my lane looked preferable and she was going there no matter who was already traveling in it. I hit the brakes and the horn at the same time and as my heart accelerated and then slowed, I began thinking about near-misses.
My driving record is hardly spotless, but it’s not terrible either. In fact, if you are not a deer or a light pole, you probably have little to fear from my mama minivan. All the same, when I think about the dangers of cars, what I concentrate on with the highest intensity is the almost-wrecks. The times that through skill, or more likely dumb luck, I’ve managed to avoid a life-altering, if not life-ending catastrophe.
These, I think are my favorite stories. I start them, “Did I ever tell you about the time I nearly killed a cop?” Or “You know, I once almost went under a semi.” What I love about these stories is that there is plenty of drama, fear, horror, and suspense. But in the end, you know and I know it’s going to turn out fine. I know because I was there. You know because I’m not telling you the story from beyond the grave or prison.
These are the good near misses. The things that could have ended terribly, but instead turned out okay. The time I caught the kitchen on fire and nearly burned down the house. The time I accidentally overdrew my bank account by nearly $1,000 and almost lost everything. The time I almost lost Brynna in Kohl’s. The time I almost forgot to get Maren from the babysitter. At the end of each of those days there was the delicious mixed emotion of truly knowing what you have to lose and how close you are every day to losing it.
There are bad near misses. The things that should have gone beautifully, but ended badly. The time I nearly had a son. The time I nearly caught the door before it shut on Maren’s hand. The time I almost got a really great job. The time I almost knew when to leave. These are not stories I like to tell. And the end of these days were filled with a deep-seeded regret.
But what the good and bad near misses share, and why they are vital to our lives, is that they are a peek into a different life. I’m sure you’ve all heard and read the theory that there are a million universes parallel to our own just like ours, but for one small change. Perhaps that’s what we see. Every time we experience a near miss, we glimpse the world as it would have been, for better or worse, and then we are left to survive or thrive with what is.
If you believe, as I do, that everything happens for a reason and that every action helps to build the person you need to be for something down the line, then I suppose these near misses are checkpoints on the journey. “Ah,” the voice in the sky seems to say, “Before we see what’s behind your door, let’s take a peek at what you are passing up.” Sometimes the choice was yours, sometimes it wasn’t. Sometimes it was wise, sometimes it wasn’t.
What is inevitable is that this time won’t be your last. You will stand on that stage again, casting your mind’s eye into a future that cannot possibly exist. Because there will always be sharp right turns and the whiz of a bullet parting your hair.
–Reposted with permission from Notes From a Scattered Mind
Dave Matthews Band
Don’t give up
I know you can see
All the world and the mess that were making
Can’t give up
And hope God will intercede
Come on back
Imagine that we could get it together
Stand up for what we need to be
More from the Dave Matthews Band