This Is How It Begins . . .

So, I'm lying around on my back like I always do -- same old ceiling, same old people leaning down and saying weird stuff -- and then I get an idea: hey, what if I rolled over?

So I give it a try . . .

Whoa! That's scary . . . everything's upside down. Time for some serious re-booting.

And then it hits me what I've done . . . this is how it begins . . . next I'm crawling and then I'm walking and before I know it I'm in school and getting married and I've got a job and a mortgage and a political stance and acid reflux and kids and in-laws and . . .

I think I feel a little nauseous.

Okay, so I've never been the type to thrust baby pictures on people. And I wouldn't be doing it now (though young Asher here is certainly pretty darn cute) but I think these pictures say something about the human condition.

My niece sent me a video of Asher who has just learned to roll over. It totally cracked me up because of the faces he makes. I tried to catch them on the screen captures above but I couldn't get the best ones. There's a moment when he kind of shakes and I swear, he is re-booting.

The video is just over a minute long. Do check it out and see if you see what I saw in his expressions.

Two Sides of the Coin

Yesterday afternoon I attended a memorial service for my friend Eileen. As I drove home, I thought about the curious balance of life and death.

I had just said goodbye to an old friend, departed after a long and well-lived life; I'd just received pictures of my new nephew -Asher Andrew Walton, new born Friday, with all of life awaiting him.

Sunrise . . . sunset -- they follow one another in a never-ending round.

And how perfect that the Great Blue Heron -- my personal symbol of eternity (he lurks in the river of Elizabeth's world in the present and the past) -- should be waiting for me when I crossed the river on my way back home. . .

Hello and Goodbye.
Go in peace; Arrive in joy.