continual celebration.


surrounded for a long weekend by big people who choose to live creative lives

 working daily with little people who quite naturally live creative lives

i realize they are the same kind of people

who are, in spite of everything,

open, honest, vulnerable, full of wonder, bravery, creativity, joy, passion, and spirit

i feel such an admiration for them and kinship with them.

“life should be a continual celebration, a festival of lights the whole year round.

only then can you grow up, can you blossom.”


happy diwali to those who celebrate!

61 responses »

  1. I grew up in a very small town where kids could wander (within reason) around the square blocks and through alleys and neighbor’s yards as long as they were home for supper.
    I can’t remember what we did but I do know the words, “Let’s pretend,” were the beginning of every adventure. A stick became a scepter and an old coat became a cape.
    The words, “I’m bored,” were forbidden.

    Liked by 1 person

  2. Sometimes, it’s all too easy to feel alone and beleaguered. I have to remind myself it’s a choice. When I celebrate my friends and family all the creative stuff I love to do suddenly becomes obvious. Thanks for the reminder.

    Liked by 1 person

  3. “I believe the children are our future
    Teach them well and let them lead the way
    Show them all the beauty they possess inside
    Give them a sense of pride to make it easier
    Let the children’s laughter remind us how we used to be”

    Liked by 1 person

  4. I often thought about it. Inside all of us, that child is still alive and wants to live and be lived. Often I think that I am still the same as I have always been, only my appearance changed and my abilities.

    Liked by 1 person

  5. I volunteered to be a literacy partner with two second grade boys on Mondays at the nearby elementary, and today was my second time. I hadn’t been in an elementary school in so many years. Of course, you have to get clearance through locked doors nowadays but oh, the cute little faces and the sweet thin little wrists of arms that turn the pages of Harry the Dirty Dog and Clifford The Big Red Dog. Here I came to read with them, and they blessed me instead. I know being a teacher is exhausting work these days more than ever, but it must surely feed your soul.

    Liked by 1 person

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