TURTLE MUSE
Leaving the safety and security of your shell
Turltemuse.com
I FEEL GOOD, I FEEL GREAT, I FEEL WONDERFUL!
This is Bob, my Worry Turtle. I named him after Bob Wiley, the neurotic character Bill Murray played in "What About Bob?" Bob was always worried about something: "What if I have to go to the bathroom and I can't find one and my bladder explodes?" (It never did.)
Bob was agoraphobic; whenever he was forced to leave the house he would rub his forehead and repeat, "I feel good, I feel great, I feel wonderful."
I repeated that line to myself this morning. The past few days I've been feeling really low, uninspired about my work, worried about how we're going to afford my husband's looming hip surgery - basically functioning in that "I can't think of a single thing that would make me happy right now" mode. Let's just say I've been a real joy to be around lately.
So this morning when not even my steaming cup of java happiness could lift my spirits, I figured I'd take a walk. Azaleas blooming, dogwoods in full color and with every step I'm mumbling to myself, "I feel good, I feel great, I feel wonderful."
As I came around the corner I saw an elderly man shuffling out to his mailbox and when he saw me, his face lit up as he called out an enthusiastic "Hello!" When I responded with a polite, "How are you?" he answered with a big smile on his face, "Fantastic!"
"I can tell," I replied.
"You probably know why," he said.
"No," I said, shaking my head and thinking about how long it was going to take to get my heart rate back up after what would certainly be a delay in my pitiful little attempt at exercise. Earlier in the morning I had prayed that my life would exhibit more of the fruits of the spirit.....love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, etc, so I sensed this was a divine set-up.
He was thrilled to have an audience. "At one time in my life I was paralyzed," he said and went on to tell me about how when he was in the service in Austria, an army vehicle ran into him and he hit his head on a boulder when he landed.
"I was so fortunate. One of my buddies was dating an Austrian girl and her mother was determined that I wouldn't convalesce in the Army hospital, which was nothing more than a big barn."
The woman took him to her home and cared for him, feeding and bathing him until he recovered. "To this day I can see her in my mind and it still brings tears to my eyes," he said, as his eyes welled up.
He went on to tell me about his life as an accountant and how at one time he was an elder in his church, making visitations to shut-ins. "Now I need somebody to come visit me," he said. He told me he spends a lot of time doing crossword puzzles. "My wife bought me a big dictionary," he said, with a twinkle in his eye.
We said goodbye and I resumed my walk, thinking about all the things that have had me down lately. And I remembered how when I was little I used to get in trouble for pouting. My mom would say my lower lip stuck out so far I could catch rain drops with it.
As I walked back into the house, my husband hobbled to the door with his cane and asked me how was my walk.
"Fantastic!" I replied.
NOISES OFF
THIS TURTLE WIND CHIME MAKES ITS HOME IN MY SECRET TURTLE GARDEN
I've always wondered whether turtles can hear, so I decided to "sound out" the experts. Turns out that although they don't have an outer ear, they can detect low frequency sounds and pick up vibrations, but they don't depend on hearing to any great extent.
It must be lovely to live in a quieter world. I love the sounds of silence but find it more and more difficult to find any. There's lots of talk about how we're so bombarded with words but you don't "hear" much about how LOUD the world has become. I'm beginning to feel like a whiner on the subject, but really, ear pollution is killing me.
Here's my list of sound pet-peeves:
Pet Sounds - Incessant barking, especially from my own shrill canine
Cell phones in public spaces, especially speaker phones - I'm really not all that interested in hearing about your sex life, thanks
Radio - I don't want some imaginary DJ choosing what songs I want to listen to
Movie Theaters - Unbelievably, obnoxiously loud, literally hurts my ears
Home Theater Systems with Surround Sound - Ours is so loud that when my husband was watching the scene in "Astronaut Farmer" where the homemade rocket lifts off and shatters the windows of the farmhouse, I thought ours were going to shatter, too. My grandson was so scared, he jumped out of the bathtub and ran down the hall naked
Car Stereos - Isn't there a law? Shouldn't there be?
Bass from Car Stereos - Is that music or has an alien invaded my head?
Obscene rap lyrics coming from car stereos - I'm seriously thinking of packing a gun
Obscene rap lyrics coming from car stereos with little children inside - This is child abuse
The Four Banger Cars in my Neighborhood - They make the hair on the back of my neck stand up
My Next Door Neighbor's Motorcycle - Hey, Mr. Crotch Rocket, I'm pretty sure you could exit the neighborhood without circling three times at the speed of light
Background Music at Borders Books - Maybe they're just trying to sell CD's, but if so, they should get rid of their overstuffed chairs, because it's impossible to read with the nerve-jangling music they play
Talk Radio - Sorry, people, but you know what they say about opinions.....Keep them to yourself
Trash Pickup before 7 am - Or I could set my alarm clock to an acid rock station
Over the Stove Exhaust Fans - I'd almost rather be hot, and anybody who knows me, knows how I hate being hot
Bombing Practice at Fort Bragg - When I was in Southern Pines on a writing retreat, they went at it night and day and I didn't manage to write a thing except this. Inspiration comes from the strangest places.
MISSING IN ACTION
Miss me? I've missed me, too. I've been hiding out for awhile, nursing my wounds, which was one of the reasons I started this blog in the first place. The goal was to stick my neck out there and write, no matter what I was feeling. So, I'm human. Or not. Maybe I'm reptilian.
I feel like I've been moving at a turtle's pace lately, so slow that I've lost all perspective of my surroundings. Actually, it's been more like hibernation. Even though I've barely emerged from my shell (office) in weeks, I don't have much to show for it, except a little pile of belly button lint from all the navel gazing. It's time to come out.
Pretty ferocious, huh? ARGGH!
One of the more precious little gems of my turtle collection.
NOWHERE MAN
This is one of the turtle stepping stones that makes up a path through my Secret Turtle Garden. Of course, my turtle garden is so small, the path doesn't really lead anywhere, but the stepping stones still look cool.
Do you ever think about the path you're on? Sometimes it seems like I'm getting nowhere fast, which is par for the course for a turtle lover, I guess. You know how it is - you look around and it seems like everybody else has arrived but you haven't even figured out where it is you're supposed to go. On days like that the only place I want to go is back in my shell where it's safe and cozy and warm. I can always hang road maps on the wall and pretend.
Someone told me once that I was a pioneer, a trailblazer. I just laughed but inwardly I groaned. The thing about being a trailblazer is that you don't get to travel on the road you make, you're just clearing out the brush for someone else. A lofty goal, but it didn't much appeal to me at the time. I wanted "Easy Street," not a roadway in the wilderness. The funny thing is, when you do a Mapquest for Easy Street, it will take you right through the wilderness every time.
The message out there is that to succeed, you gotta' have a plan, man. You have to chart a course, plot your future, be strategic. No meandering, no side trips - it's point A to point B or you'll get left behind. It's a hard message to ignore. Except the people I meet who have the most interesting lives didn't have long range goals, never even dreamed they'd be doing what they're doing now. They simply did what was in front of them and gave it all they had.
I have my goals and dreams, but it seems like the more I focus on making the future happen, the less I enjoy today. Brennan Manning once noted that the word "nowhere" can also be read "now here."
Next time it seems like I'm getting nowhere fast I'm going to sit back and enjoy it.
A CHINK IN MY ARMOR
The Big Brute of My Turtle Collection:
When I saw this guy at the nursery, I knew he needed a home in my "Secret Turtle Garden" in the backyard. Pretty tough looking, isn't he? He reminds of a big snapping turtle I came across when we lived in Tampa. I heard this weird sound as I was taking my walk and there was a large snapping turtle standing on its hind legs, hissing and lunging at a cat. And I thought the turtle's only defense was withdrawing into its shell. That image has always stuck with me, the idea that all of us are capable of anger and will ferociously defend our territory when threatened.
That pretty much sums up my demeanor the past week: reared up, ready to defend my rights and attack anyone who dared trespass. I had built up a wall of self-protection as impenetrable as the iron shell of the turtle in my garden, except I didn't have any pretty scrolls decorating my armor. I was big, I was bad, I was miserable and I wanted everyone else to be miserable too. Misery loves having dinner guests.
Although everything in me wanted to pick a fight, there was a small gnawing in my conscience that maybe I was fighting for the wrong thing. What if instead of fighting against the person I had deemed my adversary, I decided to fight for them. To be guided by mercy instead of justice. That's not an original thought, by the way, I think somebody else said it first: Do Unto Others as You Would Have Them Do Unto You. Ouch. Even with the armor, that hurt.
It wasn't easy, but I ultimately chose to put down my weapons. You know what I'm talking about. The offensive weapons: snarls, eye-rolling, caustic comebacks. And the defensive weapons which are actually worse: avoidance and emotional withdrawal, which I call "Going Turtle," of "If I don't see you, you can't hurt me, but I can hurt you."
Not to deny the hurt that started the fight - that was real and needed to be addressed, but to make reconciliation the goal rather than drawing a line in the sand and saying "mine." It's amazing how easy it is to mistake a fellow soldier for the enemy.
When I saw this guy at the nursery, I knew he needed a home in my "Secret Turtle Garden" in the backyard. Pretty tough looking, isn't he? He reminds of a big snapping turtle I came across when we lived in Tampa. I heard this weird sound as I was taking my walk and there was a large snapping turtle standing on its hind legs, hissing and lunging at a cat. And I thought the turtle's only defense was withdrawing into its shell. That image has always stuck with me, the idea that all of us are capable of anger and will ferociously defend our territory when threatened.
That pretty much sums up my demeanor the past week: reared up, ready to defend my rights and attack anyone who dared trespass. I had built up a wall of self-protection as impenetrable as the iron shell of the turtle in my garden, except I didn't have any pretty scrolls decorating my armor. I was big, I was bad, I was miserable and I wanted everyone else to be miserable too. Misery loves having dinner guests.
Although everything in me wanted to pick a fight, there was a small gnawing in my conscience that maybe I was fighting for the wrong thing. What if instead of fighting against the person I had deemed my adversary, I decided to fight for them. To be guided by mercy instead of justice. That's not an original thought, by the way, I think somebody else said it first: Do Unto Others as You Would Have Them Do Unto You. Ouch. Even with the armor, that hurt.
It wasn't easy, but I ultimately chose to put down my weapons. You know what I'm talking about. The offensive weapons: snarls, eye-rolling, caustic comebacks. And the defensive weapons which are actually worse: avoidance and emotional withdrawal, which I call "Going Turtle," of "If I don't see you, you can't hurt me, but I can hurt you."
Not to deny the hurt that started the fight - that was real and needed to be addressed, but to make reconciliation the goal rather than drawing a line in the sand and saying "mine." It's amazing how easy it is to mistake a fellow soldier for the enemy.
The Opera and Velvet Dresses
I'm going to the Opera tonight and once again I've waited until the last minute to find a dress, so I'll do what I always do and head for my favorite "store" - my daughter Johanna's closet. And I'll have to listen to her tell me I really need to buy some clothes. I have clothes, just not fancy clothes; I've never been comfortable with fancy.
Both my daughters on the other hand, love to dress up and wear girly stuff. Lauren even likes to give fancy gifts - check out this turtle she gave me (put your sunglass on first):
I dread going to "grown-up" functions; grown-up women own cocktail dresses, and they say, "what, this old thing?" without batting an eye.
I do have one dress that's appropriate for the opera, a sexy black number I picked up at TJ Maxx a month or so ago, but of course I didn't bother to buy the proper foundation garments to wear underneath. I like to say "foundation garment" because it reminds me of that old hymn "How Firm a Foundation" which always makes me giggle when we sing it in church.
No matter what I wear I feel like an imposter - it's like I'm afraid someone's going to ask to see my invitation to the ball and then smirk because they know I don't have one. It's insane, I know, but I always feel like I'm 13 again, at my first Christmas dance, the one where all the girls (meaning my three best friends) wore velvet dresses and I wore a skirt and blouse I raided from my mom's closet and then imagined my friends saying under their breath, "Did you see what she's wearing? Poor thing."
I tell myself it's what's inside that counts, beauty is in the eye of the beholder, I am filled with light and grace. Yeah, right, just call me Grace. Have you seen my knees? I have more bruises than a bag of marked-down apples. You see what I'm up against.
Newsflash: I'm not in junior high, no one is looking at me. Somehow that's not much of a consolation, because deep down I want to be noticed and admired. I'm 54 years old with four grandchildren and have the self-confidence of a teenager. "Pay attention to me!" as my daughter used to say.
I read somewhere that an immature person walks into a room and says "Here I am!" A mature person walks in and says "There you are!" It helps if you're wearing velvet and don't jiggle when you walk.
The obvious solution is to just buy myself a velvet dress and be done with it, but in a size 16? You could re-upholster a sofa with all that fabric. It's not about the dress, anyway.
The apostle Paul talks about "putting on a heart of compassion, kindness, humility, gentleness and patience," insinuating it doesn't come with the package, it's not natural. And then he says, "beyond all these things, put on love....." The meaning is to "clothe" yourself, as with a garment. It's only when we're clothed in God's love that we can walk into a room and say, "There you are!" It's like wearing a velvet dress. In a size 2.
Both my daughters on the other hand, love to dress up and wear girly stuff. Lauren even likes to give fancy gifts - check out this turtle she gave me (put your sunglass on first):
I dread going to "grown-up" functions; grown-up women own cocktail dresses, and they say, "what, this old thing?" without batting an eye.
I do have one dress that's appropriate for the opera, a sexy black number I picked up at TJ Maxx a month or so ago, but of course I didn't bother to buy the proper foundation garments to wear underneath. I like to say "foundation garment" because it reminds me of that old hymn "How Firm a Foundation" which always makes me giggle when we sing it in church.
No matter what I wear I feel like an imposter - it's like I'm afraid someone's going to ask to see my invitation to the ball and then smirk because they know I don't have one. It's insane, I know, but I always feel like I'm 13 again, at my first Christmas dance, the one where all the girls (meaning my three best friends) wore velvet dresses and I wore a skirt and blouse I raided from my mom's closet and then imagined my friends saying under their breath, "Did you see what she's wearing? Poor thing."
I tell myself it's what's inside that counts, beauty is in the eye of the beholder, I am filled with light and grace. Yeah, right, just call me Grace. Have you seen my knees? I have more bruises than a bag of marked-down apples. You see what I'm up against.
Newsflash: I'm not in junior high, no one is looking at me. Somehow that's not much of a consolation, because deep down I want to be noticed and admired. I'm 54 years old with four grandchildren and have the self-confidence of a teenager. "Pay attention to me!" as my daughter used to say.
I read somewhere that an immature person walks into a room and says "Here I am!" A mature person walks in and says "There you are!" It helps if you're wearing velvet and don't jiggle when you walk.
The obvious solution is to just buy myself a velvet dress and be done with it, but in a size 16? You could re-upholster a sofa with all that fabric. It's not about the dress, anyway.
The apostle Paul talks about "putting on a heart of compassion, kindness, humility, gentleness and patience," insinuating it doesn't come with the package, it's not natural. And then he says, "beyond all these things, put on love....." The meaning is to "clothe" yourself, as with a garment. It's only when we're clothed in God's love that we can walk into a room and say, "There you are!" It's like wearing a velvet dress. In a size 2.
Mexican Lace Turtle With the Broken Neck
This little guy is my favorite - I bought him in Wilmington at a bonsai nursery; he was perched next to one of those little miniature trees and I asked if he was for sale. The owner said yes - ten dollars. A little steep, but I always like to bring back a turtle when I take a trip, so I bought him. When we got in the car, I put my glasses on so I could admire him and realized his head had been broken completely off and put back together with some type of blue expoxy. I'd been totally ripped off, but told myself I'd rescued the turtle from his evil owner. Isn't he cute?
I couldn't help wondering how he'd broken his neck - did he forget to look both ways when he crossed the road?
The Perils of Being Overly Cautious
The first time I crossed the street by myself, my mother uttered the same three words that mother's have uttered since there were streets to cross: "LOOK BOTH WAYS." Good advice. On the street as well as in life, what doesn't hit us from one direction often barrels down on us from the other.
The turtle is the perfect poster child for being cautious- slow and steady wins the race, right? Lots of the time, yes. As much as I appreciate my own turtle qualities, there have been times that I've been too cautious. Like the day I almost killed my mother-in-law.
That was the day I learned a painful lesson: Being too cautious can be just as disastrous as being too impulsive. The overly cautious turtle person's thinking goes something like this" "Should I or shouldn't I: cross the road, take the job, start that business, marry the girl, etc." Answer: "I don't know; it seems like a good idea now, but what if I do it and then..............." Complete with your own personal catastrophe.
The day I almost killed my mother-in-law began innocently enough. She'd come to visit us in Tampa and I decided to be a good daughter-in-law and take her shopping in the big city. Unfortunately I'd forgotten Mom didn't like to shop. Frustrated that my attempts at bonding were lost on her, I decided it was time to head home. By then it was rush hour and the southbound traffic was backed up at the light. We needed to go north.
I've always hated making left hand turns out into traffic, but the alternative in this case was to get in the slow moving lane and inch along until I could find somewhere to turn around. It seemed like the sissy way out and so I just waited, hoping there would be a break in the flow of traffic.
Just then a car in the lane closest to me slowed to a stop and motioned for me to pull out, his gesture signifying the coast was clear. "So you say," I thought to myself as I waved back a gesture that meant, "Thanks, I'll wait."
He persisted, waving harder this time. "It's ok," he mouthed. I gulped and saw that he was right. I inched out, "looking both ways" to be sure. Telling myself "be careful, take it slow, it will be ok, easy now," I crept forward a bit further, then a little more. Congratulating myself for being so cautiously brave, I triumphantly turned the wheel right into the path of a pick-up truck that had changed lanes just as I finally committed to my left turn. I never saw him coming.
My car was totaled, mo mother-in-law vowed she'd never set foot in a car with me again (she hasn't) but other than that only my pride was hurt.
Moral of the story: Look both ways, but when the coast is clear, make your move. As countless turtles have learned the hard way: He who hesitates is road kill.
I couldn't help wondering how he'd broken his neck - did he forget to look both ways when he crossed the road?
The Perils of Being Overly Cautious
The first time I crossed the street by myself, my mother uttered the same three words that mother's have uttered since there were streets to cross: "LOOK BOTH WAYS." Good advice. On the street as well as in life, what doesn't hit us from one direction often barrels down on us from the other.
The turtle is the perfect poster child for being cautious- slow and steady wins the race, right? Lots of the time, yes. As much as I appreciate my own turtle qualities, there have been times that I've been too cautious. Like the day I almost killed my mother-in-law.
That was the day I learned a painful lesson: Being too cautious can be just as disastrous as being too impulsive. The overly cautious turtle person's thinking goes something like this" "Should I or shouldn't I: cross the road, take the job, start that business, marry the girl, etc." Answer: "I don't know; it seems like a good idea now, but what if I do it and then..............." Complete with your own personal catastrophe.
The day I almost killed my mother-in-law began innocently enough. She'd come to visit us in Tampa and I decided to be a good daughter-in-law and take her shopping in the big city. Unfortunately I'd forgotten Mom didn't like to shop. Frustrated that my attempts at bonding were lost on her, I decided it was time to head home. By then it was rush hour and the southbound traffic was backed up at the light. We needed to go north.
I've always hated making left hand turns out into traffic, but the alternative in this case was to get in the slow moving lane and inch along until I could find somewhere to turn around. It seemed like the sissy way out and so I just waited, hoping there would be a break in the flow of traffic.
Just then a car in the lane closest to me slowed to a stop and motioned for me to pull out, his gesture signifying the coast was clear. "So you say," I thought to myself as I waved back a gesture that meant, "Thanks, I'll wait."
He persisted, waving harder this time. "It's ok," he mouthed. I gulped and saw that he was right. I inched out, "looking both ways" to be sure. Telling myself "be careful, take it slow, it will be ok, easy now," I crept forward a bit further, then a little more. Congratulating myself for being so cautiously brave, I triumphantly turned the wheel right into the path of a pick-up truck that had changed lanes just as I finally committed to my left turn. I never saw him coming.
My car was totaled, mo mother-in-law vowed she'd never set foot in a car with me again (she hasn't) but other than that only my pride was hurt.
Moral of the story: Look both ways, but when the coast is clear, make your move. As countless turtles have learned the hard way: He who hesitates is road kill.
Giant Turtle Slippers
My speaking engagement went great last night - I always love it when the special feature is a fashion show; it's the perfect lead-in for me to show off my giant, fuzzy turtle slippers. When the show is over and I'm introduced, I say, "You know, I've always wanted to model, but there just isn't much demand for chubby petites! But it just occurred to me, I'm up here with the microphone - I can do whatever I want!" Then I explain that it's very important for your "look" to be coordinated from head to toe. Shoes make the outfit.
Next I step out from behind the podium wearing these ghastly things on my feet and proceed to strut around the audience like I'm Kate Moss:
It brings the house down and I get to live out my fantasty. Sort of. I'm much thinner in my fantasies.
Here's a poem I wrote for my daughter, Lauren:
Tuck-in Time
Next I step out from behind the podium wearing these ghastly things on my feet and proceed to strut around the audience like I'm Kate Moss:
It brings the house down and I get to live out my fantasty. Sort of. I'm much thinner in my fantasies.
Here's a poem I wrote for my daughter, Lauren:
Tuck-in Time
Goodbye, little one, I know you have to go now
You were so brave, uprooting yourself from an environment
so safe, so sure, so secure
You were so brave, uprooting yourself from an environment
so safe, so sure, so secure
You risked. I applaud you. I know that it was hard
And you were so proud of yourself. Yeah! High five!
And now, look where you are...alone, fighting the fear,
the gut grabbing fear that comes first thing in the morning
and doesn't leave at night. And so, your brilliant smile that
shone for such a brief time, has disappeared, as you will disappear for awhile.
Back to the shell to hide...to think...to cry.
And now, look where you are...alone, fighting the fear,
the gut grabbing fear that comes first thing in the morning
and doesn't leave at night. And so, your brilliant smile that
shone for such a brief time, has disappeared, as you will disappear for awhile.
Back to the shell to hide...to think...to cry.
You Can Run But You Cannot Hide
See that turtle shell in the header? That poor guy has lost a few scutes; I can relate. I've lost more than a few brain cells trying to get this blog up and running. What does an aneurysm feel like?! Trying to upload photos to this site has become the most life-sucking task I've ever attempted.
My goal each time I post is to display a photo from my turtle collection and then write about their "turtle" characteristics. Sounds simple enough, but somehow my little photos become the size of a leatherback turtle when I try to upload them. I admit I am not a computer geek, but even my real "Geek on Call" hasn't been able to figure out what's going on. At least not over the phone. Solving this mystery will, of course, require a house call. Which means forking over a wad of greenbacks. And that reminds me of the amazing watercolor I own of a Green Turtle. I'll share it with you as soon as we become photo-friendly.
I have a "Leaving the Safety and Security of Your Shell" speaking engagement tonight and as usually occurs right before I speak, something happened that made me feel like I have no business talking to anybody about anything. The voices in my head that used to whisper "You're not smart enough, you're not thin enough," know that I'm not buying those lies anymore, so now they hiss, "You're not spiritual enough." That one stops me in my tracks. I want to run back into my shell and hide. But only for a minute. I've learned that whenever I hear a hiss, I need to stop and consider the source.
God's voice is much more gentle. He says things like "What I tell you in the darkness, speak in the light, and what you hear whispered in your ear, (not hissed) proclaim on the housetops!" Matthew 10:27 Well, I guess I'm supposed to speak tonight, but I still don't feel like it.
Then I remember God's faithfulness and all the darkness he's brought me out of and another verse pops into my mind: "And my righteous one shall live by faith. And if he shrinks back I will not be pleased with him." Hebrews 10:38. Hmmm, I gotta' admit - it is kind of stinky inside this shell.
My goal each time I post is to display a photo from my turtle collection and then write about their "turtle" characteristics. Sounds simple enough, but somehow my little photos become the size of a leatherback turtle when I try to upload them. I admit I am not a computer geek, but even my real "Geek on Call" hasn't been able to figure out what's going on. At least not over the phone. Solving this mystery will, of course, require a house call. Which means forking over a wad of greenbacks. And that reminds me of the amazing watercolor I own of a Green Turtle. I'll share it with you as soon as we become photo-friendly.
I have a "Leaving the Safety and Security of Your Shell" speaking engagement tonight and as usually occurs right before I speak, something happened that made me feel like I have no business talking to anybody about anything. The voices in my head that used to whisper "You're not smart enough, you're not thin enough," know that I'm not buying those lies anymore, so now they hiss, "You're not spiritual enough." That one stops me in my tracks. I want to run back into my shell and hide. But only for a minute. I've learned that whenever I hear a hiss, I need to stop and consider the source.
God's voice is much more gentle. He says things like "What I tell you in the darkness, speak in the light, and what you hear whispered in your ear, (not hissed) proclaim on the housetops!" Matthew 10:27 Well, I guess I'm supposed to speak tonight, but I still don't feel like it.
Then I remember God's faithfulness and all the darkness he's brought me out of and another verse pops into my mind: "And my righteous one shall live by faith. And if he shrinks back I will not be pleased with him." Hebrews 10:38. Hmmm, I gotta' admit - it is kind of stinky inside this shell.
Finally Sticking My Neck Out
I didn't start out to have a turtle collection. After my mother passed away, my friend Janie found out that turtles are my personal life metaphor and she gave me a bleached-out white turtle shell she'd found by the side of the road, along with a note, that read:
Thinking how beautiful it was when I found it, filled with an inch of rainwater, a tiny eco-system in the middle of nowhere, water...I heard, "I want you to give this to Susan and tell her, 'you are not forgotten, though you feel empty, you still give, and I will bring you to a place you culd never bring yourself, as a gift, giving in your gifting.'"
Wow.
Then, at the flea market, I found the turtle shell with the missing scutes, pictured above. "Perfect," I thought to myself. "He's just like me; not quite all there."
After that it just sort of got out of control and now my office looks like an arribada, a mass nesting phenomenon of thousand of sea turtles. I try and stay away from cheesy, kitschy turtles, but certain members of my family seem to think it's necessary for me to own things like a pair of giant, fuzzy turtle slippers. The problem with having a collection is that people think their gift giving problems are over. So there they sit, alongside my hand-carved turtles, jade turtles, a brass turtle door stopper, a turtle trivet, a ceramic white "snow turtle" (more on that in another post) and many, many more. You might say I suffer from "Turtleitis," but it's not a disease, it's more a condition of the soul.
Turtles remind me of where I've come from and where I'm going. Maybe I haven't come all that far, but I'm slow like the turtle so it's taken me quite a while to get here. There's a well-known, out-of-print motivational book called "Rhinoceros Success" that a friend of mine once gave me to read. I hated it. It was all about "CHARGING!" through life, very aggressive, very "not me." I handed it back to her and said "I'm not a rhinoceros; I'm a turtle." That's when I began to learn more about turtles and realized how much we have in common. My "turtle thing" is all about the journey of leaving the safety and security of my shell.
So now I write about that journey and do public speaking on the subject whenever I get the chance. I chose the title Turtlemuse, because the word muse is both a noun and a verb. Turtles inspire my creative and spiritual life and I spend a lot of time studying and contemplating the wonder of all things turtle. I hope you'll check back often and join me on the journey. You'll find "musings" and poems, stories and essays, both serious and humorous. Hopefully, you'll share your thoughts as well.
"Reality is a fence with many holes, a net with many tears. I walk through them slowly. My slowness is deceptively fast." Verlyn Klinkenborg~ Timothy; or, Notes of an Abject Reptile
Thinking how beautiful it was when I found it, filled with an inch of rainwater, a tiny eco-system in the middle of nowhere, water...I heard, "I want you to give this to Susan and tell her, 'you are not forgotten, though you feel empty, you still give, and I will bring you to a place you culd never bring yourself, as a gift, giving in your gifting.'"
Wow.
Then, at the flea market, I found the turtle shell with the missing scutes, pictured above. "Perfect," I thought to myself. "He's just like me; not quite all there."
After that it just sort of got out of control and now my office looks like an arribada, a mass nesting phenomenon of thousand of sea turtles. I try and stay away from cheesy, kitschy turtles, but certain members of my family seem to think it's necessary for me to own things like a pair of giant, fuzzy turtle slippers. The problem with having a collection is that people think their gift giving problems are over. So there they sit, alongside my hand-carved turtles, jade turtles, a brass turtle door stopper, a turtle trivet, a ceramic white "snow turtle" (more on that in another post) and many, many more. You might say I suffer from "Turtleitis," but it's not a disease, it's more a condition of the soul.
Turtles remind me of where I've come from and where I'm going. Maybe I haven't come all that far, but I'm slow like the turtle so it's taken me quite a while to get here. There's a well-known, out-of-print motivational book called "Rhinoceros Success" that a friend of mine once gave me to read. I hated it. It was all about "CHARGING!" through life, very aggressive, very "not me." I handed it back to her and said "I'm not a rhinoceros; I'm a turtle." That's when I began to learn more about turtles and realized how much we have in common. My "turtle thing" is all about the journey of leaving the safety and security of my shell.
So now I write about that journey and do public speaking on the subject whenever I get the chance. I chose the title Turtlemuse, because the word muse is both a noun and a verb. Turtles inspire my creative and spiritual life and I spend a lot of time studying and contemplating the wonder of all things turtle. I hope you'll check back often and join me on the journey. You'll find "musings" and poems, stories and essays, both serious and humorous. Hopefully, you'll share your thoughts as well.
"Reality is a fence with many holes, a net with many tears. I walk through them slowly. My slowness is deceptively fast." Verlyn Klinkenborg~ Timothy; or, Notes of an Abject Reptile