What's Prettier Than Freckles?

[Cathryn Tezha Swann]

Greetings Friends,

January 7th is my birthday…. And as the Universe often does, it showed me an interesting synchronicity by bringing the little story included below to my attention at this time.

I must admit that I’m slightly surprised to be 63 years old…. I seem so young to me, in some ways, and so old in other ways. And when I see myself in the mirror, I’m surprised. I’ve passed the time when I looked in the mirror and saw my parents faces…. Now I see my grandmother’s eyes, especially, peering out of a face that’s familiarly mine, and yet, somehow never quite what I expect to see. And the “granny skin” on my hands is really an endless source of fascination for me! Amazing – it’s so papery, and so wrinkly. How did that happen? Haha, what a mystery!

So today I celebrate another year of breathing, singing, dancing, sleeping and dreaming, and watching the world in hopefulness and wonder as it changes – as people and consciousness change, and as the seasons ebb and flow.

I offer this story for your enjoyment today….
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What's Prettier Than Freckles?

An elderly woman and her little grandson, whose face was sprinkled with bright freckles, spent the day at the zoo. Lots of children were waiting in line to get their cheeks painted by a local artist who was decorating them with tiger paws.

"You've got so many freckles, there's no place to paint!" a girl in the line said to the little fella. Embarrassed, the little boy dropped his head. His grandmother knelt down next to him.

"I love your freckles. When I was a little girl I always wanted freckles," she said, while tracing her finger across the child's cheek. "Freckles are beautiful."

The boy looked up, "Really?"

"Of course," said the grandmother. "Why just name me one thing that's prettier than freckles."

The little boy thought for a moment, peered intensely into his grandma's face, and softly whispered, "Wrinkles."

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And by the way… I think freckles are pretty wonderful too!

Blessings,
Cathryn
MoonSinger Essentials
www.moonsinger.com

Happy birthday to me, happy birthday to me, happy birthday Dear Cathryn, happy birthday to me!
(One of the things I love about being 63 is I no longer care if other people think I’m crazy!)

"The only certain thing about the future is that it will surprise even those who have seen furthest into it." ~Eric Hobsbawm
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[Cathryn Tezha Swann]

Greetings, Hitch,

Thank you for the beautiful poem! It's a bird day -- someone sent me a link to a bird video earlier. Unfortunately I watched it and deleted the e-mail and now I don't know how to find it again. But I love the synchronicity!

And I send you one of my favorite birds -- the seagull. This one was one of about a dozen following the ferry between Galveston and Bolivar Peninsula (way before hurricane Ike wiped out Bolivar and did a lot of damage to Galveston). The passendgers who ride that ferry often bring bread or other food, and throw it up to them, and they swoop in and out of each other's "airspace" catching the flying food. It's beautiful to see -- they rarely let anything hit the deck or the water! I loved watching them.

Now I live in the desert where I see hawks and the occasional eagle.... watching them floating on the thermals is lovely.

Blessings,
Cathryn
www.moonsinger.com
www.shakura-moonsinger.blogspot.com
"All of the animals except man know that the principal business of life is to enjoy it." ~Samuel Butler

[Hitch]

Belated Happy Birthday, Cathryn!

Have a wonderful year breathing, singing, dancing, sleeping, and dreaming.

Years ago, when I first moved to Prescott in other than ideal circumstances, I was acknowledged and uplifted by a hawk. A poem followed, which I share with you.

Medicine Bird:

There you were
Riding the air currents
Capturing the sun
on your underbody of yellow iridescence
Medicine wheel on each wing
giving a measure of my life to be.

You, a Silent One
Diviner of a future
bequeathed by my own imagination
You, prophesier of a new
and wondrous cycle
Hanging on a trapeze of air,
you speak to my heavy mood
And fill me with the promise
of dreams born into reality.

Suspended above
Split hair beyond my reach
Hovering on foils of feathered majesty,
you pierce the veil of time
Open my vision
to the grandeur to come.

Carl Hitchens (Hitch) [First written Nov. 1991]