Beauty All Around

Today is an anomaly of beautiful Florida weather--it's chilly, breezy, solid cloud cover, spits of rain here and there. In one word: yucky. It's the kind of day I'll brew some herbal tea and sip it with hands clasped around the cup's warmth. Fortunately for those of us who live here? This, too, shall pass. And it usually does quite quickly. In the meantime, here I sit blogging away to bring my own bit of Florida sunshine to an otherwise gloomy day.

In June we moved into a nice rental house. It's only a couple of miles from where we used to live so there wasn't too much adjustment on everyone's part from moving. Not sure how long we'll be here or where we'll go next, but in the meantime, it's a very nice house. One of my favorite things here are the three flowering shrubs at the back of the property. One is a double hibiscus, and I'm not sure what the names of the other two are. I do know that they're pretty. And the fuchsia red flowering shrub loves to attract butterflies. Each shrub in its own way provides numerous opportunities for beautiful photographs. These photos, in turn, give me inspiration for paintings.

Who wouldn't be inspired by this? I love the way the light falls on the distant wing.

One important lesson I've learned about taking photos and painting works of art is that it's all about light and shadows; i.e., the contrast. It's what separates an okay picture from one that is so stunning you can't take your eyes off of it. In paintings, the artist can manipulate this aspect. Photos? Not so much. Either the sun is shining or it isn't. And I'm not that talented of an artist to know how to manipulate my painting by knowing exactly where the sun is and where the shadows would therefor fall. So I rely heavily on my photos.

I can't wait to paint this one, especially to capture the glow inside the trumpet of the flower on the right.

I love to study the flowers themselves, too--how the petals come together, the sepals and stamens. When I load the photos onto my computer, I love how I can blow up the tiniest flower to see all the intricate details. I wonder if this is how God sees His creations?

This photo makes me feel kinda like I'm looking through butterfly's eyes, and its view as it readies itself to land and draw nectar.

Sometimes, simple leaves are just as beautiful, too ... the way parts of them are exposed to the light while other parts play hide and seek in the shadows. Below is a watercolor that I painted based on several photos I had taken of crape myrtle leaves. This piece also was accepted into a local art show. It's now hanging on the wall of my family room where I can see it everyday.

Below are three flowers from the same bush, the red double hibiscus that I mentioned at the beginning of this blog post. It amazes me how different it looks when it's placed against three separate backgrounds. As an artist, I'll probably do three paintings just to capture these differences. I love the play of shadows that intensifies the red, but I also love how you can see the make up of the flower depending on how you're viewing it, especially the intricacies of the petals in the second photo.

A funny story about the double hibiscus ... squirrels love them. To eat. It must be the most delicious treat to the little nutters because if I want to take photos of a blooming hibiscus, I have to get out there, fast. If I don't, the flower's remnants--and not much, I might add--will be on the ground. I have a photo somewhere of a squirrel sitting on top of our pool cage tearing through one of these flowers like it's the squirrel's last meal on earth. He had ripped the flower from the bush and then high-tailed up on top of the screen so he could enjoy the meal uninterrupted. Talk about al fresco dining.

I don't know what part of the world you live in, but I hope you've enjoyed seeing a bit of the beauty we're blessed with here in Florida all year round. My day has certainly brightened just looking at these photos once more. The last photo is my version of Florida yellow sun personified. If the clouds have won over the day, maybe the sun got the last laugh in pouring some of its yellow brilliance into flowers down here on earth.

They're Real, They Exist, Just Listen

A few years ago I realized I had a gift. Yet when I shared this realization with others, most were skeptical and some folks outright scoffed. Very few actually believed. Cue the line from the movie The Sixth Sense: I see dead people. Only that's not true because I don't see them, I hear them. And feel their presence. My oldest daughter and one of my nephews sees them and hears them. Not me. But, oh, do I ever hear them!

I won't pretend to know exactly how it works on the other side, when someone dies, but it's not set up how most people were taught to believe. When I've asked others what they think heaven is, or where it is, they really have no clear-cut answer. Let's rip up the after-death myth right here about the floating-around-on-clouds and playing-the-harp thing. It makes for good cartoons but that's about it. When a person dies, there isn't an automatic go straight to heaven or hell, either, except for those very evil. I don't want to get into that aspect, though. So I'll address the heaven part.

In order to understand why I--and others--can hear and communicate with those who have passed on, first you have to understand where the deceased are and what they are. Our bodies are a shell to house our spirits while living here on earth. It's a very significant "shell," but that's a topic better left for another discussion. Just know that when the deceased leave their bodies and go to the other side, they are still the same people who left their bodies. Love, devotion, hope, dreams, nasty attitudes, negativity, benevolence or lack thereof--any good or bad traits they possessed while alive remain with them after "death." Now, having said this, they can change once they're over there. They have the opportunity of being taught the values and truths that they didn't get while on the earth. They can accept or reject these teachings, just like they could while "alive." Free will doesn't end.

How do I know what I just stated? Dead people have told me with statements like, "I'm learning so much!" and "There's so much to learn!" I hear the excitement in their voices and feel it in their presence. That lets me know we can become better over there if we so desire, and that we don't learn everything all at once upon death, like some living people believe. I've also talked to those that I didn't especially care for while they were alive, and sometimes they have changed into magnificent beings who I can't wait to get to know when I arrive on the other side. Other times, they still harbor the same not-so-niceness they possessed while alive, and I cut those conversations short. Just know that if someone cared for you deeply during his or her life, they care just as much--if not more--on the other side, and will do for you whatever they can.

There is a common thread each time I talk to a dead person. This common thread is purpose. These conversations are never idle chatter. The purpose may be: strengthening my belief in an afterlife (though that's been a moot point for several years now), me helping a live person to have hope and believe in an afterlife, comfort (for myself or another), concern (for me or another), requests, ... the list goes on, but there is always purpose. When the purpose concerns myself, I've been extremely grateful for what they are able to teach me. When it concerns others who are alive, the situation becomes a little more dicey for me, as the deceased person usually wants me to get a message to a loved one. I always have the option to accept or reject what they want me to do, which is my free will in action. And I tell the deceased person that they have to accept that the living person may not believe the message or where it came from. I've had results go both ways.

Several years ago, a deceased young woman came to me and asked me to give a message to her mother. Now understand, I had never met the woman's mother before, yet I knew that this mother would recognize my name and know who I was. It took me a day or so to track down the mother's whereabouts and get her phone number. Can you imagine how much I was shaking when I made that call? As a mother myself, I couldn't imagine receiving a call such as that. I prayed earnestly that I would say the right things so this mother didn't hang up on me, but most of all, that she would know the message I was bringing to her from her deceased daughter was true, and meant to give her hope and comfort her grief. I'll not include the message here to protect the sacred privacy of all involved, but the deceased called her mother, Mommy, when she gave the message to me, and told me to repeat the message word for word. When I called that mother and explained who I was and my reason for the call, she was at least willing to hear me out. After I gave her the message, she broke down, sobbing. She said she absolutely knew the message was from her daughter because, even as a grown woman, her daughter still called her Mommy. Then she related some things that had happened to her recently to let her know that her daughter was near and watching over her. My phone call completed that knowledge.

Another call I made didn't turn out so great. It was a message from a deceased husband to his wife. The wife had known me well for many years and respected me. When I told her the reason for my phone call, she was skeptical at the very least even though I said key phrases and words that she and her husband had spoken in private conversations that she had repeated to no one. This aspect of our conversation caught her by surprise and made her stop to think. Yet because of previously-held (erroneous) beliefs, she ultimately didn't believe me. If you think about it, if it wasn't true, why would I have made the call and held myself out there to look like a fool? I even said as much. And her late husband's message was one of confirmation of the beauty of heaven, love, and hope. He also said he'd been trying to talk to her--and others as well--but no one could hear him. He was thrilled that I could hear him. Can you imagine no one being able to hear you when you had something so important to share?

My particular gift does not work like the Long Island Medium, either, though every once in a great while I hear the deceased make comments, which I don't share, or I get an incredibly strong feeling that a person's deceased loved one is near. At times, I experience the feelings of a deceased person as if those feelings were my very own. Those feelings vary from the most intense joy to the lowest low and everything in between.

Bottom line is: it doesn't matter to me whether someone believes or not that I communicate with the dead. Did you get that? I don't care whether you believe me or not. I don't care if you think this entire post is a bunch of tripe, or hocus pocus fodder, or whatever. It's real and it's been proven to me time and again that it's real. Honestly, I've had enough experiences to fill a book. It's also not easy to listen to the dead and experience their feelings; in fact, it's draining. But if by listening to them and delivering their messages I can then help the living, if I can ease someone's pain or grief even the tiniest bit, it's worth it to me. When a person does believe, it's an unimaginably amazing experience for both of us. It's as if the truth sinks into them in the most undeniable way. On the flip side, if a gift that precious is thrown aside by others in unbelief, then don't be surprised when the unbeliever struggles more than he or she should. It's up to each of us to decide where we stand on the matter.

Perspective

I practiced dentistry for 23 years. Most dentists stay with it longer than that, but health challenges forced me to retire and pursue other outlets. Don't get me wrong, I'm not complaining. I've been thrilled to be able to paint and write (passions for me for several years now) since my full-time "retirement". And I love being able to swim in my pool anytime I want when the sun is actually out, not after I return home from a long day at work and Florida thunderstorms spring up, curtailing any chance to dip in the pool. So I've learned to count my blessings and enjoy everything that I can.

During my practice of dentistry, I loved to perform surgeries. I especially loved to experience first-hand the body's ability to heal. What I didn't love about surgery is the mess you can get into quickly if you're not absolutely careful. Even when you're extremely diligent and perform every step according to protocol, you can get in trouble quickly.

The biggest problem was excessive bleeding. Patients weren't always forthright on their medical histories and didn't think it important to let me know they were on a daily regimen of aspirin to thin the blood. Until the blood wouldn't stop flowing from a seemingly benign surgery. "Oh, yeah!" they'd say. "I take a baby aspirin, only one a day. I didn't think it mattered." Guess what--it matters.

Awakening people after putting them under could also be scary. Sometimes, they just "forgot" to tell me that they took a little anti-anxiety medication on their own. Or that they had a former drug or alcohol addiction, all of which affects the ability for them to wake up easily after I've pumped other drugs into their system. These times were the most scary, when I couldn't get someone to respond. I took appropriate measures and everything always worked out okay, but for those couple of minutes, there were more prayers going up from my operatory than 1000 Muslims could offer at prayer call. It was literally a matter of life and death. Trust me, I do not miss those episodes.

That's why I don't get too stressed about anything in my life now. If a painting doesn't work out how I wanted it to, or doesn't get accepted into a show the way I'd hoped, or a novel isn't coming together and I have no idea where to go next in the storyline -- mmph, none of it is life or death. It's simply a puzzle to be worked out. Nothing more, nothing less. A puzzle. A challenge on life's roadway to wherever. So what if a piece of paper gets ruined? It's only paper, and if I paid attention, I probably learned a very good lesson in what not to do next time. When I spend hours upon hours crafting a novel, only to be told by an editor that 45% of it was deadwood that needed to be chopped, then I learned a lesson in that, too. But none of it was a matter of life or death. None of it.

I'm a much happier person now, not holding someone's life in my hands. Well, actually God holds their life in His hands, so I always did my best to be an active partner in those scenarios and plead with Him not to let that person slip into a coma or die. I'm so glad He never let that happen.

Next time you get highly upset about something, ask yourself--will the outcome mean life or death? If not, don't sweat it. Just do your best and it'll all fall into place.

This and That

I've been reflecting the past few weeks on this blog and all the great experiences that I had on my trip, then I realized I left out some interesting tidbits of info. Maybe no one else will be interested, but I'll record these for posterity anyway.

* All of the public bathrooms that I used in the U.K. (and Paris, too) had total privacy doors. As in, there were NO cracks anywhere around the door where anyone could peek in. I loved it and wondered why the U.S. can't do the same. I think that public restroom doors in the U.S. were designed by perverts. Seriously.

* If you plan on using the bathroom there at a train station (including the tube and metro), have some coins ready because it's going to cost you.

* As long as we're on the subject of bathrooms/restrooms, if you need to use one, don't ask anyone to direct you to the bathroom or restroom. They'll look at you like you've grown two extra heads and smell really foul. Just ask them to direct you to the toilet or the loo.

* I promise -- this is my last entry regarding bathrooms. I think. Anyway, the toilets are quite different from those in the U.S. They are extremely deep from the seat to the water reservoir where waste lands. This results in no "splash backs" if you know what I mean. And the flush handle? There usually isn't one. Instead, it's a button on the top of the water tank.

* When riding the tube (or subway) in London, there is usually a small gap between the platform and the train. They remind you of this by announcing "Mind the gap." Same thing for the overland trains.

* Whenever you have to take a taxi, don't call them cabs. No one will know what you mean.

* When a taxi driver stops to pick you up, don't automatically try to get into the back seat. They'll roll down the passenger-side window first to find out where you're going before they let you in their taxi.

* When you're driving -- sitting at a stoplight, there is one main difference from how it works in the States. In the U.S., the light turns from red to green. In the U.K., the light turns from red to yellow to green. The yellow signals that drivers should rev their engines so as soon as the light turns green, they're off!! Reminded me of being at the racetrack, or should I say, being a driver ON the racetrack.

* In London, when you're waiting to cross the street at a traffic light, look down. Painted on the road in large letters will be "Look right," to remind you which way the cars are coming from. If you get to a median in the middle, on the road will be painted, "Look left." I was thankful for this reminder more than once.

* Almost everywhere I went in England, if I was driving or someone else was driving, you have to pay to park. And it's not a simple coin-operated machine at the front of your parking space. It's a large machine, usually at the far end from where you've parked (or on another floor if it's a multi-floor parking garage). Wherever it's located, you are obligated to find it, pay your money (exact change only; some of them take credit cards), take the ticket it spits out at you, then walk back to your vehicle wherever it may be and place the ticket inside the car on the front dashboard where it can be seen.

When I spent a couple of hours in Bourton-on-the-Water, I got sick and had to leave with two hours of paid parking still left on my ticket. Parking was at a premium that day (i.e., hard to come by), and I'd no sooner gotten in my car then another car sat, waiting for me to leave so he could get my space. I grabbed my ticket, got out of the car, walked back to the waiting car and handed the driver my ticket, saying, "Thought you might want to use it since it's already paid for." He and his wife thanked me profusely. They also looked shocked.

* I think no matter where we travel in the world, we're all pretty much the same deep down. While on the tube one afternoon, I surreptitiously watched a father and son have a conversation in a language that I had no clue what they were saying. Tone and body language said it all, though, and I could figure out about 80-90% of what they were discussing by those two alone. Words? Who needs 'em.

That's all I can think of for now. I'm sure there will be more as I reflect on it.

Day 23 -- 16 May 2013 -- Home Again, Home Again, Jiggety-Jig

For the first time since I had arrived overseas, I set my alarm. My flight left at 11:30 a.m. from Gatwick so I had to allow time for last-minute packing, showering, eating my last scrumptious breakfast at The Rubens, taxi time to Victoria Station, and the train ride out to the airport, not to mention check-in and going through security. It was a very early wakeup.

Good to say that everything went smoothly. I was excited to go home and see my family. I was excited to see what they thought of the souvenirs they had received in the packages, and how they'd like the things I was bringing with me. Yet I still wished I could extend the trip by a week or two. I didn't want to leave, but as my daughter sometimes says, "We don't always get what we want."

In this final post of my trip of a lifetime, I'll leave you with these parting shots. Since I had taken a photo of the airplane that carried me to this wonderful country, it was only fitting that I get a photo of the one taking me back to the States. Who knows? It could have been the exact same plane. Guess I'll never know, huh.

And this gangplank out to the bird has got to be the longest I've ever walked. Ever.

 

At 4:15 p.m. local time, I arrived back in Florida. Customs was a much nicer experience than when I had arrived in England. The customs officer smiled at me and said, "Let me be the first to welcome you back home."

 

Thanks to all of you who have stuck with me in reading this blog. I know I should have had it up much sooner, and finished earlier than I did. Oh, well. Such is life. Finished now it is (thanks, Yoda). I sincerely hope you've enjoyed reading it as much as I've enjoyed reliving it all through the narrative and photos.

 

One postscript: one of the TwiMoms I mentioned in my York post has always wanted to go to Edinburgh, Scotland. It's been a lifelong dream of hers. After reading of my adventures--along with Judith and Amanda and HM--here on the blog, this dear lady has decided to make her dream come true and is now planning a trip to Edinburgh. I was beyond thrilled when I learned of this.

 

With that in mind, may you decide to take life by the horns and make your dreams come true.

Au revoir. 

 





Day 22 -- 15 May 2013, Part 3 -- Last Day in London, Victoria Station

Before heading back to my room and then out to dinner, I wanted to drop by Victoria Station where I would take the Gatwick Express train the next morning to Gatwick Airport.

Victoria Station is where my adventure began in London. It's where I got lost on arrival, and a kind station worker loaded me and my excessive luggage up onto his oversize golf-cart-type vehicle and drove me through hoards of travelers directly to the taxi stand. It's where I bought my first phone for use strictly in the U.K.; where I could buy a nice dinner, a snack, or delicious pain au chocolat; and where I mistakenly caught the overland train instead of the tube when I ventured out my second day in London. The place is huge and bustling and it's easy to get stampeded if you don't watch out. I wanted photos of it all so I could share just the tiniest bit with people who have never been or may never see the place.

 

The board showing all the departures and what platform they're on.

I was shocked to see that they had Burger King in the U.K.!

My platform for the following morning.

 

I'd been taking photos for a few minutes when I got some intense stares from security personnel. I guess they can't be too careful about anyone.

I caught this place at a fairly slow time because it was usually jam-packed. I was nearly run over more than once. By humans.

 

The next morning I would be heading out that way and not returning for some time. The thought made me too sad to dwell on, so I had to reflect on all the time I had been blessed to visit three countries, and all the amazing adventures I was privileged to experience. Truthfully, I can't wait to go back.



Day 22 -- 15 May 2013, Part 2 -- Last Full Day in London, St. James Park

Directly after I left Westminster Abbey, I headed over to St. James Park. If I remember the story correctly, when King George ruled, he wanted a place where he could swim in the summer and ice skate in the winter just outside his door at Buckingham Palace, and he wanted it filled with beauty. This is how the park came to be. 

 

Multitudes of tulips and various other flowers bloomed, and the place looked gorgeous no matter where I looked. Feast your eyes on the beautiful photos. I promise there are zero calories involved. Two warnings, though. If you hate flowers or nature in general, turn back now. I won't be offended.

Second, if you're an artist like me and you'd like to paint something based on any of these photos, let me remind you that I own the copyright and you have to get my permission first--otherwise, you'll end up paying me a whole lot of money when I legally remind you of that copyright.

Otherwise, enjoy!!

 

There are more flowers to come, but first--some greenery to rest your eyes.

Pelicans in London?? Who knew?!?

Across a lake and acres away, that gold atop Queen Victoria's fountain still shines!

I learned that all the swans in England officially belong to Queen Elizabeth. I wonder if the birds know this? Anyway, it is against the law to kill a swan. That I can agree with.

Just out of the photo to the right is a man with a large bag who had been feeding the birds. When he started to leave, so did they. I tried to catch them in flight but wasn't too successful. Anyway, there were several birds sitting on the fence. I noticed, though, down along the fence amongst the birds sat one lone squirrel. Him I did manage to capture in a photo.

The man with the feed is walking away. Looks like the squirrel might try to follow?

This café was in the park itself and overlooked the lake. I grabbed a snack here--Rose Lemonade and molten chocolate cake. Once again, died and gone to heaven. Both treats could be positively addictive. The café even had woolen blankets at the outside tables to pull over your lap. Sat outside--used the blanket.

If you look carefully through the trees, this was the view as I enjoyed my goodies. Zoomed in more in the second photo.

 

The variety and colors of the water fowl fascinated me.

Can you believe the shoes on this guy?! Oh, his other foot? Tucked up underneath him. Still. Look at that foot. Crazy, huh!

Beautiful brown in the feathers, but doesn't that beak just draw you in?!

Though my eyes are pulled to the glowing gold of this duck's feathers, look over to the left and you can now see both feet of the bird we saw earlier.

Swans are so regal. I guess it's because they're the property of the Queen? Nah.

Trust me; I was not that close to this guy. Or to any of the birds. It's only because of the camera's incredible zoom feature that I was able to capture them in this much detail. He still looks like he has a "will you puh-leaze just go away" look to his face. He settled down shortly after this and closed his eyes. Really.

 

See, I didn't lie.

Some parting shots of the park as I got closer to the palace.

 

I sat on a bench for a while and thought I could hear drumming. When I finally left the park, I followed the noise and found these military guys marching and playing. It looked like they were practicing for something. Kinda cool.

 

I have just a few more photos left of what I did on my last day, but I'll save them for a very short post. You'll see why.

I hope you enjoyed the flowers and birds and St. James Park. Turned out to be one of my favorite places in London.