Archive for Thankfulness

O Captain My Captain

Posted in Activist, Beauty, Faith, Gratitude, History, Humour, LGBT Community, Love, Nostalgia, Passion, Poetry, Spirituality, Wisdom, Writing with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , on August 12, 2014 by TaijituMartini

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“You’re only given one little spark of madness. You musn’t lose it.”
-Robin Williams

So true My Captain. Can I call you that? I hope you don’t mind. I never knew you, but I always felt like I did.
I felt connected to you. Perhaps it was your small stature. I happen to be wee myself. Maybe it was your contagious laughter, your great comedic timing, your humble views on life and love. Whatever it was that connected us in this vast Universe-you enriched my life. Thank-you for that.
Your heart was big My Captain. I felt that-and I’m not the only one. It seems whoever knew you loved you.
A special soul you were.
As John Keating in Dead Poets Society you opened my eyes to the possibility of looking at life from a different perspective. Stand on your desk and shout out your mantra to the world. Booya Keating. That’s the way to do it. Life’s too short for bullshit.
You encouraged me to “carpe diem”, a motto I have leaned on throughout my adult life.
Your performance as Parry in The Fisher King swept me away to another world and turned me into a two hour human waterfall. What a movie.
Armand in The Birdcage- another classic. Showcasing LGBTQ diversity before it was cool to do it, just your style, brave and true.
One Hour Photo. You were lonely. Did you feel a similar pain? I’m sorry if you did. No one should ever feel truly alone.
Many of the characters you played over the years seemed to echo your soul. I grew up watching you, and went to see your stand-up show in person. What a night that was. Just try and tell those jokes again the next day. As if. Pure comedic genius. One of a kind. No one did it like you did. No one ever will.
Intelligent, compassionate, sharp, strong, generous, and kind. I’m not the only one who thinks so. I’m just one of millions. What a legacy.
I will miss your gift of seamless improv, your humble generosity, your ridiculous repertoire of crazy voices, your versatile talent as a top notch performer, your honest and giving nature, and most of all your unique capability to move this world with your exhuberant madness.
My Captain, I wish you the eternal peace you couldn’t find in life.
Wherever you may be, may your magical spark forever ring free.

As Is

Posted in Beauty, Faith, Gratitude, Love, Nature, Spirituality, Writing with tags , , , , , , , , on May 30, 2014 by TaijituMartini

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Spring-as is.

Finding Peace

Posted in Beauty, Faith, Gratitude, History, Love, Nostalgia, Protector, Spirituality, Wisdom with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , on December 5, 2013 by TaijituMartini

mandela

A humble man of extraordinary charisma, courage, strength, and perseverance.

Your 95 years on this earth ended today, but now you’ll be granted golden angel wings to fly.

Thank-you for being such a beautiful soul,

your inspiration is immeasurable.

Danke Schoen

Posted in Gratitude, Hope, Passion, Spirituality, Writing with tags , , , , on October 16, 2013 by TaijituMartini

 It’s those fleeting moments that light the fire of our lives.

Thanks for watching the glow…

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My Winged Angel

Posted in Agapornis Roseicollis, Animals, Clairvoyance, Dreaming, Gratitude, Hope, Humour, Love, Nostalgia, Protector, Spirituality with tags , , , , , , , , on October 12, 2013 by TaijituMartini

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I once had a wonderful winged best friend. Her name was Zora. She would sit on my shoulder and fluff herself up and nestle in behind my ear and underneath my hair for warmth.  She would stay there for hours. She would eat breakfast with me and loved green apples and alfafa sprouts, but chicken was her absolute favourite food. Go figure. Good thing I never explained it to her or she would have been utterly horrified.  She would play cheeky little games with me. I’d make a little tunnel under the covers of my duvet and she would run in at a fast clip and hide in the far end the tunnel. I’d put my face up to the opening and make noises and call her name and she would come running out as fast as her little feet would go, nudge my nose with her little yellow beak, and perfectly imitate the sounds I was making right back.

She was a talented flyer, but when she’d decide to beat it across an entire room on those little twiggy feeties it would make my heart sing. It was the cutest thing. She was such a sweet little parrotlet. She was a hand-raised peach-faced lovebird, technically an agapornis roseicollis, but I called her all sorts of crazy names. My little agapornis had a million names, and a million adorable personality traits to match all the zany nicknames I christened her with.

She had a good life, better than good. I gave her everything. She was spoiled rotten and was hardly ever in her cage. I wanted to be with her every second I could. She was a wonderful friend. She was my very best winged friend. I was very lucky to have her and the love I received from her in return could never be duplicated twice in a lifetime.

She loved to travel, but wasn’t too impressed when she would spot cows in the pastures while we were in the car. She liked seeing horses but I don’t think she liked cows, she was afraid of them and would vocally let me know when we passed them grazing in a field. She loved to see new places, and in the summer she would chill with me outside on the deck and have conversations with all the other winged creatures that flew the skies. I always wondered what they were talking about.

She loved to sit on the shower curtain rod while I was showering and patiently keep me company until I was finished. Sometimes she would hang with me in the bathtub. She would run up and down my legs and try to bathe herself in the deep water, but I would protect her from falling in head first and she would settle for flitting around in the shallow water that would accumulate on my stomach. I would often give her a bath under a warm tap. She loved water. Afterwards, she would sit on the branch above her cage and groom herself happily until every feather was taken care of and she had deemed herself perfectly coiffed.

She would fly freely from room to room and squeak in delight when I would play hide and seek with her. Sometimes she would fly from the upstairs to the downstairs and I would hear a little chirp from somewhere far away to let me know where she was hiding. She liked to sit on windowsills, looking intently outside to check out the worlds happenings. At night she would fluff herself up while I was watching tv and make little grinding noises with her beak when she was completely content. She was toilet trained. Well, not really a toilet, but her cage. I would move her from my shoulder to my index finger, tell her to go do her business and she would fly over to the top of her cage and use the loo. Then she would fly back to my shoulder. Such an intelligent little soul.

She had a little triangular fluffy yellow bed that I hung in her cage nightly, and every night she would crawl in and put herself to bed, fluff herself up and get comfy, and then I would say, “Goodnight Z ” she would chirp a little goodnight right back from inside her cozy little yellow bed.

We were meant to be together her and I. It was two souls connecting on a spiritual level that could never be captured in words. It was a love unlike any other. It was a perfect love as deep as the oceans and as wide as the Universe. It still is. Infinite as the moon and the stars.

She passed away suddenly of a heart attack after sixteen wonderful years together. A quick passing without suffering.  Sixteen years of pure love and laughter. When I found her that night, almost two years ago to the day, I could feel her little soul sitting atop her favourite branch, looking down at me grieving, holding her tiny little body in my shaking hands. My girlfriend felt her there as well. We both knew she was still there, waiting to make sure we were ok before she moved on.

Zora wasn’t sure why we were suddenly separated. She would soon come to understand.  I knew she would be happy. She had other things to do. She had other adventures to embark on.  A soul that special would have important jobs to do on the other side. Now she was my Spirit Guardian and I felt blessed to know that she would be watching over me.

I asked her to come and visit me in my dreams the night she passed to let me know that she was alright, and she did, that very night. A beautiful vivid dream overflowing with the love that we shared for each other. She comes every so often to see me in the night, mostly when I ask her to, bringing my soul a little slice of happiness again, if ever so briefly, and I’m grateful for her visits. I’m grateful for the sixteen years we spent together, and the pure love she brought into my life. I miss her so, and wait patiently for that glorious day when we can finally be together again.

I love you Z.  Now, then, and forever.

zee

Two weeks before she died I felt her death coming. My intuition told me I wouldn’t have her with me for long, so I took this picture one day after she’d had a bath, sitting on her favourite branch.  She’s smiling.

All Creatures Great and Small

Posted in Spirituality with tags , , , , , , on August 27, 2013 by TaijituMartini

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The Wave

Posted in Gratitude, History, Hope, Spirituality with tags , , on July 24, 2013 by TaijituMartini

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Often in life little things suddenly become big things. This is one of those times.

Our days are often filled with repetitive routines. One of my regular routines is to wave to my neighbour who lives across the street. He’s one of the good guys and the kind of person you’re happy to have as a neighbour. Around the same age, late thirties or early forties. His lawn looks like a golf green,  he’s always playing outside with his two young kids, stops to chat when you’re watering your grass, just a really decent guy. If we happen to cross paths during the day I wave, just a little hello while I’m driving by. You know, the hold-one-hand-up-high-and-pause kind of wave. My wave routine has become second nature and we’ve been doing it for years. My next door neighbour is a complete psychotic, so I consider myself lucky to be able to enjoy moments of sanity with my  neighbour across the street.

Then one day a couple of weeks ago it happened. The wave stopped. A small act that you would assume is relatively inconsequential in the grand scheme of things. Turns out it’s important. The wave has now become meaningful. It’s no longer something little. It’s big. It’s the daily connection between two passing souls and it’s been broken.

My neighbour has been in the hospital for two weeks with liver and kidney failure. Another neighbour came over to tell us about his condition. I sent flowers yesterday. I don’t know if I’ll ever see him again. I don’t know if he is going to live or if he’s going to die. The street is so very quiet without him and my heart aches for his family. It’s very strange on the street without him. It’s just different without his energy there. I keep finding myself looking out my front window at their house. Once last summer we found him slumped over completely unresponsive on his front porch and called 911. They revived him and took him to the hospital. He came over the next day to thank us personally, but we never found out why he was so sick that day. I miss my neighbour. If you can spare some time in your routine tonight, send out good thoughts for him. He needs them-and his family needs him.

I miss the wave.