Pledge My Playoff Beard–Please!

This is me with a beard and standing next to Bob. Sexy–I know. Why a beard–you ask? Well, for those of you non-NHL informed people, it’s the Stanley Cup Playoffs. Everyone grows a beard during playoffs–at least the cool people do. Why should you care? Because I’m sporting facial hair is to help raise money for children who need assistance AKA the Florida Panthers Foundation. Plus, I HATE the “c” word. In order for me to stay in the running, I need at least one daily vote. So please click this link and vote for me for free *shameless plus*! Come on, my favorite #9 is blowing me out of the water!  Of course, the whole point is to raise money for to fight pediatric cancer by pledging. You can donate $10 (or more) by clicking the link as well. Thanks in advance.

http://www.beardathon.com/panthers/pamelarossow/profile.aspx

My beard even made the news–thanks NBC Miami!

Waiting. . .

Have you ever been worried about someone you love? Concerned for a legitimate reason? Yeah, most of us have been. Most of us know that once we get “news,” there’s waiting involved. . .and more waiting. . .and more waiting (some of us, at one point or other in our lives, have experienced “news” regarding ourselves).

It’s not fun–none of it is. So those of us who are not great at waiting get to practice patience when we’d rather be doing something else. . .like living without life’s shadow visibly lurking.

Those of you who are waiting, too, I’m here with you in spirit–connected by that reality of a global humanity. We will exercise our patience muscles and, in the meantime, pray.  We’ll try to appreciate each day for what it is. . .a gift (especially when we are surrounded by people we love and who love us).

If you are one of those individuals who blunders through life without much introspection or delving, it’s never too late to start (actually, if you wait too long, it may become too late). So while there’s still time, feel. . .think. . . go deep. . .ponder life. Appreciate what and who is good in your life. . .and be grateful.

Gray Day Musings & Neruda

 I am sitting at my desk taking a break from working. My heavy, thick glass window to the world is open. Life filters in. Jays screech about their dampened feathers, a male cardinal calls his absent mate, the wind blusters about, enters my room, restlessly rustles my papers, chills me. The sky is steel. An overt warning of hair raising, electric flashes and deep, shuddering anger that booms and bellows while raging torrents pummel.

I am swept up in the emotions of this gray afternoon. Poetry fills deep voids, gaping hollows with substance, meat, food. Then, I receive bad news. Perfect day for those pained, hurting. Falling tears may be disguised as precipitation.

Poetry is needed, read, to shake the shadows of the Grim Reaper, so close, so near my friend’s family. Attempts at poetic therapy, self-medication.  The following distracts me, a selection from one of my favorite poets filled with such passion his words often drip with seduction.

It’s good to feel you are close to me

It’s good to feel you are close to me in the night, love,
invisible in your sleep, intently nocturnal,
while I untangle my worries
as if they weretwisted nets. Withdrawn, your heart sails through dream,
but your body, relinquished so, breathes
seeking me without seeing me perfecting my dream
like a plant that seeds itself in the dark.Rising, you will be that other, alive in the dawn,
but from the frontiers lost in the night,
from the presence and the absence where we meet ourselves,something remains, drawing us into the light of life
as if the sign of the shadows had sealed
its secret creatures with flame.~Pablo Neruda