1268. My soul is smitten with wonderment, spellbound, and bedazzled by the glorious serenade of the rhythm of life. ~Isabella Rose at: https://isabellarosephotography.net

The art of being happy lies in the power of
extracting happiness from common things.
~Henry Ward Beecher

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I too am “smitten with wonderment,” not only by what we deem as extraordinary but also by ordinary things. What is common in Creation anyway? To me it’s all miraculous so I live pretty “muchly” in a constant state of smittenness as well as in one in which I am spellbound and bedazzled by things common and uncommon. Now before somebody points out the obvious that there are also things bad and ugly and heartbreaking in this world, let me just go ahead and agree that it’s true. But aren’t we all given opportunities to change some of that? And that doesn’t change the fact that there is a world out there which has always been and still is overflowing with things about which one can be smitten. For example, when I started writing this I wondered what “wowing” kind of photo I might find in my archives to go along with the post, but before I got very far into my search I found this photo of a Zinnia and knew that it was the one I wanted to use even though most gardeners would call a Zinnia just a plain old, ordinary flower, hardly comparable with something more exquisite. But just look at the color and the petals that resemble a frilly, ballerina’s skirt. And also it’s one of those photographs in which unexpected background elements add to the beauty with backlighting that creates a kind of charming, dramatic mystique! And surely most everyone remembers as a child squealing with delight, as in being smitten, with the simplest of finds, and probably more than few of us even remember picking some plain old, common flowers as a treasure to take to our mothers or grandmothers.

It is my pleasure to tell you about the miraculous signs and wonders that the Most High God has performed for me. ~Daniel 4:2  ✝

1115.Two of my favorite things are sitting on porch, smoking a pipe, and playing my harmonica. ~Edited excerpt from Abraham Lincoln

I return to my front porch to find
the place where the air smells sweeter and
the sun feels warmer than at any other
bend in life’s long road.
~John Sarris

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After the end of a long hot day
At the end of my rope – with nerves all frayed
I sat on the porch…to rest a spell
As the sun slipped…slowly behind the hill.
Calmed…by the lingering…after glow
I watched…the star-speckled night unfold.
Crimson streaks…on a sky of blue
Melted…in a thousand…different hues
That got lost…in the dark…without the light
Leaving…just their shadows…in the darkness.
And in fields…of clover…across the way
The crickets…began…their serenade
As fireflies danced…with sheer delight
Glowing…in love…with the ebony night.
And there…ahead…at the end of the road
Above the bridge…where the river flows
It rose – like magic – before my eyes
An orange moon…so big…it filled the sky.
~Edited poem by Elaine George

You(God) know when I sit and when I rise; you perceive my thoughts from afar. ~Psalm 139:2  ✝

**Images via Pinterest and the internet; collage created by Natalie

Music’s Mystery


I’ve heard it said that only human beings have been given the gift of music; that only people create songs, sing and serenade their souls with this most magical and uplifting form of communication and communion. Yet, should we not consider the song of the lark? The haunting ballads of the whales? The mournful call of the wolf? The robin’s lyrical laugh at dawn and dusk? The crickets that serenade the nighttide? The burbles of monkeys swaying in the trees? The laughing of the hyena?

Who is to say that in their melodic tunes, caterwauls, howls, wails, and other worldly vocalizations there is not some measure of music. Why should we be the only ones to sing praise, to croon our love, and to bewail our distress? How can we know, in truth, in honesty, that the deliberate scree of the hawk, the piercing bugle of the elk, the chattering of raccoon and ferret, and the murmurings of infrasonic elephant calls is not music to their ears?

Music is a form of communication that lifts the soul, expresses emotion, and brings one being into contact with another being. If this is, indeed, the definition of music (of which it is a form) then can that being not be one other than human? Does not one wolf join another when it sings? Does not the whale song change season to season and year to year, picked up by another whale to be carried on? Does not one roaring lion inspire the entire pride by its lusty cry?

Consider what the morning would sound like without the sweet music of the birds. Contemplate what the summer night might be when not a single chirrup, trill, drone or buzz lilted through the air. Ponder how deep and lonely the oceans would be without the drifting, breathtaking songs of the whales. Can you even imagine a mountain landscape without hearing the echoing howl of a wolf or the bubbling laugh of the loon?

If these sounds, that can captivate us and uplift our thoughts, our hearts and even our souls, are not music and do not do the same for all those who hear them, regardless of race, than perhaps, we must follow that course of logic and say that cave paintings are not art, tap is not dance, improvisation is not acting and free verse is not poetry.

Or perhaps, Music Teaches the Soul what the Heart Feels and Guides the Heart with what only the Soul can Truly Know.

Music’s Mystery is by Morgan at:  http://booknvolume.com