and it's time for another Monday Mimisms on the old blog channel.
As if
The more I try to embrace new avenues and platforms, the more I keep coming back to this blog. Some of the best decisions of my life stem from this blog. Some of the happiest moments of my life were on this blog. My hardest heartaches spilled on this blog.
These pages hold truth. They hold substance. They hold memory. They hold history.
They hold me.
All the old editing software has changed. AI dictates my grammar, suggests my revisions, punctuates my prissy online diary, and attempts to steer me in a predictable forward direction...
when all I really want to do is for it to leave me alone and let me write -
Unhindered
My words
My way
When have I ever been predictable?
"May I help you with this paragraph?" asks the Intrusion of all Intrusions
"No thank you, Mr. Bot," said She, " I am just now getting used to your presence. I don't know you. You don't know me. I don't even know your Grandma. I couldn't possibly ask for your help if I don't know your Grandma. We won't be collaborating on a steamy ending nor a dubious beginning down Literary Lane.
I just want to write."
"I don't even know your real name."
"But I can do things so much faster, Ms. Lenox.
Ask me anything!"
"Well, if you insist. My heart- my human heart- is having a meltdown this afternoon. Do you have any indication of which specific cliff I'm going to fall from first? Do I need a parachute? Or will it be a casual tumbling down the rabbit hole....Do you see the memories in my soul? Do you feel them? Can you predict which heartbeat matters most, or if, even, I'll still have a beating heart by sundown? What is your data diagnosis, O-Intrusive-One? I've taken all the aspirin I can take. I've called you in the morning, in the evening, and at each crisis in-between. Your isms are not helping. You keep vomiting back to me everything I've ever said on the Internet or previously written anyway and anywhere in the whole wide world. You know my run-ons by heart. And that damn ellipsis horror at the top of my blog, you know it, too. It follows me like a pesky grammar gang, stalking my intentions, marking my territory, mocking my style.
And besides, what you write is boring. It's a waste of time. It's redundant. Why does the world want to hear me repeat myself again and again and again? That is not writing; that is regurgitation.
Oh, and theft.
That too.
Anyone can be me
when prompted correctly.
I'm working on a poem about love. Romantic love.
Can you anticipate the exact moment my tears will well up in the midst of the feels and overtake the cautious clicking of the pen? Because it will happen. Are you ready for the big, ugly cry?
Or will you try to steer me away from its power?
Can you read between the lines and catch what my heart heard him say?
All momentum stopped at the sound of his voice.
Can you write that for me? Are you privvy to my privies in the only way my pen knows to speak?
Can you remember the look in his eyes?
The breaths caught up in moments of knowing? Can you?
How much do you know, O-Swift-Machine?
How much do you know?
Will you offer psychological-isms based on Freud and Jung and self-help books? Or may I proceed with the likes of Rumi on my lips? May I conjure up some Jesus on the way to the next sentence or sit with Buddha under the Bodhi tree? I have all day, you see. My memory is long in places you haven't seen.
I need the reckoning. The shudder. The quake. The flush.
Can you feel it when it comes?
Will you wait for me?
I didn't think so.
Because I am caught and captured in the knowing, I never want to be free. My heart wants to beat out and bleed out this overwhelming angst and massive ancient love on papyrus.
Please leave your link below and in the comment section so that we may visit you.
Dona Nobis Pacem ~ The Tundra Year
When we started peace globes in 2006, I wrote a post called The Silence of Peace about the influence of my beloved grandfather on my formative years and how he shaped the way I see the world. He's been gone a long time and I still miss him so much, but his words and actions live on through the peace globes that fly each year around the Internet world, requiring us to think about peace and what it means to us.
My mission was to see the words Dona nobis pacem (Latin for Grant us Peace) scrawled on the roughly 70 million blogs reported to exist at that time, just for one day. A simple idea of unity and intention. I was a naive new blogger, overly-ambitious, trusting in the goodness of people and the wisdom of goodness. My heart was full of expectation and joy.
Were there 70 million posts? No. But words hold power, whether seven or seventy. What happened over the years proved quality over quantity matters. We've become a lovely worldwide community of connected poets, writers and artists. When Blogging moved to many other social media platforms, the peace globes moved with them. And yet, each year, we find ourselves here again to blog for peace and share our thoughts with the world.
It's been my honor to speak peace with you all these years.
In the year 2025, I write to answer the question, 'What brings me peace?'
only to find that I've landed in the same truth. Full Circle.
Deep down on the inside of me I could feel it as I wrote it again. In 2006, I wrote about the day I first felt real peace in my life. And this year, it all came tumbling out on the blog page again, along with my tears - vivid memories, no abandon, no regret, now solidly entrenched in the core of this little blog movement. I wrote. You wrote. We all said the same thing from 214 countries and territories. Then came The Doll Box, river words, Papa's fedora and much much more.
So I honor my grandfather, my Papa, today.
Returning to the framework he built from day one, in my writer's eye I could see a wooden railing in a little country church, graced by the presence of a kneeling praying grandfather, who wore a white starched shirt and all the faith he had on his sleeve. I traveled back in time to a memory that is as clear and palpable today as it was in the 1970s and as it reappeared on this blog in 2006. What have I learned in twenty years? The.power.of.words.
One night he took me by the hand and led me to the altar with him.
He knelt down on one knee, elbow resting on the other, and silently voiced his heart. Tightly grasping my hand with his left hand, I knelt beside him, snuggled under the arm of his tweed jacket, surrounded by the presence of many such men who sought God that Fall revival night. In a country church in the middle of the middle of nowhere on a crisp autumn full moon evening, all of Heaven came to hear Papa and his friends talking to their Maker in worship and reverence.
They were surrendered.
I was mesmerized.
A buzz of spiritual language filled the room, groanings and cries, hallelujahs, amens, tears and pleas, laughter, joy, community. Then just as suddenly, and much louder ~ silence and stillness.
A Presence fell.
Is there anything more beautiful than a room full of true worshippers in unity, unashamed, locked in, gathered around a sacred wooden altar, holding court with God Almighty? I think not. I know not.
What a privilege it was to behold, to experience. My fourteen-year-old hippie-bent soul wanted more. From that day on, I ran after that feeling.
I felt the power, as undeniable as the appliqued flower-power daisy plastered to my jeans, as sweet as the smell of Papa's tobacco pipe-infused tweed coat, and as safe as the crook of his arm; the place where I loved to linger, where I learned to listen in the wee hours of a work morning as he gathered his things for the day, whispering "Dear Gracious Heavenly Father" as only a granddaughter can hear, as he lovingly lifted lyrics to Heaven on my behalf. They covered me. He covered me. Jesus covered both of us. Those words held connection to eternity. In turn, those utterings and unctions kept him reaching higher and higher. And I kept reaching for him.
Because he was the place of peace that I needed.
A place where his unconditional love yielded safety and calm.
A place where no separation exists.
He knew how to find it.
And I wanted it.
OVer the years he taught me how to find it by his example,
so that when he couldn't be with me, I could find it myself.
I know that Presence to this day, because Papa birthed it in me. He still holds my hand and I still hear his voice, rising and falling, gently squeezing my small fingers with each inhalation and nuance of prayer. Wherever the Spirit led him, I went too.
It was so holy I could barely breathe.
I've spent this entire year deliberately inserting myself into that space again. Distractions have plagued me, physical struggles have been challenging, sickness and stress. The toll on my mind and body has been significant. This has been a year of pain and falling down, only to rise and fall again, reaching for that space of quiet and strength.
I call it The Tundra Year -
a long cold winter of the soul and a short cool summer.
And yet....inside of me an arsenal of weaponry appeared, quite boldly, and firmly at my disposal. It smelled of wooden benches and tobacco tweed.
By the bedside on my knees, gently walking in the forest, weeping with frustration, calling on my Maker, hunkering down into healing Scriptures, studying remedy and science, writing, angry whining, falling again, questioning, rising and starting over.
Has your faith ever been tested in the fire? This was my year.
Then one day, just as surely as winter snow creates new intricate patterns on leaves in the forest,
a renewing of my mind fiercely began.
But it wasn't easy. The process caught up to my jagged wonky physical complexities and made the battle more intense for awhile. Like a flash of dangerous lightning attempting to disguise itself inside thunder, once more it tried to sap my strength and make me weak.
I began to say it. I am strong. I am strong. I am strong.
I began to believe it. I began to walk in it. I stopped falling down.
Until I landed in the Grace that had been there all along.
I am on a healing journey. I am strong. I am strong. I am strong. I am strong!
My journey of faith and prayer and peace began at that altar of supplication in the 70s, where I witnessed what it is, what it looks like, what it sounds like, what it feels like to focus energy and love and compassion with all your might before a Mighty Creator.
Likewise, we focus energy and love and peace and compassion with all our might on the world we share on the cusp of each November.
I am strong. I am strong. I am strong.
You must believein the power of your words. Say something. Speak right things over yourself, your family and your world. See yourself healed. See the world healed. Pray for your neighbors and your enemies. Lift your thoughts to a higher realm, where peace and rest is not only possible but expected.
Papa expected the world to change when he prayed.
So do I.
There is no other option.
Where's your altar?
Does your heart flow from there?
"Thou hast set all the borders of the earth: thou hast made summer and winter." (Psalm 74.17)
My Tundra has been no difference or worse than most everyone on the planet this year. This verse gives me courage. Papa would approve.
Why did he feel compelled to pull me to the altar with him that night? Why did he hold on so tight, forming an unbroken chain between my hand, his hand, and God's hand? It remains.
His act of love nd obedience changed the course of my life. In that moment I found God's peace for the first time in my life. Transfer. Synergy. Life-altering, Truth. Only Divine LOVE does that.
I still believe in the power of words as has been our motto for twenty years. I believe in the collective power of intention. I believe in you as you speak Dona Nobis Pacem one more time into the atmosphere. One voice. One subject. One day.
Happy 20th anniversary, Dear Peace Bloggers!
What started from a bowl of Papa's earth marbles has gathered writers and artists from all walks, religions and backgrounds speaking into each other and for our troubled world, just as Papa spoke his prayers and love into me. In summer. And in cold dark winters.
Powerful words spoken in love must make a difference ..... breathing and birthing and shaking and sifting towards change - in our own hearts first, where it always begins- until we reach the dawning of a new peace-laden world for everyone.
God speed that day and God bless each and every one of you.
All 2025 Blog4Peace participants! Leave links below and in the comments.
NOTE: 2024 links are included in this widget as well!
Go to Blog4peace.com for lots of information and examples of peace globes from prior years.
November 4, 2025 bloggers and social media posters from all over the world will blog for peace. We will speak with
one voice
one subject
one day
We've been speaking peace for 20 years.
It's a beautiful thing.
Please email me or message me on Facebook if you have questions.
And now for a special 20th anniversary challenge!
It's called the Blog4Peace SPEAK LOVE challenge and will run from today until the eve of Blog4Peace. Since our 2025 theme is SPEAK LOVE, I've committed to doing one small (or large) thing each day to experience what it means to walk in love. I invite you to do the same! Please share on your blogs and social media if you'd like to participate during the days leading up to November 4th (not a requirement, just lovingly suggested) Are you intentionally doing the love walk with your families, yourselves, your communities, OUR WORLD? I'm going to give it my best this month.
There can be no peace without love.
I want to be intentional. I want to make a positive difference, even in the smallest of ways, to as many as I can, as often as I can.
I'll be sharing my experiences during the month of October on my Facebook page.
Come on! We need this!
Day 1 Blog4Peace SPEAK LOVE Challenge!
Join me each day now until November 4th
Here's mine ~ Day 1
Waiting at the doctor's office. I'm fine, just in for a checkup.
My goal today is to smile at 5 people with my eyes (above the mask) and see if they smile back.
It's so good to be back on the blog again after a self-imposed hiatus; I've had time to reflect and re-assess my life and purpose. What began as a promising year of publishing and writing turned into unexpected postponement. A few months of rest and reflection has been good for me in many ways. This space will take on a new purpose (me-thinks) very soon.
New Seasons. New vibes. New inspiration.
Thank you for being patient while I adjust my direction. I missed you!
I am thankful to be alive and relatively healthy, still here, wanting to do many many more things in my life! Being single at this stage of life is the best! And the worst.....Sometimes I think I'd enjoy the company of a man on a regular basis, then I remember cooking obligatory dinners (when I'd much rather cook together), checking with someone else before I make a decision (like I would), coordinating family plans and events with extended families...nd a million other small add-on stressors that you gloss over when you live with someone else.
But if I fall in love
I shall reconsider
(wink)
After being happily alone for more than twenty years, I've realized how blessed I am in the Late Fall of my life. I retired from teaching six years ago. I love a life without alarm clocks, bells and cafeteria food.
I enjoy my own company, but I do get lonely from time to time.
I love spending time with my kids and grandchildren, ages 20, 13 and 5 - college, middle school and kindergarten. Never a dull moment at the dinner table.
Baby Boy is majoring in Computer Science, Beans is majoring in girls and BabyBree is majoring in Barbie. Perfect! They teach me about video games and I sneak in a peace globe conversation from time to time. I want them on that rain ya see......
Which season are you in?
Which season have you enjoyed the most?
I've noticed, also, that people from my past keeping showing up. I'm stumbling over them in the grocery store and thrift store. Long lost relatives with news to tell, high school friends, friends of friends and acquaintances that should have been more than that; maybe we'll get a do-over. Who knows? Is it truly a coincidence? Or does the Universe have a rhyme and reason?
when learning to decorate a blog with colored fonts and photos from PhotoBucket and ImageChef was as high-tech as we could go. But we helped each other through it and some of us even learned to code from scratch. Technorati was everything and memes rocked our world. ReMEMEber?
I wish you the best of health and true happiness in our twentieth year of friendship. I think I know most of you well. I've met several of you in the real world. A pleasure!
June 4, 2008
