White Giants

I found myself captivated by white giants today. I was moved and also inspired by their beauty and presence in the landscape of sagebrush. Its massive stainless steal arms cut through the air with precision and speed soaking up the wind passing through them. In the distance stood many more of these giants spotting the foreground and disappearing at the horizon line. They stole the stage from the distant mountains and rolling prairies that nature had originally set up for the eye’s pleasure. The anomaly these towering forms made was part of the loveliness about them.

They stood out, they made themselves known to any eye that see’s them. I envy them for that. How would that be? Something so great, so peaceful but so powerful, being a force that gets respect by simply existing. If only a person could be as humble as they are with the power the hold. I think that there are people like that.

I think that there are men and women that we can trust, that we can rely on, that know what humility is. People that grew up working hard and know what values are, and actually live them. People that mean what they say, and say what they mean. You know the people I am talking about. You have them in your life. They surround us in our friend circles, in our classrooms, and in our homes. Have you ever wondered, “Am I someone’s giant?”

We can never know at all times who is watching us, who is learning from the words we say, and who is copying our actions. We must always strive to be giants constantly, even when we think we are alone. We are not just the sage brush that is dwarfed by the towering bodies above them. That’s what the world wants us to believe about ourselves. We are individuals that are great and that are capable of doing great things for our fellow men and women. We need to raise above all the words, and all the pressure to become the definitive leaders and examples that we know we can be. We need to stand out for those who need to see that there is hope, and that there is good. We need to be the giants in the landscape that is our towns, cities, schools, and churches.

Be that example, BE THAT GIANT.

White Giants

The Beauty of Change

Have you ever gone down a road that you have never been down before and find yourself amazed at what you find? Shops and restaurants that you have never been to, or scenery that you thought couldn't be there some how always seem to adorn these untraveled roads and paths. So many times we get so caught up in the day to day routines and seldom change it up. We become slaves to a daily trend of monotony and discontentment.

I found myself on a road I have never been on today, at first it was somewhat of a let down, and then I made the turn into the country. It was one of the most beautiful scenes I have witnessed in a long time. It was a rainy day and the clouds were heavy and lying low over the mountains hiding their peaks in a mask of whispy white vapor. The mountains met the ground below transitioning from the last little patches of snow into a green spring paradise. There were puddles of water that formed miniature ponds that reflected the greys and white’s above. Trees littered the landscape making groups of black snarled abstract art pieces. Some appeared to be reaching upward trying to grasp whatever water out of the air they possible could before the clouds moved on.

An old wood fence followed the road and stuck out silhouette like against the grass and weeds. There were gold spots of moss thriving on the water soaked posts that captured my eyes gaze for a moment and then they moved up. A row of power lines disappeared and reappeared in and out of the fog draped mountain side and eventually came down into a small town. The countryside looked like a painting.

I will always cherish the short moment I was on that road. I know that the chances of seeing it like that again are pretty rare. I have forgotten the great pleasure that can come from just simply going down a new road. I want to keep things changed up and different. I know it will be hard; our natural state is to go into a routine, to stick to a plan. Why do we conform to it? We always let it determine what we do and where we go. I know I have had times where I go off into a thought and find myself at my destination and don’t even remember half the drive. Its things like that that make me understand that I really need change.

To many times I think we are afraid of change. If we change it won’t be the same as we like it, it will be too different. I know as a young child I had a very difficult time with change. I hated having to go back to school after the summer break had tempered down. When my oldest sibling left it took me quite a while to adjust. I am much better now but the sting of change still gets to me on occasion. I want to embrace change. My arms are wide open and I am ready. I am ready to stumble upon that new road. Are you ready to find that road of your own? Take a deep breath and get ready. You never know the beauty that is just around the corner waiting to be discovered.

The Book

This is a little bit of a older poem but i really like it and i think that it would fit in here nicely

The Book
By-Damen Geisler

i found a book
it was wrinkled and
torn at the seem
i wonder to myself
under who's arm
was it carefully stowed?
in who's bag was
it neatly kept?
was it a lad in
his finest years?
or a lass who's
tears splashed on
the whitest paper.
nay,was it a
professor in the
finest of academia
of the day. wait,
with in the cover
tells the master
the scribbles sharp
and worn. it was so
vague i couldn't
read it. i dusted
off the pages,
and closed
the faded cover,
that will forever
hold it's secret.

What do you want me to write about?

What are somethings you want me to write about?

A Moment from the Past

It was a brisk morning at an elementary in the little town of Rigby. The name wouldn’t even matter now, the building is long gone. It is now an extensive canvas of white lines on asphalt. It’s weird to see the empty space there. I can still see the ghost of the busty yellow bricked building. Memories surround the parking lines that now cover the very playground where I made my first school friends. I can stand here and almost hear the laughter.Out of all my memories there one stands out the most. My first crush. Even though it was for a day, I probably will never forget it.

She had a pink ribbon in her hair, white aster, buckle in the front shoes,and a perfect smile. I remember watching from behind the slide and jungle gym. She was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen. Wind rushed past her as she pushed through autumn air. Her hands held the cold chain tight, white from the grip. I wonder if she even knew I existed. She would go up, blending into the sun and clouds, then down, pulled by gravity sweeping over the wood chip covered ground. Her feet would then pull up as she got ready to pump forward again.

The steam of my breath appeared and disappeared against the cold steal of the slide as I peered over it. She went back and pumped forward. Her hands released from the chains. The numbing air held her up for a moment, and then she fell. She laughed as she caught herself. Her friends all jumped from their swings and met her on the ground. She turned toward me and caught my eyes. I caught my breath.

It lasted only a moment and then she looked away. Light gleamed off her hair as she ran toward the school, across the four square court, and past the tether ball poles. The bell rang snapping me out of my stare. I lost her in a sea of children all hurrying to the door. I emerged from my spot and hurried as fast as I could through the crowd.

She was gone.

If the Shoe fits

Fairytales, an escape for the love sick women. A glimpse into the life they wish they could lead. A life where they never would have to worry because they are carried on by an ever fruitful plot line of hope. Are these stories masking too many realities with vampires and prince charmings? Every girl wants that perfect man. You know the one with the idyllic sparkling masculine body, beautiful features, and a knack for always showing up just in time. Far too often these men come knocking and they just want to hold out. What if there is something better out there? We are men; there are four different models of us. Every once in a while you will find a hybrid but that is most of the time only an acception in movies and on television. Most men once being themselves replicate what you would find in a vaudeville show flaunting their various weaknesses.

It’s always fascinated me to know that the Beast had to kidnap Belle for her to see his inner beauty. Is this the extent that we must to go too? We have to try and captivate you just long enough so you can see what really makes us worth you’re while. We do it. It is in our nature to do this. Some are bred to naturally accomplish this feat without even lifting a finger. It’s like they have a stash of pheromones hidden in their breast pocket. Some would say that the only reason Belle loved the beast because she wanted to fix him. So then what if the Beast wasn’t broken?

I have often wondered what if the glass slipper fit on one of the terrible step sister’s. What would have come of Cinderella? Would she have remained in the cinders and filth into old age? Wrinkling peacefully like the rest of the kingdom? Sometimes the shoe doesn’t even fit on who you think Cinderella is. You can push and shove but it isn’t going to make it. Go for the step sister.

Well if the shoe fits. Then it fits.