you're reading...
Good Things, Love and life, Motivations, News Worthy, Other Musings

Monday Musings and Motivations — Part Twenty-Nine — Horizons

Look at that light!

Look at that light!

Have you noticed just how astounding a horizon is?  It’s a spot in the distance that you set your sights on.  It gives you hope and as you witness it, stare at it, you’re filled with a feeling of peace, contentment and awe.

It’s beautiful, celestial, amazing, awesome and new.  It’s a distant point where heaven and earth meet.  It’s a miracle, really.  And with any miracle, you exhale and joy begins its precarious journey inside you, slowly and smoothly…just like the light of a horizon — up and over the sky.

It can make you weep with relief.  I see it, you say to yourself and it’s attainable.  Finally, surely I can get to this — this sweet, indescribable AHHHH, things are going to be okay.  I’ll just keep focused on that horizon — that beckoning pinpoint of light.


Those of you who’ve been following me know what I’ve been going through for well over a month now and those who are regular followers know how I tend to get deep and metaphorical sometimes.  If that’s not your thing, you may want to clock out now because I’m going to be metaphoring all over the place in this post.  For those who like that kind of thing, be patient with me and read on.  I’ve missed y’all.  I’ve missed my routines and the normalcy that was my life.

I usually post more than I’ve been doing these past few weeks but I’ve been busy.  I’m doing so now because I want to share some joy, some good stuff.

Damn, how I love the good stuff.

Love, Pain, Up, Down, Joy, Sadness, Anger and All That Human Stuff

My Father is better.  He is a badass.  A badass.

A Cowboy is a Badass and so is my Father.

A Cowboy is a Badass and so is my Father.

I sometimes think he should have been born in a different era — like in cowboy days, where he’d get to roam big open spaces.  I don’t ever remember him NOT having callused and rough hands.  I can remember when my hand was tiny and I’d put it in his and it’d be rough, but it was comforting.  It felt the way a Dad’s hand should feel.  They’re softer now because of this “interruption” but I’ll just bet he’ll be roughing them up again — soon.

He’s as impatient as I am.  But being impatient also makes one determined.  And he is determined to get stronger and better.  And he’s seeing that horizon too — I can see that in him now.

He’s a farmer at heart.  A nature lover — everything in nature — he respects it.  He can make or build anything.  He built a house.  He’s built furniture for famous people.  He can paint pictures, wood carve.  He’s made toys for the Ronald McDonald House.  He painted a big tiger on the floor of our gym when I was in high school.  He built the set for my high school dance/prom.  He’s an observer, not a talker.  He can size someone up from observing and he’s usually right.  He’s soulful that way.  He loves rock and classical music.  He says things like, “You can’t help who you love.”

He’s always been brutally handsome — thick, blondish hair with a grin that knocked my Mom’s socks off.  They met at a skating rink.  They lived in Germany when other people back then didn’t do things like that.  They raised four girls — all of us very dramatic and Southern; we can’t help ourselves.  Daddy — the only man among five women.  He was accustomed to pee breaks outside as we were growing up — with one bathroom.

He likes simple things but can figure out very complicated things.  Knows what’s important.  Loves his girls fiercely.  He’s a protector, strong, sure.

Seeing him the way I have has been excruciating.  It made me feel helpless, hopeless and pissed.  Angry because I couldn’t fix or control any of it.  I finally realized I didn’t have control over any of it.

I have felt terrified, alone, anxious, hopeful, desperate, panicked, irrational — all that.  And the images in my head — they slap me awake at night.  I know in time, it’ll pass.  My Daddy has gone through far worse than me and I’m strong and can be strong for many people.

Those of you who’ve been through this with a parent know what I’m talking about.  Seeing your protector vulnerable and hurting takes your breath away.  Literally, I couldn’t breathe at times (when I was alone and could let the anguish out) and neither could he, literally at times.

Life Goes On

Here’s the thing you begin to realize when you go through a rough time and the fog in your head clears between those exhausting moments of wake and half-sleep.  Life goes on.  Except for you.

People keep doing what they do.  You walk around and see them but it seems as if it’s surreal.  You feel as if you’re in a dream — you know that feeling?  Maybe it’s Nature/God/Eternal Something’s way of numbing and protecting your heart until you can settle down and deal.  You think?

For a blip in this eternity, my life, as I knew it, just halted.  It’s still in that stage but I’m beginning to exhale — just a tiny bit — tiptoe around anxiously so as not to knock over another karmic something that may make something else spin out of control.

I just keep looking toward that gorgeous horizon. Sunlight In Southern Thai Sea by Sura Nualpradid

It’s there and we’ve not reached it yet, but I’m sure as hell not going to stop gazing at it now and thinking to myself, Just a little bit longer, just keep it in sight….

About Brigitte



55 thoughts on “Monday Musings and Motivations — Part Twenty-Nine — Horizons

  1. Dear Brigitte,
    I was thinking about you this weekend and wondering how you’re doing. So nice to see this post! I’m glad your dad is doing better and you’re doing better. Sending love and holding the sight of that beautiful horizon for you, too!

    Posted by Cathy Ulrich | December 10, 2012, 10:08 am
  2. Oh Brigitte! I’m so relieved that things are turning around in a positive direction. I don’t have a strong parent and definitely no one like the man you described. He sounds wonderful. A pillar of strength. No wonder you were so distraught. It’s not easy to see your hero in a helpless vulnerable position.
    I think nature, the endless cycles and rhythms are healing in a way that nothing else is. Maybe it’s because we feel the divine in nature, we know our place, we feel connected to something much larger, and it gives us perspective? The horizon with it’s sun set and sun rise is one of those beautiful God given events. I think we take it for granted.
    This was such a light and delicate and yet deep post. I sense your serenity and I’m soooo happy you’re back. 🙂

    Posted by A Gripping Life | December 10, 2012, 10:09 am
    • Hi Lisa, We’ve been corresponding through all this and I so hope your world is getting brighter and you are seeing that “horizon” as well. I am thinking of you. My Dad is a strong man. Not perfect but when times like this happen, you focus on all the good and positive. I’ve learned alot through all this and it has brought all of us closer. You are right; we do begin to see the divine — in everything — and it does help us gain perspective. Thank you for taking the time to wish me well, despite what you are going through. Know that I am “here” for you. Much love and I’m sending love, light and prayers your way. Big hugs back, Lisa. xxoo

      Posted by Brigitte | December 10, 2012, 11:52 am
  3. The horizon is not the end of the ocean. My best wishes for recovery to your dad.

    Posted by Allan G. Smorra | December 10, 2012, 10:47 am
  4. Hello Brigitte! Your loving, tender words have filled my soul this morning. I’ll continue to pray and send good vibes your way. Happy to see you back and even happier to hear your Dad is on the mend. May the good karma continue. Dads are very special men.

    Posted by unfetteredbs | December 10, 2012, 11:07 am
  5. I’ve had a beloved parent in that position, and, I’m so pleased your situation worked out well!! Your Dad sounds a wonder. Best to all of you.


    Posted by Addie | December 10, 2012, 11:10 am
  6. You’ve been missed, Brigitte! Thanks for the update on your dad. I loved the story about how your parents met at a skating rink. He painted a giant tiger on the gym floor?! Maybe sometime you’ll share his art. Sending positive thoughts your way! T.

    Posted by Theadora | December 10, 2012, 11:28 am
  7. BELIEVE. That is all you need do, Brigitte! It’s sooooooooooooooooo nice to hear your voice again. Have missed your presence here in WP land. Welcome back, my dear friend, and HUGS to you. All will be well. All IS well. Simply believe.


    Posted by Swimming In The Mud | December 10, 2012, 11:34 am
    • You know, Sue, you are so right — about the believe thing. I’ve missed you too and so look forward to getting back to reading and commenting on all my peeps blogs. It’s nice to be missed and nice to have such a beautiful and wonderful community. I am humbled and grateful. Be well, friend. xxoo

      Posted by Brigitte | December 10, 2012, 11:57 am
  8. Nice to see you metaphoring again. We need our fathers to be cowboys, metaphorically speking, the first men in our lives to show what strength is, to build us up, to fiercly love us, to teach us that determination makes all the difference. The reason I am constantly looking to what’s on the horizon, what’s next, is because that’s what my dad taught me to do. Hopeful, positive post lady!

    Posted by Honie Briggs | December 10, 2012, 12:04 pm
  9. I’m sure it’s incredibly painful to see your dad suffer such troubling times. I feel for you and hope everything turns out well.

    Posted by Carrie Rubin | December 10, 2012, 12:29 pm
  10. I am very very glad to hear your dad’s on the mend. What a role model!

    Posted by Sandee | December 10, 2012, 1:09 pm
  11. So glad to have you back and I hope that things get better. Sending good thoughts!

    Posted by ApplePieAndNapalm | December 10, 2012, 1:56 pm
  12. Hey Brigitte, I hope that your father continues to improve. His illness on top of the hurricane were a real one-two punch for you. I admire your resiliency and lack of whiny-ness during these challenging times.

    Posted by lameadventures | December 10, 2012, 1:58 pm
  13. Your dad’s a great teacher, dear Brigitte. Continue to pay attention: he’s teaching you more about strength in his apparent weakness than he ever could when he appeared big and strong! Nice to have you back, my friend! xoxoM

    Posted by Margarita | December 10, 2012, 2:29 pm
  14. I was just thinking about you 🙂 I love your metaphorical musings,and I am so happy to hear your Dad is on the mend. Keep the horizon in sight – even when you can’t see it, it’s still there 🙂

    Posted by sarafoley | December 10, 2012, 2:38 pm
  15. Your dad sounds wonderful. So glad he’s on the upswing.., and my prayers for his full recovery…and your happiness.

    Posted by char | December 10, 2012, 3:00 pm
  16. It’s so good to see you back, Brigitte, and you can wax metaphorically whenever you please. I think Margarita said it beautifully—your dad’s still teaching you as you and your family go through these difficult times. I hope he’ll soon be fully recovered and you can share many wonderful days together in 2013 and beyond.

    Posted by jmmcdowell | December 10, 2012, 7:24 pm
  17. Dear, Brave Brigitte: I don’t know much about watching our parents suffer, but I know quite a lot about having our world stop spinning while everyone else goes on as if nothing has changed. It is all quite, well, quite humbling. I’m so sorry you have been through so much pain, and so happy you have found the horizon that gives you strength. One of my favorite poems is by Vikram Seth,

    All you who sleep tonight
    Far from the ones you love,
    No hand to left or right
    And emptiness above –

    Know that you aren’t alone
    The whole world shares your tears,
    Some for two nights or one,
    And some for all their years.

    You, my dear, are never really alone, pain or joy.

    Posted by michelleatplay | December 10, 2012, 9:18 pm
    • Michelle, it is humbling, isn’t it? WOW. Absolutely love the poem you took the time to share. It is beautiful and just what I needed. You are so kind and thoughtful for giving me that gift. Much love, my friend — thank you.

      Posted by Brigitte | December 11, 2012, 12:18 am
  18. So happy to hear your Dad is back on the mend and ready to come back punching! Love the visual of horizons and as usual, you manage to write on a topic that so fits what’s going on in my own life. Not sure how you do that, unless you just have that good of a sixth sense (or you’re psychic). 😉 Wishing you and your family a blessed season this month.

    Posted by lillianccc | December 10, 2012, 9:24 pm
  19. what a beautiful wonderful post–so heartfelt and raw and compassionate — you have a wonderful capacity to say just the right things – your dad sounds like a great dad–and I am glad things are looking up for him–I like how you describe his hands–it tells so much –many hugs

    Posted by on thehomefrontandbeyond | December 10, 2012, 11:50 pm
    • Hey Lou Ann, so glad you enjoyed it and what a beautiful compliment you’ve paid me. My sister read it this morning and she said the same thing. And you and she both saying that — well, I must’ve written it “right” then. Thank you for your wonderful personal emails as well, Lou Ann. You are such a dear friend and it has meant so much. xxoo

      Posted by Brigitte | December 11, 2012, 12:21 am
  20. That’s a beautiful post. wishing a speedy recovery to your Dad!! I’ve always believed that sometimes its easier to bear pain ourselves than to see our loved ones suffer. And its good to see you back. Take care!!

    Posted by hemadamani | December 11, 2012, 1:34 am
  21. Oh, Brigitte, I’ve been wondering about you and thinking you must be going through a lot. This is a beautiful post, hearing you talk about your dad. It’s obvious there’s so much love between you and it warms my heart to read it. I wish him well. Hang in there. You are so strong. Good to see you back here.

    Posted by The Bumble Files | December 11, 2012, 2:45 am
  22. Wonderful! Wonderful to hear that your dad is doing so well. Wonderful to read that you’re finding your groove again after a season of tumult. Wonderful to think about the impact your insights on these hard times could have on someone else who may feel hopelessly lost in similar circumstances. Best wishes for a continued recovery for all involved!

    Posted by Keenan Rodgers | December 11, 2012, 9:56 am
  23. So good to know you’re dad is better. And you’re right about the horizon. Even if it’s still a long way off, it’s out there all right, just so we can look toward it when we need it most.

    Posted by Deliberately Delicious | December 11, 2012, 10:21 pm
  24. I’m glad you’re able to breathe a little, Brigitte—seeing your parents suffering is paralyzing and shocking in a way that you can’t really articulate sometimes. Here’s to the horizon ahead, my friend.

    Posted by Madame Weebles | December 12, 2012, 7:21 pm
  25. Hi honey 🙂

    I’ve nominated you for Blog Of The Year 2012!


    Hope you decide to accept 🙂


    Posted by Vikki (The View Outside) | December 16, 2012, 4:45 am

Leave a Reply to Brigitte Cancel reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

Join 1,795 other subscribers

For my Gracious Guide to Benevolent Blogging


For Monday Musings

Copyright Notice

Copyright 2012-Infinity/All Rights Reserved forever and always, unless noted

Word of the Day

the mood or character of a place, situation, or piece of music:
“The music has a soothing vibe.”
“I didn’t like the place – it had bad vibes.”
%d bloggers like this: