You can run but you cannot hide. 🏃🏼‍♀️🏃🏃🏼‍♀️🏃🏃🏼‍♀️🏃🏃🏼‍♀️🏃🏃🏼‍♀️

Where are you “from”?

Where is “home”?

Attribution is Honesty.

Honesty is the best Policy.

Just ask my “guy”.

Just ask your “guy”.

I’ve got a “guy”.

You’ve got a “guy”

We all got a “guy”.

But where is your “guy” from?

High or Low.

You can run, but you cannot “hide”.

”A rolling stone gathers no moss”? (sa)…

Not exactly.

Moss without truth is slippery, muddy, messy and dirty.

Why?

Here is an offer. Or two. For you.

Two stories of Attribution.

Then you decide.

Yourself.

How you prefer the strings of your life to be

Pulled. No bend or break.No no stretch or take.

Good Migration. Good Vibrations?

Crossing the border

Need not cause such fear

Remember you still have the power to steer

Adventures lie ahead that are

truly unknown

The future is never written in stone

Day by day, take it easy

And slow

Roadblocks will appear

That will test your ability

To grow.

Riding a plane in the dead

Of night

In the dark, dark sky

On my way to paradise?

May sound fun to some

Leaves me with much fright.

Why am I on a plane

In the dead of the night?

Hop on a cross country bus on

The road to nowhere

Which way, where or where

This is just plain no fair

This way or that way

to nowhere

All the while you wonder

Why are we here?

Why didn’t we stay there?

This is not home

That was not home

The butterflies in my stomach

Flutter, Hey, what the heck?

Bump. In the road.

Leap o’er it like a toad

Feel like a good cry

Look up at the sky.

Mom, Dad, Grandma, Grandpa busy.

And you start to feel dizzy

Sit down, close your eyes,

Thinking about the why’s and goodbyes

They did what they did

And now you are here

Reach deep inside your heart

Remember you can steer

Yes. You are young.

Yes. You did not have a say.

All you want to do is

Go out and play

I miss my old friends

Run, Jump, Laugh, Pretend

We would take on the world

No break, stretch or bend

Our hands we would clasp

Our hands we would lend.

We trusted each other

On earth til days end

Will I ever feel better

Will I ever know who I am

Will I grow up and be

Happy again.

In this new place

Called Paradise

Opportunity of the land

Will somebody please

Hold my hand.

A rolling stone may or may not gather moss.

More importantly.

You can run, but you cannot hide.

Honestly honesty never plays catch up. It does not have to.

Do you?

”It” will/always catches up with you.

Yesterday. Now. Always.

Best to attribute your failings to yourself. And not to your

”Guy”.

We all got a “guy.”

’Cept the one always watching you who is real. The real:

Big guy in the sky.

How do I know?

Because I got a few “folks” instead of a guy.

Who I trust

And my folks and I “get” the real

Big Guy in the Sky.

May I explain this.

To you.

Someone Sees You.

This folktale reminds us that an act of dishonesty is never truly hidden.

”Once upon a time a man decided to sneak into his neighbor’s fields and steal some wheat. “If I take just a little from each field, no one will notice. He told himself, but it will all add up to a nice pile of wheat for me.”

a pile of “what”……😳

a pile of wheat for me. So he waited for the darkest night, when thick clouds lay over the moon, and he crept out of his house. He took his youngest daughter with him.

”Daughter, he whispered, “you must stand guard, and call out if anyone sees me.”

The man stole into the first field to begin reaping, and before long the child called out, “Father someone sees you!”

The man looked all around and he saw no one, so he gathered his stolen wheat and moved onto a second field.

”Father someone sees you!” The child cried again.

The man stopped and looked all around, but once again he saw no one. He gathered more wheat, and moved to a third field.

A little while passed, and the daughter cried out, “Father someone sees you!”

Once more the man stopped his work, and looked in every direction, but he saw no one at all, so he bundled his wheat and crept into the last field.

”Father, someone sees you!” The child called again

The man stopped his reaping, looked all around, and once again saw no one. “Why in the world do you keep saying someone sees me?” He angrily asked his daughter. “I’ve looked everywhere, and I don’t see anyone.”

”Father, murmured the child,

“Someone sees you from above.”

Indeed.

The pure and innocence of a child.

With faith and grace is built into a strong and steady foundation of honesty and truth. Tested and re-tested over time. Strengthens and solidifies the honesty of an honest heart.

An honest heart will always find friends.

Not necessarily my “guy” or your “guy”. Kinda friend.

But good folks. A good folk. An honest folk. Foundational kinda “stuff”.

Anything built from wood risks warping.

As adapted and adopted from Emilie Paulson from Jean de La Fontaine (1621-1695)wrote in The Honest Woodman. Like Aesop, de La Fontaine was a master of

The Fable.

Just ask, axe, or axx, vox, box or vax?…

I ask you? What are you made of: Warpy wood. An axe made of silver.

Or are you made of Steal. IE “stealy resolve”?

May I remind you what happened to Pinocchio? The wooden doll guy. The lengthening of the nose has become one of our instantly recognizable symbols of dishonesty, thanks to the famous scene from Carlo Lorenzini ‘s classic nineteenth-century Italian tale, Pinocchio. Here the wooden puppet, with the aid of the Fairy with the Blue Hair, is recovering from the effects of having fallen in with the wrong crowd.

Indeed. Way back when. When. Indeed. Long time ago. I think. My memory is fuzzy, almost string-ey, webby.

That which we want to remember, we oftentimes forget. That which we yearn to forget, we remember like it was yesterday. Or. Five minutes ago.

The funny, string-ey things about strings, purse, purses, webs... They have a sneaky way of sneaking up on you when you may not be looking.🧐😐🫤🥱😴😲

Blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah.

Wrong crowd.

Right crowd

Be careful what you wish for?

Who you wish for?

To be holding yours….

Your strings.

The purse strings.

Worst of all

Acting as The PuppetMaster.

Puppetting your strings on and for what ever reasons

The PuppetMaster lives on in insidious ways…

Here, there, everywhere

Home, Away

Every where. And. Nowhere.

Sooooooo

Who holds your cards?…….

Your strings?

Your “wings”?

The Master of all Puppets?

The Puppet Master?

The Ultimate Puppeteer—

The Marionette.😳🫤

Who is the Marionette of

You?

who do you prefer?

Is the boss of

You?

Remembering that yours may not

Problably not

Is not

The Boss of Me.

My Big Guy really is in the Sky.

He is color blind, face blind, puppet blind.

But. He hears the gibberish, the off-distance yodeling of the PuppetMaster

Your Puppetmaster

Loud and Clear

And. Relentlessly, chasingly, exhaustingly even, tries to divert your attention from her strings to

Him

whether you choose to listen is a matter of you, your chosen strings and of

Who will not let go of

You……Or…….

Who you will not let go of…..

May be you like it, Prefer it even, keeps the chase going, exciting.

For them. For you

For your own purpose, their own purpose, selfish mis givings.

on this so called Black Friday?

The day after a day devoted to being

Thankful

Hmmmm, rolling stone gathering no moss, I have my doubts about that “arrangement”

And respectfully decline your invitation?

Never came, waited, never received it, musta gotten lost somewhere, by someone.

No worries.

’Round these parts.

Me.

I have a “guy”, good folks, honest folks, volk folks and

Not woke folks.

I prefer good old-fashioned folks, volk folks and the music they play, the folk music, sounds better to me.

No matter who holds your purse strings-“My shoulder hurts.My heart hurts, My elbow hurts, my back, my front ugh sideways, up down backwards, forwards, dizzyingly almost—I hurt all over.” My prayers are always here and there.

For you. With you.

I plan to stick with the plan.

My plan.

Ha. Ha. Ha. You belly ache laugh at me. What about your plan, you doubtfully ask.

A wing and a prayer……..

You scoff at me.

And I reply a joyful,

Yes!

With no strings attached.