When you look out at the stars and ask yourself, "Is there life?", it's like standing on a beautiful beach on the planet and asking if there's another beach anywhere else. Just because you can't see it doesn't mean it doesn't exist. The processes that would create multiple beaches on your planet are the same processes that would create multiple planets that would have life.
                                      ..........KRYON.......


There has been a huge gap in writing on this blog due to the grieving process I am going through. It is difficult to deal with the omission of a soul that was very much a part of my journey on this planet. My beloved Richie is now in another dimension and I am finding myself trying to open up spiritual doors to reach him.  I can't settle for comforting words and prayers, I have to settle with what is my birthright, soulright, my creative right that the Source gave me. So I have been a bit of a nuisance to Creator and whatever other Beings have heard......


As I walk down  my garden path and remember bits and pieces of my life I still question like I did as a small child, all the reasons why I have to believe what religions have expounded on me. I am now at a point in my life, call it older in age or  maybe more wise, but at the stage were I am stronger and feel more powerful.....


I knew the stirrings of grief as I was growing up seeing some of my friends die from certain diseases and accidents. From standing underneath a bedroom window yelling up to a friend and her parent saying she was sleeping and couldn't talk to seeing it happen on a playground thinking it was just a freak thing then later it turned into a blood poisoning situation that ended his life.


Okay so we come here for God knows how many years and then move on......


Don't ask me where we move on to.......


And I am here, walking down my inner garden path with a crossroad of Memory Lane in view....

Flowers that make you laugh.....

Hermes Trismegistus: 
The true meaning of life. Well, to put it simply, just use each moment to be the best person you can be and have lots of fun doing it. Always bring the light of truth, love, and wisdom with you and you will move mountains...........<<<


As I am writing I am listening to a bird that sounds like LAUGHTER.....amazing. I have honestly never heard this bird before. It is a high pitched belly laugh.  So it only enforces what I want to write about which is a healing to the body and came easily in the Keegan household as a daughter to Grace and Percy, sister to Janette.


Since mum was a social person, yes a Gemini like myself, she loved being with others for a chat of gossip and a good laugh. She was also known to get up out of her seat and head for the piano either at home or in a local pub for a sing along. 
"Hey Grace, play that song we heard the other day...."
"Hum it to me so I can pick it up ...." said mum as she played by ear without a single musical lesson in her lifetime.
It was wonderful actually, as a kid, playing outside and someone would say "that's your mum playing on the piano, she sounds good...."  as Gracie pounded on the keys with the windows wide open.


When we emigrated to Cleveland Ohio in April of 1958 she brought her social life along. As some of her dearest friends decided to follow her and mum obliged with sponsoring and helping them get a good start on their new American journey. As the years went by the gatherings would get bigger and the laughter stronger. Only thing missing was the piano. She couldn't bring that on the Brittanic ocean liner and our house didn't house one. I guess the 'bar' took its place, as I think back on it. People would hang on to the bar telling jokes as merriment of fluids flowed and throats gurgled over the onslaught of adult beverages and off color jokes.


As I reflect in my garden walk I remember now the seeds I planted in my special patch. The Happy Flower seeds. Once blooming the perfume invaded your nostrils if you walked by and little chuckles of laughter would pop out of your mouth with uncontrollable spasms.  What fun.  Don't dare take your shoes off and walk in their soil or bend down to smell the different colored petals as you are likely to let out the most outrageous bellows of mirth from both ends of the spectrum of the human body.


Well this is my garden and I create what I want and there has to be a portion of it for Laughter alone.


In my Garden of Life I have met and known so many Happy Flowers. Don't need to name them I just know the joy they bring and uplift your dark moods either with a word, a hug or a bad joke but you end up laughing and soon the healing starts.


Master Hermes is right....you can move mountains with Truth, Love and Wisdom and also Laughter....

Stop to pause........

“If you write for God you will reach many men and bring them joy. If you write for men--you may make some money and you may give someone a little joy and you may make a noise in the world, for a little while. If you write for yourself, you can read what you yourself have written and after ten minutes you will be so disgusted that you will wish that you were dead.” 
― Thomas Merton, Seeds of Contemplation


As I pause along my path in life I realize I am now on a different journey. The one before started at 19yrs of age married to my Richard. Now he has left, shed his mortal body and exists someplace else. Besides leaving a void in my life he left me with the strength to move on....believe in myself....trust my own instincts more and bounce off my thoughts within myself.....Some days I can't believe he has gone and others I am at peace knowing he isn't suffering anymore.

His passing has put my own life into a deeper understanding of just how fragile we all are. Before I had him as my rock with someone to lean on when I needed that security and questions answered. The times I had pain waiting for a lab test results or falling on ice training for a marathon breaking bones with torn ligaments: he was there to hold me, lift me up, keep me safe and loved.  Now it's just me. Yes I have our children to try and take his place but it's not the same, is it?

So my new journey has me pondering more than ever these days as I wander down this garden path of  Life.

It doesn't matter who reads these words as all it is is an expression of my heart, my soul. It matters the Father, our Source, knows it and as for me I can look back on the words and either laugh or think folly of my meanderings. Just like TM said in the above quote.

It was through TM's writings about God and his spiritual path THE SEVEN STOREY MOUNTAIN that was gifted to me by my sister's boyfriend when I was 15 as my sister must have told him how weird I was for a teenager, not running off after boys but into the spiritual stuff. It was rare back then, not like it is today. So he must have taken pity on me. Looking back I wish he had written a message inside that book as I still have it. The book completely changed my life and journey. I went the route of TM, converted to Catholicism like he did and even sought the monastic life like he did. In great frustration my simple prayer was Father show me the way...is it the married life or the monastic one?  Couple days later I met Richard. Only our eyes met as he walked out of the computer room and I walked in. But that's another story. A voice inside my head said ONE DAY YOU WILL MARRY HIM.  And I sure did.

It's amazing what one picks up in memories as you contemplate your walk down a garden path, stop to smell or touch what you have created in your mind; flowers that don't exist on planet Earth, weeds that sing "I am worth something", stones that beg to be touched, the humming of nature, the birds, just everything. My garden path is my own reality. Who I meet along the way is all part of my dream and that role besides being real to me stirs up a memory, thought, idea or what needs to be at that moment.

I like to believe Charles Dickens had his own Garden Path.  For he did say his characters were from people he met, saw, felt while taking his walks on the streets of London. The ineffable names he came up with most surely was from his "internal" garden path....one has to laugh. He made me laugh and cry reading his words and learning about his life. His sorrow when a character died, his isolation at times over his creation when it wasn't going well and the joys when it was.  Gee, as a soul trapped inside a bag of flesh and bones, one has to view how our Father, our Source, our Creator must feel about us.

So these pauses along the way....they're good. But don't stop too long as one must move on. As I keep saying about my journey with Richie....I must move on. If I stay paused I will surely go insane.

Lie down and listen to the crabgrass grow.                                                                        - Marya Mannes   






When I was a kid growing up in England the saying "there are fairies at the bottom of our garden" was well known to young and old alike.  I actually believed it. The blades of grass moving here and there was only the little people running across the garden and flowers budding was a sign of their activity as they got ready for Spring.


Back then it wasn't unusual to see a neighbors yard active with the daily wash hanging on the line and all sorts of odd garments and underwear being displayed for anyone who wanted to see it.  You could tell a neighbor's personality by the way they displayed their lines....
....haphazard display was the person in a hurry.
....adults in the middle with younger folk on the ends was a statement of 'who's in charge'.
....all undies together, shirts and pants plus socks together was one orderly home.
The way the props were slotted into the line to force up the wash into the air to strategically get the wind sailing them in the right direction was another sign. And what about the pegs...oh dear yes, the pegs...cant be unmatched, like one wooden old one next to a new one, no they had to match....such was the art of hanging clothes back then.  Monday was always wash day. Then once dried, taken down and folded came the bed sheets and we must see how high we can get the sails going on them.....
Yes you could sit back as a small child and see the predictability of this ancient art of hanging out ones freshly washed garments for the world to see. Each washer had their statement....even my mother.
She was the haphazard type.  Just get it on the line no matter what and who cares if a towel or two is separating the colors from the whites. Let it hang and try not to forget the prop to keep them off the ground especially the sheets from soiling. Oh and she was the hell with Monday, I wash on Saturday since I work all week and I must plan it before I head on out to the local pub.


So if it wasn't dad taking the last load off the line it went from oldest to youngest, so if sister wasn't around it went to me. There actually is a fine art in folding a sheet while still on the line. There is, I've seen it performed quite often by other neighbors but not in our garden. Pull it down and throw in the basket and ask the closest human you can find to help you fold it.


So how do fairies come into this picture?  Simple actually.


"Mind the flowers when you're in the garden luv"
"Stay away from the crockery garden your dad worked hard on that"
"Don't forget the Night Scented Stock bloom at night and look like weeds during the day so don't be picking them thinking they are weeds"


"But mum if fairies live at the bottom of our garden why don't they take care of all this flower stuff...?


Long pause in the answer coming back......


"Oh, they're too busy playing and dancing all day..."


"Well, who invited them here anyway? And someone needs to tell them life is not all fun and games"


"Don't worry yourself over them. Now off with ya, time to play before we settle in for the  night...."

as I start my morning walk

“Laughter is sunshine, it chases winter from the human face.” 
― Victor Hugo, Les Misérables




I was one of the fortunate souls that had parents who knew what laughter was all about and was born in a city that produced the most comedians .....Liverpool. But to get more in tune with this genre was actually Bootle that received a larger part of Hitler's wrath than the great old city of London did.


I reflect back to my beginnings with a great smile and a belly laugh.....I came just after the war and heard the stories.  Many a hero was your next door neighbor, so said my dad. He called them the unsung heroes.  Mum said they kept the pubs open after closing time with heavy coverings on the windows to hide the light inside...the light from lamps and also the laughter. Mum said it kept them all sane.


The laughter was born from fear, not knowing if tomorrow would come.  I heard those lyrics last night at a local theater here in Winter Haven Florida. The production of Les Miserables sung with local talent bellowed across the stage reaching the last row of seats and it perfumed the air with a mixture of emotions. My mind raced back to my memories of a war that touched the local folk and how they dealt with it.


Born of fear, yes that's a good description I came up with in my musings as I was reflecting back in time.


Laughter.....it is contagious.


Victor Hugo wrote about the sufferings he saw as did Charles Dickens. They took their musings and put it to ink and paper.  I thank the authors past, present and future for sharing their mental writings with us. We all do the mental writings, that chalk board or diary in our minds but we don't all set it to paper or canvas.


I am sharing my musings with you, dear reader.  This is just the beginning of a memorable journey if you so choose to stay and walk with me.  We will pause along the way maybe to pick a flower that reminds us of something we need to share or just sit on a bench and pluck a bubble containing a memory and watching it burst forth producing words of colors falling on a pallet.......