Buttercup Memories

Buttercup Memories

It was the season of daisies, spring was in late bloom, and the warm breath of an anxious summer gave me an early morning hello.  The sky was a gentle shade of springtime blue, and  cotton candy clouds made their way to nowhere—a day I couldn’t resist being lazy.  In search of a bit of inspiration, I grabbed my copy of, Selected Poems by Henry David Thoreau, and walked to the park

Washington Park, and the adjacent zoo, in my hometown of Michigan City, Indiana, is gorgeous this time of year.  A gentle breeze blew across the clear calm of Lake Michigan, past the sculpted sands of a deserted beach, and ruffled my graying hair.  In the distance, a lion welcomed in the day with a mighty roar—as macaws, peacocks, and ring tailed monkeys chimed in, not to be out done by this king of beast.

To my surprise, the park was all but empty except for a young mother who sat on a cool carpet of green rocking a newborn in her arms.  She kept a watchful eye on her other child, whose curly locks of golden hair, and precocious giggle, reminded me of a young Shirley Temple.  Her daughter, who must have been four, was lost in a world of magic—chasing fairies, dancing, and talking to leprechauns—or so I imagined.

I watched this enchanted child dance to the rhythm of the day as flecks of shimmered sunshine pierced the luscious emerald canopy—the golden hues fluttering about her like translucent butterflies.

Twirling barefoot in a sea of daisies, her yellow sundress took on the shape of a flower as she began to sing—accompanied only by a robin’s song.

“Buttercup, Buttercup, I love you.  Buttercup, Buttercup,  do you love me too.  Buttercup, Buttercup, it’s time to wake up.  Buttercup, Buttercup…”

Soothed by the lullaby melody, the scent of lilacs and early morning tulips, I leaned against an ancient oak and turned to my favorite Thoreau poem, Mist, and read.

“Low-anchored cloud,
Newfoundland air,
Fountain-head and source of rivers,
Dew-cloth, dream-drapery,
And napkin spread by fays;
Drifting meadow of the air,
Where bloom the daisied banks and violets,
And in whose fenny labyrinth
The bittern booms and heron wades;
Spirit of lakes and seas and rivers,
Bear only perfumes and the scent
Of healing herbs to just men’s fields!”

The spell cast on me by the day was broken when I heard the mother call, “Buttercup—Buttercup, it’s time to go.”

I looked up from my page into the sparking blue eyes of innocence now standing before me—a bouquet of daisies in hand.

“Hello little one,” I said.  “Is your name Buttercup?”

“That’s what everyone calls me,” she said with a giggle in her voice.  “What’s your name?”

“Everyone calls me Terry.”

“Terry, these are for you.”  And she thrust the bouquet of daises into my hand.

“What are these for?”  I asked a bit perplexed.

“They’re for you silly.”

I let out a laugh.  “No-no-no honey, I mean why are you giving them to me?”

Buttercup smiled a child’s toothless smile and said, “Because you’re here.”

“Thank you very much, Buttercup.”

“You’re most welcome,” she said with the voice of an angel.  “Bye.”

“Bye Buttercup.”

As she ran back toward her mother, I took in the intoxicating aroma of kindness, and a warm tear trickled down my cheek.  It was the first time in my life anyone had ever acknowledged my existence with a gift for no other reason than I was here.

I had come to the park to find a bit of inspiration in a poem, and instead I found it in the heart of a child.

Terry Elkins (whyguy)

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All Day

Wayne Dyer, the Dalai Lama, Buddha, Eckhart Tolle, and many others—all wise men, have taught me many things over the years, but the wisdom that I have found in one small child’s words have taught me the most about the power of living in the moment.

When I was a young father and my now twenty-three year old daughter was  four, I was put in charge of watching her.  I was given explicit instructions to keep an eye on Sara by my wife:  Don’t let Sara eat cookies for breakfast, play with Mom’s makeup, or dress up in Sara’s new Easter dress.

Check, check, check…got it.  “Don’t worry,” I said, thinking, how hard could it be to watch a four-year old.  With a bit of trepidation Mom left us alone.  After mom left,  I laid down for a quick nap, knowing Sara would be fine.  After all, she was playing quietly, so how much mischief could she get into.

After some time, I woke up to the sound of giggling coming from Sara’s room.  I was curious to what she was doing so I lumbered to her room, pulled back the lace curtains of the French doors, and peered through the window.  My heart quickened, my eyes bulged, and panic over took me.  Sara was having a tea party with Ken and Dreamtime Barbie, Teddy the one eyed bear, and Curly Q the half-bald Cabbage Patch Kid that Sara decided would look better with a trim.  She was serving cookies and milk to all partygoers and she had on my wife’s lipstick (both on her and Ken).  She was also wearing her frilly pink Easter dress, with full compliment of stockings, gloves, and black pearl dress shoes.

I panicked and thrusts open the doors—it cracked with the sound of thunder against the wall.  Sara gave a quick jump, smiled, and said with the voice of happiness, “ Hi Daddy, want some milk and cookies?”  She was oblivious to the predicament we were in, but I was not.  I had failed completely at my mission and knew when Mom came home I was a dead man.

I grabbed Sara’s startled hand, and dragged her to the bathroom.  I tossed her onto the edge of the sink, and as I began wiping the overused Ruby Red lipstick from my perplexed child’s face, I noticed rips in her stockings.  They were soaked in a dark crimson, and both precious knees were swollen, scraped, and bruised.

My voice cracked, “What happened?”

She shrugged her shoulders—casually pronouncing “I fell down, no big deal.”

My hands trembled as I began working on her wounds.  My eyes darted around the room, and  my breath quickened as I berated my daughter.  “Your Mom is going to kill me!  Why didn’t you wake me?  Where’s the Band-aids?  Doesn’t that hurt?  Why aren’t you crying?”

Sara stared into my soul with her precious blue indigo child eyes, and softly spoke, “Daddy, I got hurt earlier, why cry now?”

I huffed, “But what about Mom, she’s going to be pissed?”  Sara again shrugged nonchalantly.

“I think we’re both going to get grounded,” I said.

Sara laughed, and that’s when she said the wisest words I have ever heard from a child.  “Daddy, I got hurt earlier and Mommy don’t get home until later, now we have all day to be happy.

A wash of calm overtook me, tears welled up in my eyes, and my spirit became still.  I lifted Sara into my arms, and asked, “how about some more milk and cookies Pumpkin?”

She smiled, wrapped her arms around my neck, and squeezed my waist with her legs, as she whispered in my ear, “I love you Daddy.”

The rest of the day, we were happy.

This incident taught me the power of living fully in the moment, and not to worry about the what happened, or what may happen, the only time we have to be happy is now.  As Eckhart Tolle says, “Nothing ever happened in the past; it happened in the Now. Nothing will ever happen in the future; it will happen in the Now”

These are the words I live by till this day.

Terry A. Elkins (whyguy)

The Child Within

I often seek guidance from my oldest and dearest friend.  We often spend hours together playing, laughing, contemplating the mysteries of the universe, or sometimes, we just sit in silence enjoying each others company.

My friend is still a kid in many way, he sees the world through child like eyes–-the eyes of a dreamer they say.  The difficulties of life have not hardened his child like out look on life.  And, his kind heart allows him to see nothing but the good in this world.  He has no time for worry, no time for regrets, and no time to wallow in his sorrows.  No, he’s too busy for that.  He’s always rushing around exploring, playing, laughing, dreaming, and living life to its fullest.

He truly is a dreamer.

I envy his energy and spirit, and this is why I call upon him now and again to remind me not to take life so serious.  He nudges me with a wink and smile, as he finds ways to bring back the magic that is sometimes lost in my life.  He is the truest of friends, for he can be nothing but.  He is the child within my soul.

Have a wonderful day my friends, may you always find time to spend with your inner child on the playground of life.

Terry (whyguy)

Shall We Dance

Every morning the universe has woken me from my slumber and has asked me to dance.  “Yes,” I would reply, “I love to dance, but only if I can lead.”  The universe gave me what I wished.  We danced every day, but I felt awkward on the floor of life.  We stumbled together, with me complaining about how bad the universe was at this.  It provided no music that I could hear and kept stepping on my toes.  It was as if the universe had never danced before.

Then one night while I lay dreaming, an angel appeared before me.  Speaking with the sweet voice of a summer breeze, the radiant light of love revealed a secret to me.  “God loves you, and will provide all that you ask, if only you let go of your fear and believe.”

The next morning, as I prepared for my daily dance, I remembered the angel’s words; I dropped to my knees, looked into the face of God and cried out.  “I can’t dance like this anymore—will you lead?”

God whispered into my ear, “your wish is my command little one—Shall we dance?”

I wept as God gracefully moved me around the floor of life—it was so beautiful, and as I let go of my fears, I heard the music for the first time—the song, release the magic in you by the group Infinite Possibilities.  We danced and danced, never stumbling, never tiring, and ever so gently moving through the days of my life, picking up my hearts desires along the way.

The universe has become my dance floor with God as my partner.  I now feel peace, joy, and hope again.  I let go of my fears and limiting beliefs, and now dance the waltz of life as it was meant to be—with God in the lead.

May you all hear your song, and dance your dance—and when God whispers in your ear, “Shall We Dance,” let go of your fears and believe.

Terry A. Elkins (whyguy)

Knock At the Door

“When was the last time you had a conversation with the moon. Held hope on a string. Got lost in an enchanted wood.” Click on this link and when you get to Duirwaigh Galley watch the video by clicking the link knock on the door. Trust me, you’re going to love this. Then come back and tell me what you think.

Terry (whyguy)

She Loves Me

I stepped out of the shower, and she wasn’t there. Still dripping wet, I grabbed my robe, and went searching. The house was silent and still—I knew we must be alone. I found her in the kitchen. She had been waiting for me.  I rushed to her, picked her up in my arms, and wiped the slightest smudge of jam from her beautiful face.

She was cold to the touch, but soon, I would remedy that. I thought about doing it right there in the kitchen, but I knew a better place, a  private place, one in which we wouldn’t be disturbed. I carried her gingerly through the house, past the dining room, where we had done it once or twice before;  past the living room, where the sofa was in the way the last time, and I even thought about stopping in the hallway, just for a quickie, but it was in the bedroom where we have had the most fun.

She didn’t speak, she didn’t have to, I could see it in her eye—she wanted this as much as I did. I gave her a gentle kiss, and placed her body, ever so delicate, on the floor. My body shivered in anticipation at what was about to happen. I dropped my robe and mounted her, and I could feel the warmth from my body enter hers. I waited for a moment before I looked at her, and before I knew it—it was over.

As she spoke to me with lust still in her eye I let out a scream of ecstasy and delight. “Yes, yes, yes!” I knew then that things between us would never be the same. I knew  that she loved me. On this day, she proved that love by telling me what I had longed to hear—you are you now 220 lbs.

I love my scale.

Terry Elkins (whyguy)

Update: I’ve now down to 168  lbs, and only 8 lbs from my goal.  She still loves me. And I’m still loving Atkins.

Necessity the Key to Growth

“New organs of being come into existence as the result of necessity. Therefore, O man, increase your necessity, so that you may increase your perception”.  Jallaludini Rumi

What do you think Rumi is saying here?

Terry Elkins (whyguy)

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