What is Real?

From where I am perched..behind this computer I hear the voices of angels. Each click beneath my fingers, into your blog, impacts my next thought. If I open my mind and listen, the truth is heard from all of those speaking. It's what they say and how it is said that everyone is captured. Sorry... follows the truth that unfolds only to become silent again. This comes from a person with a closet of pain and a voice that wants to carry. If it's the key pad that talks than a step has been taken...never to be hushed again.

This is how I feel when I read your blogs daily. I love to see the silence unfolding, read as the strength is growing and setting someone free. Some are happy and some are mad, but the sad always say, sorry. If it wasn't for those of you who have the strength to speak someone else might always feel alone. I admire "real" people. This time of year isn't easy for all, but the festivities always go on. It is also the time of year that I think more and more about what is "real" to me. Many years ago my heart was captured by the words written within a book.

The Velveteen Rabbit....by Margery Williams

The Skin Horse had lived longer in the nursery than any of the others. He was so old that his brown coat was bald in patches and showed the seams underneath, and most of the hairs in his tail had been pulled out to string bead necklaces. He was wise, for he had seen a long succession of mechanical toys arrive to boast and swagger, and by-and-by break their mainsprings and pass away, and he knew that they were only toys, and would never turn into anything else. For nursery magic is very strange and wonderful, and only those playthings that are old and wise and experienced like the Skin Horse understand all about it.

"What is REAL?" asked the Rabbit one day, when they were lying side by side near the nursery fender, before Nana came to tidy the room. "Does it mean having things that buzz inside you and a stick-out handle?"

"Real isn't how you are made," said the Skin Horse. "It's a thing that happens to you. When a child loves you for a long, long time, not just to play with, but REALLY loves you, then you become Real."

"Does it hurt?" asked the Rabbit.

"Sometimes," said the Skin Horse, for he was always truthful. "When you are Real you don't mind being hurt."

"Does it happen all at once, like being wound up," he asked, "or bit by bit?"

"It doesn't happen all at once," said the Skin Horse. "You become. It takes a long time. That's why it doesn't happen often to people who break easily, or have sharp edges, or who have to be carefully kept. Generally, by the time you are Real, most of your hair has been loved off, and your eyes drop out and you get loose in the joints and very shabby. But these things don't matter at all, because once you are Real you can't be ugly, except to people who don't understand."

I want to talk all of you who read my blog. It's a little funny, a little silly, a little dreamy, a little dumb and a lot of "real".

Now, go have some fun and sign up for my "gift-a-ways...click here and click here. :D