 “If you keep saying he is shy, he is going to be shy.” I wasn’t thrilled with this comment coming from a stranger – or anyone for that matter. I was at a neighborhood rummage sale with my adorable young son. I say adorable in the most truthful and unbiased way because he was. His thick dark hair framed his face spotlighting his huge brown eyes. One blink of his long lashes and people were sucked in by his cuteness. Everyone wanted to talk to him. He didn’t want to talk to anyone. He clutched my leg hiding his face in my jeans. It was the same scenario everywhere we went. Three people at the rummage sale tried to talk to him and three times he hid his face. I just repeated, “He is shy.” A fourth woman came up behind me and in a quiet voice said, “If you keep saying he is shy, he is going to be shy.” I spun around almost knocking over my son who was firmly attached to my leg. We met eyes. Her’s with truthful intention, mine filled with disbelief and a bit of anger. As quickly as her eyes jabbed me with the depth of her comment, she disappeared down the driveway and into a car. I didn’t have the chance to defend myself for stating what I thought was the truth- a protective statement to keep strangers away from my child. How dare she tell me what I should or shouldn’t say about my son. The verbal smackdown I received kept me company as I went on with my day. Every time I replayed the interaction and heard the comment it dug deeper and deeper through my heart lodging in my stomach. My anger turned to embarrassment when I realized she was right. Each time I said he was shy it embedded in my son’s mind, teaching him to be shy and reinforcing this trait. I wondered how many times I had said it in front of him. I knew it was many more than the three times at the garage sale that day. I do know that was the last time. I have never forgotten this experience. I am grateful to the woman who gave me this lesson that made such an impact on me and without him knowing it, on my son. I have had similar experiences in my life where a stranger seemed to be at the right place at a time when I needed to be given an important lesson and then vanished as quickly as they arrived. Are they Earth Angles that arrive with special assignments to teach us, guide us and turn us toward the correct path? Maybe they are giving us a swift smackdown, a quick pick-up, or a powerful nudge to wake us up and save us from our own good intentions. I guess you will have to decide the answer to that question for yourself. I know what I believe. I believe angels don’t have to be hiding wings under a trench coat or dropping feathers with every lesson. I believe angels walk with us through our days and touch our lives right here on Earth teaching us and bringing us simple gifts of truth. Many times we don’t notice when it happens, but the lessons sink into our minds. Oh, and that adorable boy with the big brown eyes and thick dark hair, is no longer hiding behind my leg. In fact, he is now a very handsome and very successful man who can often be seen presenting on a stage to over 12 thousand people. I say that in the most truthful, unbiased and proud way because he is. ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ Pennie’s Life Lesson: Pay attention to the lessons you learn from strangers. They may be angels in disguise delivering the most important messages of all. ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ YOUR TURN...
Share your thoughts and experiences relating to this post in a comment below. And please feel free to email me at: PennieHunt@gmail.com. Thank you! ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ All Rights Reserved Copyright © 2013-2022 Pennie Hunt This was written and produced by Pennie Hunt. Feel free to forward and share this post. Please keep the entire message intact, including contact, logo, and copyright information.
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 My brother and I just returned from a trip to see our sister. We experienced snow-packed roads with stop-and-go traffic, missed flights and long security lines – all the things that come with travel. We just moved forward one step at a time to reach our destination. For two days we visited our sister. It wasn’t a visit filled with normal family activities. It was two days of my brother and I talking, while my sister watched us. My sister suffers from Alzheimer's Disease. As we sat with her, I could not help but replay memories in my mind. Memories of our childhood and growing up as the youngest in this line of three. Memories of summer days riding our bikes to the local swimming pool. Family camping trips and vacations to see our grandparents. Memories of sharing a room with her until I was 15 and the day I taped a line down the center of that room to mark the side we should each stay on. As children we were at the bottom of a tall ladder. Climbing above us were our parents, grandparents and great-grandparents. We were excited to climb higher and grow into the life above us. It seemed like a long, long way to the top. Over the years the stability of that ladder weakened for us as one-by-one great grandparents and grandparents passed. As every generation passed, we moved forward one step at a time. One level higher on the ladder. Then my dad passed. Years later when we said goodbye to our mom, I remember thinking it was just the three of us now. How odd it was to realize we were now on the last step --the top level of that very high ladder. We became the stability that held the ladder tall and strong for those coming behind us. As my sister stared at us unable to comprehend our stories or remember who we were, I realized that even our foothold on the ladder is weakening. Seeing my sister in a fragile state is shaking the top of our ladder. There is no guarantee when a shift in the ladder will occur, but it is clear that one of us from the top level may be leaving soon. Our climb to the top happened so quickly. It was just yesterday that I was on solid ground looking up and anxious to climb the ladder. Now, looking down seems scary. I see the faces of those climbing the ladder below and remember the excitement and challenges of the climb. Looking up I think of all the reasons the generations before us left. Disease, accidents and aging have forced us to climb one level at a time to reach this view from the top. What seemed like a forever climb, wasn’t. It happened in a blink. We said goodbye to our sister for what may be the last time. Again, we experienced snow-packed roads with stop-and-go traffic, delayed flights and long security lines – all the things that come with travel. It didn’t feel much different than the climb we have had on this ladder of life. Always climbing through the difficult times and grateful for the easy times – all the things that come with life. We just move forward one step at a time until we reach our destination. Until we reach the top of the ladder. **November is Alzheimer's Awareness Month. I have become deeply aware of the devastation this disease causes to those afflicted and the families that love them. According to Johns Hopkins, there are over 6 million Americans living with Alzheimer’s Disease with 3 million new cases diagnosed each year. There is no cure for this progressive, deadly disease. Unless you or a loved one is touched by Alzheimer’s it is hard to understand the pain of this disease-- I hope you never do. ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ Pennie’s Life Lesson: We are all climbing the ladder of life. Hold on tight - it goes quickly. ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ YOUR TURN...
Share your thoughts and experiences relating to this post in a comment below. And please feel free to email me at: PennieHunt@gmail.com. Thank you! ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ All Rights Reserved Copyright © 2013-2022 Pennie Hunt This was written and produced by Pennie Hunt. Feel free to forward and share this post. Please keep the entire message intact, including contact, logo, and copyright information.  I believe everyone is either a number person or a word person. Which one are you? There isn’t a right or wrong answer. A number person loves spreadsheets filled with numbers, tracking amounts and calculating percentages. When they don’t feel well, they will say things like, “I only feel about 50% today.” They like to give you scales to rate things… on a scale from 1-10 how strong is your pain. They remember the date and time that everything happened. Birthdays, anniversaries, and the day they bought their first car. They know the make and model of every car they ever owned! They can rattle off statistics about every topic they are interested in. Does that sound like you? Not me. I like numbers. I am fascinated with numerology and the connections numbers make to our name, our birth date and events that happen in our life. That may be where my fascination with numbers ends. I do have spreadsheets filled with names. I track my progress in journals filled with words explaining how much better or worse I am doing. Percentages? I don’t go there. When I don’t feel well, I will explain what hurts, how much it hurts and how long it has been hurting. I feel terrible, mediocre or fantastic! No 1-10 in my mind. My thoughts process in feelings and emotions, not percentages or scales. I might not remember the exact date when events happened, but I can tell you what season it was, how the air smelled, if the wind was blowing, how happy everyone was and what I was wearing. My memory clicks through scenes as if there is a movie camera in my mind rewinding and playing the video. I remember seeing my first car for the first time. I danced circles around it and couldn’t wait to slide into the blue seat that smelled the way old vinyl smells. I can tell you how the radio belted out Elton John’s Tiny Dancer and how the windshield wipers sounded when they swooshed from side to side. I do remember what kind of car it was because it became her name – Rambler! Word people name everything! My current car is named Ruby. She followed Liberty, Blaze and so many others. My refrigerator is Kevin. And a few years ago, on a blustery fall day when the leaves were swirling yellow and red in my driveway, Thelma and Louise were taken away to a place where old washers and dryers retire. That is the day Lavern and Shirley came into my life. They sparkle and shine proudly in my laundry room. I love words. I love the way they sound rolling out of my mouth. I love playing with them, rearranging them, and creating stories about life’s progress and setbacks with them. Number people love numbers. They love the way they bounce around in their minds. They love playing with them, rearranging them and creating stories about life’s progress and setbacks with them. Word people and number people aren’t that different. We may speak a different version of the same language, but we are saying the same thing. Sometimes the two types of people collide in disagreements and disconnection. When we realize we are just framing life in a different way communication becomes easier. I may describe my life and progress with colorful words and descriptions. A number person may chart their life and progress with percentages and monetary increases. In the end, we tell the same story. Are you a number person or a word person? ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ Pennie’s Life Lesson: Number people and word people frame life in a different way. ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ YOUR TURN...
Share your thoughts and experiences relating to this post in a comment below. And please feel free to email me at: PennieHunt@gmail.com. Thank you! ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ All Rights Reserved Copyright © 2013-2022 Pennie Hunt This was written and produced by Pennie Hunt. Feel free to forward and share this post. Please keep the entire message intact, including contact, logo, and copyright information.  “You have to catch the crumbs and hide them so that no one sees them, and they don’t destroy the beauty of the design.” For many years I taught cake decorating for the Wilton Company. It was a skill I learned from my grandmother. Throughout high school, I created birthday, anniversary, graduation and wedding cakes in my mom’s kitchen. I ordered so many cake decorating supplies from the Wilton Company that they contacted me to teach for them. I enjoyed teaching the skill of spinning a flower nail around to create a frosting rose and bobbing a frosting-filled bag up and down to create swirling borders. In the first class session, I would explain the process of preparing the cake to decorate. I have a few decorating secrets that I rarely share, but one that I taught that first night was called crumb frosting. This is where you brush off the loose crumbs and then cover the cake with a light coating of frosting to lock in any remaining crumbs. When you add the final layer of frosting the crumbs are secured in the first layer and do not show through or tarnish the cake with unwanted speckles. No one wants to see the crumbs. I would tell my students, “You have to catch the crumbs and hide them so that no one sees them, and they don’t destroy the beauty of the design.” This technique created a smooth canvas for the final layer of flowers, borders and words. It was this top layer of beauty that people noticed without ever realizing there were crumbs hidden underneath. No one wants to see the crumbs, right? Layering is an interesting concept. We layer our makeup on our face in the morning. Foundation, blush, mascara, lipstick… all to conceal our flaws. No one wants to see our flaws, right? When I paint, I begin with what is furthest away. Painting the sky, then mountains, then a lake and trees. Layering until I paint the grass that I could reach out and touch right in front of me. If I make a mistake in the first few layers, they are easily covered by the time I am done with the painting. We don’t want to destroy the beauty of the design with mistakes, right? In life, we layer our feelings. If someone says something unkind to us, it may hurt our feelings, but we can brush off the little crumbs. The little jabs, disappointments and broken promises get locked into the layer like crumb frosting and can’t be seen on the outside. It becomes a problem when it happens over and over again. We can only layer so much. If there are too many crumbs to cover the outside is going to show the speckles and flaws. Sometimes this takes years of layering, but eventually there will be a crack. The years of hiding and covering our feelings will spill out. Just like there is a technique for frosting a cake, putting on makeup and painting, we must pay attention to how we manage our feelings. We must learn how to brush off the small ones and address the big ones. Smoothing them over into hidden layers without expressing them, talking about them or processing them can be a dangerous way of dealing with them. Your layered feelings will build until eventually exploding into health issues, relationship issues or emotional issues. Be aware when you layer your feelings. You don’t have to catch all the crumbs and hide them so that no one sees them. Learn to express feelings in a healthy, kind way. Show the true beautiful design of who you are - feelings, flaws and all. ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ Pennie’s Life Lesson: Don’t hide your feelings- express them in a healthy, kind way. ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ YOUR TURN...
Share your thoughts and experiences relating to this post in a comment below. And please feel free to email me at: PennieHunt@gmail.com. Thank you! ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ All Rights Reserved Copyright © 2013-2022 Pennie Hunt This was written and produced by Pennie Hunt. Feel free to forward and share this post. Please keep the entire message intact, including contact, logo, and copyright information.  “Are you always this positive?” This is the number one question I get asked when people meet me in person. My answer is a very quick, No! I write and speak about happiness, love and seeing the positive side of life. I also write and speak about grief, loss and sadness. We all have a stew of emotions that we carry around. Yes, I do my best to see the good side of everything and I encourage others to do the same, but there are moments when I slip. When I do, my husband will say, “That wasn’t very Pennie-Hunt-dot-com-like” – referring to my website which is packed with my uplifting quotes and writings. Yesterday was one of those days when my action was not very Pennie-Hunt-dot-com-like. This week I finished my 3rd book and sent it off to my publisher. After many months in the mental creation and writing process, I was ecstatic to be handing it over. That ecstasy was fleeting as I quickly moved into the reality of knowing it was not really finished. Now it is a process of back and forth with my editor, proofreader, and layout designer. All these steps rattle a different set of my nerves. My lovely project manager, Dana, keeps these moving pieces flowing. She has been playing middle person between me and the designer for weeks to create the vision I had in my mind for the book cover. Yesterday I opened an email containing what I thought would be the final version, only to find it had not been tweaked correctly according to my last requests. Hurriedly I sent back an email reiterating the last directions and expressing my concerns. When I received her response, it was filled with apologetic comments. I was a bit confused until I reread the email I had sent. It was strong. It sounded grumpy. It was definitely NOT Pennie-Hunt-dot-com-like! I quickly realized why I received the over-apologetic email response. I wanted to crawl under the covers and begin the day again. I wanted to take back the email. All the positivity I promote and encourage others to do was instantly sucked from my body. I had a vision of how my email must have hit her, how it must have ruined her day. I felt like a failure. I quickly sent her an email saying I was sorry about the way my email must have come across to her and blamed it on the inhumaneness of communicating through technology. Then I sent her a second email apologizing again. Past lessons that I have written about came pouring through my head. I began beating myself up with my own comments like- you can’t take back words; words hold power; be kind. And yes, the one that hits me like a dagger… “That wasn’t very Pennie-Hunt-dot-com-like! My mind was in rare form letting the negative self-talk jab me with punch after punch. Then my heart kicked in. It pushed back by reminding me that I am human and that I make mistakes. The punching from my mind and the pushback from my heart continued most of the day. It takes time for the heart to be strong enough to squelch the power of the mind. As with most of my life lessons, this one was a hard one. As much as we all try, none of us are perfect. When we slip, we should apologize and fix what we can. Then see the opportunity to practice patience, understanding, and acceptance of ourselves. Forgive the humanness in ourselves and when you are on the receiving end of someone’s bad day, frustration, confusion, or anger, offer them the same. Today is a new day. I know I will never be perfect, but today I plan to be a little better than the person that I was yesterday. The next time I am asked, “Are you always this positive?” My answer will be a very quick, “No! I try, but I’m not perfect and still have many lessons to learn.” ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ Pennie Life Lesson: Today, don’t try to be perfect, just try to be a little better than the person you were yesterday. ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ YOUR TURN...
Share your thoughts and experiences relating to this post in a comment below. And please feel free to email me at: PennieHunt@gmail.com. Thank you! ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ All Rights Reserved Copyright © 2013-2022 Pennie Hunt This was written and produced by Pennie Hunt. Feel free to forward and share this post. Please keep the entire message intact, including contact, logo, and copyright information.  Are you sad? Many people are. As I write this, I see a gloomy, cloudy, windy day out my office window. The trees are releasing the last of their beautiful fall leaves and the cold of winter is ready to blow in. You may be trying to get a foothold on a normal life again after our years of uncertainty only to be hit daily with more uncertainty in the headlines. You can concentrate on all this negativity. You can add to the list all of your personal problems until you are sad. Very sad. You can mix in some anger. Add a little blame or shame, and soon you are a mess. Here is what can happen… You get so used to being sad that you don’t know it’s sadness - it just feels like you. You get so used to being angry that you don’t know it’s anger - it just feels like you. You get so used to feeling blame and shame that you don’t know it’s blame and shame - it just feels like you. Fill in your blank with any negative emotion you have. You get so used to feeling ____ that you don’t know it’s ____it just feels like you. Think about that. Do you even know what YOU should feel like? You become so used to talking about being sad that it becomes who you are. Be careful how you allow your emotions to take over your life. They can become a habitual personality trait You begin protecting this trait. Don’t touch my sadness, it’s all mine. You begin projecting this trait onto others. You talk about it, you think about it and you live in the bubble of it without letting anyone or anything positive in. It is easy to fall prey to this negativity. If you weren’t sad before you began reading this, by the time you read the first paragraph you were probably thinking about how sad you must be. What if the first paragraph read like this: Are you happy? Many people are. As I write this, I see a glorious fall day out my office window. The trees are releasing the last of their beautiful colorful leaves. It is a lovely sight to watch the leaves flutter down, swinging back and forth in the wind until they softly settle on the ground. Soon sparkling snow will cover the leaves with a blanket of white. The coziness of winter will quickly be here and the headlines will be filled with tips on holiday baking and shopping ideas. Do you see the difference? Do you FEEL the difference? I was looking out the same window. I just saw and felt it differently. My emotions were different. Monitor how happy emotions can easily take over your life. They can become a habitual personality traits. Protect your happiness and don’t allow others to disrupt it. Begin projecting positive emotions onto others. Nurture and share love, joy and happiness. Here is what can happen… You get so used to being joyful that you don’t know it’s joy - it just feels like you. You get so used to being happy that you don’t know it’s happiness - it just feels like you. You get so used to feeling love that you don’t know it’s love - it just feels like you. You control how you see things, how you describe things, and how you react and respond to life situations. Look out your window right now. I hope you see the beauty of a glorious fall day. ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ Pennie’s Life Lesson: Be the one who gets so used to feeling joy and happiness that you don’t know it’s joy and happiness— it just feels like you. ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ YOUR TURN...
Share your thoughts and experiences relating to this post in a comment below. And please feel free to email me at: PennieHunt@gmail.com. Thank you! ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ All Rights Reserved Copyright © 2013-2022 Pennie Hunt This was written and produced by Pennie Hunt. Feel free to forward and share this post. Please keep the entire message intact, including contact, logo, and copyright information.  We all wait. We wait in line and we wait for people. We wait for love, for marriage and for babies. We wait for holidays and happiness. Waiting is part of life. Most of us don’t do it well. We do it impatiently. We are impatient when someone doesn’t respond to a phone call. We get frustrated in the drive-through line waiting for our coffee. We become angry when the doctor keeps us waiting for our appointment. We think our perfect love will never show up. We think 9 months is a painfully long time to be pregnant and wait for our baby. We don’t wait well. This impatience adds stress to our bodies and is detrimental to our physical and mental health. If impatience leads to frustration, anger, depression, and negative behaviors, then it is logical that patience would curtail stress and create a sense of calmness. So why wouldn’t we practice patience? Maybe we need to relearn patience. Remember as a child when you couldn’t wait until your birthday? You planned the party, you created a guest list and you picked a theme. You marked off the calendar days. You looked forward to it, you anticipated and you waited. Remember as a child when you couldn’t wait for Christmas morning? You made a list, you sent Santa a letter, you watched Charlie Brown search for a tree. You delighted in rituals and traditions. You looked forward to it, you anticipated and you waited. Have we forgotten how to wait? Have we forgotten how to enjoy the process? Let’s look at being in the waiting room in a new way. When you are in the drive-through waiting for your morning latte, visualize the person brewing the coffee, steaming the milk, and adding the whipped cream. Feel the ritual and appreciate the time and care that goes into your morning treat. Be grateful for it. If you have to wait a little longer for your appointment, think about who is being seen by the physician before you. Maybe they are seriously ill. Maybe they needed a few extra minutes for tests. We really don’t know what they are going through. Give them the kindness of waiting with patience while they take a little longer. If you are waiting for Prince Charming to ride up on a white stallion or Cinderella to fit into a slipper, think of the waiting time as a time to work on yourself. Learn to love yourself. Improve yourself and practice patience with yourself while you wait for love to enter your life. When you are expecting a baby concentrate on the miracle that you have been given. In 9 very short months, an entire human is created. That is miraculous! Enjoy every moment and baby movement during the waiting time. Enjoy the process. If you have ever sat next to a loved one laying in a Hospice bed you understand the most difficult time of waiting. Waiting to say the final goodbye is the most painful waiting room you will sit in. It is also the biggest honor you will experience. It is the most extreme lesson in learning to be patient and grateful for the entire process of life. Enjoy the lattés, enjoy the birthdays, and enjoy the rituals that lead to holidays. Enjoy the pauses of waiting in between every event. Enjoy the process of living your entire life. Look forward to it, anticipate it, be grateful and patient as you wait. ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ Pennie’s Life Lesson: Notice how you wait. Be patient with yourself and others. Enjoy the process. ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ YOUR TURN...
Share your thoughts and experiences relating to this post in a comment below. And please feel free to email me at: PennieHunt@gmail.com. Thank you! ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ All Rights Reserved Copyright © 2013-2022 Pennie Hunt This was written and produced by Pennie Hunt. Feel free to forward and share this post. Please keep the entire message intact, including contact, logo, and copyright information.  Last week I had a birthday. As with every year, birthdays create a time of reflection. Walking the memory path of my life the big events jump out to me. Births and deaths, weddings and divorces, trips and adventures. Large memories of happy and sad times are sprinkled throughout the years. Then I realized most of life is made up of ordinary moments. Life is one ordinary moment after another. These moments layer and build hours, days, weeks, months, years and eventually creates a life. Most of these moments we don’t even notice. We let them pass along with little fanfare. It is only as we look back on our lives that we realize that it was an ordinary moment that became an extraordinary tipping point that changed our lives in big ways. It is the small, ordinary moments that lead to the big events. We just need to look back and connect the dots. The chance meeting of a person at the post office who became your spouse. The conversation you overhear about a job opening that becomes the beginning of your career. The serendipitous impulse to bring a puppy home who becomes your soul dog and best friend. These magical, extraordinary moments are disguised as ordinary and hidden in the cracks and crevices of our lives. Could they be divinely placed for us to experience at just the perfect time? Maybe. My birthday life review turned to mentally exploring how the small, ordinary moments had strategically left the breadcrumbs for me to follow. Picking up one after another until I was led to an amazing event that changed everything. The moves I have made to new locations and the career changes were all a part of the breadcrumb gathering. Last week I had a birthday. I won’t tell you how many candles were on my cake, but it was enough to have given me the advantage of experiencing a lot of change, setbacks, and step-ups. It was enough to have given me time to learn a lot of lessons and gain a little wisdom. What I know now that I didn’t know when I blew out 30 candles is that I didn’t get to this place in my life alone. Yes, I have an education that I am proud to claim, and I have made some hard life decisions on my own, but the breadcrumbs were there for me to follow. At times I had a long-held nagging in the darkness of my stomach telling me what I should be doing. Looking back, I realize the nagging was telling me that I was stepping over the breadcrumbs. Then suddenly an opportunity would be placed right in front of me as if to say, well, if you are not going to do this on your own, then here it is for you to trip into. This is how ordinary moments work and this is how they are so easily missed. What if you procrastinated going to the post office that day? What if you blew off the conversation you overheard and never applied for the job? What if you fought the impulse to bring home that puppy and never experienced the love of your best buddy? Sometimes the ordinary moments are hard, painful and force change. Looking back, I realize even those were the breadcrumbs I begrudgingly followed that led me to a tipping event. From the view I have now from this age, I realize how seemingly ordinary moments were the catalysts for the biggest events in my life. Could they have been divinely placed for me to experience at just the perfect time? Yes, I believe so. Last week I had a birthday. I am not excited about the number of candles, but I am excited about discovering how connecting the dots in my life brought me to where I am today. Bring on another year of ordinary moments. I’ll be looking for the breadcrumbs. ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ Pennie’s Life Lesson: Pay attention to the magic hidden in ordinary moments. ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~  The rest of the photo story.... ...yes, the dog became his best friend. YOUR TURN...
Share your thoughts and experiences relating to this post in a comment below. And please feel free to email me at: PennieHunt@gmail.com. Thank you! ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ All Rights Reserved Copyright © 2013-2022 Pennie Hunt This was written and produced by Pennie Hunt. Feel free to forward and share this post. Please keep the entire message intact, including contact, logo, and copyright information.  Do you have a balanced life? Think of your life like a pie chart. Divide it into equal sections. Have as many sections as you want and label them any way you like. Some examples are- Family, Relationships, Career, Education, Spiritual/Religious, Health, Fun, etc. If you have a perfect life, you have a perfect pie chart. Each section is a perfect color and compliments the section next to it. Every slice of your life is getting an equal percentage of attention and giving an equal percentage of benefit and value back to you. Every piece of your life has meaning. You are proud. It makes you happy to look at this fantasy. Let’s get real. No one has a perfect pie or a perfect life. Most of the time one section is receiving more attention from you while others are lacking. Your career may be flourishing, but your relationship is struggling. You may be pursuing more education and allowing your health to be neglected. Maybe you are an adrenaline seeker chasing fun while letting the rest of your pie take care of itself. Your chart may be trying to spin with the unevenness of a flat tire. A tragedy may be thrown into your life which completely throws your nice round pie into something that resembles a Picasso painting. When there is hurt, disappointment, failure, disaster, or heartbreak in life we often put 100% control and meaning to the tragedy or problem. It is all we can think about. Nothing else matters. Our life is 100% taken over by one struggle. We want to pull the covers over our heads and hide from the rest of our world. We can’t control the problem so we shut down the whole pie. We freeze. When we let circumstances that are out of our control take over our lives, we allow the things we can control to fall apart. Let me repeat that slowly… When we let circumstances that are out of our control take over our lives, we allow the things we can control to fall apart. This is the time to move your mind and body. Give meaning to other parts of your life. If you experience a relationship breakup or the loss of a job, put movement and meaning to the other things in your life. Point your attention toward your health, your job, your family or your hobby. Push movement and meaning to the other parts of your circle that you can control. If you are stuck and it feels overwhelming, take it one at a time. Take the time you spent on the relationship or job and pour it into another area. You will never forget what happened, but you can carry it with you in a healthy way while you build and repair the other meaningful areas of your life. The sections of your life will always fluctuate. Life isn’t perfect and we as humans are not flawless. The moments of a perfectly proportioned pie are rare. The goal is to pay attention to all areas of your life before a devastating event occurs. The stronger you feel in your pie of life the more strength you will have to lean into other areas of support to help you through the difficult times. Keep the sections of your pie as fulfilled and balanced as possible. ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ Pennie’s Life Lesson: Give movement and meaning to every part of your life. ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ YOUR TURN...
Share your thoughts and experiences relating to this post in a comment below. And please feel free to email me at: PennieHunt@gmail.com. Thank you! ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ All Rights Reserved Copyright © 2013-2022 Pennie Hunt This was written and produced by Pennie Hunt. Feel free to forward and share this post. Please keep the entire message intact, including contact, logo, and copyright information.  My parents were giddy. They couldn’t wait until breakfast was over. My mom opened a small plastic black jar, carefully measured a spoonful of power and watched it trickle into a glass. Smiling, she added cool water and stirred until it was dissolved. She handed the glass to my Dad and he slowly sipped down the precious mixture. I watched this entire ritual. The fascination of how involved my parents were in this process left me a speechless observer. When the glass was empty, I asked what the drink was. My Dad was in the final stages of a terminal illness. Idiopathic Pulmonary Fibrosis. He spent his time sitting in a sheep-skin-lined recliner and tethered to oxygen tubes. For several months I visited as often as I could in an effort to help my mom care for him and soak up as much time with my Dad as possible. I knew the routine. I knew how to help him to the bathroom, how to do sponge baths, how to check his oxygen levels, how to give him medication and how to make his oatmeal for breakfast. This black jar of powder was new. They were more than eager to tell me about it. A man had come to their retirement community with a van full of black jars. Over free coffee and pie he presented to a group in the community hall. He talked about the power of the powder in the jar. The vitamins, the minerals and the magic it held. Since my parents were confined at home to stay close to the oxygen, they were unable to attend, so the kind man came to their home and gave them a personal demonstration. They happily bought several jars at the discounted rate of $125 each. They believed it was going to bring strength and health back to my Dad. They were convinced it was the answer to their prayers. Being skeptical, I picked up the jar to read the ingredients. The first ingredient was sugar. I dipped my finger into the jar and licked off the powder. It tasted like pure sugar. I pointed this out to my mom and reminded her that giving Dad a glass full of sugar water twice a day was not good for his diabetes. That evening the Hospice Doctor stopped by as he often did on his way home from work. He chatted with my parents, took my Dad’s vitals, adjusted the oxygen and headed out the door. I quickly grabbed the black jar and followed him to his car. I explained the situation and handed the jar to him for an expert opinion. As he read the label I blubbered nonstop about the amount of sugar and could this possibly be good for my Dad. There didn’t seem to be anything in the jar that could be beneficial, and I was sure that it was pure sugar. I was certain it was a sham. A pyramid scheme. A modern-day version of a snake oil salesman. The doctor calmly listened and when I stopped, he said, “I think you are correct. I believe there is only one ingredient in this jar.” I leaned in feeling very smug that I was right. He continued, “The only ingredient in this jar that will help your Dad is Hope. We have passed the point of worrying about a little sugar. If this powder gives him hope that he will be here tomorrow, hope that he may feel better, and hope that it might be a cure, then it is worth every cent they paid for it.” He put the jar back in my hand, gave me a smile, hugged me and left. I stood in the driveway holding the jar that had suddenly transformed from a jar of sugar into a precious jar of powerful medicine. The salesman had told my parents the truth. The jar did hold magic. In that moment I realized that my Dad would be leaving soon and in my hand was the only thing he needed. A black plastic jar that held Hope. ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ Pennie’s Life Lesson: We all need hope to lift our spirits and lighten our hearts. How it is delivered to us does not matter. ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ YOUR TURN...
Share your thoughts and experiences relating to this post in a comment below. And please feel free to email me at: PennieHunt@gmail.com. Thank you! ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ All Rights Reserved Copyright © 2013-2022 Pennie Hunt This was written and produced by Pennie Hunt. Feel free to forward and share this post. Please keep the entire message intact, including contact, logo, and copyright information.  We have all been taught to critique, compare, and judge each other and ourselves. When we have a baby, they immediately experience being weighed and measured. Every checkup is a comparison of where the child is landing on the percentile chart of expected growth. School is based on grades and the curve of classroom and grade expectations of learning. Marketing creates an environment where we judge ourselves against the models comparing body size and shape. We critique our wardrobe and style. Are we cool? Are we hip? Are we up to date? At times it becomes difficult to like ourselves, our environment or our lifestyle. Our inner voice is always telling us we need to change. To grow. To be better. To keep up! What if we turned that around? What if we had been taught to admire, acknowledge, and accept ourselves and each other? After all, if you don’t like yourself, how can you expect anyone else to? When we stand in front of a mirror we naturally zoom in on our flaws. We look at ourselves and see what we don’t like. We are harsher on ourselves than we are on anyone else. I hate the circles under my eyes and the wrinkles that are appearing. I’d like to be taller and thinner. Try this… stand in front of a mirror and look for what is good about you. What do you love about YOU? At first, we see the physical. I love my green eyes and auburn hair. My hands remind me of my grandmother. My smile makes me happy. The longer you stare at yourself the deeper you will look and the more you will see. I am blessed to be alive. I am blessed with a strong and capable body. I am blessed with a caring heart. Continue to look deeply saying out loud what is good about you, what you are blessed with, and what you appreciate and admire about yourself, your environment and your lifestyle. I am blessed to have an amazing family. I am blessed to love and be loved. I am blessed to have a home to live in and a car for transportation. I am blessed to have clothes to wear and food to eat. This is an exercise that will feel uncomfortable. You may need to repeat it until it becomes natural. When you feel down or insecure repeat it. When you feel sorry for yourself, ask the mirror what is good about you, your life and the situation you are in. It is hard to feel down when your list of blessings keeps adding up. You will create a foundation of love and appreciation for yourself that cannot be shaken by the opinion and critiquing of your inner voice or others. You will be confident in yourself, your environment, and your lifestyle. You can still grow and be better, but that desire will no longer be based on fear, the need to be cool, fit in or keep up. It will come from a place of wanting to be the best version of you. The you that already has so many qualities to love and admire. ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ Pennie's Life Lesson: “When you feel sorry for yourself, ask what is good about you, your life and the situation you are in. It is hard to feel down when your list of blessings keeps adding up.” ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ YOUR TURN...
Share your thoughts and experiences relating to this post in a comment below. And please feel free to email me at: PennieHunt@gmail.com. Thank you! ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ All Rights Reserved Copyright © 2013-2022 Pennie Hunt This was written and produced by Pennie Hunt. Feel free to forward and share this post. Please keep the entire message intact, including contact, logo, and copyright information.  Have you ever noticed how we all use taglines? I have a few taglines, like “Love Your Life - No Matter What,” and “You Are Good Enough!” I use these when I write and speak as memory markers to push my point into your mind. These are intentional and purposeful. You have taglines and may not even realize it. These are unconscious taglines. My mom would begin many of her conversations with, “Let me tell you something,” and then proceed to tell her story. It was one of her unconscious taglines. She unconsciously was gaining our attention by declaring she was getting ready to say something important. How often have you heard someone end a thought with, “Do you know what I mean,” or someone repeatedly use, “seriously though” to begin speaking? There is a new one I am hearing people use lately. They weave the tagline, “Do you feel me,” into what they are saying. In a short conversation they might reiterate this several times. I began thinking about how often we use unconscious taglines and how we choose the ones we use. Is our mind overriding our thought process and telling our mouths to speak the truth about what we need? Think about those phrases- Let me tell you something, Do you know what I mean, Seriously though, and Do you feel me? They are all asking the listener to understand how we think and feel. They are asking the listener to take our thoughts and feelings seriously. They are a cry to be heard. Listen carefully to others when they talk. It won’t take long to pick up their taglines. You will catch the word or phrases they consistently repeat. Listen to yourself talk, or better yet, ask a family member or friend if they hear you say something over and over. They will probably immediately tell you what your tagline is. It was pointed out to me that I say, “Isn’t that interesting.” I am a naturally curious person and I find life in general extremely interesting, so this is a natural unconscious tagline for me. It began as an unconscious tagline and has become an intentional habit. It is possible that my unconscious mind was pushing those words out of my mouth to teach me how to observe and not judge. Instead of giving a biased opinion or becoming angry about a situation, it is easier to say, “Isn’t that interesting.” This is a reminder to me to take time, observe and think it over before commenting further. Is your unconscious tagline positive or negative? Is your unconscious mind trying to teach you a lesson? Is it crying out for a change or for help? One thing I believe about people (including myself), is that we all want to be seen, heard, understood and loved. At times it takes our unconscious mind to push these taglines out of our mouths in order to repeat something we feel. Our unconscious mind is teaching us a lesson in communication. A lesson in listening. A lesson in understanding. A lesson in feelings. A lesson in taking words seriously. Do you feel me? ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ Pennie’s Life Lesson: Listen to the words that come out of your own mouth. You may be unconsciously speaking words that are a lesson you need to learn. ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ YOUR TURN...
Share your thoughts and experiences relating to this post in a comment below. And please feel free to email me at: PennieHunt@gmail.com. Thank you! ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ All Rights Reserved Copyright © 2013-2022 Pennie Hunt This was written and produced by Pennie Hunt. Feel free to forward and share this post. Please keep the entire message intact, including contact, logo, and copyright information.  Fifteen years ago this week I lost my son. I never use that word, lost. I hate it. I have always said he passed as if passing into a new life on the other side, passing into heaven, or passing through the white light explained where he went. The term ‘lost’ made me feel like I would forever be searching for him. That there would be a chance he would return, rejoin my life and tell stories of his adventures. When someone is lost there is always the hope that they will be found. Death doesn’t work that way. Grieving a child is an endless process. A roller coaster of heart-stopping drops and endless climbing. We climb to be strong enough to walk through life with the outward look of normality while covering the permanent inner change of our DNA. And we are changed. Every tiny molecule of our DNA is changed. I remember a conversation with my older son after the funeral when he said, “Mom, what will it be like when he has been gone 10 years? What if we forget him?” My response was, “Oh honey, 10 years is a long time away. And we will never forget him!” Well, that marker came and went and here we are at 15 years. Comments like, “getting over it,” “being done,” or “forgetting” do not relate to my grief. If that were true, wouldn’t 15 years be long enough? Fifteen years ago this week my son passed, but he isn’t lost. He sits with me when I write and stands with me when I speak. He giggles through the twinkle in his daughter’s eyes and belly laughs with us when we share stories of him. I can feel his baby hand wrap around my finger as I rocked him and hear his cries in the night. He comes back to me when I drive his truck and he sings along when Bob Dylan is played on the radio. He would be 37 now, but he is not. My memories flash from his movements in my belly as I carried him to seeing him the last time when he was 22. Forever 22 as people say when talking about a loved one who has passed. I remember my 22-year-old son with clarity as if he were sitting in front of me as I type this. His beard, his smile, his crooked baseball cap and his laugh. I remember how it felt to be hugged by him while the bristles of his beard brushed against my face. For 15 years I have searched these memories. I have closed my eyes as I held his guitar to hear him sing as he played it. I have opened plastic bins to unfold and refold his favorite clothes, holding them tightly to my face in hopes of smelling a faint scent of him. I have driven his truck to feel his hands on mine as together we hold the steering wheel. These memories don’t wear out and are never used up. Fifteen years ago this week my son passed. Fifteen years is a long time, but not long enough to get over it, be done with grief or forget him. The reality is that I loved him from his first movements in my belly and I will grieve for him until the day I pass into a new life, into heaven or walk into the white light to join him. When I do, I am sure he will say, “Mom, I never left you and now your grieving ends. It has been long enough.” ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ Pennie’s Life Lesson: When your loved one dies, they are never lost. They are always with you. ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~  Jameson Tanner (J.T.) 1985-2007 YOUR TURN...
Share your thoughts and experiences relating to this post in a comment below. And please feel free to email me at: PennieHunt@gmail.com. Thank you! ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ All Rights Reserved Copyright © 2013-2022 Pennie Hunt This was written and produced by Pennie Hunt. Feel free to forward and share this post. Please keep the entire message intact, including contact, logo, and copyright information.  Welcome to 7th grade. How’s it going for you so far? We are all students in this journey we call Life. The entire Universe is our university – there is no accident in the similarity of words there. I believe our time here on earth as humans is our 7th-grade level in the University of the Universe. We have passed the grades before this and have many yet to come. We are all here at this level to learn, to teach and to love. Do you remember your 7th grade year in junior high school? Some of us had great experiences and were the rock stars, the athletic jocks, the popular ones, or the studious brilliant ones. Some of us suffered through and were the unpopular ones, those that struggled, failed, flunked, skipped classes or dropped out. This 7th grade level of our learning through the University of the Universe is no different. We have the shining stars of music, sports, popularity and intelligence. We have the strugglers who fall victim, slip behind and never seem to get ahead or catch a break. And guess what? I believe we are all in the space we are supposed to be in to learn what we are meant to learn and to teach what we are meant to teach. We have a variety of class topics here in this version of 7th grade. If you are a star in this life you shine and share your voice and experiences with others and are in the class of teaching. If you are struggling, the course you are enrolled in is one to learn humility, patience and empathy for others. The amazing news is, that there can be semesters in this 7th grade. If you begin your time struggling, you may learn your lessons and move into the next semester’s course of being a star. Conversely, if you are a star and become arrogant, ungrateful or just need to learn other lessons, the University of the Universe has the power to enroll you into a semester of struggling, to teach you humility, patience and empathy. Our task as students in this level of our life education is to understand and believe that no matter what semester we are in, class we are taking or curriculum we are guided by, we are here for the lessons our soul requires. Our report cards will grade us on our ability to learn the lessons to our highest capacity. Our assignment is to teach what we learn to others. And our most important homework is to be grateful for the experiences, the teachers and the lessons – the joyous ones and the painful ones – and seek and share joy and love in the process. Most of us would like to be granted a do-over for our 7th grade year of junior high. If it was fabulous, we would like to relive the glory. If it was painful, we would like to do it right the second time. Well, you’re here now and your entire life is the 7th grade of our University of The Universe. Enjoy it, live it and dance in it to your happiest level! Welcome to 7th grade! How’s it going for you so far? ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ Pennie's Life Lesson: In the school of life, be grateful for the experiences, the teachers and the lessons – the joyous ones and the painful ones. Seek and share joy and love in the process. ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ YOUR TURN...
Share your thoughts and experiences relating to this post in a comment below. And please feel free to email me at: PennieHunt@gmail.com. Thank you! ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ All Rights Reserved Copyright © 2013-2022 Pennie Hunt This was written and produced by Pennie Hunt. Feel free to forward and share this post. Please keep the entire message intact, including contact, logo, and copyright information.  I sat in a room filled with over 900 people. We all had a sad story. The same story. We had all lost a child. The common thread was wrapped around each of our hearts tightly and safely never to be cut. The other end of the thread curled, waved and stretched into a web of interaction that connected everyone in the room. We all understood. We all shared a piece of the web. We all shared a piece of the pain. Some parents lost their only child. Some carried the loss of more than one. Over 900 stories of pain sat in a room where we gathered to share. Together our love and pain created an energy that was at moments thick and heavy and at times light and freeing. The emotions were made bearable by the powerfully strong connectivity in the room. The stories varied in versions, time frames and circumstances, but the same sad story connected all of us. In a recent conversation, someone mentioned to me that there seems to be so many sad stories right now and that everyone you talk to has one. I believe that is true. I believe that the more birthdays we are lucky enough to enjoy and the more candles we blow out, the more sad stories we will have. The longer we live we will hear more and more sad stories from others. Is it possible that as we age the stories become sadder or is it the accumulation of stories that becomes heavier with every layered story and every year that passes? Over the years I have had my struggles. I have watched my loved ones and my friends struggle. I have said goodbye to people I love. I personally know the story of divorce, job loss, accidents and illness. I have laid battered, bruised and broken in a puddle of helpless hopelessness. I have suffered. We have all suffered. Could it be that there is a sensibility to this? I believe so. We will all be wounded. The wound may be sharp and quick, but deep. The wound may be a slow, dragging pain that leaves a scar in a wide jagged way. No amount of ointment, stitches or bandages will heal the puncture. Wounds are meant to break an opening so a lesson, a message or a meaning can reach our hearts. Wounds are the marks of living. Sad stories give us a way to share our wounds. I believe that it takes the darkest of times to open us up to learning the most. To live this life we must endure and understand the difficult times. The dark times. The sad times. We must own our sad stories. This is what connects us as humans. We can enjoy the beautiful days because we have felt suffering. We can enjoy health because we have felt illness. We appreciate success because we have struggled. We welcome joy because we have felt despair. Emotions are made bearable by the powerfully strong connectivity in the network of our family, friends, coworkers and neighbors. We all have threads wrapped tightly and safely around our hearts while the other end of the thread reaches into the web we all share. The longer we live the more sad stories we will hear, have and hold. The stories will vary in versions, time frames and circumstances, but sad stories connect all of us. ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ Pennie’s Life Lesson: The longer we live the more sad stories we will have. The darkest of times open us up to learning the most. ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ YOUR TURN...
Share your thoughts and experiences relating to this post in a comment below. And please feel free to email me at: PennieHunt@gmail.com. Thank you! ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ All Rights Reserved Copyright © 2013-2022 Pennie Hunt This was written and produced by Pennie Hunt. Feel free to forward and share this post. Please keep the entire message intact, including contact, logo, and copyright information.  Settling into seat 8F, I pulled my jacket off and tucked it into my carry-on bag. I would not be needing that in Phoenix. I looked forward to the sunshine and warmth ahead. In went the jacket. Out came my reading glasses, IPad, magazine and headphones. Headphones! Where are my headphones? I always travel with them. They are the noise canceling kind that block the roar of the plane engines, the voices of the passengers visiting, the cries of babies in the back, and the intercom messages from the cockpit. I block these so that I can enjoy the time to read, sleep or meditate in the headphone secluded space of rain falling, ocean waves, or the tweeting of birds; whichever seems to be my pleasure of the moment. With a sigh, I felt the aggression of the engines lift the plane into the sky as 9F, began to explain to 9E, in his best not-so-quiet voice, why he sold his home in New Jersey and moved to Phoenix. I realized that for this hour and forty-five-minute flight my headphones were happily next to my meditation chair at home. Hummppfff! After reading an article or two in a magazine I laid it to the side, closed my eyes and began breathing. With the deep in and out rhythm my body sensed this as the call to meditate. To enjoy calm. To go within to the space of quiet where the outer world drops away. Where the deepest thoughts of my soul mix with the messages from the energy both in and out of my body. I guard this time of meditation as a mother guards her child. This is more than just a happy place. This is my sacred time. My daily ritual of flowing into calm serenity to a place which is more than one foot here and one foot there, but more like all there. All-in, as they say in Poker, to an out-of-this-body and fully in-peace space. The engine’s roar became a soothing hum that muffled the voice of 9F. The ping of the pilot's bell seemed to whisper the message of safety that floated by my thoughts of awareness without stopping to take residency in my space of peace. I was there! Not here, not asleep… but there. Almost an hour passed when my breathing returned to the shallow breath of normality. My eyes fluttered open as my senses returned to the awareness of my surroundings. The engines below my seat continued to spin as the mechanical dropping of the landing gear engaged. "And in Phoenix the homes were a STEAL when I bought it, so from what I cleared on my Jersey home, I paid cash for the new one." Seat 9F had not stopped the elaboration of his happy relocation to Phoenix. I realized that I had successfully enjoyed the flight. I enjoyed a time of meditation and for a brief period blocked the outside forces of noise, chaos and distractions. I smiled at the reminder that calm serenity can be accomplished any place. Any time. The noise of the outside doesn't have to detract from this. The outer world we cannot control. It is the quiet within that we search for. It is the quiet within we can find... even without headphones. ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ Pennie's Life Lesson: Searching for tranquility does not require a vacuum of silence. Real peace is found within - even during the distraction of life. ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ YOUR TURN...
Share your thoughts and experiences relating to this post in a comment below. And please feel free to email me at: PennieHunt@gmail.com. Thank you! ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ All Rights Reserved Copyright © 2013-2022 Pennie Hunt This was written and produced by Pennie Hunt. Feel free to forward and share this post. Please keep the entire message intact, including contact, logo, and copyright information.  Have you ever felt a knocking on your heart? A feeling like you know you should reach out to someone. You know you should help. You know should make eye contact, say something, touch their arm or give them a hug. Your heart is telling you to do it, but you don’t. You miss a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity that you can never get back. These opportunities happen all the time to all of us. It only takes a second to miss them. Her nail polish was cheerful turquoise. It matched the bright, happy color of her headband, however, everything between the nail polish and headband spoke of sadness. Her teenage shoulders were bent from weakness as if they had carried years of stress. Her blue eyes rarely connected with mine as she took my order and prepared my sandwich. It was a quick lunch stop for me as I was driving home from a speaking event. In and out. That is what I wanted. It was late in the afternoon and only hunger could interrupt my determination to get home. A fast sandwich and then back on the road. I paid her, thanked her and hustled away with my lunch. The whole time her despair was knocking on my heart’s door saying, “Help, Help, let me in!” I ran through the rain to the safety of my car and began the drive again. With every bite I took and every mile I drove, I thought of her. The knocking was still there. The heaviness of her sadness. The guilt grew with every swish of my windshield wipers. Guilt for keeping the words I wanted to say to her inside… beating them down deep into my throat because I didn’t want to take the time. My mind was going faster than the speed limit with thoughts of … Why didn’t I? Why didn’t I talk to her? Why didn’t I ask about her day, her family, her life? The shop was slow, I could have taken the time to talk to her, to help her, if only by showing I cared. Why didn’t I? How many times have I done this - missed an opportunity to help a stranger, or even someone close to me? The heart knocks happen in small ways. A word. A look. A feeling. They are easy to miss and easy to ignore. And yet, it is so easy to take a moment to smile, to ask, to give words of encouragement or a hug. It’s so easy to let someone know you care. Life lessons are hard to learn. Especially when you miss the opportunity and there isn’t a “do-over.” This is one I won’t forget. Her turquoise sadness I won’t forget. Next time I feel that knocking on my heart from someone in need, I will take the time. Pennie’s Life Lesson: “Never miss a chance to care, help and show kindness. Never miss a chance to love.” YOUR TURN...
Share your thoughts and experiences relating to this post in a comment below. And please feel free to email me at: PennieHunt@gmail.com. Thank you! ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ All Rights Reserved Copyright © 2013-2022 Pennie Hunt This was written and produced by Pennie Hunt. Feel free to forward and share this post. Please keep the entire message intact, including contact, logo, and copyright information.  We were in the backyard and the lush green tempted my feet. I said, “Riley, let's take our shoes off and walk in this grass.” He immediately joined my idea. “You know, Riley, this is grounding our bodies.” He looked at me a little confused. I went on to explain. “The earth has energy in it,” I said. He shook his head in agreement. I further elaborated that when we stand barefoot on the ground that energy creates a calm, grounded feeling and washes away our negativity and stress. We ground or electrically connect with the earth and it has a positive effect on our body. Now he looked at me with a bit of uncertainty and asked, “Is that a Grandma Fact or a proven fact?” I was surprised to hear that my life wisdom had been deemed, “Grandma Facts” as if there was a private meaning to it that no one had shared with me. “Wait a minute,” I said, “You say that like Grandma Facts aren’t real.” “Well, no, Grandma Facts are more spiritual,” he said as he circled his arms around in the air. “Proven facts are proven by scientists.” Our conversation went on as we stretched our toes and massaged our feet in the grass. I continued persuading my 10-year-old grandson telling him if he needed convincing, I could come up with many articles about the concept of grounding. He grinned and said he did believe me. I was not sure. I was smiling as I drove home loving the idea of how my teachings were hitting him in a spiritual way but I was still a bit worried that my thoughts were not taken as seriously as a scientist’s thoughts. The next morning I woke up to a thick fog that circled my home and hid everything that wasn’t within 20 feet of my house. I connected with Riley through a video call. When he said he had the same fog at his house I told him to go outside and stand in it. I asked him what he could see. He responded with, “nothing much.” I asked if he could see the house next door. I asked if he could see the sky. I asked if he could see the street. “No. No. No.” I explained to him that there are times when what you are looking for may be there, but you can't see it through the fog of your uncertainty, worries and fear. That doesn’t mean it isn’t there or isn’t true. Sometimes you may just need to wait for the fog to clear to see it. In the meantime, you need to trust and believe it is there. Trust and believe that it is true. “Riley,” I said, “this is how you can look at Grandma Facts. I may not wear a white lab coat and be a scientist, but the things I explain to you have been proven in my heart. That is why I share them with you. Sometimes you need to believe it first and then you will see it.” ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ Pennie’s Life Lesson: Not all lessons need to be scientifically proven. At times you need to trust and believe it is true. ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ YOUR TURN...
Share your thoughts and experiences relating to this post in a comment below. And please feel free to email me at: PennieHunt@gmail.com. Thank you! ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ All Rights Reserved Copyright © 2013-2022 Pennie Hunt This was written and produced by Pennie Hunt. Feel free to forward and share this post. Please keep the entire message intact, including contact, logo, and copyright information.  My husband and I both have a fear of Ferris wheels. There is something about being suspended in mid-air, with our legs dangling from a bucket as it swings and rotates that is not our idea of fun. Recently, while visiting Atlanta, we planned a day of site seeing. We walked from our hotel to Centennial Olympic Park to visit the attractions in that area. With a little time before our first tour, we stumbled upon something that was hard to miss. The SkyView Atlanta Ferris Wheel. This isn’t the average carnival Ferris wheel. This is 20 stories high; an impressive sight to see. We read the sign about how it rotates 4 times, the buckets are actually enclosed air-conditioned gondolas and the ride takes about 15 minutes. None of this lessened our fear of Ferris wheels… and this was a big one. There wasn’t a line and we had some time, so we decided if we were going to do it we better get our butts on the ride. Without hesitation, we bought our tickets, jumped in and heard the door lock. Suddenly we gave each other the what-have-we-done look! I’m not sure about my husband, but for the first rotation my eyes were closed, my breath was held and fear took over. Reaching the top of the second rotation I opened my eyes. The view was incredible! It felt like we could see the entire city. By the third rotation we were both smiling. After the fourth we were glad to put our feet back on the ground, yet happy for the experience. Isn't life so often like this? We stand by silently wishing we could jump on the ride, yet we hesitate and hush our enthusiasm. Our fear takes over and we play it safe by just watching instead of participating. The time isn't right, what if we would get hurt or fall off and of course we will do it another time. Life isn't always a smooth ride. It can go round and round with monotonous predictability, then suddenly everywhere we turn we are hit, jerked and slammed like bumper cars jolting back and forth. It can be dangerous to ride life’s roller coaster up and down through the peaks and valleys. On the ride of life, it is inside the bumps and jerks that we learn our biggest lessons. Without the valleys of fear and desperation we can’t appreciate the peaks of being on top where the view is incredible. If we stand on the sidelines we may never know what we missed. If we had thought about our fear we wouldn’t have gotten on that Ferris wheel. We would have missed the experience. The second chance may have never come. Now, Let's get our butts on the RIDE! ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ Pennie's Life Lesson: "Don’t stand on the sidelines of life – jump in and enjoy the ride!” ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ YOUR TURN...
Share your thoughts and experiences relating to this post in a comment below. And please feel free to email me at: PennieHunt@gmail.com. Thank you! ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ All Rights Reserved Copyright © 2013-2022 Pennie Hunt This was written and produced by Pennie Hunt. Feel free to forward and share this post. Please keep the entire message intact, including contact, logo, and copyright information.  It was just an English muffin. I've cut hundreds of them. This time I used the new knife. The one with a lifetime guarantee of sharpness. I began slicing slowly back and forth and then in a blur it slid quickly through the muffin and my finger. A temporary numbness circled my finger until the blood, spilling over the cutting board, triggered my pain sensor. Dropping the knife, the blood trailed me to the sink where the pink water ran cold down the drain. No explanation was needed as I walked into the Urgent Care Office. One wave of my bandaged hand told the story and a clipboard was passed through the glass window. Waiting on the examining table silently scolding myself for being so careless, regret turned to anger for buying the new knife. The old one had worked just fine and if I hadn't been using that new sharp one I wouldn't be sitting here now. I would throw it away the minute I returned home. Snapping on her rubber gloves she squinted as she peeled open my amateur attempt at bandaging. "Ouch," she said. More squinting. "New knife?" My head nodded while I bit my lip. She unemotionally prodded my self-inflicted wound. Expecting a cautionary lecture about using sharp knives, she surprised me with quite a different piece of wisdom. "You should only use sharp knives." That gained my attention. She continued. "When you use a dull knife all the time you lose respect for it. You blindly push hard on it without fear of cutting yourself. Then when you do use a sharp knife, you’re shocked at the power and speed of it. If you always use a sharp knife you stay aware. You pay attention.” Simultaneously, her lecture and the stitches were complete. Gloves were snapped off. “You should only use sharp knives." She restated her point and left the room. I was on my way home, still stunned by the whirlwind of the last hour, the stitches in my finger and the wisdom I received. The wisdom went much deeper than the cut to my finger. Just as I had lost the awareness of the sharpness of the knife, I realized many times I live my life with dulled awareness. I needed to sharpen my senses. I needed to see and touch and taste and hear and feel with more mindful awareness. The doctor's message was not wasted on my cutlery. I washed my new knife, threw my dull ones away and began sharpening myself. The toaster now held a new English muffin. It filled my kitchen with the smell of comfort. Feeling the sensation returning to my finger, I touched my bandage with compassion. The day looked clearer. Now, I felt a new awareness and appreciation for my own lifetime guarantee of sharpness. Although this event happened years ago, I have never forgotten the lesson. All my knives remain sharp! ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ Pennie's Life Lesson: By sharpening your attention you will enjoy mindful awareness in every moment. ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ YOUR TURN...
Share your thoughts and experiences relating to this post in a comment below. And please feel free to email me at: PennieHunt@gmail.com. Thank you! ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ All Rights Reserved Copyright © 2013-2022 Pennie Hunt This was written and produced by Pennie Hunt. Feel free to forward and share this post. Please keep the entire message intact, including contact, logo, and copyright information.  I grew up on a boat. Well, I didn’t live on a boat, but we always had one. The first memory I have of a boat is of our family camping trips. My dad built a plywood camping box that fit on the luggage rack of our white Pontiac station wagon. He painted it red and filled it with our tent, sleeping bags and supplies. It was quite a sight to see our family driving down the road. A white ‘66 station wagon with a long red coffin-looking box on top, three kids and a dog inside. After setting up the campsite, my parents loaded snacks, blankets, fishing poles and three kids in the boat and took us night fishing for trout. Once the trolling lines were untangled and the cowbell strings were dangling in the water, my dad steered the boat slowly back and forth across the lake. The moon created sparkling diamonds on the water as the waves slapped the sides of the boat. My brother, sister and I were wrapped in blankets and snuggled together under the bow of the boat with just enough space for everyone. The vibration of the motor mesmerized us to sleep. It was magical. As years went by, our tent turned into campers and our boats became bigger. Water skiing became our pastime. I remember rushing to the lake with my brother just as the sun was coming up and the lake was smooth as glass. That was the best time to ski- before the other boats broke the glass. As a young beginner, I would hold the rope tightly, concentrating on staying right behind the boat while my brother would motion with his arms for me to jump the wake and ski to the side. I was afraid. The wake seemed so big. I knew the outside of the wake was smooth, fast and fun, but I was afraid I would fall. I was afraid to make the jump. I ignored him. My brother was proficient at slalom skiing. He would jump the wake with ease and ski to the side as if racing the boat and then leaning back to allow the slack in the rope to catch up he created a rainbow spray twice as tall as he was. It was impressive. I was in awe. Then one day it was time. I was skiing like I always did, white-knuckling the handle of the rope and then I tried to make the jump. It was a spectacular fall and the splash was impressive. My fear was validated. I tried again. I’m not exactly sure how many times I tried before I made it successfully to the other side. I hit the smooth spot, I raced the boat, I made a small spray. I did it. I don’t know how many times my brother and I skied together over the years, but I will never forget the first time I jumped the wake. Since then, I have jumped wakes in life many times. I’m not always successful. It isn’t always pretty. I’ve had times when the fall was painful. But it takes courage to try. You are not always going to hit the smooth spot and create that magical spray of water that surrounds you with the awe of others. It is in taking the risk, that you build the confidence to try again and again. I have never matched my brother’s level of skiing. In life, there will always be those who jump the wake higher, race the boat faster and send a larger spray of success across the glass. In life, there will always be those who grip the handle staying behind the boat happily enjoying the safety inside the wake. In life, there will always be those who never get in the water, but they love to navigate the boat while cheering for the skier. Which one are you? There is no one right answer. We need all three. Without the navigator no one could ski. Without the people skiing on the outside of the wake there would never be giant sprays of success. And without the ones who stay between the lines of the wake we wouldn’t have a zone of safety to lean into. And even within those three choices there will always be someone who is better (and worse) at the task than we are. This is what causes balance in life. This is what creates space for everyone. This is what makes life magical. Pennie’s Life Lesson: In life we get to choose which space to hold. We get to create our own magic. YOUR TURN...
Share your thoughts and experiences relating to this post in a comment below. And please feel free to email me at: PennieHunt@gmail.com. Thank you! ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ All Rights Reserved Copyright © 2013-2022 Pennie Hunt This was written and produced by Pennie Hunt. Feel free to forward and share this post. Please keep the entire message intact, including contact, logo, and copyright information.  I hadn’t seen her in over 10 years. Occasionally her name would appear in a comment on my social media posts. A smiley face here -A thumbs up there - Once in a while asking me to call her. When I tried to call the number she posted, it was incorrect, and I was met with a recorded message that the number had been disconnected. Months went by and she again posted the correct number and asked me to call. I did and left a voice mail with my phone number in case she wanted to call me back. She never did. A couple of weeks ago another familiar name caught my eye in a comment under one of my posts. This time from her sister that simply said, “I don’t know if you heard but….” My friend had passed away. I was stunned. I sat back in my chair reading the sentence over and over. The sentence that took me back to 7th grade when we were best friends. When we spent summers swimming at the local pool and talking about boys. The nights we would walk around our neighborhood and look at the stars. The shopping, movies, phone calls and giggles. One day we were at a park and I climbed to the top of the playground slide. I held the sides of the ladder, looking out across the countryside and sang a song by The Who, “I can see for miles and miles and miles and miles and miles…. Oh yeah.” She laughed and laughed – partly at my horrible singing and partly because we really could see that far across the never-ending field and that far into the lives we had ahead of us. It was her laugh that I heard as I sat back in my chair not believing what I had just read. Interestingly a month earlier, I had been contemplating how friendship can be deep and yet time, location, and so many circumstances can change the dynamic of the relationship. I wrote about the ebb and flow of friendships and how difficult it is to keep these deep connections through the years. (You can read that writing here.) I regret not trying harder to call when she asked me to. I regret all the disconnected years since we ran through that playground. I feel the loss. The loss of a person who knew my teenage secrets. The loss of the person who stood up with me at my wedding in 1976. The loss of a friendship. The loss of that laugh in my life. I hope my sweet friend is in a place where she can see for miles and miles and miles and miles and miles…. Oh yeah. Pennie’s Life Lesson: “Make the phone call. It may be the last chance you get to hear your friend laugh.”(Click here to TWEET!) **If you don't know the song - here is a video. YOUR TURN...
Share your thoughts and experiences relating to this post in a comment below. And please feel free to email me at: PennieHunt@gmail.com. Thank you! ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ All Rights Reserved Copyright © 2013-2022 Pennie Hunt This was written and produced by Pennie Hunt. Feel free to forward and share this post. Please keep the entire message intact, including contact, logo, and copyright information.  Summers are known for picnics, parades and fireworks. The rituals and traditions passed from generation to generation are an important thread in the family history that many of us cherish. Family gatherings include favorite stories and food that burn memories into our minds. Objects become triggers that take us back to a smell, a space and a time from long ago. When I saw the ice cream bucket, I was there. I was back in my grandmother’s kitchen watching her turn the hand-powered eggbeater. She whipped the eggs into a yellow foam before adding the vanilla, brown sugar, warm creamy milk and junket tablets. When the oven door opened the house was filled with the smell of chocolate cake. As the ice cream mixture cooled, she covered the cake with her homemade brown sugar frosting. This was the way we did family gatherings in the hot, humid summers of Illinois. When the cake was complete and the milky mixture cooled, it was time to bring out the guest of honor. The ice cream bucket. Then the ceremony began. The ice cream mixture was poured into the tall metal inner canister. The canister was slid into the bucket and surrounded by ice and rock salt. The handle was assembled, and a blanket was folded on top. The rusty handle fit every hand. The hand of my grandfather as he turned and churned the milky richness inside. The hand of my uncle as he packed ice and salt in the open space between the wooden slats and the metal cylinder, then taking over the chore and pleasure of the cranking. The hand of my father as he impishly pushed his brother-in-law from the crank so he too could take credit for blending the anticipated delight. My hands and the hands of my cousins, brother and sister joined as we struggled with joyous giggles, layering hand on top of hand to create the strength to turn the crank. Taking turns, we sat on the blanket covered throne watching the melting ice turn to cloudy saltwater and drizzle down the side. And then, when all capacity to budge the handle even one more turn became impossible, more blankets were layered on top to allow the ice cream to become solid and our anticipation to grow. When the time was right, the bucket was uncovered. My grandmother’s bony hands pulled the frosted silver chamber from the bucket, opening it to reveal the deliciousness of my childhood. ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ Pennie’s Life Lesson: The simplicity of life becomes the boldest of memories. ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ YOUR TURN...
Share your thoughts and experiences relating to this post in a comment below. And please feel free to email me at: PennieHunt@gmail.com. Thank you! ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ All Rights Reserved Copyright © 2013-2022 Pennie Hunt This was written and produced by Pennie Hunt. Feel free to forward and share this post. Please keep the entire message intact, including contact, logo, and copyright information.  We have a new friend in our yard. We have never seen him. He comes out at night to play, hunt and make messes. In the morning when we wake up he has created another deep hole and a new mound of fresh dirt on our property. At first I thought it was interesting, but with every new mound of dirt I see the problem getting bigger. My mind imagines the small mounds of dirt layering into a mountain of unmanageable size. I worry that our property will be destroyed. Worry is a natural human trait. We all have times in our lives when we worry. A little worrying can be a positive motivator. We worry about passing a test, so we study. We worry about doing a presentation at work, so we prepare and make sure our facts are correct. We worry about having enough money to retire so we save and invest money in our nest egg. When our grown children are struggling, or our aging parents are declining we support them in the hope of controlling and alleviating the worry we feel. These are normal life concerns that most of us share and have the power to control. We all worry. There are times when our worrying takes over our lives. We play the worst possible scenario through our minds repeatedly and with every viewing the outcome is worse. I call this type of worry, Negative Meditation. Normally we meditate to clear our minds to allow space for peace and calm to enter. When we run the film of negative outcomes continually through our minds we are meditating on the negative and filling our minds with fear. This kind of negative meditation can cause us to catastrophize every event. We exaggerate the situation and visualize the worst outcome. The test we could easily study for to control the result becomes a constant movie in our minds that ends in us failing and dropping out of school. The presentation at work that we could prepare for to feel confident in our ability is replayed in our minds until we believe we will be fired. We worry so much about saving for retirement that we live a life depriving ourselves daily out of fear for the future. And a couple of molehills in my yard grow into a mountain in my mind that cannot be contained. Our perception of normal difficulties becomes skewed. The smallest of problems become mountains that we see no way to climb. We layer one problem with another and another until we are so overwhelmed that we freeze or explode. How do we avoid the explosion? Ask these questions: Can I control the outcome of this problem? Is this my problem to own? Am I being realistic about the problem or am I catastrophizing it to be bigger and more difficult than it is? Many times, we can control the problem we are worried about. We need a plan of action and a strategy to solve it. Many times, it is not even our problem, yet we take it on as if we need to ‘fix’ everything for everyone. If it is not our problem to own, then let the ownership of the problem and the solution stay with the person it belongs to. Many times, our imagination and constant negative meditation can increase the size of a problem to an inflated unrealistic level. Many times, a mound of dirt is just a molehill and not a mountain. ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ Pennie’s Life Lesson: Don’t let your imagination catastrophize every event. Sometimes it is just a molehill. ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ YOUR TURN...
Share your thoughts and experiences relating to this post in a comment below. And please feel free to email me at: PennieHunt@gmail.com. Thank you! ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ All Rights Reserved Copyright © 2013-2022 Pennie Hunt This was written and produced by Pennie Hunt. Feel free to forward and share this post. Please keep the entire message intact, including contact, logo, and copyright information.  It was the third cemetery I had walked through in less than 24 hours. While visiting the state where my grandparents lived, the passing of time lead me to where snapshots of my childhood were now tucked within the granite speckled grass. My mind flash-danced through memories as I walked. The laughter of my handsome uncle who I was certain I would grow up to marry until he passed away as a result of a truck accident. My aunt’s impish smile and her black cat-eyed glasses that were popular in the 60’s. She brought a new word into my vocabulary and world – Cancer. My grandmother whose kind, gentle hands taught me how to paint, decorate cakes and see the magical, spiritual side of life- and death. My cousin, one year older than me, that shared my memories of homemade ice cream on our grandparent’s porch and reminded us all that life can end with one attack to the heart. The man I called Grandad. It was a name that fit. He was tall, gentle, quiet and grand in the way he blended strength and kindness. My dad was 4 when Grandad came into his life and took over the role his dad had left vacant. Now, on my third stop, I searched for a name that held no memories for me. No snapshots of the past. I searched for the man who passed away from tuberculosis when my dad was 9 months old.  Up and down the grass I walked. Then in the area marked by a crumbling post that once read, Section 3, I found a simple flat stone. Loren Franklin Hunt 1904-1931 I am not sure what I thought I would feel or learn from this discovery. I am not sure if I expected a connection of heart or spirit. I was sure that I needed to, in some way, meet the man I never knew- yet without him fathering my dad I wouldn’t be here. I needed to feel the same love and respect for him as I did all the others I had visited in the grass that day.  I stood a long time to study his name. I wondered what his laugh sounded like; what his smile was like; what his hands felt like as he held my newborn Dad; and I wondered if he was as grand in his strength and kindness as the man who stepped into his shoes. Life repeats in serendipitous ways. When my son passed away, also at a young age, he too left a 9-month-old child, my granddaughter. As I stood there, I realized why I had been driven to find the marker of a man I never knew. It was for him. It was for my dad. It was for me. It was for my son. It was for my granddaughter. I closed my eyes and sent a wish of hope that someday someone will share love and respect for his life and the generations that followed him. I closed my eyes and sent a wish of hope that someday someone will care enough to search in the same way I did for the name of a man they never knew. Pennie’s Life Lesson: “Love doesn’t stop when you leave this life. Send gratitude to all who came before you.” YOUR TURN...
Share your thoughts and experiences relating to this post in a comment below. And please feel free to email me at: PennieHunt@gmail.com. Thank you! ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ All Rights Reserved Copyright © 2013-2022 Pennie Hunt This was written and produced by Pennie Hunt. Feel free to forward and share this post. Please keep the entire message intact, including contact, logo, and copyright information. |
AuthorThere is a certain magic about where I live both physically and spiritually – on the crossroads of Spirit and Brave. Archives
November 2022
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