To Surprising Yourself in the New Year with how GREAT You Are and This World IS In Reflection of You and All of US – these United States of Being
Be a Part of the World
Join Hands with the Universe
And Become Your Next New Butterfly!
For the Next New You with an Even Newer View!
(from Vice Versa Verse – Inspiring Twists on How to View Your Life and Fill Your Soul at KimConrad.com)
Award Winning Author
Inspirational Speaker, Mentor, Facilitator
A dear friend told me about her squash soup recipe the other day. It sounded delicious! I asked her to email the recipe. She did.
What she emailed me is a phenomenal guide I think for any recipe – even a recipe for life – being present, chosing joy while surrounding yourself and your chosen activity with all the “good stuff.” I’ve bolded the “good stuff”… then plug in whatever recipe you are cooking up – food or otherwise 🙂
Revise as serves you best!
- Be in a creative mood
2. Be in a kitchen
3. Like squash & soup
4. Bake a tasty squash & let it cool
5. Puree squash without outer peel
6. Saute veggies of your choice in oil of your choice then cool & puree
7. Heat vegetable stock on stove & add in all of puree, stirring until combined.
8. Add in leftovers that you have that would taste good with squash, some you might want to puree first if you like a smooth consistency, otherwise just dump them in for a more stew-like experience.
9. Add in some kind of creamy liquid to your liking such as cow, goat, sheep, coconut, rice, almond, soy or hemp milk. Heat to a simmer.
10. Serve in a bowl with a sprinkling of herbs of your liking.
Just a note from my heart to yours to wish you Happy Holidays and a VERY Happy and Blessed New Year with whatever you celebrate.
I just saw this post and I had no idea how many holidays occur between November and mid January….. For me I would re-phrase the last line as “And I think all of our heart felt holidays count.”
PLUS we have the opportunity to make each and every day a holiday – a joy – a gift inside and out however we choose.
To the BLESSINGS of YOU!
I saw this from Rumi and thought of You –
You have no idea how hard I’ve looked
for a gift to bring You.
Nothing seemed right.
What’s the point of bringing gold to
the gold mine, or water to the ocean.
Everything I came up with was like
taking spices to the Orient.
It’s no good giving my heart and my
soul because you already have these.
So I’ve brought you a mirror.
Look at yourself and remember me.
Hi Everyone! Thanks SO MUCH FOR BEING HERE!
I LOVE Fun and Cute animal photos…..
My Best Wishes for a WONDERFUL Holiday Season! Here are some FUN photos for Christmas and Hanukkah – I hope they bring smiles to your face whatever you celebrate….
And – Who can forget Rabbi Penguin …
I know this story is a bit long….and it’s definitely worth the read…. it touches the heart and is a testimony to what can happen when we follow where our heart leads, even if it doesn’t make sense in the moment.
Then a BIG THANK YOU for YOU – Do you know how AMAZING You Are?
Thank you for being a part of my life through this blog….
The other note I wish to share is – riches come in all packages: some are with goods, some with money, and many with relationships, gratitude, a net worth beyond all things monetary…. if you wish to look….what are things in your life to be grateful for – those are things that also make you rich – likely richer in “personal” net worth than you may have ever realized…. enjoy this discovery – I have…
And – Now enjoy this story: “Bert’s Thanksgiving”
By J. T. Trowbridge revised by Kristina Harding
At noon on a dreary November day, a lonesome little fellow stood at the door of a cheap restaurant in Boston, and offered a solitary copy of a morning paper for sale to the people passing.But there were really not many people passing, for it was Thanksgiving Day, and the shops were closed, and everybody who had a home to go to, and a dinner to eat, seemed to have gone home.
An old man, with a face that looked pinched, and who was dressed in a seedy black coat, stopped at the same doorway, and, with one hand on the latch, he appeared to hesitate between hunger and a sense of poverty, before going in.It was possible, however, that he was considering whether he could afford himself the indulgence of a morning paper, seeing it was Thanksgiving Day; so at least Bert thought, and addressed him accordingly.
“Buy a paper, sir? All about the fire in East Boston, and arrest of burglars in Springfield. Only two cents.”
The little old man looked at the boy, with keen gray eyes which seemed to light up the pinched look of his face, and answered in a shrill voice,”You ought to come down in your price, this time of day. You can’t expect to sell a morning paper at 12 o’clock for full price.”
“Well, give me a cent, then,” said Bert. “That’s less than cost; but never mind. I’m bound to sell out, anyhow.”
“You look cold,” said the old man.
“Cold,” replied Bert, “I’m nearly froze. And I want my dinner. And I’m going to have a big dinner, too, seeing it’s Thanksgiving Day.”
“Ah! Lucky for you, my boy!” said the old man. “You’ve a home to go to, and friends, too I hope.”
“No, sir; no home, and no friend—only my mother.”
“It’s more lonesome not to eat at all,” said the old man, his gray eyes twinkling. “Here, I guess I can find one cent for you—though there’s nothing in the paper, I know.”
The old man spoke with some feeling, his fingers trembled, and somehow he dropped two cents instead of one into Bert’s hand.”Here! You’ve made a mistake!” cried Bert. “A bargain’s a bargain. You’ve given me a cent too much!”
“No, I didn’t,—I never give anybody a cent too much!”
“But—see here!” And Bert showed the two cents, offering to return one.
“No matter,” said the old man. “It will be so much less for my dinner—that’s all.”
Bert had instinctively pocketed the pennies, but he felt bad.”Poor old man!” he thought; “he’s seen better days, I guess. Perhaps he’s no home. A boy like me can stand it, but I guess it must be hard for him. He meant to give me two cents the whole time; and I don’t believe he has had a decent dinner for many a day.””Look here,” he cried; “where are you going to get your dinner, to-day?”
“I can get a bite here as well as anywhere—it don’t matter much to me,” replied the old man.
“I’ll pay for your dinner!” Bert exclaimed. “Come! We don’t have a Thanksgiving but once a year, and a fellow wants a good time then.”
“Ah!” said the man, taking off his hat and giving it a brush with his elbow as they entered the restaurant, as if trying to appear as respectable as he could.He placed his hat on the floor, and took a seat opposite Bert at a little table which they had all to themselves. Bert offered him the menu.
“I must ask you to choose for me; nothing very extravagant, you know I am used to plain food.”
“So am I. But I’m going to have a dinner, for once in my life, and so are you,” cried Bert, generously. “What do you say to chicken soup—and end up with a big piece of pumpkin pie! How’s that for a Thanksgiving dinner?”
“Scrumptuous!” said the old man, appearing to glow with the warmth of the room and the prospect of a good dinner. “But won’t it cost you too much?”
“Too much? No, sir!” said Bert. “Chicken soup, fifteen cents; pie—they give tremendous big pieces here, thick, I tell you—ten cents. That’s twenty-five cents; half a dollar for two. Of course, I don’t do eat this way every day of the year! Here! Waiter!” And Bert gave his princely order as if he did it every day.
“Where is your mother? Why don’t you have dinner with her?” the little man asked.
Bert’s face grew sober in a moment.”That’s the question! Why don’t I? I’ll tell you why I don’t. I’ve got the best mother in the world! What I want more than anything is to be with my mother and my two sisters again, and I am not ashamed to say so.”Bert’s eyes grew very tender, and he went on; while his companion across the table watched him with a very gentle, searching look.”I haven’t been with her now for two years—hardly at all since father died. Mom couldn’t support my sisters and so I said, I’m a boy; I can do something to help. I’ll go to work, and maybe help you a little, besides taking care of myself.”
“What could you do?” said the little old man.
“That’s it; I was only eleven years old; and what could I do? So I started selling newspapers. I’ve sold newspapers ever since, and I shall be twelve years old next month.”
“You like it?” said the old man.
“It’s okay to help make my own living,” replied Bert, proudly. “But what I want is, to learn some trade, or regular business, and settle down and make a home for my mother. But there’s no use talking about that.””Well I’ve told you about myself,” added Bert; “now suppose you tell me something?”
“Yes. I think that would go pretty well with the pie.”
But the man shook his head. “Life isn’t what we think it will be, when we are young. You’ll find that out soon enough. I am all alone in the world now; and I am nearly seventy years old.”
“It must be so lonely, at your age! What do you do for a living?”
“I have a little place in Devonshire Street. My name is Mr. Crooker. You’ll find me up two flights of stairs, back room at the right. Come and see me, and I’ll tell you all about my business and perhaps help you get a better job, for I know several business men.”And Mr. Crooker wrote his address, with a little stub of a pencil, on a corner of the newspaper which had led to their acquaintance, tore it off carefully, and gave it to Bert.
“Well, Bert,” said the old man, “I’m glad to make your acquaintance, and I hope you’ll come and see me. You’ll find me in very humble quarters. Now won’t you let me pay for my dinner? I believe I have enough money. Let me see.” And he put his hand in his pocket.
Bert would not hear of such a thing; but walked up to the desk, and paid the whole bill.
When he looked around again, the little old man was gone.
“I’ll go and see him the first chance I have,” said Bert, as he looked at the penciled strip of newspaper margin again before putting it into his pocket.
On the following Monday, Bert went to call on his new friend in Devonshire Street. Having climbed the two flights, he found the door of the back room at the right ajar, and, looking in, saw Mr. Crooker at a desk, in the act of receiving a roll of money from a well-dressed visitor. Bert entered unnoticed, and waited till the money was counted and a receipt signed. Then, as the visitor departed, Mr. Crooker noticed the boy, offered him a chair, and then turned to place the money in the safe.
“So this is your place of business?” said Bert, glancing about the plain office room. “What do you do here?”
“I buy real estate, sometimes—sell—rent—and so forth.”
“Who for?” asked Bert.
“For myself,” said the old gentleman, with a smile.
Bert was shocked! This was the man whom he had invited to dinner last Thursday!?
“I—I—I thought—you were a poor man!”
“I am a poor man,” said Mr. Crooker, locking his safe. “Money doesn’t make a man rich. I’ve enough money. I own houses in the city. They give me something to think about and keep me busy. I had truer riches once, but I lost them long ago.”
From the way the old man’s voice trembled and eyes glistened, Bert thought he must have meant by these riches, the friends he had lost, wife and children, perhaps.
“To think of me inviting you to dinner!”
“It was odd. But it may turn out to have been a lucky circumstance for both of us. I like you. I believe in you, and I’ve an offer to make you. I want a trusty, bright boy in this office, somebody I can bring up in my business, and leave it with, as I get too old to run it myself. What do you say?”
What could Bert say?
The lonely, childless old man, who owned so many houses, wanted a home and a family. One of his houses he offered to Bert’s mother, with ample support for herself and children if she would allow him to live with them like a grandfather.
Of course she accepted; and Bert soon saw all his dreams come true. He had employment, which promised to become a profitable business, as indeed it did in a few years. The old man and the boy proved very useful to each other; and, more than that, he was united once more with his mother and sisters in a happy home, where he has since had many Thanksgiving dinners.
To the houses we create and build for ourselves with our lives and to the opportunities to rebuild and recreate them as often as we like….
To ALL of You wherever you and yours may be –
Have a Blessed Thanksgiving –
This story has just inspired me greatly. I am so touched. To all people of all faiths and those that opt for none – may your hearts continue to shine each and every day for yourself, others and the world.
To all the people and moments that are lived this way…. May there continue to increase and be so many more that it cannot help but be a contagious virus that spreads like wild fire until this butterfly in process succeeds and is born.
Thank you for the gift of you.
In Crown Heights, there was a Jew, Yankel, who owned a bakery. He survived the camps. He once said, “You know why it is that I’m alive today? I was a kid, just a teenager at the time. We were on the train, in a boxcar, being taken to Auschwitz. Night came and it was freezing, deathly cold, in that boxcar. The Germans would leave the cars on the side of the tracks overnight, sometimes for days on end without any food, and of course, no blankets to keep us warm,” he said. “Sitting next to me was an older Jew – this beloved elderly Jew – from my hometown I recognized, but I had never seen him like this. He was shivering from head to toe, and looked terrible. So I wrapped my arms around him and began rubbing him, to warm him up. I rubbed his arms, his legs, his face, his neck. I begged him to hang on. All night long; I kept the man warm this way. I was tired, I was freezing cold myself, my fingers were numb, but I didn’t stop rubbing the heat on to this man’s body. Hours and hours went by this way. Finally, night passed, morning came, and the sun began to shine. There was some warmth in the cabin, and then I looked around the car to see some of the other Jews in the car. To my horror, all I could see were frozen bodies, and all I could hear was a deathly silence.
Nobody else in that cabin made it through the night – they died from the frost. Only two people survived: the old man and me… The old man survived because somebody kept him
warm; I survived because I was warming somebody else…”
Let me tell you the secret of Judaism. When you warm other people’s hearts, you remain warm yourself. When you seek to support, encourage and inspire others; then you discover support, encouragement and inspiration in your own life as well. That, my friends, is “Judaism 101”.
I just read this wonderful article from Learnvest: “4 Ways to Be Philanthropic When You Can’t Give Alot”. I find they often have great information. This article is on MicroGiving – How you can make a little go a long way! Lots of valuable resource goodies are listed in the article.
Types of giving resources in the article are on:
1. Make a Microloan
2. Shop With Purpose
3. Crowdfund for a cause
4. Text to Donate
I had no idea! Did you know:
There’s no greater example of crowdfunding than the Statue of Liberty: The base of the monument was completed with the help of more than 120,000 donors—most of whom gave $1 or less.
Help liberate yourself and others by making a big difference with whatever amount truly works for you!
We are all of value and can give in many other ways than money as well….
a smile… a hug… an encouraging word… our time..
what if you acknowledged yourself and others today?
What kind of a difference will you chose to give and to receive?
(When we receive it is giving another person the opportunity to be received.)