The Inner Vizion

Breaking Through From The Inside Out!

Only in my view

I still get that surge of excitement from deep within when I hold a book in my hands.  The weight of it, the crisp sound that each page makes as I turn them, even the smell of the glue in the binding galvanizes the cells within my brain.  It creates a sense of wonderment as I take the first step from this world to the one within the pages.  Each character comes alive within my imagination.  Spurred on by the building of descriptive words, like turning a pile of clay into a detailed likeness of a goddess.  Even though the author turns my head with their guidance, there is a part of me that participates in the creation of that character.  I see them as no other can.  There are nuances that will only happen in my head.  Only in my view.

The same thing happens when I put a record on the player.  The vinyl does something magical that a cd can’t touch. As the needle travels along each ridge, the atmosphere in the room changes. All my senses are heightened.  Turning back time and taking me to the moment that the music was created.  I don’t hear pro-tools.  Compression is non-existent.  It is pure and raw.  If I strain my ears and listen hard, I hear flaws.  Beautiful, unadulterated flaws.  I feel that I have the right to be there. That it’s not a sin to listen in and hear all the things that make up that glorious whole.  Like a licensed voyeur.  Peeking in to where I shouldn’t but knowing that the creaIMG_5474tor would consider it “ok” for me to be there.  I see something different.  Something old, but fresh.  Only in my view.

Now don’t get me wrong. I”m not a prude.  I love technology more than anyone.  A new gadget.  An easier way to do something so as not to work hard, but smarter. Saving time.  Saving space.  Connecting faster and farther. I’ve tried though, sincerely, to gather that same feeling with the tools that exists today.  I do own an ipad and am a hearty participant in the download power of books, movies and music.  I use the internet to communicate, both through business and personal avenues.  But that feeling that I get from reading a physical book or handling that vinyl record, can’t be duplicated.

Even as I write this, I see pen and paper in my peripheral view.  It is white and clean, like an over-starched man’s shirt.  It beckons me to pick up the fine-tipped pen and begin to scrawl, in my own individual writing, what i want to say.  What I want to share.  For some reason, when I write on paper, I’m more honest.  I feel like there is something that is released within me. Walls are torn down.  I feel free.  My hand moves along like a artist painting a priceless creation.  When I”m done writing,  I look over what I’ve done.  I can’t believe that it happened so quickly and smoothly and gracefully.  I feel proud of it.  I transferred a part of me onto that paper.  Something that time can’t destroy.  Yes, a wrinkle or two will occur.  I realize that the words will dull from reading it over and over.  That loving hands may fold and unfold the paper it was written on.  It may get lost and then found again.  It may even be thrown away.  But the essence that surrounded the creation of it cannot be disturbed.  A memory was made.  Etched in time.  With each press of the pen to the paper, secrets were told and revealed.  I was honest.  Unhindered and free.

I try.  I try to get the same reaction from my modern technology.  It just doesn’t work for me the same way. Even as I type these words, my hand aches to write a note and put it in my special box.  One day, someone will find all these handwritten notes and share that individual, unique moment that I created with hand and ink. I hope that when they do, they can take a step back in time and share my view.

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Zoom In

Zoom In

We had agreed that this past 4th of July we needed to force ourselves to take some time, shut down the operations and just rest.  Isn’t it crazy that we have to force ourselves to rest?  So, we packed a cooler and an overnight bag and joined some friends at a local, but off the beaten path, park. Our good friends had hooked up their fifth wheel trailer and parked it smack dab in the middle of Stress Free Campground, named accordingly. It was quiet, secluded and downright chill.  It had all the earmarks of time gone by.  An old chicken coop, weathered wooden benches, a tiny park with one of those spin it yourself merry go rounds and a concrete swimming pool complete with flaking paint and a weeks worth of leaves.  The ambience was reminiscent of small town USA, a bit forgotten. Not the Taj Mahal, but it provided a much needed escape from the chaos of our business life.  We turned off the cellphones, grabbed the lawn chairs and headed to the pool.  Not surprisingly, it was empty.  All to ourselves.   As we opened the crooked gate, it growned in defiance.   A perfect setting for our goal.  We wanted to, for a short period, just forget time.

My husband and friend dared the water, conversation and laughter ensued and we began to fall into that comfortable place of quiet and sun and relaxation. 


As always, I can’t rest long.  My mind starts to move and before I know it, I”m up and about, looking for something to do.  I grabbed my camera and began searching the view finder for something unique.  A bug caught my attention and I spent a couple of minutes following his trail.  Someone jumped in the pool and I changed direction. Snapping away, I followed the little waves through my viewfinder.  It always amazes me how different the world looks when it is directed on the still shot.  Nothing else in the view, but the straight ahead. I sat down and started clicking through some of the photos that I had taken.  I’m a connoisseur of the closeup and was taking a quick look to enjoy what I had captured.   As I began to zoom in on one of the water photos, something started to form before my very eyes.  The foam and the movement of the water had taken on the shape of the number 3.  This number is one that has been vital in my life…starting with my faith and trust in the trinity of God, my three daughters and so much more.  *bunny trail – Something that many people don’t know, I have 3 kidneys! (One is a double embryo, they say – Overachiever here!)  What a cool reminder to me that God sends us little notes all through His creation.

I began to think how many times we miss things in our daily life because we don’t make the time to ‘zoom in’.  We have become surface viewers.  We just can’t help ourselves. We don’t stop long enough to smell the roses.  As a matter of fact, we tend to skim over the visual of the roses and we don’t even see them growing in front of us.  We live in an era of visual chaos.  It consumes us. We just can’t seem to find the time to zoom in, to take that extra moment and discover what is beneath.  I haven’t been able to shake this thought today.  What am I missing, Lord?  What have I missed?  What will I miss if I don’t change the way I view things?  That antsy feeling started rising up in me once again.  This time, it had some direction.  I’m finding myself wanting to stop, drop and zoom in on the things around me.  Taking time to be quiet, then to sit in the quiet and take a closer look.

Creatively His, Sue;)

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