Inspired by the age old tradition of mothers passing on advice to their daughters, we’ve invited our own mother’s, Barbara Justiz and Beverly Duckworth, to share their wisdom and wit with you on our blog every month. Today we share a post from Beverly…
I love the month of May. The color yellow always springs to mind when I think of this month. Probably because the Welsh hillsides are filled with our National Flower, the daffodil, at this time of year. Such a beautiful bloom! May is also the month of my birth. I always feel stronger, sexier and more grateful as my birthday approaches. So much so, that I wish I could bottle this feeling and carry it with me through the other 11 months of the year!
Gratitude of course can and should be a daily practice. When I’m grateful, I’m looking out at the horizon, at the wonderful possibilities ahead and I am hopeful. When I’m lacking gratitude, I tend to look down and inwards and as a result, my world gets smaller and becomes all about me.
Even on our low days, we can choose not to stay looking inwards. Who says we can’t stop our day at anytime, take a minute, change our attitude and start all over again? There’s so much magic to be seen, if we simply allow it to enter our day to day.
I plan to practice shining brightly this month and sharing my light with all I come into contact with. Practice makes perfect… so bring it on June!
P.S. This poem always brings a bit of magic to my day…
I Wandered Lonely As A Cloud
By William Wordsworth
That floats on high o’er vales and hills,
When all at once I saw a crowd,
A host, of golden daffodils;
Beside the lake, beneath the trees,
Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.
Continuous as the stars that shine
And twinkle on the milky way,
They stretched in never-ending line
Along the margin of a bay:
Ten thousand saw I at a glance,
Tossing their heads in sprightly dance.
The waves beside them danced; but they
Out-did the sparkling waves in glee:
A poet could not but be gay,
In such a jocund company:
I gazed–and gazed–but little thought
What wealth the show to me had brought
For oft, when on my couch I lie
In vacant or in pensive mood,
They flash upon that inward eye
Which is the bliss of solitude;
And then my heart with pleasure fills,
And dances with the daffodils.