Ruth’s enticing invitation to a world of wide-eyed wonder

In the clamorous, chattering world we call ‘Social Media’…

a world of fascinating My-Milestone-Mentions and Accomplishment-Announcements…
a world of bustling and barging…
a world of as much braying and babbling…
as there is blessing and benevolence…

there has quietly emerged a Blog that is Delightfully Different.
It’s Ruth Sturkey‘s ‘1,000 Weeks’

Given that she has stepped beyond the temptation to proclaim brilliant-business-building or liberating-leadership skills…
(She’s been there. Done that. Twice.)

‘1,000 Weeks’ invites us to rise above the fretting and frittering of our wondrous, precious hours and days.

It asks us to laugh with Nature’s sense of humour, at a point in life when we accept that…
we’ve not the slightest idea how many precious weeks are ahead of us.

It asks us to remember, recall, review and replay all that has been worth celebrating and cherishing about our mortal journey.
Then, perhaps living it again. But on our terms this time.

Ruth’s ‘1,000 Weeks‘ doesn’t lay (uninvited) advice in front of us.
It does something more magical than that!

It DRAWS OUT OF US…
out of the wells of our minds and hearts…
those things that WE think and feel about this adventure we call ‘Life’.

It does so with as much honesty and humour…
as much piquancy and piercing…
as with gentleness and generosity.

(Selfishly), I’d like to share what it drew from me recently.

The request by ‘1,000 Weeks’ was to share moments of Celebration in our life. So, I shared these:

“Sometimes I’m caught off guard by a moment which is so delicious…
I find myself celebrating with for-the-sheer-joy-of-it laughter.

• It might be giggling with a friend at a silly comment made in a supposedly serious setting.
• It might be when a months-old grandchild expresses excitement by trying to gum me to death.
• It might be screaming with friends as we dip into the sea together.
• It might be the air-pumping, choking “Yeeees!”… when I find out I don’t have cancer.
• It might be singing my head off with the far-too-bright children (who teach me) on a Sunday.
• It might just be the quiet moments (at the end of that exhausting week) when my wife and I snuggle down to slowly savour some dark chocolate.

In all of those moments…
Friendship, love and underlying currents of meaning enrich the celebration.”

Thank you, Ruth, for a Blog that encourages – and draws out of us – such memories!