Tag: love

Return If Possible

“Sadness is the soul’s way of saying this mattered.” – (from the video above), Jane’s “Ted Talk from Bed Talk”

I, like so many others, was a little bit soul-shattered to hear of Jane’s (Nightbirde) passing over this past weekend. I thought that Jane was incredible – the epitome of beauty, inside and outside. Her voice and her music were amazing, but her writing and her wisdom is what touched the depths of my being. I read recently that we all want to live a long life and to have a short death, and Jane didn’t get either of these. Still, Nightbirde persevered and she inspired millions all around the world, to do the same, and to remain in awe of the beauty in life, all around us. Jane often used the hashtag phrase, #SeeJaneWin. She did win. She won at life by living life fully, and honestly, and earnestly, and faithfully, and hopefully and authentically. She didn’t cheat herself from experiencing “the all of it All.” And she inspired so many others to do the same.

I’ve read a lot of the comments, outpouring on Nightbirde’s Instagram in these past hours after the announcement of her passing. Jane energized many people to keep on going, during their own trials, and health failings, and dark moments in their own lives. So many people testified to this fact. So many people consider Jane to be “an angel on Earth.” One person wrote R.I.P., RETURN IF POSSIBLE. I like that version of R.I.P. We need more Janes in this world. Jamal Edwards, a young, influential rapper, and writer from the United Kingdom recently passed in the last couple of days, as well. He is credited with this thought: “The goal is not to live forever, the goal is to make something that will.”

Our bodies will eventually turn to dust, and our things will be sold in estate auctions. Our only real, everlasting legacies are what and who we affected in this world. These actions are what create the ripples that move all across the waters that cover this entire world, and these collective actions form what we now call “history”. What we create, what we experience, and what we bring into fruition into this world are our gifts, and our endowments to the banks of inspiration, hope, wisdom, experience, strength, faith, beauty- all of the elements of life that others can draw off of, when needed. Our daily being is our one precious gift to this Tapestry of Life that is being created by all of us. We all have the ability to give the highest and fullest and truest forms of ourselves back to the banks of Life. That is our only goal: to give back to the world the only part of us that will last forever – Love.

Thank you, Jane. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Bless you, you beautiful soul.

nightbirde - Twitter Search / Twitter

Are you passing on love or are you passing on pain? Heal your pain and pass on love.

Clip-On Friday

21,555 Friday Happy Stock Photos, Pictures & Royalty-Free Images - iStock

I’m a big believer in trying to make every day a good day, but come on, on Fridays, “the good part” just doesn’t take much effort, does it? Friday is my favorite day of the week, mostly because I love the feelings of freedom and anticipation. On Fridays, here at the blog, I list my favorites. Typically, I try to list around three favorite products, or books, or TV shows, or whatevers that have helped to make my life interesting and enjoyable. Please share some of your favorites in my Comments section. It’s always fun to discover new favorites.

My favorite reading this morning:

“We cannot wake up and know who we are, as we are always building it. Much remains unreconciled, an indication of being alive.” – Holiday Mathis

Friends, we are all works in progress. That’s the joy and the process of living. Cut yourself a break this weekend and just experience the experience without judgment. Please, don’t take yourself so seriously. Be grateful that you have all of the ingredients: mind, body, and spirit, in order to fully experience the awesomeness of living a life on Earth. That’s honestly all there is to it.

My favorite story of the week:

My friend asked her mother-in-law if she believed in “love at first sight.” “Absolutely!” her mother-in-law replied. “It’s happened to me 14 times!” I imagine that there was a pregnant pause at this moment. I know that my eyebrows were raised listening to my friend tell her story. I thought to myself, “Wow, now that’s what I call a romantic!”

My friend’s mother-in-law continued, “The first time that I laid eyes on my three sons, and my eleven grandchildren and great-grandchildren, I completely experienced love at first sight. No doubts about it.”

Some people are just so awesome to their very cores, aren’t they???

My second favorite story of the week: (This time I was eavesdropping at my physical therapy session. My regular readers know that I do this. Tsk. Tsk. It’s a bad habit of mine, but you must know, we writers tend to eavesdrop. Facts.)

The young male physical therapist was lamenting to his older female patient about how much his young sons fight and argue. The woman mentioned that her own sons are now in their forties, but when they were young and they were fighting and fussing, she would take two chairs, sit them down and make the boys face each other. She would then say, “Compliment each other, until I say stop!”

Now, the woman admitted that this activity never went the way that she had planned. One boy would start with, “I really like how ugly your hair looks today.” And then the other brother would try to creatively top his brother’s “compliment” with something even better, like, “I really like how you keep proving to me that you are even stupider than I thought you were . . . ” The woman told her PT that the boys got a big hoot and holler out of this activity and they would end up in fits of laughter, and they would be buddies all over again in a matter of minutes. The brothers would bond over clever and witty insults disguised as compliments. (As a mother of three sons, I know that this has to be a true story. Boys get a charge out of insulting each other. I’ve never quite understood it, but it does create a bro-bond like nothing else does.)

When I hear stories like these, I always think to myself, “Why didn’t I think of that???” It almost makes me want to go back to mothering young children. (“Almost” being the key word here.)

My favorite product of the week:

My husband and I went to the grocery store together to pick out a pile of junk food to enjoy while watching the Super Bowl last Sunday. Russell Stover chocolates were “buy one/ get one” at our local Publix. How perfect, his and her boxes of chocolate, even before Valentine’s Day!!! After devouring two boxes of Russell Stover Assorted Milk Chocolate Covered Nuts this week, my husband and I both agreed that we have been way too snobby about Russell Stover candy. I wish that I didn’t love this candy as much as I do. I wish that I was still a chocolate snob who hadn’t eaten 26 pieces of Russell Stover chocolate this week. My husband even noted that the candy was not perfectly molded to the point that it almost looked like it was homemade. Go get you some Russell Stover chocolates today, if there is any left. It is sure to be on sale after Valentines Day.

That’s all from me for today. Remember that favorites come in all different packages and many favorites are absolutely free. List your favorites today. This activity will bring a smile to your face. I promise you. This activity is one of my favorite things to do because it brings the joy of my favorites bubbling up to the surface, all over again.

See you tomorrow! Have a great weekend!!!

Are you passing on love or are you passing on pain? Heal your pain and pass on love.

These Five Statements

The Wise Connector on Twitter posed this question a few hours ago. Most people answered “I need help” but many people admitted that all of the above are difficult things to say. I wonder if you could test your own personal evolution with the idea of reaching the point in your own life, that none of these statements would be hard to say. All of these statements could just roll off your tongue, as easily as “I’m hungry,” or, “I like Netflix.”

For the longest time, I didn’t tell people that I loved them. I just assumed that they knew and honestly, it felt a little squirmy to say it. Then, something clicked in me, probably about ten years ago, that made it much easier and pertinent for me to tell my people that I love them. If I am honest though, it mostly comes out as, “Love you!” For some reason “Love you!” feels light and casual and less vulnerable. Lately, I have been making the conscious effort to add “I” in front of “love you.” I’ve been telling my people, “I love you.” The “I” connects and commits me to the the love which I so deeply feel for my loved ones. So, my wonderful readers, know this: I love you.

The things that I am most proud of in my life, I have had to make a conscious, deliberate decision to do, and to be. Usually these decisions came from wanting to make a change from something that was causing pain in my life. That’s the beauty of pain. Pain is viscerally telling us that we need to take things in a different direction. I wonder if we all have some areas of pain in our own lives, that could be healed by us being able to say, any and all, of the statements written above, with purity of heart and intention and commitment? It could be that simple. It really could.

“To anyone afraid to love, Unconditional love is the greatest of gifts. My dad loved with everything he had. He had so many reasons to be scared to love. So many loved ones kept dropping the body. Instead of being scared, he loved more. I am beyond grateful to receive and to give that love.

Love completely and be kind. Of all the lessons he taught me, these feel the biggest.” – Lara Saget, about her late father, Bob Saget

Are you passing on love or are you passing on pain? Heal your pain and pass on love.

My Box Stays

I’ve been thinking a lot about change lately. This is a year of big changes for us. Our fourth and youngest child could be starting college as early as this summer. Parenting has been my main gig since I was 25 years old. Other than some part-time jobs here or there, raising our four children has been my main focus and purpose in my life. Whether I’m ready for it or not, I am getting mostly retired from my career here, in a few short months. While saying this, I fully understand that we will always be mothers for life, but if we mothers have done our jobs right, then this mothering gig should be nothing more than a side hustle, and a supportive role, once the kiddos graduate from high school. I pray that I’ve done my job right.

Sometimes we actively create the changes in our own lives. We see things in our lives that are not going in the direction that we like, such as personal habits, relationships, careers, spending patterns, etc. and we change our own course, purposefully, and intentionally. More often than this, though, is that change happens around us, and we learn to adapt. We end up having to change for the change. There is no other choice but to adjust and to evolve, or otherwise stay stubbornly frustrated and recalcitrant, sometimes to the point of our own demise.

The other day, I was writing holiday thank you notes. I picked up my small recipe box, with the now quite faded title, “My Bride’s File”. I have had this box for the 27 years I’ve been married, plus the year before that, when I was engaged to be married. This little coated cardboard box has made it through moving to seven different locations, in three different states. The mailing addresses that this little box holds, contains the most important people, to me, in my lifetime. Some are originals. Their card is the original card that states whether or not they were making it to our wedding, and whether or not we wrote “a thank you” for their wedding gift. I may have had to cross out a few addresses to make room for new addresses, but the card itself is an original. Eventually I ran out of “original cards” that came with this box, so I purchased brightly colored notecards in order to make room for the new colorful people who came along, throughout the years, as new and wonderful parts and influences of our family’s life and experiences. The box holds a rainbow.

For the first time, in a long, long time, I consciously contemplated this box. It is faded. It is scratched. It is honestly kind of grimy. (I admit that I took a lemon bacterial wipe and I wiped it down really well.) I don’t consider myself to be a hoarder. Although I can be stubborn and reluctant to new technology, I have adapted throughout the years. (I figured out how to publish this blog all on my own, right?) I realize that most people put their loved one’s mailing addresses in a computer application now. It makes sense. It’s efficient. It doesn’t take up room or waste paper. Addresses are easy to change on computer applications. Most of our Christmas cards that we received this year, were addressed with computer printed stickers which were much neater and readable than my sloppier than ever handwriting. I also realize that it is believed that traditional “snail mail” itself will probably become obsolete in the near future. I can see how this might help “save the Earth.”

Still, my box. My beloved “My Bride’s File” box. The beloved people in their beloved places that they call home, that this box holds for me. The beloved people’s names written in my own handwriting, spanning 27+ years. My box. My beloved “My Bride’s File” Box. I know that change is inevitable. I know that adaption is crucial for survival. Still, my box. My box. My box stays.

Are you passing on love or are you passing on pain? Heal your pain and pass on love.

For the Love of Dogs

I messed around with this picture that my husband sent to the family chat this morning, as best that I could. I am always cognizant of protecting my family’s privacy. My family and my friends are kind and loving enough to indulge my need/inclination/passion/desire to write about our family and my friends and our experiences, on a public forum. My form and style of writing is called “confessional writing.” As a private person myself (believe it or not), I don’t take their kindness and gratuitousness for granted.

The above picture is one of our dogs, Ralphie, giving some morning love to our eldest son. Our eldest is a professional who lives in a different state. Our son was already in college when when we got Ralphie, as a puppy. Our son has lived on his own for many years now. And yet Ralphie unabashedly adores our son. Ralphie has this lavish, overflowing way of showing our son how excited our entire family is to have him home for the holidays, with his constant exuberant outpouring of adoration. Ralphie honestly cherishes all of us, and no one could ever question that fact. My friend recently brought up the old proverb, “Actions speak louder than words.” My other friend made the point that this can be read in a positive sense, too. You can show people how much you love them without ever saying it. Ralphie doesn’t have words, but his actions speak volumes. So many of us love dogs, because dogs have absolutely no shame about their love and loyalty. They don’t judge us. They don’t ask us to change. They don’t shame us. Dogs just love, like no other being on this earth. Dogs love. As they say, “Dog is God spelled backwards.”

dog quote twain

Are you passing on love or are you passing on pain? Heal your pain and pass on love.

If You Are Loved

“D.T. was a better person than he was a player, and he was a Hall of Fame player. That tells you how good of a person he was,” said Peyton Manning. “He treated my kids like they were his own. He was there for every teammate’s charity event.”

I was heartbroken to hear the news that Demaryius Thomas, a former professional football player, mostly known for his time with the Denver Broncos, passed yesterday at the age of 33. It is believed that Thomas died while having a seizure in the shower. This is a fear that any of us who love people with seizure disorders, deal with every single day. My son once had a seizure in the shower. I remember my husband ripping off the locked bathroom door that day, as if he were the Incredible Hulk. Any time anyone tragically dies of circumstances related to seizures, it is like a giant gut punch to me and to my family. It makes the gravity of my son’s epilepsy all the more real and visceral to me, but yet like a moth to a flame, I need to know more. I need to understand what happened in these various stories. I think that I am always trying to understand “the whys” and “the hows”, even though this is usually a lesson in futility. Usually “the whys” about anything that happens, often remain a mystery, and yet it is our human tendency to waste a lot of time on “the whys” about anything. The most repeated answer is usually nothing more than “just because.” Let it be. I have to remind myself, again and again, that I am not in control.

I spent a lot of time yesterday reading the stories about Demaryius Thomas. By all accounts he was a wonderful, stand-up man. When he was 11, Demaryius’ mother and grandmother were incarcerated for drug trafficking and they remained in jail for around twenty years. Demaryius was raised by his aunt and uncle. He became singularly focused on becoming an excellent football player and by many accounts, he ended up being one of the greatest receivers to play the game of football. In 2015, Demaryius wrote this wonderful blog post entitled “For Mama” for The Players’ Tribune. Here is an excerpt:

“No amount of money, no amount of fame, no amount of anything in the world can replace your mother. I realized that holding it all in wasn’t good for me, and I reached out to a preacher who really helped me talk through it all. People think orphans are kids whose parents have died, but 80 percent of orphans in the world have at least one parent who is alive somewhere. There are millions of kids just like me all across the U.S., and hundreds of millions all over the world.

We rely on the kindness and the couches of others to get us through the day. I had multiple high school coaches who looked out for me. Multiple college coaches. Deacons. Pastors. Aunties. Uncles. Friends. If even one of those people had let me slip, would you even know my name? Maybe not.

I talk to a lot of kids who have parents in prison, or who left them when they were young for one reason or another. I know the anger. The pain. The fear. Especially the loneliness. They just want somebody to say, “I care about you.” But that doesn’t happen enough, so they get into trouble.

As men, as athletes especially, we don’t like to talk about love. We talk about brotherhood and all that, but not love. But it’s the most important thing in a child’s life. More important than the kind of school you go to, or what neighborhood you live in, or even if you grow up around drugs and violence. If you are loved, you’ll make it out.“

“If you are loved, you’ll make it out.” This blog post struck me for its poignancy and its truth. I have been mentoring two young ladies for three years now. Neither young lady has her father in the picture. Neither of them are wealthy. One of their mothers is a cleaning lady, and the other one’s mother works as a cashier at Wal-Mart. Still, they are amazing, intelligent, talented young women and from the get-go, I would tell my husband and my family that I don’t worry too much about either of them, because it is obvious to me that they are loved. There is no doubt in my mind, that both young women are loved openly and fiercely by their mothers and by their families, and so, from the first time of meeting both of them, I knew that they would be okay. I am just so happy to add to their brimming pots of love, and I am so grateful that they add to my own pot, by loving me back.

If you are loved, you’ll make it out. It always comes down to love, doesn’t it? That’s the “why”. That’s “the how” about anything in life. Just love. Just be love. If you don’t feel like you are loved, then just start loving. It’ll come back to you tenfold. Giving love, automatically starts this miraculous boomerang phenomenon, so that when you give your love away, before you know it, you’ll get whacked in the head with more love than you know what to do with. Just don’t be stingy with your love. Don’t be conditional with your love. Just start loving. Love yourself. Love your life. Love Life. Love everything in your life, even the stuff that’s hard to love. Embody love, because underneath all of the stories, and all of the projections, and all of the insecurities, and all of the scramblings, and all of the puffery, all of the suffering, that’s all there really is to anything . . . Love. Who? Love. What? Love. Why? Love. Where? Love. How? Love. Just Love.

Rest in Peace, Demaryius Thomas. Rest in Love.

Are you passing on love or are you passing on pain? Heal your pain and pass on love.

Rest Your Wings

Today my eldest son is flying in, to be with us for the week. I’m so excited. He is a successful 25 year-old, living in a big city, doing work that he loves. (I have to stop right here, to state that I accidently typed “doing love that he works”. Freudian slip, perhaps? It got me to thinking that when you are living your passions, that is what you are doing. You are doing love. You are working love.)

Anyway, I have this giddy excitement about seeing my son and I thought about how funny it is, that roles often reverse, in our lives. When our children are little, they are so excited about Mommy and Daddy coming home. Whether coming home from work, or an evening out, or to pick them up at preschool, they are so excited to have Mommy and Daddy home with them. And now, that’s how I now feel about my grown kids. I am so excited to have everyone home for this holiday.

I don’t have too much in common with the real housewife, Kathy Hilton (mother of Paris Hilton and three other adult children), but what we do have in common is that we are both mothers of four children, and we both love the amazing, comforting feeling when all of our children are sleeping under one roof with us. I recently read an interview with Kathy Hilton, and she stated this shared experience, that most of us mothers feel. No matter what our circumstances, living styles, home sizes, etc., we mothers feel our calmest and best when all of our babies are in our nest. Simple nests, gilded nests, every kind of nest feels best when it is filled and feathered with all of our babies.

Inspiration CAN be found EVERYWHERE! | Empty nest quotes, College quotes, Empty nest syndrome

Are you passing on love or are you passing on pain? Heal your pain and pass on love.

It’s All Okay

Dear Beloved Readers,

I’m okay. My family is okay. We are just going through a particularly dark season with my son’s epilepsy. I never mean to scare you, nor to disappoint you.

The hardest thing about writing a daily blog is that it becomes an expected “everyday thing.” And honestly, writing this blog is one of my most favorite parts, of every single one of my days. I usually can’t wait to write one of my blog posts. I write on my vacations. I write on days filled with appointments and responsibilities. I don’t write lies. I don’t tell you every single detail of my life, but I don’t lie to you about the details that I do tell you. What you see, is what you get. I have a hard time doing this blog any other way. It’s just not in my nature to not be “authentic”. Ask anyone who knows me in real life. Sometimes I know that my loved ones wish that I wouldn’t be so honest/candid/blunt/outpouring. I have been told more times than I care to admit, that I live my life to “the beat of my own drummer”. So it is. So I am.

I am in awe of people who write daily columns in which “neither snow nor rain nor heat nor gloom of night stays these couriers from the swift completion of their appointed rounds.” (U.S. Postal Service) But honestly, these columns are typically distanced from the writers’ individual lives. These columns are usually cultural interest stories, or political rants, or horoscopes, or weather predictions. I write about my life. I write about my experience. And you guys are actually interested. I appreciate this so much. My beloved readers, you will never know what you mean to me. I can’t write this feeling into words, as hard as I try.

I am, quite honestly, going through a really, really tough time, trying to keep it together for my family, and for myself. Lately, I have felt really angry with God/Universe/Spirit. But I have not lost my faith. It is always in my toughest hours that I am completely in awe about how kind other people are, to those of us who are hurting. It’s always in my hardest moments, that I deeply understand just how much strength has been imbedded into each and everyone of us. It’s always in my most difficult challenges, that I understand and I appreciate all of my abundant blessings. I have come to realize that a big part of openly and fully loving just about everyone, and everything in this world, and being willing to be completely awestruck by this incredible experience, which we call Life, also includes feeling and experiencing pain more deeply than anyone would ever wish to experience pain. It’s a package deal. But I am carried by Bigger Hands through it all. We all are . . . .

I’m okay. The people whom I love are okay. I’m not going anywhere.

Thank you for being my friends. See you tomorrow.

Are you passing on love or are you passing on pain? Heal your pain and pass on love.

Night Seasons

Are you passing on love or are you passing on pain? Heal your pain and pass on love.

There’s a few good things that are interesting to note, when you are going through one of your “night seasons”, as my aunt calls it. First of all, it’s the numbness. My mom used to call this “God’s anesthesia”. Yesterday, after my son’s seizure, while I had a few periods of crying jags and deep sadness, mostly, I was numb. I felt mostly calm and numb, and this was not caused by any kind of chemical outside of my body. When you go through a trauma, usually your merciful body numbs you right up, so that you can handle whatever you need to do. I think that this is a really nice standard feature of our bodies. I deeply appreciate the initial numbness.

Another thing that your night seasons show you, is that there are so many people who love you and who you can lean on. When you have several people in your life who you can call and/or you can text, and you can feel their deep care and empathy, it means the world. I think that I have friends of every religion praying for us right now, and this feels so great. Yesterday, one of my friends told me that her entire Baptist Church’s prayer warriors were “on it”, and another one of my more “new age” friends told me that she believes that people with epilepsy are getting downloads from God which the rest of us just can’t handle. She told me that my son is probably one of the most enlightened people on Earth. I don’t know if this is true, but all of the prayers and the insights brought me comfort. All of them did. God has many channels. Don’t ever be afraid of saying “the wrong thing” to someone who is hurting. I can always tell true care, over indifferent judgment and arrogance, and that’s never in the words being said. Ignorance being delivered with love, can be cleansed down to just the “love” part. Always err on the side of reaching out. I appreciate all of the love and the prayers from everyone, including my beloved readers of this blog. It sustains me. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.

The final insight about your night seasons, is that you get the reminder that people are mostly kind. Most people don’t want to witness other people’s pain. We had so much kindness bestowed on us yesterday, by perfect strangers, as we often do, when my son has a seizure in public. People want to help. People want to show you that they care. It’s traumatizing to witness a seizure, but people seem to overcome their fears, to act with deep concern and warmth and tenderness. Did I ever mention that EMT people are some of my favorite people on this Earth? They always make my son feel so good, and just like he is one of the “regular guys.” Yesterday, the EMTs got a good laugh with my son, when they reminded him that when my son was first coming out of his seizure, and they asked him who is president, in his hazy confusion, he said, “Lamar Jackson” (who is the quarterback for the Ravens). They all, including my son, got a big giggle out of that one. The EMTs made my son feel like he is a real stud (because he’s a big gym rat, who also attends a prestigious university), just when my son needed it most. These simple, empathic kindnesses are noticed by me, always. Always.

When you are in your night seasons, numbness, your own spirituality (and a big helping of others’ spirituality), and the overall kindness of strangers is what gets you through to the sunshine right around the bend. God has many channels. Yourself, your loved ones, and often perfect strangers, are the passageways, which God uses to get you safely to where the sun rises again. We are in good hands – our own hands, the loving hands of our friends and family, and the kind, empathic hands of strangers, which all come together to form the biggest hands of all. And these Big Hands are firmly and securely holding all of us with Love. This I know.

Heart to Heart

Are you passing on love or are you passing on pain? Heal your pain and pass on love.

Today I am sending you a hug. And it is not a quick, little reminder that I love you, like the cute little “o” attached to the “x”, in a fleeting text, unless that is really what you would prefer. This is the kind of hug that is full of acceptance. This hug is a careful recipe full of “I know”, “I understand”, “It’s okay”, “You are not bad”, “You are not lost”, “I can help hold you while you feel your feelings, and then I keep holding you, as you release your feelings and let them pass on by”, “You are stronger than you know”, “You will survive and you will even thrive,” “You are doing great”, “You are more loveable than you could ever fathom”, “I see you”, “We are in this together”, “This too shall pass”, “Just breathe,” and all of this is held together by an extremely strong substance called Love.

One of the great things about being a 50-year-old woman is that my hugs pack a lot of punch. My hugs have a lot of experience and lessons and perspective, and also a curious mix of powerful strength and yet also gentle humility, built right into them. The recipe for my hugs has been simple-d down to the mostly “tried and true.” Did you ever get hugged by an 80-year-old woman? Your grandmother, perhaps? Let me tell you, those hugs are the real magic elixir. Those hugs will heal what ails you, for weeks and weeks to come.

Hugs bring hearts into extremely close proximity. Hugs help to transfer some of the deepest love and wisdom planted in one heart, into the other heart, all of the while reminding the receiving heart that all that it needs to keep on steadily beating, is already readily available and ever-replenishing, from its deepest depths. Hugs are like gentle, natural defibrillators.

Please pass on my hug today. Someone in your life needs one, no doubt. Don’t be afraid to offer a hug to a loved one, a friend, your dog, yourself. Soak it in. It’s good medicine . . . . I know . . . . I understand . . . . It’s okay . . . . I love you.

So here’s your hug: o

Or if you need more, here’s your hug: oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Pass it on.