Author: Jeff Shapiro

Can you keep a secret?
I know where there is a wishing tree…
Wishes are added every morning…
And taken before the sun goes down.

Wishes float all around this magic tree…
Like notes with the maestro in the center….
Conducting the smooth rhythm…
Steering the orchestra away from thunks and clangs…

Once there, it is not hard to make a wish…
Simply adjust your paws…
Light a candle of thanksgiving…
And place it on a branch.

But you will need to believe that wishes are real…
Recognize their sweet smell…
Let them take you to unusual places…
Be prepared for a dip and a swing.

Okay, here’s the secret…

The wishing tree lies in the empty in-between spaces…
The ones within a conversation, a stroll, or an act of love…
It is fear and doubt that make it difficult to see…
But it is always there, all you have to do is, stop, savor the moment, and then make a wish.

I love you,

Annie

With each sunrise life begins anew…
Yesterday is forever gone…
The shapes, the textures, even we are different…
Let’s step out together into this brand-new world.

The breeze is like one that we have never felt before…
Carrying a language that everyone understands…
You have known this language since you were brought into this world…
It is the language of kindness.

From black to yellow to blue…
Light flickering here and there…
Casting dancing shadows…
All creatures giving thoughtful glances back up to the sky.

Of course, some have a different perspective.

Each day is a wrestle with worry…
Like an endless pile of laundry…
Or a forever desert…
All while life is new, alive, calling!

Isn’t it time to let the sunrise light your torch?
To shift your weight to the other paw?
Shhh! Listen to the songs of the earth as it is born once again…
Don’t worry, you will learn the words quite quickly.

I love you,

Annie

I’ve taken up a new hobby…
Stringing beads…
Special beads…
Fancy beads…
Beads that will change the world.

True holiness is hidden in the simplest tasks…
Through distant arches of lights…
Past all those forgotten bridges…
Into the absurd, the abstract, the ridiculous.

My beads will be intricate threads of thankfulness…
Extending from root tip to root tip…
Able to speak of things hidden in the stars…
Reminding the wearer to dance wherever you can.

They will have magical powers…
With a thirst for everything new…
A million points of light…
Never too dark, never too bright.

My beads will bring you back to places you have been…
Stuff that you have done…
Nothing artificial…
Only the beautiful reflection of you.

I love you,

Annie

Did you know…

Every blessing ignored disappears…
Your dreams are your heart telling you what you are capable of…
Inside you is the ability to know fools’ gold from real…
The mold that has made you has been forever broken.

Maybe you can’t see this…
Don’t feel alone, worry makes you blind…
But I can…
Each day I repeat these four simple truths…
And shazam! I become a different pup.

Let’s start from the top…
You have been blessed in so many ways…
Can you imagine how your heart feels…
When you replace these gifts with worry.

Who, better than you, to know your dreams and aspirations…
You’re not dead yet, so go chase that ball…
My butler throws it in many different directions…
I decide the place I want to roll.

Fool’s gold or real?
It’s a simple test…
Does it feel right or make you uneasy…
Real gold is always the most truthful path.

Yep, your mold has been broken…
There will never be another you…
And your love is meant to be given to this world…
You are one of a kind, you are special, you are powerful!

I love you,

Annie

My Grandma’s kitchen had a different kind of warmth…
Oh, the conversations and prayers we shared there…
That nicked table where we had our meals…
Discovering that everyday is not the same.

Grandma taught me that there are no perfect lines and angles…
Only the irregular shapes of potatoes and broccoli and apple pie…
All birthed from her stove so bright and intense…
Having such enormous might.

Here, I found that beyond my dreams are other dreams…
Playing a game of hide and seek…
All created from one divine spark…
Like rare air flowing from this holy fire.

Those who we loved lived in that kitchen…
Whether in person or in memory…
All with a whispered reverence…
Arriving, often out of nowhere.

I often think about this…
It is here where my most sacred memories lie…
But my thoughts can never give my Grandma’s kitchen justice…
You just had to be there.

I love you,

Annie

There are no dings or dents, only dirt…
It is nothing but a few painful memories…
You, like crystal, are a delicate thing…
So much more than a pile of stone.

The past can be so cold it is difficult to walk…
Not fit into this world or this world fit into you…
I have an answer to a painful memory…
Stop the slave talk…
And understand, you will never be able to pick off all the specs of dirt.

Let me tell you my own story…
I discovered that nearly everyone is hurting more than me…
When I feel miserable, I know it is time to be charitable to the poor…
And poof, my own pain disappears.

I begin by simply wandering…
Stop my thinking, wait for the universe to arrive…
When the student is ready, the teacher always appears…
Like a lighthouse finding a lost ship at sea.

To me, you feel familiar and comfortable…
Let’s join hands, we are on the same road…
There are no dings or dents, only dirt…
And it’s not all that bad to be a mucky pup!

I love you,

Annie

The camera is always moving…
Processing every situation…
Good, better, never best…
The pictures showing everyone walking in the same direction.

Each shot showing only first impressions…
Through the lens everything looks square…
As if all the world has gone silent…
And there is only one principal character.

Yet, wisdom has placed her treasure in each of these souls…
Such a formidable thought!
The whites and blues always the most prominent…
Each person responsible for their own construction.

And then you open your eyes…
Just like that you are flying!
Up, up, up, you go!
The pictures become so different.

So, time for a new camera…
To get rid of your grippy feet…
To lift yourself over the heavy iron gates…
And become one with the photographer who knows you so well.

I love you,

Annie

My hair is entwined with my angels…
Like it has always been…
Hers, cascading down like a waterfall…
Mine blonde and curly.

Her voice like the least puff of wind…
Or a playful ocean wave…
She asks, are you ready to learn a few songs?
It is here where it all begins.

She continues…

You will need to set aside your guarded ways…
Put away your countless inventions…
I will show you why you are here…
And how it is not too late to change everything.

You can be…

Like a hatchling breaking out of its shell…
A bush bursting with flowers…
It is all inside you…
Everything you already know…
All the lessons you have previously learned.

She puts her arms around me…

It is all under your soft small feet…
Your taproots reach all the way to rock…
I smile seeing her approving eyes…
Knowing she is here for me for forever and always.

I love you,

Annie

I always wanted to play the trombone…
Music being a barrier from the jagged edges of this world…
I would play softly like cascading willows…
And float away on a sea breeze.

It is a language that doesn’t depend on words…
Like multi-colored frost…
There are no pointy elbows swinging around…
A miracle that cuts through any crowd.

I would play because that is what I want to do…
The instrument, so hard without so soft within…
The high notes like fashioning a house…
The lows like the stone foundation glistening like pearls.

I would ask you to sing or at least hum along…
Absorb the positive energy…
Careful, you must ride it like a surfer rides a wave…
And follow it all the way to shore.

I believe music is a doorway to the heavens…
It is many layers thick…
You may ask, how do I know this…
I spend most of my day learning the language without words.

I love you,

Annie

Do you think I’m too fat?
How about too skinny?
A natural born killer?
Or nervous, like a nervous cow (I hate cows!)

Maybe you think I am rich and powerful…
Or like a child…
I want to be like a child…
Because a child will pick up anything…
And is always in search of hidden treasure.

I may seem different than you, but we are mostly the same (except for the tail!)
The difference is my eyes are always wide open…
So, nothing in my world is strange, only new…
Everything, spinning and glistening.

That is why I am always learning something new…
My motto; “Why regret not learning when you can start learning today…”
I raise my nose to the wind and embrace the different…
And find what the universe has for me today.

I extend my paw to you…
It makes no difference if we are both a little scraped and dented…
We have so much to share and learn from one another…
How do you take your tea?

I love you,

Annie