Where ever you are, Be Kind

“Wherever you are,” said the queen of the sunflowers, “you can make it a beautiful day in the neighborhood.”

She softly placed the tip of her leaf beneath my chin as though to lift my head up and said, “So be kind, be kind, be kind, and everything will take care of itself because this little blue pearl is just one big little neighborhood.”

“Why,” I asked, “did your majesty say ‘be kind’ thrice?” “Little human,” she kindly replied, “because this little blue pearl is turning parched. It could use an ocean of kindness.”

She gently embraced me in her beautiful broad golden leaves and whispered into my ear, “Never underestimate a drop of kindness,” and vanished into the autumn air in a trail of whispers, “You believe you are just one, but you are an army of billions of Ones.”

Her whispers turned into a gentle breeze from all corners of the blue pearl and beyond — from her deepest core to her beautiful delicate blue skin, throughout this and other solar systems, this and other galaxies, and Universes — harmoniously singing, “Be kind, be kind, be kind.”

“We simply, in our small actions, create the movement of the waves of Transformation, and that is how our simple smile generates new realities.” — Matías de Stefano

In a world where you can be anything, be kind.

How The Legend Of The Pumpkin Man Was Born

Here is a bedtime story for a child to fall asleep to.

Have you heard of the legend of the pumpkin man of Kennett Square?

On a full moon night in the cornfields on the outskirts of Kennett Square, Mister Scarecrow has been pondering on a new look. “I shall try something different”, he thought to himself. He climbed down his stake and replaced his scarecrow head with a pumpkin from the pumpkin patch. “I shall be known as the friendly pumpkin man!” he said quite excitedly to no one.

As soon as he screwed his pumpkin head in place, he heard some boys walking along the cornfield. The eager pumpkin man came out of the field and offered to them a little pumpkin treat. Poor pumpkin man, he only wanted to make a friendship offering to them, but their blood curdling shrill shrieks pierced the cold autumn air as they fled, and they could be heard many miles away. Some have said as far away as Philadelphia.

So the legend of the terror of the pumpkin man was born — how the boys bravely fought off the vicious pumpkin man who attacked them that cold autumn night. Since that frightfully misunderstood encounter, Kennett Square has never been the same. Poor pumpkin man, he roams the cornfields under the full moon in the cold autumn night longing to find someone to accept his friendship offering.

Sweet dreams, and don’t let the bedbugs bite.

Mister Pumpkin’s Friendship Offering (self portrait). Oil on panel, 8 by 6 inches.