We all have a story. Whether you write it for yourself or allow it to be written for you is a choice we all must make.
Standing on the rim of the Grand Canyon is like standing on the edge of the world and seeing the story of its creation unfold before your eyes.
"As I listened to the music the archaeologist/musicians were creating and saw the smiles on their faces as they were strumming and singing the night away, I had an overwhelming desire to pick up a guitar and join in."
Though a stranger, I felt your pain
It weighed heavily upon my heart
Both exhausted and exhilarated from the steep climb I sat near the peak of Mount Shasta with my best friend Loren looking out over the world. The snow we had been traversing was frozen over in a sheet of ice, making each step a struggle, stomping our crampons into it to keep from sliding back … Continue reading Beyond the Mountain
Her room was filled with the things from childhood. The little girly things a teenager holds onto as she transitions into becoming a young woman.
Then there is the perfectly styled, wild and unkempt look. A bit of an oxymoron I realize, but there it is. This seems to be the style for those who want to look like a wild man of the wood but not actually be one.
I am incredibly humbled by these kind words and so happy that you have found Billbo’s Blog and chose to join the journey. There are so many in the world, like yourself, that would enjoy a little laughter or perhaps finds some comfort and insight. I need you help to reach them. Please share this … Continue reading What People are Saying About Billbo’s Blog
Come Join the Journey!
The fading sun softly outlined her form with a delicate glow. A solitary tear emerged in the corner of her eye.
Anger is like a hot coal that you throw at the object of your anger. You may or may not hit the object, but you will always get burned.
It is all she has ever wanted and now in this moment she has the opportunity to prove herself.
You simply cannot fully experience the Yamuna River flowing lazily past the Taj Mahal at sunset unless you are standing upon the white marble yourself.
Perhaps the Tuatha de Danann with their god-like powers once roamed these hills and maybe still do.
As his armies feasted on the horror that is war, conquering all that would stand in his way, he began to hear a faint and distant cry within...