BB Webb as BB Webb!

Exploring the Possibilities

If… February 15, 2010

IF….. by Rudyard Kipling

Rudyard Kipling 1865- 1936

IF you can keep your head when all about you
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you,
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,
But make allowance for their doubting too;
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
Or being lied about, don’t deal in lies,
Or being hated, don’t give way to hating,
And yet don’t look too good, nor talk too wise:

If you can dream – and not make dreams your master;
If you can think – and not make thoughts your aim;
If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster
And treat those two impostors just the same;
If you can bear to hear the truth you’ve spoken
Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,
And stoop and build ’em up with worn-out tools:

If you can make one heap of all your winnings
And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings
And never breathe a word about your loss;
If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
To serve your turn long after they are gone,
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
Except the Will which says to them: ‘Hold on!’

If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
‘ Or walk with Kings – nor lose the common touch,
if neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you,
If all men count with you, but none too much;
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds’ worth of distance run,
Yours is the Earth and everything that’s in it,
And – which is more – you’ll be a Man, my son!

The right words come if you but listen. Listen and not be afraid to hear.

BB Webb


Ahhhhhh hahahahhahhahhaaaaa…..dream on said she.

I miss my illusions sometimes. I create such neat fantasies in my mind, rich, alive, in full color, 3D, or some 4D, even better. I’m liking what I know of 4D.

I’m an adept creator, I dream dreams while dreaming. I’m often unsure of which is my ‘reality’ but that’s subjective now, isn’t it?

I can taste them, forget really that they are merely my fabrications.

I’m an artist at heart though, all my creations start with such fantasy.

I’m endeavoring to separate the ones I might have some chance of making happen, and the others,
to allow them to have the life they’re meant to have. Yet another opportunity to let loose my tight hand grip, my attachments.

Oh, but have you ever imagined something so great you can honestly taste, feel, smell the experience, hear the sounds in your head, see it acted out in front of you, be the person in the unfolding drama.

It’s dangerous my mind. It needs discipline. My illusions need a master on board, a cowboy to corral them. Had I been an LSD taker I’d have never come back…I’m sure of that. My own mind is wickedly colorful and fierce enough with these musings of mine.

So this week, it’s with little doubt, (oooh, always a splash of uncertainty, when I’m tired and have had little sleep), time to turn the corner, flip the switch, (wo)man the ship, time to take the wheel and tuuuuuuuuurn the boat around….

it’s time, it’s time, it’s time…..

batton the hatchs, put on my boots, my cowgirl shit kickin boots, the ones made of worn leather covered in dirt,

move out the dead weight, lighten the load, it’s time to take control and still allow things to flow, be open to surprise.

Oh please, a light hearted surprise. I’m deserving.

Get ready, get ready, get ready….

Take no prisoners but rather train them to serve and blossom.

No more compromising, there is work to be done, visions to unfold.

It’s going to be soooo good. Even the less favorable times I’ll warrant. I’ll sit with them differently knowing it’s all key to the unfolding to which I’m due.

My father, someone I loved deeply and who I’d wished to have had more closely in my life while he was alive, that he’d seen me more, or I him, that we’d spent more time together being curious about one another, loving and celebratory as I was with my mom….

he promised me, (after his death mind you), that ‘honey, it won’t be like it was for me, it’s going to be eaaaasy’. He said that as he placed his hand, with my hand, on my heart. That alone was something fine to see. His acknowledgement of heart. Ahhhhh haaahahhahhahhaaaa….

I believe him. And isn’t faith believing even if you don’t feel or see what it is yet which you put faith in.

You just want (that was a Freudian slip), WAIT and see!

Or rather, I’m not waiting for anything, nor should you…but I’m here, in this moment, and the next, just breathing this fine air.

BB Webb

P.S. Happy Valentine Birthday mother of mine, (MMM), Kathryn ‘Kitty’ Royer Vogel. You’d have been 85 years alive on the earth yesterday had you chosen not to fly away when you did. Vogel, bird in German. I understand. Totally. I understand and will welcome the opportunity of a hand of gin rummy with you when it’s time, when it’s time. xo… (DDD).