Saturday, December 28, 2013

Maniac With a Pen and Paper...

writ*r/ 'raiter/
-noun
1. a peculiar organism capable of transforming caffeine into books. 


Thursday, December 12, 2013

Wild Goose Chase

Google Images
 
 
"The gull sees the farthest who flies highest."
~Richard Bach, Jonathon Livingston Seagull
 
 
My post for the prompt is on my other blog click here to view it.  I was not able to add it on Mr Linky so thought I would just link it the long way.  When I found a quote to add here for the post I realized that our minds are such amazing storage closets.  I read the book Jonathon Livingston Seagull when I was around 10 or 11 years old, and I wrote the poem I posted in my 30's.  I realized that the main line I have in the poem is truly this quote from the book up above.  I had no idea when I wrote it, I was copying it, but had no intentions to be doing so.  I guess my mind tucked that line away...and it came back out in my writing.  My apologies Mr Bach, but please consider it a compliment that your amazing lines have lingered patiently within my mind and heart.


Wednesday, November 20, 2013

Life Is God's Artistic Masterpiece



Winter is an etching, spring a watercolor, summer an oil painting and autumn a mosaic of them all.
~Stanley Horowitz


Thursday, October 31, 2013

Don't Be a "Scaredy Cat"

Courtesy Google Images 
 
 
Hope is much like a cat in the Dark — you only know it's there by the reflection of its eyes — which means there is Light nearby. ~Terri Guillemets




Wishing everyone in "blog-land" a wonderful Halloween.  May you eat too much candy and hear the giggling of children all night.

Wednesday, October 2, 2013

The Autumn Gateway Has Opened

 
Autumn bowed to place a beautiful crown on the Queen of Morning,
 and her velvet robes sway merrily in the chilly breeze.
 ~Terri Guillemets
 
 
 
I welcome autumn with open arms once more!

Friday, September 13, 2013

Feast of the Moon

 
 
 
 
"As far as the Moon is concerned, he is always full." ~Terri Guillemets

Thursday, September 12, 2013

Pickles and Peace on the Side


 


 "Happiness cannot be traveled to, owned, earned, worn or consumed.  Happiness is the spiritual experience of living every minute with love, grace and gratitude."
  ~Denis Waitley


 
I am life partake of me
I am at your service
I am your maitre-de
I am the menu
within your hands
the choice is yours
what will you have?
Today's special is
happiness on rye
with pickles and peace
on the side
or would you rather
have discontent
with a cup of soup?
It's time to order
it's up to you?

Thursday, September 5, 2013

The Force of Feathers and Chains

artwork by Jeanie Tomanek
 
 
 

"God loved the birds and invented trees. Man loved the birds and invented cages."
  ~Jacques Deval
 
 
 
There is a force that feathers know
 that ride together upon a wing in flight
 
and so to do links of a rusty chain
that hold down and lock up tight.
 
There is a might that bricks know
when holding up a sturdy wall
 
and so does the metal ball and crane
that can make the building fall.
 
Sometimes the chains that bind us
are bound by our own hands

and in turn the liberty we so long for
becomes too heavy for us to withstand.

The soul possesses all the muscles
to carry a thousand pounds of woe

yet it also holds the skill and power
to courageously let it go.




Many years ago when I was going through the separation and divorce from my first husband, I left the home I had known for eight years and took off with a packed up car and a discouraged teenager heading to the home of a dear friend I had gone to church with years before.  We stayed under her comforting wing of hospitality and encouragement for about 6 months.  It was a difficult time of change for both me and my son.
  During that time there was a simple story her son shared one day that has always stuck with me.  It holds a profound truth in its simplicity and has crossed my mind many times when I have felt stuck in a situation.  He had a dog that he loved very much that he kept mostly in the back yard.  Whenever he would wash his car, he would bring her out in the front yard and tie her chain to a tree while he scrubbed down his ride.  Eventually, the dog got so used to the routine, that she would simply sit by the tree knowing she was chained to it, and watch him work on the car.  He admitted that as time went by he got complacent and would bring her out front on the chain, but instead of tying her up he would simply place her by the tree with the chain and go about his business.  The dog was so used to being chained to the tree, that she did not exert any force or effort to try to break away to even realize that she was no longer bound with the chain.
  I cannot tell you how many times I have thought about that story and realized how relevant it is to certain situations people face in their lives.  We get so accustomed to the obstacles that we have holding us back, that we settle like roots of a tree and stagnate where we stand.  Assuming there is no way out or means to make a change.  Then like bad fruit we become bitter and angry with the yoke we must bear, never taking the time to comprehend the fact that it is only us that can make a true difference.  Only we can make the choice to walk away, change the circumstances, or simply lay down the burden.



To forgive is to set a prisoner free and discover that the prisoner was you. ~Lewis B. Smedes
 
 
 
 
 
 


Friday, August 30, 2013

The Wings of Uncertainty


"Madness is the result not of uncertainty but of certainty."
~Frederich Nietzsche



Sometimes having some semblance of control of what happens in our lives is like a loosed canary from an open cage, we have it for a moment and once it escapes our hold, it could again light upon our finger or cross our path eventually, but we must face the fact that like a free bird we might never truly capture it within our grasp once more.

Monday, August 26, 2013

Directions Not Included

photo by Steven Kelly
 
 
 

"Men, like nails, lose their usefulness when they lose direction and begin to bend."
  ~Walter Savage Landor


 






Sometimes I am rough like an old highway that is in desperate need of repair
 
and I am stagnant like a puddle where there is no light to bring a glare.
 
At times I am tattered like a worn hem on a dress no one will sew
 
and I am meager like a garden where a careless gardener never goes.
 
At times I am lost like a sparrow that has never built it's nest
 
and I am lonely like a boring hostess that will never have a guest.
 
Sometimes I am empty like a pew where the minister shall not preach
 
and full of dust like antique furniture hidden beneath white sheets.
 
At times my focus is for naught like an unused telescope on a starlit night
 
and I am vacant like a building that it too damaged for someone to buy.
 
 In this life there are no road signs to truly guide the way ahead
 
and purpose can get lost if we drive like our foot is made of led.
 
So slow down and pay attention don't miss the turn you were meant to make
 
for no one else can do it for you, it's a maneuver that only you can make.
 
 

Friday, August 23, 2013

A Hunger That Fills Buckets



photo by Elena Kalis
 
 
 
The ocean of the body crashes against the ocean of the heart. Between them is a barrier they cannot cross. ~Rumi
 
 
 
 
 
 
Lost is the place my heart wanders
nowhere that has an uttered name
it's a choir that sings of loneliness
a hunger that fills buckets like rain
 
it's point of exact location
cannot be found
on any printed map
it's a grain of sand to an ocean
a skyscraper laying on its back
 
 it's penciled in directions
to a permanent destination
that does not yet exist
it's a doorbell to a deaf man
a voice that shall forever have no lips
 
the true logic of the
code and boundaries
is teardrops tied to a locked up gate
it's a room that has no walls
a fork that will never have a plate
 
a broken heart is a manic hunter
searching for candles inside the dark
 it's a cure that has no potion
a wound that will never leave a mark
 
for love is a mighty fortress
 that no human strength can truly lift
it's a present we can only open
if we are willing to give back the gift
 
the heart's logical mathematics
is a lesson no one can truly teach
it's a rainbow to a blind man
a sermon no evangelist can preach
 
no sense can be reasoned out
of the obscurities of the human heart
it's lucidity to an utter madman
it feeds diamonds to a shark
 
for the ways of love and loss
are like a river and cast off stones
they wander drifting like a forlorn sailor
until they finally find a home.
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

Saturday, August 10, 2013

Reaching for Wisdom with Foolish Hands

Drawing Hands, 1948 by M.C. Escher
 
 
 
 
 
"Men are made stronger on realization that the helping hand they need is at the end of their own arm." ~Sidney J. Phillips
 
 
 
I define my own ways at the sketching of my own hand,
drawing my own lines of reason like heritage defines a man.
The view that lies before me is a photo that only I can snap.
I can choose to capture the future or get tangled in the past.
All the expectations I hope to have unfold within my own arm's reach,
are not given by this world but earned painstakingly by only me.
For life is a pilgrimage of perspectives that I alone can observe and utilize
no other soul can grant it, my own hands must reach out and truly try.




 

Thursday, July 25, 2013

Road Map of the Soul

painting by Andrew Wyeth




"The windows of my soul I throw
Wide open to the sun."
~John Greenleaf Whittier, My Psalm



We must truly bear our soul butt naked to the world
 if we want to behold truth's vision upon our path.
Yet we shroud it with robes and veils like Muslims do a girl,
suffocating the bosom of all the answers we ever longed to have.
For a welcomed visitor cannot enter into a fortress locked up tight,
nor can a wealth of knowledge be payd for by bounty of the poor.
Yet we search for fulfillment with eyes that have no sight
trying to attain an answer we keep holding hostage for a cure.
This life is a journey that each soul must ride solo with no map
 and the directions cannot be given at the nearest corner store.
So we chase meaning unknowing to what lies ahead and what has passed
for our quest for purpose is not found beyond the horizon but at soul's core.



Wednesday, June 26, 2013

There is Still Life

To live remains an art which everyone must learn, and which no one can teach. 
 ~Havelock Ellis


There is still life in all the cracked places and areas we cannot see...


and yet there is still wonder spread out before us....
beauty exists there in the quiet light by our side...


and then it spread out before us like a banquet...

....and love has a way of coming back around....

....for through all of the darkness and hunger and hardship
there is still life that we can eat upon for nurishment.


Thursday, April 18, 2013

Breaking News


"Stress should be a powerful driving force, not an obstacle."  ~Bill Phillips



I interrupt this blog to inform you that the stress and day to day grievances of life have knocked me off my usual path and I am taking just a bit of a break for a while.  I promise I will return.  I just need to pull off the road and let the storm pass.  I miss you all very much and when the clouds have moved on I will step back out onto the sunlit highway once more.
Love you all!

Friday, March 22, 2013

Giggles and Snowflakes



"Childhood is the most beautiful of all life's seasons."  ~Author Unknown




Well I guess this week we say farewell to winter and hello to spring....just thought I would post something in celebration of the seasons of life....Happy Spring everyone!

Wednesday, March 13, 2013

A Bigger Fish

Meal Beach, Burrs Island,Shetland by Robin Gosnall




The Mag #159


"Only those who will risk going too far can possibly find out how far one can go."  ~T.S. Eliot




Mankind is the hunter of new horizons, the seeker of something more
pushing to greater lands as does the waves unto the shore.
He moves on ever further as a hardy ship upon the sea
hoping for fulfillment yet longing to be set free.
Sometimes it is a journey beyond the outskirts of the furthest town
and others it is a sojourn inward to reach what's lost and make it found.
Like the surfer hunts the perfect wave and the fisherman a bigger fish
so does the human spirit search for something greater...a purpose within his fists.


Saturday, March 9, 2013

The Sheerest of Gowns

photo by The Fox And The Raven


"You are a beautiful soul hidden by the trench coat of the ego."  ~Mike Dolan



If the flesh of this world
 was as thin as the sheerest of gowns,
 what of the soul would man's eyes see?
Would its essence penetrate through like a light
shining right into our own eyes
or float like air beyond our sight?
Could we see it dance embraced within our skin
or would it fly past our vision with us unaware?
And could one's hands clasp hold of it
and keep it in one place?
If possible would one soul touch another
like a caress of a lover's hand?
These are answers I long to hold
like soft satin within my hands
yet as the sheerest of gowns does
soon descend quietly to the floor undressed
so shall my questions go fallen
upon uncertainties profound fabric of silence.

Friday, February 22, 2013

A Beautiful Place To Stay

Courtesy Mark Kelly

"Where we love is home,
Home that our feet may leave, but not our hearts."
~Oliver Wendell Holmes, Sr., Homesick in Heaven


Linking with "Words Count"...with Mama Zen at Imaginary Gardens



Somewhere in the midst of a magnificent storm
 my heart resides upon the most beautiful bridge.
It so longs to hold a crazy profound love
while the winds of chance make the beams unhinge.
It hungers for a connection like a bridge between two lovely lands.
A place to give homestead out in the wilds of naked openness
 so ecstasy may be guarded within my own hips and another's hands.
Above the raging waters of storms that no man could ever cease
is a place my heart shall tarry in hope's own splendor
 as my yearning for this one love will always increase.



Tuesday, February 19, 2013

The Endowment

Wind of History by Jacek Yerka



"History is a cyclic poem written by Time upon the memories of man". ~Percy Bysshe Shelley



The place my grandmother came from
 is the place my child would be destined to go. 
There is no way I could not have foreseen it,
 but here in my sojourn backward I now know.
All the destruction of one bent affliction
of one searching for a cure of a hollowing ache
can leave a path filled with acres of ruin
 for the seeds of another generation to face.
For the legacy of this disease of suffering
is a gift no one in sanity would ever choose,
yet it is an inheritance granted with no favor
to the descendants of history's unsettling dues.






Tuesday, February 12, 2013

The Might of Just One Kiss

Artword by Joseph Lorusso


"Ancient lovers believed a kiss would literally unite their souls, because the spirit was said to be carried in one's breath."  ~Eve Glicksman


It is not a meager tug this pull that love has upon a woman's soul....
drawing her lips to another's like a golden ember and charring coals....
it holds an utter splendor that is tender yet strong like cobalt steel....
capturing the strength of resistance not to reach out and want to feel....
it's ache lingers in growth that multiplies like big numbers within the heart...
for the magnetic field of a deep kiss is a force no mortal might can pull apart.

Thursday, February 7, 2013

An Anthem of Knowing

Central Library, Manchester, U.K., by Robin Gosnall



"A library is but the soul's burial-ground. It is the land of shadows." ~Henry Ward Beecher




Like etchings carved upon stone
 these words linger amongst the breathing
hidden within covers of leather and dust
an anthem of knowing inhabits the empty spaces
pressing through to the far reaches of the world
everytime there is a turning of the page.








Saturday, February 2, 2013

All That Can Be Saved


Google Images


"Dreams are excursions into the limbo of things, a semi-deliverance from the human prison."  ~Henri Amiel




This is the re-telling of a dream.  Not just any dream, but a dream that spoke to me like no other I have ever had.  You see I am an avid dreamer.  I always dream no matter how short the nap. There is a memory of walking another world while I sleep each and every time I am not awake in this one.  Remembering back to my dreams as a child, they were more often stressful or what one would call a nightmare most of the time.  That still holds true for me today.  Sometimes they are bizarre or inspiring, but the majority of the time they are just one big muddle of calamity.  From the time I was little I always would be trying to escape some kind of danger, and in that intense departure, I would at times be attempting to protect something else, when I was a kid it was the family dog; Pepi, a cantankerous little Chihuahua that my mother probably loved more than my brother and I.  I would scoop him up under my arm, and carry him to safety.  After I was a step mother at the raw age of 19 it would be my young step children.  All three of them would somehow be held within my arms as I found a way to fly with them high up away from danger.  Then there was my first and only child I have given birth to in this world, a little boy that has been rescued in my dreams and out of them more times than I could ever count.  As if I was Hercules, I could carry him and my other children all together within two arms and still escape in flight somewhere away from harm's way.  So it is not unusual that the dream I had on this particular night was about trying to escape.

First let me start by saying that being the child and mother of alcoholism and addiction, rescuing and escaping seem to be a great part of the pattern of my dysfunctional actions in the past trailing into a stumbling mess right up to the present.  That all being said, I will now tell you the dream:

 In my dream I was driving my car down a freeway I had never seen.  In my mind as I drove I remembered letting my son drive it the time before. As I was moving forward, suddenly a cop car was behind me shouting out of a bullhorn "PULL OVER THERE ARE DRUGS IN THAT CAR!"
I desperately tried to find an exit or road to pull over on, but there was none to be found in that strange highway in my dream.  So eventually I made the decision to just keep going.  I drove fast and faster until the police were nowhere in my rear view mirror and I finally ended up at a strange large mansion where there were many other people that were running from the law.  I entered quietly and did not completely speak to anyone there, but somehow understood their plight.  There was a tension there that hung hard like outlaws from old trees in the waist lands of the west.  We all knew what was ultimately coming; we all would have to face a certain prison. 

Like all dreaded scores that must eventually be settled, the time arrived like the thud of thunder after the lightening flash.  The only thing left to do was either hide in the building or escape and flee on foot.  The next thing I remember, I was about to exit the building almost like it was on fire, yet it was not.  Suddenly, I was no longer in my body, but hovering above the outside doorway at the exit of that strange mansion of fools.  What happened next is what I cannot forget.  As I gazed down from the air I actually saw myself as I am now walking out of the building, but I was not alone.  In one hand I had my granddaughter and in the other was another child, but not just any child.  It was me when I was a child holding onto my adult hand.  Staring down at what I like to call a vision, I realized something deep within myself.  What I saw before me was a glimpse of a message to my soul.  My granddaughter represented my future, and myself as a child my past.
I could save neither.  I could only save myself in the here and now.  Not by my own hands nor by running away from trouble, but by standing right where I am and letting God be God and not trying to do His work.
I am not the fixer of all wrongs, nor the saver of all souls, that is the works done by the grace of God.

 I cannot say that this revelation has miraculously changed my actions completely right at this time, but it has been weighing on my heart and mind day by day giving me a glimpse of hope in the miracle of recovery, my compulsion to smooth the rough waters and silence the roars of dysfunction are slowing down.  It is like the recovery quote: "change only happens when your pain of holding on becomes greater than the fear of letting go".  My need to hold everyone and flee for safety is becoming a weary task, I want to avoid, and the layers of denial have been removed piece by piece layer by layer like the peel of an onion or fruit ready to be utilized for its purpose.  Where once I had no sight for my hands and arms were covering my view afraid of the disarray that may stand before me.  Now I simply have my hands gently over my eyes with a slit at the iris like a child watching a scary movie...I am seeing and gaining more courage with time...it is just a slow  process.  I did not get to the place where I stand now all in one night, it happened over a long period of years of broken behavior that built a wall of denial a continent wide.  Walls like that cannot be assembled in a day, nor can they be completely torn down in one either.  Recovering from the past and getting healthier now, is a manner of growth that truly never ends.  It is an ongoing journey that as long as we are in this world never reaches a destination.  The longer I am in recovery the more I understand that it is a brutally honest undertaking that one has to be willing to embrace completely like two lovers truly in love. No holds barred, no stones unturned, everything must be brought out into the light of day raw, naked and real. So here I am awake in the light of day with arms wide open not grasping to save what I cannot, but willing to salvage what I can with the help and grace of God.


God grant me the serenity
to accept the things I cannot change
the courage to change the things I can
and the wisdom to know the difference.
Amen.



Tuesday, January 29, 2013

Broken Records

Charlotte Gainsbourg, AnOther



"Footfalls echo in the memory
Down the passage which we did not take
Towards the door we never opened"
~T.S. Eliot



The song of old regrets plays like nostalgic records inside my broken heart and weary mind.
I carefully place each one on the player and replay each song until I have memorized every line.
Then I dance with each lament like lovers close enough to keep whispering in my ear.
So the breath of one hundred aches and grievances sing softly yet they sing clear,
with the cadence of a blues song it is an elegy and never rings with glory like a hymn.
All the records play only sad songs that speak to my heart a penance for my lost sins,
and I keep them deep in a forlorn place where my heart slips down into sorrows like too much wine,
for the dance of life has awkward steps that fall short of perfection each and every time.




I am generally a positive person and do not dwell on my mistakes and regrets as much as I probably could, but when I finally do it is always a dance of grief inside of my mind....ruminating the undone and should nots like old broken records stuck on a certain line.  Somehow, this photo just pulled that out of the heart of me and, place it upon the page. 


Friday, January 25, 2013

A Certain Warmth




"If the world seems cold to you, kindle fires to warm it." ~Lucy Larcom




Each of us has a longing deep in our soul for the warmth of another's touch.
So we reach out our hands with a quivering want like winter's soldier by the camp fire hoping to quell loneliness's abysmal sting, for life is sometimes cold and the atmosphere around us can be lonely and parched no matter what direction we turn.  Yet, if we truly long to find warmth from outside of ourselves, and hold something more than an arsenal of empty sorrows by our side, then we need to learn how to relinquish our need to grasp it so tightly, and give some of what we hold away.  Like any great loving gift, the reward is always as lovely as the offering.  Karma always comes round full circle no matter how large the sphere.  So reach out to the world with the warmth of kindness.with all that you possess inside, and watch the beauty and warmth of the flickering flame spread like wild fire.



Dear lonely soldier hold on to life's true warm breaths
  with all the guts and grit you could ever hold inside,
 then reach out to the wilderness of sorrows
 a hand willing to open and then open wide.
The warmth of loving kindness can be found
 in a world full of deep hurts and grief.
You must be willing to lick the flame
 if you wish to taste all that is good and sweet.
So trudge further onward with muddy boots
 to the greatest depths of a war torn land,
for this life is a passage through rocky and lonely streets
to stumble down and  in hardship's bounty learn to stand.










Tuesday, January 22, 2013

The Loves of My Life


Love comes into our life so many ways, but it is the little ones that we give birth to in this world and hold utterly within our arms that capture our heart completely...
...and then God sends us more through ways we could not have planned or expected and our lives are even more blessed....
....and each one of these wonderful grown children is the love of my life!



...and then there is the Grandchildren.....well they come along and we fall in love all over again....and they rule our heart and world!

 
 
Who is the love of your life?....and why?





Tuesday, January 8, 2013

Immersion

"God pours life into death and death into life without a drop being spilled." 
~Author Unknown


 

This life is an endless pool of wonders full of lessons at every splash
we must dive in at the deep end with all the guts and strength we have
life cannot be truly lived observing at the water's edge
you have to utterly submerge until every fiber of your being is wet
it is an exploration that carries one deeper as it goes
a baptismal of guidance more profound as the heavier current flows
so immerse yourself in life like a missionary with a mighty cause
for no one else can swim it for you it's your own gain or your own loss.

Monday, January 7, 2013

The Indwelling

image by Daniel Murtagh



"Put your ear down close to your soul and listen hard." ~Anne Sexton



There is a certain beauty that surely dwells within the outermost door
and it speaks to the deaf and mute reaching out to comfort the grieved and poor
the blind detect its presence through its warmth like the laying on of praying hands
still it stands there naked with a purity not seen by the mortal eyes of man
faith is its companion as they lay on sheets that bear hope to a world in need
it is an intimate miracle within the breast of every man's hopes and inherent creed
somewhere between one's doubts and beliefs it comes out into a glimpse of the heart's eye
a beauty beyond compare in grace it heals the broken and restores vision to all the blind.












Thursday, January 3, 2013

The Journey






Life itself is an exile. The way home is not the way back.
-Colin Wilson

Wednesday, January 2, 2013

The Present is the Inheritance of Now

"A day is Eternity's seed, and we are its Gardeners."  ~Erika Harris

If only we could grow time like corn in a field...
for it does seem that time has wings of its own...
and it wrinkles all in its path...

...but what a beautiful ride that it is...

...and at times it can be confusing and seem to spiral out of our grasp...

 then pieces seem to get lost along the way...
 and focus all we may the clock keeps ticking at the same pace...

as time ripples outward to tomorrow from yesterday...

yet, no matter how you look at it...time stops for no one,
so listen to the words of dear Emily who said:


"Forever is composed of nows."  ~Emily Dickinson



Wishing everyone a Happy New Year!



All photos courtesy of Google Images. :-)