Life isn’t a project to be completed;
it is an unknowable landscape to be explored.
David Brooks
NY Times Op-Ed Columnist
Sunday
Saturday
Reverse Psychology
You might see.
Don't listen...
You might hear.
Don't think...
You might learn.
Don't make a decision...
You might be wrong.
Don't walk...
You might stumble.
Don't run...
You might fall.
Don't laugh...
You might cry.
Don't live...
You might die.
This statement was engraved on a brass plaque I found in a gift shop years ago. I hung it in the bathroom so it could be contemplated. I enjoyed having it because it's total negativity is so unavoidably obvious and the reverse psychology of the statement worked for me.
Friday
On Becoming a Minimalist
Before I met my son's new girlfriend, he warned me, "Mom, she's a Minimalist. So, don't be trying to give her stuff." I had in mind a definition of Minimalist as art. I dabble in art, so I thought he didn't want me to offer her my art supplies. "Don't worry. I won't."
While getting acquainted I learned a bit of her childhood, her impressive education and her struggles to travel 2,000 miles to the west coast and settle in. As usual, I have an excessive amount of "stuff". So I asked her if she needed some linens. No, she would use her sleeping bag. Then as I made tea and sandwiches I thought she might want some mugs. I was politely told, "No, thank you".
One thing I was painfully aware of was that this girl's poverty kept her dressed shabbily. I had some nice jeans left behind by my growing teen niece in the closet. Could she use them? She politely nodded and I enlisted my son to get them off the high shelf.
That is when he explained her definition of Minimalist. I couldn't grasp the concept that this young woman lived her life with two changes of clothing, slept on the floor in a sleeping bag and had a serving set for one in her little kitchen. And I just never got why she preferred to go barefoot all the time! To save her shoes?
It's been nearly a decade since my introduction to the concept. I've realized in many ways, I have been on a path leading me towards adopting the possibility of Minimalism. Most of my life has been one series of stripping belongings down to low levels, picking up, packing and moving, even as a youngster. As a new bride with a husband in the military, I moved a total of nine times in five years. I've had lots of experience preparing for this time in my life to tone down the overabundance of my "stuff".
And so my journey on becoming a Minimalist begins.
Wish me luck!
While getting acquainted I learned a bit of her childhood, her impressive education and her struggles to travel 2,000 miles to the west coast and settle in. As usual, I have an excessive amount of "stuff". So I asked her if she needed some linens. No, she would use her sleeping bag. Then as I made tea and sandwiches I thought she might want some mugs. I was politely told, "No, thank you".
One thing I was painfully aware of was that this girl's poverty kept her dressed shabbily. I had some nice jeans left behind by my growing teen niece in the closet. Could she use them? She politely nodded and I enlisted my son to get them off the high shelf.
That is when he explained her definition of Minimalist. I couldn't grasp the concept that this young woman lived her life with two changes of clothing, slept on the floor in a sleeping bag and had a serving set for one in her little kitchen. And I just never got why she preferred to go barefoot all the time! To save her shoes?
It's been nearly a decade since my introduction to the concept. I've realized in many ways, I have been on a path leading me towards adopting the possibility of Minimalism. Most of my life has been one series of stripping belongings down to low levels, picking up, packing and moving, even as a youngster. As a new bride with a husband in the military, I moved a total of nine times in five years. I've had lots of experience preparing for this time in my life to tone down the overabundance of my "stuff".
And so my journey on becoming a Minimalist begins.
Wish me luck!
Wednesday
I Could Use a Wish Right Now
My niece turned me on to this song.
(See lyrics below)
Airplanes lyrics
by B.o.b.
Can we pretend that airplanes
In the night sky
Are like shooting stars
I could really use a wish right now (wish right now, wish right now)
Can we pretend that airplanes
In the night sky
Are like shooting stars
I could really use a wish right now (wish right now, wish right now)
Yeah
I could use a dream or a genie or a wish
To go back to a place much simpler than this
Cause after all the partyin' and smashin' and crashin'
And all the glitz and the glam and the fashion
And all the pandemonium and all the madness
There comes a time where you fade to the blackness
And when you're staring at that phone in your lap
And you hoping but them people never call you back
But that's just how the story unfolds
You get another hand soon after you fold
And when your plans unravel
And they sayin' what would you wish for
If you had one chance
So airplane airplane sorry I'm late
I'm on my way so don't close that gate
If I don't make that then I'll switch my flight
And I'll be right back at it by the end of the night
Can we pretend that airplanes
In the night sky
Are like shooting stars
I could really use a wish right now (wish right now, wish right now)
Can we pretend that airplanes
In the night sky
Are like shooting stars
I could really use a wish right now (wish right now, wish right now)
Somebody take me back to the days
Before this was a job, before I got paid
Before it ever mattered what I had in my bank
Yeah back when I was tryin' to get into the subway
And back when I was rappin' for the hell of it
But now a days we rappin' to stay relevant
I'm guessin that if we can make some wishes outta airplanes
Then maybe yo maybe I'll go back to the days
Before the politics that we call the rap game
And back when ain't nobody listened to my mix tape
And back before I tried to cover up my slang
But this is for the Cada, what's up Bobby Ray
So can I get a wish to end the politics
And get back to the music that started this sh-t
So here I stand and then again I say
I'm hopin' we can make some wishes outta airplanes
Can we pretend that airplanes
In the night sky
Are like shooting stars
I could really use a wish right now (wish right now, wish right now)
Can we pretend that airplanes
In the night sky
Are like shooting stars
I could really use a wish right now (wish right now, wish right now)
(See lyrics below)
Airplanes lyrics
by B.o.b.
Can we pretend that airplanes
In the night sky
Are like shooting stars
I could really use a wish right now (wish right now, wish right now)
Can we pretend that airplanes
In the night sky
Are like shooting stars
I could really use a wish right now (wish right now, wish right now)
Yeah
I could use a dream or a genie or a wish
To go back to a place much simpler than this
Cause after all the partyin' and smashin' and crashin'
And all the glitz and the glam and the fashion
And all the pandemonium and all the madness
There comes a time where you fade to the blackness
And when you're staring at that phone in your lap
And you hoping but them people never call you back
But that's just how the story unfolds
You get another hand soon after you fold
And when your plans unravel
And they sayin' what would you wish for
If you had one chance
So airplane airplane sorry I'm late
I'm on my way so don't close that gate
If I don't make that then I'll switch my flight
And I'll be right back at it by the end of the night
Can we pretend that airplanes
In the night sky
Are like shooting stars
I could really use a wish right now (wish right now, wish right now)
Can we pretend that airplanes
In the night sky
Are like shooting stars
I could really use a wish right now (wish right now, wish right now)
Somebody take me back to the days
Before this was a job, before I got paid
Before it ever mattered what I had in my bank
Yeah back when I was tryin' to get into the subway
And back when I was rappin' for the hell of it
But now a days we rappin' to stay relevant
I'm guessin that if we can make some wishes outta airplanes
Then maybe yo maybe I'll go back to the days
Before the politics that we call the rap game
And back when ain't nobody listened to my mix tape
And back before I tried to cover up my slang
But this is for the Cada, what's up Bobby Ray
So can I get a wish to end the politics
And get back to the music that started this sh-t
So here I stand and then again I say
I'm hopin' we can make some wishes outta airplanes
Can we pretend that airplanes
In the night sky
Are like shooting stars
I could really use a wish right now (wish right now, wish right now)
Can we pretend that airplanes
In the night sky
Are like shooting stars
I could really use a wish right now (wish right now, wish right now)
Tuesday
Tell Me
my friend, floating like a feather
traversing the sky and hovering
right here in front of me.
Tell me... what kind of trick is that?
I remember you from that first decade
urging me to pirouette
wearing my favorite blue dress.
Yes, you did. You made me laugh,
comforted me when lonely.
You banished Mr. Alligator
from under my bed.
Tell me... how you
made the stars tell their secrets
and helped the snow maiden find me
that time I fevered.
You don't have to tell me
how you faded from my dreams
like the faeries in the breeze.
I know why you disappeared.
when I'd forgotten your existence.
Tell me... my old friend, why
you are here again.
Is this my second childhood?
Monday
You Want Me...
Lie here?
That’s all?
No phone calls or emails?
No errands or chores?
No work or list of things to do?
Are you sure?
You just want me to
lie here on this blanket?
With that gift of a cool breeze
blowing in from the ocean?
And the sun sneaking through the branches
to dance across my skin?
You just want me to lie here?
And not do anything?
Seriously?
~~~~~~~
Many thanks to Jen Payne for her permission to re-publish her poem here.
You can find Jen at
http://randomactsofwriting.wordpress.com/
and be sure to check out her other sites as listed under her "Links".
Saturday
TRANSMUTATION
one hand gently drops over the other.
Yielding now, the grains fall
like liquid velvet.
Melted beyond measure,
like fur petted softly,
there is no way to capture
the pre-existent creature
rubbing against cosmic filaments
of fine quartz and fossil.
Wherever they rest,
whether bathed in light,
or basted in heat,
or moistened by sea foam,
the ever-changing changlessness
dips and rolls and intermingles,
softening ever so patiently,
through eons of time.
Imperceptibly blessing itself
into finer and finer particles,
is carried away on the air,
lifted into the continuing cycles of nature.
So thoroughly embodied
with the breath of the sky father,
the clouds welcome
the new ones into their folds
and expand with the weight.
New energies,
stronger than before,
ready to come forth.
floating within sunset hues,
passive... waiting for dusk
to overtake the day
and put to sleep the overactive world;
like hidden thoughts,
they give birth to new dreams.
For Genealogy Purposes
1949 February 1
This letter is from Flora Waite’s half sister written to Flora’s daughter, Hazel Dean English
Dear Hazel,
Was so glad to hear from you. My hand is rather shaky, But will try and write you a few lines. You ask me my age. If I live til the 28th of next month I will be 84, so you see I am not young any more. I hope you can come and see me if you make thee trip you spoke about next summer.
My hearing is good, can see pretty good, so I have no reason to complaine. But my hands are pretty crippled and a good many aches and pains all over my body. I am afraid I can’t help out much with thee family names. My Fathers name and of course would be your mother’s father was Levi Waite. Your Mothers mother died when your mother must have been quite young. Your mother had 2 sisters older than she was. I don’t know her mothers name. Then my Father married again. My Grandfathers name was Aidin Waite, But I can’t remember my Grandmother Waite’s name as she died when I was quite young. Your Father & Mother came to visit us quite often when I was a young girl and before I was married I spent several weeks two different times with them. I can’t remember just thee number of kiddies they had then.
I hope to hear from you again and sure hop to see you & your husband this summer. I know we would have a good visit. Clyde & Edith would like to meet you.
Love to you & your family
Aunt Florence Hoyt
Louise Waite Brown (mother’s sister)
Clyde & Edythe
Children of Aunt Florence
Lived in Erie, PA
This letter is from Flora Waite’s half sister written to Flora’s daughter, Hazel Dean English
Dear Hazel,
Was so glad to hear from you. My hand is rather shaky, But will try and write you a few lines. You ask me my age. If I live til the 28th of next month I will be 84, so you see I am not young any more. I hope you can come and see me if you make thee trip you spoke about next summer.
My hearing is good, can see pretty good, so I have no reason to complaine. But my hands are pretty crippled and a good many aches and pains all over my body. I am afraid I can’t help out much with thee family names. My Fathers name and of course would be your mother’s father was Levi Waite. Your Mothers mother died when your mother must have been quite young. Your mother had 2 sisters older than she was. I don’t know her mothers name. Then my Father married again. My Grandfathers name was Aidin Waite, But I can’t remember my Grandmother Waite’s name as she died when I was quite young. Your Father & Mother came to visit us quite often when I was a young girl and before I was married I spent several weeks two different times with them. I can’t remember just thee number of kiddies they had then.
I hope to hear from you again and sure hop to see you & your husband this summer. I know we would have a good visit. Clyde & Edith would like to meet you.
Love to you & your family
Aunt Florence Hoyt
Louise Waite Brown (mother’s sister)
Clyde & Edythe
Children of Aunt Florence
Lived in Erie, PA
Wednesday
AUNTIE ANGST
emptying her heart
into the darkness,
crying out to the trees.
Oh, hear me! Help me!
I am your little child,
a crone before my time.
My youth has been stolen from me
betrayed by the revolutions of the earth
My heart beats only acid through my veins.
like cities choked with carbon dioxide.
I am the desolated forests of the summer fires.
Nothing left but ashes.
Yet, the crone limps away
beneath the moon, tottering...
the pain of over-ripe decline
prematurely stabs
like some ancient soldier
hacking at the enemy
with a heavy sword.
She sits, quietly breathing,
ignoring the pain with resolve.
I smile... talk... laugh with others
and no one knows what is gnawing
like some unseen dragon
crunching my bones.
The physical pain is bearable,
even the searing fire in my veins.
But the pain in my outraged spirit
is wailing and ranting across the galaxies
as it hurls itself further out into the cosmos
searching for peace
and a shred of hope.
~~~~~
Digital art and poem by Elizabeth Munroz
Tuesday
Redwood Forest Family
When they visit...
friends and family,
I take them to the redwoods
up at Big Basin
always driving the winding roads,
the ones with the dips
and curves on the edges.
Everyone is talking,
making up for lost time,
sharing about the kids,
the new house, the loss
of beloved Fluffy,
graduation, weddings...
I drive, smiling and nodding,
loving every minute.
The trees are getting taller
the ravines deeper, curves sharper
I put the windows down,
for fresh air, I say.
But really... it's to invite
the forest, breathing
it's ancient silence,
into the car.
Then, no one talks.
They just look.
I park the car and
the Old Ones
stand over us.
Insignificant humans.
friends and family,
I take them to the redwoods
up at Big Basin
always driving the winding roads,
the ones with the dips
and curves on the edges.
Everyone is talking,
making up for lost time,
sharing about the kids,
the new house, the loss
of beloved Fluffy,
graduation, weddings...
I drive, smiling and nodding,
loving every minute.
the ravines deeper, curves sharper
I put the windows down,
for fresh air, I say.
But really... it's to invite
the forest, breathing
it's ancient silence,
into the car.
Then, no one talks.
They just look.
I park the car and
the Old Ones
stand over us.
Insignificant humans.
Saturday
Poetry Magazines and Journals
2River View
32 Poems
42opus
absent
AGNI
Alaska Quarterly Review
American Poetry Review
Anti-
Backwards City Review
Barn Owl Review
Bat City Review
Big Muddy
Blackbird
Black Warrior Review
BlazeVOX
Blue Mesa Review
Boxcar Poetry Review
Brooklyn Review
Caketrain
Cannibal
The Cincinnati Review
Cimarron Review
Coconut
Colorado Review
Columbia Poetry Review
Conduit
Copper Nickel
Court Green
Crazyhorse
CrossConnect
CutBank
Denver Quarterly
DIAGRAM
Diode
Dislocate
Drunken Boat
The Eleventh Muse
Emergency Almanac
Eucalyptus
Fence
Fourteen Hills
Forklift, Ohio
Free Verse
Fugue
The Georgia Review
The Gettysburg Review
Gulf Coast
Gulf Stream
H_NGM_N
Harpur Palate
Hayden's Ferry Review
Hotel Amerika
horse less review
Indiana Review
The Journal
jubilat
Konundrum Engine
The Laurel Review
Linebreak
LIT
Louisville Review
Mid-American Review
MiPoesias
Mississippi Review
Missouri Review
Narrative Magazine
Nimrod
Ninth Letter
New Orleans Review
The New Yorker
New York Quarterly
/nor
No Tell Motel
Octopus
Oklahoma Review
Open City
Paris Review
Parthenon West Review
past simple
Pilot
The Pinch
Poet Lore
Poetry Midwest
Pool
Portland Review
Post Road
Prairie Schooner
Quarterly West
RATTLE
Redactions
Red Mountain Review
RHINO
Seattle Review
Shampoo
Slope
Smartish Pace
Southern Review
Spinning Jenny
storySouth
Subtropics
Swink
Tarpaulin Sky
Terminus
Third Coast
Threepenny Review
Tin House
Typo
Verse
Washington Square
West Branch
Word For/Word
Thursday
Red Light - Green Light
When I was a young woman I visited my parent's house one summer, my two little girls with me. It was a cottage home, small, but cute. It rested within a beach front community in Youngstown, New York, located at the mouth of the Niagara River where it joins Lake Ontario. The beach sat down below a cliff, which we had access by stairs.
In the daytime, we could look across a great expanse of shimmering water. It felt so peaceful. Sometimes there were sailboats afloat. Occasionally, if we looked out far enough, we could see an occasional freighter ship running through the middle of the lake on it's way out to the St. Lawrence River to the Atlantic Ocean.
On a clear night my girls and I could sit at the edge of the cliff on the top step of the stairs, and view the black velvet water, thousands of stars sprinkled across it like sparkles glued upon a Halloween costume.
Without binoculars, straight across from us, about 40 miles away, we could see the lights of the city of Toronto, Canada. We often sat there lulled by the quietness of the starlight, the lapping of the water upon the shore, and the light breeze rustling the leaves on the huge oak tree in the back yard.
We could have lined a string directly across the lake to the brightly lit traffic signal that reliably changed every few minutes from green to red to yellow to green. It was hypnotic.
Photo of Toronto at Night by Richard Almasi
On a clear night my girls and I could sit at the edge of the cliff on the top step of the stairs, and view the black velvet water, thousands of stars sprinkled across it like sparkles glued upon a Halloween costume.
Without binoculars, straight across from us, about 40 miles away, we could see the lights of the city of Toronto, Canada. We often sat there lulled by the quietness of the starlight, the lapping of the water upon the shore, and the light breeze rustling the leaves on the huge oak tree in the back yard.
We could have lined a string directly across the lake to the brightly lit traffic signal that reliably changed every few minutes from green to red to yellow to green. It was hypnotic.
Photo of Toronto at Night by Richard Almasi
Wednesday
How to buy your favorite books online... cheap!
I had in mind to re-discover an old recipe book I once had. Would it still be in print? I certainly couldn't find it at my local book store, and though they offered to find it for me, I thought I'd rather google it myself. I remembered the title was something like Quick Bread or Fast Breads.
I rely a lot on Amazon to help me find what I'm looking for though I don't always buy from them. Google is too vast when I want to narrow down a title and pay the lowest price. Not only will Amazon have titles of books in print, but also books not in print, even ones not available from their site. How cool is that?
So, I'm at the Amazon website, I select "books" and type in the title, "Quick Breads". The results indicate there are 342 related subjects. I don't bother to check them all. If you look on the left column there are subcategories.
I selected the Cooking, Food and Wine Department, which then breaks down categories further. Two seemed the most logical, Baking (114) or Quick and Easy (77). Of course, I took the easy way out. Process of elimination! I really don't want to spend a lot of time looking for this old book and will be giving it up as a waste of time pretty soon. Only, I'm stuck on the nostalgia of the days and weeks I enjoyed spending time in the kitchen whipping up these fast breads.... and best of all, eating the finished product. So, I keep looking.
Wait a minute! That was the title of the book... "Fast Breads"! A quick search gives me two books that might be the one I want. Since I know I am looking for an older book, the two top selections I can immediately eliminate from my search. The next two have publish dates in the 1980's so this narrows it down. Since there is no picture of the books in question I will not recognize it by sight, and truly a picture may not match up anyways, because publishers often change the cover as each new edition is released.
My next step is to look for a review, which will reveal enough about the book to help me know which one is mine. And there it is. Fast Breads (Crossing Press Specialty Cookbooks.) by Howard Early and Glenda Morris. As it turns out, I did not recognize the authors names.
It is easy to see there are 2 brand new copies available at forty bucks each. Yikes! I wouldn't want to buy a new copy unless I can get it for very little. So I look at the list of used books. I'm not particular. If a book is used and not too dilapidated I don't mind paying a penny for it, plus postage.
So, looking at the list of book sellers offering "Fast Breads" for a penny, I want to buy from what I consider a reliable seller. I must admit I am hesitant to buy off a new seller, someone who has only sold a hundred books in the last two years, or who has less than 90 percent customer satisfaction rate. (You can look up their customer's comments, by the way.) Unless of course, the only one offering the book I want is a couple of new sellers with few sales and questionable ratings. Then, I have to decide how bad I want it. If the seller doesn't come through, or sends a copy that is not "acceptable" quality, then I will need to deal with the ensuing hassle of getting my money back.
But in the case of "Fast Breads", there are several penny books offered by sellers with high ratings and a long term sales history. If I have the opportunity I like to buy from charities. One of my favorite is Better World Books and I will always pay a little more for a book from them if the lesser prices don't give me much confidence.
The four that are offering for one penny are equally reliable in my opinion so I read what they have to say about the quality of their "good" book. Most seem reasonably the same so I order from the first one.
I prefer not to pay extra to have faster service. So, I order with the lowest shipping rate, which is $3.95. Now all I have to do is watch for the mail carrier and warm up the oven.
What are your favorite ways of purchasing books?
~~~~~~~
Note: I also use www.half.com and www.paperbackbookswap.com
So, I'm at the Amazon website, I select "books" and type in the title, "Quick Breads". The results indicate there are 342 related subjects. I don't bother to check them all. If you look on the left column there are subcategories.
I selected the Cooking, Food and Wine Department, which then breaks down categories further. Two seemed the most logical, Baking (114) or Quick and Easy (77). Of course, I took the easy way out. Process of elimination! I really don't want to spend a lot of time looking for this old book and will be giving it up as a waste of time pretty soon. Only, I'm stuck on the nostalgia of the days and weeks I enjoyed spending time in the kitchen whipping up these fast breads.... and best of all, eating the finished product. So, I keep looking.
Wait a minute! That was the title of the book... "Fast Breads"! A quick search gives me two books that might be the one I want. Since I know I am looking for an older book, the two top selections I can immediately eliminate from my search. The next two have publish dates in the 1980's so this narrows it down. Since there is no picture of the books in question I will not recognize it by sight, and truly a picture may not match up anyways, because publishers often change the cover as each new edition is released.
My next step is to look for a review, which will reveal enough about the book to help me know which one is mine. And there it is. Fast Breads (Crossing Press Specialty Cookbooks.) by Howard Early and Glenda Morris. As it turns out, I did not recognize the authors names.
So, looking at the list of book sellers offering "Fast Breads" for a penny, I want to buy from what I consider a reliable seller. I must admit I am hesitant to buy off a new seller, someone who has only sold a hundred books in the last two years, or who has less than 90 percent customer satisfaction rate. (You can look up their customer's comments, by the way.) Unless of course, the only one offering the book I want is a couple of new sellers with few sales and questionable ratings. Then, I have to decide how bad I want it. If the seller doesn't come through, or sends a copy that is not "acceptable" quality, then I will need to deal with the ensuing hassle of getting my money back.
But in the case of "Fast Breads", there are several penny books offered by sellers with high ratings and a long term sales history. If I have the opportunity I like to buy from charities. One of my favorite is Better World Books and I will always pay a little more for a book from them if the lesser prices don't give me much confidence.
The four that are offering for one penny are equally reliable in my opinion so I read what they have to say about the quality of their "good" book. Most seem reasonably the same so I order from the first one.
I prefer not to pay extra to have faster service. So, I order with the lowest shipping rate, which is $3.95. Now all I have to do is watch for the mail carrier and warm up the oven.
What are your favorite ways of purchasing books?
~~~~~~~
Note: I also use www.half.com and www.paperbackbookswap.com
Tuesday
Redemptive Creature of Pain
Deep within lies a slimy, pathetic Monster writhing in pain. We all know him. His own worst enemy, is he, only conscious of misery. He cannot see beyond himself. Pain lingers about him, like so many tangled wires jumbled in static giving off fumes.
Pain is his cousin who never goes away only to be dealt with in twisted anger, self victimized, ostracized. Unreachable, untouchable, unworthy of redemption, he refuses to break through his self-imposed barriers; believes he is helpless
against the invisible foe.
Pain is unacceptable, not a legitimate entity. Pain has planted thorny swords of barbed wire, preventing easy access. Pain wrapped in self loathing cannot move or grow. Tears of self pity, cover him like unshakable slime, his fears convincing him the pain will not desist. Self-flagellation wounds ooze thickly. He tells himself "it's all I am meant to be, just pain"
A most despicable Beast, unworthy and shamed,
is but one who needs tender love and healing nonetheless. Dear Beastie, I come to you, my hand outreached to comfort,
yet, you stab me with your lightning bolts, unwilling as a cowering porcupine. You can only unleash your pain yourself, I see. Did you know I was once like you?
By soothing voice, I sing to you. By soft-coated whispers, I encourage you to breathe, and unwind the chains you have wrapped about yourself. Hiding in the poppies to cover the pain, locked you further away from the truth of you, brought increased harm and alarm and no remembrance of who you are.
And so, I calm my mind, my aching heart, my stress-filled body to accommodate your need for undivided attention, your need for redemption from your false beliefs to embrace what I once thought was the enemy. Without your spiky armor, you appear quite harmless.
With your oozing wounds placated, your tears dried away, you are quite a cuddly creature and purr readily when petted.
~~~~~~~~~~~
Dedicated to the dark within us all.
Pain is his cousin who never goes away only to be dealt with in twisted anger, self victimized, ostracized. Unreachable, untouchable, unworthy of redemption, he refuses to break through his self-imposed barriers; believes he is helpless
against the invisible foe.
Pain is unacceptable, not a legitimate entity. Pain has planted thorny swords of barbed wire, preventing easy access. Pain wrapped in self loathing cannot move or grow. Tears of self pity, cover him like unshakable slime, his fears convincing him the pain will not desist. Self-flagellation wounds ooze thickly. He tells himself "it's all I am meant to be, just pain"
is but one who needs tender love and healing nonetheless. Dear Beastie, I come to you, my hand outreached to comfort,
yet, you stab me with your lightning bolts, unwilling as a cowering porcupine. You can only unleash your pain yourself, I see. Did you know I was once like you?
By soothing voice, I sing to you. By soft-coated whispers, I encourage you to breathe, and unwind the chains you have wrapped about yourself. Hiding in the poppies to cover the pain, locked you further away from the truth of you, brought increased harm and alarm and no remembrance of who you are.
And so, I calm my mind, my aching heart, my stress-filled body to accommodate your need for undivided attention, your need for redemption from your false beliefs to embrace what I once thought was the enemy. Without your spiky armor, you appear quite harmless.
With your oozing wounds placated, your tears dried away, you are quite a cuddly creature and purr readily when petted.
~~~~~~~~~~~
Dedicated to the dark within us all.
Monday
How to Save Your Drowned Cell Phone
Rather than cleaning myself up, or the table or floor where the tea splashed, I grabbed my celly and held it to the nearest piece of fabric, my t-shirt, and immediately began wiping dry. Then I quickly turned the phone upside down and pressed the fabric firmly against the keys, which leaked out a little more fluid. The hard part was next. I tried to open the little door that has the battery in it. I had to really work at it. I couldn't remember the trick to opening it. So, I highly recommend you practice once in a while. Time is of the essence. When I got the battery out, it had very little moisture. Quite minimal, in fact. Still I put the cloth to it. Forgot to mention that during all this I had frantically pulled my t-shirt off to provide this drying service to my celly as I ran to the kitchen.
The next part is the absolute most important. If you don 't have any rice on hand, you will be out of luck, so go out to the store and stock up. Will ya?
With the battery removed and the door to it left off, I put my cell phone into a bowl and covered it completely with dry rice. Now this is not the time to fuss that it is not whole grain. You definitely will have more effective results if you use white rice. Why does this work? Because rice will absorb the rest of the moisture that may be hidden in the crannies of your phone. Just like when you cook rice on the stove, it absorbs the water in order to become soft and fluffy food.
Reminder!!! Rice must be uncooked... dry!Now this is the hard part! You have GOT to leave that phone in the bowl of rice undisturbed for at least 24 hours. Can you do that? If not, then it's time to admit you might have an attachment problem with your phone. If you run out to the phone store and pay a ridiculous price to have a new one immediately then we are talking addiction. It may be time for intervention! Reconsider your priorities!
So, after the allotted time, and then some, I rescued my phone from it's ricey rest, popped the battery back in and smoothly replaced the little door to the battery as if I did this sort of thing every day. Voilà ! I can now use my cell. Text me!
Now, I just gotta figure out how to get that dried tea stain out of the carpet!
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