Scattered formations of moisture
surf their way into the rain.
creating visions of cartoon faces
and textures that wish to remain.
The enemy of wind changes their shape
and alters the look of the sky.
But the clouds dance in those glorious breezes
and embrace the purest way to fly.
Tonight was brilliant. Tonight I came home from work, tuned out all of the outer distractions and got caught up on reading the many blogs I follow and have been missing recently.
Starting a new job always means putting in a few extra hours to learn the ropes – a few extraneous minutes of time to make the new bosses happy that they made the decision to bring you into the fold of their team. But with that additional effort comes the realization that other parts of your life suffer in the wake of your desire to be appreciated and recognized.
Lately, my writing has been staggered, at best, and my reading has resembled something close to non-existent. Life will return to normal when the summer staff come to ease to burden of my multi-tasking, but until then I will steal any moment I can to form thoughts into words and to catch up with others afflicted by the same writing bug that infects my mind.
I appreciate their sentiments, I get lost in their prose and I long for the precious minutes that thoughts form sentences that have meaning. I yearn for those cherished seconds that words escape from my mind without giving the ideas a second thought. Contemplation percolates, idioms spill and paragraphs are created.
(image credit: imedia.brooks.ac.uk)
To blog or not to blog is not the question. The only query that remains is how to create more hours in the day to do all of the things I need to do and save times for the things I truly love to do.
Her birth was nothing short of miraculous and she survived her first eight weeks in a landfill, left for dead. The rescue team that found her nourished her back to health and placed her in the system for adoption. Once I saw those big brown eyes I knew she would be, not only my dog but, my four-legged child and my best friend.
Written for the weekend Trifextra Challenge: On to the prompt. This weekend we’re revisiting an early Trifextra, our second ever. The challenge is to write a complete story in only three sentences. Good luck!
We live in a fast paced world. Everything is digital, messages are sent instantly and we are rushing to get to our next appointment, spin class, second job or meeting with friends because we pack so much activity into a short span of time. Our ever turning world continues to spin and we respond by maintaining our pace of putting one foot in front of the other.
But in our rush to live our lives, we may have overlooked a few important moments that deserve a second glance. We need to take the time to turn around every now and then and make sure we absorb the things that are pushing us in the direction we are going. Sometimes the moments we never give a second thought require a few more minutes of pensive consideration to see the value in that frame of time.
(image credit: Dan Kaiser)
Stop and turn around. The view behind you may be worth that pause for reflection.
This time of year, I work more than the normal forty hour work week and a weekend off is a thing of the past. When life travels at a million miles an hour, I tend to lose track of the days of the week. I spent most of the day this past Wednesday thinking it could possibly have been Friday.
Perhaps it was just wishful thinking but Fridays really mean nothing to me from May to October and thus begins my confusion. I have actually come to thrive on NOT having weekends off in the summer. My mid-week day off is far less chaotic in terms of getting things done in the small tourist town I call home but it does nothing to alleviate the perplexity of knowing the day of the week.
I’m sure I am not alone in the quest to follow the weekly calendar. Life marches on whether we are able to keep pace, whether we fall behind or whether we skip ahead a few days. It’s a sure sign that we need to take each day in stride and not let ourselves drown in the wave we are riding.
Time forces us to grow, to shift, to adapt. Every time we blink our eyes the world shifts beneath our feet and moments evolve into days. It is no great mystery that we lose some along the way but the important part is that we keep our head above water.
Every 24 hour period ends in the word “day” and, although the frantic pace of life inadvertently makes me think I’ve missed one or two, I’m just happy I keep living to see another one.
Dear Mother Nature,
We have all been asked to write a letter to you so we can tell you how your illness is affecting us individually. Starting off with “this is the hardest letter I’ve ever had to write” would be horrifically untrue. This is one of the simplest tasks I have been faced with throughout my 44 years on this planet.
I’m going to be blunt in this letter and not mince words. This is an intervention. From those of us who generally feel at peace with you, we have come to you with these words of utter disgust and contempt. The state of your mental capacity is worrisome and borderline reckless. For the past few days, we have endured the wrath of your mood swings and succumbed to your whimsical attitude in regards to everyone around you. This is not the being we have known you to be and the change in your behavior is more than mildly disconcerting.
Too many times over the past two months we have shamelessly ignored the warning signs, hoping that the initial symptoms would not manifest themselves into a textbook case of narcissism. But our hopes have been crushed in the face of the evolving disease and you no longer seem to have any concern for those in the eye of your storms.
We are pleading with you to get well. We face each day with uncertainty and would like to see you return to your balanced and seasonally charming self. Although the outcome of an intervention is meant to severe ties if an agreement to treatment is not reached, we are not as fortunate to have that ball in our court. We would hope that you hear our pleas and end the 24 degree swings in temperatures during a 24-hour period.
The prescription awaits and only you have the power to take those happy pills and feel well again.
With very kind regards,
Muskoka, Ontario
Tonight, in Mother Nature’s fury, we were graced by another storm exemplified by strong winds, rain, thunder and lightning. Living in a rural area means we are well accustomed to living without power during these tumultuous acts of divine intervention. The plethora of trees bend to the power that nature possesses and ultimately the lines of power created by man are no match for the Goddess of weather. We have been plunged into darkness and are submerged in the sounds of silence.
The world, as we know it, has come to a grinding halt and we are left bathed in the ethereal glow of candlelight. The earth has been baptised by the rain and the creatures of the night have true reign over their territory. Man cannot disturb what it cannot see.
I enjoy these moments. These nights that I am cloaked in darkness allow me the time to truly shut out the world. I have no cause to watch mindless television or surf the web in search of something to idly entertain my brain. I am left with my thoughts, transcribed in dim light by pen to paper, and a sense of relaxation that can only come from having no outward distractions to blame for my laziness. This is true escape.
My world, apart from two small candles, is black. The stillness of the night soothes my soul and the quiet envelops me like a blanket. I pull myself into it, feel the comfort of its solitude and soak in the warmth of its bliss. The creatures that sing their haunting refrains lull me into a trance. Pin-pricks of light dappled the sky as Fire Flies dance on the velvet backdrop of their own Black Light Theatre. The night is beautiful.
(image credit: globeattractions.com)
Sitting in my darkened tomb I know, as all good things do, this moment of bliss will come to an end. Power will be restored and the world will be bathed in harsh light and modern reality. Thankfully the world I live in, so far removed from city life, can remain this dark if I wish to keep the outside world extinguished. Even when the power is restored I can live in my alternate reality by leaving the lights off, enjoying the speckled light show outside my window and embracing the still of the night.
It’s not what you look at that matters, it’s what you see – Thoreau
(image courtesy of dreamstime.com)
The panorama of our lives is directly proportionate to the depth of beauty we allow ourselves to ingest. Our lives are like a Kaleidoscope pattern and the aesthetics of that pattern, although they evolve constantly, still enchant us and give us new perspective in each shape that is created. The colors become richer, deeper in hue, and the beauty is carried over from one frame to the next.
The true beauty that we see does not come from looking at the picture as a whole, but by dissecting the pieces and finding the unique qualities that combine in those fragments to create that spectral portrait. The attraction to the harmonious blend of colors cannot be appreciated without recognizing the million tiny little shards of color that make up the sum of all its parts.
Take the time to really see the beauty in your life. Give yourself the extra time to really absorb what you see and look a little closer at all of the smaller parts that help create that bigger picture. It would be sad to think that some of the muted colors were overlooked because you didn’t take the time to let your eyes focus on those million tiny little things.
Mother Nature saw the blank canvas before her and reached for her brush. She used bare branches to frame the side of her masterpiece and dotted the sky with white to give the sky some depth. But she was unsatisfied with her work.
She let the bristles of her brush absorb some color and added the green of freshly awakened leaves.
Her emotion felt one-dimensional. The canvas felt naked and she changed the structure of her portrait to frame it in a better way. The brush strokes continued and she stepped back to look at her work in progress.
With genuine emotion and grace, she brought romance to the sky. Her brush stokes became more whimsical and the portrait danced and shifted before her.
She made the blue a deeper hue and scattered the sky with feathers of white.
After watching the relationship blossom between clouds and sky she felt she had created a true romance.
It begins innocently. We take on more and more with each passing day and begin burning that candle at both ends, always with the thought in mind that never the twain shall meet. But they do meet, and someone always gets burned.
In today’s economy and struggling markets people take on more burdens to cement themselves to their jobs. Fiscal responsibility tends to equate to physical and emotional exhaustion but we do what we have to do to secure our stability. It has become a dog-eat-dog existence.
Although we may see that candle as everlasting and continuous, we lose a little piece of our sanity with each drip of wax that is dispelled. A layer of our resolve, like the dripping wax, is melted away from us and collectively pooled into a well of fatigue. The moments of freedom we so carelessly took for granted are a thing of the past and the work day increases in its longevity. As the winds of our reality fan the flames, the candle burns faster at both ends leaving us with more of a sense of panic and less candle to burn. The days seem longer, the nights seem shorter and we strive to hold fastidiously to our workaday reality.
It is our individual responsibility to snuff that secondary flame – to only allow ourselves one wick with which to burn our energy. If we allow others to dictate how much of the candle we burn at one time we may as well cast ourselves into the inferno and spontaneously combust.
The purpose of a candle is to burn for long periods of time, from one end only, and cast a glow of light that is warm and comforting. Burning that candle from both ends decreases the amount of enjoyment that candle is meant to purvey and exponentially diminishes the enjoyment that is elicited from that one single flame.
Strike your match carefully. Predestine how much of that candle you are willing to ignite and at which pace you choose it to soften and dissipate. If you light it sparingly, it will last much longer and the enjoyment of that flame will last that much longer.
polysyllabic profundities 