Category Archives: honesty

A few drops in the bucket

14 Comments

Even if you don’t have one of your own, you’ve undoubtedly heard of “The Bucket List” concept.  It’s a list of things you want to accomplish before you leave this world.

Some people, like myself, err on the side of caution and have seemingly mundane ideas like writing a novel or meeting The Tenors (which I was able to cross off my list in December of 2013).  A friend of mine has a few crazier ideas and one of them is to get shot.  She is not seeking a fatal death-blow but she wants to be grazed by a bullet to understand the sensation.  Crazy?  Perhaps.  But regardless of the lunacy of its contents, a Bucket List is a worthwhile thing to have.

Life is short and thinking of the things you want to accomplish or participate in is a very grounding way of keeping motivated.  And it doesn’t have to be something you come up with when faced with the possibility of the end drawing near.  A Bucket List can be created to keep you stimulated to just live your life to the fullest.

Pure-Bliss-Yoga-bucket_list

(image credit: pureblissyoga.com)

That bucket can be a driving force in helping you succeed in the areas that you would never have previously challenged yourself.  You could decide to learn yoga, take a new course to expand your education, sleep under the stars or jump out of a perfectly good airplane. Your Bucket List is your own.  Nobody can tell you what to wish for and they certainly have no authority to coach you on how to achieve those goals.  Some may want to change the world and others just want to alter their own world.  There is no right or wrong.  You make the list, you create the rules, and it is entirely up to you to follow through and slowly cross the items off your list and fulfill the journey you created for yourself.

Whether that list is designed because the end of your life is looming closely or because you simply want to set some goals in your life…..see it through.  That list was created from a desire deep within yourself to see an idea to its conclusion. Just remember to keep filling that bucket and don’t ever let the passion that fueled the driving engine behind those bucket contents ever run out.

What’s in your bucket?

There’s a moose loose in the hoose

14 Comments

‘In the wee small hours of morning, when the whole wide world is fast asleep’ ~ David Mann

I, among many of the population on earth, need a solid night’s sleep – uninterrupted, pleasant, dream-filled, cozy under the covers sleep.  Until recently I had absolutely no trouble achieving this state of bliss, however an unsettling combination of extended winter weather and unwanted house guests has altered my sleep patterns.  No longer do I crawl under my duvet and let the weariness of the day pull down the blankets of my eyelids.  Gone are the nights that the vivid colors of my dreams paint my continually sleep filled nights.

Like an imperceptible alarm clock, disease-infested rodents descend into my walls at approximately 2:30 every morning.   As I lay in what should be my haven, I am disturbed by sounds that are amplified enough to make me think I have underestimated the size of these cute, furry little creatures.  With an imagination as over-active as mine I picture a sentinel of unearthly mutations methodically surrounding their acquired target. Their tyrannical approach into my home has left me reaching into my arsenal for a full on war.

Akin to a good soldier, I have adapted to my situation with weapons that I have on hand.  There is no delay when you are under attack from a known enemy who can wreak absolute havoc in an otherwise stable environment.  My walls are my fortress.  My house is my oasis.  The gnawing sounds coming from inside my home in those wee hours are my motivation.  These adorable looking vermin have threatened to devastate the structure and integrity of my humble abode and I am a woman scorned.

mouse

 

(image credit: en.wikipedia.org)

Human nature dictates that we all yearn most for what we cannot have.  I  retain my defensive stance in this fight and vow to achieve what I yearn for – that unadulterated, all-encompassing feeling of being swallowed into a vast sea of dreams.  As I imagine just a small rind of an orange sun on the horizon of my sleep, I will be awaiting the moment that the canvas of my night will be splashed in a new landscape of color. Au revoir, rodents!!

Me, myself and I

27 Comments

“If you’re lonely when you’re alone, you’re in bad company.”
― Jean-Paul Sartre

~~~

It is a terrible thing to have to admit I still have the winter blahs in April.  The ground is still laden with mud-speckled snow, the mercury is still dipping below zero at night and, although the sun is trying to warm the earth, winter still has its death grip on spring.

Perhaps the overwhelming winter weather and extended season has been the cause for my hermit-like habits over the last five months.  Or perhaps with each calendar year that passes I am less excited about dressing in less than comfortable clothing and venturing out to brave the elements.  Regardless of the reason, the majority of my evenings are spent at home enjoying my own company.  Callaway is always there with me, but her conversation skills are still somewhat lacking.

hermit

(image credit: alpinequest.com)

I am a big fan of spending time at home.  I have no trouble passing the endless hours of those cold winter nights because I am comfortable enough in my own skin to enjoy the time alone.  My neighbors are close enough if I ever need help, but at enough of a distance that my sanctuary can still remain tranquil and remote.

In the summer, when the resort is in full swing and there are over 100 people on the property at any given time, it is comforting to know that I will find that same solace within my four walls or ensconced in my gazebo when I go home.  The many leaves that grow create a canopy of shelter so I feel even more hidden than before.  It is true bliss.

Spending that time alone helps me refuel and prepare for the barrage of stimulation I encounter when I leave the sanctity of my shelter.  Sometimes solitude, for me, can be the best companion.

How do you feel about spending time alone?

 

 

 

Woke Up This Morning – 100-Word Song

6 Comments

Butterflyinthesky1

Woke up this morning,

and, as always, you were my waking thought.

The tears came before I even knew they were coming

and I silently wept.

I’ve missed you every day since you left.

I reach for the phone to call,

but I know you won’t be there to answer.

Woke up this morning,

with a need to hear your voice.

You must have heard my call,

your laughter now echoes in the back of my mind.

The dull ache in my heart is slowly waning,

replaced by the joy in my memories of you.

Tears cleanse the open wound.

~~

Written for the 100-Word Song challenge at My Blog Can Beat Up Your Blog.  The song choice is Woke up This Morning by Alabama 3.  I was missing my mom a lot this morning so I apologize for the heaviness in this one.

Is there a right way to write?

10 Comments

When I began to really delve into writing poetry and short stories I was more comfortable writing in long hand.  It freed my mind to truly compose the ideas, the rhymes and the drama, and felt much more like a natural flow from brain to hand to ink to paper.  The archaic version of computers we had at that point did not lend much ease in the writing experience since it was a behemoth that was no more moveable than my car.

In the bygone days of my youth (I make myself sound 100 years old), when I began to read voraciously, I would always have a pen and paper handy to write down any words I found challenging and words that I was excited to use in my writing.  It went on for pages.  I still have those pages and, although they are now collecting dust in a storage bin, they still remind me of my hunger for words.  My hunger now is much more easily satiated.  With the ease of Google, on-line dictionaries and thesauruses I no longer have to put the word to paper and look it up in a bound, hard-cover dictionary.  I even have a dictionary in my Kindle should the need arise to define a foreign word.

Nowadays, I’m sure a chimpanzee would have much more success with that foreign writing object we call a pen.  I used to have beautiful handwriting and now the things that come out of the pen slightly resemble a modified version of shorthand.  (It would be far more beneficial for me if it were shorthand since I currently have no clue what I’ve written!)

shorthand

(photo courtesy of commons.wikimedia.org)

With the ease of the digital age I use a voice recorder if I am overcome with inspiration.  Random thoughts that used to be scribbled on scraps of paper are now stored in my phone for easy access.  My calendar is on my iPhone and so is my shopping list.  Even with my creative stream, that long steady flow of blue ink has been replaced by the gentle tapping of the keyboard on my laptop.  I have finally been able to train my mind to tune out the incessant clicking and it no longer derails my train of thought.

What do you do?  Do you still give the ink a chance or are you a slave to your keyboard?

Owls and butterflies and long-winded sighs

16 Comments

There are signs everywhere.  I’m not talking about the three-dimensional signs that guide us to our destination or give us information, but the signs that are sent from spirits to let us know they are still with us to help us on our journey of healing.

My friend Sandra passed away in May of 2003, very suddenly and far too young.  Her knowledge of my likes and dislikes was astounding and each time she would learn a nugget of information about me it was stored in her ever-expanding cranium.  She knew when I needed comfort and when it was okay to push my buttons.  Since the day I received the horrible news of her untimely passing, every so often I hear a strain or two of a particular song, faintly at first but I know the tune and where it came from as the notes are processed in my brain.  I have been in the grocery store or at a restaurant when the unmistakable bars of “The Girl From Ipanema” hover around my head and pillage my ears.  She knew how much I loathed that song and that is her way of letting me know she is still with me.  I release a loud sigh when I hear it to let her know she got me again and I can vaguely hear the sound of her infectious laugh.

My father passed away in 2006.  He and I both loved owls.  My Grade 10 art project was oil on canvas and I chose to paint an owl for him as his Christmas present.  I now have that painting hanging in my kitchen.  Over last few years I have had a Barred Owl perch itself in the tree that hovers over my deck.  It will sit on the same branch for hours at a time and seems quite content to be there and do nothing else.  I have had some lengthy conversations with my dad while that owl holds its spot and it seems to listen to every word I say.

Last summer my mother and my sister-in-law released butterflies in my dad’s memory.  It was something my mom had always wanted to do.  Since my mom’s passing on March 7th of this year the butterfly seems to be emerging from its cocoon in many aspects of my life.  Almost every sympathy card I have received is adorned with a butterfly.  The card attached to an arrangement of flowers I received has a butterfly in the top left corner.  The song “Dog and Butterfly” by Heart came to mind today and I haven’t heard that song in decades.  And today, while typing the phrase “there are signs everywhere” into Google, one website grabbed my attention over every other one listed and I clicked on the link.  The picture below was the one featured on the site.

Butterflyinthesky1

Now,  more than ever, I know the spirits of our loved ones stay with us.  It gives me great comfort to know my mom is sending me the message that she is okay on the other side.  It doesn’t diminish the pain of losing her presence from my every day but it does help to know that she is able to talk to me in a way we both understand.  And when summer finally arrives, clawing its way to the surface through the snow and frost-laden ground, I will be waiting for those butterflies to emerge from their cocoons and remind me that life, even after a beautiful creature disappears, does morph into something just as beautiful and ethereal.

 

Another world – Trifecta Challenge

25 Comments

spiritguide

I cannot remember specific days but I do remember certain moments.  The moments you and I shared that were filled with love.  Moments that will have to satisfy me until we meet again.

~~

Written about the recent loss of my mom in response to this week’s Trifecta Challenge:

Without further ado. . .
SATISFY  (transitive verb) 1a : to carry out the terms of (as a contract) : discharge   b : to meet a financial obligation to

2: to make reparation to (an injured party) : indemnify

3a : to make happy : please   b : to gratify to the full : appease 4a : convince   b : to put an end to (doubt or uncertainty) : dispel 5a : to conform to (as specifications) : be adequate to (an end in view)

Remember:
• Your response must be exactly 33 words.
• You must use the 3rd definition of the given word in your post.

Friends around the globe

8 Comments

We, as writers, spend countless minutes and hours at our keyboards, grinding stories until they are made into the finest powder we can create, to put stories to a page that we can only hope many eyes will see.  We toil with adjectives and adverbs, we argue with grammar and punctuation and we stress ourselves with synonyms.  We fret over story lines and we mold characters into strange and exciting people.

Each time that star or conversation bubble appears we anxiously look to see who has taken the time to like our work and comment on the words we have strung together.  With those comments we create relationships that span cities, countries, even continents and forge a bond that may always remain digital.  We share in each others joys and triumphs and we offer words of encouragement through the tough times.  We become friends.

I have come to realize the irrefutable truth in this phenomenon over the last week.  So many of you have reached out to offer condolences and words of sympathy and it has meant more to me than my words can express.  I truly appreciate the depth of the relationships we have created in this literary and photographic world and thank you for each virtual hug, each word of encouragement and each expression of love.  You are a tremendously special group of friends and I thank you.

Sometimes I forget to breathe

27 Comments

forgetmenot

For those who saw my blog post on Tuesday, you’ll know that my mom passed away last Friday.

My mom was such a big part of my day-to-day life.  I find myself staring into space thinking about the precious time I had her in my life and those moments ahead that will feel so empty without her.  In those moments of recollection and sadness, my whole world seems to stop and sometimes I forget to breathe.  A large gasp of air pulls me from my reverie and I spend a few minutes just concentrating on inhaling and exhaling.  My world has changed.

I have received some lovely messages from family, friends in my physical world and friends in my writing world that have been very comforting.  Some of those messages offer hope from the perspective from those who have experienced the same loss and some messages offer condolences filled with grief for the thought of losing a mom.

I don’t think I will ever stop crying.   The moments that tears overwhelm me may become fewer and further in between, but the tears will never become non-existent.  And I’m sure as time moves forward I will just have to keep telling myself – one breath at a time, one day at a time.

Forget Me Not

43 Comments

After my first breath I was placed in her loving arms and it was there I would always find the most comfort.  She was the first one to hold my tiny hand in hers and the first one to calm me as I cried.  She gave me life and now the only thing I can do is celebrate her life.  My mom passed away on March 7th, 2014.  I thought words would flood my brain to help release the pain of losing her but none would come until now.

forgetmenot

You left us in the early hours,

so peacefully your spirit would roam.

Through a gentle wind and the rising sun,

He called to take you home.

A ladder was built for your journey to light,

each rung meant to make you content.

While bathed in the glowing light of rebirth,

you gracefully began your ascent.

Loving arms awaited  you there,

curling you into their embrace.

Heaven welcomed an angel back home,

 rejoicing her love and her grace.

You leave behind your spirit and joy,

in those who loved you each day.

While our days will be saddened by the emptiness we feel,

we know we will see you someday.

~

Jane Eleanore Nairn – May 21, 1940 – March 7, 2014