Category Archives: honesty

Varying degrees of interpretation

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I love blogging. It allows me to truly be myself, to express words and feelings that come to mind without having to think about them. Stories that would be otherwise untold rise to the surface and hurtle themselves at the page through my fingertips.

When I jumped into this creative ocean, I had no idea what to expect and absolutely no realization that I would cast myself into a sea of churning drops of water that, although they combine to create a large body of water, each possess qualities that make them truly unique.  The vast array of blogs that I read allows me to look at the world through different eyes and see things in a way that may have escaped my attention.  They create a path for me to follow through a portal into an inspired world that I may never have found on my own.

lightning

(image courtesy of naturealive.asia)

The Trifecta Challenges embody these varying degrees of interpretation.  A great number of bloggers are given the same challenge and no two entries are similar in any respect, apart from following the rules for submitting posts.  Each writer is struck by a lightning bolt of creativity but that bolt is generated from a completely exclusive storm and the raindrops of ideas saturate only their mind.

When I post an idea I look forward to the comments I receive.  Initially I would have child-like reaction if a comment held an opposing view, but I have come to appreciate being able to see my thoughts from another perspective.  Each comment is like a golden pin of light shining through the words, altering the original picture and making me look at my own thoughts in a different way.

This blogging journey has expanded my mind, not only in my writing but also my ability to ingest words from other writers and see the world through their eyes.  And whether their world is dripping in sarcasm, prolific with poetry or fraught with haunting truths I enjoy being a part of their journey as well as having them be a part of my literary pilgrimage.

How has blogging changed your world?

I’ll never really say goodbye

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This post is written for my dad.

Seven years ago today I watched my father take his last breath.  It was a moment filled with, not only great sadness but, a small amount of relief.  The years leading up to my father’s passing were difficult.  The body of a once vibrant and gregarious man had been ravaged by the effects of  years of alcohol abuse and the subsequent illness that followed.  My mom became his primary caregiver and we could do nothing but watch as the disease progressed and introduced new complications.  My father began having seizures and, after several weeks, he was finally hospitalized.  My brother spent most of the night at the hospital with us but in the darkness of early morning my mom and I sat at the end of his bed during his last few hours and talked to him, telling him it was alright to let go.  And he finally did.

The image of my father lying lifeless in that hospital bed is still strong in my memory.  It wasn’t until several years later was I able to replace that image with thoughts of my dad as he was – full of life, always smiling and loved by everyone.  He oozed charm and was always the life of the party.

I knew from a young age that my dad had a drinking problem, but it wasn’t until I was in my early thirties that my dad confessed something to me that I will never forget.  He told me he didn’t think people would find him fun if he wasn’t drinking.  I had always seen my dad as a man brimming with self-confidence but the man who sat before me, confiding his truth to me, was a man so unsure of himself that he resorted to a habit that would eventually steal his soul.

The phrase “courage in a bottle” was thrown around by friends during our college years, but until that exchange with my father I had never conceived the weight of its meaning.  On the outside my father was the guy everyone wanted to be around because he made life enjoyable.  He enriched the lives of people he touched and left them with lasting memories of laughter, songs and love.  But on the inside he found himself trapped under the canopy of self-doubt and he quieted his demons with alcohol.

The memories of the good times with my dad far outweigh any negative thoughts about his illness.  The way his eyes twinkled when he laughed, the daisy covered speedo he would carelessly throw on the dock so he could suntan naked, the ballroom dancing in the living room and the blueberry muffins I would bake every Sunday morning so we could all have breakfast in my parent’s bed – those are the things I hold close.

Several months after his passing, our town council honored my dad with a plaque and a newly planted tree for his dedication and commitment to the Communities In Bloom project.  There was a small service at the park and I wrote this poem to read at the ceremony.

I miss you dad.  Your light will always continue to shine.

birch tree

As Seasons Change

We give these gifts of nature in your name,

to forever keep you near,

to take root in a place you kept close to your heart,

and represent the things you hold dear.

Your rock will remind us to always be strong,

and to remain solid in the lives we love.

And follow in the examples you gave us in life,

as you look on us from above.

Your tree will remind us to accept the changes,

of seasons that come and go.

As the tree becomes bare at times in our life,

new leaves will blossom in time to show

that nature is beautiful and life has a season,

but all things do come to an end.

And with each change and leaf that is lost,

family and friendships help mend.

Branches sway in the winds of time,

and your whispers will be heard in the breeze.

Your memory lives on in the nature around us,

the air, the rocks, the trees.

All is fair in love and war

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The art of building and maintaining a relationship is a craft that is sometimes difficult to master.  There is a fine balance between debating and fighting and it is a balance that every couple has to find.

love and war

 

(image courtesy of Google)

When they say all is fair in love and war, what they are really saying is – it has to be fair.  There are things everyone needs in their relationships and everyone’s needs are different.  You may need to feel supported or you may need to feel challenged, but everyone has a need.  It is up to you to figure out what your needs really are and, at the end of process, to be fair to your partner while fulfilling those needs.

I was talking to a good friend recently about what he needs and we talked about “the list” – taking the time to write the list of what is important to you in a relationship, what type of feedback matters to you and writing those needs on a piece of paper.  If you put those feelings out into the universe and let the world know what you need, it WILL find you.  And that is part of being fair to yourself.  Being fair to your partner comes as part and parcel of that relationship package.

It may seem trite, but if you can admit to yourself what is important to you, you have a much better chance of finding that partner that will possess all the things you need and will be fair in the love portion of your relationship as well as the war portion. Dialogue is crucial to a successful relationship.  That dialogue may be saturated with verbosity destined for a soap opera or it may be immersed in a battle fit for Judge Judy.  Regardless of the definition that banter needs to be suited to what you need in your life or it will never succeed as a relationship.

When you consider a potential partner, you need to assess what parts of love and what parts of war you require to make you content with that alliance. If you need that person to challenge your opinions, than find someone who will thrive on that debating process.  If you need to be supported and not challenged, than find a lover who will never second guess your intentions.  Ultimately you choose the person that is privileged enough to share your life.  Pick the piece that fits your puzzle.

What are the most important qualities you would put on your list?

Held Captive – Trifecta challenge

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This is my entry for the Trifecta Challenge, which is this:  For the weekend challenge we’re asking for exactly thirty-three words written in first person narrative. Have fun with it and we’ll meet you back here on 3/3! 

(image courtesy of Google)

brain

I am afraid.  Not of being alone, or of being sick, but afraid my words will not adequately express my thoughts.  I am afraid my brain will betray me.  I am its captive.

I get by with a little help from my friends

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I have always been a very independent person. Even as a young child I would get angry when people tried to help me with things that were proving difficult for me. I seemed to get the sense, even at that tender stage of my life, that I was somehow failing if I couldn’t do it on my own.

Over the years I have been able to let some of that stubbornness go, not all of it, but enough to allow me to see how a helping hand can smooth the rough edges that I used to cut myself on repeatedly. As individuals, we are porous rocks. We are permeable and sometimes allow too many of the negative things in our life shape the person we become. We have bumps and impurities and we develop jagged edges to protect ourselves from unwanted encounters with anyone outside of our realm of comfort.

As we journey through life, we collect friends much like a beach collects grains of sand.  And akin to those grains of sand, our friends help smooth our rough edges.  They help transform that rough exterior and, with love and compassion, they help us to become more polished by eroding our jagged exterior and finding the beauty underneath.

smooth rock

(image courtesy of Google)

My beach stretches for miles.   The many grains of sand that comprise my shore come in all shapes and sizes and although some stay close to me and some remain on the periphery of my seascape they are all equally important parts of that beach.  I try to take as many long walks as possible along my shorelines and appreciate each grain of friendship in my life.  And though I may not make it to the outer boundaries very often, know that each of you, near or far, have contributed to the beauty of my shoreline.

Opinions are like belly buttons

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I have never had much faith in my ideas.  I used to think my opinion wouldn’t be worth the air used to expel my thoughts.  But I’ve come to realize through blogging that there will always be at least one person who shares my opinion.  Some of my thoughts may go against the grain and rub people the wrong way, but opinions are like belly buttons, everyone has one.  Inevitably the words I put into cyberspace will resonate with someone and that, alone, makes the time it takes to write a post completely worthwhile.

There are days when I receive comments that completely argue the other side of the coin and that, too, makes the effort worth it because it always gives me another way of looking at a subject that perhaps I was viewing in too linear a way.  Those comments may help me to form an alternate opinion and see a point of view that I may have never considered.

my-opinion

(image courtesy of Google)

Sometimes the opinions I express quickly get the most profound reactions.  I could spend hours trying to piece together a meaningful post, one that comes from the depth of my writing soul, and it inspires nothing.  But a collection of sentences that I didn’t over-analyze and spend hours interrogating spurs discussion and controversy and keeps the comments flowing.

It’s difficult to know what will grab the attention of other people, but I can only write with the hope that my opinion matters.  And the most important person it should matter to is me.  I have to give myself permission to stand behind what I believe, whether the masses agree or they differ in that opinion.  Perhaps what urges me to continue in this quest is the love of a healthy debate – being able to hear arguments from both sides to come to a healthy consensus.

That is the true joy of expressing a thought.  Regardless of what thought it is, an opinion will undoubtedly weigh heavily on at least one person and make them think.  Maybe that one person will be me, and maybe it will be you, but whomever that person is, it was worth putting the words on the page.

What’s your opinion?

Those elusive birds

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The Daily Prompt today truly got me thinking….and on a Monday that is slightly painful.  The challenge today is this – Clichés become clichés for a reason. Tell us about the last time a bird in the hand was worth two in the bush for you.

bird in the hand

(image courtesy of Google)

This may be a reverse approach to this challenge, but this is where my brain took my words.

Truly appreciating what you have without looking at what better things may come along may be easier said than done.  There is always the outward pressure of ‘what if’ that will make us ponder the value of what we have now versus the value of what may lay beyond.

We take the risk of upsetting the balance in our lives, that sure thing, to forage the unknown.  And perhaps the excitement of the mysterious is part of the allure.  Perhaps the elusive birds in the bush hold the key to something we have not been able to realize with the bird in hand.

It’s lofty to dream, but as long as we don’t let greed cloud our vision, each of us will always have that feeling of wanderlust.  It’s how we choose to act on that feeling that is important, and so far, I have never let that voracity interrupt the path that I have chosen.

I read, therefore, I review

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I love to read.  I don’t make as much time for it as I would like because I am consumed with writing, but when I do ignore the incongruously fueled ideas that seep into my conscious hours I love to immerse myself in the written expression of others as consumed as I am by words.  I have been fortunate to meet many talented writers and genuinely nice people on this blog site.  And I also consider myself lucky to have read some of their published works.  I have written my amateur reviews on Amazon and wanted to share them with you in hopes that you would read the books written by these truly talented people.

The Gods of Asphalt by H.E. Ellis – I didn’t want to put it down 

Engaging from beginning to end, The Gods of Asphalt takes us on a journey of emotion and growth. Sawyer and River, two brothers with a far from normal childhood, struggle with their past and find a way to define themselves through Ellis’ depiction of teenage angst and growing pains.

Their relationship with each other, their family and their peers is written with such honesty and tension that the pages seem to turn themselves as you are wrapped into the weave of their lives. Within their turmoil we are given true insight into their characters and find something compelling in each of them. Ellis writes with such realism that the book takes on a life of its own. She gives depth to not only the main characters, but to each of the ensemble that support Sawyer and River on their adventure.

The Gods of Asphalt is the first in a series and this foray into the family dynamic puts the spotlight on Sawyer. His journey to finally break free of his past and live a life that is defined only by him is an endearing story and one that will have you strapping into your seat as you ride along on his roller coaster.

I would recommend setting aside several hours if you start this book because you won’t be able to put it down.  Go here for more information on H.E. Ellis and her books.

Scenes From A Hundred Morning Drives by Edward Hotspur – Who knew driving to work could be so funny 

One hundred morning drives and one hundreds reasons to read this book. From funny to thought-provoking, Edward Hotspur takes us on his journey to work and on an adventure through the workings of his mind. It ranges from hilarious to emotionally charged and never disappoints.

Scenes From A Hundred Morning Drives makes you wish you were the co-pilot in the vehicle that drove this book. It is a collection of blog posts that transforms into a day-to-day account of the life of real person that describes real feelings and hilarious observations of the casualties of the human experience.

It is humor, wrapped in honesty, wrapped in reality and then wrapped in bubble wrap for safety. If you like to laugh at life and find some deeper meaning hidden in the text, put on your seat belt and get ready for a hundred morning drives.  Click here to find out more about Mr. Hotspur.

The Eleventh Question by Dianne Gray – Emotional attachment to the characters

Author Dianne Gray truly knows how to get to the real essence of her characters. I was immediately drawn into this book and had trouble putting it down.

Although worlds apart, Dianne weaves a connection between a girl struggling to define her reasons for being and Seer trying desperately to help her find the answers to her questions. The book seamlessly transitions from one perspective to the other and intertwines helplessness with hope.

The Eleventh Question not only engages us in the journey of the characters but makes us reflect on the signs that life presents. It delves into the deeper meaning of intuition and gives us hope that nobody is ever truly alone. It is an uplifting story of survival and success against all odds.  For more information about Dianne Gray and the other books she has written, click here.

I’m sure the water is fine – Trifecta Challenge

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I’ve never been afraid of the water.  But perhaps after spending five years trying to calm the waves in my marriage I have been left with the slightest hesitation about diving back in.  Divorce can feel like a Tsunami, like the calm before the storm.  There is a sense of peace and strange tranquility and then the rush of emotion comes like a tidal wave engulfing everything in its path. And like the Tsunami, you know that wave is coming but it’s nearly impossible to get to a safe haven.

tsunami

(image courtesy of Google)

The dating pool, although seemingly non-threatening compared to the violent storm waves, beckons and standing on the edge of that pool is just as daunting as watching that tide surge forward.  The water may seem calm on the surface but the hidden dangers lie beneath that placid sheen and the potential for another storm gives me pause.  The slightest touch of the surface causes ripples and pushes me back from the edge of the pool.

I watch as the ripples dissipate.  The soft blue glow seems so inviting, but the dormant threat still lurks under the veil waiting to lure me closer to the edge, waiting to gently touch my skin and pull me under when I am blissfully unaware of the current below.  I can’t swim, not now.  Maybe sometime soon I will remember how wonderful it felt to float in that water, how comforting it was to be surrounded by its warmth and to feel buoyant.  Maybe soon, but not now.

I’m sure the water is fine, but I don’t think I’m ready yet to hold my breath and jump.  For now I’m content to sit on the edge of the pool and exhaust every argument in my head as to why I shouldn’t just take the plunge.

~

This was written for the Trifecta Challenge:
EXHAUST (transitive verb)
1a : to consume entirely : use up <exhausted our funds in a week>
b : to tire extremely or completely <exhausted by overwork>
c : to deprive of a valuable quality or constituent <exhaust a photographic developer>
2a : to draw off or let out completely
b : to empty by drawing off the contents; specifically : to create a vacuum in
3a : to consider or discuss (a subject) thoroughly or completely  

Please remember:
  • Your response must be between 33 and 333 words.
  • You must use the 3rd definition of the given word in your post.
  • The word itself needs to be included in your response.
  • You may not use a variation of the word; it needs to be exactly as stated above.
  • Only one entry per writer.
  • Trifecta is open to everyone.  Please join us.

Slaying the dragon

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Even if it is broken, it can’t always be fixed ~SN.

My mother always used to tell me that I like to find the ‘broken ducks’ and fix them…..and it’s true.   I seem to be magnetically drawn to people who I think I can “save” in some way, even though they may not be looking for salvation.  If I look at it honestly, with no rose-colored glasses, my childhood perpetuated this need to create a sane world in a universe of quiet insanity.  On the outside our life was perfect, but on the inside there were things that created the person I am today and ingrained the need to make life as perfect on the inside as it seemed on the outside.  But I chose to focus on others rather than focusing  on myself.  I felt the need to create a picture by painting by the numbers that belonged to other people instead of the numbers on my blank canvas.  I grew up as a child of two alcoholic parents and the need to fix my parents spun into a life of restoring a sense of normalcy in every life but my own.

No matter the size of sword you carry, sometimes the dragon is bigger than you anticipated and it cannot be conquered by steel alone.  Although I spent many years of my youth trying to slay that beast, it had far more power than I anticipated and my life became a battle far greater than a teenaged girl was prepared to face.  The need to vanquish that dragon spilled into my marriage and the cycle of alcoholism and redemption breathed new life.  The dragon was alive and well with a different face and a new attitude, but it was the same dragon I had been battling for years.

slaying the dragon

(Photo courtesy of Google)

Perhaps it was the wisdom that came with age, or perhaps the sword I had been wielding had gained strength over the years, but the dragon I was faced with in the days of being married didn’t seem to possess as much strength as the dragon of my youth and I was able to overcome its fiery existence and reclaim the life I was meant to have.  Maybe that dragon still lingers, awaiting its chance for revenge, but I have finally drawn the line.  My stance is rigid and I am ready for that battle.

If there is anything this blogging journey has taught me, it is to be honest.  Not only honest in my life, but honest in my writing as well.  And whether that honesty presents itself in traits of a character or a mere extension of myself in this forum, it is freeing.  I have shared parts of myself I never thought I would divulge and it has liberated a piece of myself long since buried.  I have fixed myself by escaping the confines of my past and breaking down the walls that caged my future and instead have trapped the dragon in that cage.

I don’t know if I’m writing this to remind myself of the strength that I need to hold close to my heart or if I am writing this to finally free the dragon that I may never slay.  Regardless, tears slowly slide down my cheek as I free this last bit of anguish and look ahead to what will be.  I cannot change the past, but I can certainly shape my future by letting that dragon rest as I move on to a new castle that is free of that beast.

My life is a blank canvas.  It awaits a new story board and a tale that is yet to be written.  And maybe the canvas is slightly damaged, but I will embrace those impurities because the vision of the artist still holds the potential for a beautiful new masterpiece that is waiting to be created.