Category Archives: imagination
It’s all over
13 CommentsMy dad was a staunch believer in always giving 100 percent effort. His mantra played over and over in my head every time I wrote a test in school and every time I had to put any form of exertion into a task.
Somewhere along my journey through this life, that chant of success began to increase in volume and unwittingly seeped into every other aspect of my life. Sometimes it felt good and other times it felt more like punishment.
I began to take most things to a new level. And going overboard on simple achievements was just the beginning. Realizing I couldn’t attain perfection led me into a pattern of over-eating.
When the over-eating became much more noticeable, I began to over-analyze and over-think everything about the problem instead of just recognizing it for what it was and dealing with it head on.
Of all the things I do with the utmost intensity, over-thinking is the worst of them. I cannot seem to let what will be just be. My brain configures numerous scenarios, all with different outcomes, and will not stop when it should be satisfied. There is always another possibility. This is a fantastic gift to have when I am writing fiction but, when it comes to creating plot lines based on my reality, it is a detriment to normal productivity.
I expend a great effort each day to quell those thoughts. I could take an issue so benign and have it twisted into something so distorted from its original form that it becomes a gnarled version of what it once was and something so far removed from what it ever should be. If I could ever transfer these thoughts to pages of a novel, it would be quite the story.
For now, I will wait out the current situation that has me over-thinking. I will listen to those little voices as they churn out ending after ending but when I reach the point that I eventually find out what will really happen, the wait will be over.
Spark to a flame
16 Comments
My curiosity ignites.
My burning question is nourished
purely by the fuel of my deep desire
to know,
to experience,
to feel the brush of romance
on the canvas that is my skin.
My heart burns
with a yearning
to find you.
~~
The mosaic of a life
4 CommentsMy drive to work each day is relatively stress-free compared to most commuters. I have a 10-minute journey through a small, quaint little town and the traffic in the winter is minimal at best barring any unforeseen wildlife charging through an invisible cross-walk.
This relaxing drive affords me the time to look around and absorb the nuances that make me appreciate the fact that this town is my home. Like all towns, Port Carling is steeped in rich history and tradition and we are proud to boast those memories in our Museum as well as through unique artist renderings. In 2005, “The Wall” was unveiled and, at the time, it was the largest historic photo mosaic mural in the world.
(image credit: muskokalakes.ca)
This tribute to history contains 9,028 individual photos that bring to life the 1922 RMS Sagamo going through the locks in Port Carling. These photos span a century from 1860 to 1960 and yesterday, for some reason, this mosaic really struck a chord deep within me. I have passed it every day on my way to work and never took the time to truly comprehend how snapshots of occurrences in our lives can create such a grand picture of our past.
So many little pieces of our history are used to make up our most significant memories. Stopping to look at this wall made me think of all the snippets that have etched themselves into my brain and have begun to create the mosaic of my life. Some of those fragments in time are dripping with vibrant colors of happiness and others are mottled with the greys of anguish and grief, but all of those hues combine to create the spectral portrait of my life.
If you were to create an emblematic picture of your journey, what would your mosaic look like?
A single wish
21 CommentsThe glow burned my eyes but I couldn’t take my gaze from its mesmerizing emanation. It stood like a sentinel, guarding my emotion. Although it was a single flame, that lone candle represented the one person I wished was here with me.
It’s not about the distance
10 Comments
You see my shoes,
and you think they might fit you.
You may even wrongly assume
that they had very little wear,
and you could walk much further than a mile.
But my treads are worn,
reduced to a thin layer of rubber,
marred by a life of experience.
Perhaps my shoes are similar to yours,
maybe even close to the same size,
but my shoes will not fit you,
as I expect yours would not feel comfortable on my feet.
This road has been mine to follow,
as your trail was carved out for you.
Conceivably, our winding paths have crossed on purpose,
but your journey is yours, as mine belongs to me.
And as much as you think my shoes will fit,
your feet were meant for your shoes
just as mine were meant for me.
I hope one day we will share a walk,
and our shoes will take many steps together.
And when that day comes,
I hope we walk much further than a mile.
Wait for the feathers
12 Comments“Some days you’re the pigeon, some days you’re the statue.” ~ J. Andrew Taylor
Many of our days are inherently better than others. On those precious days we are the pigeon. We are free to fly, the wind lifts us and lets us soar and we feel like nothing can bring us down. We are above all of the little problems that life presents. We gain strength and power as we fly. We are able to stop when we want to and simply observe life at its best from a lofty perch, but we are also able to spread our wings and rise even higher on the warm currents of life.
Some days, however, that magical wind seems non-existent and our wings seem to fail. On those days, we are the statue. We are a solid mass under the weight of our own problems. We feel like we are stuck and there is no room to move. We feel stagnant and are rooted in our place, only able to watch life pass us by and not feel like we can participate. We are heavy with worry and cemented by fear, feeling like the world is doing nothing but looking at us and simply passing us by.
On the days we are the pigeon we have to remember to empathize with the statue. And on the days we are the statue we have to revel in the thought of what it is like to be the pigeon. To truly embrace all of life, we have to be willing to see it from the perspective of the bird and the bust. We have to understand that life is not always going to let us soar but we are never going to be stuck in one place for long if we break free of the mold we created for ourselves.
Life will ground us. It will root us in our place until it sees fit to allow us the capacity to fly once again. And in those moments that we feel fixed in a certain spot in our lives, we just need to wait for those feathers to grow large enough to carry us into our next chapter.
Make a wish
11 Comments
The pyramid that represents my desires is simple. Each wish is placed with careful consideration. Each moment of hope is used as mortar in the cracks. And at the pinnacle of that prism is the cherished knowledge that I dared to dream.
I didn’t want to exhale
3 CommentsI missed you a lot yesterday.
Some days are so much worse.
Lots of funny little memories
flooded back and overwhelmed me.
I thought I could smell your perfume,
Lily of the Valley,
and though it was faint,
even in the earliest days of spring,
with no blossoms to be seen anywhere,
I knew it was you,
and I didn’t want to exhale.
And when the smell of Spearmint gum
overwhelmed my senses,
sometime later in the afternoon,
it was like sneaking into your purse again,
to get a piece of that very gum,
and I didn’t want to exhale.
Those smells keep us connected,
like two worlds coming together
if only for a brief moment.
And no matter how far away you may seem,
those lingering scents make me know that you are here,
standing close to me,
always here when I need you,
and I don’t ever want to exhale.
If you see me
2 Comments
If you see my reflection,
if my eyes look at you from ethereal places,
know that I am by your side.
I don’t have to be near you
to be with you.
You see me,
at the moment you are in my thoughts,
in the precious seconds
I get to be closer to you.
Your reflection is in my heart.
It is in the air around me
and in the divine breath that lets me stay in this place.
If you see me,
it is because I never let go of you.
~~
polysyllabic profundities 