Category Archives: life

The Miracle of Life

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Winter seemed reluctant to release its hold

as the Earth yearned to welcome Spring.

The sun’s rays massaged the ground and the trees.

A warm breeze whispered,

playfully tickling the branches on its journey.

The smell of wet soil rose to greet the morning

as the familiar songs of new life began to play

their symphony of rebirth.

For just a moment, I was an instrument in that orchestra.

The sun kissed my cheek,

as happy to see me as I was to feel its warm embrace.

I was comforted by its nurturing essence.

But Mother Nature’s heart is frozen,

her resolve, stoic.

Her icy talons hold Spring hostage in their death grip,

encasing it in a cold and lifeless womb.

The new blanket of snow

wrapped so tightly, ceasing the flow of life,

suffocating the season.

But at the core of her being, she is a mother.

Her heart will fill with a need

to birth this new life,

to nurture it and watch it grow.

She will proudly watch Spring take those first steps

and her heart will warm once again.

~~

Written for the Speakeasy at Yeah Write.  I was more inspired by this prompt this morning after waking up to 8 cm of fresh snow!!  We were SO close to it all being gone.

speakeasy-logo2

hang on — there’s rules:

  • Your post must be dated April 13, 2013, or later.
  • Submissions must be 750 words or fewer.
  • Submissions must be fiction or poetry.
  • You must include the following sentence as the FIRST line in your submission: “Winter seemed reluctant to release its hold.”
  • You must also include a reference to the media prompt.
  • The speakeasy is for submissions written specifically for the grid. Please don’t submit an entry if you intend to showcase it to another blog link-up. Such posts are deleted without notice.
  • Please don’t post long explanations before your post. We want your writing to be the star of the show. If you need to clarify anything, feel free to do so at the end.
  • The badge for your speakeasy #157 post is found in the sidebar. Add the code to the html/text view of your post before publishing.

And don’t forget to come back on Tuesday and add your link to the Inlinkz grid!

A few drops in the bucket

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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?

Gone but not forgotten – Gargleblaster

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I don’t see her the way I used to,

but every so often she is a shape in the clouds,

she is two leaves forming a pattern

or she is the warm air that lulls me into sleep.

Gone, but not forgotten.

~~

gargle157

This is my first submission for the Gargleblaster challenge.

Gargleblaster: this week’s ultimate question

Is everyone recovered from last week’s gargleblaster binge? Fabulous! Take a deep breath and get ready for the next round. This week’s ultimate question was provided by yeah write editor Michelle, who found it on page 42 of Broken Magic by author and yeah write alum Eric Sipple:

Do you see her much?

Let’s see how you answer this question in 42 words. Be creative!

There’s a moose loose in the hoose

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‘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!!

Mind your own beeswax

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I wrote this post last month about people asking questions that were really none of their business and how I learned to respond.

I stumbled on this funny sign on Facebook and realized this recorded method of learning the same lesson may be far more effective than my logic.

mind your business

Happy Friday everyone.  The sun will be shining here on Sunday and I will be basking in it – no need to peer into any strange fences!!

Me, myself and I

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“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?

 

 

 

One more orbit for this girl

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I “borrowed” much of this post from last year on this very day because new words would not come today.

Today is an important day in my life…..today I am acutely aware of the number of years I have been on this ever revolving planet.  A birthday is not a number to me but a moment to celebrate the day I entered this life. (and it’s 45, but I still feel 29 so that counts, right?…..right?)

Today, however, is a difficult birthday.  This is my first birthday in 45 years that my mom hasn’t been the first one to call me in the early hours of the day with birthday wishes.  I did awake at 12:11 this morning and could have sworn I saw my mom and dad standing side by side.  No words were spoken but I guess they were the first to wish me happy birthday in their own way.

I celebrate with many people, some I know well, some I’ve never met, but there is one important celebration that mirrors mine – my Winnie The Pooh.  My mom created a stuffed version of the beloved character for me when I turned one and, to this day, I still have that somewhat tattered foam-filled creature.  McCall’s created a Disney series of patterns in the 1960’s that she duplicated for my brother for his first birthday and again, almost four years later, for my birthday.

He has seen his share of joys and tragedies.  He has undergone facial reconstruction and some botched plastic surgery (thanks to an over-excitable Labrador Retriever that belonged to a roommate) but he still never fails to hang in there to share year after year with me. He and I have weathered many successes and many ominous periods together, but he still remains the same source of comfort he has always been.

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Although it may seem somewhat childish to hang onto a toy that I have long outgrown, Winnie still holds an immeasurable value in my life. He represents a part of my childhood that I hold dear and he continues to represent the faith that I hold in my friendships.  He and I may not be able to communicate on the level that is deemed normal for friends but I still feel comfortable confiding in him, knowing that he will always be there to listen when I need him.

He has been a valuable part of my grieving process over the last three weeks and has found his way back into that comfortable position, tucked into the crook of my arm while I sleep.

Happy birthday Winnie…..may we continue on our journey and have a very long life together!!

Night breezes seem to whisper

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Dreams

(image credit: panktimehta.blogspot.com)

I have always been fortunate when it comes to dreaming. Not only do I have very vivid dreams splashed with a vast array of colors but I also retain most of my dreams in my waking moments.  Last night was no exception to those rules.

Last night I dreamed of my mom.  It is not the first time she has been in my dreams since she passed a couple of weeks ago but this dream was the first time that she was the main character in the night-time production of my subconscious.  During the wee hours of my REM sleep we were able to have a conversation.

In the bizarre circumstances of my dream she had already passed away but when I was the only other person in the room she would become magically reanimated and we would talk at great length.  When others entered the room she remained still, not a word escaped from her lips.  When I awoke this morning, rather than feeling perplexed I felt deeply comforted and peaceful.  I don’t recall many of the words she uttered to me in my sleep but I do feel a great sense of warmth and a feeling of relief that she is content on the other side.  She no longer carries the chains of the physical limitations she endured with her illness and, finally, she truly feels fine.

Have you ever received messages in your dreams?

 

 

Owls and butterflies and long-winded sighs

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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.

 

Friends around the globe

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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.