Category Archives: spiritual

Caffeine Deity – Trifextra challenge

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Rulers of space, controllers of destiny – you will appreciate me more than most, for all of your senses will drink me in. Affairs of humanity are best served when Buddha’s cup is full.

coffee-buddha-falko-follert

Written for the weekend Trifecta Challenge: Buddhist cosmology tells of Trāyastriṃśa, or the Heaven of Thirty-Three gods, which rule over the human realm.  This weekend we’re asking for exactly 33 of your own
words about a god of your own devising that shares heaven with the other thirty-two gods.  Make it yours and have fun with it

(image credit: fineartamerica.com)

The Whisper of Words

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I had the pleasure of sharing the creative process with a very talented writer and friend.  Sage Doyle and I put our heads together and this is the result.  If you had not been to his blog, please clink on the link here to check out his brilliance.

The Whisper of Words

Words are delivered in whispers

from poets who have gone long before,

channeling rhymes of wisdom

not to be dismissed as folklore.

So much to be said about words

as we speak of deprived clarity

and words restrained from whispers

disguise our private realities.

Tortured voices of writers,

struggling to capture their muse,

float like feathers in currents of air,

pain and reality infused.

The books become bitter corpses

with nothing but the scent

of musty pages and forgotten shelves

while they await the passing dissent.

The words will live long after

the pages no longer have form.

Those whispers of writers before us

take life and begin to transform.

Clinging to a life – Trifecta challenge

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Orbs of white light,

phantom spirits circling,

lingering, clinging to a life they once knew,

a life they chose not to leave.

The pull of emotion, of attachment,

keeps them here in physical world

longing to prove they still exist.

They travel with us through darkness,

longing to reach out, to touch flesh.

They reside with us in sleep.

They hover, watching us during our slumber.

They bathe in the light of our life force,

pausing  in the shadows,

unseen by the human eye.

They reveal themselves in pictures,

longing for us to feel their presence

and know that they are still with us.

They cloak us in comfort,

their love too strong to let us go,

too strong to pass fully to the other side.

orbs

~

(image credit: greatdreams.com)

Written for the Trifecta Challenge: Now, onto this week’s prompt. We’re still not totally spooked out by you guys yet and we’re a little way from Halloween proper so get your ghoul glad rags on again this week. If there’s anyone who puts the ghoul in ghoulish, it’s you lot. Have fun and, as always, make sure you use the THIRD definition. This week we are back to entries of 33-333 words.

PHANTOM (noun) 1   a :  something apparent to sense but with no substantial existence :  APPARITION      b :  something elusive or visionary      c :  an object of continual dread or abhorrence 2 :  something existing in appearance only

3 :  a representation of something abstract, ideal, or incorporeal – See more at: http://www.trifectawritingchallenge.com/#sthash.QecVLKnT.dpuf

The Silver Lining – 100 Word Challenge

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“What will Heaven be like?”  Her youthful eyes looked to him for answers.

His breathing tubes got in the way when he tried to speak to her. “You know when you see a really dark rain cloud and most of it is black?”

She nodded her agreement.

“Well, Heaven will be like those glorious slices of silver light that radiate around the cloud. Those little pieces of light give everyone hope for something better.”

She curled up under her Grandfather’s arm and held him as closed his eyes. She knew he was on his way to find that silver light.

clouds 008

Written for the 100-Word Challenge over at Julia’s Place.  Photo credit is all my own.

White rabbits and birthday wishes

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It is the first day of the month and, like every beginning of the month, the first words uttered in my waking moments were “white rabbit, white rabbit, white rabbit”. I’m certainly not a superstitious person but this string of language is a long-standing family tradition.  My great cousin Agnes, a delightful lady with a thick Scottish brogue, introduced me to this tradition when I was still in single digits.  She was in her 80’s and she will be an influence in my life that I will never forget.

white rabbits

The idiom is meant to bring luck for the remaining days of the month but reciting that phrase gives me pause to remember cousin Agnes and the other family members and friends who are no longer with me.  When my dad was still with us, my phone would ring in the wee hours on the first of the month and, before even saying hello, we would say our white rabbits on the phone together.  Call display eventually helped to avoid the confusion of people on the other end of the phone if they happened to call before my dad. He was a very early riser and, as unlikely as that was, it happened once or twice and left a few bewildered callers wondering why I was shouting about albino bunnies.

Those simple words this morning were more important because today would have been my dad’s 77th birthday.  Saying those words on the first of this month was like my phone call to Heaven and I could hear his voice in my head saying them back to me at the same time. Though the distance that separates us is immeasurable, he is still never far from my heart.

In those brief moments when darkness still envelops the morning I find a sense of peace in those words.  Those two words, repeated three times in the haze of my waking moments, weave new threads into the blanket of my history.  That phrase warms my heart with memories of people and places that have been etched into my past.  That simple string of words uttered three times in a row will be with me paving the way into my future.

May the next thirty-one days be filled with good things for all of us.

Happy birthday Dad.  xo

Something wicked this way comes

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Intuition is a perplexing thing.  Our body is a natural conduit for energy and that energy has an odd but effective way of giving us warning signs that danger is lurking.   The witches in Macbeth described the feeling as a pricking in their thumbs.  We may feel it when the hair on the nape of our neck stands at attention but the premise is the same.  Our gut is sending a message that our brain cannot ignore.

Usually we can’t understand the visceral reaction to a certain circumstance but we have to put our faith in its validity.  That little voice gets very vocal when it feels imminent danger and usually that voice is spot on.  Everyone is born with the gift of intuition but it is how we heed the wisdom of that instinctive feeling that is of great benefit to us.

That moment when something wicked does actually come may be completely averted by listening to those nagging doubts in our mind.  Those doubts exist for a reason.  There is a power far beyond some people’s belief or comfort level that aids in our self-preservation.   That terse glance over our shoulder, the quickening of our step while walking in the dark – both may feel cryptic and unnecessary but listening to those pestering whispers may help us avoid an uncomfortable situation.

That intuition may also have altruistic applications.  The stirring in our senses does not always represent peril but could also put us on the path to good fortune.  The Yin and Yang of those intuitive forces can also help us make decisions for our benefit and not just our physical longevity.   Our lives are based on choices and that same power of perception can guide us through those choices and help us discover the best path for our journey.

My thumbs do not become prickly, nor does the hair stand up on my neck.  I get goosebumps, and that chicken skin that was once my flesh has never steered me wrong.  Hopefully when something wicked this way really does come, I will be the human version of Foghorn Leghorn, plucked and covered with a road map of goose-flesh to guide me to safety.

Sssssssending a messsssage

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Slightly over ten years ago I listened to a voice mail that would rock the world in which I lived.  I was nearing the end of my work day and called home to see if my best friend had left a message to say she had returned home safely to Halifax from her vacation in England.  The message that I received was nothing like what I expected.  I played the message one more time, listening carefully to the Newfoundland accent to make sure I heard it correctly, and the handset of the phone fell out of my hand and hit the desk.  I stood in utter disbelief as the horror of the words slowly transformed themselves into my new reality.  Sandra had passed away.

While on her holiday, she had burned her leg on a propane heater and, unbeknownst to anyone, had been exposed a form of bacteria that would take her life several hours after she stepped on the plane.   She had been infected with the Staphylococcus bacteria which presented as Necrotizing Fasciitis, better known as the Flesh Eating Disease.

I flew to Halifax to be with her mom and to attend her funeral.  I did my best to articulate the words I had written for her eulogy and can still remember how much my legs shook behind the podium as I tried to capture and convey her beautiful spirit with my words.

When I returned home from the most emotionally draining experience of my life, I was confronted with the most terrifying experience of my life.  This picture was taken of the window in the entrance way to my house.  The glass spans 45 inches and this charming creature was folded in half basking in the sunshine between the two panes of glass.

snake

This Eastern Milk Snake meandered its way up the window casing and into the ceiling of the entrance way.  I’m sure by now you have surmised that I did NOT sleep in my house for a few nights, but knew I couldn’t abandon my home.  I moved back in and am still hoping it wasn’t long before it moved out.

After a few weeks I didn’t give it another thought but last week all of that changed.  No, it did not resurface, but I was sharing my story with a friend and she told me that a snake symbolizes rebirth.  Suddenly my perspective on that whole experience changed.  Perhaps Sandra found a way, a terrifying and unique way, to let me know that she was okay.  Maybe she was trying to impart her acceptance of her fate and let me know that her soul felt reborn.

Messages are everywhere – we just need to learn how to see them and interpret them.  I am sure now that Sandra somehow managed to guide that reptile to my house to send a message in a way that nobody else could.  She was as distinctive in death as she was in life and I still miss her every day. (Sandra, in case you are reading this – if you are going to send further communication, any other form of message would be greatly appreciated!!)

More than merely notes on a page

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“Without music, life would be a mistake.” ~ Friedrich Nietzsche

I could live the rest of my life without television, but take music from me and you may as well send me into my next incarnation.  Music has a way of taking what was wrong and making it right.

After a long day the right song choice is the consummate escape to find my way back to myself.  Closing the car door in the office parking lot, starting the engine and letting that perfect song selection caress my mind is such a welcome close to any hectic day.

When you find inspiring music and let it seep into your soul, it’s much more than just listening to a song.  Those notes and harmonies can take you out of your current existence and transport you to a new state of being.  The songs become so much more than notes on a page, they become transcendent.

notes on a page

I have a very eclectic compilation of music that I enjoy and, each day that I want to peel back the layers of my hectic life and just relax, the song is never the same.  My diverse taste allows me a greater freedom in finding that right choice to help assuage the tension of every day life.  Those varying notes in that array of genres is the portfolio of my relaxation and escape.

I don’t ever defend my vast taste in music, I embrace it.  I am never at a loss for a tune that will suit the moment I am in, and that gives me a contented feeling.  My music can match any mood and any circumstance, and I will never be afraid to admit the extreme sides to my play list.

Recently that melodic portal of liberation has been opened by the beautiful tones of four soulful voices provided by The Tenors.  Music will always have a soothing quality but when you find the right blend of melody and harmony the result is an emotionally soothing journey.  My goal is to meet these four Canadian boys!

Music is much more than just notes on a page.  Music is a memory. Music is a feeling.  Music is the collection of notes at the heart of your soul.

Lucky number three – Trifextra post

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She waited at the gates for her turn.  She had been reincarnated twice before and found him late in her last life.  Their souls were destined for love.  Third time is the charm.

~

Written for the Trifextra post: On to the new prompt.  This weekend we’re asking for 33 of your own words inspired by the idiom, third time’s the charm.  This familiar phrase may have an indeterminate origin, but its meaning is clear.  Whether or not you include the phrase itself is up to you.  Just make sure to use exactly 33 words.  And, as usual, have fun with it!

Happy Father’s Day – a message to Heaven

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My dad passed away over seven years ago.  I miss his smile, I miss his laugh and I miss the good times we used to have.  This is a poem I wrote when they dedicated a freshly planted tree and and a plaque to him in our new community park after his passing.  Happy Father’s Day to my dad and to all the dads out there.  I hope you are able to create memories with your kids that will last a lifetime.

new-52

(my dad)

~

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.