Denial isn’t just a river in Egypt

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I haven’t been writing much lately.  Whether that is a matter of dried wells of creativity or life getting in the way, I have been denying the reality when it comes to my lack of imagination.

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I wish, with every fiber of my being, that I could plunge back into that benevolent ocean of words and ideas and feel buoyant in those familiar waters.  I wish I could ride on the waves of imagery and fantasy and surf on the crest of that elusive swell of inspiration.  But lately the words evade me.  I am a helpless surfer sitting in the middle of a tranquil body of water with no tides to move my motionless board.

I need a storm in my brain to strike and gain some momentum.  I need the winds to tickle the chimes in my stagnant imagination and create a funnel cloud that gathers stories in its fury-filled path.  I need that still ocean to become animated and my lifeless board to carve its way through a sea of new tales.

Or maybe, I just need to write.

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Finding the time to make some time

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I miss reading blogs.  I miss catching up with the friends I have come to know in this little slice of creative heaven.  And I miss having all of my writing cylinders firing at the same time.  If my life had a movie title it would be “Life Interrupted”.

The summer hospitality chaos begins a week tomorrow but with that chaos comes a reasonably regular schedule and a chance to corral the myriad of thoughts in my head and the opportunity to pin them down (I hope).

May the writing Gods nod in my direction and may my creative world ease back into its natural orbit in the WordPress galaxy!

 

 

100 Word Song – Passionate kisses

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Passionate kisses,

lingering in your memory,

long after lips reluctantly parted,

long after skin had grazed skin,

long after the hand had caressed your cheek.

Passionate kisses,

leaving subtle images in your mind,

bookmarking the first page of romance in your story,

creating a smile that will give away your wish-filled thoughts,

leaving the rest of the pages open to be written.

Passionate kisses

that were the beginning of a wistful romance.

Kisses that would dapple the remaining chapters

of a grand story of love with their depth of emotion.

Passionate kisses

that would tell a tale like no other.

~~

Written for the 100 Word Song Challenge at My Blog Can Beat Up Your Blog.

Making sense of scents

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Growing up, the smell of bacon always made me recall the nights my father insisted we have Liver and Onions for dinner.  My mother would try to mask the smell with bacon to fool us into a false sense of security but we were on to her very early.  It wasn’t until many years later that I learned to associate that smoky smell with far more pleasant and savory tastes.

It made me ponder how a single smell can elicit such powerful memories.  The olfactory bulb switches on at a moment’s notice when a familiar scent touches an odor memory that has been etched into our brain.  Smells are one of the best ways to reconnect with our past.  During the cold January nights when I am forced to stand outside because my dog has yet to learn how to use the toilet, the smell of that bitter, cold winter air takes me back to the ski hills at Alpine in Collingwood.  I’ve lived in Muskoka for most of my life and experienced some extremely biting temperatures but, still, the memory that is brought to life is that of being a kid at a familiar cabin on a busy ski hill.

My mother’s purse, laden with the essence of Spearmint gum, the fragrance of a certain perfume or the whiff of something as simple as a laundry detergent has the power to create such sentimentality.  We are transported back to a glimpse of something from our past that has left such a lasting impression.  It may not even be a conscious memory but something about that lingering scent brings to mind a time that has long since passed.

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I was given a bottle of white wine recently that I haven’t tasted in years.  When I opened the bottle and that first aroma hit my nasal passages I was immediately transported to an apartment that I haven’t seen in decades.  The scent of that Verdicchio took me back and the flood of nostalgia overwhelmed me.

Smells, feelings and memories become so intimately and easily intertwined that a person can be overcome with emotion.  Odoriferous messages flood the senses.  Good or bad, we are ferried to an alternate dimension of our own reality and held as a captive of our experiences. For the past few wedding seasons I was a cake maker.  I loved the artistry that I was able to create but, better than that, I loved the smell of the cake baking.  The aromatic smell of chocolate cake will always be the smell that reminds me of my house.  And though I don’t create those cakes anymore the smell of unscheduled cupcake baking sessions transports me to a happy place.

Of all of the senses that I am blessed with, smell seems to be the front-runner when it comes to reliving a sense of the past.

What smell takes you back in time?

A celebration of a life

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Yesterday was a beautiful day.  The sun was shining as a light breeze tickled the newly formed Spring leaves and collectively we gathered to share stories and memories of my mother.  The service was just as she would have wanted.  There were funny recollections, there were heart-warming memories and 18 butterflies took flight as we all remembered her kind spirit and loving heart.

The tablecloths were a lovely shade of pink, arrangements of brilliantly colored flowers were on each table and the atmosphere was anything but morose.  It truly was a celebration of life.

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My mom did not want a somber occasion to be the last tribute to her life.  She didn’t want those she knew crying because she was gone but, instead, she wanted people to remember all of the good moments they had with her when they were in her presence.  And that is exactly is what we did.

There was no rushed planning of funeral arrangements and hastily written eulogies.  We allowed ourselves time to grieve in our own way and spent two months putting a great deal of effort into a truly personal send-off, one my mom would have loved.  Sure, there were tears, but the majority of the time was spent sharing happy stories of a woman who genuinely affected people in such a positive way.  We were able to overcome the initial raw pain of loss and gave ourselves permission to really enjoy the memories and pay tribute to her in a way that she deserved.

Mere words can only scratch the surface of how many lives my mother touched with her smile, her generosity and her love.  She will be missed every day but her memory will live on in each of the smiles of those who take time to remember her.

Today, the loss is so much more real because now there is no distraction to take away from the reality that she is gone.  We must now hold dear to the multitude of moments she left an imprint on our hearts and use those moments to heal the scars created on our hearts when she left.

 

 

 

Feng Shui or other motivational tools

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I am admittedly in a slump.  Usually I have to fight off the writing demons in my brain and ask them to speak one at a time. Lately it seems they have staged a coup and the only sound seeping from my cranium is crickets.

Sometimes I see brief snapshots of what those writing demons look like, laid back in the lounge at the back of my brain, crushed velvet smoking jackets on and snifters of Remy XO in their greedy little fists.  Those bastards didn’t even invite me to the party!

Little do they know that after my mom’s service on Wednesday, I am cleaning house.  Those reclining leather loungers are gone and in their place will be some relatively uncomfortable and completely motionless wooden chairs.  The smoking jackets are going to Salvation Army and that Remy XO is mine!

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I have the movers ready to help with the refurnishing and a yard-sale is being planned for the ornate wall decorations they seem to have collected over the years.  Hopefully the extreme measures will help and the fruits of my labor will be rewarded with words.  If not, I know a cheap writing team that may be available next week.  They were pretty good for a while but they’re so damned stubborn sometimes!!

Waging a war with words

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I charge into battle,

head held high,

armed with neither knives nor guns.

My ammunition carries no physical weight.

The only weapon I use to defend myself will not extinguish a life.

My battles are fought with words.

The only dagger I possess is my sharp tongue.

My army is my vocabulary,

my stealth is the thesaurus in my brain.

My mind is the only weapon that doesn’t need a holster.

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Everyone is an artist – 100 Word Song

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Like a charcoal sketch,

I see myself outlined his eyes,

I see my silhouette as he sees me.

So vastly different

from my reflection in the mirror.

But I follow deep into the abyss,

into the portrait he has created of me.

I follow those lines,

to try to see what he sees.

In my mind I trace the outline

following each stroke of the pencil.

And I journey

as deep as I can go,

swimming in his reality of me,

truly understanding how he sees me.

I may have changed  a few lines,

but to him I am perfection.

~~

Written for the 100 Word Song Challenge at My Blog Can Beat Up Your Blog.  This week’s song is Deep As You Go, by October Project.

Go and check it out if you haven’t been there!!

Last Trifecta

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A chorus of silent voices,

joining in harmony around the globe.

Embracing passion,

creating relationships,

making friends.

We placed a bet on the Trifecta,

wagered everything we had.

We all came in first.

trifecta

~~

(image credit: trifectawritingchallenge.com)

Written for the last ever Trifecta challenge – 33 words of our own choosing.  It saddens me that the doors to the Trifecta lounge will be closing but I am thankful for the friends I have made in that lounge.  Thank you to the creators of Trifecta for giving us the opportunity to hone our skills and choose our words wisely.  And thank you for creating a community that will live on in our newly developed friendships.