Is there a right way to write?

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When I began to really delve into writing poetry and short stories I was more comfortable writing in long hand.  It freed my mind to truly compose the ideas, the rhymes and the drama, and felt much more like a natural flow from brain to hand to ink to paper.  The archaic version of computers we had at that point did not lend much ease in the writing experience since it was a behemoth that was no more moveable than my car.

In the bygone days of my youth (I make myself sound 100 years old), when I began to read voraciously, I would always have a pen and paper handy to write down any words I found challenging and words that I was excited to use in my writing.  It went on for pages.  I still have those pages and, although they are now collecting dust in a storage bin, they still remind me of my hunger for words.  My hunger now is much more easily satiated.  With the ease of Google, on-line dictionaries and thesauruses I no longer have to put the word to paper and look it up in a bound, hard-cover dictionary.  I even have a dictionary in my Kindle should the need arise to define a foreign word.

Nowadays, I’m sure a chimpanzee would have much more success with that foreign writing object we call a pen.  I used to have beautiful handwriting and now the things that come out of the pen slightly resemble a modified version of shorthand.  (It would be far more beneficial for me if it were shorthand since I currently have no clue what I’ve written!)

shorthand

(photo courtesy of commons.wikimedia.org)

With the ease of the digital age I use a voice recorder if I am overcome with inspiration.  Random thoughts that used to be scribbled on scraps of paper are now stored in my phone for easy access.  My calendar is on my iPhone and so is my shopping list.  Even with my creative stream, that long steady flow of blue ink has been replaced by the gentle tapping of the keyboard on my laptop.  I have finally been able to train my mind to tune out the incessant clicking and it no longer derails my train of thought.

What do you do?  Do you still give the ink a chance or are you a slave to your keyboard?

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.

 

Another world – Trifecta Challenge

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spiritguide

I cannot remember specific days but I do remember certain moments.  The moments you and I shared that were filled with love.  Moments that will have to satisfy me until we meet again.

~~

Written about the recent loss of my mom in response to this week’s Trifecta Challenge:

Without further ado. . .
SATISFY  (transitive verb) 1a : to carry out the terms of (as a contract) : discharge   b : to meet a financial obligation to

2: to make reparation to (an injured party) : indemnify

3a : to make happy : please   b : to gratify to the full : appease 4a : convince   b : to put an end to (doubt or uncertainty) : dispel 5a : to conform to (as specifications) : be adequate to (an end in view)

Remember:
• Your response must be exactly 33 words.
• You must use the 3rd definition of the given word in your post.

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.

Sometimes I forget to breathe

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forgetmenot

For those who saw my blog post on Tuesday, you’ll know that my mom passed away last Friday.

My mom was such a big part of my day-to-day life.  I find myself staring into space thinking about the precious time I had her in my life and those moments ahead that will feel so empty without her.  In those moments of recollection and sadness, my whole world seems to stop and sometimes I forget to breathe.  A large gasp of air pulls me from my reverie and I spend a few minutes just concentrating on inhaling and exhaling.  My world has changed.

I have received some lovely messages from family, friends in my physical world and friends in my writing world that have been very comforting.  Some of those messages offer hope from the perspective from those who have experienced the same loss and some messages offer condolences filled with grief for the thought of losing a mom.

I don’t think I will ever stop crying.   The moments that tears overwhelm me may become fewer and further in between, but the tears will never become non-existent.  And I’m sure as time moves forward I will just have to keep telling myself – one breath at a time, one day at a time.

Forget Me Not

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After my first breath I was placed in her loving arms and it was there I would always find the most comfort.  She was the first one to hold my tiny hand in hers and the first one to calm me as I cried.  She gave me life and now the only thing I can do is celebrate her life.  My mom passed away on March 7th, 2014.  I thought words would flood my brain to help release the pain of losing her but none would come until now.

forgetmenot

You left us in the early hours,

so peacefully your spirit would roam.

Through a gentle wind and the rising sun,

He called to take you home.

A ladder was built for your journey to light,

each rung meant to make you content.

While bathed in the glowing light of rebirth,

you gracefully began your ascent.

Loving arms awaited  you there,

curling you into their embrace.

Heaven welcomed an angel back home,

 rejoicing her love and her grace.

You leave behind your spirit and joy,

in those who loved you each day.

While our days will be saddened by the emptiness we feel,

we know we will see you someday.

~

Jane Eleanore Nairn – May 21, 1940 – March 7, 2014

Questions that beg the question

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People are nosy.  No, let me rephrase in a more eloquent way – people are inquisitive by nature.  No, I was right the first time, people are nosy.

I’m sure every single person on this revolving planet has a few people in their life who ask the most unprovoked and personal questions that are really none of their business.  It takes us off guard when it happens, but we do our best to maintain some composure before responding.  It never ceases to amaze me that people feel so compelled to ask for information that is quite obviously not for public consumption.  If it were, we would not repress the desire to shout it from the nearest rooftop.

What aberration of human nature makes people so interested in obtaining information that has no relevance to them whatsoever?  It is reminiscent of being back in school and being able to boast “I know something you don’t know”.  Clearly, if they were supposed to know,  they would.

My friends and I have had the same discussion on several occasions and it is a subject that we deliberate on at great length.  I’m sure I’ve been guilty of being nosy as well, I’m not presenting myself as unblemished, but I’ve also learned to recognize that part of myself and stop asking questions that are quite obviously beyond my security clearance.

I have also experienced the opposite side of that fence and had people impose questions on me that were outwardly challenging and highly personal.  Before gaining the upper hand that I now possess I would stumble, quite inarticulately, searching for a response.  Now, without losing the eye contact they seem so boldly willing to hold, I simply ask “Why do you want to know?”.    Color drains from their face more rapidly than a sun sinks into the horizon.  They are suddenly and unwittingly speechless.   They feverishly work to find a suitable retort that will explain their abandonment of common decency and their attempt to invade my personal privacy.  Most times my question abruptly ends the interrogation.

A phrase so simple, yet so effective will put them on the defence and put you back on the offence.  Stand your ground – you don’t have to tell them any more than you want them to know.

Lonely Boy – 100 Word Challenge

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We always find each other.  In each lifetime, on each plain of existence we come together again.  Our lives converge and our eyes meet.  We know we are two old souls being reunited and, with each meeting, the feelings become more intense.

But our timing is never perfect.  Each time fate brings us together the black keys on the piano play that melancholic refrain of longing.  It’s too late.  We both ignored the yearning from the past and forgot to wait.  But you are forever a part of my soul.

You are the lonely boy I carry in my heart.

~~

Written for the 100-Word Song Challenge at My Blog Can Beat Up Your Blog.  The song is Lonely Boy by The Black Keys.  (I even managed to get the band name in the story as well!!)

The wall remains the same – Trifecta Challenge

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My desires lay buried under a shroud of mistrust.

My resolve, firm.

Hidden feelings will be anchored there.

Not even the strongest of wills can worm the truth from me.

The walls remain.

~~

Written for this week’s Trifecta Challenge: Now on to the weekly challenge.  Remember, we’re now looking for exactly 33 words.
Good luck and happy writing!

WORM (transitive verb)

1a :  to proceed or make (one’s way) insidiously or deviously<worm their way into positions of power     — Bill Franzen>
 b :  to insinuate or introduce (oneself) by devious or subtle means
 c :  to cause to move or proceed in or as if in the manner of a worm
2 :  to wind rope or yarn spirally round and between the strands of (a cable or rope) before serving

– See more at: http://www.trifectawritingchallenge.com/#sthash.UzfsT4Xh.dpuf

If it’s broke, stop trying to fix it

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“Each relationship nurtures a strength or a weakness within you.” ~ Michael Murdock

Have you ever had that moment?  The moment when you hear a quote and it sums up an entire period of time in your life that you had yet to define?  I just had a moment very reminiscent of that.

My marriage was a great learning tool in the school of my life.  I do not hold any ill-will towards my ex-husband but there were moments early in the marriage that I knew our relationship could be the recipe for disaster.  I allowed myself to ignore those blatant warning signs, took the wrong turn and careened along the highway of our marriage at full speed.  The bumps in the road got worse as the journey continued.  Soon, I couldn’t even navigate the straight stretches of the journey without getting dizzy.  It was then I realized I was on the wrong road.

Everything about our time together nurtured my weaknesses.  It became easier, as time went on, to not confront those weaknesses and keep some peace in the house.  After several months of pulling in my head and playing “turtle” I began to realize some very important things, not only about him but, about myself.

After spending a lifetime trying to “fix” the broken people in my life, I succumbed to the fact that I couldn’t fix them.  My ex-husband and the roller coaster of our marriage made me realize that.  This relationship which flagrantly displayed my weakness in the past now nurtured my personal strength.  When I finally awakened to that reality, once that awareness had seeped into my brain, my resolve was filled with a growing sense of power.

I took that power and changed my situation, and my life.  That relationship which initially nurtured my weakness came full circle and devoted its influence to my strength.  I would never have fully appreciated that strength had I not been weak at that fork in the road.