Getting back my sense of self

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For the first time in a long time I walked through my house tonight and found I was smiling.  I wasn’t reliving a memory or anticipating an upcoming event, I was just….happy.

I hadn’t realized how much of my happiness had been consumed by reality until the corners of my lips were turned upright for no particular reason.  After all the tension I have experienced over the last couple of months, I was sure those muscles had atrophied and would require intense physiotherapy to get the full range of motion to return.  The degeneration of joy was paralyzing.

But I am once again finding beauty in my surroundings because stress no longer abrades my senses.  The scent of lilacs permeates my nose as soon as I step outside and the sounds of the creatures of the night soothe me with their harmonic tones.  And after many nights of being unaware of the true depth of my melancholy, I am now able to appreciate their symphony and realize that my true bliss has returned.

My words flow more freely now because they are no longer trapped in a smoldering vat of fermenting unrest.  My brain is at ease and my creativity flows in small streams until it culminates at the mouth of the river.  Those ideas trickle along the banks of my mind.  Each drop of inspiration is collected, it pools and eddies at the precipice until the words spill uncontrollably over the crest of rock and create a waterfall of language and expression.  That waterfall is my release.  That rapid flow of ideas is my heaven.

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(image credit: commons.wikimedia.org)

I have slowly re-acquainted myself with the things that I hold dear.  I have learned to let go of the stress and spend time each day making new memories and not just relying on recollections of my past to satiate my need for happy thoughts.  I have regained my inner compass.  I have reclaimed my sense of self.

The voices in my head

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The voice in my head has a British accent.  I’ve never questioned it because she has certainly given wise advice over the years, but when I hear the words spoken in my head, she always has the same accent.  She is not the only voice I hear, but she is certainly the most dominant.

I’ve never questioned her intelligence or her integrity.  And though some may say it is my own voice that I’m listening to, I know the voice comes from somewhere beyond my realm of reality.  I believe in spirit guides.  I believe that although a soul is not attached to a physical body, they roam among us and attach themselves to certain earthly lives.  They give us sage advice when we are prepared to listen or they may just keep us company on our journey through life.

spiritguide

(image credit: acelebrationofwomen.com)

Some refer to the feeling as intuition or even divine breath.  Some call it a gut feeling.  Regardless of what we name it, the feeling is the same.  You inherently know that a decision is either right or wrong and whether you have heard that voice in your head or felt the feeling in the pit of your stomach there is an outside force helping to point you in the right direction.

Some have the ability to understand the message and heed the advice.  Others choose to ignore the signs and forge ahead, mindless of any consequence.  It is up to you to listen – to understand that the compelling feeling of having some hand from above reaching to help you is not your imagination.

Stealthily they enter our lives and they yearn to give us perspective.  They want to help us think outside of the box we have voluntarily entombed ourselves in.  If we learn to cultivate our intuition we may find ourselves believing more in the helping hands that we cannot see.  Give yourself a moment to listen to that voice.  Let their breath of experience help fill you with the knowledge that your gut feeling is right.

My mother has never been a big believer in my spiritual theories.  But in the last couple of days she has admitted to feeling my father’s presence with her in the hospital watching over her and keeping her safe.  They do walk among us and only sometimes do they truly make their presence known.

Intention is nine tenths of the blog

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In this space we all strive to speak to an audience, to reach people on a level they understand and enjoy.  Our intention is to enlighten or amuse, to shock and  impact our readers, or to simply free the voice in our head.  Regardless of why we are here, we want to write.  We want to put our words into the world so people will read them and come back wanting more because something we said reached them on some unspoken level.  We want to feel that some part of our psyche left an indelible imprint on their brain and they connect with our words in a multitude of ways.

We write for different reasons and we write in unique voices, but within the vast forum of the blogosphere there is a common thread that binds us all – we write.  We may compose those words for a variety of reasons and our passions may be fueled by different fires, but we all burn with same intensity.  Sometimes those flames completely engulf us and we are overwhelmed by the fury of the fire.  And sometimes those embers simply lay in wait, still, with the hope of becoming a fire and requiring the strike of an idea to rekindle that pyre of words.

fire

My intention when I started this blog was simply to write.  What I didn’t expect was to encounter the myriad of people who enrich my life with their words.  I didn’t anticipate the number of people who are rapidly becoming a staple in my day by simply doing what they love to do and by sharing their voices as well.  My voice has not been quelled, but amplified by the influence of those around me.  My fire, although burning at a steady pace, is not only sustained by their thought-provoking words, it is intensified by their true passion for putting words to a page.  For that my fellow bloggers and potential friends, I thank you.

The light of the fire still warms me.  It envelops me and hypnotizes me with the patterns in the flames.  My sleep is disrupted.  My moments of REM are becoming non-existent, but I accept that fate because my intention is to listen to the voices that rouse me from that slumber and give them the freedom to say what they want to say.  Let the fire burn.

The start of my writing journey – thanks Mr. S.!!

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Today’s Daily Prompt is – Tell us about a teacher who had a real impact on your life, either for the better or the worse. How is your life different today because of him or her?

There are always teacher’s that will stand out in my mind for various reasons.  My Grade 9 Geography teacher spoke in such a monotone voice, I almost failed the class because I could not train my mind to pay attention.  But the one teacher that will always stand out as the person who helped to create the person I am today is my Grade 6 teacher, Mr. Stimson.  He truly loved his students and it showed in his teaching.  His lessons were not all taught in the classroom and did not entirely come from a syllabus.

We learned to be respectful, we learned how to survive outdoors during his Wednesday cookouts and we learned how to be decent human beings.  We learned that learning was fun.  His class was our first real introduction to creative writing and I never looked back.  Several years ago, after a very lengthy teaching career, he retired.  I know many people of all ages who had the pleasure of being in his class and every single one of them refer to him as their favorite teacher.   Upon his retirement, I wrote this poem for him.  Thanks Mr. S!!

 Inspiration

Words of Inspiration

He stood at the front of the classroom, a smile upon his lips,

A comical expression on his merry face, hands upon his hips.

He led us through his rhyming lesson, many not paying attention,

But something he said piqued my interest and I delved into a creation.

A whirlwind of thoughts flew through my mind, eager to be set free.

Nobody knew before this moment, that there lurked a poet in me.

Words and phrases I’d never known, spoke music in my ear,

Expressing my feelings in a rhyming prose, and this I did not fear.

He encouraged us to be individuals, to learn, to absorb, to think,

And when we achieved these remarkable heights, he’d always be “tickled pink”.

He is the epitome of teachers, a leader to some and a friend in many ways,

And for his attention and encouragement, I wish to give him praise.

His words of inspiration, helped me to reach inside my heart,

To find out what I hold inside, that tells me and others apart.

I have a special gift, a creative flair, that is very much my own,

But without his help, his caring words, it’s something I’d never have known.

Be the change – a journey of self-discovery

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Today’s Daily Prompt was intriguing.  The question was posed –

What change, big or small, would you like your blog to make in the world?

It was a query that got my mind spinning.  I’d never really taken the time to think of my blog on a global scale, and that thought is extremely daunting.  Although my blog has reached readers on many continents (and I truly thank you all for following), it would be egotistical of me to think that my words could have any affect in the grand scheme of this ever evolving planet.

When I write, I am ensconced in a tiny living room, in a small town, in a very rural part of Ontario.   If the wind blows in the wrong direction, I lose power.  I’m sure if I sneezed with any velocity, I would be writing this in the darkness until the laptop battery ceased to exist and my creative world would be relegated to using the voice recorder on my iPhone to track my meandering thoughts.

Blogging for me has turned into a journey of self-discovery.  It may not make a change in this world, but it has definitely made a change in my world.  It has awakened a part of me that was hidden.  It has revealed a piece of my soul that was cowering from the possible reality that what I wrote may be of interest to no-one but myself.  But I forged ahead, because what I was writing was allowing me to truly be myself and giving me permission to uncover all of the things that I really wanted to say.

By following my passion, I evoked a change in myself.  I awakened my opinions, and within that awakening, I granted myself the indulgence to hold value in the things that were my truths.  I chose to not only put those words on a page, but to share them with whomever happened to stop by to read my thoughts.  Judgement aside, I wrote because I wanted to write.  I wanted to be the change in my world and discover how much of myself I was willing to share.  Even now, writing these words, I am overcome with emotion.  Tears fall as silent cries for the freedom I have given my words.

Perhaps by making that change in my world, I will, in turn, make a positive change on a grander scale.  Words can make me laugh, and words can make me cry.  And somewhere in the middle of those emotions is the true meaning of the language of writing.  Maybe the change I would like my blog to make on this world is to simply communicate to others to follow their passions, embrace their dreams.  Only you can know what will truly make you happy, and only you can be the change in your world.