Sometimes she wants it quick and dirty© REDCAT
Sometimes she wants you to take your time
The look in her eyes will tell you
How she wants to be worshipped tonight
“A professional writer is an amateur who didn’t quit.” —Richard Bach The Writer, when he was young and naive, thought that writing was easy. One would sit down, relax, think some stuff up, and then write all that stuff down. He did not understand what the big deal was. Why people talked about writer’s block […]The Writer: Episode #3 — irevuo
“There are only two ways to live your life.Albert Einstein
One is as though nothing is a miracle.
The other is as though everything is a miracle.”
Life is so full of wonder it hurts. So most people refuse to see it.
Instead of dealing with both sides of the coin.
That life is both awesome and awful.
Maybe that’s why we humans have such a need for one or another facet of the Divine.
I let my tears flow, my hearth and soul bursting with life.
I remember my amazement when I learned and understood that, YES the whole planet and every living thing on it belongs to ONE gigantic ecosystem.
How much awe I felt when biology taught me in how very many ways things could go wrong between conception and birth.
And still most children are born healthy.
The amazement at carrying, a growing, living being within you.
The awe and wonder to hold that child in your arms for the very first time.
The astonishment in seeing the child grow and learn, and realize you should be learning as least as much as the child.
The feeling of wonder at seeing true love and care in the eyes of another.
Love, Life, Nature, the Universe, our Reality is so full of beautiful, wondrous, amazing things. Yet most of humanity fail to connect and instead hide behind a busy rat-race and blue screens.
For Sherry’s prompt on Imaginary garden with real toads,
Weekend mini-challenge: ON WONDER
Watch what you feed your mind© REDCAT
You don’t want thoughts that darkness binds
Bright nourishment will repay you in kind
Books – new, old, contrary, relatable, shock full of ideas
Children – are here to teach
Dance – when mind, body and music connects, life flows
Loved ones – makes all heartache bearable
Nature – without our roots we’ll never know our reasons
Music – there is one for any mood
Poems – life through the looking glass
Words – quirky words used in a sentence puts a smile on my face
“One cannot think well, love well, sleep well, if one has not dined well.”― Virginia Woolf, A Room of One’s Own
For Susans prompt on Poets United Midweek Motif ~ The Food We Eat
I wonder if anyone still remembers – A Room with a View – the book or the movie. I wonder if I remember it well enough…
Rooms as symbols for society and its constraints. Views symbols for nature and freedom. Meaning rooms with views is a metaphor for being able to choose your own life freely.
I wonder if people still confuse it with – A Room of One’s Own – that classic feminism essay.
But I digress…
For years I had a dream of my own writing-nook. But as most of my dreams it has stayed ethereal through several residences. I’ve never felt the right to push the issue. My worthiness issues you know. And the fact that my writing was spotty and sporadic at best. So it never happened.
I’m trying to get out of this muddle, to cope with my PTSD and current depression, to change my life to something truly good for me. Not just wanting change. But using previous experience to make a plan, or several actually, and taking steps to fulfill those plans. Small steps, one after another, different from how I did before.
So one of my goals became to make myself a nook. And tonight I did. Claimed a corner in the house as mine. Changed everything about it. Put in a big comfy armchair to cuddle up in and write. Some green potted plants just because I like them. Good lighting. Everything I can need within reach. Notebooks, journal, planner, pens, pens, pens. And some candle holders for the ambiance.
When I was done and sat down in my chair. I experienced a sense of accomplishment I normally don’t feel in my private life. And I felt it without constant interruptions from inner negative voices.
There where even some positive ones, but don’t tell anyone. ;-)
So, NO, I sure as hell don’t have all the answers, but what I’m doing now seems to bring positive change, so I’ll keep at it. And keep looking for things I could be doing.
Do you have any suggestions?
Monday morning and I wonder what the week have in store.
Having a rare morning when I’m not the one dropping the kids off.
I left the weekly planning undone yesterday. I’ll still have to do that.
Because after my journaling, and all morning chores.
I found myself back at this post idea.
As I know several of you picked up on, I struggle, have always struggled, but hope to evolve past struggling, with self-worth, self-love, self-esteem, self-confidence…
That struggle are permanent damage from my lonely and loveless childhood. I’ve spent years dealing with in both in and out of therapy. And I thought I had a better handel on it. But apparently if I fall down the well of depression, all my old programming re-installs itself.
It’s a process and at times a frustratingly slow one, but since spring I’ve been trying to figure out how I got here, and how to get away from here. Since I’ve already experienced the mother of all fatigue syndrome depressions, coupled with my screwy history, and learning to live with permanent pain from whiplash. I decided during the summer, that actually I know quite a bit about getting myself out of a depression, and the fact that it is years since the last time means I should pat myself on the back for doing a stellar job under terrible conditions.
Which brings me back to being kind to yourself. To loving yourself.
Somewhere I ran across the idea to get yourself a new inner voice.
The Advocate. She, for mine has to be female, maybe a character from The Good Fight, but to each their own. Anyways, she/he/it would always be in your corner, always on your side against censors, critics and saboteurs.
I guess that people without my scars probably get an construct like this constructed along a loving childhood and adolescence.
So three weeks ago, I sat down one night and wrote how proud I where of myself for daring to share my poetry with the world. How humbled and grateful I am that others read, like and comment on my writing.
I did this precisely because my negative inner voices where making a loud racket, telling me how worthless I am, how my writing might be done by randomly hitting a keyboard, and so on…
And ever since then, I have reminded myself (probably daily) to be kind, and to appreciate myself. To give myself credit for all the thing I accomplish in a week.
I’ve also tried to seek out people and experiences to make me feel better. Everything from asking if I could join a bord game day, to extra walks in the autumn sun.
Has it helped?
Yes, a little. I am kinder to myself in thought. I have some extra impulse to be on my own side. But my advocate still has some growing up to do, before she alone can stand up too the army of mean critics.
Fall dawn, fog heavy
Mom, it’s like ghost’s everywhere
Light slowly diffusing
Fall morning, dewy clean
Mom, sugar-skulls are happy skeletons
Fog burns away
Fall lunch, sun warm
Mom, falling leaves sounds funny
Fiery fall trees
Fall afternoon, light golden
Mom, can we bake cinnamon-buns
Homely stove smells
Fall evening, dark falling
Mom, spooky bedtime story please
Hearth home warms
Fall night, full-moon rising© REDCAT
Mom, evoke blessings, cast protection
Sky-clad in ritual
Also posted to Poetry Pantry #496.
On a thick rug in front of a fire© REDCAT
Two bodies move in shared desire
Breath hot against each others skin
Two minds intent on what was once sin
Hands seems to leave fiery traces
Two sets of glowing enraptured faces
United in pleasure they attain climax
Two spent souls into afterglow relax