With the Same Passion

Invisible

invisible

Love Notes

Between now and February 14th, I want to post one love note, quote or verse to my blog in honor of Valentine's Day.

Let go and let love.

Simply breathing

Terminal



We're Not That Different

 

“I laugh

I love

I hope

I try

I hurt

I need

I fear

I cry

And I know you do the same things too,

So we’re not really that different,

me and you.”

Colin Raye

Whispers of the Heart

Expressions of Soul

 

 

 

 



Yuletide Brings Longing

 

.... longing for what we miss
what we cherish
a longing for yesterday
a longing to hold on and never
ever
let go
a longing for a chance for a "do over"
to say what we wish we would have said
then
and would give ANYTHING
to say
now.

Familiar conversations
recalled over and over again in my head
then shutting my eyes to silence them
Choosing to suppress their surfacing
the longing...
unable to deal effectively
with the hole in my heart
just keep moving
smiling boldly
singing loudly
running feverishly from here to there
and back again
desperately trying
to mask the restlessness
of longing...


Distractions
redirect my helpless thoughts
traffic
chores
errands
music
children's laughter
simple pleasures
and sunsets
and warm crackling fires
and cardio
definitely cardio!


And when that inner storm of longing
subsides
and the lens comes into focus
I am forced
to count my blessings
shamefully certain
that I am indeed
blessed beyond measure and
knowing that
life
and love
will go on.

My heart warms as 
I hear the distant and soft melody
and I feel the
Wonder of Yuletide...
Christmastime
has come once more.

 

Christmas, my child, is love in action.

Every time we love,

every time we give,

it’s Christmas.

Dale Evans Rogers

 



Spanish Dreams

Your dreams

are your paints

The world

is your canvas

Believing

is the brush

that converts your dreams

into a masterpiece

of reality

 

Es tan corto el amor

y tan largo el olvido

 

Never Regret Anything That Made You Smile

While shopping in Blowing Rock in April, I saw a sign in a shop window with these words, and I snapped a picture of it.

I've recreated my own version with creative fonts and imagery.  When I read these words that day, time seemed to stand still for a moment.  They spoke to me deeply.

I thought of maybe painting a sign of sorts with these reminders to hang in my home or in my office.  

Because they make me smile.

Good Enough - Evanescence

I Write. Therefore, I Am.

"I shall live badly if I do not write,

and I shall write badly if I do not live."

-Francoise Sagan,

playwright and novelist

1935-2004

(This blog post of several months ago now inadvertently "republished.")

I remember as a young teenager keeping diaries, journals, not a daily thing, but when the SPIRIT MOVED me to write. I would write about feelings, events, family, accomplishments, relationships; a potpourri of seasons of myself punctuated with poetry, letters, and lyrics.

I remember buying hardbound journals at office supply stores for my writings, illustrating them from time to time with sketches, photos, mementos, ticket stubs, even pressed dried flowers.

From my early years, somehow I knew that "words" -- writing, in one form or another -- would become a meaningful and lasting part of my future, both in my personal life as well as my professional life. I seemed to have an insatiable desire to write, to document, to capture, preserve...

A means with which to memorialize the events of my life with a permanency.

As a mom to three sons, I suspect that I have become more introverted over the years. Gone is the urgency to converse, express, share or release outwardly. Let’s face it.  Guys don't say a lot.  They are often monosyllabic in their communication attempts.  Brevity is the objective.  The less you say, the better.   The necessity to talk just to fill the void of silence?  Nah.  To speak just to "take the stage?"  Nah.  No need.  In our house, if you don't have something really important to say, then you just don't say much at all.   Details are the clashing cymbals of conversation.

I will often compare my reticence to other women. Regardless of their age, they all seem to prattle on far more than I care to. Fascinating.  At times it seems their loquaciousness goes on and on and on... And on.

I frequently will find myself scrambling to process in cliff-note fashion their circuitous conversations.

It can be challenging.  It's all I can do to suppress the urge to say:  "Hold up! Hold up...."

Just give me the gist.

Is there a point to any of this?

Am I supposed to be impressed by that?

Do you have something to say? Really?

Or do you just, um, enjoy hearing yourself talk?

Maybe that is why writing has evolved into an even stronger release for me.

I don't need anyone to "hear" me.  Or to listen particularly.  Or to pass judgment, compliment, criticize, or compare.  I just want to get my thoughts out of my brain, my head, my heart, and onto paper. Unleashed into a repository.  I just need to write it down.  Freedom to purge.

Cleansed. Emptied. Defragged.  It lends a sharper focus to my inner perspectives.

Fast-forward to the 21st century.  My journaling now is done via the World Wide Web.
I'm a blogger.
(I've never liked that word.)

Writer

Scribe
Reporter
Wordsmith

Okay.  All of these work too.

writer - n.

1. A person who composes with language.

2. A person engaged in writing books, articles, stories; a clerk, scribe or the like

3. A person who commits his or her thoughts, ideas, etc., to writing.

All that matters is that I write. I write; therefore I am ...

 

This is To Have Succeeded

Beginning Today...

Another reminder to exhale...



Excerpts:  By Penny White

Beginning Today

I will look in the mirror and I will see a
person worthy of my respect and admiration.
This capable person looking back at me is
someone I enjoy spending time with and someone
I would like to get to know better.

Beginning today

I will cherish each moment of my life.
I value this gift bestowed upon me in this world
and I will unselfishly share this gift
with others. I will use this gift to enhance
the lives of others.

Beginning today

I will take a moment to step off the beaten path
and to revel in the mysteries I encounter.
I will face challenges with courage and
determination. I will overcome what barriers
there may be which hinder my quest for
growth and self-improvement.

Why Do We Cry?

Sometimes our emotions overcome us and we have no recourse but to release.

And we cry.

Because we must.

And because it washes the bad away...at least for a while.

An emotional purging, cleansing.

A time to cry.

Seth: Why do people cry?
Maggie: What do you mean?
Seth: I mean, what happens physically?
Maggie: Well... umm... tear ducts operate on a normal basis to lubricate and protect the eye and when you have an emotion they overact and create tears.
Seth: Why? Why do they overact?
Maggie: [pause] I don't know.
Seth: Maybe... maybe emotion becomes so intense your body just can't contain it. Your mind and your feelings become too powerful, and your body weeps.

~~ From CITY OF ANGELS

Memoria De Facto

Letters are among the most significant memorial a person can leave behind them.

  ~Johann Wolfgang von Goethe

As I was searching my office today -- my desk, files, boxes -- I came across several letters and cards I had received from friends, family, acquaintances.  Some were rather dated, at least by more than seven or eight years.  Some more recent.

As I opened the correspondence, my gaze fell upon the handwriting, hastening memories to me at the speed of light, instantly transported to my side by time and space and recall, placing the author in the forefront of my memory.  For that fleeting moment, while gazing at the handwriting, recalling the penned words, it felt as if I could hear their voice, touch them, hear them speak, or laugh, or cry.  I could feel their warm presence beside me.  I could see the life in their eyes through their penned words upon paper.  They were once more real to me.  Lasting.  Tangible.

I began to read with piqued interest, my heart warmed by this recall of memory.  Some of what I read made me laugh.  Some made my heart hurt.  Some even annoyed me.  Others sparked memories long forgotten.

Since my mother's passing over a year ago, I have come across letters, notes, cards that she had penned to me over the years.  Reading them now is far more meaningful than they could ever have been at the time they were first received.  I stop and stare at each word, each letter of the alphabet, and then read and re-read, again and again, until my heart is bursting, satiated by her loving words to me that I hold in my hand.

Far more meaningful than any email or digital correspondence, having a piece of paper that I can hold in my hand in a person's handwriting engulfs my heart and soul and shouts for attention.  Reverence.  Acknowledgement. 
It happened.  It's credible.  It's lasting.

SOMETIMES WE JUST NEED ASSURANCES.

It's why I so lovingly covet handwritten recipes that have been given to me over the years, some so stained from spills of ingredients that I can almost no longer read them.  Yet to reprint them or to retype them onto a nice, sterile recipe card would somehow seem blasphemous.  Countless scores of cards, letters, recipes, handwritten messages that collected over the years.  One might see them and label it "clutter."  But to me, they're precious memories, far too real and meaningful to ever part with for the sake of preserving order or prompting tidiness. 

Preserving these memories with care, simply to hold any one of them in my hand and witness the handwriting of its author, brings to life once more sweet, subtle gestures of the heart from one human being to another, adding the de facto seal on each coveted keepsake.  Tangible mementos of the heart to keep alive forever and always. 

"The Word that is heard perishes,

but the letter that is written remains." 

 - Proverbs