Cynthia A. Morgan's Blog, page 104

Youth Sports — Love With A Capital L

The subtitle for this post is “An Argument for the Abolition of Competitive Youth Sports,” because I can’t think of any reason for this dinosaur to continue to exist, infecting generation after generation. [Full disclosure; I grew up playing baseball, from the time I was 8 through college, now my children play, and I’ve coached […]

via Youth Sports — Love With A Capital L

One of my very good friends recently opened a blog here on WordPress and wrote this Inspiring post.  Please stop by and pay him a visit. Im sure you’ll love reading what he has to offer

Ebon Leviathon – #VisuallyLyrical #Poetry

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~Morgan~

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Beautiful Image found on Pinterest

When – #poetry of #love and #spirituality

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When ‘last the Light Escapes night drear,

Tis then Morn’ Stands upon the Mountain

And Jocund Day Waits, tiptoe, for Intent;

While Promise ‘pends upon the Balance.

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When Yore consumes the Unsullied year

With rash and tainted Fervor,

‘Tis then foreboding haunts the darkness

And Muses Wait upon the Morrow.

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When Twilight ‘parts with Fleeting shadow

And dark descends like the Immortal cowl,

Then my Soul Sighs Deep and Long

For the loss of all it once Held Dear.

~Morgan~

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Beautiful Images found on Pinterest.

The Glow – A #Holiday #Meditation of #Hope

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The Holidays are a splendid time of year, filled with cheer, giving, kindness and benevolence we might otherwise neglect to employ; yet, it is also a time of year when many look through the glitter and sparkle and see only shadows of what used to be. Memories can be a funny thing. Though they are of happy hours, they can make us sad; and although they are of joyful moments, they can bring us tears. This holiday season I find myself understanding these conundrums more than ever before as I look around my festively decorated home and find myself missing one who loved this season of the year more than any other. I sit quietly staring at the place she used to sit and long to hear her laughter ringing through the house once more.

Nevertheless, she and those whom you may miss, would Never want us to be sad and would not want one sparkling, shining moment of this Blessed Season to find diminishment, particularly in missing them. Are they not near in every glittering ornament on the tree and through ever gladsome song? Do they not smile through the glow, a sweet reflection of the radiance of where to they have gone that reaches out to touch our quiet hearts? Should we not remember that we are never truly alone when Love has touched our lives and remembers?

Now, you may have other beliefs and you may not entirely agree, but when Love smiles upon us, I believe we should pause to smile back. Perhaps if we did so more often, the darkness of this world would be a bit brighter. Perhaps it might glitter and sparkle like the lights of our countless holiday ornamentation shining out into the bleak winter night. Perhaps through our quiet smiles we might draw those lingering in the shadows into the light, if even for a moment, to bask in the glow and share a contented sigh.

Love is ever present. Not in some far removed, theological ideal, but in Us, should we choose to remember it and share it. A simple act of Kindness; a smile of consolation; an unasked-for generosity; or patience amid the chaos can share that Love in far more powerful ways that we ever may be able to imagine.

May The Glow of the Season Reach out to you through the darkness of these troubled times and fill your quiet world or rush and bustle with Peace and Joy!

Happy Christmas!

~Morgan~

Beloved – #Love #poetry

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Long I have Embraced you,

Solemn and Silent

In the Restless winds of Life

And

Through the Tranquility of night.

Long I have Considered you,

Entwined by my Embrace

As the north wind howls

And

The shifting hands of Time turn.

Long shall I Surround you

As day ever Turns to night,

While the Heavens spiral overhead

And

Shadows grow in the Glimmering Twilight.

Long

Oh Beloved One

And Longer still

Shall this Love Breathe

And

Remember.

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~Morgan ~

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Beautiful original photograph found on Pinterest. Credit Gratefully Acknowledged to the original photographer. Thank you~

A Thankful Heart – #Thanksgiving #Blessing

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A Thankful Heart is Open to Blessings

because it is closed to worry, doubt, and wailing.

A Thankful Heart is Filled with Love

because it empties itself of loathing, greed, and envy.

A Thankful Heart is Overflowing with Peace

because it does not Share itself with lies, distrust, and negativity.

A Thankful Heart Touches Others with its Blessings and Love

because it is Ever in the Presence of Love and Blessing.

A Thankful Heart Speaks in Kindness, Patience and Empowerment

because it does not Speak of hate, intolerance or to incapacitate.

A Thankful Heart Chooses its Path Each Day with Diligence and Joy

because it does not Concentrate on what it cannot do.

A Thankful Heart Walks in Hope, Love, Peace and Joy

because it Knows nothing else.

A Thankful Heart Shares its Purpose

because it is Incapable of Withholding All that Pours from its Abundant Profusion.

Embark upon Each New Day with a Thankful Heart

and You will Find Endless Blessings for which to be Thankful.

You are a Blessing for which I am very thankful.   Happy Thanksgiving everyone. 

~Morgan~

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Beautiful Image found at: plattform.com

The Conversation of Transformation – #MeditativeThinking & #Spirituality

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Speak in tones that are Hushed and Still,

In Quiet Transition and Lingering Blaze,

While the Quickening Breeze lends a corporeal Thrill,

The Luster of Autumn’ Sweet Golden days.

Cherry-cheeked apples fill cask and crate,

While pumpkins Smile a toothless Grin,

Crimson and Russet Dance in Unified State,

While Garden Spiders Laboriously Spin.

These Restful Days all too Fleeting Pass,

As November Strides in with hoarfrosts Waiting,

Shifting life’s waters as a looking glass

Finding Reflection, Perfection Creating.

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In the glorious shimmers and russet tones of Autumn, we revel in warm colours and sweet scents; tempting our pallets with tantalizing spices as the lush splendour of summer transforms into the stillness of winter. Colours fade like the hours of daylight diminishing; Shadows lengthen in the clustering dimness, and as the frolicking jubilee of summer settles into the quiet repose of winter I find myself considering how very much like Life are these transitions.

Autumn brings the shifting season of life into sharp detail for me, much like the colours of Fall. The gentle transformation from taxing summer to seductive autumn encourages me to reflect and allow Change the opportunity to whisper of new and different possibilities. A season of transformation, Autumn reminds me that internal alterations are often as necessary and Life-Renewing as external ones. It suggests that how I relate to the world, as well as to myself through Mind, Spirit, and Body, can be as ever-changing as the seasons.

As simply and as beautifully as leaves transforming from glorious green to radiant umber and glittering gold, that which makes us reflective and opens our minds to possibility speaks to each of us. It’s a conversation, not a lecture. A chorus meant to be shared. A rhyme intended to be enjoyed. So in this magnificent season of transformation, when colours are converting and all of nature prepares for renewal, perhaps we should pause as well, breathe deep, and open our thoughts to the conversation waiting all around us.

We might be surprised by what we hear!

~Morgan~

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Beautiful Original Artwork: Autumn Farm by Paul Landry

#Halloween #FlashFiction – Grave Choice

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Weariness overcame me. Darkness spiraled up from the pit of my stomach, engulfing me, pulling me under, surrounding me. I struggled against it, trying to breath in the suffocating murk, but, like a hypnotic spell, I could not resist the tugging blackness encroaching on my thoughts. Sleep leapt upon me, like a tigress with claws bared, sinking them into my flesh, penetrating deeply, inescapable.

Quiet. Blackness. Sinking. Strange sensations scathed over me. Heaviness. Lightness. Breaking through. Crashing in. Calm tranquility mixed with ethereal panic that left me searching the dimness frantically, but for what I did not know. Light? Breath? Heartbeat?

All was silent. All was Dim.

Fear crashed in on me; a thousand boulders tumbling on my body from out of the dingy night sticking to me, pounding over me without mercy and without ceasing, yet I did not fall. There was no pain, only fear devouring me in the darkness. Echoes of thought whispered from the ebon vastness around me; voices once so bright, filled with life, now empty, hollow, soundless.

What happened to the life that was inside me? Where did my vibrancy go? Try as I might, I could not draw a single breath and the sensation of existing without it was terrifying. Brackish water sloshed around my feet, pouring in from the edges of the darkness, splashing upwards in a slow, inescapable progression; yet my feet felt nailed to the place where I stood. Unable to run, I searched the emptiness around me, horrified to watch the slogging water sucking upward around me, encasing me in icy coldness.

Where was the Light? Wasn’t there a Tunnel of Light? What happened to all the preaching and teaching and reaching from Heaven? Shadows began to move in the deep darkness, slinking towards me in a haze that filled me with dread. Sounds like ravenous animals gnawing bones began to filter through to me. Screeches and cackles more horrendous in sound than any tale from the crypt I had ever heard. Insidious laughter mocked my struggles as I fought to escape the unrelenting icy embalmment closing around me.

Then all went silent as a single voice spoke from the darkness staining itself crimson over my head. I listened, aghast at the familiarity of the tone and inflection. It was my own voice. It was me, speaking out of the past to haunt my own soul and as I listened, bitter tears slipped down my pallid cheeks, falling into the freezing water encircling my chest, my neck, sloshing upward over my chin, my nose, consuming me.

“I have everything I could ever want or need. I’ve got more money than I know what to do with, more influence than I know how to use, and more friends than I can count. ……………

What do I need God for?”

~Morgan~

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Stirring Image by: ariagne-stock at deviantart.com

The Avenue- #poetry of #spirituality and #lore

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The Avenue into After

Lies hushed and ever Still

Waiting in the heretofore

Beyond the mortal thrill,

Lingering in misty mires

Of yesterdays Unknowns,

Hollow shades of what if

Tumbling by Unshown.

The Avenue to Beyond

Whispers Softly of the time

When Beyond and Ever After

Walked hand in hand

With Rhyme.

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~Morgan ~

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Beautiful original photograph found on Pinterest. Credit Gratefully Acknowledged to the original photographer. Thank you ~

Memory – #poetry

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Memory speaking

Without a word

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~Morgan ~

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Beautiful original photograph found on Pinterest. Credit Gratefully Acknowledged to the original photographer. Thank you ~