Rionna Morgan's Blog, page 6
May 8, 2012
You Say It, "I'm Beautiful!"
[image error]
Life Lessons from a Rodeo Queen
Lesson #2
It was years ago when I was in college. I had one of those
friends. One of those amazing girls who we are just
lucky enough to meet. And later to call a friend. She drove me crazy. She was loud and she swore and she said too many things way too fast. She asked too many questions and had too many opinions. And she was always late. Or early for tomorrow, she'd say. And then she'd laugh. One of those laughs that are so contagious you can't help but join in, no matter how annoyed.
One day I was having a down day. Now, looking back I don't even remember why. I don't remember what had happened to make me feel cruddy. That is not what I remember about that day. But, what I do remember is this...My friend, the girl who drove me bananas...saw me looking down at my feet as I walked along toward class.
She grabbed me by the arm, pulled me to the nearest bathroom and shoved me inside. And she said, I want you to learn how to do something right damn now! You look in this mirror and you say, "I am beautiful."
I laughed. Nearly disgusted at how silly that sounded.
"You do it," she said. "We aren't leaving until you do."
I looked at her. Glared at her. Rolled my eyes and said, "I'm beautiful." In the most pitiful way possible.
She said a really loud cuss word that had the girl in the stall behind us slink out without even a second glance. "You do it, and you believe it."
I shook my head. And took a deep breath. I looked in the mirror. I saw my friend's determined face and my irritated one. I saw her standing there supporting me instead of going to literature class. I saw her the way she would be years from then as a teacher--guiding others to believe in who they saw in the mirror.
I blinked and tried to ignore the tears forming. "I'm beautiful." I said with more conviction than the last time.
"I can't hear you! Come on!"
"I am beautiful!" I yelled. And I was too. I could see it. I could see the power that declaration had made upon my face. My eyes were brighter, my face more focused, my body more strong.
The beauty had nothing to do with the make-up I'd smeared on that morning, or the clothes I tried to pick out to make myself feel better. Those were hollow choices. The beauty came from me believing I was just that--beautiful.
More than a decade has passed since that day in the bathroom with my irritating friend. I have three daughters, a husband, a crazy cat and a son who all depend upon me. There have been many times I have looked in the mirror and crinkled my nose at the left-over baby pudge that's hanging around. I have gasped and leaned in as close as possible to see if I really do a gray hair!
[image error] But, I haven't forgotten what I learned. I've even been known to say it out loud once or twice--a week. It's a good thing to know. I've shared the lesson with my daughters. The nine year old is proud to say it. The six year old laughs and laughs. The 18 month old...just says "pitty". And that's enough for now.
So maybe the next time you stand in front of the mirror, and you feel like crinkling your nose for one reason or another, why don't you try saying, "I'm beautiful."
Stand up straight, tilt your head to one side and smile as you say it. You'll be amazed at how gorgeous you are.
[image error]
Life Lessons from a Rodeo Queen
Lesson #2
It was years ago when I was in college. I had one of those
friends. One of those amazing girls who we are just
lucky enough to meet. And later to call a friend. She drove me crazy. She was loud and she swore and she said too many things way too fast. She asked too many questions and had too many opinions. And she was always late. Or early for tomorrow, she'd say. And then she'd laugh. One of those laughs that are so contagious you can't help but join in, no matter how annoyed.
One day I was having a down day. Now, looking back I don't even remember why. I don't remember what had happened to make me feel cruddy. That is not what I remember about that day. But, what I do remember is this...My friend, the girl who drove me bananas...saw me looking down at my feet as I walked along toward class.
She grabbed me by the arm, pulled me to the nearest bathroom and shoved me inside. And she said, I want you to learn how to do something right damn now! You look in this mirror and you say, "I am beautiful."
I laughed. Nearly disgusted at how silly that sounded.
"You do it," she said. "We aren't leaving until you do."
I looked at her. Glared at her. Rolled my eyes and said, "I'm beautiful." In the most pitiful way possible.
She said a really loud cuss word that had the girl in the stall behind us slink out without even a second glance. "You do it, and you believe it."
I shook my head. And took a deep breath. I looked in the mirror. I saw my friend's determined face and my irritated one. I saw her standing there supporting me instead of going to literature class. I saw her the way she would be years from then as a teacher--guiding others to believe in who they saw in the mirror.
I blinked and tried to ignore the tears forming. "I'm beautiful." I said with more conviction than the last time.
"I can't hear you! Come on!"
"I am beautiful!" I yelled. And I was too. I could see it. I could see the power that declaration had made upon my face. My eyes were brighter, my face more focused, my body more strong.
The beauty had nothing to do with the make-up I'd smeared on that morning, or the clothes I tried to pick out to make myself feel better. Those were hollow choices. The beauty came from me believing I was just that--beautiful.
More than a decade has passed since that day in the bathroom with my irritating friend. I have three daughters, a husband, a crazy cat and a son who all depend upon me. There have been many times I have looked in the mirror and crinkled my nose at the left-over baby pudge that's hanging around. I have gasped and leaned in as close as possible to see if I really do a gray hair!
[image error] But, I haven't forgotten what I learned. I've even been known to say it out loud once or twice--a week. It's a good thing to know. I've shared the lesson with my daughters. The nine year old is proud to say it. The six year old laughs and laughs. The 18 month old...just says "pitty". And that's enough for now.
So maybe the next time you stand in front of the mirror, and you feel like crinkling your nose for one reason or another, why don't you try saying, "I'm beautiful."
Stand up straight, tilt your head to one side and smile as you say it. You'll be amazed at how gorgeous you are.
[image error]
May 3, 2012
Winning A Piece of Montana!
April 2012 - Winner!!
Congratulations to "The Secret Writer!"
Very mysterious, yes. But very friendly and fun as well.
The Secret Writer has won a beautiful hand blown glass piece from Aspen Hot Glass in Corvallis, Montana.
My new friend, The Secret Writer is described in the following fashion:
"I suppose this is always the hardest part, telling you a bit about myself. Where do you start and finish, being the quiet and modest type of a person that I am! My real name is Calum and I live in the UK. I
started writing when I was fairly young, but have only started to write seriously over the past number of years. I have written and had published, quite a few articles for a variety of newspapers, journals and corporate websites. I also write and publish book reviews and run a literay blog known as 'The Secret Writer'. I have always enjoyed reading and writing. My reading interests vary from historical fiction to the classics and also poetry! In reality I would read from most genres if a certain book particularly attracts my attention!"
I am sure Calum would enjoy having visitors. I've included a link here for you to do so!
http://www.thesecretwriterblog.blogspot.com
Thank you, The Secret Writer for entering to win your lovely Piece of Montana!!
All the Best,
Rionna Morgan
For those interested, another drawing will be held at the end of May. This month's featured business is again, Aspen Hot Glass. They are an amazing family!
(Visit my Enter to Win link for more information on Aspen Hot Glass and future drawings).
Source: sonshyne.com via Rionna on Pinterest
Congratulations to "The Secret Writer!"
Very mysterious, yes. But very friendly and fun as well.
The Secret Writer has won a beautiful hand blown glass piece from Aspen Hot Glass in Corvallis, Montana. My new friend, The Secret Writer is described in the following fashion:
"I suppose this is always the hardest part, telling you a bit about myself. Where do you start and finish, being the quiet and modest type of a person that I am! My real name is Calum and I live in the UK. I
started writing when I was fairly young, but have only started to write seriously over the past number of years. I have written and had published, quite a few articles for a variety of newspapers, journals and corporate websites. I also write and publish book reviews and run a literay blog known as 'The Secret Writer'. I have always enjoyed reading and writing. My reading interests vary from historical fiction to the classics and also poetry! In reality I would read from most genres if a certain book particularly attracts my attention!"
I am sure Calum would enjoy having visitors. I've included a link here for you to do so!
http://www.thesecretwriterblog.blogspot.com
Thank you, The Secret Writer for entering to win your lovely Piece of Montana!!
All the Best,
Rionna Morgan
For those interested, another drawing will be held at the end of May. This month's featured business is again, Aspen Hot Glass. They are an amazing family!
(Visit my Enter to Win link for more information on Aspen Hot Glass and future drawings).
Source: sonshyne.com via Rionna on Pinterest
April 28, 2012
Remember the Lipstick
Source: Life Lessons from a Rodeo Queen
[image error] Lesson #1
I have learned that no matter what wild thing is going on in my life, if I pause and put on a bit of decoration, a bit of lipstick, I feel more beautiful...
I have four children ranging from 19 years old to 19 months. Sometimes all I can do in the morning is manage to brush my teeth and hide my hair under a large-toothed clip. And, honestly, that's if I'm lucky.
I put on my yoga pants fully intending to go through my much loved routine, but alas, no yoga for me. I try to find socks that match in my daughter's drawer because she's forever taking mine.
I rarely get to drink the coffee or the tea I so meticulously make in the morning. By dinner time, it is just sitting on the counter, lonely, where I left it at 7:00 a.m. so I could chase Miss Molly around the living room.
By 3:00 p.m. when it's time to pick up my other daughter from school, I'm a frenzy of activity, trying to find my shoes, because the tiny one walked off with them. I stop to look in the mirror on my way out the door and see my hair has come loose from it's hurried early morning imprisonment. Of course it did! Why wouldn't it.
I love going to town looking like a scarecrow with too much straw for hair and mismatched socks wearing my husband's sandals because they were the only shoes I could find!
But, I know that my secret weapon is in my car, waiting for me. It's a simple shade of red; a lip stain that brushes on my lips like a refreshing tonic. I take a second only to pull down my visor, crane my neck to look in the miniature mirror where only my lips are visible. I apply the lipstick and smile.
My lips are pretty. My lips are kissable. I feel beautiful.
[image error] Lesson #1
I have learned that no matter what wild thing is going on in my life, if I pause and put on a bit of decoration, a bit of lipstick, I feel more beautiful...
I have four children ranging from 19 years old to 19 months. Sometimes all I can do in the morning is manage to brush my teeth and hide my hair under a large-toothed clip. And, honestly, that's if I'm lucky.
I put on my yoga pants fully intending to go through my much loved routine, but alas, no yoga for me. I try to find socks that match in my daughter's drawer because she's forever taking mine.
I rarely get to drink the coffee or the tea I so meticulously make in the morning. By dinner time, it is just sitting on the counter, lonely, where I left it at 7:00 a.m. so I could chase Miss Molly around the living room.
By 3:00 p.m. when it's time to pick up my other daughter from school, I'm a frenzy of activity, trying to find my shoes, because the tiny one walked off with them. I stop to look in the mirror on my way out the door and see my hair has come loose from it's hurried early morning imprisonment. Of course it did! Why wouldn't it.
I love going to town looking like a scarecrow with too much straw for hair and mismatched socks wearing my husband's sandals because they were the only shoes I could find!
But, I know that my secret weapon is in my car, waiting for me. It's a simple shade of red; a lip stain that brushes on my lips like a refreshing tonic. I take a second only to pull down my visor, crane my neck to look in the miniature mirror where only my lips are visible. I apply the lipstick and smile.
My lips are pretty. My lips are kissable. I feel beautiful.
March 30, 2012
Just a Little Longer
They had nothing to say to each other. The time for any speaking had already passed. Now here they were, at the end of all things. In the dim light of the hospital room, the wife curled her fingers around the quiet, cool ones of her husband.
She couldn’t see beyond the tears. There was nothing to see as it was. They had walked all the paths of their life together and instead of looking forward to the new path she’d take without him, she looked back.
There had been the greatest of joys. The births of their children, the giggles they made as they learned to walk and run and play. The pride they felt together when they saw their children step out onto the path that they would walk, leading them to the futures in their lives.
There had been the greatest of adventures. Standing on the Cliffs of Moher looking out across the world, feeling the winds of the ages fiercely blow across their faces. Jumping, shrieking from an airplane, soaring on the currents, falling towards the earth, landing always together in the arms of each other.
There had been the greatest of sorrows. Saying goodbye to the dearest ones, their parents, their friends, even a child. The dark, cold nights standing hand in hand by the graves, wishing to hear their voices just once again.
She knew she couldn’t go on without him. She knew there be no good found in tomorrow if she tried. Her friends had faded with time and distance. Her children had children of their own. The lonely house on the hill was all that waited for her.
She crawled up on the bed beside him. Her body shook with pain. His last breath, he’d taken, yet she searched for warmth in vain. Couldn’t I just close my eyes and drift away with him? Can’t we travel that next journey together. It hasn’t been that long. Won’t you come back and take me with you. Wait for me. I’m coming.
Yet, she looked up and in the saddened shadows of the room saw a drifting, glowing magic surrounding his earthly form. He smiled that blessed smile, the one that had coaxed her heart into loving so many years ago. “But don’t you remember, we promised to see other again. In the next life, in the next journey, I’ll be there waiting for you. At the rising of the moon, at the setting of the stars, I will be there. We will meet, we will remember, we will love and live again.”
“Okay. Okay,” she said. “Just a little longer. I’ll stay just a little longer.”
February 2, 2012
RED
It was the red that made her do it.
The rebellious red of her toenail polish--the color she wore the day she slammed the door on her father’s yelling voice and slipped into the driver’s seat of her souped-up red corvette. Leaving a rooster tail of red Oklahoma dirt flying as she pulled out of the drive.
The loving, strength red of her mother’s ruby ring wrapped around her finger. The only remnant she has of the rosy memories of her childhood before her mother’s death.
The ripping pain, shredded life red of the blood soaking her shirt. Her rebellious nature, her stubborn will had made him mad again. And this time--the only time--he’d hit her.
She tucked her babies safe in their seats and started the car.
She went back in to finish what he started. She pulled a box of matches from the cupboard. She struck one and let it fly.
She could hear the red flames crackle as she walked away.
At the first red light, she made a plan. Her long blond hair would turn to red. She’d find a new town, a new life, a safe place for her babies.
Looking into the rear-view mirror, she trembled a bit as the red fire truck flew past, sirens blaring. Her babies were safe. Their soft red curls formed halos around their heads as they slept and dreamed the easy dreams. She smiled and pressed the red of her lipstick against her mouth.
January 29, 2012
Artists of the Written Word
"Every word you write is a decision. The more decisions you make, the easier they become."
--Paul Raymond Martin
So true! I know I have sat for hours looking at my screen, walking the paths around my home, gazing into the mirror, brushing my teeth--all while searching for the perfect word--not the right word--the perfect word. It is the perfect word we all want. We want the word that shows in just a few syllables the picture in our mind.
We are artists of the written word. The perfect word is our paint brush, our crimson, our canvas.
Good luck to us all as we journey in search of the perfect morpheme.
