Joyce M. Stacks's Blog: A Day In The Life of an Aspiring Author ....., page 10
February 2, 2014
All You Need Is Love .....
According to the Beatles lyrics, and I paraphrase …. “There’s nothing you can do that can’t be done. Nothing you can make that can’t be made. Nothing you can know that isn’t known. It’s easy. All you need is love ….” The iconic group was profiled on CBS Sunday Morning, and for once I was glad to be my current age. Though only on the cusp of those who can actually remember their arrival and subsequent impact, as a very young girl with a keenly developed sense of observation and a gift for introspection, I knew something big had occurred. Too young to be one of the screaming hordes of fans, I took to the records collected by my older sister, and with reverence I carefully placed the vinyl on the turntable and first discovered my love for ‘words’.
I’d never been particularly musically inclined, but as I poured over the backs of their album covers committing every detail to memory, I learned how words can combine in such a manner through a short number of phrases with the anticipated result of speaking to a heart and mind such as mine. The Beatles not only inspired countless numbers of musical artists who followed in their footsteps such as Chuck Berry, Johnny Cash and even Elvis Presley to name only a few, but also an entire generation who began to challenge authority, convention and the status quo. They changed the color of our world by daring to speak in a universal language much bigger than catching a wave or unrequited love, and they continue to inspire new generations of individuals who feel they have something valid to say fifty years after they first burst onto the scene.
In songs like ‘Eleanor Rigby’ they dared to address society’s lonely and downtrodden by creating snapshots of people’s lives who manage to keep going despite having failed to be noticed by pretty much everyone around them …. “All The Lonely People Where Do They All Belong ….” and in ‘The Long and Winding Road’ Paul McCartney dares to sing about the kind of obsessive love that leads down a long and winding road to a door that never opens for him, and yet in spite of the ‘pool of tears’ he’s cried, he keeps coming back for more. I – like so many others – have lived those lyrics in my heart and in reality. But on one of my favorite albums titled “Rubber Soul” the Lennon-McCartney duo dared to address an illicit affair, the anger that comes from being ‘lead on’ and the subsequent ‘imagined revenge’. Back in the sixties, things like affairs were happening, but like so many important issues, the whys were never appropriately addressed in acceptable society, therefore a meaningful conversation never took place.
However, in my most favorite of all the Beatles songs, “In My Live” the lyrics speak to the passage of time and how it invariably affects all of us. As I sit here typing this right now thinking back to all of my favorites, I realize back then I never saw myself as old as I’ve become, but as I look around me each and every day, I can’t help but notice the effects of time in the faces and minds of my elderly parents, my children now approaching middle age, my grandchildren who insist upon growing up despite my constant protests, the people who have entered my life to play various rolls then disappeared far off into the background, and the places that were once so important to me that either no longer exist or have changed to the point they are no longer recognizable. Just like our beating hearts time marches on, but we are reminded not to grieve for that which we have lost, because even with the passage of time as long as we still manage to hold on to those we love most – which is probably the greatest lesson of all – the effects of time are at least manageable, because people and our relationships with them are what keeps us going even when we temporarily lose our way. If we are fortunate to live long enough life will undoubtedly take its toll in any number of ways, but as long as remember ‘all you need is love’ then we can all continue to fight for another day.
I’d never been particularly musically inclined, but as I poured over the backs of their album covers committing every detail to memory, I learned how words can combine in such a manner through a short number of phrases with the anticipated result of speaking to a heart and mind such as mine. The Beatles not only inspired countless numbers of musical artists who followed in their footsteps such as Chuck Berry, Johnny Cash and even Elvis Presley to name only a few, but also an entire generation who began to challenge authority, convention and the status quo. They changed the color of our world by daring to speak in a universal language much bigger than catching a wave or unrequited love, and they continue to inspire new generations of individuals who feel they have something valid to say fifty years after they first burst onto the scene.
In songs like ‘Eleanor Rigby’ they dared to address society’s lonely and downtrodden by creating snapshots of people’s lives who manage to keep going despite having failed to be noticed by pretty much everyone around them …. “All The Lonely People Where Do They All Belong ….” and in ‘The Long and Winding Road’ Paul McCartney dares to sing about the kind of obsessive love that leads down a long and winding road to a door that never opens for him, and yet in spite of the ‘pool of tears’ he’s cried, he keeps coming back for more. I – like so many others – have lived those lyrics in my heart and in reality. But on one of my favorite albums titled “Rubber Soul” the Lennon-McCartney duo dared to address an illicit affair, the anger that comes from being ‘lead on’ and the subsequent ‘imagined revenge’. Back in the sixties, things like affairs were happening, but like so many important issues, the whys were never appropriately addressed in acceptable society, therefore a meaningful conversation never took place.
However, in my most favorite of all the Beatles songs, “In My Live” the lyrics speak to the passage of time and how it invariably affects all of us. As I sit here typing this right now thinking back to all of my favorites, I realize back then I never saw myself as old as I’ve become, but as I look around me each and every day, I can’t help but notice the effects of time in the faces and minds of my elderly parents, my children now approaching middle age, my grandchildren who insist upon growing up despite my constant protests, the people who have entered my life to play various rolls then disappeared far off into the background, and the places that were once so important to me that either no longer exist or have changed to the point they are no longer recognizable. Just like our beating hearts time marches on, but we are reminded not to grieve for that which we have lost, because even with the passage of time as long as we still manage to hold on to those we love most – which is probably the greatest lesson of all – the effects of time are at least manageable, because people and our relationships with them are what keeps us going even when we temporarily lose our way. If we are fortunate to live long enough life will undoubtedly take its toll in any number of ways, but as long as remember ‘all you need is love’ then we can all continue to fight for another day.
February 1, 2014
When a Type-A/Dominant/Alpha Male meets a Type-A/Submissive/Southern Belle ..........
She said, "I get you, and who you are excites me, thrills me, overwhelms me and blows me away. Do you even begin to understand how fortunate I feel to have found you? In a world of over 7 billion people, somehow you and I made a connection; albeit long distance up to now, but a connection all the same, and it is real, and important, because it speaks to matters of fate and predestination as if against all odds we were somehow meant to be. Add to that equation the fact that we came together and then fell apart and came together again then it seems even more uniquely ordained."
As a Type A you are driven, never comfortable with the status quo and always seeking to peer beyond the horizon at what lies above the tree line. You are an extreme perfectionist, therefore intolerant of mediocrity. You are several steps ahead of most of your peers, and as a result you’re sometimes – maybe even often times accused of being abrupt or cutting people off mid-sentence – not because you are rude, but because you get what someone’s trying to say even before they get it out of their mouths and you’ve already moved on to the next. You want what is best for the world and more often than not you believe you have the answers, consequently you grow intolerant of those who simply ‘don’t get it’. You have an appreciation for finer things and suffer no guilt for providing yourself with your creature comforts, because you work hard and see these things as a rite of passage. Conversely you are generous of heart and spirit and still believe collectively we can make the world a better place.
As a Dominant you are the sun and the rest of the universe revolves around you and your whims. A natural born leader, you know what you want, and you’re capable of making it happen if people would only get out of your way. Others look to you for guidance and often flounder in your absence. You choose to surround yourself with those who appreciate your talents and don’t question your vision, and needless to say you don’t suffer fools very well. Others are often jealous of your attributes, but at the same time they respect you and secretly want to be you.
As an Alpha you lead the pride of lions. The survival of the entire group rests wholly upon you, and you wear the responsibility well and proud. You provide food, shelter and protection, and instinctively the dominant male must choose the most worthy mate ….. if not for procreation in this case ….. then one who will at least provide the necessary care and support to make certain her paramour wants for nothing in his quest to create a better world. An Alpha understands that winning isn’t the only thing, it’s everything. When challenged he will crush his opponents, therefore securing his place for posterity. The only potential pitfall for a Type A/Dominant/Alpha is that his light can burn so bright it can be blinding, diminishing those around him to the point they become fearful and lose their way.
Now with regard to me …. I’ve already covered Type A, and this is how we are alike, probably more alike than you know, but with regard to being a submissive, I can honestly say that like being hetero or gay, this is something I did not choose. It has absolutely nothing to do with my gender and much more to do with my genetic chemistry. Just as there is male and female, there is Dom and Sub, and each component is needed to compliment and complete the other. Although lines of power are clearly drawn, one cannot fully exist without the other, therefore they are equal partners within the relationship. When it’s right and good, I can’t imagine a better, stronger partnership. Loyal, loving and devoted ….. timeless by design.
Now a word about being a ‘Southern Woman’. Just as the Alpha feels a sense of entitlement at birth, then so does the southern belle. She is smart, cultured and resilient. In good times she is the consummate hostess, and her mate’s secret weapon. In bad times she is resourceful beyond imagination …. see Scarlet O’Hara ….. and above all else she is well-mannered and charming even in the face of ugliness. She can make a point with a raised eyebrow and a silent stare, and she can solicit a following with the sway of her hips or the tilt of her head. More than anything, she is aware of her own personal power, and as such she uses it wisely. She is a velvet hammer, so when she delivers a blow, one may not feel the impact until she’s already left the room, and she is a steel magnolia …. soft on the outside, but tough as steel when that is what life requires. In a nutshell, that’s who I am … all woman, and one who never wanted to be anything but a woman.
I like being pampered, primping up for my man, being a homebody, thinking of ways to show you how much I love you, having a door held open for me, holding hands in public, being possessed, and put up on a pedestal. But in turn we southern gals hold our man to the highest of all standards. In tudor days, we were the damsel in the grandstand that knights battled over in a duel in hopes of winning her heart, and only the best man won. We value ourselves and know our worth, which is why a Dom/sub relationship with a misogynist would never fly, because this type of man seeks to diminish his partner to the point she can no longer think or act for herself. I will never be that woman, but then you would never ask me to be .....
As a Type A you are driven, never comfortable with the status quo and always seeking to peer beyond the horizon at what lies above the tree line. You are an extreme perfectionist, therefore intolerant of mediocrity. You are several steps ahead of most of your peers, and as a result you’re sometimes – maybe even often times accused of being abrupt or cutting people off mid-sentence – not because you are rude, but because you get what someone’s trying to say even before they get it out of their mouths and you’ve already moved on to the next. You want what is best for the world and more often than not you believe you have the answers, consequently you grow intolerant of those who simply ‘don’t get it’. You have an appreciation for finer things and suffer no guilt for providing yourself with your creature comforts, because you work hard and see these things as a rite of passage. Conversely you are generous of heart and spirit and still believe collectively we can make the world a better place.
As a Dominant you are the sun and the rest of the universe revolves around you and your whims. A natural born leader, you know what you want, and you’re capable of making it happen if people would only get out of your way. Others look to you for guidance and often flounder in your absence. You choose to surround yourself with those who appreciate your talents and don’t question your vision, and needless to say you don’t suffer fools very well. Others are often jealous of your attributes, but at the same time they respect you and secretly want to be you.
As an Alpha you lead the pride of lions. The survival of the entire group rests wholly upon you, and you wear the responsibility well and proud. You provide food, shelter and protection, and instinctively the dominant male must choose the most worthy mate ….. if not for procreation in this case ….. then one who will at least provide the necessary care and support to make certain her paramour wants for nothing in his quest to create a better world. An Alpha understands that winning isn’t the only thing, it’s everything. When challenged he will crush his opponents, therefore securing his place for posterity. The only potential pitfall for a Type A/Dominant/Alpha is that his light can burn so bright it can be blinding, diminishing those around him to the point they become fearful and lose their way.
Now with regard to me …. I’ve already covered Type A, and this is how we are alike, probably more alike than you know, but with regard to being a submissive, I can honestly say that like being hetero or gay, this is something I did not choose. It has absolutely nothing to do with my gender and much more to do with my genetic chemistry. Just as there is male and female, there is Dom and Sub, and each component is needed to compliment and complete the other. Although lines of power are clearly drawn, one cannot fully exist without the other, therefore they are equal partners within the relationship. When it’s right and good, I can’t imagine a better, stronger partnership. Loyal, loving and devoted ….. timeless by design.
Now a word about being a ‘Southern Woman’. Just as the Alpha feels a sense of entitlement at birth, then so does the southern belle. She is smart, cultured and resilient. In good times she is the consummate hostess, and her mate’s secret weapon. In bad times she is resourceful beyond imagination …. see Scarlet O’Hara ….. and above all else she is well-mannered and charming even in the face of ugliness. She can make a point with a raised eyebrow and a silent stare, and she can solicit a following with the sway of her hips or the tilt of her head. More than anything, she is aware of her own personal power, and as such she uses it wisely. She is a velvet hammer, so when she delivers a blow, one may not feel the impact until she’s already left the room, and she is a steel magnolia …. soft on the outside, but tough as steel when that is what life requires. In a nutshell, that’s who I am … all woman, and one who never wanted to be anything but a woman.
I like being pampered, primping up for my man, being a homebody, thinking of ways to show you how much I love you, having a door held open for me, holding hands in public, being possessed, and put up on a pedestal. But in turn we southern gals hold our man to the highest of all standards. In tudor days, we were the damsel in the grandstand that knights battled over in a duel in hopes of winning her heart, and only the best man won. We value ourselves and know our worth, which is why a Dom/sub relationship with a misogynist would never fly, because this type of man seeks to diminish his partner to the point she can no longer think or act for herself. I will never be that woman, but then you would never ask me to be .....
January 30, 2014
Pleasure .....
What a nice word ….. as in some word association game what’s the first thing that comes to mind when you hear the word pleasure, most people would undoubtedly shout out something that gives them pleasure …. sex, cooking, gardening, shopping, dining, writing, sports, entertaining …. but I believe in order to adequately understand the concept of pleasure, one has to peer beyond the obvious question of what gives me pleasure which is found only in the act of receiving, to a deeper meaning that can only be found in the art of giving.
While most people's focus is undoubtedly centered upon the 'receiving' of pleasure, a few more enlightened individuals direct their energies toward the giving of pleasure, but the narrowest category of all are those whose happiness, i.e. contentment, actually depends upon their ability to care for another as their only means of experiencing any real pleasure in life. As a result, when this one is deprived of that ability, it is as if they have been deprived of something vital to their survival. The same way food, water and sleep serve to nourish the body, then so does their need to serve. I suppose this is why some have called me an authentic, or natural submissive ….. because I fall into this last category, as I find it far easier to sacrifice my own personal needs as long as I’m able to see to the needs of others.
Last night, I watched a little of the movie "Eat, Pray, Love". I had seen the movie when it first came out, and I had obviously read and loved the book, but I’d forgotten the scene when Liz and her friends were discussing every place and person has a word …….. London/stuffy, Stockholm/conform, Rome/sex ….. when asked, Liz replied her word was “writer” and another said, “That’s what you do, not who you are.”
It started me thinking … what is my word? There’s many words I would like it to be ….. such as beautiful or sexy on a pure vanity level, but that’s not “me”…… then there’s kind or considerate on a more altruistic plane, but again not really “me”…….. then there’s the more self-deprecating and brutally honest terms like damaged, hopeless, chaotic ….. but in the end I decided it was nurturer, because service is what ultimately validates my existence.
This is why I do not fret over whether I can make a man or partner happy or not, because I already know I can. When you’re willing to do whatever it takes – without reservation – because it’s really not a matter of choice at all, but rather imperative in terms of my own personal fulfillment and pleasure, then it’s something you just know. This is not to say I won’t enjoy hours upon hours of receiving pleasure, because I already know I do, but my greatest pleasure will come from seeing another's reflected back to me through his eyes.
For now I’ve made my way over the hump …. Occasionally I have few bad days, but when I do, I allow myself to wallow in the emotion and experience the grief and reservations rather than trying to squash them down or run from them altogether. I constructively pour that emotion and doubt into my journals rather than act out in self-destructive ways and manners. Consequently, I manage to find my way back to a place of calm and complacency rather quickly by continuing to grow through my own experience.
Everyone should have a 'word' .... just like everyone should have a 'song' .... something that helps to define them and keep them on track when the world spirals out of control. One day I'll share my song, but not today .....
While most people's focus is undoubtedly centered upon the 'receiving' of pleasure, a few more enlightened individuals direct their energies toward the giving of pleasure, but the narrowest category of all are those whose happiness, i.e. contentment, actually depends upon their ability to care for another as their only means of experiencing any real pleasure in life. As a result, when this one is deprived of that ability, it is as if they have been deprived of something vital to their survival. The same way food, water and sleep serve to nourish the body, then so does their need to serve. I suppose this is why some have called me an authentic, or natural submissive ….. because I fall into this last category, as I find it far easier to sacrifice my own personal needs as long as I’m able to see to the needs of others.
Last night, I watched a little of the movie "Eat, Pray, Love". I had seen the movie when it first came out, and I had obviously read and loved the book, but I’d forgotten the scene when Liz and her friends were discussing every place and person has a word …….. London/stuffy, Stockholm/conform, Rome/sex ….. when asked, Liz replied her word was “writer” and another said, “That’s what you do, not who you are.”
It started me thinking … what is my word? There’s many words I would like it to be ….. such as beautiful or sexy on a pure vanity level, but that’s not “me”…… then there’s kind or considerate on a more altruistic plane, but again not really “me”…….. then there’s the more self-deprecating and brutally honest terms like damaged, hopeless, chaotic ….. but in the end I decided it was nurturer, because service is what ultimately validates my existence.
This is why I do not fret over whether I can make a man or partner happy or not, because I already know I can. When you’re willing to do whatever it takes – without reservation – because it’s really not a matter of choice at all, but rather imperative in terms of my own personal fulfillment and pleasure, then it’s something you just know. This is not to say I won’t enjoy hours upon hours of receiving pleasure, because I already know I do, but my greatest pleasure will come from seeing another's reflected back to me through his eyes.
For now I’ve made my way over the hump …. Occasionally I have few bad days, but when I do, I allow myself to wallow in the emotion and experience the grief and reservations rather than trying to squash them down or run from them altogether. I constructively pour that emotion and doubt into my journals rather than act out in self-destructive ways and manners. Consequently, I manage to find my way back to a place of calm and complacency rather quickly by continuing to grow through my own experience.
Everyone should have a 'word' .... just like everyone should have a 'song' .... something that helps to define them and keep them on track when the world spirals out of control. One day I'll share my song, but not today .....
January 27, 2014
Standing on Moral High Ground .....
Today was ‘quiet’ for a Monday. The biggest news to report …. it’s cold …. again! Every week or so we seem to get teased with splendid spring-like weather for a couple of days to the point I let my winter guard down then I wake to a cold slap in the face shocking me back to reality. After all it’s still January.
As I made my way through social media earlier today mainly looking to see if there were any messages in need of a response, I couldn’t help noticing a particular post regarding the opening of last night’s Grammy’s. One of my Facebook friends was slamming Beyonce and Jay Z’s performance even going so far as to say they are not artists, but cult leaders with millions of followers. I immediately began ticking off a response in my mind, but quickly decided not to dignify such lunacy with a reply, but sitting in front of my laptop right now, I’m struck by the fact that in order for someone to even qualify another as an artist – or not – they would have to first have an understanding, as well as an appreciation of what makes something art.
To me, art is anyone’s creative expression, whether that’s a five-year-olds representation of her home and happy family styled on construction paper with the aid of finger paints, Michelangelo’s statue of David, or a live performance of the play Hair on Broadway. Art is full of passion and sometimes that passion takes the form of ‘acting out’ in a seductive manner to the lyrics of a song titled “Drunk in Love”. After reading all the comments, I decided to go online and view the performance for myself, and all I saw was a sexually ‘suggestive’ performance played to an adult audience. This was the Grammy’s, not Disney or Nickelodeon. Jay Z sported a tuxedo, while Beyonce wore a fitted, long-sleeve, turtle neck teddy that accentuated her ample curves, but she was fully clothed down to her signature fish net stockings. There wasn’t even a single twerk! This is a couple who is obviously madly in love, wildly successful and abundantly talented, a real life power couple who knows how to play to their strengths, which is exactly why the Grammy’s chose them to open the show.
Often times those who are the first to cry ‘foul’ in this nation are the same people who claim to own the moral high ground. They insist they’ve cornered the market on family values and also feel duty-bound and self-righteous when campaigning for legislation deciding what a woman can and cannot do with her own body, but they disappear when it comes to finding workable solutions to combat incest and child abuse, not to mention finding good homes for all those neglected, abandoned and unwanted children.
I personally am not offended with overt sexuality when it is packaged in the right context and done tastefully. It is as natural a part of life as consuming food and drink and trying to sleep when we are tired. It has been part of life and living since the beginning of time and it’s not just for procreation anymore. The advertising industry coined the phrase ‘sex sells’ back in the sixties and we all buy into it on some level, whether it’s in the form of the shampoo or toothpaste we buy or the clothing we wear or the cars we drive. I find it a particularly interesting, albeit nonsensical paradox that some of the same people who so vocally defended Duck Dynasty’s Phil Robertson’s interview with GQ magazine where he slammed everything from women to gays, are the same ones to cast stones at Beyonce, even suggesting she and her husband were bad parents.
Well I have one question for all of the Bible-thumping do-gooders who sit back and criticize the rest of us more liberal, open-minded individuals who can appreciate a world full of art and artists who are often times ‘suggestive’ in their form of expression, “Why does finding Jesus have to equate with finding judgment as well?” Wasn’t it He who said, “Judge not that ye be not judged.”? In America we are fortunate to have choices, and sometimes the choice can simply be to change the channel. In terms of having something ‘better to do’ I’d like to suggest there’s probably a more constructive use of your time than spreading the hate across Facebook? Entertainment is and will always be subjective, which is why we need so many different outlets for relaxation, whether that be film, music, dance or even sports. Art in any form is what gives life its beauty and texture. It stirs our emotions and helps us think in broader terminology. We are not and will never be a ‘one size fits all’ nation and I thank God for that. It’s what makes America both unique and strong and why so many give their lives trying to join us. It’s okay not to like something, and when you find that’s the case, perhaps you should remember the words of your elementary teachers when they taught you that sometimes ‘silence is golden.’
As I made my way through social media earlier today mainly looking to see if there were any messages in need of a response, I couldn’t help noticing a particular post regarding the opening of last night’s Grammy’s. One of my Facebook friends was slamming Beyonce and Jay Z’s performance even going so far as to say they are not artists, but cult leaders with millions of followers. I immediately began ticking off a response in my mind, but quickly decided not to dignify such lunacy with a reply, but sitting in front of my laptop right now, I’m struck by the fact that in order for someone to even qualify another as an artist – or not – they would have to first have an understanding, as well as an appreciation of what makes something art.
To me, art is anyone’s creative expression, whether that’s a five-year-olds representation of her home and happy family styled on construction paper with the aid of finger paints, Michelangelo’s statue of David, or a live performance of the play Hair on Broadway. Art is full of passion and sometimes that passion takes the form of ‘acting out’ in a seductive manner to the lyrics of a song titled “Drunk in Love”. After reading all the comments, I decided to go online and view the performance for myself, and all I saw was a sexually ‘suggestive’ performance played to an adult audience. This was the Grammy’s, not Disney or Nickelodeon. Jay Z sported a tuxedo, while Beyonce wore a fitted, long-sleeve, turtle neck teddy that accentuated her ample curves, but she was fully clothed down to her signature fish net stockings. There wasn’t even a single twerk! This is a couple who is obviously madly in love, wildly successful and abundantly talented, a real life power couple who knows how to play to their strengths, which is exactly why the Grammy’s chose them to open the show.
Often times those who are the first to cry ‘foul’ in this nation are the same people who claim to own the moral high ground. They insist they’ve cornered the market on family values and also feel duty-bound and self-righteous when campaigning for legislation deciding what a woman can and cannot do with her own body, but they disappear when it comes to finding workable solutions to combat incest and child abuse, not to mention finding good homes for all those neglected, abandoned and unwanted children.
I personally am not offended with overt sexuality when it is packaged in the right context and done tastefully. It is as natural a part of life as consuming food and drink and trying to sleep when we are tired. It has been part of life and living since the beginning of time and it’s not just for procreation anymore. The advertising industry coined the phrase ‘sex sells’ back in the sixties and we all buy into it on some level, whether it’s in the form of the shampoo or toothpaste we buy or the clothing we wear or the cars we drive. I find it a particularly interesting, albeit nonsensical paradox that some of the same people who so vocally defended Duck Dynasty’s Phil Robertson’s interview with GQ magazine where he slammed everything from women to gays, are the same ones to cast stones at Beyonce, even suggesting she and her husband were bad parents.
Well I have one question for all of the Bible-thumping do-gooders who sit back and criticize the rest of us more liberal, open-minded individuals who can appreciate a world full of art and artists who are often times ‘suggestive’ in their form of expression, “Why does finding Jesus have to equate with finding judgment as well?” Wasn’t it He who said, “Judge not that ye be not judged.”? In America we are fortunate to have choices, and sometimes the choice can simply be to change the channel. In terms of having something ‘better to do’ I’d like to suggest there’s probably a more constructive use of your time than spreading the hate across Facebook? Entertainment is and will always be subjective, which is why we need so many different outlets for relaxation, whether that be film, music, dance or even sports. Art in any form is what gives life its beauty and texture. It stirs our emotions and helps us think in broader terminology. We are not and will never be a ‘one size fits all’ nation and I thank God for that. It’s what makes America both unique and strong and why so many give their lives trying to join us. It’s okay not to like something, and when you find that’s the case, perhaps you should remember the words of your elementary teachers when they taught you that sometimes ‘silence is golden.’
January 26, 2014
The Food Chain ......
This morning as I was rushing through my usual routine trying to make it out the door in time when I happened to notice a tiny little bug hurriedly making its way across the kitchen floor. As I quickly put away my dirty breakfast dishes and gulped down my vitamins, I made a mental note to watch my step so as not to inadvertently step on him in the process. I could have carefully placed him outside, which is what I’d usually do on such occasions, but this morning it was so cold out that I didn’t have the heart. All I could think is that we’re all struggling on the same food chain as we make our way through this life in an effort to try and survive, and although life has certainly been trying for me at times, I’m fortunate to reside at the higher end of the scale than that little bug, so why not show him some compassion in exchange for God’s graces.
As previously promised, earlier today I set aside some of my precious time to read a dissertation prepared by one of my LinkedIn friends outlining the progress being made in the South American country of Peru. Having made a number of trips down there in order to do his lengthy research, Robert’s piece was authentic in that it read much like a documentary as he outlined the path of progress forged by the ancient Incan civilization. Often thought to be the most advanced culture of its time, they were master engineers who constructed a road – the Qhapaq Nan – or “Inca Road” which spanned from North to South some 4400 meters across what could only be described as rough terrain. Unfortunately, their intelligence ultimately lead to their demise in that the brilliant passage they created for themselves to successfully expand their civilization also provided the Spaniards a channel from which to attack and conquer. It would seem in their efforts to master the dense interior the Inca failed to perceive their biggest threat would ultimately come from the outside.
If you then juxtapose what was once a thriving modern civilization against today’s Peruvian society, it’s rather sad ……. from corruption in government to lack of infrastructure, child labor and the threat of diseases like the bubonic plague – long since extinct within the American culture – I think there’s an important lesson to be learned from the example of Peru. They – like so many third world nations – are in transition, fighting to survive in a world whose mighty deck is stacked against them, but on some level all of us appear to be doing just the same thing, in that the choices we make as individuals ultimately determines the struggles each one of us will face in our life, thus leading to our own respective place on the human food chain.
As I stated recently, when you win something, you inevitably end up losing something else. It’s a foregone conclusion in terms of balancing want against need, greed against generosity and love against hate. Therefore with every accomplishment, we wind up creating a brand new vulnerability. Peru’s “Inca Road” may have created an advanced civilization, but it also provided safe passage to European invaders who asserted their might against them. I can’t help but worry that America’s dependence upon technology has created a brand new industry serviced by those who would seek to do us harm once our weak spots are determined. In terms of the big picture, the recent security breach at Target is probably the least of our long-term worries.
As the world’s largest economy by a long stretch, it stands to reason everybody is chasing us. As an individual – and one who is not even technologically savvy – I have no choice but to rest my fate as well as our nation’s on the brilliant people in charge, knowing they not only know the risk, but also ‘understand’ them far better than I. However it’s every American citizen’s responsibility to make certain Peru’s history doesn’t repeat itself on our shores, lest we risk losing all the freedoms we so cherish. Even with an economy that still lacks the stability we all deserve and the dysfunctional leadership in Washington, and even though cynicism has taken hold of so many minds in such a way I often find disturbing, and the fact that life has gotten so busy for all of us that we wind up carrying around far too much stress on any given day, even though we as a society still seek out and worship a perceived perfection in a hopelessly imperfect world, our country still maintains its foothold at the top of the world’s food chain, and as such, I continue to be one proud American.
As previously promised, earlier today I set aside some of my precious time to read a dissertation prepared by one of my LinkedIn friends outlining the progress being made in the South American country of Peru. Having made a number of trips down there in order to do his lengthy research, Robert’s piece was authentic in that it read much like a documentary as he outlined the path of progress forged by the ancient Incan civilization. Often thought to be the most advanced culture of its time, they were master engineers who constructed a road – the Qhapaq Nan – or “Inca Road” which spanned from North to South some 4400 meters across what could only be described as rough terrain. Unfortunately, their intelligence ultimately lead to their demise in that the brilliant passage they created for themselves to successfully expand their civilization also provided the Spaniards a channel from which to attack and conquer. It would seem in their efforts to master the dense interior the Inca failed to perceive their biggest threat would ultimately come from the outside.
If you then juxtapose what was once a thriving modern civilization against today’s Peruvian society, it’s rather sad ……. from corruption in government to lack of infrastructure, child labor and the threat of diseases like the bubonic plague – long since extinct within the American culture – I think there’s an important lesson to be learned from the example of Peru. They – like so many third world nations – are in transition, fighting to survive in a world whose mighty deck is stacked against them, but on some level all of us appear to be doing just the same thing, in that the choices we make as individuals ultimately determines the struggles each one of us will face in our life, thus leading to our own respective place on the human food chain.
As I stated recently, when you win something, you inevitably end up losing something else. It’s a foregone conclusion in terms of balancing want against need, greed against generosity and love against hate. Therefore with every accomplishment, we wind up creating a brand new vulnerability. Peru’s “Inca Road” may have created an advanced civilization, but it also provided safe passage to European invaders who asserted their might against them. I can’t help but worry that America’s dependence upon technology has created a brand new industry serviced by those who would seek to do us harm once our weak spots are determined. In terms of the big picture, the recent security breach at Target is probably the least of our long-term worries.
As the world’s largest economy by a long stretch, it stands to reason everybody is chasing us. As an individual – and one who is not even technologically savvy – I have no choice but to rest my fate as well as our nation’s on the brilliant people in charge, knowing they not only know the risk, but also ‘understand’ them far better than I. However it’s every American citizen’s responsibility to make certain Peru’s history doesn’t repeat itself on our shores, lest we risk losing all the freedoms we so cherish. Even with an economy that still lacks the stability we all deserve and the dysfunctional leadership in Washington, and even though cynicism has taken hold of so many minds in such a way I often find disturbing, and the fact that life has gotten so busy for all of us that we wind up carrying around far too much stress on any given day, even though we as a society still seek out and worship a perceived perfection in a hopelessly imperfect world, our country still maintains its foothold at the top of the world’s food chain, and as such, I continue to be one proud American.
January 23, 2014
Gravity ......
I’ve never had to observe an apple fall from a tree or throw a rock in order to witness its trajectory in an effort to confirm the existence of gravity, because every time my path begins to rise to a place where I can bask in the warmth of pure light and breathable air, here it comes again gravity, choking my lungs and pulling me back down to earth. Try as I might to break the cycle, it’s been ongoing for as long as I can remember, even dating back to my childhood. Oh, the stories I could tell….
But at some point in time, I thought gravity and I had formed a sort of peace agreement, because it allowed me the occasional glimpse of happiness through such things as raising my children and the births of my grandchildren, even with respect to certain career accomplishments I was able to feel ever so brief moments of true contentment at times, if only for the sake of giving me something for which to continue to strive. However, such was never the case with regard to an intimate relationship, as that has always been kept safely at bay. Therefore I settled, thinking what I couldn’t possibly gain in terms of true love and compassion, I could gain in security with a man who was at least ‘kind’, but once again gravity appeared on my horizon to say, “Not so fast.” Therefore I have to ask myself, “Is it any wonder I have such fears associated with personal relationships?”
I can honestly say I have never been in love before now, and although the depth of feelings I have for another more often than not defy explanation in terms of simple words, it also scares me half to death, because I constantly feel as if I have to look over my shoulder for my old companion to show it’s ugly face again. However, at the same time I also realize this is not fair….. to project old feelings of desolation, loss and betrayal on to the only person whose presence in my life continues to give me ‘hope’ for a brighter future.
It’s true, we have both had our difficulties in the past, but at the same time I think we have learned from our mistakes and are willing to move forward in a more productive manner. This is not to say I’ve flipped a switch and I’m suddenly ‘healed’ ….. if it were only that simple, but I do believe one of the benefits of an analytical mind is when you’re able to detach long enough to examine your mistakes, learn from your lessons, and then try to make the necessary adjustments.
My emotions – on a daily basis – tend to ebb and flow like ocean tides …. that much is undeniable. I know it’s going to take time to re-establish the cornerstones of faith and trust to the point I don’t relapse into self-defeating behaviors like obsession and projection, but I am at least willing to try and banish them from my thinking. I no longer wish to live with a troubled mind anymore, and I don’t want to risk losing my one great love to negative behaviors.
But at some point in time, I thought gravity and I had formed a sort of peace agreement, because it allowed me the occasional glimpse of happiness through such things as raising my children and the births of my grandchildren, even with respect to certain career accomplishments I was able to feel ever so brief moments of true contentment at times, if only for the sake of giving me something for which to continue to strive. However, such was never the case with regard to an intimate relationship, as that has always been kept safely at bay. Therefore I settled, thinking what I couldn’t possibly gain in terms of true love and compassion, I could gain in security with a man who was at least ‘kind’, but once again gravity appeared on my horizon to say, “Not so fast.” Therefore I have to ask myself, “Is it any wonder I have such fears associated with personal relationships?”
I can honestly say I have never been in love before now, and although the depth of feelings I have for another more often than not defy explanation in terms of simple words, it also scares me half to death, because I constantly feel as if I have to look over my shoulder for my old companion to show it’s ugly face again. However, at the same time I also realize this is not fair….. to project old feelings of desolation, loss and betrayal on to the only person whose presence in my life continues to give me ‘hope’ for a brighter future.
It’s true, we have both had our difficulties in the past, but at the same time I think we have learned from our mistakes and are willing to move forward in a more productive manner. This is not to say I’ve flipped a switch and I’m suddenly ‘healed’ ….. if it were only that simple, but I do believe one of the benefits of an analytical mind is when you’re able to detach long enough to examine your mistakes, learn from your lessons, and then try to make the necessary adjustments.
My emotions – on a daily basis – tend to ebb and flow like ocean tides …. that much is undeniable. I know it’s going to take time to re-establish the cornerstones of faith and trust to the point I don’t relapse into self-defeating behaviors like obsession and projection, but I am at least willing to try and banish them from my thinking. I no longer wish to live with a troubled mind anymore, and I don’t want to risk losing my one great love to negative behaviors.
January 22, 2014
Starving Obsession .......
Every winter when cold season descends upon me, I tax my brain to try and remember is it “starve a cold, feed a fever” or the other way around? I never can seem to remember for certain, but it does seem logical to assume if one wants to get rid of ‘anything’ the best course of action would be to deny it the nourishment it needs to survive…..case in point: If you don’t water a plant, feed a pet or even nurture and hand-hold a client, it either dies or goes away altogether. As such the same rule should apply to obsession.
If asked I think most people would liken an obsession to an addiction of sorts. Consequently, whatever form the ‘object of desire’ should take – whether that be drugs, alcohol, sex, shoes or even a paramour, should the addict fail to get his or her ‘fix’ then the obvious occurs ….. painful withdrawals followed by even more painful detox. Caught within the grip of such a debilitating state, one must draw the undeniable conclusion, “If this hurts so badly, how can it possibly be good for me?” I ask you, who but Calvin Klein has turned Obsession into something profitable?
However, one ah-ha realization I’ve come to during the course of the past few months is that maybe there’s an intrinsic value in holding onto a relationship like the one I had with Charles way past its prime ……because by the time I let it go, there was very little to feel sad about anymore. In fact, I can honestly say once we finally parted ways I didn’t shed one tear.
Relationships - even the best of them - are tricky. That's why in order to succeed, one must be fully committed and even brave in the face of uncertainty, because speaking strictly from a woman's point-of-view, I've learned a man will never really tell you what's on his mind.
I remember sitting in church one Sunday morning directly in front of the statue of the Virgin Mary. After praying for the the good health and welfare of all of my loved ones, I prayed for the same thing I always pray for ….. the revelation of my one great love, but this time my heart stood still, as I did not feel his presence anywhere near me. Time and distance had taken a heavy toll on my sensibilities, making rational thought all but impossible.
On my knees, I meditated in an effort to have one word revealed which might inspire my thoughts and cause my heart to race once again, but the only word that came to mind was 'falling' so I continued down that path for the balance of the hour …… whether one falls from a cliff or a rooftop, the end result is usually the same ….. catastrophic injuries which may or may not result in death. On the other hand, a fall from grace implies the danger of losing one’s soul. Then there are the lesser falls, such as falling off the wagon or even falling for a joke. Whether speaking of the loss of life or limb, the loss of one’s mortality, sobriety or even perceptibility, the implications are the same …. falling means the inevitable loss of something.
So I thought why should falling in love be any different? In so doing, I have lost my heart, the capability of reason, control over my thoughts and passions, peace of mind and most of all sleep. Therefore I must ask myself, “At what point does this start feeling like it’s a good thing?” Therefore, as I continued to sit in my side pew alone toward the front of the church feeling as if love had abandoned me once more, tears began to well up in my eyes as I came to the realization that I may always be alone, and that I might have already had my shot at love and blew it.
However, the next day I woke in a stupor following a blissfully stormy night to elation! You came back to me ….. only a few words, but they told me you love me, you are still with me, and that you missed me as well.
As I clutched my cell phone to my chest I was reminded once again the only thing that remains constant in life and love is that it changes ….. nothing is ever permanent. When it does change, you have to be willing to change with it, because if you don’t bend, you will surely break, and caving into the demands and pressures of life should never be an option. As long as you have breath, there is hope, and hope will always spring eternal.
If asked I think most people would liken an obsession to an addiction of sorts. Consequently, whatever form the ‘object of desire’ should take – whether that be drugs, alcohol, sex, shoes or even a paramour, should the addict fail to get his or her ‘fix’ then the obvious occurs ….. painful withdrawals followed by even more painful detox. Caught within the grip of such a debilitating state, one must draw the undeniable conclusion, “If this hurts so badly, how can it possibly be good for me?” I ask you, who but Calvin Klein has turned Obsession into something profitable?
However, one ah-ha realization I’ve come to during the course of the past few months is that maybe there’s an intrinsic value in holding onto a relationship like the one I had with Charles way past its prime ……because by the time I let it go, there was very little to feel sad about anymore. In fact, I can honestly say once we finally parted ways I didn’t shed one tear.
Relationships - even the best of them - are tricky. That's why in order to succeed, one must be fully committed and even brave in the face of uncertainty, because speaking strictly from a woman's point-of-view, I've learned a man will never really tell you what's on his mind.
I remember sitting in church one Sunday morning directly in front of the statue of the Virgin Mary. After praying for the the good health and welfare of all of my loved ones, I prayed for the same thing I always pray for ….. the revelation of my one great love, but this time my heart stood still, as I did not feel his presence anywhere near me. Time and distance had taken a heavy toll on my sensibilities, making rational thought all but impossible.
On my knees, I meditated in an effort to have one word revealed which might inspire my thoughts and cause my heart to race once again, but the only word that came to mind was 'falling' so I continued down that path for the balance of the hour …… whether one falls from a cliff or a rooftop, the end result is usually the same ….. catastrophic injuries which may or may not result in death. On the other hand, a fall from grace implies the danger of losing one’s soul. Then there are the lesser falls, such as falling off the wagon or even falling for a joke. Whether speaking of the loss of life or limb, the loss of one’s mortality, sobriety or even perceptibility, the implications are the same …. falling means the inevitable loss of something.
So I thought why should falling in love be any different? In so doing, I have lost my heart, the capability of reason, control over my thoughts and passions, peace of mind and most of all sleep. Therefore I must ask myself, “At what point does this start feeling like it’s a good thing?” Therefore, as I continued to sit in my side pew alone toward the front of the church feeling as if love had abandoned me once more, tears began to well up in my eyes as I came to the realization that I may always be alone, and that I might have already had my shot at love and blew it.
However, the next day I woke in a stupor following a blissfully stormy night to elation! You came back to me ….. only a few words, but they told me you love me, you are still with me, and that you missed me as well.
As I clutched my cell phone to my chest I was reminded once again the only thing that remains constant in life and love is that it changes ….. nothing is ever permanent. When it does change, you have to be willing to change with it, because if you don’t bend, you will surely break, and caving into the demands and pressures of life should never be an option. As long as you have breath, there is hope, and hope will always spring eternal.
January 21, 2014
Emotional Bank Accounts ......
Most people are so focused with growing the size of their financial bank accounts that little thought is given to the fact we all possess an emotional bank account as well. I suppose that is one of the major trappings of a society ruled by Capitalism, but then the obvious result is a nation full of over-worked, stressed out, disengaged citizens who feel they must live to work rather than work to live. I find it disheartening sometimes to think our consciousness has sunk to a level where we value a person based upon their accumulation of wealth or possessions rather than their contributions to society. Must we sacrifice our souls in the quest for validation? Once we achieve success and all the status that comes with it, when are we finally able to say ‘enough is enough’?
As weekend warriors we try to pack so much living into the span of a couple of days out of each and week that for the most part we end up physically and emotionally exhausted, resentful that our so-called free-time has expired and we’re staring down the barrel of another full work week come Monday morning. I am no different. However, in a nation where so many people have fought and died so that we may all call ourselves free, are we dishonoring the legacy that was so generously handed to us by depleting ourselves to the point that somewhere in our forties we all manage to ‘hit the wall’ and consequently wake up one day with the burning question, “What is the meaning of life?” It is so common amongst people that the medical industry felt obliged to give it the name Mid-life crisis.
However, this crisis could be averted if we would only chose to make regular deposits in our emotional bank accounts in much the same way as we do at our respective financial institutions. Most of us dip into our accounts regularly as we smile and say “hello” to a stranger, go out of our way to please a client, give a hug to a crying child or by listening to a friend tell you about his or her struggles. I find women in particular are constantly giving in one way or another, which is why so many wind up feeling disenfranchised even within their own families, because at some point all the giving becomes an expectation as opposed to a gift, therefore gratitude is withheld, and feelings of self-worth are then replaced by sorrow that can one day turn an otherwise warm, gentle soul into an angry and embittered individual. Conversely, the same thing can happen to men who dedicate themselves to working hard to maintain a certain lifestyle for their families. When appreciation is withheld, they often seek to fill their emotional bank accounts elsewhere, which can only lead to feelings of betrayal, separation and divorce.
Other obvious setbacks from an emotionally depleted bank account can manifest in the form of lost jobs or opportunities, crumbling relationships or financial spirals. During times when we are caring for someone who is gravely ill or exceedingly dependent like my elderly parents, I find I’m constantly being forced to dig a little deeper into my savings in order to get myself through, but it’s also at this time I have to work even harder to find a way to pay a little more in even if it’s just taking an hour out to sit and have my nails done. During the most difficult of times, I have to remind myself to take a step back, gather my thoughts and a few deep breaths to remind me that living is supposed to be something we do every single day and not something we put off for the future. Otherwise, why is it anyone would work so hard to make it through any crisis if not for the rewards life has to offer on the other side?
If you allow your entire life to become problematic on some level then the inevitable result is you wake up one day to find yourself in an emotional black hole with fewer than needed resources to assist in your climb back up to the top. When you feel tired and over-worked, stressed beyond your ability to handle one more thing that is the time to draw people closer rather than push them away. Finding the necessary strength to rely upon the people you love most, those whose confidence you enjoy with whom you can also share your worries and fears will enable you to feel replenished in spite of heavier than normal demands. In some regards you are paying the emotional currency forward by allowing that special someone to feel needed, thus giving them a reason to feel ‘whole’.
As weekend warriors we try to pack so much living into the span of a couple of days out of each and week that for the most part we end up physically and emotionally exhausted, resentful that our so-called free-time has expired and we’re staring down the barrel of another full work week come Monday morning. I am no different. However, in a nation where so many people have fought and died so that we may all call ourselves free, are we dishonoring the legacy that was so generously handed to us by depleting ourselves to the point that somewhere in our forties we all manage to ‘hit the wall’ and consequently wake up one day with the burning question, “What is the meaning of life?” It is so common amongst people that the medical industry felt obliged to give it the name Mid-life crisis.
However, this crisis could be averted if we would only chose to make regular deposits in our emotional bank accounts in much the same way as we do at our respective financial institutions. Most of us dip into our accounts regularly as we smile and say “hello” to a stranger, go out of our way to please a client, give a hug to a crying child or by listening to a friend tell you about his or her struggles. I find women in particular are constantly giving in one way or another, which is why so many wind up feeling disenfranchised even within their own families, because at some point all the giving becomes an expectation as opposed to a gift, therefore gratitude is withheld, and feelings of self-worth are then replaced by sorrow that can one day turn an otherwise warm, gentle soul into an angry and embittered individual. Conversely, the same thing can happen to men who dedicate themselves to working hard to maintain a certain lifestyle for their families. When appreciation is withheld, they often seek to fill their emotional bank accounts elsewhere, which can only lead to feelings of betrayal, separation and divorce.
Other obvious setbacks from an emotionally depleted bank account can manifest in the form of lost jobs or opportunities, crumbling relationships or financial spirals. During times when we are caring for someone who is gravely ill or exceedingly dependent like my elderly parents, I find I’m constantly being forced to dig a little deeper into my savings in order to get myself through, but it’s also at this time I have to work even harder to find a way to pay a little more in even if it’s just taking an hour out to sit and have my nails done. During the most difficult of times, I have to remind myself to take a step back, gather my thoughts and a few deep breaths to remind me that living is supposed to be something we do every single day and not something we put off for the future. Otherwise, why is it anyone would work so hard to make it through any crisis if not for the rewards life has to offer on the other side?
If you allow your entire life to become problematic on some level then the inevitable result is you wake up one day to find yourself in an emotional black hole with fewer than needed resources to assist in your climb back up to the top. When you feel tired and over-worked, stressed beyond your ability to handle one more thing that is the time to draw people closer rather than push them away. Finding the necessary strength to rely upon the people you love most, those whose confidence you enjoy with whom you can also share your worries and fears will enable you to feel replenished in spite of heavier than normal demands. In some regards you are paying the emotional currency forward by allowing that special someone to feel needed, thus giving them a reason to feel ‘whole’.
January 20, 2014
Colorblind .......
Today being Martin Luther King Day, it was a good time to meditate on the impact color has on all of our lives. As a former interior designer, within my professional world, simply stated color mattered. For instance, the impact of a bold color element strategically placed in a room otherwise dominated by neutrals always made an unexpected statement, which usually delighted my clients. While as a young girl, I was made acutely aware that my father had been born colorblind, a fact which contributed greatly when selecting gifts for him at Christmas, Birthdays and Father’s Day. Yellow was always a favorite color, because it was one of the few he could see accurately, thus wearing something yellow enabled him to feel like the rest of us.
But aside from my work and Dad’s hereditary abnormality, decades went by without my having given much thought to the impact of color until one winter’s day when my son and I were driving through our neighborhood heading in the direction of home he proclaimed, “Mom I can’t wait until Spring. I’m so tired of looking at all of this orange grass.” I looked out the car windows at the faded flaxen-colored lawns carpeting the yards on each side of our street and instantly realized my father’s malady had skipped a generation and landed on Christopher. Once we arrived home and I hastily picked up a handful of household items representative of the color spectrum, I gave him an oral exam where there were no wrong answers, only ‘his’ answers.
As a result, I quickly discovered the only colors he could detect with precision were blues and purples; otherwise his perception was unique to himself. He had just turned twelve-years-old at the time. A few years later during his turbulent teens, my knowledge of color became the one bonding point between the two of us ….. he needed me to assist in clothing selection so that he wouldn’t end up looking ridiculous. Now decades later whenever color selection is a factor, he still calls me for my input.
As a society, I used to think mankind would benefit greatly by becoming colorblind, because at that point ethnicity would cease to matter, and no one would risk suffering from bigotry and prejudice anymore, and neither a man nor woman would have to worry about being assassinated for having dared to dream out loud. However, I have since changed my mind. When I think of a colorless world, how dull and unremarkable would it be if there were no ‘colors of the rainbow’, or if the electromagnetic spectrum of visible light contained no differentiating characteristics?
People – like light – need to be distinguishable in their uniqueness, and color does matter. It takes a broad spectrum of colors to make up the human race as decided upon by the God we worship. As such, who are we to question the wisdom behind His original design?
Many others like Dr. King have since picked up that same torch in an effort to raise the world’s consciousness through campaigning for ‘equality’. Whether India’s Gandhi or South Africa’s late Nelson Mandela, the message is still the same ….. we are all God’s children and as such we all matter equally.
Therefore, maybe a better overall plan would be to become ‘color aware’ versus colorblind to the point we could all learn to celebrate our differences in knowing together we combine to make up the wonderful tapestry divinely inspired and woven by God’s own hands. Then we could all set aside this day to regale and remember a true visionary who was touched by human suffering and moved to act through the spirit that dwells from within.
But aside from my work and Dad’s hereditary abnormality, decades went by without my having given much thought to the impact of color until one winter’s day when my son and I were driving through our neighborhood heading in the direction of home he proclaimed, “Mom I can’t wait until Spring. I’m so tired of looking at all of this orange grass.” I looked out the car windows at the faded flaxen-colored lawns carpeting the yards on each side of our street and instantly realized my father’s malady had skipped a generation and landed on Christopher. Once we arrived home and I hastily picked up a handful of household items representative of the color spectrum, I gave him an oral exam where there were no wrong answers, only ‘his’ answers.
As a result, I quickly discovered the only colors he could detect with precision were blues and purples; otherwise his perception was unique to himself. He had just turned twelve-years-old at the time. A few years later during his turbulent teens, my knowledge of color became the one bonding point between the two of us ….. he needed me to assist in clothing selection so that he wouldn’t end up looking ridiculous. Now decades later whenever color selection is a factor, he still calls me for my input.
As a society, I used to think mankind would benefit greatly by becoming colorblind, because at that point ethnicity would cease to matter, and no one would risk suffering from bigotry and prejudice anymore, and neither a man nor woman would have to worry about being assassinated for having dared to dream out loud. However, I have since changed my mind. When I think of a colorless world, how dull and unremarkable would it be if there were no ‘colors of the rainbow’, or if the electromagnetic spectrum of visible light contained no differentiating characteristics?
People – like light – need to be distinguishable in their uniqueness, and color does matter. It takes a broad spectrum of colors to make up the human race as decided upon by the God we worship. As such, who are we to question the wisdom behind His original design?
Many others like Dr. King have since picked up that same torch in an effort to raise the world’s consciousness through campaigning for ‘equality’. Whether India’s Gandhi or South Africa’s late Nelson Mandela, the message is still the same ….. we are all God’s children and as such we all matter equally.
Therefore, maybe a better overall plan would be to become ‘color aware’ versus colorblind to the point we could all learn to celebrate our differences in knowing together we combine to make up the wonderful tapestry divinely inspired and woven by God’s own hands. Then we could all set aside this day to regale and remember a true visionary who was touched by human suffering and moved to act through the spirit that dwells from within.
January 19, 2014
Time In A Bottle .....
Today I managed to get done exactly what I set out to do by cleaning out the upstairs storage room. I have not words to describe just how ugly a task this became. It was not your typical ‘cleaning out the attic’ wherein dust is the biggest culprit one faces. No, living amongst the woods like we do, we had critter infestation in the form of raccoon litters and a multitude of rats.
Mom paid a fortune to an exterminator this past Summer to rid the house of the rat infestation, and my son had managed to board up entry to the Momma Coons some time ago, but the mess had remained until now, and it was not pretty. Therefore, armed with a breathing mask – because of my dust allergies – a multitude of leaf bags and thick, heavy-duty work gloves, I set about a course to make sense of the space with the intent of moving my things into the room afterwards.
It was disgusting …. The rats had broken into bags and boxes of old papers then shredded and scattered them everywhere, as well as doing pretty much the same to old books, bedspreads and fabric remnants. There were decades old Christmas decorations that had all but disintegrated and clothing racks that had fallen into shambles. At the end of the day, I had lugged down nine leaf bags full as well as filled a small storage room full of goods to be hauled to the city landfill. Aside from a stiff back, a long scratch on my right leg and having banged my head four times on the small doorway going into the storage room out front, I managed to survive the ordeal, but only time and a good night’s sleep will tell how I fare come tomorrow. Suffice it to say, rats must eat and shit more than any other living being. It’s no wonder they carry so much disease …… yuk! Tomorrow I will begin moving my things in until once again I’m fully entrenched in Mom & Dad’s home. It wasn’t what I wanted, but still I understand it’s time.
Among the books I was tossing into a bag I found my old 1974 high school annual. It was pretty much ruined, but I didn’t have the heart to throw it away. I think I found myself represented on the pages 16 times, though the index only counted 13. I took a brief moment to thumb through the pages and as I did, so many memories filled my mind, and for a moment I couldn’t hardly keep up with all the hopes and dreams that filled those pages. As I looked at the pictures from one page to the next, I spoke a word or two about those whose lives I knew something about ….. this couple got married and then divorced, there were premature deaths due to a mixture of causes ranging from illness to accidents and even some suicides, and many others who went on to lead more successful lives, while even more disappeared into the oblivion life creates once you leave high school.
The theme for my class that year was the same as the Jim Croce’s song Time In A Bottle. A year before he had suffered his own untimely death at the age of 40 due to a plane crash, and his songs subsequently rose to meteoric fame. But even so Time In A Bottle had never seemed more significant than while I looked at the pages of that annual. There we were …. seventeen year old kids with our whole lives before us …… genuine smiles of naivety forever captured on celluloid before life’s harsh realities had the time to age some of us before our years, before the quest for hopes and dreams became more of game of daily survival, before we had the chance to realize love didn’t always conquer all and that some of us would never be given to chance to grow old. In the years since some of us have become like our parents, while others refused to grow up, even though their faces inevitably changed. But for a moment it was almost as if I could hear the faint sounds of Jim Croce singing …….
If I could save time in a bottle
The first thing that I'd like to do
Is to save every day
Till Eternity passes away
Just to spend them with you
If I could make days last forever
If words could make wishes come true
I'd save every day like a treasure and then,
Again, I would spend them with you
But there never seems to be enough time
To do the things you want to do
Once you find them
I've looked around enough to know
That you're the one I want to go
Through time with …….
For ten minutes or so I was captured with time in that bottle while I remembered, grateful for the childhood I had and the friends who accompanied me along the way. In a word, it was priceless, and I wouldn’t change a thing. Now almost forty years later I know we can’t place time in a bottle and wishes don’t always come true, but if we work hard and we’re just a little bit lucky along the way, we get to keep some of those friends who help make the passage of time that much softer and sweeter. So here’s to you my friends, in yours and my eyes, we shall always remain forever young.
Mom paid a fortune to an exterminator this past Summer to rid the house of the rat infestation, and my son had managed to board up entry to the Momma Coons some time ago, but the mess had remained until now, and it was not pretty. Therefore, armed with a breathing mask – because of my dust allergies – a multitude of leaf bags and thick, heavy-duty work gloves, I set about a course to make sense of the space with the intent of moving my things into the room afterwards.
It was disgusting …. The rats had broken into bags and boxes of old papers then shredded and scattered them everywhere, as well as doing pretty much the same to old books, bedspreads and fabric remnants. There were decades old Christmas decorations that had all but disintegrated and clothing racks that had fallen into shambles. At the end of the day, I had lugged down nine leaf bags full as well as filled a small storage room full of goods to be hauled to the city landfill. Aside from a stiff back, a long scratch on my right leg and having banged my head four times on the small doorway going into the storage room out front, I managed to survive the ordeal, but only time and a good night’s sleep will tell how I fare come tomorrow. Suffice it to say, rats must eat and shit more than any other living being. It’s no wonder they carry so much disease …… yuk! Tomorrow I will begin moving my things in until once again I’m fully entrenched in Mom & Dad’s home. It wasn’t what I wanted, but still I understand it’s time.
Among the books I was tossing into a bag I found my old 1974 high school annual. It was pretty much ruined, but I didn’t have the heart to throw it away. I think I found myself represented on the pages 16 times, though the index only counted 13. I took a brief moment to thumb through the pages and as I did, so many memories filled my mind, and for a moment I couldn’t hardly keep up with all the hopes and dreams that filled those pages. As I looked at the pictures from one page to the next, I spoke a word or two about those whose lives I knew something about ….. this couple got married and then divorced, there were premature deaths due to a mixture of causes ranging from illness to accidents and even some suicides, and many others who went on to lead more successful lives, while even more disappeared into the oblivion life creates once you leave high school.
The theme for my class that year was the same as the Jim Croce’s song Time In A Bottle. A year before he had suffered his own untimely death at the age of 40 due to a plane crash, and his songs subsequently rose to meteoric fame. But even so Time In A Bottle had never seemed more significant than while I looked at the pages of that annual. There we were …. seventeen year old kids with our whole lives before us …… genuine smiles of naivety forever captured on celluloid before life’s harsh realities had the time to age some of us before our years, before the quest for hopes and dreams became more of game of daily survival, before we had the chance to realize love didn’t always conquer all and that some of us would never be given to chance to grow old. In the years since some of us have become like our parents, while others refused to grow up, even though their faces inevitably changed. But for a moment it was almost as if I could hear the faint sounds of Jim Croce singing …….
If I could save time in a bottle
The first thing that I'd like to do
Is to save every day
Till Eternity passes away
Just to spend them with you
If I could make days last forever
If words could make wishes come true
I'd save every day like a treasure and then,
Again, I would spend them with you
But there never seems to be enough time
To do the things you want to do
Once you find them
I've looked around enough to know
That you're the one I want to go
Through time with …….
For ten minutes or so I was captured with time in that bottle while I remembered, grateful for the childhood I had and the friends who accompanied me along the way. In a word, it was priceless, and I wouldn’t change a thing. Now almost forty years later I know we can’t place time in a bottle and wishes don’t always come true, but if we work hard and we’re just a little bit lucky along the way, we get to keep some of those friends who help make the passage of time that much softer and sweeter. So here’s to you my friends, in yours and my eyes, we shall always remain forever young.
A Day In The Life of an Aspiring Author .....
I could talk about my work. In fact I'm more than happy to discuss topics related to my writing as it is my passion. Therefore, if you have a question or comment I beg you to put it forth and you will
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