Kern Carter's Blog, page 101
September 24, 2021
The Best Of Love
Life hasn’t always been a struggle.There are moments I took off my mask.Moments where fear had no place.Places I opened my heart and…
September 23, 2021
Editor Picks — Favourite Posts On CRY Last Week
Image by Julia GaranThis is so much fun. We’re getting at least half a dozen submissions each day and while we can’t post them all, the pieces we do post feel special.
That’s why choosing one is so hard. At the same time, I’d be lying if I didn’t admit to enjoying the process. CRY is a special place where we get to indulge in our emotions and express our vulnerabilities. Reading your pieces is a privilege and I recognize how valuable this space is becoming.
OK, enough with the preamble. Here are our Editor Picks for our favourite posts from CRY last week:
Kern
Sometimes, the writing within a piece is so beautiful that it almost doesn’t matter what the story is about. When I first read “I Live For Mid Tide,” I felt transported into a creative world where the energy of words was spiralling all around me.
No, I’m not exaggerating. And when you read this piece by Ellison O. you’ll be immersed in a similar experience. Ironically, the post is about struggling to write. But Ellison describes the struggle so beautifully that I actually wish I struggled, too. In their own words:
I have turned, looked over my shoulder, to see the moon descending from the night sky to invigorate my creative mind, yet in other moments I have struggled, sweating frustration and emitting stress from my pores, hands blistering on the rope as I try to pull the moon on down.
Safia
In a world where we’re often told that success is all about the hustle — waking up earlier, being “team no sleep” and not letting up until we reach our goals, it was refreshing to read Charlie Cole’s piece “Healing Through Rest”. A beautiful reflection and reminder that creatives need rest too. As she writes, “The ability to pause keeps us from quitting altogether…” Using rest to heal ourselves, actually provides us with more space to produce great work.
In her own words:
Rest, what a revolutionary concept. We talk about it a lot, but I fear we do not follow it up with enough action. Productivity has poisoned our relationship to relaxation.
KB
The poetry coming in is extremely touching. I’d like to remind everyone though to process through the questioning and give your insights/experiences a story that others can relate with as well. My favorite piece from last week has got to be Compass by Kevin C. Grant. Kevin takes us through the tumultuous thoughts of wearing a mask to reach society’s golden standard striving to be somebody, before bringing us back to the fact that we need not search to find ourselves. In his own words:
Our gold isn’t in sunken treasures,[image error]
but the beauty of the journey we spend a lifetime journeying to find.
Editor Picks — Favourite Posts On CRY Last Week was originally published in CRY Magazine on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.
Congratulations, You’re a Failure!
Photo by Michael Dziedzic on UnsplashEveryone makes their call on where they feel they are in life and what they’ve accomplished.
For some? Everything falls apart and goes downhill after 21. Who am I to argue? Aside from qualifying for Medicare, there isn’t much in the way of milestones after that magical number. It’s the peak of life with the world lying open at a person’s feet.
Others savor the age at which they retire — whatever number that happens to be. Without the restrictions of a job, they find the freedom they haven’t enjoyed since childhood. Oh, sure, bills still arrive at the door. And it’s probably important to pay more attention to certain health concerns. But fussing over projects and seeking approval from clients or managers? That’s off the table.
Then there’s you sitting somewhere in between. Nothing exciting to report, no numerical age of any significance. (Trust me: I checked Hallmark to see if they made a card) But enough failures racked up to prevent the former from leaving home and put the latter into a coma.
So you have that. (Everyone needs to mark their life with an accomplishment)
And while the words sound horrific, I want you to throw your shoulders back, smile, and hold the list up for everyone to see. You smashed into walls — sometimes spectacularly.
Sweetie, no one fails quite like you.
Unicorn DreamsRemember when you were little? Adults felt a compulsive need to include children in their small talk. No point in asking our opinion on the weather (“Yup, it’s sunny”), and our version of neighborhood gossip involved frogs and which swing on the playground wobbled too much. So they asked us a different question. The same question. A stupid question to ask a child, really.
“What do you want to be when you grow up?”
As if a five-year-old can form a strong opinion of their future career possibilities. We’re climbing trees (falling out of trees), playing in the mud (eating dirt), and chasing fireflies (and putting them in jars). Our concept of time is skewed. Yet they want us to have the forethought to look down the road to adulthood? To conceive of a time with bills and responsibilities? Quaint.
No surprise, then, that you dazzled everyone with your answer. For some reason, adults didn’t consider “a unicorn” the appropriate response. Of course, you weren’t supposed to hear the frantic suggestions that your parents get you into therapy. Or the recommendations that you not spend so much time reading. And let’s not forget the gentle nudges of their children AWAY from your circle of influence.
You failed on that score, unicorn girl. Thirty-seven years later, and you haven’t sprouted a horn in the middle of your forehead. (Not yet, anyway) No inherent magical abilities, either. The closest you’ve managed is a Tokidoki sweatshirt with a horn on the hood. (You know the one; that purple hoodie that garners strange looks from people when you wear it)
It’s probably your biggest — and first — failure. Especially because you remained oblivious to the lesson. While the adults fretted over your desire to grow into a mythical creature, your parents shrugged the notion aside. They never enrolled you in therapy. Your book collection? It never once faltered. (If anything, you benefited from that recommendation with those trips to the library and bookstore) And your folks never stopped you from playing with your friends.
Because your parents believed you could be anything you wanted — even a unicorn.
MemoryLittle girls grow up. They set aside My Little Pony collections and take up Broadway playbills instead. From the first moments in a theatre, you knew — KNEW — you belonged on a stage. An ironic turn of events, considering the lengths you’d go to to avoid speaking with a stranger. (Let’s not forget riding your bike around the block five times to wait for the neighbor to leave so you could drop the package in the mailbox rather than knock on the door)
Performance meant the world to you. And you mapped everything out in your head: a Performing Arts degree, that magical audition landing you a role in New York City’s theatrical district, and a swift climb to the Tony’s (No one’s ever faulted your imagination). When you sent out your college applications, you always checked for a drama program.
Yes, even at those few schools everyone insisted on with a science focus.
There was no question about acceptance. With your grades and extracurricular activity list? You had your pick. Smiling and thanking people for their congratulations when the announcements came over the PA at school got tiring. And it interrupted your daydreaming.
Not quite as dramatically as Dad’s reality check. But interruptions all the same.
The parents who didn’t mind your unicorn aspirations — and faithfully attended your school performances — now put their foot down. College, of course. But you’d be attending a “real” course of study. Drama wasn’t on the menu. What you chose to do in your free time was your business. But if you expected their assistance with tuition? Yeah, you’d follow their directives.
Talk about a cold review.
Every dream crumbled. And, you, of course, pitched a fit. They held no faith in your acting and singing abilities. Their actions and words proved it. And in the course of your dramatic reinterpretation of teen angst, you failed again. Because you didn’t listen to the logic. You missed the lesson on practicality. Even worse, you spent more time complaining to Uncle — a dancer and performer — than you did listening when he described the uncertainty of his life.
You shucked the responsibility and maturity you’d cultivated at that point in favor of teenage conformity.
Just Keep SwimmingMythical unicorns might exist. For instance, people out there attend college and find careers that align with those degrees. Then they stay there, never deviating to a different path until they retire. You don’t actually KNOW any of those people, but they exist. (Somewhere)
You’re not one of them. (See? Missing that unicorn opportunity all over the place) Not for lack of trying.
After you recovered from your dramatic moment, you moved on to a new dream. And you genuinely planned to become a researcher. That imagination launched you into journals on shark behavior, your research team around Australia or South Africa, maybe even a guest spot during Shark Week.
At least until your academic advisor warned you that research grants were getting difficult to come by. Had you considered getting your Master’s? (Sure. Was he offering to pay for it?)
And while working at the Zoo proved a high point on the career journey, hearing the words, “You’ll need to wait until someone dies to advance” doesn’t do much to bolster a person’s ambition. You knew you needed SOMETHING. That vet tech degree seemed like the perfect compromise. It took you a step forward while keeping you around the animals you loved.
Who knows? Maybe — in another world — it might have worked. Ten years isn’t something the average person shakes a stick at, you know. You learned enough to fill a shelf of books. And I don’t mean the medical knowledge (not alone, anyway); you took away life lessons. But failing to research the work environment, the struggles vet techs endure, and overall career climate? Yeah, that one’s on you, Kid.
Your resume resembles a hit-and-run report.
It’d be easy to call THAT the next failure on the list. I could even trot out the various mistakes associated with drifting from one job to the next. Except then you’d need to add ANOTHER epic fail to the list. One that plenty of people tick off their lists.
People DO find and cultivate a single job for their lives. It works for them. Maybe they learn something from the process. Perhaps they don’t.
But people like you? They fail to realize the growth they achieved by looking at their place in life and saying, “I don’t want to be here.” Instead, they squirm and feel awkward or embarrassed at trying something different. They try to sweep the reality into the shadows or shove it into the back of the closet with the unicorn skeleton.
Never realizing the strength they gained, daring to forge a new path.
Total FailureYou’re a complete and epic failure.
Depending on how you decide to look at the stories that make up your life, anyway. You’ve certainly felt that way for most of your 42 years. But when you start to think about it, those “fails” are badges worth displaying.
The fact you wanted to be a unicorn? Yeah, it’s why you’re a writer now. Your parents never curbed your imagination. And they believed — and encouraged you—to do whatever you wanted in life.
With, you know, some grounding in rationality so you didn’t starve in a cardboard box on the street.
And all of the background you wince over? That knowledge landed you your first freelance contracts. They provided the experience and research skills that help you win over clients today. (Probably wouldn’t have that without the science degree, either. There, I said it)
So, yes, you failed. You screwed up. You left a wake of crumpled corpses in the rearview mirror of your travels.
Good job!
And don’t worry. You still have PLENTY of time before they shove you into the grave to fail at least a few more times. (Or you could always go for a dramatic event. I’m good either away).
[image error]Congratulations, You’re a Failure! was originally published in CRY Magazine on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.
Love Thyself
Love Thyself
Photo by Budka Damdinsuren on UnsplashIf someone dares to insult your beauty,
Tell them that I am wonderfully and beautifully made.
If someone dares to insult your intelligence,
Tell them that my brain knows no limits.
If they dare put you down,
Beat your chest and declare loud and clear,
“I am a Queen or King in the making.”
If they tell you that you’re not good enough,
Tell yourself, “I am more than enough.”
If anyone strips away at your Spirit,
Say with great ferocity, “Get behind me Satan!!”
If somebody tries to poison you with nasty thoughts,
Tell them, “I know who I am and you will soon know as well.”
If they dare make you look like a mouse,
Look them in the eye and let out that mighty roar within your heart,
You may not have the talent, the experience, and skills that others do,
But do not let that stop you.
Keep on doing that thing you love.
Keep on being yourself.
As Denzel Washington said:
“Some people will never like you, because your spirit irritates their demons.”
Forward forever. Backward never.
It shall always be well with you.
The more I speak, the more a weight lifts off my heart.
[image error]Love Thyself was originally published in CRY Magazine on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.
To Farewells and New Beginnings.
To Farewells and New Beginnings.
Photo By | Leon SeibertThere comes a time where we all must say farewell. The inescapable moment where we all must bid adieu. I have come into this world growing older, wiser. Some of the souls I’ve encountered, I may see again. But, for those I may not, I pray the memories serve you well. I can recall, now with some effort, the great times and the not so great. There was much discomfort and many sacrifices. The Herculean decisions, as well as, stifling indecision came and went. Life can be crippling, but now looking back, it’s all become easy memories. However, this is not the time for dwelling in the past, since “the now” is all we have. Each transitory person and moment are opportunities for farewells and new beginnings, new beginnings, and farewells.
In the temporal world, everything that begins must have its end. For some, that is a doleful thought; but not for you and me. Why?
Because it is the new beginnings and abrupt ends that alter all of our expectations and plans. Enchanting imperfections are what makes our lives mean so much more. I have lived my life well. I love and have been loved. But, I am still living, and there is still so much to do. When I say “farewell” to you, do not focus on the goodbye. Instead, focus on the new journey about to commence. Live fully with each breath, only staring back through your rearview to smile about the times we shared.
To Farewells and New Beginnings. was originally published in CRY Magazine on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.
I am not your basket of chores
Photo by Hugo B on UnsplashHow dare you pick me up
just to throw me away?
A weightless pile of fibers
clinging to your skin
hoping for static
to reconnect matter
between us.
You wear me whole
My threads conceal your flesh
more fragile than silkworms feeding
on mulberry leaves
my blanket covers you
raw on your throne
Extract the material from my bones.
You fold me up
once or twice a week
wash me of my filthy needs
iron my complacency
smooth out my pleats
make me feel complete
Live in me as you sleep.
Leave me be. My pockets fill nicely
with rocks, dirt, some loose change
Moths have come bearing my name
Snow will have come and gone again
while I lay where you last left me
Another curiosity turned bore
Why does pleasure transform to chore?
Promises crack at winter’s door
your skin trembles, purplish-blue
my textile breaks from icy dew
Take me off; throw me on the floor
forget to pick me up once more
the cold proves to be too much
My kingdom for your warm touch.
[image error]I am not your basket of chores was originally published in CRY Magazine on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.
The Go-Getter
The Go-Getter
Image by Orlando Florin RosuIn the darkest of times you shall stand firm,
No excuses for mistakes,
No slacking whatsoever,
Always be accountable to yourself,
Build yourself up,
Keep learning and networking,
Your voice is the most important,
Listen to your voice and heart,
Follow that path,
Never give up,
Never surrender,
Let the Earth hear that mighty roar,
Let the world marvel at your talent,
It is time to you to shine,
Come forth and show them your works,
So that you would be appreciated in the long run.
Support the fox: https://deft-creator-7923.ck.page/563dc986ae
[image error]The Go-Getter was originally published in CRY Magazine on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.
September 22, 2021
Ologist
Photo by Clem Onojeghuo on UnsplashDa Caribbean woman wonder,
how often she pot must be stirred.
how long it must boil den simmer.
how much goat pepper, salt,
rosemary, and thyme must add.
how much tears and sweat...
what pound of veggie & how
much different kinda flesh
is ga be enough to keep
her lova from samplin’…
annuda’ woman pot.
Ologist was originally published in CRY Magazine on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.
