Kern Carter's Blog, page 74
November 23, 2021
Here Are The Things That Made Me Happy This Week:
The best way to combat the winter blues is to take joy wherever you can find it. (BONUS: cute puppy video! You know you can’t resist.)
Choosing Your Artist
Photograph by Juliet AltmannI often don’t want to have to choose myself as an artist or writer
I really want to be chosen by others
I’ve had so many occasions when I wasn’t
c h o s e n
So, now it’s all my ego wants
And it’s far too spiteful to take a look in the mirror and choose ME
Because then what will they all say?
All those voices in my head…
Oh look at her, over there, doesn’t care what we think anymore… now she’s chosen herself, how arrogant! The audacity!
Choosing yourself as an artist is essential
You have to do it because if you don’t you likely won’t be able to continue to create
Choosing oneself as a creator is, in the most basic sense, self-care
It’s self-love; it’s nurturing your inner artist
You have to choose yourself because if you don’t choose yourself AND no one else does you may feel really screwed
Choosing ourselves helps us keep going
Just enough wind to keep the sails blowing
That is what you gift yourself when you choose yourself as a creator
I do not always want to choose myself as a creator
I want to be chosen, and applauded
I want to be appreciated by others
But there are a lot of artists out there so I feel a little smothered
I give them all my love but I forget to share the wealth
This is why there is nothing left to do but choose my Self
©2021 Juliet Altmann
[image error]Choosing Your Artist was originally published in CRY Magazine on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.
November 22, 2021
Miraculous Mornings
Photo by Chris Liu-Beers on UnsplashWe went walking beside the tidal creek today
The climate didn’t know, and the weather cared less, about whether it should rain, or blow. Finally they decided to do both. The Sun got into the act, too, so did the waters of the creek. The man I live with took one look at the water and pronounced, in measured accents of impending doom, “The tide is coming in!’ I pretended I hadn’t heard: it is one of the survival skills I have learnt over four decades of married life.
Clouds gathered together in clumps and were chased and scattered by a laughing wind, but they massed together again, and the wind came after them. Again. Beneath the bridge over the road, and beyond, into the creek, little ripples broke the surface of the water, and giggled and chuckled as the wind dipped and swayed above them. They came and went, those little ripples, and the water sang a song of post-lock down freedom. So did I, but quietly. I had already scandalised a very respectable looking lady and gentleman, who were out walking, horrified a group of crass yuppies, and terrified a flock of teenagers by looking up and smiling at the sky.
But if one can’t smile at the sky, what can one smile at?
On the pipal, banyan, neem, copper pod and eucalyptus trees, every leaf cavorted and chortled, turned somersaults, sailed to the ground, even turned over new leaves. The breeze sailed through my hair and patted my face, and I raised my arms and hi-fived it: and the crows, the sparrows, the great Indian coucal and a couple of invisible waterfowl cawed and chirped, hooted and crowed in benediction.
It was a beautiful day.
And I almost forgot that someone had felt threatened enough about my obituary for a warm, and wonderful human being, and an erstwhile colleague, to issue me a veiled warning, both on social media and my phone. Apparently, I woke up sleeping dogs. But perhaps these particular dogs were tired of sleeping? Anyway, I hope there are enough able bodied men and women among all of you to come to my aid, if and when I need it.
©️ 2021 Suma Narayan. All Rights Reserved.
Shoutout to Tamil, for her warm, joyous and brave piece of writing.
[image error]Miraculous Mornings was originally published in CRY Magazine on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.
Empty Nest…
I’ve loved most of my phases of life, the good and the bad periods.
Call For Submissions — What Does Home Mean To You?
Home is such a loaded word. The first thing that comes to mind is probably a physical space. Walls and a roof and bedrooms and bathrooms — these characteristics make up what most of us call home.
But there’s something deeper than that. Home is a feeling. It’s the people that make us feel most safe. It’s something inside of us that can only be defined personally, so let’s define it.
Tell us what home means to you. Where is it, who is it, what is it?
Same rules still apply:You can submit to this or ANY of our past writing prompts. Just scroll through our previous newsletters. They’ll be marked “Call for Submissions.”If you’re already a writer for CRY, go ahead and submit.Be as creative as you want in your submissions. As long as you stick to the topic, we’ll consider it.Just because you submit doesn’t mean we’ll post. If you haven’t heard back from us in three days, consider that a pass.Please reach out if you have any questions at all. If you are new to Medium, here’s how you submit a draft to a publication.
[image error]Call For Submissions — What Does Home Mean To You? was originally published in CRY Magazine on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.
Necessary Venom
‘The climax of the eyes of the world and the view of a very depressing future.’
