Guest Feature – Mother to Son

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Well, son, I’ll tell you:
Life for me ain’t been no crystal stair.
It’s had tacks in it,
And splinters,
And boards torn up,
And places with no carpet on the floor
Bare.
But all the time
I’se been a-climbin’ on,
And reachin’ landin’s,
And turnin’ corners,
And sometimes goin’ in the dark
Where there ain’t been no light.
So, boy, don’t you turn back.
Don’t you set down on the steps.
‘Cause you finds it’s kinder hard.
Don’t you fall now
For I’se still goin’, honey,
I’se still climbin’,
And life for me ain’t been no crystal stair.

 
– Langston Hughes

Cloudy with a Chance of Writer’s Block

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The invisible force waiting until we want to write before blessing us with its presence; it moves gracefully throughout the smoke filled rooms of trial, tribulation and circumstance. In its left hand is a sickle of distraction, have you come forth to reap what had not yet been sown? In its right are the sketchy blackboards of daily events that only wish to distract away the concept of creativity. The unmovable rock falling from the sky like hailstones is writer’s block. It pops up unannounced and hides itself underneath our fingernails. Its motivation triggered only by greed; the satisfaction of witnessing the wavering minds too off guard not to let it in. I am determined, however, that the weathering of my mind and the inspiration of my thoughts will not give in to the falling bricks of mortar coming my way. I will gather the scraps of words lingering in the corners of unmarked territory, move against the stillness of idle hands and write about the sound of this here concrete tapping against my frontal lobe. I will see the weather changing and prepare myself against the storm.

Something 2 Think About

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“The remarkable thing is that we really love our neighbor as ourselves: we do unto others as we do unto ourselves. We hate others when we hate ourselves. We are tolerant toward others when we tolerate ourselves. We forgive others when we forgive ourselves. We are prone to sacrifice others when we are ready to sacrifice ourselves.”

– Eric Hoffer

The Hypocrisies of the Word “But”

We’ve all been there. We’ve all used it before. That means that in some time in our lives we have all been hypocrites. That is because we’ve all used our “Buts” before. The funny thing about “But” is that sometimes it is such a contradiction. While we can use our “Buts” to denote that we are unsure of something, usually when people say “But…” it’s because they mean the opposite of what they are telling you they mean. Here are a few examples:

“I like you but…”

This usually means that the person really does not like you but does not want to hurt your feelings.

“They cool but”

This one is two fold: a). There are more bad qualities about “them” than there are good, and  b). I don’t want to talk about your friend in front of your face.

“I don’t mean to offend you, but…”

Here, this but means that I’m warning you that what I am about to say will in fact offend you.

“That’s a great idea but”

This means that chances are your idea sucked and the person doesn’t know how to tell you.

“I know but”

Means the person doesn’t really know what they’re talking about.

“I was going to tell you, but..”

This means the person wasn’t going to tell you, but now that he or she has been caught they have to think of a lie real quick.

“I don’t mind watching your kids, but”

Your children are little devils who don’t listen and no one feels like being bothered.

Captured Moments

The best thing about pictures is capturing a single moment. By stopping time in its tracks you freeze not just that moment but also the emotion stamped into it. Not only do you remember what you felt but you also experience that feeling again. Every glance is a blast back to one moment; the second movement was blessed with stillness; light, color, and atoms all bonded together and locked tight into the single shape of laughter, joy, sadness, or a relaxed coolness; giving you the permission to hold time in the palms of your hands, and the miracle of revisiting yesterday if only to feel what you felt again.

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This picture was taken almost three years ago, and the history behind it always makes me laugh. Hubby and I had just boarded the Carnival Conquest for a trip to Jamaica, Cozumel, and the Cayman Islands. I wasn’t smiling so hard because of excitement necessarily, but because I was actually not just smiling, I was laughing. These people were worse than paparazzi (not like I live the lifestyle to know what that feels like but I imagine it was something like this). They practically pushed us in front of the camera. Imagine walking down the street… (no, gliding is more like it) yea, gliding down the street encased in your own thoughts. You are somewhere between right now and yesterday and tomorrow; basking in the joy of this moment. Imagining what this week away from the world would be like. At the same time your accounting for the items you carry with you: tickets, card, purse, luggage….smile! Just like that someone snaps a picture, somehow simultaneously pushing you both in front of the camera. A burst of pending excitement is no longer concealed to your inward parts, but is about to give birth to an eruption of butterflies once protected in your stomach and are now visible in the creases of your face. But you’ve got to hold it all together with a pose that won’t look like you’re really rolling on the floor laughing, and will make the most gorgeous couple headlines at the same time.

If You Forget Me | Pablo Neruda

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I want you to know
one thing.

You know how this is:
if I look
at the crystal moon, at the red branch
of the slow autumn at my window,
if I touch
near the fire
the impalpable ash
or the wrinkled body of the log,
everything carries me to you,
as if everything that exists,
aromas, light, metals,
were little boats
that sail
toward those isles of yours that wait for me.

Well, now,
if little by little you stop loving me
I shall stop loving you little by little.

If suddenly
you forget me
do not look for me,
for I shall already have forgotten you.

If you think it long and mad,
the wind of banners
that passes through my life,
and you decide
to leave me at the shore
of the heart where I have roots,
remember
that on that day,
at that hour,
I shall lift my arms
and my roots will set off
to seek another land.

But
if each day,
each hour,
you feel that you are destined for me
with implacable sweetness,
if each day a flower
climbs up to your lips to seek me,
ah my love, ah my own,
in me all that fire is repeated,
in me nothing is extinguished or forgotten,
my love feeds on your love, beloved,
and as long as you live it will be in your arms
without leaving mine