Have you ever sat still just to reflect, to meditate, or to put things into perspective? Do you remember how you felt after you did that? Did this bring you peace? Depression? How does reflection affect you?

It’s a good idea to seek to understand more about yourself sometimes. We live in a world that is so occupied with trying to figure out why others are doing what they’re doing and why we should care that we seldom have time for ourselves. I don’t mean time for ourselves in the selfish sense of the word because if you can’t figure how to help someone else, have you actually succeeded in life? Aside from money, family and friends have you helped someone today? So, not selfishly, but reflectively, how often do we preserve time for ourselves? What is it about you, that makes you, you? What is it that you would like to change about yourself? How can you as the individual use your gifts to help better the world? Do you even care about such things? And you can be honest; it’s just you and life right now. Being true to yourself and being able to recognize those things about you can give way to great peace. If a homeless man thought he was a rich man, he will never fully function until he realizes the truth. He will not be able to take his rightful place until he realizes he is out of his place. The foundation of truth is rooted primarily in a people’s ability to know who they are. It is an identity that gives way to the substance in our lives. It is what we live for and what we die for. It is the struggle to appreciate our part in the world and to appreciate others and how their contribution is interconnected with our own.

So today, do not worry about how others see you, how many mistakes you made, or even how great you are, just reflect. What is it in your life that you need to change for the betterment? What is it that you can improve on? Think about these things without adding anyone else into the equation. Like I said, this is just you and life right now. Nothing else in the world matters at this moment.



Didn’t know the whole world was mine…my princess self….

didn’t know bout this crown on my head,

just death and pain till the winds got tired of blowing on me….

said it was time for the branch to be lifting my chin from the ground so lest I could see what the sky looks like…

held me in his arms like orange autumns in September…

fresh air, cool and breezy like.

A Writer’s Art


A writer – and, I believe, generally all persons – must think that whatever happens to him or her is a resource. All things have been given to us for a purpose, and an artist must feel this more intensely. All that happens to us, including our humiliations, our misfortunes, our embarrassments, all is given to us as raw material, as clay, so that we may shape our art.”
― Jorge Luis Borges, Twenty-Four Conversations with Borges: Interviews by Roberto Alifano 1981-1983

Frank Morrison

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This isn’t exactly an article FYI, more like a random thought (perhaps I’ll make a category for that). But, in case you haven’t noticed, I use a lot of Frank Morrison images on this blog. In fact, my avatar profile is a FM piece. I have a brother who’s a very talented artist (one day I’ll feature some of his work), but I’ve never really been into the specifics of artwork such as paintings, drawings, etc. on an intimate level. Sure, I love pictures and paintings but I’m not one to visit an art gallery (unless of course admission is free ha ha…wait, do you pay to get in or you just pay for the paintings? I have no idea, but moving on…). In the past couple years I’ve come to really enjoy FM’s work. The exaggeration of the features is amazing and I think it is one of his most obvious talents; but also the authenticity of the pictures, their realness, and their truth. The facial expressions of the African American women, the cool movements of the men, the innocence of the children, the whole culture and style of the people in general is eye catching. While I don’t agree with all of the spiritualism some of the paintings suggest, there are still enough of them to love; each picture standing alone to become a story of its own. I can so see myself writing a short story based on one of the paintings themselves. And interestingly, many of them are so perfect for what I write on this blog, especially the poetry. But it’s not much of a surprise since, in many ways, these paintings are indeed poetic and add great compliment to any work. Speaking of which, I think it’s important for writers, bloggers, and those who like to write in general, to take advantage of images alongside words every now and again because they tend to not only catch the viewer’s eye, but speak much more forcibly to the reader, causing him to actually keen in more closely to the actual text. Not that text alone can’t speak (for I am a writer and my work is not pictorial in the literal sense), but I believe mankind is a visual creation. It makes faith a great challenge since it’s the proof of what is not seen lol, but I think we can strengthen that part just by learning how to properly use images alongside text. Pictures should not dominate so that they distract away from the reading, but they should compliment the reading.

While it probably makes for a great debate on which is more beneficial for the sharing of information (visual or written), I think none of us can deny that pictures can display quite the impression, and potentially lead to the further evaluation of the written text. Just browse through any Library or Bookstore and you’ll see that books ARE judged by their covers! It’s the cover that first grabs your attention. Of course we all want for a good story, but even before you get to the synopsis of the text it’s the image on the cover that pulls you into the title and makes you read what the book is about.

So great job Morrison! Because of you I may just invest a few sheckles into an art gallery, who knows. 🙂








Humility is loving that which is poor
it is bringing oneself down
becoming a servant to an innermost consciousness
to appreciate that which is forgotten
and insignificant
to relapse back into a state of childhood
where even something as great as a piece of broken glass
seems innocent
where it is not glass
it is not dangerous
it is just a mirror into which we see ourselves