Tag: general

Dear Chandelier,

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Some of us are just too close to the ground to see what the sky looks like and yet you, in your own way, have become the hanging crystal of inspiration. You stand unaffected among grand halls and ballrooms; of corporate offices and living rooms. I watch at the coming and going of guests. Some of them important, some not. They wrap themselves in fruitless conversation and rest their bottoms in chairs that hug the table beneath you. They shout with laughter and hold their noses in the air and yet they live on the ground. They have to look up to you and gasp in awe. So modest and rooted is this simple fixture in a room. I watch as your radiance pulls their mouths to the floor. Watch your occasional swing shift their eyes; watch your gracefulness stop their breaths. Softly and delicately, your crystals spark reflection like the conviction of a mirror, in which we are all forced to see ourselves. We try to move to a less luminous part of the room, but we are powerless to scorch your light. Voices rise to distract from your daintiness. The people scream and yell, come and go, but they are incapable of stealing your glory, let alone catch its shadow bouncing off the walls and chipping at the faces of guests. It is you oh Chandelier. You who remains steadfast and immovable, yet moving. Silent, and yet you sing. Fragile, and yet strong. Beautiful, and yet delicate. Modest, and yet shinning.

Blogging and Writing: The Benefits

edit-your-blog-postsI do believe blogging has had an impact on my writing life and that it can do the same for you. While not every blogger is a writer, as a writer I do not separate the two. For me, blogging and writing has a unique relationship. There is something about instant feedback that I believe helps bloggers to improve their writing. Yes, like a critique group of sorts and for bloggers who also happen to be writers, this can only be a good thing. At its core, writing is communication. It is about recording thoughts and while not all bloggers are writers blogging is still a platform that presents people with a unique medium from which to express themselves in writing. To that end, writing  improves with practice. Blogging will not make  you a better writer, but it can highlight those areas where improvement is necessary. It also helps to highlight those areas of strength. For me, blogging is not the key to authored success or anything like that and it is not something influenced by money. What it does instead is help to increase my interaction with readers which has a natural ability to sharpen my writing skills. When you know people are watching you have no choice but to produce your best, and becoming a better writer holds important benefits for the rest of your life—whether you are writing a book, a presentation, a resume, or a love letter to your spouse.

Because the process of writing includes recording thoughts on paper, the blogging process forces you to think about what you’re going to say before you say it, and encourages you to stop and think deeper. You will delve deeper into the matters of your life and the worldview that shapes them and how to communicate this over to people in a way they can understand it. With immediate feedback by way of Likes and Follows, you’ll get to see how others view your form of writing and gain access to instant critique. Blogging can help you to write more, and in so doing stay focused on your writing goals. Blogging can not only improve and change your writing life; it also changes the life of the reader. As you write, the reader gains and because blogs are free for the audience and open to the public, on many levels, it is an act of giving. It is a selfless act of service to invest your time, energy, and worldview into a piece of writing and then offer it free to anybody who wants to read it. You will find your voice, and others will find inspiration.

Interpreting Me – Sunday Thought

My name is posted all over this blog (and on other people’s blogs). My name is also all over my social media sites and one of the first things you see on my author site. Google Yecheilyah and my name is all over there too.

When I say my name is Yecheilyah (e-see-lee-yah) Ysrayl, I do not mean Yecheilya Israel. I do not mean Yecheilia Ysrael or Yeceilia. I am not highly sensitive about the misspellings of names. I’m just not petty like that. My name is unique and it is understandable if people spell it wrong. But, to try and interpret how you think my name should be spelled is disrespectful. I just want the research police to know that I’m not Jewish and Yecheilyah Ysrayl is not a typo or grammatical mistake.

Additionally, when I started Literary Korner Publishing I intentionally spelled “Korner” with a “K”. I do not mean Literary Corner Publishing. This is not the name of my online book store. Literary Korner is also not a typo or grammatical error. Korner is actually what I intended for it to be. Grammar police, this means that you too can calm down. All is well.

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As for the Sunday Thought thing? Yea, I think I’ve just found another blog feature “Sunday Thought”. What do you think? Yay or nay?

You Are Where You Are

You get what you deserve in life. As much as we complain and whine about why we don’t have and why we should, we never stop to understand that we are all where we’re supposed to be. If you have something great it is because you’ve earned it. And if for whatever reason you are not where you want to be, it is because that place is not ready for your presence or you do not deserve to be there at this time.

A five year old is not mentally or physically capable of handling a dangerous weapon. You will not give a gun or a sharp knife into his hands because he will think that it’s a toy. But here’s the thing: this does not mean he does not deserve to have it. He is not to be given this now because he is not mentally capable of handling it. Only when this five year old is an adult and is ready to be trained in how to properly handle dangerous weapons and obtain the proper certifications, should he be allowed to embark on what is his. Perhaps his destiny is to be an officer, trainer, or a merchant of ammunition. Nevertheless, right now he is where he is supposed to be. That is learning the importance of safety and the value of life. As a five year old, the only thing he has to look forward to now is increasing his understanding of the world around him and when he’s ready, he will be where he’s supposed to be. You are where you are for whatever reason. Perhaps things are not falling apart, perhaps they are just falling into place. This is not your destruction. This is your birth.

For Rose – A Story in a Single Image

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The city never afforded her body the chance to be this intimately part of creation in the way to which her eyes were now experiencing. The sun danced splashes of yellows on her skin and the light immersed her body into the landscape. Forty-two acres of earth welcomed Chelsea until her eyes were not big enough to hold all of it at one time. The sun seemed to come down from the sky to personally greet her and she felt a closeness to the heavens like never before. It was as if she could reach up to the sky and capture the wings of angels in the palms of her hands. A treasure of luminaries in a bowl of black dirt. The only sounds audible were locust and grasshoppers that leaped through the air like children playing hide and seek with the clouds and the growling motors of cars racing by. The land did not reach any homes on the right or the left for at least a mile or two nor were there any houses in front of her. Chelsea remembered feeling lonely and yet the way the trees stretched its branches wide reminded her of a mother’s embrace. Only Forrest stood across from her, a gate closed her into her grandmother’s inheritance, and community spoke like laughter beyond Sara’s womb. She bent her knees and crouched closer to the ground, plucking handfuls of grass from the rich dirt. She had to touch it to make sure that it was real. How could something so beautiful be the result of something so painful? What Grandma Rose left to her would nourish generations of children and her heart ached that Nana would not be here to drink glasses of lemonade on the front porch of their country home or eat tomatoes fresh from the garden. “Rose”. She said it below a whisper and let the smile crease into her face and wrap itself around her cheeks. It had been weeks since she smiled. Nana always knew how to do just that. Amazing how she consoled her even beyond the grave. The woman let the emotion wash over her and the tears race down her face and drip from her lips. The sun bowed its final curtsy before lowering itself into sleep for the night and Chelsea cried for the last time. Her tears all courage shaped in her throat. Finally, the grief had come to an end.