My brain, my life, my existence has been unraveled, scrambled, and muted.
Where words used to flow a dry river bed now exists.
The gravity of what has happened to the world, our economies, the hopes and dreams of billions, finally hit home.
Just days ago the weight of it all lay heavy on my spirit. The thought of dashed . . .
It's tricky starting something new. But it can be even trickier getting to Day One.
I have always been inspired by this quote...
Whatever you can do or dream you can, begin it. Boldness has genius, magic, and power in it. Begin it now. - W.H. Murray
It stirs me up. It strengthens my resolve.
Many moons ago I . . .
Removing the hair-tie...
It was the day before Thanksgiving.
Sitting in a swivel chair, my head down. Snip snip snip… I watch as my hair falls to the floor. A striking picture of an Italian actress with pin straight hair and full bangs sits on the work station beside me.
My mind races… terror and excitement run rampant.
I’m . . .
Reversing a Bad Habit
It has been over a year since I last wrote, and it's driving me nuts that I can't create a habit to write.
Apparently I have no problem not writing on a consistent basis, clearly I have that habit down pat. But how to reverse this?
I guess the question is, what's stopping me?
I want to create a habit to write but in reality, where . . .
Today I want to start.
Yesterday I wanted to start too.
And the day before that I definitely wanted to start!
But sadly I did not.
But today I am determined.
Sitting at our kitchen table, window open, Spring trees a bloom, listening to the birds chirp loudly, with just 35 minutes before I have to walk back to work...
I . . .
Posted in: poetic riffs
Finding happy in the ordinary of every day...
Boy does it take work to live it, breathe it, and not be at war with it!
It's taken me much work to discover that everything I need, want, or could ever hope for is right under my nose.
Spent looking for that magical something that will make me happy.
Wishing for a tomorrow that never . . .
A Deconstruction of Time
Time is not a race.
It's not even a thing.
In fact it's a completely made up, fabricated entity brought into materialization for the soul purpose of differentiating a moment.
It's mans way of making sense of our existence. Our need for structure, for walls, for different compartments, for boxes. Because . . .
Posted in: poetic riffs