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 |   Reflections and ruminations from a modern day Alice - Life is Wonderland |
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Reflections and ruminations from a modern day Alice - Life is Wonderland  Welcome to the place were I chronicle my own falls down dark holes and adventures chasing white rabbits! Come on In, Take a Bite, You Never Know What You May Find... "Curiouser and curiouser." Alice in Wonderland    |
| "Blog City ~ Every Blogger's Paradise" Day 851 July 7, 2016 Prompt: "We may run, walk, stumble, drive or fly but let us never lose sight of the reason for the journey or miss a chance to see a rainbow on the way." Gloria Gaither What is your take on this? Sometimes this life's journey feels like one long, perpetually running stumble. The past year has been filled with proverbial potholes of finding judgment instead of understanding and disdain instead of loyalty. There have been moments when I have had to remind myself that each experience, be it disappointing or uplifting, is part of a bigger journey to understanding this world and one's place in it. I have come to a better clarity than I had before, even if that clarity brings a sadness and sense of loss in its wake. I feel I have a better understanding of what I mean to people in my family, my friendships, my workplace...and for me that has helped shape who I am today. That has true value, even if it feels hard earned at times. Life is messy but it is also beautiful and fleeting, not unlike a rainbow. I've realized that there is more joy in life than most of us expect and that its usually the quiet moments that affect the biggest changes or make the deepest impressions on our hearts. "Blogging Circle of Friends " Day 1331 July 7, 2016 What are your favorite way to use veggies? Lately I'm liking my veggies chopped raw with olive hummus - crunching away at my day job desk. This summer I'm also grown very fond of watching my garden grow. The spring beans are climbing for the heaven and my zucchini is busting out of the raised beds! My daughter loves eating the red cherry tomatoes and bell peppers right off the plants. |
| In this past week I've feel as if I've been battling a post-vacation hangover trying to reinsert myself into the chaos and demands of a stress-inducing job. I find myself checking email during dinner, waking up in the middle of night running worst case scenarios and generally worrying about the bottom line in a particularly slow cycle of sales. There doesn't seem to be much time or opportunity to write anything, let along work on my submissions. I keep telling myself I just need to get out in front of my work and I can score some breathing room to work on some things but so far that seems like little more than a lofty aspiration. One thing that hasn't escaped my attention is how drastically my daughter has changed in this past year. I was so blessed to have had a full, uninterrupted week to spend with her on vacation. I found myself just watching her at times, transfixed by how much she's matured this summer. First off, she's shed every once of baby fat, revealing that she will most likely and thankfully take after her father. I can see the familiar lines of his lithe build in her physique and also touch of athleticism I wished I had possessed at her age. The Florida sun turned her skin its loveliest shade of caramel which has brought out the jade colored flecks in her eyes. She seems for the first time, to be wholly unlike either one of us, but rather uniquely herself. She is developing her own sense of humor and her own sense of style. She had a variety of laughs at her disposal...a quiet giggle, a playful snicker and a full-on belly laugh that makes my heart joyful when I hear it. She often walks aside of us now but just as often slips her hands into one of ours and readily returns our hugs and kisses. She is still sweet, occasionally saucy and simply amazing to behold. And now for the prompts...prompts keep me focused, they keep me "in the ink" so to speak... "Blogging Circle of Friends " Day 1324, June 30, 2016 PROMPT: throughout history, stories have influenced a change in society (for example Jules verne's " from the Earth to the Moon,inspiring the moon landing, or 20000 leagues under the sea inspired the creation of electric submarines, or George Orwell's "1984" inspiring the NSA spy scandals, Using a specific literary work, explain how a novel might influence change in society. I think either read this prompt a little differently, or have a slightly jaded take on it because the novel that came immediately to mind was Margaret Atwood's "The Handmaids Tale". I read the book over a decade ago but the story stayed with me. For those who are unfamiliar, the novel of speculative fiction, tells the story of a future where women had been striped up their most basic rights. Following a terrorist attack and subsequent takeover, society has been rigidly restructured into a caste system whereby women are divided and devalued based on their fertility. It is a vivid depiction of the worse scenario for women in a society ruled by controlled by men and their archaic and brutal philosophical ideals. The reason this particular novel comes to mind is that we live in a time when the debate of abortion repeatedly surfaces in nearly every political race or round table discussion. The women's right to chose is repeated challenged, with constantly changing laws shifting the power balance in one direction or the other. It seems unstable and precarious sometimes...this sense of control over our lives and our bodies. We all know about places in the world where women do not enjoy the same freedoms, the same rights. We all know of places where women are not free, are not safe. We all know of places where women are enslaved by political and religious idealogy. There are places where the parallels between the fictitious Gilead and modern day society can be clearly drawn and that should be frightening to every global citizen. It certainly frightens me. The right over my own body is God-given and sacred and the thought that any government could lay claim to that right, could move to supercede my own authority over self, is simply not acceptable to me. "Blog City ~ Every Blogger's Paradise" Day 844 June 30, 2016 Prompt: What is the most independent thing you have ever done? I feel that I have been pretty independent my whole life. I've made some mistakes but I've always tried to push myself too. I elected to go to college out of state and after that first summer break, I made the permanent move out. My parents were already in the middle of divorce and after several brief months bouncing between "his" and "her" houses, it was very clear to me that I was better off on my own. I think though perhaps the most independent thing I have ever done was to buy my ex-husband out of of the house in the divorce. It was my first home and it was terrifying. It was a project to renovate, both emotionally and physically. The house had seen its far share of discontent and there were lots of bad memories there. I was determine to look past that and start over. With very limited knowledge, I patched all the fist-sized holes and battered doors. I threw away all the garage-sale furniture that was a scarred as I felt and replaced it with the bright and the new. I repainted, repaired and replaced with abandon. Eventually, I felt like I had reclaimed the space as one I felt safe and secure in. It wouldn't truly become a home for me again until I remarried and gave birth to my daughter. Today it is the first place I really feel happy and complete. My husband and our daughter have really been what have made this house a home. I'm grateful though, that I took that leap for myself. It was such an instrumental part of becoming the person, the mother and the wife I am today. |
| Vacation is over. Monday brought brought both a return to heels and an overloaded inbox. It was nice to get away but my type A personality began to ramp up about 48 hours to boarding my return flight home as I anticipated everything waiting for me back at work. Today I have to remember to breath and fit in my daily dose of blogging to keep my right brain/left brain in harmonious balance. So on that note...I tackle the prompts for today. "Blogging Circle of Friends " DAY 1321: June 27, 2016 Prompt: Write about something you lost. What seems like several lifetimes ago I lost my best friend to a long, brutal battle with addiction. At the time of his death, our relationship had gone full circle from friends to lovers to back to friends - and it had been every shade of difficult in between the two over the course of five years. Regardless of what my dreams may have once been, I had reconciled myself to the knowledge that not only were we not meant to be, but he would not survive his demons and his loss was imminent and tragic. Even with my understanding, even with having had the time to prepare for it, that call still came as a shock. The knowledge that my friend was gone reverberated through me in waves of grief and anger. It was "my friend" that I missed most and not "my ex". The romantic love we had for each other had been a casualty of his addiction but the fondness I had for him as my best friend survived the grave. The last meeting we had was terribly sad but I'm forever grateful for the chance to say goodbye. There were no hard feelings over broken promises or heartache over what could have been - there was only a terrible grief and loss. "Blog City ~ Every Blogger's Paradise" Day 841 June 27, 2016 Prompt: We all think we know what truth is; however, what if truth is really a collection of feelings and attitudes? Or do the emotions and attitudes affect truth in some way? What are your thoughts on this? I believe that most truth is relative in life. Truth is something you feel certain of in your mind and your heart - it personal and intimate. Facts are universal truths but even facts can be corrupted by personal interpretations sometimes. |
| "Blogging Circle of Friends " DAY 1309: June 15, 2016 Open Prompt My daughter open her sleep tired eyes this morning and told me, with a furrowed brow, that she had a bad dream. It was only 6am and since school is out for the summer, it was very early for her to be awake. I pulled her close and felt her little arms encircle my neck, felt her slide one leg over my hip, drawing our bodies even closer. In a few minutes, she drifted off to sleep again, feeling secure and safe from whatever had chased her in her dreams. I gave myself an extra thirty minutes on my alarm and settled in with her, feeling secure and safe myself. At 6, my daughter is more than capable to sleep in her own bed, on her own. She does, on occasion, spend entire nights there. More often then not, I wake up to her presence in our bed, waking to find she's wriggled between our sleeping bodies in wee hours of morning. The truth is, I don't mind. These moments of comfort and cuddling will be sweet but brief. She won't always want to sleep in our bed. She won't always need my reassurance after a bad dream. I won't wake up with her arms or legs wrapped possessively around me, or open my eyes to find her and her father entangled, face to face and snoring happily. Fleeting are the sweetest moments of motherhood. I cherish these little moments - treasure our sun-filled Sunday mornings, our family walks, our lazy afternoons.... "Blog City ~ Every Blogger's Paradise" Day 829 June 15, 2016 Prompt: What was your worst summer job? What was your best summer job? The best summer job I ever had, was oddly enough, also the worst. I'm not sure it would even qualify as a "job" in that I didn't even get paid. It was a volunteer stint, meant to garner my resume and expand on my experience, as a Sea Urchin at my local aquarium. The job lasted approximately three months and provided many rich experiences for an aspiring marine scientist. Not all those experiences were wonderful however. The work was tough some days. Messy. I spent lots of hours pressing meds into the gills of freshly gutted mackerel or blending the odious mixture of "fish chum" that comprised a major part of our exhibit's diets. I also cleaned tanks, scrubbing stubborn deposit stains off the glass until my fingers ached. One time, while cleaning a bi-level exhibit featuring a trout stream, I slid down the artificial hill and into the "stream". The thigh high waders I was wearing quickly filled with the cold water and the trout. I struggled to find my footing and my dignity while an excited family laughed and took pictures on the other side of the glass. The worst day of that summer job however came at the hands of our aquarium's residence Pacific octopus. I loathed cleaning that dark tank and had to lean way over the edge to scoop out the strands of feces at the bottom, my eyes constantly darting back to the blurry pink blob pressed into the far corner. This one particular day, as my luck would have it, the octopus made his move. He grabbed my pole and used it to lever most of his body up and over the edge of the tank. I'll never forget the cold, fleshy feel of his tentacles sliding over my arms or how quickly it moved. My heart racketed with alarm and I fought to drive him back into the depths. I've never quite gotten past the experience and I never cleaned that tank again, begging off each time it appeared on my roster. |
| I've taken a few days off from writing, afraid maybe of what I might shake lose should I attempt to express myself in electronic ink in my current under the devastating news stories. I've avoided listening to the opinions and commentary from our abysmal choices for candidates in the wake of yet another hate-fueled attack on American soil. Instead, I've tried, as I often have, to find the humanity at work in the chaos and place my faith there. It is easy at times to believe this country has become so divided, so crippled by political agendas that we have mortally wounded ourselves and have stalled our evolution as human beings. As humans we are endowed with these amazing abilities to think and feel, to design and engineer, to philosophize, to create beauty, to heal, to become champions of innovations, to evolve. Despite all our abilities and potential, we are so easily distracted by the insipid, captivated by the fear, lead astray by false prophets and their empty promises. I refuse to accept that all our fates are left in the hands of a cultivated and practiced liar who doesn't deserve our trust or an obnoxious and small-minded egotist who can not change his bigoted nature for the good of uniting an ailing nation. I refuse to accept that, as a nation build on the ideals of diversity and tolerance, that we would build walls or let the acts of a few poisoned extremists corrupt our perceptions of our fellow citizens. I refuse to believe we have failed our children by creating a sense of entitlement rather than rewarding them for excellence and achievement. I refuse to accept that we are a nation who would neglect our veterans or condemn others on the basis of their gender or sexual preference. I refuse to believe that as humans we can not appreciate that the love for God, for our each other, not only comes in many forms but originates from a place of peace and respect for all those who believe. I refuse to accept that hate has become a defining feature of our genetic makeup. I have more faith in us as humans. I refuse to accept those who falsely claim to be our champions and instead look for those quietly doing good, promoting the positive, evolving into the best versions of themselves they can be and encouraging the same in others. “If you don't choose heroes, heroes will be chosen for you, and they will not represent values that empower you, they will represent powers that will enslave you”― Russell Brand "Blogging Circle of Friends " Day 1308 June 14, 2016 Let's talk about first impressions. I read an article in Family Circle about the importance of your front door on your home. They say that your front door gives an impression and says a lot about you the resident. Do you agree or disagree on it's importance? Do you feel it matters what the outside shows or is it more important to you what the inside reflects? I hope my front door doesn't tell my story since its been adorned by a Christmas wreath and we are already in June. It my front door where to make a statement, it might be an unflattering one unfortunately. In general, I think outward appearances are far less important that what is inside. These days with social media, it is so easy to perpetrate one's life as being something it is not just by posting beautiful images and giving the impression of perfection and contentment. In much the same way, I believe a person's actions speak louder than mere words. "Blog City ~ Every Blogger's Paradise" Day 828 June 14, 2016 Prompt: “A perfect life makes horrible art.” -- Chris Rock, comedian If you had a perfect life, would you give it up to create brilliant artwork of any kind? I don't believe in the concept of a perfect life. No one's life is perfect because that's a very relative term. For me, my writing often comes from a place of turmoil, a place of extreme emotion so I welcome the dips and curves of an eventful life. It helps keep me creative, keeps me honest in my chosen "art". |
| "Blog City ~ Every Blogger's Paradise" Day 822 June 8, 2016 "I heard an angel speak last night and she said: "Write!" Elizabeth Barrett Browning Do you ever feel like an angel has talked to you?" This was an interesting prompt because while I believe in celestial beings, I don't think they've ever spoken to me, and certainly never commanded me to write. I tend to be at my most creative in times of trial and stress, writing has always helped me cope - so perhaps in a way, that is a sign of some spiritual intervention after all! "Blogging Circle of Friends " Day 1302: June 8, 2016: Prompt write a story or poem about The Happy Crow. I had to google "Happy Crow" - because it seemed like an actual thing...what I found was a morality tale about a Crow and a Peacock. So here is my version/retelling of this old fable... Crow was perched high up in her tree, enjoying the sunshine on her glossy black feathers and feeling at peace. Crow was content. Her forest home was wide and welcoming. One day, she looked down to see a graceful swan moving across the still waters of a pond. Crow was transfixed by the soft downy white of her feathers, so different from her own. Crow thought, this fine Swan with her lovely snow white color must be the happiest bird in all the land. She flew down to ask him if he was. Swan told Crow that he believed he had been the happiest bird in the world until he had met a Parrot. The Parrot had vivid feathers of blue and green that were stunning to behold. Swan knew then that Parrot, not Swan, must be the happiest bird in all the land. Crow set off to find Parrot. Crow found Parrot soaring above the jungle canopy. Parrot was indeed beautiful. Crow thought, this surely must be the happiest bird. She asked the Parrot and he solemnly replied... "I once believed I could not be happier, that I had all I could ever want with my beautiful multicolored frock. Then I met Peacock. I only have two colors and Peacock has so many more. Her Feathers are magnificent. I knew then that I could never be the happiest bird in all the land." Crow set off to find Peacock. She had to travel far and wide until at least she found him in a tiny zoo in the center of a large city. Crow approached Peacock and said, "Peacock, I am in such awe of your beauty! Surely you, with your lovely feathers in all the colors of the rainbow, must be the happiest bird in all the land." Peacock gazed at the Crow for a long time. He finally bent his beautiful long neck and the delicate crown of yellow gold feathers on his head caught the fading light. Crow thought that Peacock did not look happy. He looked quite sad. Then Peacock spoke, "Dear Crow, I once believed I was the most beautiful and most happiest bird in all the land. My feathers rivaled all others but because of my beauty, I am trapped in this zoo. People come from all over to gaze at my feathers but I am not free to leave. There are many birds here, some are white like the Swan, some are multicolored like the Parrot. We are all colorful and we are all confined but you Crow, you are free. I think that must make you the happiest bird in all the land. Crow looked at the Peacock, then up at the blue sky above, and knew he was right. Crow spread her glossy black wings and caught the currents and headed for home. Link to the story that inspired this retelling...http://www.moralstories.org/happy-peacock-crow/ |
| Feeling some parental anxiety today thinking about my daughter's first ever piano recital this weekend. She's extremely shy so this performance will be particularly hard for her...trying to focus on the rest of the work day ahead and keep things positive for her so she can make this milestone...and now...I'll to try to focus on today's prompts.... Blog City ~ Every Blogger's Paradise" Day 816 June 2, 2016 Prompt: "Truth is a rare thing. It is delightful to tell it." Emily Dickinson Do you agree? I'm not sure all truth is "delightful" to tell. Some truths are downright difficult to tell. Some truths, when told, alter relationships and change things for the future. I recently "told" some of my own truths and as a result, found myself on the receiving end of considerable backlash. I would say as bad as things were, my unburdening and offers for resolutions, were met with even more resistance. The best advice I have on telling truths is simply this..be sure you are telling truths for yourself alone. If it feels right for you, then the consequences won't matter. I do think truth is a rare thing. I think far too many people prefer to live in a perpetually phony universe instead of being honest and attempting to make a real go of life for themselves. "Blogging Circle of Friends " Day 1296: June 2, 2016 prompt:It is often said that you should never judge another person until you walk in his or her shoes. Tell about an experience that enabled you to better understand another person. It is human nature to judge. I think the recent case of the toddler who fell in the gorilla enclosure is very telling of the way we are so quick to rush to judgment as a society. I saw a meme the other day that read: "I never knew so many of my friends on Facebook were animal behaviorists and parental experts - lucky me" - I thought it was very funny, and pretty spot-on. It is hard to resist the knee jerk reaction to comment on things that go viral in this world, especially when social media gives us a hunger and engaged audience. I try to remember that one can never really know what someone else is dealing with, what their lives are really like and you can't take everything you see at face value. Being a mother is tough. Kids don't often play by the rules and accidents happen. I'm surprised there is so much anger toward this mother and relatively much less directed at the parents who dropped their son off in bear infested woods...on purpose...as punishment. For me its hard not to look some of the generalized reaction to the gorilla story and not be completely disheartened that a child's life doesn't automatically trump an animal's life. I read one woman's post who shared that sentiment beautifully - stating that while it was tragic that such a majestic wonderful animal had to die...it was in the interest of saving a child's life. That should happen 100% of the time. Its a child. Life is relative to some I guess and so much of our lives are sensationalized in stories like these. I hate feeling judged myself, and its happened to be more than once by people I trusted, let alone strangers. I try to remember that feeling when I feel like I'm judging someone else. Empathy is always harder than sympathy. |
| "Blog City ~ Every Blogger's Paradise" Day 815 June 1, 2016 Prompt: "I knew who was when I got up when I got up this morning but I must have changed several times since then." Alice Through The Looking Glass Do you ever feel like this? There was a time, during the darker times of my life, when I would have said I often felt like this. It wasn't uncommon for me to spend many a sleepless night making decisions and coming to reasonable conclusions only to wake up in the wee hours of morning, plagued by second thoughts and doubting my nocturnal convictions. It was a time when my heart was misaligned with my head. I wanted something so badly I was able to defer reality and sound reasoning...but only for so long. I remember feeling trapped in this impossible place, locked in love with an addict was determined to find the bottom - with or without me. I was lost, looking for hope and promise in corner of every sad, empty room in our broken house. I am thankful for that one horrible, heartbreaking day when I finally saw that it had become him or me. I chose me. I look back at the time now with some measure of pride. I ultimately did make the right decisions for my life and my wonderful little family is my reward for getting my heart and head on the same page. "Blogging Circle of Friends " Day 1295: June 1, 2016 June 1 is Dare Day. I dare you to take the challenge and write something using these words: dice, provoke, fluffy, wind, dare, purring, nuts, aid. Write a story or poem about something daring or challenging. Have fun. It had been a stupid dare that brought him to precarious point. Tyson turned his face into the wind and tried not to look down. They had called him chicken shit, each of them hurling the insult back over their shoulders as they launched their summer browned bodies over the edge. They had meant to provoke him but instead of stoking the fire of pride in his gut, their chiding had only serve to cement his fears. He heard their raucous laughter. He could see them splashing about in the dark, still waters below each time he dared to glance down from the lip of the quarry. Tyson knew, to the very core of his soul, that this would not end well. His knees began to knock as he felt the heat of the July afternoon bearing down on his bare shoulders. All at once there was a soft voice at his ear, a sound like warm honey. "You don't have to listen to them Tyson. I was scared to jump the first time too." Tyson turned to stare at Myra Wilson. She was a vision. She had a smattering of cinnamon colored freckles on her smooth, pale shoulders and her long red hair was pulled back and piled high on her head showing off her lovely, long neck. Her suit was bright yellow with white polka dots and had fluffy ruffles on both hips. She stood, looking at him kindly, as she so often did. Tyson swallowed. He hadn't even know she was there that day. Tyson felt the heat rise into his cheeks, felt a pleasant, purring vibration in his center. Now what? Could he really tempt fate? Should he risk his life or risk looking like a baby in front of the girl he'd been in love with since the first grade? On the other hand, he was only twelve...he had not lived nearly long enough and Tyson thought he only had a 50/50 chance of surviving the jump. He looked at Myra, then down at the water. He tossed the mental dice, ended up with snake eyes. Tyson launched himself out into the atmosphere, instinctively cupping both hands around his delicate nuts as gravity claimed him and dragged him down toward the depths below. Tyson prayed for only two things as he impacted the water's surface...that his joker friends would be quick to respond with the necessary first aid and that on the off chance he survived, he'd get to kiss Myra's beautiful face before the day was over. |
| "Blog City ~ Every Blogger's Paradise" DAY 803 May 20, 2016 What is more important what you say or how you say it? This morning is a perfect example of why I think the answer to this question is "both". Sometimes I have a moment when I understand why I've always been driven to write...why it has been always been such a huge part of how I define myself. This morning my husband sent me a link to a blog entry I had made years ago when my daughter was just about 17 months old. The date/time stamp reads May 20th, 2011 12:42pm. I took a moment to read over my words from that time and I was instantly transported back there, to that shining and wonderful moment when I was still a new mother. It makes me realize and remember that I write first and foremost for me, because having this testimony feels like the best gift I can give myself on this journey of life. My words give me the vehicle to look back, and experience those moments again in living color. I love this entry so much because I see myself as that new mother just taking in all the joy and wonder of raising a daughter. It is such a bright and sweet snapshot of our amazing journey as a family. Jaden, My Crazy Love... May 20th, 2011 12:42pm Jaden is feeling better. There is still a slight rumbling sound when she breathes but her eyes are bright and her laughter and smiles are again effortless and joyful. She bounced around the house this morning leaving a narrow swath of destruction in her wake. She kicked over the dog's food bowl, scattering pieces across the floor, tossed my neatly folded laundry all around the living room, crushed a graham cracker under her shoe in the kitchen and left a trail of cherry puffs down the walkway. I followed after her, amazed by her energy and enchanted by her gleeful giggle. There was a moment this morning, when I was so captivated by the beauty in her little face, that the world stopped for me. There was only the morning light and the perfection of her tiny profile, still so much her father's yet still so exceptionally unique at the same time. If she would let me, I'd love to cup her little face in my hands and just study her, every inch, so I could memorize her features before they change again, before she grows up - growing ever closer to the girl, the teenager, the woman she will one day become. When Fatih and I got married, we played Van Morrison's "Crazy Love" for our dance with our wedding party. I always loved the song. I always wanted to be loved like that, have a love that was that powerful, consuming, unconditional. Dancing with my new husband, I had felt like I had found it at last. This morning, that song came on the radio and as I listened, I found a whole new meaning in it, a new connection in my life. That feeling I get with Jaden, the desire to hold time still and just watch her, take her all in until my heart aches with the impossible fullness of it...that's my Crazy Love. She is the thing that "brightens up my day", "takes away my troubles, takes away my grief" The heavens really do seem to "open up every time she smiles" and I feel as if I could, without any effort at all, "hear her heartbeat for a thousand miles", that same sweet sound that pulsed inside me for nine months. But nothing is more true about this Crazy Love, than the fact that her very existence makes me complete in a way I never imagined was possible... "Yes it makes me righteous, yes it makes me whole, yes it makes me mellow down into my soul.." "Blogging Circle of Friends " DAY 1283 May 20, 2016 Do you believe inspiration comes from unresolved tensions? I believe that inspiration can come from unresolved tensions, from rage, from joy, from a confrontation...I think as writers we can draw inspiration from any pure emotion or emotional situation. I think I have always been a more authentic writer when I write from a place of joy, or anger or grief...I think those emotions give me a clarity of self that allows me to be the most honest. I think when we write from the places we know best, we produce writing that is wonderful and engaging and has the potential to touch people most. |
| "Blog City ~ Every Blogger's Paradise" DAY 803 May 20, 2016 What is more important what you say or how you say it? This morning is a perfect example of why I think the answer to this question is "both". Sometimes I have a moment when I understand why I've always been driven to write...why it has been always been such a huge part of how I define myself. This morning my husband sent me a link to a blog entry I had made years ago when my daughter was just about 17 months old. The date/time stamp reads May 20th, 2011 12:42pm. I took a moment to read over my words from that time and I was instantly transported back there, to that shining and wonderful moment when I was still a new mother. It makes me realize and remember that I write first and foremost for me, because having this testimony feels like the best gift I can give myself on this journey of life. My words give me the vehicle to look back, and experience those moments again in living color. I love this entry so much because I see myself as that new mother just taking in all the joy and wonder of raising a daughter. It is such a bright and sweet snapshot of our amazing journey as a family. Jaden, My Crazy Love... May 20th, 2011 12:42pm Jaden is feeling better. There is still a slight rumbling sound when she breathes but her eyes are bright and her laughter and smiles are again effortless and joyful. She bounced around the house this morning leaving a narrow swath of destruction in her wake. She kicked over the dog's food bowl, scattering pieces across the floor, tossed my neatly folded laundry all around the living room, crushed a graham cracker under her shoe in the kitchen and left a trail of cherry puffs down the walkway. I followed after her, amazed by her energy and enchanted by her gleeful giggle. There was a moment this morning, when I was so captivated by the beauty in her little face, that the world stopped for me. There was only the morning light and the perfection of her tiny profile, still so much her father's yet still so exceptionally unique at the same time. If she would let me, I'd love to cup her little face in my hands and just study her, every inch, so I could memorize her features before they change again, before she grows up - growing ever closer to the girl, the teenager, the woman she will one day become. When Fatih and I got married, we played Van Morrison's "Crazy Love" for our dance with our wedding party. I always loved the song. I always wanted to be loved like that, have a love that was that powerful, consuming, unconditional. Dancing with my new husband, I had felt like I had found it at last. This morning, that song came on the radio and as I listened, I found a whole new meaning in it, a new connection in my life. That feeling I get with Jaden, the desire to hold time still and just watch her, take her all in until my heart aches with the impossible fullness of it...that's my Crazy Love. She is the thing that "brightens up my day", "takes away my troubles, takes away my grief" The heavens really do seem to "open up every time she smiles" and I feel as if I could, without any effort at all, "hear her heartbeat for a thousand miles", that same sweet sound that pulsed inside me for nine months. But nothing is more true about this Crazy Love, than the fact that her very existence makes me complete in a way I never imagined was possible... "Yes it makes me righteous, yes it makes me whole, yes it makes me mellow down into my soul.." "Blogging Circle of Friends " DAY 1283 May 20, 2016 Do you believe inspiration comes from unresolved tensions? I believe that inspiration can come from unresolved tensions, from rage, from joy, from a confrontation...I think as writers we can draw inspiration from any pure emotion or emotional situation. I think I have always been a more authentic writer when I write from a place of joy, or anger or grief...I think those emotions give me a clarity of self that allows me to be the most honest. I think when we write from the places we know best, we produce writing that is wonderful and engaging and has the potential to touch people most. |
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