Transported through tunes...

 Beautiful Celtic sound at the Market. 

Instantaneous, in vivid sensory sound, music can literally transport you to another place and another time. We've all experienced this time travel to a past moment in our lives, triggered by a tune.  One or two notes and we're filled with a stirring of emotions all tied to a song.  For me, more often than not, it is the melody that pokes open a memory portal and before I know it, I find myself surrounded by a clear as day flashback.  

Badaboom!  I can name that tune in 3 notes....

Music flashbacks for  me  pack the biggest memory wallop because they clearout all of the other senses like draino and make way for a textured 3 dimensional multi-sensory performance.  One poignant song from my past can push back the curtains, lighten the air and heighten the emotions in a split second.  Before i know it, I'm seeing, hearing, inhaling the gift of that moment all over again.  Faces and events, my surroundings at the time, the stories which are tied to a song reveal themselves in a blink of an eye.   

Stumbled, startled, surprised, stepping back.....into an blast of the past...

Sometimes they are painful reminders of loss and trauma .... how time has marched on along with events you never would've predicted.  These are the ones I fell into many times over the last 8 months and for a while just had to avoid the music tied to the memories.  I find now they are softening.  These flashbacks aren't kicking me in the gut as hard anymore.  Instead, I can seek them out before they are unpredictably foisted through my sound boundaries and use them as a means for letting go of the hurt.  It wasn't so long ago...just a couple of months...... that I wouldn't dare put on a Van Morrison CD.  Now, he is back in my repertoire as he should be.  I turned off the jarring flashbacks his music created and turned into the smiling nostalgic times I hold close to my heart. 

Emotional awakenings pluck the spirit.....

Sometimes music flashbacks lift you up into a joyful dance that begins in the middle of your heart.  With a rippling effect, it sends rays of energy through your whole being and out of your limbs.  Before you know it, you're belting out the tune along with the musician with a sense of passion you have forgotten existed.  Anthem type songs tend to do this best.  Good old rock and roll numbers generate this energy, and can rip me right out of my present moment activities, placing me smack dab in the  middle of a concert, a party, a crowded club........... to a place where dancing with abandon was embraced with JOY.

Sometimes a song will leave me melting into my favourite chair as the soothing memories massage my temples,  leaving warm kisses on my spirit.  Just like comfort food, music is food for the soul.  These are the songs I love to stumble upon most often.  Many seem to tied to soundtracks from movies.  There are certain artists too who, guaranteed, will send me spinning slowly back into a place where I belong.  From hymns to the soft plucking sound of the guitar, to a orchestral symphony with wide open multi-layered harmony, to the old standards can wrap me up like a fleecy shawl.  

Flashbacks are spontaneous in nature. They aren't moments we can purposefully manufacture. Their essence springs from an element of surprise.  Whether they lift, soothe or send you soaring down the steepest part of the roller coaster ride, they are moments to treasure.  Why?  Because they are the play buttons that offer us insight into the split second moments in our lives when we shifted from unknowing to knowing.... from unaware to enlightenment.  Personal growth had happened in those moments we reflect upon.  Interestingly, whenever we are given the gift of a flashback, we are given the opportunity to stretch our learning again.  Growth continues. Life has a way of providing these lessons.  Free for the taking. 

East Coast Music Awards, Songwriter's Circle.  

Stephen Page, Jean-Francois Breau, Damhnait Doyle, Thom Swift and David Myles

This week's Sunday Scribbling's prompt is "Flashback."  For more offerings, check out their blog. 

it lingers.........

I hear it echo from distant dreams

soft chaunting hymns beckoning me

to return to its harmonic flame.

I see it shimmer through shards of light

beyond my reach, inviting me

to gaze into its radiating eyes.

I feel it caress from bewitching disorder

tempting my heart, luring me

to risk the soultouch sense of a kiss.

I taste it from memories of feasts

wild sensuous morsels, enticing me

to graze from a buffet of love offerings

I inhale it, fragrance of warm skin

lingering in breathless air, persuading me

to transform beyond intoxicating bliss. 

Not yet, I say.

Not yet.

I'm not ready to risk that kind of love again.

But....

Let it linger all around me.

Let me gaze and graze on my own.....

I need time to explore territories

untouched, unseen, unknown. 

I need time to clear away cobwebs and conjure up new dreams

before I step out of the woods

and into the garden where true love grows.

The word at Sunday Scribblings is LOVE.  It's been a long time since I took part in this weekly exercise.  Good to stretch the creative juices again......... for more offerings, here is the link to their blog. 

extreme

EXTREME.....................

scream

temperatures

fatigue

poverty

passion

pita

skiing

tatooing

sports

happiness

sorrow

ideas

right

left

suprise

climax

weather 

beliefs

makeover

cold

heat

devastation

pain

chewing gum

deals

dimensions

delight

demands

disappointment

body piercing

hunger

desire

hell

conditions

obesity

thinness

solidarity

solitude

paranoia

addiction

abuse

apathy

emotions

sexual appetite

roller coaster

extravagance

measures

OVERREACTION

From the nadir to the apex and nothing in between, descriptions of the "extreme" send our imaginations beyond what we can fathom.  We see as far as our eyes can take us....to the point of where the stars line the outer universe.  But, then we learn that our interpretation of what we THINK is extreme goes beyond our cognitive boundaries.  There is no status quo, no static benchmark for the location of where dwells.  Technology for example has allowed us to travel into the realm of what we could only label as infinity.  Once again, it pushed the extreme boundaries as we have learned this week when they announced on the news of five new planets.   It all seems so....so.....so...... unbelievable.   

The term "extreme" is inordinately overused, to a point where it is mugged of any believability.  It's used to expressively tantalize, to clamp onto our attention.......... to blow air in our face in order for us to lose our breath and say "WOW!," "HOLY TOLEDO!"  "AWESOME," "DUDE, That's  TOTALLY EXTREME! " However, it has no validity, no statistical support, no facts to back it up.  Extreme is not a measurement, except that it is defined as the zenith....the OUTER most limit.  It is a flagrant uttering used to poke our emotional buttons.  And it is so overused to a point of skepticism..... and beyond.......

It's time to eliminate it from our vocabulary before we seriously suffer from extreme irritation.

Sunday Scribblings this week looks at the word "extreme..." as a salute to the weather conditions in England this week.  Though it seems unprecedented, one never knows what the future holds. The snow and ice and slippery conditions may just be a walk in the park a few years from now.  I'm sure my friends in the UK are extremely discombombulated over that prediction.  For that, I'm infinitely sorry.  Whatever that means.

all my life's a circle..........

In the chilly hours and minutes,
Of uncertainty, I want to be,
In the warm hold of your loving mind.

To feel you all around me,
And to take your hand, along the sand,
Ah, but I may as well try and catch the wind.
Donovan.....

The candles are burning bright tonight in my home as I write this. Lily, our trusty pooch, is monitoring the front lawn through the window looking for little trick or treaters carrying big goodie loot bags, all excited to be out in the dark on this blustery Halloween Eve. There is a combined sense of fright and delight.

I love Halloween. It truly does bring the neighbourhood together in a different way than on any other day of the year. Little Emma down the street, who is almost 4 years old (how did that happen??!) looked so adorable in her flowy pink wizard costume. Of course, Lily had to be the first greeter as she ploughed past me as I opened the door........... her tail wagging, a smile on her face. When we opened the door to Emma, it was a reunion between friends. I heard this tiny little voice exclaim.......... "Happy Halloween Lily!" Then, a big yawn came from the worn out wizardess, and a polite thank you without any prompting. :) So grown up!

Tonight, I'm have the house to myself. I chose to stay behind to hand out the Halloween candy. I'm too wiped out and physically feeling a bit off kilter. To combat a sense of weariness, I've lit dozens of candles and put on a CD chock full of the songs I love to listen to when I am in need of rejuvenation. It feels like a multi-sensory haven which has generated a sense of grounding and a lovely feeling of nostalgia wafting all around me. It's exactly where I want to be, reflectively soaking it all up.

Every single song that has played tonight has conjured up a photo album of beautiful faces, heart held memories ............... stuff that dreams are made of .... Within the tunes, I can hear intimate conversations, envision late night guitar picking, picture smiles and tears, reunions and shared walks. I remember boisterous campfires, spirit moving canoe paddles, nights laying on a floating dock looking up at a sky so full of stars. Close enough to wrap your hands around them. And then there were the nights when the northern lights danced up from the horizon. Oh my God, they are sight to behold.

It's the stuff that dreams are made of
It's the slow and steady fire
It's the stuff that dreams are made of
It's your heart and soul's desire
It's the stuff that dreams are made of.... (Carly Simon)

Connections to past and present feed an internal flame that propels me onto to the adventure ahead..... wherever that may lead, whatever it offers. While the music plays on, I fall into a place deep inside... where the ME in me is most authentic. To label it with feelings? A profound sense of gladness.

My gladness, however, is steeped in multiple layers of feelings, softened by a cotton gauze over the lens with which I view it. Tears spring forward, smiles too as I realize how much time has already marched on in my life and how FULL it has been thus far. I bring forth the living spirits of the people who continue to touch me .... the ones in particular who are far away in physical distance, but never ever far from my grateful heart. I kiss them all tonight. I kiss them all......

When rain has hung the leaves with tears,
I want you near, to kill my fears
To help me to leave all my blues behind.

For standin' in your heart,
Is where I want to be, and I long to be,
Ah, but I may as well, try and catch the wind.
(Donovan)

As the outside winds send welcoming gusts from the past summers in blustery autumn billows, I sit here surrounded by the wafting scents of candles and wonder what makes their flames flicker and dance in unison? I think I know.

I 'm not alone in this ultimate adventure called life. Let the music play on.....

It seems like I've been here before;
I can't remember when;
But I have this funny feeling;
That we'll all be together again.
No straight lines make up my life;
And all my thoughts have bends;
There's no clear-cut beginnings;
And so far no dead-ends.

All my life's a circle;
But I can't tell you why;
Season's spinning round again;
The years keep rollin' by.

Harry, keep the change, Chapin.

This week's Sunday Scribblings prompt is adventure. Mine is enhanced daily by my friends and family.... the beautiful people whose spiritual presence always make the candlelight flicker and dance and bring meaning to the music that touches my soul.

fallen angel

fallen angel's wings

Didn't mean to disappoint you.
I could see it in your eyes.
Seems as though my appearance
came as a sad surprise.
It was the last thing I intended.
I had hoped for so much more
our ethereal connections
kept those promises in store

Instead those wanting expectations
openly expressed
were left in discarded tatters
no reasons were confessed.

These wings are dipped in ashes,
My heart's brimming in shame
this broken angel's fallen
her appearance is to blame....

Every time you were all alone
Discomfort spoke to me
Loud waves of noisy silence
Choking air of possibility
Still I prayed I was misreading
intuitive warnings all around
Averted eyes tell no lies
when they're focused on the ground.

These wings are dipped in ashes,
My heart's brimming in shame
this broken angel's fallen
unable to spark the flame.......


This week's Sunday Scribblings word prompt is shame. It is such a powerfully debilitating feeling....the one that makes lonely feel like a walk in the park. Toxic, physically riveting, shame employs thoughts and actions in a way no other feeling comes close to. What is the opposite of shame? hmmmm.....

Shame is grace turned inside out. Can you ever experience grace when shame hits home?

My first thought when I saw this prompt was a vision of a fallen angel..... one who was given the opportunity to connect on a deep level with someone she believed she was destined to meet. But, when it happened, she quickly realized that her appearance didn't bring the comfort and joy she had hoped for, even expected. Consequently she felt like she had failed in her quest. She was left feeling ugly and discarded. Fallen, shame filled her ethereal soul.

the grieving process

I've seen it in black and white.....bold type on a page and it seemed so simple to achieve. Follow the steps in the book. There is a method. It goes like this.....

"You will feel these things. Eventually your grief will turn into acceptance. Then, you let go and move on."

So, I rhyme the process off in my head.

Denial, Anger, Bargaining, Depression, Acceptance.
So simple.
So linear.
So void of feeling.....

I ask questions to myself,
where i am in this process?
is this normal?
am i normal?
does my reaction follow the steps?
am i over it yet?
am i over it yet?
when do i get over it?
will I ever get over it?

The "it" turns into a human picture of the one I grieve, transforming into a blue eyed twinkle, a lyrical lilt, a hearty laugh at the end of a story shared. I see an outline which fills in with warm flesh, hands open in kindness, a face with a smile lined in joyful wrinkles. I feel the energy breathing life which pulls me into your realm. I hear my name said in a voice welcome to my ears.

So real.
So real.

I keep reading the book.....somewhere, sometime, the head knowledge will seep down into my heartpocket. That will be when I may be able to let go. Maybe.

Until then? I sadly grieve on, with a hollow sigh wondering where in the world I am. For some reason, it is me who is invisible. Not you.

This week's theme prompt at Sunday Scribblings is "Where in the world?" Strangely, it took me to another one. For more (hopefully upbeat) interpretations, check out their blogsite....

soulmates

(dawn's early light...the view from my backdeck, june 8, 2009)

It happens in a flash

when you're least expecting it,

under sleepy eyes opening

to draw in a dawning of something very special.

In a blink,

two flames merge

channeling into one spirit

of effortless honesty and mutual understanding.

Soulmates....

move to a rhythm of blending lifetimes

and form from a mixture of tears and clay.

Simple yet deeply eternal

Clear yet vibrantly profound

Effortless yet energetically alive

Comforting yet soulfully emotional.

Pleasing yet discomfortably stretching.

Surprising yet divinely meant to be.

Spiritual beyond reason.

Rare beyond a dream come true.

Anything is possible when fate alights

like catching a firefly on a winter night.

When you encounter your soulmate, its like tasting mountain spring water from their cupped hands after a long walk alone in the high altitude. You have no idea where they have come from, but they arrive under a clear blue sky when there is a mutual need to quench each other's thirst.

this week's Sunday Scribblings (yeah I'm late....) is Soulmate..... For more kindred interpretations, check out their blog.

covert yearnings.....

Hidden behind twilight's sight, she stood alone. Her unspoken sentiments veiled in cool cotton secrets, summoned an awakening of fragile pleasures beneath the evanescence of daylight. She longed to let her secrets seep out of her thoughts as a freefall offering into bliss.

Under the cascading birth of stars weeping from the night sky, she let her white shift slip into an ebony of evening lace, transcending the purity of her pale lipped innocence. Her covert spirit blushed in tender newness scented with the essence of crushed lavender and apple blossoms.

With a smile masking bodystatic anticipation she stepped across the threshold, pulled by the magnetic force of deepening longing. Her elegant movements transformed the air filled with humidity into the clarity of dizzying thinness. The ripe moment had arrived to taste the bittersweet nectar of unbridled love. There was no turning back.

As she was about to reach the soul piercing pinnacle of her heightened secrets, she inadvertently alighted upon a hard protruding root causing her to lose her delicate balance. Her secrets spilled out with a rollicking force, lost inside her tumbling heart until she landed splayed out flat on her back with a shuddering thump. It took her breath away and left her shaken to her core.

Up above, the birthing stars continued to surrender tears. She looked up to cast a secret wish as one gloriously shot across the night sky in front of the knowing moon.......

This week's Sunday Scribblings prompt is "covert..." For more covert offerings, check out their blog.....

disconnected

twilight trembles

in the ancient echos of misplaced souls
and turns inward
absorbing the fading colour of others
leaving disconnected murmers

of unfulfilled desire
filling the emptiness of my heart.

inside the ancestral din
i hear your voice
pulling me back from the lonely edge of darkness
into a pinebow creche
nestled in the tall grass
layered in the down of soft comfort

cradled in your arms,
i feel your lips softly brush my nape
your warm breath reminding me of my existence,
reassuring me i'm not one of the lost souls.


it is only then my sigh settles into the twilight
connected to the warmth of your kindness.



The prompt this week at Sunday Scribblings is "disconnected." For more interpretations, check out their blog.

who me?

Colourful, fresh and fruity

a fusion of unforgettable iris accords

a radiant touch

a luminous favourite

embodies the mystery of seduction

captivates your senses

exudes confidence

Bright, alluring and timeless
attracts like a sparkling floral bouquet
vibrant, current, sets your spirit free...

unpredictable and unique
an audacious blend of dazzling floral and woody notes
marries freshness, vibrancy and feminity

bare skin beauty
natural luminosity
sexy, smokey
exceptional charm
dazzling, bewitching and highly sensual
enchanting sophisticated, without being too serious
even a little whimsical

irresistably luminous lips
tempts your senses
focused on promise, chance and happiness....

Playfully twists notions of feminity

and subtley grows richer and more sensual,

revealing the velvety interior of the rose.
WHO? Me?

Unfortunately, not me. I pulled these hot momma descriptors out of a flyer promoting perfumes and beauty products. Who writes this stuff? Do they get heated up and turned on while stirring inside those passionate adjectives, blending them into a scene of romance? Are these the same folks who write soft porn?

So here's my confession.....I would love to be described using these expressively sexy and dare I say LUMINOUS words.... I was named after my mother's favourite perfume after all, so it must mean I should qualify on some level doesn't it?

Hmmmmm.......let me take a sniff.....oh, yes this bare skin beauty does "exude an audacious fragrance that blends floral and woody notes....with a tantalizing touch of bergamot and a twist of citrus essence."

I have a dazzling ass too.

What the hell is bergamot anyways? It sounds mossy.

This week's theme over at Sunday Scribblings is confession....Got one??

a sigh, a cry and a hungry kiss....

The ladies in the Maritimes would exclaim...."He's right some sexy, that jeezly Leonard!" Filmed in his hometown last summer at the Montreal Jazz Festival.
I love this song....and the lyrics just make me smile and chuckle....teasely jeezly lyrics. enjoy!
ps. His Live from London CD is to be released tomorrow, and the concert will be televised on CBC. Hallelujah...!

regrets, i've had a few

sorrow weeps winter's blue light mourning

it's inner siren

strangles hopes with tangled tears

and

blankets dreams of youthful temptations

everlasting regrets awaken empty half breaths

it's quickened tempo

surges awareness with heated panic

and

sparks impulses resonating shameful memories.

refresh

refresh

relive

panic

relive

repress

repress

deny

refresh

refresh

awaken

relive

panic

admit

admit it

weep

weep

own it

own it

grieve

grieve

refresh

face it

own it

grieve

weep

learn

learn

learn

forgive

forgive

love

love

and dream again.

never let regret win

This week's Sunday Scribbling's prompt is regrets. We've all got a few. For more interesting perspectives, check out this site. You won't regret it.

I dare you...........

Express a new idea, write something deliciously unique, create a piece of art never seen before, dance like no one else......arms flinging and body gyrating while spinning and spinning, formulate a thesis that daringly asks a question many believe can't be answered, challenge the status quo, stretch out the boundaries of acceptability and you've entered into the realm of the scandalous.

Step out of the norm into the wilderness of the unknown, question society's common beliefs, march into a place of worship wearing a gypsy costume..........DANCE down the aisle and sit right up at the front with the family who has ALWAYS sat in that particular pew for generations. Sing the hymn from your heart boldly, shake everyone's hands and tell them they are all BEAUTIFUL. Wish them a glorious day...... Scandalous stuff!! Why? Because this behaviour is chaotically unpredictable, unexpected and it makes discomfort wake up.

JUMP out of your routine. Wear red. Did you know that research has shown that men are more attracted to a woman who wears red? It's true! I know that when I wear my shiny red rainboots with my powersuit, businessmen in their powersuits stop, stare and smile............AT MY FEET! So, what do i do? I make them TAP, TAP...... while I exclaim...."I DO have cute feet, don't I??? These boots make them smile!" After that, I often hear them mumble something that sounds like.........."she's bonkers........yeah, scandalous really......."

I love being scandalous......not really rudely or terribly disruptive, just a bit eccentrically. I love throwing a little extra spice into the savoury stew of life........love shaking things up, just a bit.....saying something a tad outrageous in the middle of a counselling session when the timing is right or when i'm teaching a class. It perks up the interaction, spreads some humour, takes someone out of their head when they need to get out of there for a breather. CRAZY? Why the hell not?

I have been known to make a very good analogy between what it feels like to wear a bra for the first time and learning how to apply a counselling technique to a mixed group I was teaching at the University. After a while, you don't feel the bra anymore.....after a while, counselling becomes second nature. See?

The women all nodded in complete understanding.......the men?? Some of them nodded, which of course made me wonder if they were secretly wearing a push up under their hoodies........no, I didn't ask...........just thought my own scandalous thoughts....... BUT, most of the guys in the class looked shocked and a bit dumbfounded.....possibly wondering who the hell it was that would hire a kook like me to teach crisis counselling....?? Then, I changed the analogy from a bra to a athletic protective cup and jock strap.......and they began to nod. Hmmmm.....now I'm wondering if they were wondering how i knew how uncomfortable a piece of rounded plastic protecting one's jewels feels like....??hmmmmm.......

Remember that scandalous craze called streaking in the 70's? Men and women impulsively stripped down to their bare essentials and dashed through crowded rooms, jumping and bouncing and flailing their netherbits like rogues gone wild. Hilariously daringly scandalous at the time, and people loved it. Well, probably not the anal retentive Bible thumper types who succumb to the vapors when the very idea of swaying ones hips is suggested. The whole wide world is scandalous in their eyes.........I mean if Tele-tubbie Tinky Winky, you know the one with the purse, can cause such a hocus-pocus ruckus because of the PURSE, well pale nakedness flying through a cafeteria would send them into a hyperventilating tailspin!

There is a juicy streaking story in my family, which at the time was really considered crossing the line of decorum. My father in law, known to all who loved him as Buzzie, was once in the Ontario cabinet in the high profile position of Solicitor General. Though he was known to be a bit of a rabel rouser and he always enjoyed a good joke, this time he was only in the dark on this one until the incident played out. Then, he heard about it. Turns out, he passed on the "government" Leafs tickets for a particular game to his adoring daughter, who in turn passed the ice level tickets onto a friend. The friend who had many outstanding debts and no money to pay them off decided he would set up the ulitmate bet..........he bet all the folks he owed money to that he could somehow manage to get onto the ice at Maple Leaf Gardens and run naked across the blue lines. SURE!

So, on the night of the game, buddy fella donned a one piece mechanics work coverall and headed off to the game.....at some point during a lull in the action, he unzipped, stripped and JUMPED over the boards an onto the ice..............slipping and sliding and hoping not to get too close to an errant skate blade........pumping his fists in the air! BETS all paid off!! oooooweeee! Of course, the sleepy sports writers (this was in the dark blue period of the Leafs history where they couldn't score if their lives depended on it, so there was very little to write about) scribbled the story and scrambled to find out just who owned the season's tickets! Oooops! The Government of Ontario.....thank you very much. Poor Buzzie was left with some 'splaining to do.

I'm sure it was really really embarrassing and very scandalous at the time. I wasn't part of the family then, so I don't know the intensity of the rage right after the incident. But, what I do know is that it has become one of the most cherished and funny stories to come out of the Buzzie's political years.

Funny, the more I think about the whole idea of this type of scandalous activity.....where no one is hurt......where morality is tickled, not stomped on, the more I feel that we don't pinpoint what is really wickedly wrong. A determined life inside a bubble and not breathing anything but stale air filled with old ideas is where i think the scandal lies..... yes, what is scandalous is living a life where discomfort is dismissed.

The prompt this week for Sunday Scribblings is scandalous.........the word just hisses off the tongue doesn't it? For more interpretations, check out their blog......right Here.

forbidden

Forbidden is awash in violent red splashes of X's, warning with fingerpointing assertions of do not enter. Forbidden is an uplifted drawing bridge across a foreboding moat filled with snapping dragons and choking weeds, wrapping around bodies too eager to cross over.

Just try your luck.

Forbidden is the tart taste of a red apple picked from the tree, crunched with abandoned, the juices dripping from a wanting mouth, satisfying need. Forbidden is the secret lusting desire fueled by the glowing heat of tantric temptations......a fruit more powerful than a disciplined mind can ward off.

Forbidden.

Verboten.

Forbidden is the unheard demand, lost in the crowded shouts and screams ripping through the waves upon waves of war horror, killings, rapes, desperate hunger....extreme, extreme evil. Forbidden is the lost word, thirsty to be revived as a challenging cry over the deserts where the sands' swirling whips echo back the message...........

..........Help me.

Can you hear the cry?

Forbidden are the broken boughs of lost blossoms in need of a few caring drops of water to satisfy a rough gravel thirst. Forbidden is the dictatorial kidnapping of liberty.......the torturous hooding of human beings tied up with wrist cutting ropes made of fear and threats.

And yet, we stand by and let it continue. Why?

Forbidden is the word this week for Sunday Scribblings. It's been a while since I played along. I've missed it. For more forbidden interpretations, check out Sunday Scribblings. Don't worry, you're allowed.

solace

The forlorn ache of a hardened heart grips onto the belief that solace is an illusion, like the distant twinkling of the stars. Comfort rings hollow, an echo lost in a canyon steeped in darkness and endless space thickened by the low hanging heavy air. Shallow anxious breath from a forsakened host keep the heart unfulfilled.

It takes intense energy to keep the hardened heart guarded from the army of feelings despite their continued attempts to advance close enough to pierce through the casing. Defense demands ever-tightened grips, causing numbness to seep into the constricted clench......until you can't feel anymore except lonesome notes lost in tones of abandonment.

Solace is a lost memory.
Wished tenderness of a forgotten friend.


As the grip grows tired, the guarded heart becomes tired too.......tired of feeling so alone, unwanted and untouched by beauty. A silent sigh seeps out of the hard casing, alerting the army of feelings to advance ...... perhaps ......... perhaps......

Illusions mask what can be found in the forgotten range of unchartered memories?

All at once the heart finds it's sorrow in it's aloneness and begins to weep. Feelings ambush the casing..... The hardened heart softens and bleeds red drops of relief, until the guard surrenders to the loving gaze of a forgotten friend. Solace plucks the lonesome heartstrings, reminding the heart that it truly does thrive in the coves hidden in the daylight.





This week's word prompt from Sunday Scribblings is solace........ For more cozy comfort, check it out.

bleeding heart guides.....

Isnt it funny how the most mundane tasks in life come packaged with instructions.....a guide to follow and refer to, and yet the most important things in life have no such thing? The self-help industry tries its very best to compensate, but most books, videos, and yappity CD's you can shove into the system in your car, miss the mark. Sure, they are full of sagely advice, information and deep thoughts, but they dont help with the biggies. They are promoted as the "answer to all your questions...." as "the key to your solutions......." as "the secret to success........" as "everything you needed to know........." so you think they would help with the biggies. But in reality, they don't. Neither does Oprah. Neither does Dr. Phil. Neither do any of the other high-falootin' Steven Covey/Tony Robbins types.

Lots of direction..........maps for life, mentors who guide, big brothers to teach, consultants who confuse, preachers who baffle.........life coaches who do what??? But when it comes down to the game of life, what do you REALLY get out from a guide of some kind besides confusion?

We have become co-dependents to the gurus out there who are making fast cash on our collective lack of self-confidence. And quite frankly, I dont know what came first, the people with the golden eggs of insight, or our inability to figure things out for ourselves. Did this self-help industry chip and strip away at our delicate balances by providing advice and marketing in a way that has made us second guess our own common sense or are we more messed up than previous generations? What did the folks before us rely on to figure it out? THEMSELVES! Don't you find it really strange that the people who have forked out the most moooo-laaaa to purchase the next best answer to their problems are still the most messed in the head?

It begs the question...........Will there ever be a guide to help us overcome our addictions to these self help navel gazing enforcers? Do we really need so much guidance? Whatever happened to simply getting on with it.............living our lives and learning from our mistakes (cause its ok to make mistakes.......perfection is a misguided concept.) and moving on?

Life is complicated because we human beings make it so. Personal growth, learning, loving and interacting is the most difficult tasks we can take on. I guess I am thinking tonight that perhaps we need to learn how to rely on ourselves to make decisions, to think things through, to reflect and pray and reflect some more and most importantly to learn how to love and how to connect with others. And the only way to learn how to do these things is to listen to our hearts.

The answers to the biggies are nestled in our hearts. If we are open to seek out the moments of feeling vulnerable when we are alone and when we are with another person........if we are open to expressing our truth as well as open to hearing it from someone else...........if we are open to understanding that life is a struggle of adding to our personal awareness, then a guide isn't necessary. A set of internal ears, which we all own no matter how closed minded we are, is all that is needed. We are our own guides. We just have to find the lost collective confidence by turning off the TV, by ignoring the yappity CD's, by turning off the talk show "you should do it this way" people and go with your heart.

The heart never lies...........it is there as our eternally internal, guide. And if we did this, think of the extra cash you'd have on hand to buy a bottle of wine and share it with a friend? Yes, a bottle of wine, some good music, a comfy spot in front of the fireplace.........no time constraints..........sounds therapeutic to me. It's too bad we're so busy striving for perfection that we miss out completely that we have the answers within hearts reach.

Sunday scribblings prompt this week is "guides." for more scribblings..check out this site.

an evensong for a special friend

settling silence

new to the air once filled with

strummed songs sung in harmonious inebriation

animated hilarity soaked in remember whens

crowd circled catch ups of stories

carrying a fabric woven together

in late night star threads

and fluming plumes of smoke littered in crackling sparks

laughter from the step dancing fire

drawing us nearer into glowing merriment.

Now, as the embers die down

voices find hushed tones

quiet cadences capture late night truths

steeped in sleep as they slip away from the firecircle

into the cooling dark

leaving us lost in our own unchartered time.

I just wanna go on with you....

huddled in hip touching intimacy

our lips whispering truths

only spoken when honesty finds eternity

near the pulling tides of time.

I just wanna go on with you

into the late night

where treasured secrets feed the glowing red embers

of barefoot cuddled warmth under a sandy blanket

We'll feed the fire

and settle into the new silence

before dawn steals the mystery

when our own embracing sleep will find us.

Written for Sunday Scribblings with youthful remembrance. The prompt this week is "my nights." For more offerings, check out their site.

our own composition.

A life fully lived is composed of a personal collection of seemingly ordinary moments which when pulled together create your own looping signature. It is the recognition upon reflection of the times when you have been touched by another's fingertips, and when you have reached out to hold the hand of another human being.

A life fully lived is felt in the deep breath of oxygen you inhale when you reach a milestone, accomplish a goal, stretch your capabilities, use your gifts to make this a better place to be. It is felt when the wind has been knocked right out of you as the swing you have been sitting on suddenly breaks and you land flat on your back with a thud.

It is seen in the glory of a new day, and heard in the weeping willow sorrow of heartbreak. It is the fresh effervescent essence of life's lemons after they have been squeezed with all your might. It's stored in the little things...........the twinkle of an eye, the wrinkle of a brow, the stubbed toe, the scraped knee, the salt left from a tear and in the smile of a friend carried in the memory of your soul.



This week's Sunday Scribblings prompt is "compose." For more symphonic pieces, check it out.

sticking your neck out........

I am always doing that which I can not do,

in order that I may learn how to do it.

Pablo Picasso

Most days remain uneventful because we tend to stay within the parameters that make up our routines. Before you know it, weeks can go by without a tangy taste of something challenging, a hint of newness always felt when we break out of the pattern. The motivational speaker Leo Bascaglia used to tell a story about his mother's number one rule........that you have to learn something new everyday. When he was growing up, the last question asked before bedtime was.......

Did you learn anything new today?

If Buscaglia or any of his family members couldn't think of anything, his mother would fetch the dictionary so that they could look up the definition of a word that was new to them. That story has always stayed with me.........and I often find myself asking the same question to my kids, and silently will ask myself. It's a good way to start a reflective review of the day, and to see if you were challenged even a little bit at least once.

Our life journeys, especially the stretching parts of it are heaped with times when we experiment................when we test new waters......... when we learn how to do something new. It can cause a great deal of discomfort initially as we figure it out, but I truly believe that the more experimental one is........the more fulfilling life can be. It's easier to lay low and go through the motions of our daily routine. And it's our choice to do just that. But, I guess I'm just not the type of person who can settle for a life without feeling the stomach butterflies, and adrenaline surge, the buzzing of anxiety when I've pushed myself into a different territory.

Writing for example is always an experimental process. I may have an idea, but it's not until I sit down to formulate the words that I know where I may be headed with a piece or a thought. Any art form feels that way for me. And like anything creative, you may be satisfied with 1 out of 10 attempts. And that's all right............not all experiments work. But, the thinking and imagination never stop growing even if the piece completely tanks.

Perhaps the odds are even more limited for other pursuits. Take photography, for instance. Usually I'm pleased with maybe one out of every 20 or 30 shots.....but i keep taking them while I test out new techniques, different "framing..." while I mess with the different and unknown settings on my camera to satisfy my wondering. Curiosity coupled with previous success keeps me trying.

Maybe that's the key to living a life that continues to be experimental?

We are more apt to be if we have felt success in the past. Our motivation is spurred on by our confidence and self talk......... "well, I tried something like that before and it worked, maybe I'll try again..........." If we aren't capable of pushing the limits, we will drop the attempts. Very quickly the self-talk turns negative. Very quickly the confidence to stick your neck out to TRY evaporates. I see this often with the people I work with everyday. For many who have found themselves stuck in the cycle of poverty, where their lives are an accumulation of failed attempts the very idea of moving out of a protective bubble is daunting. Too many failures, too many blows to the confidence and a person becomes shy to try. The barriers go up forming a wall that is sometimes just too high to clamber over.

When I'm working with someone who appears to be stuck in this frame of mind, I usually ask them about their hobbies........"what do you like to do?"......... we don't stick with a hobby if we don't experience some kind of satisfaction. We drop it. For example, I may be really keen to be a high jumper, but I'm not built to be one, so I drop it and continue to find a hobby that suits my abilities. Our "side pursuits" can often be the starting point for someone who has struggled with one failure after another. When they respond by describing their interest, you can SEE a change in their whole demeanor which then allows the conversation to expand into possibilities. All of a sudden, the discussion becomes more animated........the "feeling" changes while a spark is ignited again. It's a good place to start.

There are some people who have the capability of jumping into something new with both feet. There are some who will wade into it with some caution and with much more planning in place. There are some who will stop and start and stop and start because of an incessant feeling of trepidation brought on by a sense of not knowing the end results. We all have our own pace when it comes to new learning......to trying something out of our safe parameters. But, the ones who have never had a chance to try on a new set of wings..........? These are the people we need to stick our necks out for..... We need to take a chance on them, to offer our support and positive coaching from the sidelines as they learn how to try, try again.

new tracks, new journey

This week's prompt for Sunday Scribblings is Experimental...........

for more experiments, click here!