First

http://sd.keepcalm-o-matic.co.uk/i/keep-calm-i-m-number-one.png

(Source)

 

A first kiss,

A first glance

a first I love you,

a first dance.

A first breath taken

a first naked sight,

a first cuddle session

a first all night

a first hand held

a first hugged tight

a first tear falling

a first real fight

a first point of forgiveness

a first letting go

a first remembrance

a first icy floe

a first heart joining

a first sacrifice

a first combining

a first paradise

a first real knowing

a first wedding band

a first adult growing

a first real stand

a first decade together

a first homestead

a first storm weathered

a first child bred

a first job taken

a first car bought

a first laugh sated

a first joke caught

a first illness battled

a first bill of cost

a first realization

a first fear of loss

a first grateful heart

a first hand held so tight

a first comfort given

a first done just right.

Box up your crap. Part One: The Spirit Self

I’ve been noticing as the weather turns colder that our interactions with people are also turning the color of frozen smiles preparing for the daunting holidays. I hope this helps remind you of the warmth your spirit self possesses (not like a creepy ghostie, but it does fit the season at hand, does it not?)

Mare Martell

happy box

happy box (clipped to polyvore.com)


There are a lot of people doing what they need or have to do to get by in this world. They often sacrifice who they are in order to keep the peace, to meet the status quo, to maintain a balance no matter how precarious that may be in unhealthy emotional, intellectual, spiritual, or even physical realms. The lamentations of their despair become a litany of unresolved, unrecognized, and unheeded personal warnings. They have compromised more than they should have when faced with difficulties that, at the time, seemed insurmountable.

It may seem like one just can’t catch a break. Everything such as family issues, occupational hazards like co-workers or bosses, neighbors that fight at 2AM, they all seem to pile up around the edges of our minds, creep in until they become so daunting that curling up in a ball is the only…

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The wordless song

A Love Note

A Love Note

If I scatter my glittery mess on your shoes,

spewing peace and love like a good little muse,

you have two choices as far as I can tell,

you can sweep it aside or allow it to gel.

It’s hard to find darkness when you look to the light.

It’s hard to see peace when you’re ready to fight.

It’s hard to have compassion when you’ve become jaded.

It’s hard to see the colors when they’ve all become faded.

But.

If you listen to the sound of the grateful song,

you’ll remember the words and start singing along.

The joy you will feel as your heart catches fire

with the passion for living, loving and desire.

It will fill your bucket from bottom to top

with the world’s best laughter and the strangest of props.

Disappointment will become a thing of the past,

if you trust that the bad times, like the good times won’t last.

Grin at the absurdity presented each day,

wave at the jerks as they pass by your way.

Wish them the best as you let them slip by,

with a whistle on your lips and wink of your eye.

You’re the blessing they need if you don’t understand,

just be who you are wherever you may land.

 

THE VOCALIZED VERSION OF THE WORDLESS SONG

 

YIELD!

I’ve been curiously absent these last days from posting what normally is a lot of work. I try to schedule those, by the way, so that they don’t all hit at once. I suppose I could schedule them for different days but I post them that way for a reason. Think of it as clearing off my mental desk in preparations for the next idea (and there are some days with a LOT of them) to manifest.

I was working at a factory on a rotating shift. The days were 12 hours long and usually 2-3 in succession with 2-3 days off in between bouts. Back in May I had surgery on my foot to correct an ongrowing issue (my nerve had grown around one of my main foot arteries, good pun, eh?) and within a couple of months I felt amazingly good again. I could walk! I could dance! I could jog (sort of, think Mario running without turbo). I felt so good I applied for an got the job. For three months I worked diligently to maintain my personal belief and work ethic by being consistently in attendance, observant to detail, and team oriented. I believe I maintained that throughout my employment.

A few days ago, while working a position that required far more dexterity than my hands could handle, I lost feeling in my fingers. Not only did I lose feeling in my fingers but I lost grip as well. I could no longer hold onto the parts. My co-worker refused to switch jobs because she was fine. I explained that I was not. She refused again. I went and spoke with my supervisor and told her that I couldn’t feel my fingers and my hands wouldn’t hold onto the parts. She said, “Okay.” and walked away. When I don’t feel heard, my frustration level doesn’t take much to push me over the edge. I just plain waited until break and contacted my employer. I was told to go home, finish out the next day and they’d find me something else to do.

From my previous post The heated battle, you may recall that I’ve been struggling to find something better suited to my gifts, needs, and requirements of financial responsibility. I believe I’ve found this particular niche. Jamie Lopez asked me a peculiar question which incited ridiculous thoughts in my brain. I only half committed to her idea. But the thought was persistent. It stood up and plinked my forebrain like a form of water torture. It whispered, “You should do this. You should do this. You should do this.” I tried to ignore it, but it was really difficult when that’s all I could focus my attention on doing. I consulted with my Mama, tossing the idea in the air with clumsy juggles, sparking further ideas until the seed had firmly taken root. I let it rest in the “earth.”

Without much ado, a couple of nights ago, my Uncle Les called me. He’s not a frequent caller, but when he does, I always know that I’m so loved by him and my Aunt Liz that I look forward to when he has time. He called me up and asked me, “Hey, do you remember Jim Bob?”

“I do. That’s Aunt Liz’s nephew, right?”

“Yes. I was thinking about you and I usually do, by the way,” he continued.

“Thanks!” I interrupted.

“You’re welcome. Anyway, his wife works out of her home. I thought of you because you’re a compassionate woman and an excellent writer, I think you could do what she does.” He stated firmly. “I think you need to be doing this.” And he explained word for word what I’d talked to my mother, was inspired by Jamie, and pondered about for two weeks.

Now, I don’t know about you, but I’ve learned that paying attention to the omens when they come that clearly is a wise move. Otherwise, the Universe quits presenting the idea to you and gives it to someone else. In the past couple of days, I’ve retrieved my EIN (Employer Identification Number), set up a Paypal, applied for a business license, bought and started setting up a domain, secured an 877 number, and applied for information about advertising.

Although it may seem as if I’ve been slower than normal or that I’ve taken a vacation, I’m actually working towards being able to do what I love more than anything to do which is write for a living. This is scary stuff in my book, but I feel the have to becoming more prominent. It’s really strong and I know it’s right.

On November 3rd, I’ll be launching the site, the business, and making sure that I have myself priced accordingly. How weird is that? With the time on my hands right now, I can make sure that I’m able to deliver top quality of a valuable and perpetuating service that everyone will need. I’m so excited that your patience is allowing me this time to bring this idea into full bloom. Let’s see what happens, shall we?

Sin-seriously

I don’t want to know the killer’s name or how it did its deeds.
I want to know the wo/men’s lives because therein lies the key.
To make the dead, neither sinner nor saint
but to revive their lives that are stained with the taint
of the bloodied hands of a death most gruesome
the details don’t matter in all the confusion
except to remember the lives that were lost
not glorify the murderer of stolen future’s cost