We have to choose joy…

So true…from purplerays.wordpress.com

Purplerays

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“Joy does not simply happen to us.
We have to choose joy
and keep choosing it everyday.”

~ Henri J.M Nouwen

~ Image “Full of Life” by Alberto Di Donato
Text & image source: ॐ Nature Heals, Nature Reveals ॐ https://web.facebook.com/%E0%A5%90-Nature-Heals-Nature-Reveals-%E0%A5%90-729612107082182/

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Give Way

I love these words…

The Stories In Between

It’s strange sometimes

The distance, space

Around us

How it gives way

As we all move

In different directions

Here and there

Back and forth

But always within

The confines

Of what we know

Do we dare

Break these lines

Step out

Into something

We may not

Understand

To taste

A life free

Of this need

For structure

Expectations

Conformity

give way

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“…By writing at the instant, the very heartbeat of life is caught.”

Love this…

Art of Quotation

“The secret of it all is to write in the gush, the throb, the flood of the moment–to put things down without deliberation–without worrying about their style–without waiting for a fit time or place. I always worked that way. I took the first scrap of paper, the first doorstep, the first desk, and wrote–wrote, wrote…

…By writing at the instant, the very heartbeat of life is caught.”

– Walt Whitman, American, poet, writer (photograph by Thomas Eakins)


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We’re Running Out of Toilet Paper!

Love it!

My Good Time Stories

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We all know the trials and tribulations that we have all experienced during this difficult time of the COVID pandemic. During the time that people were frantically going to stores and buying out certain items…such a toilet paper, I came across the following poem on Poetry 4 Kids. I thought this would be something fun to share! Enjoy!

We’re Running Out of Toilet Paper

We’re running out of toilet paper.
Paper towels too.
We haven’t got much Kleenex left.
I’m not sure what we’ll do.

We tried to buy some yesterday.
We went to every shop,
but all the shelves were barren
from the bottom to the top.

We called our friends to see
if they had extra we could borrow,
but they said they have just enough
to last until tomorrow.

Our roll is almost empty now.
A solitary square
is hanging on the holder and
it’s…

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Follow the Signs, I Won’t Always Be Here

Jeremy and Bailey

My dear child,

Tonight, I sat next to you as you drove home in your first vehicle. You asked me questions as we drove. “Do I turn on my blinker here?” “Do I need to start slowing down yet?” “What’s the speed limit here?”

And I heard myself say it…

Follow the signs. I won’t always be here.

After those words came out of my mouth, you responded with, “That’s true.” You slowed down when you saw reduced speed warnings, you slowed down when you came to those yellow curve signs, and you set your cruise at a safe speed until you found one of those handy speed limit signs. While we were talking about driving, the words were bittersweet for so many reasons. It’s just true. I won’t always be here, and I pray you know how to follow the signs of life to help you make good decisions.

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Pandemicitus

Exactly…

Mommy Writes A Book

The act of holing up at home and liking it.

Symptoms may include but are not limited to:

Avoiding all news and social media, as well as the laundry.

Leaving people on read for extended periods of time, ranging from 2-3 days.

Excessive Pinterest rabbit holing and pinning shit you will never look at again.

Inability to change clothing for 2 days.

Crocheting.

Opting for a bandana instead of a mask.

Irritability in forced social interactions with people who are obviously bored easy and more needy than you.

Overuse of toilet paper, because you have enough to last till July and need the storage space.

Going outside to throw a football because you miss sports.

Texting every ex going back 2 years to “check on their covid status”.

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All Your Perfects

I just LOVE this piece. Check out this awesome writer.
https://xfiniteblog.com/2020/04/04/all-your-perfects/

XFINITE

If you only shine light on your flaws, all your perfects will dim. ― Hoover

xfinite_All Your Perfects

Here’s the thing. Anyone can be beautiful if you know how to look. And that also includes you. It is unrealistic to assume that you can see all the perfects in everyone. It is also a little narcissistic if you stare at your naked reflections all day.

Until our fears can be written in our flesh, our imperfections continue to be infinite. We beat ourselves up every day. We form a villain version of everyone we know and give them permission to suffocate our souls. We create stains in our once beautiful colors, darkening every thought we ever have.

It is so easy to keep catching flaws, blaming our parents for our demons. We never stop to think they are dealing with their own demons every day. All we do is generate battles that should…

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Resolution

Love this poem…

oldmainer

And as he closed the door
On an outer world
Infused with doubt and fear
He turned to look anew
Upon what now remained

Within this edifice
This wooden womb
Exists his survival
Alone among millions
Surrounded by none

But here he lives
As always he has
Where his life
Has laid at anchor
Secure within his harbor

Why then need he now
Mourn the loss of the beyond
Though foreign to his touch
Still conquers the eye
Awaits his recall

Suspended but not lost
The habits of a lifetime
Mold themselves as one
Into his today
Shaping his tomorrow

He will wait, in silence
For the coming dawn
A new day, a new world
Renewed by isolation
Restored by the faith of man

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Story Of Darkness

Love this, especially today as we all struggle to make sense of it all.

Better than yesterday

“You can’t skip chapters in life, that is not how it works. You have to read every line, meet every character. You won’t enjoy all of it. Hell, some chapters may make you cry for weeks. You will read things you don’t want to read you will have moments you don’t want pages to end. But you have to keep going. Stories keep evolving. Live yours, don’t miss out.
Quote: Pillow Thoughts II
Image: Lily Saunders

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ASH

Beautiful words…

I looked round today and
all I saw was ash,
The ash of my life, spent,
The flame gone out, dead dreams on the ground in rubble.

The scene was bleak, my eyes
Beheld no beauty,
All was ugly, spent now,
I stood there stripped, knowing I could not pick up ash.

Dreams disintegrated,
Hope gone for ever,
Nothing to re-ignite,
Barrenness was my empty companion today.

But suddenly I heard
A voice, saying “Sing,”
What song could I sing now,
Here in this strangest of strange lands, alien now?

The voice insisted, “Sing”
I opened my mouth,
But no sound would come out,
“ Tell me how to sing,”
“Caged birds can sing, but you don’t have a cage, just sing.”

I looked around again,
I couldn’t see ash,
I saw the makings of
A new world, building bricks,
Beauty from ashes, I opened my mouth and sang.

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To Be Honest

Great outlook…

Eyes + Words

Written by Jacob Ibrag

I’m not sure where this is going. Everyone seems to have a clear opinion on the recent happenings. And to be honest, I don’t really know how to think about any of this.

I feel helpless, an emotion that seems to have made a home in me. I keep thinking about my loved ones. I keep thinking about everything I’ve neglected, like writing.

This virus feels like a wake up call. It’s like this nagging alarm clock that’s burrowed its way into my eardrums. And I would love to say that I have finally awoken, but that doesn’t seem to be true. I’m on autopilot mode, watching myself continuously walk into a closed door. I’m not even sure what’s on the other side, but I have this built in need to get there.

There are these responsibilities we all had and still have. There is an…

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Far Away

Beautiful and needed now more than ever…

Source of Inspiration

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So far I must travel,
You seem so far away.
How can I believe that
I am from You when Your
love is so pure and mine
moves with the tides?

You say there is no
distance between us.
I am like a child
looking in the wrong
end of a telescope.
How can I long for
He who fills my every
cell, my heart, my soul?
Come closer, Lord.

The distance, my child,
indicates the size of your
task. Nothing is hidden.
The more you desire to be
one with me, the more you
draw the Divine light,
illuminating what you are
ready to see. I will always
be with you for you are
part of me.

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Seasons of love

On a positive note…

Didis Art Design

Eyes touch in the meeting
Spring in the air
Hearts are beating
Ready to pair

Sleeping feelings arise
Carefully, tender, stretching
From snow and ice
Sun-light catching

Breathing the summer wind
Gently wafting through the hair
Leaving a beautiful tint
Of love in the air

Somersaults in feelings
With hay odour around
Old wounds are healing
In light and sound

Farewell of storm and heat
Of buzzing life and noise
To harvest ready seed
Where autumn gives a choice

Past voices falling off like leaves
In coloured dress of patience
Love is growing, thrives
Has no masks nor agents

Hearts calmly beating
In winter silence covered
Send from depth a greeting
Where nothing can be suffered

Love is always present
Never dies in time
It is an endless present
A light of cosmic shine

DidiArtist, 10.05.2012

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Today’s Quote

Words to comfort at Soul Gatherings.

Soul Gatherings

        Josephine Walls Josephine Walls

I always think that we live, spiritually,
by what others have given us
in the significant hours of our life.
These significant hours
do not announce themselves as coming,
but arrive unexpected.

~ Albert Schweitzer ~
_____________________

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If I Die First

WOW. So beautiful, sad and bittersweet.

Sarah Russell Poetry

No one could give better instructions than Wendy DeGroat does in this poem.  Her chapbook Beautiful Machinery was published last year.  You can read more about Wendy here.

After the burning’s done, pour
what’s left in a Mason jar—nothing new,

but one washed clean of applesauce or pickled beets,
the clear kind that kids keep fireflies inside.

Let my cinders rest there
like sand art in jelly jars carried home from the fair.

If the small or gray of me unsettles you,
pin flannel or fleece around the glass,

leaving a gap, thumb-wide, under the rim, enough
to let sun and moonlight in. Store me beside the poetry.

When it feels right, talk to me, sing, or sit by quietly.
For a wheel of seasons, take me down. Hold me open—

to campfires, fallen leaves, a lilac’s laden bough.
Press me deep in moss and snow.

When my birthday…

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On Writing

Yes. Beautifully described.

Moonbeams & Kisses

It’s not so much that I found words, as they found me. I learned as a child not to draw attention to myself. Everything was safer that way, but it also meant that I became a silent observer of my life, sometimes of life in general. And though I rarely spilled my words, I could taste them like sparks dancing on my tongue. I’d lose myself in books, reveling in the words of others while too afraid to speak my own. The thing about words is that you can’t undo them, and that’s utterly terrifying. But there’s freedom in the release—in the fact that you can breathe life into your thoughts with ink. And whether others love your words or hate them, they are your own to lay bare. It is a cleansing of sorts. It heals.

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Your Super-powers

Rhapsody Bohème

We each have our own superpower, and this is the perfect time to cultivate it, or perhaps learn more about it. I believe that I found one of my superpowers last year in April when I stumbled upon energy healing and studied to become a Reiki Master, amongst other modalities. To say the least, it has been life changing for me, not only in the sense of my own healing, but also in the sense of bringing healing and a sense of peace and balance to others. Others who are searching for answers and are in need of positivity and hope. I believe this is such a time, and the world needs hope right now. I mean the world as in a sense of humanity and the people, because Mother Earth is healing just fine. The signs are evident every day, as our carbon imprint lessens and nature is finding…

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‘they say you spend your whole life rewriting the first poem you ever loved.’ – author unknown

I didn't have my glasses on....

national geographic.com

‘breathe in experience, breathe out poetry’ – muriel rukeyser

—-

in honor of national poetry day

image credit: nationalgeographic.com

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Baggage

Wow. This one floored me. Check out Christine’s blog.❤❤❤

Brave & Reckless

she had accumulated
a certain amount
of “baggage”
she was forced to
take with her
where ever she went
it would be
rude
thoughtless
to leave it behind
make the care, keeping
of her personal baggage
someone else’s responsibility

she pictured her baggage as
brightly colored balls
floating in a swimming pool
red
blue
yellow
white
black
she avoided touching the
black balls with her
bare skin
they had a tendency
to snarl
bite
draw blood
crunch bone

neat, tidy labels identified them
recurrent nightmares
flashbacks
abandonment
rejection
humiliation
failure
unrequited love
divorce
the list went on
there was a white ball
for each of her dead
She did not like to
count the white balls
it made her too sad

she discovered that
it was hard to go about
her day to day business
with these balls
pushing their way to the surface
penetrating her consciousness
insistent
demanding
wanting her…

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Savoring You

Heartstring Eulogies

“I felt the burn of your touch.
And I needed you like air in my lungs.”

I felt the burn of your touch, like your skin was molten, searing me like a brand. And I wanted you to touch me everywhere. Because I needed it — needed you like I needed air in my lungs.

The carnal fury in your gaze was just as hot. The flames dancing in your irises. The predatory look as your eyes dragged up and down over me. It was like you could see right through me and knew exactly what I needed from you. And that small smile — that devilish grin on your face told me you’d take your time making sure you’d do each and every one of those things.

In those moments, I wanted to savor every moment. I wanted to take my time getting to know the way your skin…

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What is Normal? Who gets to decide?

Live your Best Life

What is Normal? Who is Normal? Did someone really get to decide what is and isn’t normal? These are my random thoughts at 4 am lol. My mind is always going, never stops unless I am “trying” to practice some meditation or some yin yoga. Ok, lets get back to it…….

Are you willing to base your entire life off of someone else’s version of “Normal?” What is actually considered normal?

Is it the married man, with a wife , and three kids. Or is it the married man with three kids and a Husband?

Could normal be pink hair on a 50 year old woman? Or would it be more normal for a 18 year old to rock the pink hair?

What about the kid who wants to wear his protective superhero shields everywhere he goes, is that normal? Or the little girl who hates anything girly and is…

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