Have you ever sat down and really thought about what brings you peace?
Have you ever contemplated in silence perhaps what really gives you that sense of total serenity and what you are willing to do to find and keep it?
I am sitting here thinking about just that and decided why not write about it. It’s funny but when I thought about serenity and peace, money was not the first thing to come to me. I didn’t think boy if I was rich I’d have peace. The first thing I actually thought of was an island paradise and silence.
Not the type with a huge hotel or luxurious amenities but a small island with clear blue water and simple palm trees with a hammock in between. A little cottage not far behind with a room full of books, the one I love, a warm fireplace in a cozy living room, dressed in pastel colors. That’s what sounds like serenity to me. There are no delusions of grand living in my dreams of peace, just simplicity.
I think deep down we all feel this way. I believe all we want is simplicity. The ability to live without having to stress about the most unnecessary things, all those things we think we can’t live without. The rub comes down to this.
What are you willing to do to get it?
Are you willing to live simply?
To give up all of those things you think you just can’t live without if it means you’d have that feeling of complete serenity?
Where is that place for you and are you willing to go there?
For me the answer is yes. Then again I have always been a simple person. Dialysis has taught me that life is not all it’s cracked up to be and neither are all those things we feel we can’t live without. It is surprising what we really “need” to live. If you were to really think on it you’d find it’s not much at all. I’ll even wager that if any of us were trapped in a paradise island like the one I dream of, few would refuse to stay. Most would give up the rat race and maybe even read a book.
May we all find our serenity soon.
Sometimes I wonder. I really do. Has the world really forgotten what a wife looks like? A real wife. I have been looking at these so called house wives shows lately and it baffles the mind! Most of these women are not even wives. They’re flings, jump offs or best of all, baby mommas. They’re users, gossips, gold diggers but very few are wives in any sense of the word. Love and marriage have become have beens.
Most have never been married to the men they claim and those who have are now divorced. Still, putting that aside their behavior is ridiculous and deplorable so much so that I find it hard to believe that these women have any kind of education. There can be no way that an intelligent woman can behave this foolish knowing that they will be landing in a t.v. near you very soon. The way they go about their day from shopping to the bar to the restaurants is laughable because you never see them doing anything remotely family or wifely oriented. I don’t know about you but I have been a wife and that’s not it! Then again I’ve never been a circus act either and that is what those shows are.
Their lives are as plastic as their figures. Made by rubbermaid. What annoys me is that they persist to pretend that their lives are so difficult. It must be so hard to leave your children in someone else’s care and go to the spa to get liquored up and discuss your so-called buddies in the vilest of manners. They continuously move around the world belittling other women and using the word friendship as a punchline when they’re so far from being friends it hurts. They throw down like Floyd Mayweather and Manny Paquiao pulling weaves like chewing gum. I’m more of a friend to them and I don’t even know them. Still the world eats it up and the ratings escalate with the level of hate and sad actions they show toward each-other. Every week we get another “reality” show about so-called wives and their broken lives but made to believe that their fabulosity at its best. Give me a bowl of nails and glass please!
Yet, if you disagree with this portrayal of a “wife”, you are labeled a “hater” because in this warped world we, as women must all want to live ratchet, self loathing fake lives as long as we own a Hermes bag and go to eat with made by Rubbermaid friends.
As for me I was raised to value womanhood, my friends are precious and marriage is a union that should be taken seriously. Still I don’t blame these women for who they are and what they do. I don’t know them or who they are when the cameras go off. I just know that we as a society need a little change and I pray it comes some day soon. I hope that the value of marriage and friendship grows and that the dollar becomes less valuable than character.
I know what you’re all thinking….. GOOD LUCK!! Still I have hope. Let’s see how it goes.
This is a question that I have always asked myself throughout all of my years of writing. Out of all of these years this is the first time I have actually sat myself down to write about it. I have been writing since I was 13 years old. That would be about 30 years now since I first put pen to paper. I fell in love with the written word at the library, the school library to be exact because back then though I knew book stores existed I had never been to one. Buying books was not on the top of the list when your single mom is working hard just to keep food on the table.
The library was my haven. Everything I could digest I read. My first favorite was Romeo and Juliet by Shakespeare. I must have read it at least three times. I didn’t understand it the first time but I remember the exact moment I did understand it and that I was hooked! After that first understanding books became everything to me. I traveled with and through them everywhere. I read fiction, non fiction, poetry, art, traveling magazines, everything that peaked my interest.
Still, although I wrote, I did not begin to write poetry until I was 17 years old. I don’t remember exactly how I began to write poetry or what inspired me. I took college writing courses but those were vested mostly in english literature which was my major.
I just loved writing. It became my passion along with reading but I was not attracted to short stories or to being a novelist my work always seemed to take poetic form from the beginning. Even my thought process came in spurts and one liners. It has always been difficult for me to write something that is not poetry but it doesn’t stop me from trying. I am a writer after all.
That is why I have always questioned if poetry is learned or if you are born a poet?
I was born a poet although I know that reading opened me up in many ways. My vocabulary and understanding have grown immensely through my love of reading and many of my teachers and professors enhanced and nourished that love but i believe that I was already a poet. I needed only to discover it within myself and develop it. In my opinion you are born who you are going to be, talents intact. Just as musicians are born with an ear for music and painters with an eye for art, I was born with the mind and hands for words.
So, I guess I answered my own question, but what do you think?
I love art and artists of all kinds. I love painters and poets, novelists, designers, singers, song writers, producers, bloggers, scrap book makers, just all kinds of artists.
There’s something about being around a creatively infused person that makes me very happy. Have you noticed that most artists have more than one talent? A writer can sometimes paint or draw as well or maybe has an eye for art. I have seen it so many times the beauty of creativity. We have been given a gift that makes the world brighter and beautiful at the same time.
We inform and educate others in a lovely way that makes them want to really see things differently. There is nothing like seeing the world through an artists eyes. A cake tastes better when a fabulous baker makes it. An aria can bring you to tears through a melodious voice. A book can take you throughout the world when you see it from the perspective of a fabulous writer.
Communing with artists is an experience that brings you out of yourself. It can make you forget all your issues and for a moment, enlighten your existence. Even when I’ve had the hardest day I can go to a spoken word event and have a great time listening to everyones poetry and point of view. I can go to a museum and my eyes and mind are bathed in miracles. I can simply walk through central park and listen to the most gracious of musicians. It gives me the greatest sense that we are all united. We all have problems and I can understand yours and you mine.
And so I write, because I must. There is no way I can just not write. For most of us our art is this way, we are called to it. There is that pull within us to create and so we do. Our blessing are abundant! No matter how many times I may get blocked in my writing I always find an artistic way to express myself.
I am grateful every day and with Gods given grace I will create every day until my last.
Keep creating! My glass and praise I raise to you all!!!
I find that it is so important to have a community of writers who you actually commune with. A group of writers weather in person or on line who can offer us camaraderie. Few of us have this. Most of us are independent writers blowing in the wind like so many leaves from the same oak tree. Looking for that like minded group that will give us that boost we need to keep us going when our passion wanes.
Some of us are bloggers, some poets, others novelists yet we can all agree we are writers with something to say. Still, so often I see no community, no real love between each other.Isn’t what we have chosen to do about communication? Aren’t we about communing so we can learn and teach, express and create and above all, share.
Many get so caught up in the numbers of who is following who or who is reading what, I won’t read him cause he didn’t read me. What ever happened to simply reading and commenting on what you have read with an open heart and a desire to value the writer for him or herself? Why have we become so in love with being famous in our mommas kitchens that we have forgotten the true value of what we are.
We are creators! Motivators, wordsmiths. We are here to inform and give those who don’t have one, a voice. We are here to put the word in motion so lets do that. Let’s celebrate each other. Let’s commune and remember that we are a unit.
WE ARE WRITERS! LET US UNITE!
Ever since NaPoWriMo I have not written another poem. It’s as if that event and having to come up with 30 poems in 30 days zapped all of my creative zest. This is certainly not the first time this inexplicable situation has happened to me, it’s one of many and sadly it always takes me a while to resuscitate myself from it.
It’s not that I haven’t been writing at all. I have put a few things together since then, just not poems. It’s as if this feeling of nothing to say and what’s the point just takes over and I’m numb. I try to find inspiration in anything and everything but even the desire to find a spark that might ignite my dull drums fails me.
Sometimes it’s depression I think and sometimes it’s the lack of a point to continue. Not that I could ever stop writing, it’s the way I get the pretty and the poison out after all. Still the desire is like a car without a battery. It just sits there collecting rust and so I blog about it because the words though not in the form of poetry are my catalyst to not feeling entirely useless.
Perhaps the rain got to me and on the day I got wet the rain washed away all of my poetic purpose for the time being. Whenever this happens to me I read. I immerse myself in other writers characters and live in their world for a while. I have read 2 books in seven days. I’m now on my third book. I work on replenishing words in my psyche every time I can’t poetize my feelings. It’s the best way I have learned to feel full and ready to begin again thus far. So here I go again in the blocked world of Bloo. Soon I hope to have a fresh new perspective and the words to express it. As for now it’s blogging and breaking down the block for me.