There are people who become discouraged because they do not fit someone else's mold of success. But who says that the sea turtle is any way less worthy of life than the land tortoise. Who says the land tortoise has more clout than the starfish, or the fragile yet beautiful sea corals?
What of the predators of the deep that are so hideous that even the CREATOR gave them an environment to where they cannot even see themselves in the reflection of the sunlight in the open crystal seas?
We are different. We are changing. We are worthy of all that we are supposed to be, not what others feel in their own imagination...for their vision is theirs...our vision is ours...but without God NONE of us has a vision.
So set your pace to the tune of the change you desire in your life.
Have a wonderful autumn of change, and a live full of vibrant expectancy!
cynthyareed.com
Showing posts with label life. Show all posts
Showing posts with label life. Show all posts
07 October 2011
27 January 2009
broken miRRor
70,000 plus families are in the blood red flow of a massive recession. Things are MUCH worse overseas. We are a land where we know HOW to bounce back. But maybe that's lost because we as a society expect INSTANT change.
Change that lasts is never instant. Change that lasts never comes sitting on ones hands. And change that sticks and stays means someone made a decision to change forever, for the better--no matter what it takes.
Article: broken miRRor.
Check it our at The Authors Den
20 November 2008
Diva Dust
Taco Salad. That's what I love to cook when I don't feel like cooking. And talking about cooking, unless it's about someone else doing it--makes me break out in psychological hives as the holidays approach.
Just as I was cleaning up today's dishes --- and I could kiss the woman who came up with the idea for an automatic dishwasher that a man more than likely got credit for inventing--this one truth flitted through my mind during my collective strawberry scented suds-busting session.
Those who entertain for the holidays, must also feel the pressure of cleaning EVERYTHING for the holidays.
So what's so merry about that? (Stop sitting there wondering. It was me who asked you first!)
The best holidays I can remember are the times when I was totally left alone and in a writing mood. You know there's something about the fact that in the times of habitually materialistic-seeking seasons just makes the writer in me want to find an abandoned spot at Mammoth Cave and hide out with a flashlight, a 10-pack of 99 cent store ball point writing pens, some Doritos, bottled green tea and a ream of freshly recycled paper to honor the forest in my midst. But back to the cleaning bit. . .
And my home would be dubbed by my relatives who think I'm "the weird one" as uninhabitable for the holidays. Truth be told, do any of us as writers really want to entertain anyway? I don't know about you but outside of my own children, I don't really care to pursue the acceptance of anyone's Martha-Stewart tastes who cannot accept me for the "comfy" person that I am. But I do have my limits.
If you, like myself, consider yourself a holiday homebody who has a favorite pair or shoes, robe, boxer shorts or even if you just like typing naked....(cover the chair others may be sitting where your bare butt left its cheekmarks) then you might appreciate my limits on "clutter vs. diva dusty clutter." Figure out the comfy for yourself. I'm gonna deal with the "diva dusty."
Diva dusty means there is so much dust in your home that the dust mites collaborate to formed a union.
Diva dusty means that the cat wants to go outside in the daytime.
Diva dusty means the roaches are evicting YOU!
Diva dusty means that your brand new upright vacuum cleaner is sagging.
Diva dusty means that every where you walk in your house, a stranger can come in and tell exactly where you've been.
Diva dusty means the dust-bunnies under your bed have become dust-zombies.
Diva dusty means your bookshelves have track marks.
Diva dusty means you really don't have an allergy to dust at all...you have an allergy to Endust.
And finally. . .
Diva dusty among writers is so popular that we could all collect it in a fruit jar and say we bought the ashes of Edgar Alan Poe. When dust moves from a comfortable clutter to a platform used for finger-art, it's time to call the family together not for the holidays, but for an emergency intervention.
So if you find yourself wanting to send the muse on vacation so you can "deck dem halls" for the holiday season, if the waxy buildup is more than enough to make a tea-light candle, don protective gear and a filtration mask.
Whatever you do, REMEMBER TO BE KIND TO THE BUNNIES! (YOUTUBE VIDEO)
That's my rap...now takin' a nap!
blessin's,
cynth'ya
Just as I was cleaning up today's dishes --- and I could kiss the woman who came up with the idea for an automatic dishwasher that a man more than likely got credit for inventing--this one truth flitted through my mind during my collective strawberry scented suds-busting session.
Those who entertain for the holidays, must also feel the pressure of cleaning EVERYTHING for the holidays.
So what's so merry about that? (Stop sitting there wondering. It was me who asked you first!)
The best holidays I can remember are the times when I was totally left alone and in a writing mood. You know there's something about the fact that in the times of habitually materialistic-seeking seasons just makes the writer in me want to find an abandoned spot at Mammoth Cave and hide out with a flashlight, a 10-pack of 99 cent store ball point writing pens, some Doritos, bottled green tea and a ream of freshly recycled paper to honor the forest in my midst. But back to the cleaning bit. . .
And my home would be dubbed by my relatives who think I'm "the weird one" as uninhabitable for the holidays. Truth be told, do any of us as writers really want to entertain anyway? I don't know about you but outside of my own children, I don't really care to pursue the acceptance of anyone's Martha-Stewart tastes who cannot accept me for the "comfy" person that I am. But I do have my limits.
If you, like myself, consider yourself a holiday homebody who has a favorite pair or shoes, robe, boxer shorts or even if you just like typing naked....(cover the chair others may be sitting where your bare butt left its cheekmarks) then you might appreciate my limits on "clutter vs. diva dusty clutter." Figure out the comfy for yourself. I'm gonna deal with the "diva dusty."
Diva dusty means there is so much dust in your home that the dust mites collaborate to formed a union.
Diva dusty means that the cat wants to go outside in the daytime.
Diva dusty means the roaches are evicting YOU!
Diva dusty means that your brand new upright vacuum cleaner is sagging.
Diva dusty means that every where you walk in your house, a stranger can come in and tell exactly where you've been.
Diva dusty means the dust-bunnies under your bed have become dust-zombies.
Diva dusty means your bookshelves have track marks.
Diva dusty means you really don't have an allergy to dust at all...you have an allergy to Endust.
And finally. . .
Diva dusty among writers is so popular that we could all collect it in a fruit jar and say we bought the ashes of Edgar Alan Poe. When dust moves from a comfortable clutter to a platform used for finger-art, it's time to call the family together not for the holidays, but for an emergency intervention.
So if you find yourself wanting to send the muse on vacation so you can "deck dem halls" for the holiday season, if the waxy buildup is more than enough to make a tea-light candle, don protective gear and a filtration mask.
Whatever you do, REMEMBER TO BE KIND TO THE BUNNIES! (YOUTUBE VIDEO)
That's my rap...now takin' a nap!
blessin's,
cynth'ya
Raindance
The resilience of spirit is far underrated in times of uncertainty and change. Never should any of us forget that we are bigger than our circumstances, and more factual about own own lives than Wall Street and CNN.
To move forward, we have to all continue to believe that we are not equal to the circumstances that surround us. God is not the author of junk nor of castaways. That's humanity's mistake, not God's. We all need to beware of the negative spirits that bring about death of the mind, soul and eventually body from the negative toxins that are created when we are stressed and frustrated. So what is one solution?
Well, you're reading it. They are words. Let them travel through your soul. I pray you find your journey most pleasant, and your destination one that welcomes the positive changes you are soon to discover. Just keep on the right road. Clouds may look loathsome in our lives, but it is the cloud that holds the rain of regeneration.
So let's all join hands, and dance in the rain.
P.S. Words are all around us. But words also have an ultimatum based on the purpose of those who put them out into the hard-copy and wireless universe. Somewhere in the bible there is a passage about the power of the princes of the air.
(Truth is I would look it up but then I'd lose my train of thought to the thief called "short term memory due to sleep deprivation-by-choice, or as I call it, "Muse overload due to massive invasions of inspiration." So I'll just keep on typing. Maybe looking up the passage might help people discover a spiritual truth or two,
God bless y'all. . . that's my rap.
cynth'ya
To move forward, we have to all continue to believe that we are not equal to the circumstances that surround us. God is not the author of junk nor of castaways. That's humanity's mistake, not God's. We all need to beware of the negative spirits that bring about death of the mind, soul and eventually body from the negative toxins that are created when we are stressed and frustrated. So what is one solution?
Well, you're reading it. They are words. Let them travel through your soul. I pray you find your journey most pleasant, and your destination one that welcomes the positive changes you are soon to discover. Just keep on the right road. Clouds may look loathsome in our lives, but it is the cloud that holds the rain of regeneration.
So let's all join hands, and dance in the rain.
P.S. Words are all around us. But words also have an ultimatum based on the purpose of those who put them out into the hard-copy and wireless universe. Somewhere in the bible there is a passage about the power of the princes of the air.
(Truth is I would look it up but then I'd lose my train of thought to the thief called "short term memory due to sleep deprivation-by-choice, or as I call it, "Muse overload due to massive invasions of inspiration." So I'll just keep on typing. Maybe looking up the passage might help people discover a spiritual truth or two,
God bless y'all. . . that's my rap.
cynth'ya
Surviving The Times
Oh those 1930s! If a family could survive & thrive back there you knew how to recycle your stuff. We didn't need any green commercials or foundations to teach us how to shake out a bread sack and put it over our shoes to keep our feet from getting wet because the boots were out of the budget. My parents, all three of them, were from that era. But what I wish I could have experienced was the resilience to deal with pain and tough times.
"Tough times don't last. Tough people do." Isn't that how the saying goes?
Well my friends, we need to correct ourselves. The times not getting tough. The times ARE tough! But what's that got to do with your success in anything?
Some of the most notable figures grew up in tough times. We read about them in success magazines. Do the names "Robert Kiyosaki" or "Donald Trump" or "Albert Einstein" ring a bell? How about "Oprah Winfrey?" Or "Sarah Breedlove (a.k.a. Madame CJ Walker, who was the first FEMALE millionaire in this country at a time when no one believed a black person living in America was any good for anything than cleaning a mansion and this woman owned TWO of them!
These men and women were not born in ideal situations. They didn't listen to the news around them that until things got better around them that they could not do better for themselves.
But there were born in times when they were taught that if you wanted something, they you have to go after it with a passion.
And if anyone tried to stop you from pursuing your passion with a vengence, or try to discourage you because of their own lack of a spine, then you just had to do what you had to do.
Maybe you are called "unrealistic" for wanting something that the majority of people never think they will ever achieve. Well I got a bit of news for your naysaying friends and family and neighbors.
NAYSAYING NIBBY-NOSE NEGATIVITY NEGOTIATING NON-ACHIEVERS ARE NOT YOUR PROBLEM. If anything, if their lack of belief in you is your kryptonite, then get away from them and surround yourself with people who will give you the Superman or Superwoman cape of protection you need to fly as high in the stratosphere of success as you choose to go.
The sky is not your limit....you 've got an entire galaxy to conquer. And if you don't go after it and discover what it is when everyone else is turning tail and running to hide behind the news, then I'll see you when you get there.
That's MY rap, blessin's 2 ya,
cynth'ya
P.S. Ever stop to ponder--and I could be mistaken--that perhaps the core reason our nation is in the shape it's in right now, exactly 70 years from the first GREAT DEPRESSION is that those values that forged our ancestors of the 1930s were no longer necessary. Everything because instant and automatic. We forgot as a nation how to wait on change. Perhaps we even forgot how to wait on God.
"Tough times don't last. Tough people do." Isn't that how the saying goes?
Well my friends, we need to correct ourselves. The times not getting tough. The times ARE tough! But what's that got to do with your success in anything?
Some of the most notable figures grew up in tough times. We read about them in success magazines. Do the names "Robert Kiyosaki" or "Donald Trump" or "Albert Einstein" ring a bell? How about "Oprah Winfrey?" Or "Sarah Breedlove (a.k.a. Madame CJ Walker, who was the first FEMALE millionaire in this country at a time when no one believed a black person living in America was any good for anything than cleaning a mansion and this woman owned TWO of them!
These men and women were not born in ideal situations. They didn't listen to the news around them that until things got better around them that they could not do better for themselves.
But there were born in times when they were taught that if you wanted something, they you have to go after it with a passion.
And if anyone tried to stop you from pursuing your passion with a vengence, or try to discourage you because of their own lack of a spine, then you just had to do what you had to do.
Maybe you are called "unrealistic" for wanting something that the majority of people never think they will ever achieve. Well I got a bit of news for your naysaying friends and family and neighbors.
NAYSAYING NIBBY-NOSE NEGATIVITY NEGOTIATING NON-ACHIEVERS ARE NOT YOUR PROBLEM. If anything, if their lack of belief in you is your kryptonite, then get away from them and surround yourself with people who will give you the Superman or Superwoman cape of protection you need to fly as high in the stratosphere of success as you choose to go.
The sky is not your limit....you 've got an entire galaxy to conquer. And if you don't go after it and discover what it is when everyone else is turning tail and running to hide behind the news, then I'll see you when you get there.
That's MY rap, blessin's 2 ya,
cynth'ya
P.S. Ever stop to ponder--and I could be mistaken--that perhaps the core reason our nation is in the shape it's in right now, exactly 70 years from the first GREAT DEPRESSION is that those values that forged our ancestors of the 1930s were no longer necessary. Everything because instant and automatic. We forgot as a nation how to wait on change. Perhaps we even forgot how to wait on God.
05 October 2008
Tears
Current time looking back: Three days.
A period of 72 hours. Period of grace or healing from an outpatient surgical procedure.
In three days I could be a grandmother for the second time as my son's girlfriend of three years (there's that "numero tres" again) gives birth to a little baby boy (grandson number 2) as soon as this coming week.
And three days ago, a tear drop left saline residue on my sleeve.
Flashback: Thursday Oct. 2, 2008
I was turning in my canvas sheets at our local Muncie "Vote For Change-Indiana" office.
COMMERCIAL BREAK: Muncie Indiana USA, a.k.a. Middletown USA, is a place that seems to has 3 kinds of people: 1) Realistic Achievers; 2) Pessimistic Pretenders, and 3) Clueless, yet caring. At least as a result of watching endless MSNBC we sometimes tend to forget that people don't read much and believe everything that the pundits spew on tv in terms of fear peddling to get a vote because no one who has represented an oppressed group of people in a house named after the oppressor: "White." (I guess if I was white I'd have it pretty easy getting along in the world...unless someone called me "white trash." ) But I digress. . . back to the point.
Walking out of headquarters I saw a woman crossing the street in beautiful 4 blocks long downtown Muncie. She came from the direction of the MITS bus station and the county courthouse. We'd parked on the same side of the one-way street (left) and her vehicle was two spots in front of mine.
Then, it happened. Boo-hoo city on a FEMA scale. This young woman just broke down, crossed her arms over her face and laid her head on top of her compact car.
First thing in my mind...."DON'T LET HER DRIVE!" This was too beautiful of an autumn mid-morning to go home only to see on the next day's news that a woman of the description that I'd seen was the victim of a mysterious one-car crash. So I walked up to her and said...."Are you gonna be okay?"
What a dumb question! Obviously all was NOT okay. The tears just kept on coming.
So I did what most women and non-threatening men would have done. . . I gave her a hug.
The hug worked. Took a minute, but it worked.
While the positive energy from the person-to-person-embrace was working its spiritual recipe I noticed my left shoulder sleeve was getting a bit soaked. I never did like being wet while wearing clothing, even a spot of wetness, and in my prime years I'd more than likely be disqualified from being a contestant in a wet tee-shirt contest while my wild college friends would throw caution and bras to the wind. But somehow, this was a spiritual tear.
As I made certain that this young woman (her name, Christa) assured me that she was okay she got on her cell phone.
As a maternal spirit I reminded her soberly, "Make sure you don't start this car until you are completely okay that you can drive it, alright?"
"Alright" she said. Then she proceeded to dial someone who was hopefully a friend on her vivid red cell phone.
As I got into my car, the wet sleeve became even more sensory to me. But not from a standpoint of waiting for my sleeve to dry. I found now that it was me that was unable to drive. I was crying from my soul. And as a result, tears came from my eyes only. My mind reflected.
It reflected as to what was it that tore at this woman's soul, creating the tears. This, I realize, was becoming a very deep homophonic/homographic experience.
(Wordwizard.com) 1 a : HOMOPHONE b : HOMOGRAPH c : one of two or more words spelled and pronounced alike but different in meaning (as the noun quail and the verb quail).
(Hey, did you know "quail" was a verb???) oh well...English, hmmph!)
What happens when one experiences tears in the non-spiritual sense? Well, we might surmise that usually, a sharp object catches a thread of a fabric that is either delicate or in the wrong place at the wrong time; and the sharpness of the edge of whatever the fabric (or skin) catches on creates a split. A rift. Thusly, a "tear." Yet that "tear" can produce a tear from the eye if the thing that was damaged from its original pristine form was of major significance in value, whether materially or psychologically.
Have you experienced a tear in your life lately that lead to the creation of a tear? Did the last 10-14 days, or perhaps the last THREE days of your life did you know anyone who was going thru a particularly tough time because of the economy? (Economy is a funny thing. When it's good, everyone treats each other well. But when the economy is NOT so good, that rips at the soul of everything that a person believes in UNLESS they are spiritually grounded in a faith so deep that nothing and no one can rip the belief from the believer....hence, the dreams of those aforementioned as Realistic Achievers.
But what about the wetness of the tear? Moisture is a symbol of health. Dryness is a symbol of an inability to thrive. We love our moist skin, especially when kissing and making love. When skin is moist, it resists cracking and peeling. And we can't stand it when a steak (if you are a meat-eater) is dry and heaven forbid if we experience a dry throat during a time when we desperately need to speak and be clearly understood.
Moisture, as in tears from the eyes lets us heal our dry spirits. When we undergo times of sorrow we still have to take into account that too much "drowning in our moist sorrows" will cause us to wither in other ways. We become too limp to be able to make sense of things that need executive decisiveness. When people do not like us we can NOT take it personally. To be on the attack is to allow that dryness to enter our souls. We must "refresh."
Things that tear us down, like a family member or friend who refuses to speak to us because they never got the whole story of something they never took time to truly understand; or people close to us who refuse to register to vote out of selfish spite because their vision is so limited for the greater good that they think that decisions don't effect their lives if they pretend issues do not exist; those are the kinds of things that make our spirits cry.
But you know the good thing about crying? . . . we can choose to get over it. We can CHOOSE to be a loner beating our own drum of a different rhythm. We CAN CHOOSE to change even if everyone else thinks we cannot. Sometimes we have to decide to be the only dove of peace when everything else around us wants to tear at us with the talons of a hawk.
I think Prince was right when he contemplated and wrote: "When Doves Cry."
A period of 72 hours. Period of grace or healing from an outpatient surgical procedure.
In three days I could be a grandmother for the second time as my son's girlfriend of three years (there's that "numero tres" again) gives birth to a little baby boy (grandson number 2) as soon as this coming week.
And three days ago, a tear drop left saline residue on my sleeve.
Flashback: Thursday Oct. 2, 2008
I was turning in my canvas sheets at our local Muncie "Vote For Change-Indiana" office.
COMMERCIAL BREAK: Muncie Indiana USA, a.k.a. Middletown USA, is a place that seems to has 3 kinds of people: 1) Realistic Achievers; 2) Pessimistic Pretenders, and 3) Clueless, yet caring. At least as a result of watching endless MSNBC we sometimes tend to forget that people don't read much and believe everything that the pundits spew on tv in terms of fear peddling to get a vote because no one who has represented an oppressed group of people in a house named after the oppressor: "White." (I guess if I was white I'd have it pretty easy getting along in the world...unless someone called me "white trash." ) But I digress. . . back to the point.
Walking out of headquarters I saw a woman crossing the street in beautiful 4 blocks long downtown Muncie. She came from the direction of the MITS bus station and the county courthouse. We'd parked on the same side of the one-way street (left) and her vehicle was two spots in front of mine.
Then, it happened. Boo-hoo city on a FEMA scale. This young woman just broke down, crossed her arms over her face and laid her head on top of her compact car.
First thing in my mind...."DON'T LET HER DRIVE!" This was too beautiful of an autumn mid-morning to go home only to see on the next day's news that a woman of the description that I'd seen was the victim of a mysterious one-car crash. So I walked up to her and said...."Are you gonna be okay?"
What a dumb question! Obviously all was NOT okay. The tears just kept on coming.
So I did what most women and non-threatening men would have done. . . I gave her a hug.
The hug worked. Took a minute, but it worked.
While the positive energy from the person-to-person-embrace was working its spiritual recipe I noticed my left shoulder sleeve was getting a bit soaked. I never did like being wet while wearing clothing, even a spot of wetness, and in my prime years I'd more than likely be disqualified from being a contestant in a wet tee-shirt contest while my wild college friends would throw caution and bras to the wind. But somehow, this was a spiritual tear.
As I made certain that this young woman (her name, Christa) assured me that she was okay she got on her cell phone.
As a maternal spirit I reminded her soberly, "Make sure you don't start this car until you are completely okay that you can drive it, alright?"
"Alright" she said. Then she proceeded to dial someone who was hopefully a friend on her vivid red cell phone.
As I got into my car, the wet sleeve became even more sensory to me. But not from a standpoint of waiting for my sleeve to dry. I found now that it was me that was unable to drive. I was crying from my soul. And as a result, tears came from my eyes only. My mind reflected.
It reflected as to what was it that tore at this woman's soul, creating the tears. This, I realize, was becoming a very deep homophonic/homographic experience.
(Wordwizard.com) 1 a : HOMOPHONE b : HOMOGRAPH c : one of two or more words spelled and pronounced alike but different in meaning (as the noun quail and the verb quail).
(Hey, did you know "quail" was a verb???) oh well...English, hmmph!)
What happens when one experiences tears in the non-spiritual sense? Well, we might surmise that usually, a sharp object catches a thread of a fabric that is either delicate or in the wrong place at the wrong time; and the sharpness of the edge of whatever the fabric (or skin) catches on creates a split. A rift. Thusly, a "tear." Yet that "tear" can produce a tear from the eye if the thing that was damaged from its original pristine form was of major significance in value, whether materially or psychologically.
Have you experienced a tear in your life lately that lead to the creation of a tear? Did the last 10-14 days, or perhaps the last THREE days of your life did you know anyone who was going thru a particularly tough time because of the economy? (Economy is a funny thing. When it's good, everyone treats each other well. But when the economy is NOT so good, that rips at the soul of everything that a person believes in UNLESS they are spiritually grounded in a faith so deep that nothing and no one can rip the belief from the believer....hence, the dreams of those aforementioned as Realistic Achievers.
But what about the wetness of the tear? Moisture is a symbol of health. Dryness is a symbol of an inability to thrive. We love our moist skin, especially when kissing and making love. When skin is moist, it resists cracking and peeling. And we can't stand it when a steak (if you are a meat-eater) is dry and heaven forbid if we experience a dry throat during a time when we desperately need to speak and be clearly understood.
Moisture, as in tears from the eyes lets us heal our dry spirits. When we undergo times of sorrow we still have to take into account that too much "drowning in our moist sorrows" will cause us to wither in other ways. We become too limp to be able to make sense of things that need executive decisiveness. When people do not like us we can NOT take it personally. To be on the attack is to allow that dryness to enter our souls. We must "refresh."
Things that tear us down, like a family member or friend who refuses to speak to us because they never got the whole story of something they never took time to truly understand; or people close to us who refuse to register to vote out of selfish spite because their vision is so limited for the greater good that they think that decisions don't effect their lives if they pretend issues do not exist; those are the kinds of things that make our spirits cry.
But you know the good thing about crying? . . . we can choose to get over it. We can CHOOSE to be a loner beating our own drum of a different rhythm. We CAN CHOOSE to change even if everyone else thinks we cannot. Sometimes we have to decide to be the only dove of peace when everything else around us wants to tear at us with the talons of a hawk.
I think Prince was right when he contemplated and wrote: "When Doves Cry."
It is up to each one of us individually, to be ready for the healing. For the healing is not a quick fix. The healing takes place so that we may teach others, thru careful listening, and not demanding, how to heal.
Let's look ahead as a community of people in a spirit of change for the better. Let's stop believing those who would terrorize us from wanting something better for ourselves, our families, our nation.
America: Stop looking back allowing yourself to be torn in fear. We are the home of the brave and should be brave to move forward into a brand new future--- TOGETHER.
Change cannot wait. Click the names.
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