it’s probably my fault, however…
Well. One might think I died and went wherever it is I am going to go when I die. I could insert something here that might serve to drive some of you delirious and/or delusional. But I won’t. Let’s just say I needed some time.
And that is definitely OK.
Sometimes we ALL could use a bit of that, maybe more than a bit!
My Medium thing was getting ahead of me, and I noticed that I was experiencing a challenge in that as I began to write a Medium post, I couldn’t remember if…
it’s easier than you think…
When you’re running around doing the jobs of several people, it’s very easy to let complacency creep in and that’s when mistakes begin to happen, or you might send out emails you’re 100% happy with, but have miscues. Use this guide to help you consider five email and post mistakes to avoid and what’s important to you and your subscribers.
- You’ve got typos
We’ve all done it! Sent an email out and made a grammatical error or a typo because we’ve not checked our emails properly. The easiest thing is to write out your email…
what goes around can make you dizzy…
At a recent meeting of our local photo salon, we were talking about inspiration, which is always a murky subject. It is a challenge to confront our deepest likes and dislikes and actually come up with an intelligent answer to the question, because it is so ethereal. Like a shadow it can come at us full-force or we might experience it as a mist, something that envelopes us in its subtle grip and draws toward directions that are unknown. The Muse taunts.
Our creative spirits sometimes lead us to places we never knew…
the end is in the beginning…
Dances with Wolves
As I stand under an endless sea of blue
alone — in the middle of forever
my longing fingers stretch to the horizon
flexing to touch wavering stalks of gold.
I know without speaking a word
that at last I am home.
In the waning moments of daylight
I will two-step with Two Socks
and touch the Earth with my Heart.
Before the breaking of another dawn
an ocean of buffalo will come and go
in an ancient rite of passage;
their days among us soon to be cut short.
Dances…
no dilly-dallying allowed…
Be kind, Be respectful. Pay attention! Do the Work!
Many people are like me, but that is probably not a good thing. I mean I should be flattered, but I’m not.
What I am writing about here is the common conundrum of spreading ourselves too thin. We have far too many things on our daily, weekly, and monthly lists.
So much that only very few things get done, with little quality in the process.
How can we possibly continue at this pace? Why would we want to?
I recently made a conscious decision to pare that list…
i mean, really…
After reading David Whyte’s iconic poem about true love more than few times, I figured it was time to share it. Of course, you can relate to it metaphorically or personally… or both!
Therein lies the beauty and the eternal quality of a well-written poem: it transcends us and lives on. The first time I published a chapbook of poems a friend told me, “You do realize that you have just become immortal. There will always be one of your poems in someone’s desk or in their wallet. See what you have done!”
The True Love (excerpt)…
now you see ’em, now you don’t!
Sometimes the sky can be full of clouds
sliding across a New Mexico-blue sky
puffy and glorious and ethereal
at one and the same time.
Or… they can sneak up on you
demanding your attention
as they grow darker, foreboding even
in their silky-soft presence.
We glance at a few
while we are in a field of flowers
reading poems to a loved one
as she gazes past your face.
There can be so many different
“styles” of those billowy wonders
that are solid when trying to see
through their mysterious visages.
Even…
in the living comes the shedding…
Shadows of the Soul
We come into this life
bright and pure
with no blame or guilt nor shame
to live a life of unknown potential.
Too soon, the shadows begin
to accumulate and burden
a soul barely out of the womb
with unknown drama in the making.
Commands are heard and ingested
securing a place of permanence
deep within a psyche too young
to mount a defense of any strength.
One after the other the shadows
continue to slither into a mind
in the making with little to negate
the slick-smooth invasion…
even though told he couldn’t…
Soaring…
After months of attempting to fly
The young Sparrow became dejected;
Saddened by his apparent failure
Until he almost gave it up for good.
But on one fateful and defining day
He thought he would give it one last try
Because he really knew he could fly!
Climbing to the longest branch
Of the tallest tree in the forest
He looked down on family and friends alike
Who were booing and hissing at the trembling bird. …
