River Dance

lake.jpg

A child’s soul

Innocent gift by the river

A thousand emotions

Fighting to fulfill

Their true moment in time

Inspired by playing along with the magnetic poetry site, and seeing a brilliant project by Katherine MacKenett over at DeviantArt, the site of over a million different art and literature creations.

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The Four Pillars

The daily verbiage. A nice touch to a day that has been quite the ordinary. Four simple words that look so innocent on the surface but are perplexing to put any thought into. Me in my sleepy state can’t quite get everything out to tackle this.

To be. To have. To think. To move.

Hmm…this is a tough one to decipher. Who am I? Which verb describes me best?  Am I connected to any of them the most? These are strong verbs. Basically the verbs that form the core of the human experience. The four pillars of everyday life.

The one that sticks out the most for me is to think. I am an avid thinker, I think all the time, about lots of things, ideas mostly. I’m always thinking of that next idea that will be big for me, but sadly when I try to live it out for real my expectations can not be fulfilled. There was once a brilliant idea of mine to learn to play the guitar and learn music but that has faded quite a bit in favor of other interests. I’m still thinking about playing again, maybe when something inside me tells me it’s about time, a certain emotion; when I first pluck those strings after a long absence my mind is instantly gratified, a veil being lifted over my head, and I go to a far away happy place. Ok, the sleepiness is gone now. I feel like a car engine that had to get warmed up out of the icy cold and now is running at maximum power…

We are all thinkers but not everyone thinks constructively – giving top priority to things that really matter and will be beneficial to them, instead of letting the negative nellies block the way and bring them down. Those negative nellies are with me everyday and I try hard to fight them and find something positive in myself. There are always thoughts about me doubting my self-worth and wondering why I am slacking behind when I could be running down my dreams at a full pace. The positive thoughts that happen to extinguish these demons in my head are the ones that look like a burst of bright light; the light at the end of the tunnel; the storm clouds dissipating. Music always seems to invoke good thoughts into me and make me refocus on my life goals that get sidetracked sometimes by my worries and fears. “Don’t You Worry Child” by Swedish House Mafia is one song that instantly instills hope and confidence in myself.

To be…is about my life goals and aspirations – but I am not so dedicated to those as I should be; I don’t find myself chasing them constantly. In fact, my dreams are vague and undefined most of the time or are rapidly changing to best suit my interests. In my life I have gone from wanting to be a carpenter or architect to being an artist, to being a musician, to becoming an engineer, to becoming a photographer, and now to becoming a writer. They aren’t really things I want to be prominently, just things I happen to be on a minimal level.

To have…the first thing that comes to mind is money of course, but then most importantly love; I’m constantly waiting for that hole in my heart to be filled but it seems to be alluding me. I have an accomplishment of getting a degree from college in engineering but that has to equate to the to be part of finding a career in that field.

To think…getting my words down, having daily thoughts about my supposed future. Assessing my true feelings, my true self. Wondering what makes me special, what’s my clear defined purpose on this planet.

To move…this one involves me wanting to break out of my box that I live in to roam wild. My photography aspirations are dying for this verb to be more in action since it is the only way I can truly find those ‘diamond in the roughs’ that photographers constantly search for and advance their skills. But there is a profound comfort of being stuck in one place. I love being home and having my family around me all the time. I feel happy and content. If I was on my own I find it would be harder for other people to love me because I’m just not that kind of person. I don’t like to open myself up to everyone spontaneously; only when I am coaxed into it and trust has been built can I truly reveal my full character and then it actually feels fantastic for me to take a big step like that.

To be, to have, to think, to move — which of these verbs is the one you feel most connected to? Or is there another verb that characterizes you better?

Tale of a Foodie

Daily Prompt: Mouths Wide Shut


Food is my guilty pleasure

Boundless energy for the soul

A smorgasbord of selection from heavenly send

Salivating my taste buds; ah, what thou sweet sensation, bittersweet, hint of zest?

This ever longing hunger that never concedes

A drum beating loudly, echoing incessantly

A crashing wave, it’s crests so high

The tempting thoughts of a geisha’s cry

A beggar man once said,

“Give me forty loaves and I will show you the world”

But blasphemy it was

For so called beggar

Was the scornful eye

Not so much I wouldn’t trek

To cuisines far and wide

At least what validated sense has witnessed

Taking control, the omnipresence

Never tried liver and onions but it’s not implausible

Pickled herring, frog legs, cow tongue, marzipan?

Kidney pie, Yorkshire pudding, taffy-loo, crème brûlée?

A fish fresh caught never sought either

The biggest point buck I couldn’t even sear

See, my palette is still quite raw

Having never ventured past usual suspects

But I would never dare say

That I wasn’t open to new choice cuts

These food grains

How irresistibly they intoxicate my mouth

“Brilliantly so,” said the chef

The profound dish of parsley and thyme

Sewn together like the pastiche of wise minds

A foodie so I am

Chasing the invited smells of delicacies

Oh, this of mine can never die

My road to eternal satisfaction

Is still quite open…

Words of a foodie

Alone in a Crowded Room

The room of strangers are staring at me with piercing eyes. 4 minutes. 4 minutes. How to tell my life story in 4 minutes…I take a deep breath and begin…

I come from a family that is on the lower end of middle class. We aren’t privileged, don’t have the nicest stuff in the world, don’t buy the premier brand of items everyday or the most expensive things, but get by everyday with what we have, what really matters inside: love. Our house is not something anyone would ooh and ahh at. It’s a modest looking mobile home in a sea of mobile homes. I, for one, want to move up in the world but there seems to be a force stopping me from doing so. It seems every time I want to advance myself, but a laughing demon holds me back, saying “What? You? What makes you deserve to achieve success and get out of the mediocrity that is your life? You’re supposed to stay there and go the path the rest of us losers have gone”.

I am smart but not genius, not The Big Bang Theory smart. I know how to do things, how to fix computers to a degree, how to write, how to cook simple meals. I don’t try to be anyone else. Just because someone is at the top of their field and is enjoying renowned and celebrity status doesn’t make me want to stop what I have been doing best and go where the grass collects the most water.

Time.

Boy, did I ever feel more alone in this room full of people. Did they even care about what I said? The picture below relays how I was feeling:


In Response to the Daily Prompt: Flash Talk

Eudaimonia

Aristotle, one of the greatest thinkers of western philosophy, taught us that happiness is a virtue, not its reward. This means that happiness is a gift that is not to be taken for granted. It is the ultimate purpose of our existence. It does not come and vanish in a mere couple of hours. Happiness depends on ourselves. We choose to be happy. Aristotle gave a true definition of happiness:

…the function of man is to live a certain kind of life, and this activity implies a rational principle, and the function of a good man is the good and noble performance of these, and if any action is well performed it is performed in accord with the appropriate excellence: if this is the case, then happiness turns out to be an activity of the soul in accordance with virtue. (Nicomachean Ethics, 1098a13)

Am I a good judge of other people’s happiness? That depends. I don’t know if I’m truly happy myself. My self-absorption clouds my judgment, I can’t look past my inner demons to realize others are facing predicaments that question the nature of their existence. This is tough. I am more inclined in seeing the sadness in people. Since I am a loner and often have depressive states, seeing people on a level of my own makes me feel better because I know they have something in common with me: this insurmountable wall that I cannot seem to get over. But I feel safer on the other side anyway because I don’t have to face my struggles with human interaction and emotion. Stepping out into the light bothers me. I feel better being isolated and not having to win the acceptance of someone else because when I fail at that I often become even more depressed.

I close my eyes for a while, trying to think of a time when I knew someone was happy. For some reason, my late grandmother comes to mind. I am standing by her bedside, seeing her lying there, pale and cold as ever, holding on to her last few breaths of life. She has lost all focus of the world and her words and actions are not entirely hers, coming about from the Alzheimer’s that has progressed ruthlessly. I can tell she is happy and content inside, even if it isn’t readily apparent, because very soon she will be going to a better place, away from the agony and suffering that has been cast upon her. This is not like her. She has always been a strong woman, always alert and on her feet. I hate to see her struggle like this, acting like a totally different person and scaring me. I can tell she doesn’t want to go through with this sickness any longer, wants to rest in peace, be in a state of happiness. A deep depression washes over me. My mind is numb as ice. I can’t quite decipher any emotions for this experience. I guess I just realize dying is the natural part of life and learn to get over it. Grieving is painful. I don’t know how to deal with it. I’m trapped in my mind. Nothing can get out. It is a dark void. There is no where to go but straight. Behind me is just the shadows of despair. The road is foggy up ahead. I am so young, unable to take the burden of this loss.

I’m tired. I can’t go on any longer.


 In Response to the Daily Prompt: Happy Radars