Trance of Hate


He wakes up so angry

at those he does not know.

 

They haven’t done anything to him,

But still his hatred grows.

 

He thinks he’s somehow better,

than all not like him.

 

It’s a shame he cannot see

that he’s in a trance of sin.

 

Fight! Fight like hell.

But fight your hate inside.

 

Learn to see what you were told

Was nothing, but a bunch of lies.

 

No one is better

and no one is worse.

 

The hate you feel inside

is nothing but a curse.

Deep inside you want something

but hate can never fill.

Turn to God’s love and peace

and not your arrogant will.

~~~~~~~~~~

For the Daily Post ~ Trance.

Stop the hate. Learn to love. It feels better.

 

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Stats of Life


I write, ramble and ponder. Seemingly, there are no consistent topics to my posts. I just go with whatever inspires me that day. Sometimes it’s an angry poetic rant to people I can’t approach in person. And yet, other times I may weave together a romantic story involving a cat and a machete.

What do those have in common? Now that, took a moment to consider…

The daily post today said:

Go to your Stats page and check your top 3-5 posts. Why do you think they’ve been successful? Find the connection between them, and write about it.

When I looked at my top four posts, I scratched my head. How the heck are these things related?

  1. Four haikus together that gave advice to the bitter, greedy, hateful people of the world.
  2. A haiku that talks about our childhood dreams and adult reality.
  3. A fictional romance about a cat who links a machete-weilding hot guy with a home-owning girl in yoga pants.
  4. My personal ramblings, and a couple of iPhone pictures, on how I am discovering myself.

The connection is life, but not just any life. I am not talking about zombie lives or miserable/hateful/bitter lives. No, I am talking about lives with purpose. They all encourage passion and personal improvement. They speak to the hearts and souls of us as human beings and whisper-give it a try, be more than yesterday, seize the moment and don’t give up.

I have lived that just-barely-breathing life before and vow to not return to it. I promised myself to live in the moment and plan for my tomorrows. Each day, I want to be better, stronger and wiser. Sometimes I exceed. Other times, well, I fall on my face. But, that is OK. That’s life. If we get another chance to try again the next day, we are blessed.  I think that is how these four random topics are connected. Now go look around and relish in all that you have, and go take a few baby steps towards your dreams. One step at a time, you can get there. And who knows, maybe you will inspire some bitter/sad person, accomplish that childhood dream, or meet your soul-mate. And in between all that, you may just discover something new about yourself. 🙂

Best wishes.

 

Nato

Memories of Ponies, Superpowers


When I was a girl, I wanted a pony, thought I was a writer and believed I had telekinesis. As an adult, my reality is really not that far off my childhood fantasies.

I don’t own a pony exactly, but I do have a short stocky horse that I call my pretty little pony. Honestly, as I child I thought a pony was really just a baby horse. It made perfect sense to me then. Apparently, that is not the correct technical meaning though. Huh. Good to know. Regardless, I will still call my old, 14-hand, sorrel quarter horse mare, my pony.

Since I didn’t own a horse back then, I would use my dreams of ponies to inspire some of my writing. I would write stories and poems about horses. My story horses were majestic beasts. They had a connection to their owner, who was always someone who resembled myself or someone I wanted to be. These horses were smart, helping their owner accomplish noble deeds. They carried themselves with such grace. Some, even flew. I wrote about other things of course, but horses were my go-to animal. I connected with horses…and I feel like I still do.

In one stories, my flying horse helped a brilliant, confident girl who had telekinesis. She would move things around for the good of other people. Sure she would make mind movements for the sake of laughter or ease. She was a kid after all. However, she never used this power to hurt people.

I think about this young girl with super powers and I realize, I am still her basically. No, I don’t really have telekinesis. (So there is no need to notify the government for them to come test me and try to harvest my powers. In reality, they are already using my skills for that matter anyway since I am a government employee and Army Reserve Soldier.) I do have the ability move things without physical force though. I can move things with my example, my words, my silence. It is not necessarily the form of telekinesis that I dreamt of, but I suppose it draws less concern among the public (and less medical probing). Over the years, I found that I have the ability to affect people. It has taken me years to realize this unfortunately. For years, I thought I was powerless, a victim at times. Other people did things to me. Other people manipulated me. Other people controlled the situation. This has not always been the case though. Of course, I cannot control the careless hurtful words of others. Nor can I demand they treat me with respect and love. But, I can control myself and my reactions. And through my own reactions, behaviors, words…or even silence, I can affect them. With my actions, I can escalate anger or love. I can inspire confusion or understanding. I can cause tears or laughter.

Overall, I can either accept how I am treated by others, or shut it down and walk away. I have the power to set expectations on how I want to be treated. If I carry myself with pride and confidence, people tend to treat me with more respect, more esteem. If I am down on myself and insecure, people seem to doubt me and walk on my opinions and feelings.

Of course carrying myself nobly is not always easy. Like most folks in the world, I doubt myself. Do I know enough about this topic to speak on it intelligently? Have I gained too much weight? Do these people even want to hear what I have to say? Did I do that task well enough to present? It is hard not to doubt ourselves, and there is a fine line between confidence and cockiness. This line tends to move each day too. Some days I can find it and walk it. Other days, not so much.

What I am discovering though, is that that little girl long ago was not afraid of who she was. She stood tall with her pony at her side. She wrote down her stories. And she moved things in the world to help others. That girl is still me. She may be older and bit less elegant, and her horse is shorter and a bit more frumpy. Nonetheless, she still rides with happiness and joy in her heart. She still writes her thoughts, her feelings, her stories. And, she still tries to move things in the world without force and the goal of making it better. After years of struggle, I thought that little girl was gone. She didn’t disappear. No, she is still there. She just got a little lost.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

For the Daily Post ~ Great Pretender.

Because my pretend life showed me who I wanted to be. 🙂

Also fits the Daily Post ~Ballerina Fireman Astronaut Movie Star.

 

Who Needs a Secret Admirer-Not Me


When I receive flowers, the sender is not a secret. However, where he finds them could be in question. You see, my boyfriend doesn’t always buy flowers. He picks them.

He loves to pick wildflowers for me. He sees them, stops and gathers them up for me. His natural instinct to do this started on our first fairytale trip together. Since then, he will pick them while we are hiking or running. I will then put the single flower in my hair and we continue on our hike/run. If we are driving, he will pull over and gather them up for me. I smile at his thoughtfulness and hold them or put them in a water bottle. If we are not together, he brings them to me in a vase of some sort. Sometimes, it is a whole bouquet of flowers. Other times, just a single beauty of nature.

He knows me well too. He picks a variety of flowers (when nature allows it) as he knows I will photograph them nearly every time. He will mention, something like, ‘these were so pretty and I thought you might like them for your blog.’ He is so right. I do like them for my blog, and the fact that he knows that touches my heart. The fact that he supports that, makes him even more special. The fact that he will stop what he is doing to get them for me, tells me he cares.

So I say, who wants a secret admirer when you can have a wonderful boyfriend who showers you with flowers he picks just for you…and all your wonderful followers? Not me.

~~~~~~~~~~~

For the Daily Post Challenge ~ Secret Admirers.

To see pictures of some of the flowers he has picked, click on over to my photography blog here. The one I featured for this article was an abstract I made from one of the many flowers he has given me.

From Blind Date to Fairytale


After being divorced and dating a few jerks, I really wasn’t all that excited about a blind date, especially with a “nice” guy. Yeah, those guys never like me anyway. I seem to attract the crazy, abusive or unstable men. Nice would be a refreshing change, but highly unlikely. I’d probably have more luck with the lottery, but I decided to go anyway. I figured, at the very least, I could enjoy a meal and bowling with friends, and possibly make a new one. I had no expectations of this blind date man even liking me. I have to admit, I was completely right, but utterly wrong at the same time. He didn’t like me. That was clear. Nope, he was more than a potential new friend. He was my perfect prince who started my real-life fairytale.

I was enjoying a glass of wine with friends when my prince and I met. He confidently walked over to the table where our mutual friends and I sat with a big smile on his face. As soon as I saw his dark hair, firm build, dreamy eyes and scruffy beard, I got butterflies. Of course, I tried to play it cool with a casual smile. But inside, my heart was doing a little school-girl happy dance. “Oh yeah. Oh yeah. This date just moved to the next level.”

We all chatted easily over dinner, laughing and sharing stories. My prince was polite, respectful and quite the witty gentleman. Once dinner was done, we moved over to the bowling alley. Originally, I had rode to the restaurant with the couple who introduced us. But this handsome blind date of mine offered me a ride. Again, I hid my swirls of excitement with, “Sure. That’s fine with me.”

As we bowled, some of the initial walls began to fall. We found out more about each other’s lives. Divorced. Kids. Jobs. Hobbies…The twinkle in his eyes when he smiled….The spark from his hand during a high-five worthy strike…The heart-piercing sound of his laugh. Yeah, there was definitely something there. So I took deep breaths, telling myself, “Relax. Be yourself. Don’t expect too much.”

After bowling two games and delaying our friends some, we decided to move the date into the blind-date-extended-version. We said goodbye to our friends and we headed downtown to find some live music. While sitting side by side listening to the band, my prince put his arm around me gracefully and pulled me close. His touch was like a shock throughout my body. Oh, yes. I was in trouble, but it was the kind of trouble no girl in her right mind would avoid. By the end of the night, I felt like I had known this man for months. There was a complete and utter comfort in me as I spoke to him. I could tell him anything and he listened. Throughout the night, we shared more than most would recommend for a first date I am sure. But we didn’t care. It was as though we had just found our best friend again after being parted for a number of years. We had so much to tell and share.

By the end of the night, we had our first kiss. He slowly took my face into his hands and pulled me close. When our lips met, it was like the world melted away. I didn’t care about anything else but this amazingly perfect moment.

Eventually, the kiss did have to stop though. It may have been minutes. It may have been hours. Time was irrelevant anyway as we were both in a euphoria that we had forgotten was possible. Suddenly, the world seemed to be so much more exciting. That thought was very clear.

As the night ended, we knew we had to see each other again. So we didn’t waste any time of course. We hung out the next day, nearly the entire day. We ate brunch together and laid around talking about almost everything and absolutely nothing. We went swimming. Yes, it was the second date and my prince saw me without makeup, and he didn’t even seem to care! We took a walk hand-in-hand. I showed him the barn where my horse was boarded, my “sanctuary” in times of stress. We shared stories of heartache and pain. We laughed like school kids over the silliest things until our abs hurt. We kissed so gently it was like a soft breeze, and we even took a nap in each other’s arms. Through all of this, we really saw each other, like the real us. Not the image you normally display for the public, but the real, gritty, not-so-perfect us. And it was wonderful. There was no stress, no anxiety, or no façade.

At the end of the day, we thought about how crazy it was. We had just spent nearly 24 hours together in only two days. Probably not the most normal of blind dates for sure. But there was no reason to end, except for the mundane fact of work, which we had almost completely forgotten about. Yeah, reality snuck in for a moment. We did have to work in the morning after all. So we called it a night, but only after making a dinner date for the next day. Yes, he was going to make me dinner on day three of knowing me. I think the words, ‘pinch me’ came to my mind. However, dinner was just the beginning of the adventure to come.

The next day at dinner, this man amazed me even more. He was making me shrimp. “I remember you said it was your favorite,” said the dreamy-eyed creature who walked into my life only two days prior. I stood there smiling like a fool I am sure. How is it possible to be this happy and relaxed with him already? How did he even remember that I mentioned shrimp was my favorite? When did I even say that? As I stood there in thought, he leaned in, softly kissing my lips and started to dance with me in his kitchen. It was sweet and perfect. We danced about the house, laughing and talking. We ate shrimp and broccoli and drank wine. It was the simplest and yet most wonderful meal I think I have ever had. And at one point, he looked into my eyes and said, “Would you go to the beach with me?” At this point, I thought I was dreaming. Surely, I was dreaming. What 43-year-old divorced woman has a hot, single, nice guy invite them to the beach after only knowing them for barely three days? Only girls on the Hallmark Movie Network that’s who. And last I knew, I was not on a movie set. I mean if I was, I certainly was not seeing a check from them. Though, I have to admit the man before did have the body and face worthy of a part in a romantic novel. Heck. Maybe I was on a set?

“Are you serious? You can’t be serious. You barely know me,” I said with a laugh.

“I know enough, and I think we would have fun at the beach together,” said my handsome date.

“I think we would have fun too. I am sure of it. I can’t believe you are serious though! Um, can I give you an answer tomorrow? I will need to make sure some things are in order, but I think it is very doable,” I said with the biggest smile ever.

“You have the most genuine smile. So pure,” he stated as he ran his fingers along my jaw.

Oh yes, this was turning out to be a Hallmark Movie Network set after all. The only difference here was that there was no annoying person to yell cut in the action. Nope. It was real and right in front me. And I thought, why not take a chance?

The next day after work, my romantic blind date came by my house. The day before he mentioned wanting to cut up a tree that had fallen in my yard after a storm. He wanted to do this before we headed out on our four-hour drive to the beach.

“Are you kidding me? You want to cut up my tree for me? Before we drive and after we work?” At that point, I really did look around. I must be on one of those candid camera shows, but one with a romantic twist. Did they have those? They must! This must be a trick because wonderfully kind, handsome men did not exist. At least not in my past they didn’t. They were either kind, insecure and smothering or they were handsome, manipulative and abusive. This mix of sexy, gentle, giving, romantic and strong standing before me was something I did not know. I almost felt like I was staring at a mythical unicorn. But I am not a stupid woman. I was up for the challenge of taking a risk. “OK, cut away if you desire. While you do that, I will make some dinner.”

So there I was, in my kitchen, making meatloaf for a man I just met on Saturday. It was only Tuesday night and he was about to eat dinner in my home with me and my live-in father. This is insane, I thought. Who does this? Who runs off to the beach with someone they just met? Me. Yes, apparently I do, I told myself with a laugh. Outside of my past experiences with crazy men, everything in me told me to go. Everything in me compelled me to take a chance. Everything in me pushed me deeper into this magical fairytale unfolding before me. Everything in me whispered, you will regret not going. Seize the moment.

I looked out the kitchen window as I mixed the meatloaf, wondering, am I about to make the biggest mistake of my life or am I about to embark on the most romantic time of my life? I did not see a middle ground here. We were both all-or-nothing kind of people who spoke our minds. There was no beating around the bush and no time to waste. We both had been unhappy for way too long in our lives. Therefore, we were ready to take a chance and see where this instant connection would take us. And for the moment, after we ate some meatloaf with my dad, the connection was taking us to the beach…

(To be continued…)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

In response to the Dungeon Prompts ~ Turning Point.

&

The Daily Prompt ~ Happily Ever After.