Exquisitely Imperfect

I’ve realized a few things in my life and the biggest realization (to date) is that life is exquisitely imperfect.

My imperfections makes me uniquely me. I’m not the same as anyone else, I’m not perfect. I love the mistakes I’ve made in my life they’ve brought to the place that I’m in right now, here in this moment.

Imperfections allow me to be in the moment and focus on each moment in order to fully experience and embrace each moment.

Allowing myself to fully embrace my imperfections allows me to learn and grow from each experience that I have.

Allowing myself to love my imperfections, gives me the necessary breathing room to jump into the flow of life.

Jumping into the flow of life allows me to breathe easier and think more freely. Being exquisitely imperfect is just being.

Embrace your imperfections, embrace yourself and dive into the flow of life.

Have a great Thursday. 🙂

Advertisements

Haiku Thursday

This is my first attempt at a Haiku. I’m having fun, so it won’t be my last.

Here it is for your morning perusal:

 

Secret nights, the wind

covers my body in love,

and I remember.

What have you written or remembered lately?

 

 

 

Story Weaving – Arachnophobia Afflicted Beware

Cincinnati Zoo Spider - (c) 2011 Joelle Wilson

Each word used in a story carries its own weight and value. Each word is carefully selected by the author to lay the groundwork for the cloth of the story. Much like the artist selecting each color she uses, the different hues and tints adding its own special quality to the overall painting.

Those words are delicately woven together to form strands of thoughts and sentences are born. Each sentence linking to the next to form levels of story lines that become the paragraphs building up the story. Each paragraph stretching out to form pages. The pages becoming the web that will support the story.

The story when completed will snare a reader’s attention and wrap that person up in it until the story is done. The reader will then rest upon those delicately woven threads   realizing that they have been caught up in the web that the author has created. Smiling and sated the reader will wait in delicious anticipation for the next story.

Anticipating the next discovery, hidden treasure, and long-lost love. Dreaming of faraway places or perhaps just visiting a local museum to find the clues that the murderer has left behind for the police to find. Hiding with held breath, talking only in whispers with the hero as the creature closes in for the kill.

Or perhaps inspired to write a story herself, the avid reader, will begin with a few words that will build into paragraphs. The paragraphs becoming pages and the pages building into a web of her own. Enticing more readers into the story, to climb onto the strands of the web and read.

What are you weaving?

 

A Day Without Connecting

Yesterday I disconnected myself, for the day. I didn’t log on to my computer (it stayed powered down for the day)  and I put away my phone. I felt odd and I could feel my fingers itch to log on and at least check on my Facebook page. I mean that is a site to stay connected to family and friends. Never mind that I usually get caught up spiraling out by clicking on the various links that family and friends post. Then I find that an hour or so has passed and I didn’t actually accomplish anything in that hour.  Well, I usually find something I can relate to or advice to use in my writing.

Yesterday though, I didn’t allow myself to log on or in to anything but family time. I took my mom to the library where I wandered through the stacks of books and mom went directly to the mystery aisles. I found myself enamored once again by the feel, scent and sights of wandering through the aisles of adventures just waiting to be had. The simple act of opening a book has the power to transport you to distant lands, unexplored universes and hidden realms. I love the library, I always have and always will. But if I continue with that thought I’ll forget what I was originally writing about.

We left the library with books and a book tote bag that I bought for mom. A great start to the day of disconnection. We arrived home with just enough time to do a bit of cleaning before everyone else arrived. When my sister came in with her kids (two that feel like four), we all changed into swim suits and headed out to the pool to soak up some sun while reveling in the fun.

Swimming with a four-year old is an adventure in and of itself. My nephew is a water baby to say the least. Once he is in the water he just does not want to get out. I heard “JoJo look at me”, “Watch me JoJo”, Let’s go into the deep end JoJo”, and I loved every second of it. My niece thoroughly enjoyed herself as long as she had physical contact with her mom at all times. She loves the water but is not too confident that the water wings are going to really hold her above the water.

After water sneezes, many laps, water noodle fun, general sun soaking, and much fun, it was time to go home. Which is merely driving down the street back to the apartment. Yeah driving because it was too hot to walk. Dinner time was another adventure, full of “Sit and finish your dinner first”, “No”, “Careful or you’re going to drop something again”, fun times. After getting refueled, the kids ran amok  (in a good way) through the apartment.

From drawing on the white marker board to the Great Stuffed Animal Wars, to the taking out the coins and putting them back into the crayon coin bank, more fun. They had fun until we were all thoroughly worn out. Worn out in a warm, great, wonderful way.

When it was time for the visitors to get on their way home it was to the tune of, “oh Mom, do we really have to go?” – four-year old kids seem to have an endless abounding energy. (That is until they get in the car after an adventuring day and the car’s motion soothes them to sleep.) Good-byes and hugs were exchanged, they went home and the apartment felt too quiet.

Well, that’s it and there it is, my tale of disconnection. I loved it so much that I decided there will one day a week where I will not log into cyber space, my computer or the phone. I feel refreshed today.

 

 

Music is the Inspiration of the Soul

Check out this video by Clare Maguire for her song Ain’t Nobody.

Q. What can music inspire?

A. Art, Beauty, Love, Writing, Music, Poetry, Dreams, Life.

Simple answer for a such a thought-provoking question, I know. But how can you really encapsulate the inspiration of music in words and not have those words continue for years?

When I sit down to write I usually have music playing in the background. It helps to block-out the world and my words flow from my brain to the page. Whether I’m writing it long hand on paper first or typing it out on the computer, music frees the writer’s brain.

When I was younger I would turn on the stereo a.k.a record player, get out a stack of 45’s or LP’s, grab my pen and notebook and escape into my inner world of words. I loved the sound of those first notes sparking to life, igniting the flow of words. I also had my favorite playlists a.k.a. mix tapes that I would listen to when I was tired of getting up to change the records. Now it’s a little different.

I grab my mp3 player, put on my headphones or ear buds, start playing the favorite music of the day, sit down at my computer and escape into that inner world of words. And yes I still do write things out long hand in my many notebooks, journals, and scraps of paper. It’s just that when I get into the ‘writing zone’ I find that I type faster than I can write.

I can and do write without any music playing, usually when I’m at the park and I let nature work her magic in my writer’s soul. I have also been inspired by paintings, photographs, family, and friends. But music is still my first and foremost inspirational influence.

The type of music can be anything from Dvorak to ZZ Top. From A Capella to techno, blues to heavy metal, music brings me to a place of connection with my muse. Without music the world is just to quiet.

What music have you been inspired by?