In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Lazy Learners.”
I’ve always wanted to learn many languages. I dabble and can say a few words in French, Dutch, Taiwanese, Spanish and Sign language. When I travel to a new country, I learn a few simple words, please, thank-you, adding to the richness of travel.
Still, I love the idea of being fluent in many languages. I daydream about travelling the globe and slipping from one language to another effortlessly. I would know when I’m being short changed, could haggle with the best of them, eavesdrop on conversation and know exactly what the locals think. I could order food in a restaurant and know what I ordered, omitting the surprise when it arrives. I can see it in my minds eye and its perfect.
Therein lies the problem. I studied French in school, for five years and although I believed that I repeated the phrases perfectly, my teacher would beg to differ. It seemed that I never could get it perfect for her. I’m reluctant to share my knowledge with anyone about the phrases I know for fear of being figuratively back in French class. This phobia seems to have oozed into all languages. I’m happy to read and write the words and will spell them out to people, awkward for certain, though effective.
Seeing my excuses written down gives me pause. The best part of getting older is that I no longer care what other people think about me. With this in mind, I will take the time to learn another language and have my daydream become a reality. May-be it isn’t too late?
In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Home Turf.”
Just like Dorothy in the Wizard of Oz, there is no place like home. The word is warm, cozy and inviting. It welcomes us at the end of the day, enveloping us and keeps us safe. Our most authentic selves are revealed though our secrets are safe.
A house is merely building materials, it becomes a home by what we keep inside, what we treasure, what is true in our hearts. It is authentic and reflects our self in how we feel in the world.
Describe your space and how you feel in this space conjures up something different for each person who honestly answers this question
For me, there is a lightness, beauty, love and warmth in my home. This is the home I created.
Twenty windows frame stunning views that inspire and provide a daily dose of awe. My husband, friend, confidante and love provides safety with a daily dose of humor and my cup overflows with love and respect. Our menagerie of pets include two cats and two dogs, their antics rival the most popular you tube video. Our library in the corner of our home with its comfy chair invites us to kick off our shoes and curl up with one of its many good books. We can choose between four decks or our three season porch where we can be more intimate with nature and marvel at the many animals that call our house their home too.
It has been a journey to get to this place in my life, at last, at long last, I am home.
In response to The Daily Post’s weekly photo challenge: “Door.”
This was taken in Stone Town, Zanzibar
In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Toy Story.”
My favourite toy as a child was a board game that my Grandpa created. It was called Aggravation, similar to Sorry, but created long before that board game became popular. Instead of plastic pieces it used marbles. Each person had a set of coloured marbles and the goal of the game was to get all your marbles home. A deck of cards was used and each face card had a value of ten, the ace had a value of one. I no longer remember the finer details of the game. The board was white with decals in each corner. The marbles moved around the board and settled into spaces that were carved out for them to rest. There was a lip around the board to keep the marbles from rolling on the floor.
One vivid summer day my Grandpa and I were partners against my older sister and brother. It came down to the wire with my siblings hot on our heels. We were one space away from winning and I drew an Ace. I’ll never forget how I felt when I put the ace down and my Grandpa and I won. Teamwork, and even though I was a child I was able to offer something in that moment.
I suppose this shaped me. I never coveted toys as a child. I instead spent time making up games and living different lives. I imagined I was an Archeologist and dug a very large hole in our back yard to unearth artifacts, a nail, a rock, a spring, cataloging each item. I played street hockey in the back alley and dreamed of playing in the NHL. She shoots, she scores! My friend and I ran a bar and created an elaborate menu, all a version of saltine crackers, peanut butter and water which we sold to her younger brother for a tidy profit. I imagined myself a writer and wrote stories about people I knew, creating lives for them far more amazing, heroic and adventurous, then what seemed to me to be their truly boring existence. I found a pallet in the back alley and dragged it home as the base for my clubhouse. I rode my bike to find the end of the rainbow. I spent the money during that ride. I never found the pot of gold, though the journey was golden.
I wonder in this world of over indulged, over scheduled and over tired life of a present day child if there is enough time to dream, imagine and create? I hope so, I know my life is richer for the experience.
In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “All About Me.” Why did I choose the title of my blog?
I chose my blog title name as it encompasses my core belief and need to surround myself with positive. I’m not a Pollyanna and do know from first hand account of touching the centre of my own sorrow and rising out of the ashes like a Phoenix reborn. I know from a career that has seen me witness to great sadness, at times more than a life can endure. I learned early that dwelling on the negative, sadness my soul, makes my heart heavy and does little else for myself or people around me.
The media is brilliant at focusing on angst, suffering and sensationalistic news bites coupled with photos that are etched in our minds forever. My blog was started as a way of continuing to find the silver lining or if no silver is to be found then to search for more and at least find copper and share with all who read my words.
i survived 27 years in healthcare with my heart intact and my soul only slightly tarnished. I took photos of beautiful things to combat the ugly. I surrounded myself with beautiful souled people and learned. I looked into the eyes of a child struggling and saw hope. I have spent time with people on their last days of life and learned what truly matters when the trappings of life are stripped away. I learned to focus on the positive and to accept life as it is and not what it might be in some long distance future which may never arrive. I am fortunate.
i look at life through a child’s eyes of wonder and amazement and at my best treat each day as new with a clean slate. I never remember negative and only remember the positive of any encounter For certain, some interactions the memories are scant as only the good remains.
I do know each of us is fortunate. Where there is breath, there is hope, life and endless possibilities. I suspect there are others more fortunate than myself, though I do not know the intimate details of their lives I only know what I can see and what they tell me, both are suspect I suspect there are people worse than me, though they likely have gifts that I do not possess and they do not see their life as a hardship, they see others strife as worse than their own. We can choose this or the alternative.
What is right in the world today? Everything! I challenge you to look and see with wide eyes and wonder. I challenge you to only keep the best and to trash the worst. Look. The good is always there sometimes you just need to look closer.
In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Choose Your Adventure.” Finish this story
Who does this? Who leaves a lucrative career and takes a flying leap into the abyss? Okay so maybe it’s not the abyss but rather a following of the heart. The voice whispers, “Me.” I’m sorry I missed that, say again, “Me,” the voice louder but shaky. Doubts creep in, a wedge created where words rush in quickly with lists of cons. She is a list maker, this tactic appeals to her logical side. She listens, each point pondered, each discarded after consideration and another list forms of pros. This side winning, her heart lightens then swells with the possibilities. Freedom, time, chances. After many years of following the rules she decides to follow her heart. Who does this? “Me”, the word solid, there is no wavering. She closes her eyes and imagines the possibilities, reconnecting with her younger self. She begins to dream again, to write and wonder as she sets foot into this new life, certain.
A year later she recalls the moment of decision and knows with certainty that this choice was…