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Quote of the Day – August 11, 2012
There is something you must always remember. You are braver than you believe, stronger than you seem, and smarter than you think. ~ Winnie the Pooh
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My Writing Journal
My journal. Â Yes, it does exist, much as I some days wish it didn’t… mocking me with its presence, the guilt building the longer I put off writing. Â But I do write in it, eventually. Â Granted, the writing is often scraps, bits and pieces which may or may not ever actually end up on a story…
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Quote of the Day – August 10, 2012
In a controversy the instant we feel anger we have already ceased striving for the truth, and have begun striving for ourselves. ~ Buddha
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Quote of the Day – August 9, 2012
We cannot be more sensitive to pleasure without being more sensitive to pain. ~ Alan Watts
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Untitled – Snippet – August 9, 2012
I studied his face. His eyes were bright in the guttering candlelight. His pupils were wide, pushing out all color to their coal blackness. His skin was faintly darkened by sun and wind-roughened along high cheekbones. Although his face was lean and worn by years, it maintained an impish hint of youth.Â
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Quote of the Day – August 8, 2012
The friend who can be silent with us in a moment of despair or confusion, who can stay with us in an hour of grief and bereavement, who can tolerate not knowing… not healing, not curing… that is a friend who cares. ~ Henri Nouwen
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Quote of the Day – August 7, 2012
Holding on to anger is like grasping a hot coal with the intent of throwing it at someone else; you are the one who gets burned. ~Buddha
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Child Wisdom
As my former partner and I were, today, trying to stumble our way through one of our first conversations since a painful and at times ugly parting of our romantic connection, his son was pouting over being denied (justifiably!) a particular sugary treat. Eventually the four-year-old crawled onto the bed beside his father and told him, “I’m mad at you, but I still love you.”
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Broken Toys
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Penance
Trig pads across the carpet until he stands a long step from David’s feet. David lets his head roll to one side and gazes silently at Trig for a long moment. I look at Trig, too. The muscles in his throat twitch and his eyes seem focused on empty space. For just a second the tip of his tongue flickers over his lower lip then disappears as he presses his lips together, muscles tensing along his jaw.
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Secrets to Keep
There were bruises on my hands. I wasn’t to write with my left. I knew it but I forgot. At least I think I forgot. Maybe I was just angry. First grade isn’t for babies. Only babies switch hands when they write. I was to use my right hand. The ruler stung the backs of my hands to remind me when I forgot. Or maybe when I was angry.