So There It Goes Again!

Contactos Barbara JarrettLooking at the beauty of your face constantly brings a sensation impossible to describe with mere words. Seeing that sparkle in your eyes is intoxicating when it locks fully on to my gaze. Just as the wonder of it all crosses my mind, leaving me with no words I realize, so there it goes again.

What’s past is past and shall never again revive.
Every moment is new leaving behind something less than what it replaces. Instead of comparing with what is gone we need to grab what is here and now. Squeezing to render the very last drop of joy and bliss, so often followed by a kiss. Ahh…so there it goes again.

Shuffling through the sand on a beach, having lunch at a quaint restaurant, taking in the beauty of sun-tinted clouds creating one more celestial masterpiece, holding hands through it all. When did we get to this point, of knowing the extreme ecstasy of now? Wow…so there it goes again.

Far too deep for explanation, some things simply defy all attempts to apply words. Maybe that’s why those who try find constant frustration. Even to define a person is impossible as constant change is taking place. You have never been simple or easy to define and that’s as it should be. It’s the constant remolding of ourselves that creates what is, and there it goes again.

It can’t be called love, as that would attempt to define or limit this indescribable sensation. It is joy, excitement, pleasure, contentment, happiness, tenderness, gentleness, patience and more, all pulsating with their respective energy. A constant panorama presents itself that allows us to know it’s presence. Rarely do we catch it in the moment but we know, so there it goes again.

Here we are, fully enrolled in our sunset, where the colors seem more spectacular than before. There’s the sensation of oneness that grows stronger daily. The final release to grey becomes you, enhancing your beauty in ways beyond your ability to see. Approaching those moments longed for beyond decades, to give that final measure of completeness creates a radiance about you seen by all, especially me, and there it goes again.

What lies ahead is not shared, rather fully lived. The expectations of the past have turned to be those of anticipation. Excitement first soars then ebbs, then soars again as we know what comes, where change is now a known guest. Fighting against the unchangeable to absorb with gratitude what is. Witnessing enhancements by the heart, and there it goes again.

Knowing that each sunrise introduces a bare canvas to become a new creation to dissolve at sunset into dreams, spreading out to heavenly bodies lending more sparkle. Our time will come to join that energy, lending our light to those gazers below, dreaming great and romantic visions. Our spirit is everywhere, dismissing all limitations of space and time. A moment will come in the life of a searcher, and they too will say, so there it goes again.

I Know A Secret! #everydayinspiration Day 3

crazy-me2I have a secret
And you want to know
Just what it is
But I’ve been told

A secret is only such
Until it leaves my mouth
And once it does
The secrets out

Then it’s no fun
As the tale is known
Whether true or false
The damage is done

It could be
About Mrs. Martin’s cat
The crook in it’s tail
How you suppose it got that

Or the painted sign
On Radder’s barn
Was about tobacco
Now it’s about yarn

No one knows
Just what it can be
My lips are sealed
It stays with me

A bribe you say
The amount is what
My secret for that
Is that all you’ve got

No chance say I
To little for much
My secret is safe
Here in my clutch

Besides you see
That would never work
It’s priceless to me
To tell would hurt

It may not be me
So you must see
For a secret to be
Silence is a must
So says he

The mystery grows
What is this story
Suspicion is great
It never gets boring

Gossip is flowing
About this and that
All matter of tales
But not a shred of fact

Neighbors point fingers
First here then there
Still there are others
Pulling their hair

Tempers are flaring
But no one knows why
How could a secret
Create such a time

Some who are guilty
Of heaven knows what
Are certain this secret
Has discovered their lot

Desperate they are
To do drastic deeds
Who can imagine
Where all this leads

The secret keeper
Is beginning to feel
No secret should be
Such a big deal

Still mum is the word
Not even a hint
As to what it’s about
Or who it might tint

For all are quite certain
It must be about them
Seems secrets have the power
To touch every sin

What a surprise to know
When the truth is old
It was just so bold
This secret you see
Was nothing to be told

It must be a joke
All this stress for naught
No secret at all
We really got caught

But wait they all say
Could this be a trick
To make us all think
This was really just sick

It seems like it’s time
To put a stop to all this
Things are heating up
It could be a mess

No one believes
The secrets a lie
It may be
They have something to hide

The stress is exhausting
To continue this charade
What’s funnier still
Is the mess this made

What are they thinking
What terrible things
Have been done in secret
Now may have wings

Or so they think
Why else all the fuss
Such efforts to discover
This secret they must

Oh woe is me
With realization to come
This really was
Just to have some fun

What happened instead
Was facing inner truth
Funny how guilt
Can reveal real proof

There is no more
So what’s this for
Time to open the door
The secret’s a farce
As I roll on the floor

When Is Writing Not Writing?

A deadline for an article for a magazine is fast approaching and your 500 word piece is not finished. Worse yet, it’s on a topic that you’re really stuck on.

An editor has really trashed your piece, in your opinion, and changed it into something barely recognizable, and now it’s in print.

A client asked you do to a piece about their homesteading adventure, making sure to include points they had included, and it has to read like they wrote it.

Where is the freedom to write from the heart when you encounter projects like this? Being induced to write in a particular voice or format that is not natural does not seem like writing to me. Of course, who said I was the ultimate authority? In this case just speaking from my heart.

The times I have looked at the “rules” for submitting a piece to a particular magazine or request by a client, immediately put the wall up. As soon as some limitation is in place, originality goes out the window. I have a voice, and simply am unable to imagine not writing freely, without constraints. I’ve done the other and it was an effort, and not a labor of love. There were a lot of words typed out following predetermined formats. No thanks. Not again.

I love to read, and have had the privilege to read some of the classics, many works of fiction, along with those some call “self help” books. Hemingway, Zane Grey, Pearl Buck, James Michener, Isaac Asimov, Napoleon Hill, to name just a few of more than 500 titles by these and others in my digital library. The small books that hold giant truths by the likes of James Allen. Others somewhat obscure, full of mystery by Wallace Wattles. They all have something to say.

Some hide behind pseudonyms and pen names, for reasons I’m not entirely sure of, but all have subjects dear to their hearts they want to share with the world. Whether stories of life, incredible challenges, side-splitting humor, or looks into the far future. Accounts produced from minds looking for that freedom to express, expand, motivate and illuminate.

While writing to satisfy others is still called writing, somehow for me this would be the same as a 9 to 5 job compared to the freedom of roaming the expanse of a vast mountain range. One sees walls while another sees all the senses can capture. I’m not sure how that can compare, yet for some perhaps it does.

I love to include photos and even videos with my writing. Facts seem to bear out that images are still worth at least 1000 words. That may be a good experiment, to choose a picture and then see if I can come up with that many.

Then there are the poems to narrate with a musical background. While it may not be a song per se, depending on how you hear it could make the difference. Musical writing, not songs but poems with multiple rhythms.

Here I must confess being influenced by a very popular poet of the ‘60s, by name of Rod McKuen. His works with Anita Kerr and the San Sebastian Strings produced The Earth, The Sky and The Sea albums. Awesome examples of poetry put to music. Since that time I have wanted to do something similar, and have managed to record three so far.20150212_104833

Digital applications today make it possible to do right from home. In case you’ve missed those, here are the links. Clouds, Let’s Go Flying!, and Echo’s In The Present. I make no claims to be a Rod McKuen, it’s just my first attempt at something I felt then, and now, a beautiful way to do poetry.

We still marvel at the power of words to move us in ways delightful, surprising, emotional and joyful. An intimate sharing of my heart, hopefully to touch yours uniquely.

Are The Clouds In Your Life Dark Or With Silver Linings?

Who walks under a dark cloud? Isn’t this something everyone tries to avoid? Are there those who actually look for “dark clouds” and feel uncomfortable without one? Does that remind you of anyone?

Watching the clouds play with the mountain peak.
Watching the clouds play with the mountain peak.

Speaking for myself I don’t go out of my way to look for things to darken my day, clouds or otherwise. Do they come? If by that do I mean obstacles, difficulties, things I have to deal with that I would rather not? How about they arrive on a regular basis.

Over the decades I have become a survivor by nature. What that means is I have a low threshold with trust, so I learn how to deal with every situation that arises in a way that allows my survival mode to continue and thrive.

Are there consequences to that? I would be the first to say that on the outside it appears I am a very outgoing, friendly individual. That is a learned behavior. Yet under stress that friendly nature becomes very controlling and dominate! That tends to rub others the wrong way and gives the impression of aloofness and arrogance.

So what color are my clouds? I would have to say they are not black or gray. Maybe a little beige if there is such a thing, and a reasonable part of the time snowy white.

One of my favorite pastimes is taking photos of sunsets and sunrises. Now there are some amazing colors the sun can paste on those clouds. Colors I swear I’ve never seen before. Like a kaleidoscope some of the patterns seem similar, but it just never happens. There is always a slight difference with each turn of the tube. Clouds certainly fit that description, as do the colors that paint them.

And what is it about those puffy white accumulations of moisture in the air that has the tendency to make us feel good, positive, even happy? Well the happy part decidedly comes from within and is a choice. So how are the other two emotions accounted for as it relates to white, puffy clouds?

Are they somehow being related to whipped cream or cotton candy? The obvious association with two foods that are both sweet and enjoyable to most would not be a hard thing to accept.

Now when you put that spin on clouds, why would anyone want to ever go looking for the menacing, threatening black ones? Well, that’s not me so why even go there?

Clouds seem to have the ability to make me feel good, creating a positive feeling. I think the reality is that they always follow the storm, being a sign for the end of turbulence, the nearly overwhelming concussion of thunder and the threat of a lightening strike on your person.

It gave me cause to create a music poem, with spontaneous thoughts in league with musical inspiration. Instead of writing the words, music was played and the words were inspired by the sounds. It’s been added to this post so hopefully you will find it enjoyable.

Do You Determine What Music Is By Definition Or Attraction?

The dictionary definition of music is;  vocal or instrumental sounds (or both) combined in such a way as to produce beauty of form, harmony, and expression of emotion.

I got to thinking about what is included in the music genre today and failed to see how some of those forms called music could seriously qualify.

Narrow-mindedness is never a good quality when attempting to weigh the balance of something like music. Sounds pleasing to my ear in another culture may be painful to endure. For that matter there are sounds right here in our culture that are painful to my ear.
Cuicocha-2013-15 5
There have been sounds during the last 50 years that to a musical ear would be little different than nails screeching across a blackboard. It reminds me of a few of those garage bands that really needed to never come out.

Going back to the definition of music, it speaks of harmony, beauty of form, and expression of emotion. Extreme is a word that would fit when it comes to many of the newer fads like rap and hip hop.

Lyrics have gotten vulgar and ugly. That mixed with hate and anger are what some actually want to attempt and include in that definition of expression of emotion. It just seems the beauty of form and harmony were sort of overlooked.

Maybe the problem is there aren’t enough poets writing songs. It seems anything that can adapt a musical background can call itself music. It also seems like there is just a constant regurgitating of the same themes.

Real love songs would be hard to find, that talk about the romance, sweetness, tenderness, thoughtfulness and gentleness. Leaving out all the reference to copulation and corruption of morals seems to be a must for potential success.

I wrote in a previous piece how our parents complained about the “Rock and Roll” from the ‘60s era. Is the same thing happening to those of us in the “Boomer” gang? Are we just as guilty as our parents accepting the change in what is termed “music” today?

I keep going back to “beauty of form, harmony, and expression of emotion.” Today has no corner on anger or hate. It seems there were better efforts at relating those emotions through music. Today those actions are superimposed on moldable minds through what pass as music videos.

Even though there are styles of what I would call music that are not among my favorites, such as Bluegrass, many of what are labeled “New Age,” and others, it’s difficult to compare those to Rap as music.

When chills tickle my skin and make me shiver just a bit hearing a vocal or instrumental piece, to me embodies that expression of emotion. The claim that the anger, hate, aggression and vulgarity are beauty of form and expression of emotion instead of psychological warfare to me falls short. 

It’s time to bring back those old fashioned love songs, sung in three part harmony. Those about the lazy, hazy, crazy days of summer. Where have they gone?