The quiet of the morning tells us so much about ourselves, and we realize what’s truly important and what’s not. This may be it. This day may be all we get and it is up to us how we choose to spend it. We can agonize about situations. We can be mad at people. We can cry, pout, and worry. Or, not.
One more day, how lucky are we? One more day to do it all over again and set it right even if for just one day. One more day to love, laugh, hug, dance, eat, drink, and smile. We get to forget, erase all that happened yesterday. It’s gone and done with.
Therefore, today, as I walk out of my door on this very beautiful crisp December morning, I will smile more especially at strangers. I will sing and dance and love. And, when the day is over, I will hope to get another and do it all over again but with a little more passion than today.
Monday, December 13, 2010
Thursday, December 9, 2010
Caution Handle with Care
Don’t you wish men came with a big label plastered on their forehead that read, “Caution, psychotic man enclosed. Handle with care.” Wouldn’t that make our lives so much easier? But, they don’t, unfortunately. Therefore, we need to proceed with great caution.
When we were 16, it was okay to rush in. If things got a little too hot, we quickly let go, and moved on. It was okay to go a little fast, it was all part of the learning curve. But, we’re not 16 anymore. We have learned from rushing in too fast too many times; and, the lessons have been hard, difficult, and painful at times. We had the time to spare then, now not so much.
In our quest for “Mr. Right”, we have learned how to sift, carve, and find that unbelievable man that is out there waiting for us. It’s okay if we stumble, fall, and get our knees skinned on occasion. It happens. No biggie. The important thing is to enter with caution. Slow it down a bit, no need to speed into relationships. Stride in slowly, carefully, and with patience. And, ladies, listen to that little voice that is always so right.
Listen carefully and never doubt, conversations and much time spent together will slowly reveal what lies beneath and no label will be necessary because truth always prevails and rises to the occasion. Just slow it down and if he is right, he’ll wait; and if not, it won’t matter.
When we were 16, it was okay to rush in. If things got a little too hot, we quickly let go, and moved on. It was okay to go a little fast, it was all part of the learning curve. But, we’re not 16 anymore. We have learned from rushing in too fast too many times; and, the lessons have been hard, difficult, and painful at times. We had the time to spare then, now not so much.
In our quest for “Mr. Right”, we have learned how to sift, carve, and find that unbelievable man that is out there waiting for us. It’s okay if we stumble, fall, and get our knees skinned on occasion. It happens. No biggie. The important thing is to enter with caution. Slow it down a bit, no need to speed into relationships. Stride in slowly, carefully, and with patience. And, ladies, listen to that little voice that is always so right.
Listen carefully and never doubt, conversations and much time spent together will slowly reveal what lies beneath and no label will be necessary because truth always prevails and rises to the occasion. Just slow it down and if he is right, he’ll wait; and if not, it won’t matter.
Wednesday, December 1, 2010
Poker Face
We are dealt a hand; we study it; and we do the best we can to play it. Time and time again, we fold. We smirk at the hand we’re dealt. We sigh in disbelief. And, at times, we put all we’ve got into the pot only to walk away empty handed leaving all that we are on the table.
Frustrated, we wonder if we’re ever going to be able to reap the rewards. How many more hands do we need to play? Is it worth it? Should we stop and just quit the game altogether?
Exhausted, from losing time and time again, we wonder why some take the pot so easily while we struggle endlessly.
Somehow, we find the courage to jump right back in the game and praying that this will be our hand. The one we’ve been waiting for. The one that will get us to that pot that we’ve been dreaming of for so long. But, our chip count is low, we’ve got very little left to give and what if we give all we have yet again only to walk away with nothing one more time.
We sit still. We stare at our hand knowing that it may never ever be this good again. Knowing that this is the winning hand, we hesitate. Do we have the guts to bet it all or will we fold? Throwing it all in the pot with nothing left, we forge on in the game of life.
Frustrated, we wonder if we’re ever going to be able to reap the rewards. How many more hands do we need to play? Is it worth it? Should we stop and just quit the game altogether?
Exhausted, from losing time and time again, we wonder why some take the pot so easily while we struggle endlessly.
Somehow, we find the courage to jump right back in the game and praying that this will be our hand. The one we’ve been waiting for. The one that will get us to that pot that we’ve been dreaming of for so long. But, our chip count is low, we’ve got very little left to give and what if we give all we have yet again only to walk away with nothing one more time.
We sit still. We stare at our hand knowing that it may never ever be this good again. Knowing that this is the winning hand, we hesitate. Do we have the guts to bet it all or will we fold? Throwing it all in the pot with nothing left, we forge on in the game of life.
Saturday, November 20, 2010
The Sound of Silence
There is something to be said for silence. So much to be heard in the depths of the sound waves that flow through the vastness that is. The pleasure of listening to the universe and the message that it tries to convey on a daily basis; minute by minute; with every second that passes by.
Problem is that we create a world of noise around us. We create havoc and clutter. We create thunderous noise that impedes us from hearing what is being gently whispered. We are blind to the colors of the sunrise; the turning of the leaves; the blues of the ocean. We are deaf to the sound of the waves; the morning robin’s melody; the whisper of the wind.
How simple life would be without the clutter that we bring to the universe. The constant bickering and arguing; the pride; the vanity; and, the greed. How fabulous if every second would be treasured as if it were our last. If we loved without conviction. If we gave without expectations. If we listened to the sound of silence.
For all we have for certain is this second. All we are guaranteed is this moment. All we really need is now. If we would shed all the false layers created by the ego and allowed our soul to shine through, we would see the reflection of the universe. And, it would all make perfect sense. Nothing for us to do but be.
Problem is that we create a world of noise around us. We create havoc and clutter. We create thunderous noise that impedes us from hearing what is being gently whispered. We are blind to the colors of the sunrise; the turning of the leaves; the blues of the ocean. We are deaf to the sound of the waves; the morning robin’s melody; the whisper of the wind.
How simple life would be without the clutter that we bring to the universe. The constant bickering and arguing; the pride; the vanity; and, the greed. How fabulous if every second would be treasured as if it were our last. If we loved without conviction. If we gave without expectations. If we listened to the sound of silence.
For all we have for certain is this second. All we are guaranteed is this moment. All we really need is now. If we would shed all the false layers created by the ego and allowed our soul to shine through, we would see the reflection of the universe. And, it would all make perfect sense. Nothing for us to do but be.
Saturday, November 13, 2010
Sugar & Spice
The lady, an extinct species. A forgotten breed, left to parish among the so called trivial things of the past. Seems that the progressive movement has lead us into a new dark age for today’s woman.
Forgotten are the days of beautiful love letters, poems, champagne, roses, and lyrics born from the elegance of a lady. Left in the wallows of the past is the old-fashion lady who batted her eyes and even blushed when a man approached her. We traded in romance for sex.
Today’s woman in the quest for independence and equality is a washed down version of a true lady. Elegance, taste, décor, and the simple things that set women aside from the mundane has been tossed aside and exchanged for nothing more than a loud, cheap version of what was.
No need to advertise, a quiet whisper can be just as effective. No need to scream it out, a soft smile can say as much. Sometimes silence is louder than words. Women are by far the most beautiful creature created in the universe. Why do we not value ourselves for the precious gems that we are?
Call me stuffy, old-fashioned, ridiculous, and any other adjective you’d like to throw in there, but this is one girl that still believes in sugar and spice and everything nice.
Forgotten are the days of beautiful love letters, poems, champagne, roses, and lyrics born from the elegance of a lady. Left in the wallows of the past is the old-fashion lady who batted her eyes and even blushed when a man approached her. We traded in romance for sex.
Today’s woman in the quest for independence and equality is a washed down version of a true lady. Elegance, taste, décor, and the simple things that set women aside from the mundane has been tossed aside and exchanged for nothing more than a loud, cheap version of what was.
No need to advertise, a quiet whisper can be just as effective. No need to scream it out, a soft smile can say as much. Sometimes silence is louder than words. Women are by far the most beautiful creature created in the universe. Why do we not value ourselves for the precious gems that we are?
Call me stuffy, old-fashioned, ridiculous, and any other adjective you’d like to throw in there, but this is one girl that still believes in sugar and spice and everything nice.
Copyright ©Lucy Tamajon 2009
Wednesday, November 10, 2010
Through the Looking Glass
I stood before the mirror this morning, and I wondered what was on the other side. More specifically, who? Did I even know that person staring at me, and could I cross over into her world? Maybe it was a better world? Maybe she had answers to some of my questions? She must, she looked familiar. Did she know why nothing had turned out as “planned”. Surely, she would know. And, so, I stepped through the looking glass.
As I did so, everything was in reverse. It was as if I was looking at an “old fashion” negative of a picture. Everything was on the opposite side. Up was down. Left was right. Black was white. The colors did not correspond. The sky was not blue, but purple. The oceans were soft and calm; and the moon was within reach. I walked through her world, and I found comfort in the peace that she showed me. As we sat on a star, we shared thoughts.
She did not question the choices made, they were all good, they were all necessary. She did not torture herself with guilt about how she had loved. She did not expect much from those around her. She had no disappointment about how she raised her children because they were not “hers”, they belonged to the world. She was grateful for being a vessel to bring them forth. She understood happiness, it stems from within. She took time to point out the “things” around her, noting that they were not mere “things” but details within a beautiful painting. There was so much comfort in her being. Her smile was bright, and as I stared at her, I knew everything would be alright.
As I stepped in front of the mirror again ready to journey back; somehow, I did not recognize who I was at all. I wondered if I wanted to journey back into my “old” world. The world through the looking glass seemed so much more beautiful. Perfect.
I looked at the woman again, she was young, carefree, and childlike. I know I've seen her before. I hesitated, and asked a simple question, “Can I stay?” She smiled. “You've never left. You just need to shed the layers of falseness created by the world you live in and not the world you were born into.”
As I did so, everything was in reverse. It was as if I was looking at an “old fashion” negative of a picture. Everything was on the opposite side. Up was down. Left was right. Black was white. The colors did not correspond. The sky was not blue, but purple. The oceans were soft and calm; and the moon was within reach. I walked through her world, and I found comfort in the peace that she showed me. As we sat on a star, we shared thoughts.
She did not question the choices made, they were all good, they were all necessary. She did not torture herself with guilt about how she had loved. She did not expect much from those around her. She had no disappointment about how she raised her children because they were not “hers”, they belonged to the world. She was grateful for being a vessel to bring them forth. She understood happiness, it stems from within. She took time to point out the “things” around her, noting that they were not mere “things” but details within a beautiful painting. There was so much comfort in her being. Her smile was bright, and as I stared at her, I knew everything would be alright.
As I stepped in front of the mirror again ready to journey back; somehow, I did not recognize who I was at all. I wondered if I wanted to journey back into my “old” world. The world through the looking glass seemed so much more beautiful. Perfect.
I looked at the woman again, she was young, carefree, and childlike. I know I've seen her before. I hesitated, and asked a simple question, “Can I stay?” She smiled. “You've never left. You just need to shed the layers of falseness created by the world you live in and not the world you were born into.”
Saturday, November 6, 2010
He loves me. He loves me, not.
Remember when we were kids and we were trying to figure out if some guy “liked” us. We'd pick a daisy from a garden and sit on our front stoop; “he loves me, he loves me not. He loves me, he loves me not.” Hoping that that last petal would have the answer our heart was waiting for. And, if it didn't we'd do it all over again.
A mountain of petals later, years of experience in the field of love, I am able to advice my friends and help them seek answers to their love situations without having to dismantle anymore flowers; but, I'm still plucking at petals in hopes of getting the answer to my own heart's desires.
I sit astonished and wondering how I missed the signs? Were there signs? Am I reading too much into something that is not there? How did I miss it? Or, did I?
Perhaps, I just can't believe that what I am able to point out to others as “obvious signs” that, “yes, girl! What's wrong with you? He's interested.” ; in my own circumstances, I cannot see. Am I totally blind? I don't think so.
Deep down, I am more of a child than I thought I was. Or perhaps, I haven't lost my little girl dream; still looking at the horizon waiting patiently for that Prince on a white horse, I just have a fairytale heart that regardless how beat up it is, it still believes.
Dissolution by life's hard knocks, I find myself sitting on my front stoop this Autumn morning holding a beautiful pink pansy with five amazing petals. No plucking required, I can do the math.
A mountain of petals later, years of experience in the field of love, I am able to advice my friends and help them seek answers to their love situations without having to dismantle anymore flowers; but, I'm still plucking at petals in hopes of getting the answer to my own heart's desires.
I sit astonished and wondering how I missed the signs? Were there signs? Am I reading too much into something that is not there? How did I miss it? Or, did I?
Perhaps, I just can't believe that what I am able to point out to others as “obvious signs” that, “yes, girl! What's wrong with you? He's interested.” ; in my own circumstances, I cannot see. Am I totally blind? I don't think so.
Deep down, I am more of a child than I thought I was. Or perhaps, I haven't lost my little girl dream; still looking at the horizon waiting patiently for that Prince on a white horse, I just have a fairytale heart that regardless how beat up it is, it still believes.
Dissolution by life's hard knocks, I find myself sitting on my front stoop this Autumn morning holding a beautiful pink pansy with five amazing petals. No plucking required, I can do the math.
Copyright ©Lucy Tamajon 2010
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