Tag: relationship

Turn Up the Volume in Your Life. {Poetry}

MediumNoise

 

It’s gonna get loud,

messy,

wild, and so

go with those sounds…

add your own voice,

singing along

even out-of-tune, but

don’t be consumed with an ideal of silence

for some meditations

come with the waving of a wand,

tapping it twice on your left shoulder,

and saying,

“We’re living in the brisk breaths of wildness

for that is how

we hear the mysterious magic

in the roaring sounds of cacophony.”

Copyright 2017 Jessie Zanita

 

Poet’s Note:

I woke up with a lot of noise outside my window this morning.

I had a choice: complain, or join in the cacophony.

I turned on my music and grooved.

I danced a little while doing the things that needed to be done on a Monday morning. I laughed at how it’s so easy to get stuck in an idea in which silence is a necessary tool for creativity. Yep, it helps, but there’s also a need for loudness in the creative process.

So, if you can, then give it a try today. Let go of predetermined ideas, and turn up the volume in your life.

Join in the cacophony of being alive!

 

Photo Credit: Seth Doyle/Unsplash

The Absolutely Essential Gift to Share this Year.

givingglitterpixabay

You thought that I’d say: your glittering presence is the only gift necessary.

Okay, yes, that is a sweet one, and yet there’s one more absolutely essential gift to share this year.

Your friends will discover a sense of wonder when they unwrap this absolutely essential gift.

In fact, this little package may propel others to a whole new Universe.

And—that gift is Art Supplies.

What? You say, arching an eyebrow.

What if? I reply with a twinkle in my green eyes.

What if we shared the tools of creation instead of some cheap gag gift or obnoxious peach candle?

What if by giving a notebook of watercolor paper, some brushes, and watercolor paints then you spark a creative fuel in your friend’s soul?

But where do I start? You mumble.

Well, you can collect some dried birch bark and old wood-stove charcoal—just kidding, I’d stop by one of the local art stores near you.

Wander around the art shop, and think of your friend’s soul energy.

Are they the type who chills out with meditation music (oil paints — it’s a slow process) or are they always in motion (acrylic paints — they dry quickly)?

Do they love getting messy? Clay. Do they enjoy writing? Calligraphy pens.

Now—quick!

Get out your shopping list, and add this absolutely essential gift to the top of it because your friends will love you for bringing a little more creativity into their lives!

Bring the glitter, and your glittering presence this year!

Copyright 2016 Jessie Zanita Wright
Photo Credit:  Ventus17/Pixabay

Listen, & Don’t say Hello.

Don’t even think of saying “Hello.

Hang up.

Delete the number.

Erase the text you were about to send.

“I was wondering if after all these years you’d like to meet.”

I know. I know. Adele’s lyrics are gorgeous: an emotional land mine tearing through your body. The music pulses with the possibilities of rekindling a lost love, old moments of fun, and the bravery of reaching out.

The beautiful song is like a damn Pavlov experiment—you know, the experiment about the dog and the bell—but do you truly want a song to create a conditioned response to reach out to old lovers?

The transformative power of music doesn’t always mean that you need to change who you’ve become since you last saw that old flame—even if the words hit home—because you are stronger than that.

“Did you ever make it out of that town where nothing ever happened?”

Come on, don’t give in!

Yes, but you do, and it hits you because the song comes on while you’re waiting for the bus, and you’ve got time, so you pull out your phone.

“It’s no secret that the both of us
Are running out of time.”

Stop, don’t do it!

Listen, here’s the undeniable truth for at 99.9% of us—those old flings, lovers, boyfriends, girlfriends are over. A chapter of life that’s closed. Finished. Page turned.

All those lovely moments live in the past. You are alive now, not yesterday.

We can’t get those tantalizing times back even as much pleasure as those connections brought (as well as the pain they probably caused you, and the other person).

Trust me, I tried, once.

My cheeks still burn red when I think of that impulsive self-inflicting attempt which turned out to be an epic embarrassment because my curiosity about the fuzziness of past events were insatiable.

My “Hello” turned out to be a total foot-in-my-mouth situation that I’ve since learned to laugh (and still blush) at it instead of cringing with annoyance for being so pushy.

And yet, Adele’s “Hello” pulls at the heart strings.

“To tell you I’m sorry for breaking your heart.”

Yes, the lines are stunning, but be honest: really listen to her last line.

“But it don’t matter it clearly doesn’t tear you apart anymore.”

Hang up.

Delete the number.

Erase the text you were about to send.

Instead listen to Adele’s mesmerizing voice, enjoy the memories, and step into the now.

Copyright 2015 © Jessie Wright

The Dance of Being Alive.

Transformation isn’t as simple as climbing into a cocoon, and dreaming until we unfold our butterfly wings.

Changing is a dance.

We glide forward, and then back, and forward again.

It’s moving in a rhythm—most likely our own inner one—across the dance floor of life.

At times, we’ll space out, and trip over our own toes, thinking that we don’t know how to dance, but we do. We’ll sit on the floor under the weight of self-loathing until we remember that change isn’t meant to be a warm cocoon.

It’s the pressures of living that shape us into our gorgeous selves.

Our bodies were made to be in motion.

We’re designed to enjoy the sensation of wind along our arms, to play in the ocean waves. We learn though loving, and losing. We’ll despise our mistakes in new jobs or old lovers. We don’t learn by staying in a cocoon, but by experiencing life.

Sure, we’ll wonder if we made the wrong choices that got us to these moments where we’ve forgotten that dancing is part of living, even if we occasionally step on another’s toes, but still we must dance.

The beauty of transformation is in those awkward pauses after tumbling out of time, and being too scared to move. It is there in those moments of self-doubt that we’ll see how change takes a special sort of madness: a faith in ourselves, and others.

Transformation requires an on-going dedication to effort: a persistence of our soul’s desire, especially through the chaos of the ordinary.

We’ll keep shuffling our feet, putting our hand on our heart, and discovering our pulse. Feel the rhythm within our soul—the one that is constant as our world changes, and we become the who are meant to be in this dance of being alive.

Copyright 2015 © Jessie Wright