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 A new blog to contain answers to prompts |
Since my old blog "Everyday Canvas "  became overfilled, here's a new one. This new blog item will continue answering prompts, the same as the old one. Cool water cascading to low ground
To spread good will and hope all around.  |
| Prompt: What did you do Christmas Eve? Write about this in your Blog entry today. -------- Not much to write about. My Christmas Eve had nothing to do with Tennyson's calling for renewal in his Christmas Eve poem, "Ring out, wild bells." At my age, I'd be worried about any renewals or bells ringing. On the plus side, since my family is scattered all over the world, we had a nice group chat on Messenger. My younger son came and went and checked on my new home security system, his gift. Not that I need one, but my sons wanted me to have it. Maybe I can put up signs on the doors, saying, "Smile, you're on candid camera!" Then, I went to bed as usual right after supper, which me going to bed means reading and doing puzzles until midnight or later. This is my down time and I appreciate it. Btw, someone said, "Time doesn't exist when you're reading in bed. It's just a pleasant void of endless chapters." Pleasant void it is, and as to time, I have no sense of it. But that is a good thing. It makes me to forget all the years I lived up to now. I wonder if this is what happens when us, the oldest chunk of society, starts losing "it." So, I hope everyone had a great Xmas Eve and may we all keep on reading and writing in the new year; that is, after we've mastered the new ways of WdC.   |
| Prompt: Christmas. Write about Christmas for your Blog entry today. ---------- Wrapped in Tinsel without Naming "IT" It’s that time again, calendar insists half joyful in tone, half as threat, the lights blink wildly, placing a bet and the tree's dragged in, crowned like king dropping its needles on everything this tree leans to left, what message it sends? I dare think, to give my patience a try still, my smile's wide, I don't know why when old songs repeat till my sanity bends about bells, and joy, and close friends and cookies vanish with suspicious intent while I fill socks as if it's a priceless art for my scented candle's shaped like a heart. If stressed I may be, until Santa will appear I smile real wide, perform laughter and cheer. |
| Prompt: The Christmas Tree Lessons from a Christmas Tree: Be a light in the darkness. We all fall over sometimes. You can never wear too much glitter. Bring joy to others. Sparkle and twinkle as often as possible. It's okay to be a little tilted. Jane Lee Logan What do you think this poem-quote means? And/or, what does being a little tilted mean to you? ------------------- Such pine-scented wisdom, don't you think? It seems to me the "Live, Laugh, Love" plaque in a gift shop is wearing a tinsel scarf, here. Yet, that scarf is being picked up by a rebellious elf. On top of it all, all that wise advice is being offered by a chopped-down speaker-tree who is decorated possibly against its will and expected to perform cheerfully for a few days, only. As if a last will and testament. But afterwards??? Oh, that poor Christmas tree! Still, despite its approaching end, the tree might be saying, "Look here, if I can glow while drying and dying out, so can you. That is, after I shed my dignity onto your rug." With this, it exemplifies the advice, "Be a light in the darkness.” What is not metaphorical here is that trees fall, lean, get pushed over by cats, toddlers, and maybe a drunk relative who gestures wildly while telling a story. So, the tree says, “We all fall over sometimes,” which is only physics and not the tree's failure. Then, I have to give it to the tree's good nature when it says, “You can never wear too much glitter.” “Sparkle and twinkle as often as possible” reinforces this idea of the tree showing off. Well, it may be wonderful for a tree, but too much glitter is too much for me. And although the tree may scoff at my restraint, at my minimalism, does the tree know that glitter is its armor and my armor is evading attraction? After I have pointed that out, I can balance it with this line from the tree: “Bring joy to others.” This is good advice even when I may feel lopsided. It may even mean to me something like, don't do anything but be there, be present. At times, just showing up over or under-dressed and leaning to one's side can show resilience, good humor, and willingness to be in the presence of others. Then, my favorite advice shines better than any glitter on any tree: “It’s okay to be a little tilted.” The word "tilted" shows wisdom and it doesn't mean being broken. It means 'lived-in.' It means being bumped by reality. It means I don't choose to straighten myself to please others. Plus, a tilted tree still lights the place more memorably, at times, than a perfectly upright one. I certainly hope, people will remember that tilted tree, together with me, as the ones that almost fell over and were leaning toward chaos, but still kept shining, anyway. |
| Prompt: Spreading Light "There are two ways of spreading light: to be the candle or the mirror that reflects it." Edith Wharton Write about this quote's meaning. Can you think of other ways of reflecting or spreading light besides being the candle or the mirror? ----------- I don't want to burn up as a candle and neither do I like reflecting others' views all that much. Does my stance leave me any other choice? We'll see. First, let's look at the candle and the mirror, two humble objects for how light moves through our world. A candle burns itself out, so that the darkness can loosen its grip. Yet, while burning off, the candle's light warms faces, invites closeness, and softens hard edges. A mirror doesn't sacrifice itself. It catches light and images and reflects them as they are, without altering anything about them. To be a mirror means having clarity to reflect something precious to those who have forgotten they are already carrying that precious something. In addition, there may be other ways to spread light, too. How about by asking questions? Questions that make people think and give space to different perspectives. Then, there are those who spread light like a lighthouse, steadily, firmly, and without chasing anyone. Their personal existence is what makes everything so clear and believable. Also, light can be spread by listening to others well and thoroughly. If for nothing but when a person is heard, really heard, something inside them may brighten and may come alive. Hearing and understanding others may have to do with kindness, too, for kindness itself is a light. It is unforgettable, even when it is sudden and brief. There is also the light of truth, maybe harsh at first, but necessary for growth. It is like the early morning sun shining into the eyes of people, trying to wake them up. Sometimes, where light is concerned, burning can come up in the works. Other times, it may be reflecting, but mostly, the way I look at it it, it means stepping aside to give room to others and to refuse to block their light. So, just maybe, the idea of light is not to be whether the candle or the mirror. The idea may have to do with our own stance and feelings of respect for all people and the truth. Plus, I believe the search for light involves the hard questions we need to ask ourselves, such as: "What kind of darkness am I standing in right now?" This way, being truthful to oneself may mean turning on a light. After all, light is generous. It will use any excuse to travel and illuminate. |
| Prompt: Imagination “The color of springtime is in the flowers; the color of winter is in the imagination.” Terri Guillemets Which kinds of stories, poems, or writing can you imagine in relation to the color of winter? And what inspires you the most during the winter months? ----------- To me, winter has a quieter palette, but with strong hues, possibly with the absence of some colors. They may still inspire emotionally strong pieces to a thoughtful writer. When I say a "thoughtful writer," I am certainly not referring to yours truly. Maybe I might look inward from time to time, but I am of the kind who just sits down and writes, and then worries about the offside ideas with paragraphs whose repeated words are usually too close together. So, let's say, just any writer. Just any writer would sit down and think and explore winter's hues, first. So, let's follow that writer's steps. That writer would say, white is the most dominant voice in winter. Like a blank page, snow, frost, and pale skies create a sense of an untouched impression, as an untouched thing of an impression can often inspire reflection and introspection. A memoir comes to mind, as well as personal essays, and spare poetry, and I mean nothing too wordy or fancy. Furthermore, the snow's whiteness changes over time. Sometimes, it turns to slush under the gray skies and dusk. So the next color has to be gray. Gray may inspire essays about uncertainty, stories that live between right and wrong, poems that explore grief, waiting, or emotional fatigue. It is probably subtle and thoughtful, more interested in questions than answers. It may use internal monologue a lot in a character-driven fiction, in which case, deliberate silences can speak loudly. Just for the fun of it and since sometimes a winter sky brings up its blues, I'll have to add blue next. Blue means prose and poetry that meditate, perhaps about loss, distance, melancholy, longing, and hopefully some depth. Something like the letters never sent, but written anyway. Then, there's that black, which sets in with the earlier nights, stretching over bare trees, inviting the darkest themes. I'd guess those themes would be gothic fiction, mystery, and dark philosophical reflections. It pushes writers to be drawn to the noir as if to confront fears, endings, and the unknown. Yet, winter still can offer touches of what is warm. The glow from the fireplace and lamplights, red berries, and colors of citrus in the setting sun with golds and oranges come to mind. They might show up in shades but may inspire hope-filled writing, anyway, such as short stories about human connections, poems about resilience, and essays about finding light in confinement. This contrast of the warmer tones against the white, black, and gray can remind a writer that winter has some uplifting meaning after all. Come to think of it, winter writing is often quieter, but it is rarely shallow. In those wintry hues, a writer may find clarity, depth, and the courage to tell the truest of stories. Coming back to me, again, this doesn't involve me at all. For the last three and a half decades, I have been living in a part of the country when seasons are in a jumble and everything gets mixed up with everything else. Still, not bad. Possibly that's why I ended up writing the drama NL and my silly thoughts in my blogs. |
| Prompt: Have fun with these words: Elves, cloaks, spaghetti, mouse, lift. advertise, betray, tent, and attraction. ---------- This Circus! When I was little, I thought, life would be acrobats, clowns, and stunts, silly me! Under a striped *tent, I thought life's circus would hum at dusk, with *elves in velvet *cloaks juggling stars, and *spaghetti (and I so loved spaghetti), such fun! And a painted *mouse would ride to a drumroll’s pulse, to the *lift of gasps and claps from the crowd. When I was little, I thought, life would be acrobats, clowns, and stunts, silly me! In my mind's eye, I saw the stars and posters *advertise the wonder in curling ink, but I didn't know that some cute tricks could *betray the hands that made them, and that laughter never lasted long, yet now, I hope for a brief and bright final *attraction. For now I'm old, and life still is just the same, I see, with acrobats, clowns, stunts, plus tears, silly me! |
| Prompt: Begin your entry with---The girl can't help herself. It's your blog, have fun writing a short story or a poem or just a rant. ----------- The Girl Can’t Help Herself The girl can’t help herself, although she knows nostalgia lies she hoards old summers like contraband and ticket stubs, cassettes, letters of his the smell of rain on her borrowed jacket and then, she rants at time for moving on without her, for sanding down the edges of faces she loved, and especially one, and for turning payphones into fossils and promises into museum glass since her every memory argues back, loud, unfinished, aching to be right here, and still, she shouts his name like truth, her truth no artificial intelligence can understand because the girl can't help herself. |
| Prompt: Knights In White Satin By The Moody Blues. Write about this song in your Blog entry today. ----- Such mystery! I can't even imagine a knight in white satin. If I saw one, I'd probably run away from him immediately. So, since I very much like its drooling music but can't force my imagination on it, I think there must be something autobiographical about this song, with deeply personal experiences or emotions tied to it. Off the top of my head, I'm guessing the themes of the song could be longing, love, or loss. (As usual?) The knight might be the songwriter's inner world, or psyche, maybe. I can also sense a feeling of nostalgia for a mythical past that could only exist in the songwriter's mind, referring to an ideal lost world or age where heroes roamed and love was the strongest force in life. Yet, after viewing the lyrics of the song, the reference to Galileo and the stars made me feel confused. Then, I thought, possibly, the referral was to the Renaissance and its humanistic ideals. Such ideals might refer to what is scientific as well as what is mystical. I don't know how this has anything to do with the songwriter's psyche, but each to his own, in this matter. I, therefore, am daring to say that this songwriter had difficult relationship struggles, and he wrote this song as if a confessional. And confessional though it might be, the song's melody soars splendidly and through it, the songwriter's vulnerability and inner world is implied beautifully and suggestively. ---------- Edited to Add: Now this song is playing inside my head and I can't get rid of it!  |
| Prompt: What are some of your favorite Christmas gifts from years best? Write about this in your Blog entry today. -------- Gift wrap, lists, and consumer culture... Yet, aren't we forgetting what Christmas is all about? For me, therefore, from years past, the most meaningful presents did not occupy space in a gift box. It was when people gave me of themselves, things that were (and still are) intangibles such as fun and happy moments, emotions, and gestures that lingered in my heart and memory long after the tree was taken down. Some of those memories have to do with the presence of loved ones over the perfection of anything I can hold in my hands. Those moments are like the heirlooms that stay in memory longer. They mostly have to do with a shared time with a loved one; for example, one of my uncles talking to me at length about poetry on a Christmas Eve, or my grandmother's hug when a spoiled daughter of a neighbor made fun of my outfit, or the person cooking some dish in the kitchen and giving me the first taste of it and asking me if that dish would do for the evening meal before Santa comes. Such gifts still whisper to me that I've mattered. This is because material gifts are static, while experiences are dynamic and are rarely forgotten. They are not broken and discarded or being re-gifted to some unsuspecting soul. On the other hand, non-physical gifts and the smallest thoughtful actions carry the most weight for they have the magic of being memorable and touching. As such, thoughtful gestures such as a handwritten letter, acts of service, maybe an offer to help another person in need, to volunteer together for a shared cause, or starting someone in an art that person might be interested in always offer the gift of growth. They are investments in a person's happiness and future. Better yet, non-physical gifts require no tags, no wrapping, no retail therapy. Plus, they help both the giver and the receiver for they are the most personal and the most likely to be appreciated. After all, the best gifts leave their echoes for a long time after the holidays. Maybe because they don't fill a space. They fill a person's heart. |
| Prompt: “And (I) wondered how anyone could ever imagine unquiet slumbers, for the sleepers in that quiet earth,” says Emily Brontë in Wuthering Heights, What do you think Bronte meant? Does the quote imply something different to you than its obvious meaning? ---------------------------- I have to mull over the meaning of the quote, but I recall it was uttered by the narrator of the novel, after many years since the story took place. Maybe the narrator was really talking about his own sense of final peace after the stormy lives of Catherine, Heathcliff, and others, whose names now escape me. When I first read this novel in my teens, for some weird psychological reason, I fell for Heathcliff. Luckily for me, years later, when I married, my husband was as easy-going and well-adjusted as he could be.As to the meaning of the quote, at first glance, it may refer to the peace in death, after the novel's wild emotional drama. I wonder if there was really peace in there, under the soil, since the villagers saw the ghosts of the story's characters. Yet, Heathcliff and Catherine were buried next to each other, and they are finally united after all that drama. So what about their ghosts? Were they imaginary? Were they restless? All the same, Catherine and Heathcliff's bond was always unbroken since their childhood. It is tempting for me to think that, in this state, they might finally experience the peace and happiness that they missed in life. This could be because, in their new realm, they don't have to deal with family obligations and society's expectations. So they might roam the moors in spirit, discovering the happiness and freedom that was the real basis for their relationship. Then, what about the question of whether peace awaits us all, after death? Can peace and love, in all their forms, transcend even the boundaries of mortality? I certainly hope so. For that reason, I ask, why should peace and love belong to the afterlife only? After all, we can find it in the present, right here on earth, in the beauty and simplicity of our human connections. |
| Prompt: “A bare tree stands with roots on both ends in December days.” Kiran Bantawa What does it mean to have "roots at both ends" to you? ------------- Weird quote, but that is why I chose it. It is because what I don't understand fully, sometimes, opens up to me while I am writing about it. Now, what about the quote? Literally, roots anchor trees to the ground, and also feed them. So the quote may mean that the tree is grounded not only in the soil but also in the air, in other words the earth and the atmosphere. Yet, there may exist a metaphor, in there somewhere. Could it be our dual nature? Maybe it is our past and heritage against the experience of the present time. It may also mean that our roots reach toward the future, the sky. As they say, "The sky's the limit," meaning dreaming for growth, change, and exploring. Then, roots at both ends may mean our lives are not linear. Although here on earth, we see time as being linear, there are some serious scientific and spiritual findings that time is not the way we understand it, and it is not linear. At the same time, the fact that the tree is bare in December adds to the quote's meaning. December is the last month of the year; therefore, it represents an ending, and possibly our vulnerability and exposure to sadness, however with the hope of renewal. After all, our lives are full of paradoxes and complexities, and we stand at the intersection of multiple meanings and dualities. Just like a bare tree stands tall with roots at both ends. This is all I can think of, at the moment about this quote. |
| Prompt: Rest “It is December, and nobody asked if I was ready.” Sarah Kay What are your favorite ways to recharge and rest during the winter or this holiday season? ---------- I think, here in Florida, winter or the holidays are much different than in most other parts of the country. Still, I can recall what it was like in the Northeast, from way back when. It used to be a whirlwind of sorts with parties, gatherings, gift shopping, despite the cold weather and sometimes, snow and ice. At the same time, this had made trying to live my regular everyday life almost impossible, even though I enjoyed the season very much. On the other hand, as far as the frayed nerves go, it isn't much different, here, in the south. The only addition is that we have the lovely half-year residents and visitors escaping from the cold and the ice. This is wonderful in most senses, except the roads become so crowded and the driving so difficult, but it also makes us, the driving elderly group, very careful. On the plus side, since the scorching hot summer sun has mellowed, we have regained our outdoor fun. For example, I can go and relax outside the house, mostly on a comfy outdoor armchair inside the porch, and read, write, tend my plants, or do whatever I wish to do. Since I've grown old, I've set boundaries to my most "should"s, which helps me greatly. No more attending anything if I'm not in the mood or trying to overachieve anything, including housekeeping. Well, maybe just a tad, but that's it. I guess most of what is winter or the holiday season has become not a hustle but an easy time of slowing down for me. After all, there is joy in resting, too, no matter how many bells are jingling. |
| Prompt: Do you make cookies, candy, breads for family and friends during the holidays? If so, what's your favorite to make? If you don't make treats, what's your favorite to receive? ------- I do make treats for the holidays but not to give them as gifts. I offer them to those who come to visit and if they comment or like the treat, they get some of that treat to take home with them. As to the second question, my favorite treats depend on my time and what I have purchased. A few of them are pumpkin-based and others are old-world treats. Then, when it comes to receiving gifts, I don't really have a strict idea, but I appreciate the most something done especially for me, like a poem written for me or a painting or drawing made by the gift-giver. As such, one of the favorite gifts I received was a potholder and a kitchen towel with my name embroidered on them. The beauty of such a gift is in its intimacy and alchemy of surprise. They turn the mundane into the extraordinary, implying that even the smallest details of my life are worth noticing and encouraging. In today's world driven by haste, a thoughtful gift is an act of rebellion. It refuses to settle for showing off but offers intention. It reminds me that the most precious things are not things at all, but moments of understanding, wrapped in tender hope that it might bring a smile to my face. Also, as much as I appreciate all gifts, I feel a little sad when a gift-giver with small means has gone out of his or her way to give me something expensive. I think a gift is a mirror of sorts. It reflects who the gift-giver is as well as how the gift-giver sees the me, the receiver. For that reason alone, the most appreciated gifts show thoughtfulness, not grandeur or riches. And today, just a few minutes ago, a surprise for me! Funny the coincidence, but while writing this entry, I received a lovely package from a friend far away. I stopped writing to unwrap the package. Inside it, is a large pink spiral notebook, a small black spiral notebook, and a set of retractable ball-point pens. This is probably after I told her on the phone I preferred writing long-hand. There is also a note, attached to the notebook with the pink cover that says, "No wonder! Writing long-hand is for the brainy people!" Now, I'm tickled pink all the way to high heaven, in all my idiosyncratic, ordinary complexity! |
| “Oh look, yet another Christmas TV special! How touching to have the meaning of Christmas brought to us by cola, fast food, and beer.... Who'd have ever guessed that product consumption, popular entertainment, and spirituality would mix so harmoniously? ” ― Bill Watterson, Let's talk about product consumption. Are you more likely to buy something based on the advertising seen during the holiday season? ------------ This quote made me laugh. I can't imagine me buying anything after seeing an ad, at any time, let alone during the holiday season. Yet, most people do. For some, this is due to a lack of time and finances, and for others, because, unfortunately they are gullible. Since this is what sellers and manufacturers do, let's first imagine a perfect holiday image, an image that will encourage sales. Mostly, it is an ideal family gathered around perfect meals or exchanging beautifully wrapped gifts, and this is implied to solve every problem under the sun. Even if not said out loud or written openly, the message is, "This purchase will make you complete." or "You will be so loved after giving this gift." Well, if it were to be so, why do stores accept that exchange of gifts after the holiday season? If you go to any store after the holidays, the exchange line is immense. Something to think about, isn't it? Sellers and retailers know the season is emotional and people also get emotional because they are probably being with family members they haven't seen in a year, etc. So they encourage overspending under the guise of saving. Then, afterwards, after the holiday glitter fades, guess who will be sweating over stretched budgets and cluttered homes. Not to mention that something didn't live up to its promise. Yet, most of us still fall for the exaggeration and promised hopes. I'd think anyone with a good head on their shoulders would choose what is real. After all, those false sparkles shouldn't belong under the Christmas tree. If only because the magic of the holidays has nothing to do with material things and false promises. |
| Prompt: What does success mean to you besides money or status? Write about this in your Blog entry today. ---------- Money and status are the loud definitions of success. Anything too loud may not last. Plus, it takes over and drowns all other beautiful sounds. In my case, I like things that last. You don't believe me? Just check out my wardrobe. I have clothes from way back when. Some of those have stayed with me for their memories alone. Memories of ordinary moments. The smiles on my sons' faces. My late husband's green eyes sparkling when he looked at me. The sound of a baby's laughter. Cats meowing. Sunsets, a warm cup of tea, and the company of people I love, living with my own true values and not someone else's. Success especially means that in my life, at times quietly, I stood up for myself, even when it was hard. To me, success also means growth in compassion, wisdom, courage, and progress each day. It means not going after glory or money but trying to do meaningful work, even if my contribution has been very tiny. Above all, success is loving and being loved. I have been quite lucky in this area since my connections have always been genuine and, as their result, I felt blessed for feeling at ease with myself. Yes, I might have goofed here and there, but I feel some peace of mind as to my own behavior in general. What I mean is, success -at the end- can't be seen from the outside and can't be measured by a fattened-up resume. Real success is much deeper and much more meaningful. |
| Prompt: "Know your own happiness. You want nothing but patience or give it a more fascinating name, call it hope." Jane Austen Write about this in your Blog entry today. ---------- What an invitation! Well, if patience is required many of us, starting with yours truly, it would flunk. Yet, happiness or joy is not something distant, mysterious, or waiting in the hands of others. It's always within us. In my case, I'm quite okay until I have to see a doctor. That is when my blood pressure jacks up. Then, it is a spiral, and I'm always told, "Well, your everything checks out well, but why this bp number?" This was so, again, today. I told the doctor that his nurse hurried me down a long corridor and as soon as I sat down, without letting me catch my breath, took my blood pressure. Of course, it was dangerously high. So I told the doctor what happened. He took my blood pressure again and this time it was much lower, although not the low, normal number I get at home. So he added another bp med to my treasury of pills. It isn't my fault if the medical profession doesn't agree with the idea that peace, clarity, and fulfillment doesn't arrive by hurrying people. My body, like life, moves at its own pace. Also, the quote says, “Or give it a more fascinating name, call it hope.” Hope has to have patience. Hope means waiting, possibly in stillness. Hope and patience together keep us grounded and glowing. I don't know how this quote relates to my today's medical adventure, but I still have trust in my doctors and I can still understand why and how the nurses are pushed to their limits. As they say, "All in good faith!" |
| Prompt: “Don’t worry, I’m a doctor. ... Besides, whatever I do to you is okay because I’m a doctor. Trust me. Now, on a scale of one to ten, how painful would you say this is?” Jasun Ether, The Beasts of Success What do you think about doctors? How right are they with treatments and do you think that they may believe they are infallible? ------ Before I write anything, let me say that my grandfather, in whose house I mostly grew up, was a doctor. So was my late husband. I knew their friends and I've noticed how some of those doctors believed in what they were doing and how one of them still cried in big tears over a patient he lost because he had given him a shot not knowing about his allergies and the man died right there in his office, immediately. Now that I'm old and have to see my doctors periodically, without first consulting with my husband anymore, I can look at them from the patients' points of view as well. A patient wants or maybe even needs his doctor to say, "I know what's ailing you, and I know how to fix it." No such thing exists! This is because medicine is an art as well as a science. The weight of responsibility on the doctors is huge. That responsibility can even make them think and say: " I am a doctor. Doctors save lives. Therefore, I must be right and you'd better obey me." While this may be well-intentioned, it also shows a dangerous sense of being godlike. Moreover, society has elevated the doctors to a higher level by trusting them and accepting their word as being absolutely correct. Also, as patients, when we are sick and vulnerable, we crave confidence. Confidence by our doctors, however, can only be a performance. This is because medical training rewards decisiveness over humility. Then, there's that emotional burden. Imagine telling a patient, "I thought this was a routine case, but I was wrong. You have only a few months of life left.” Here, the relationship is not professional anymore. It has become personal. So, now the good news. Medicine has begun to confront itself with peer-review, evidence-based practice, and some disciplinary action within the medical societies. Some doctors, nowadays, even encourage transparency among them. That infallible doctor myth, therefore, is being thrown out the door. And I surely believe that their greatest strength is in their courage to say to a patient, "I was wrong. So let's figure this out together." In fact, doctors are brilliant, most of them dedicated, and some of them have spent at least a couple of decades, if not more, on their education and learning about emergencies and such. They may as well be our modern oracles, but only depending on how far the medical knowledge has evolved and depending on how much they really know about themselves. |
| Prompt: “I have learned all kinds of things from my many mistakes. The one thing I never learn is to stop making them.” Joe Abercrombie What do you think about mistakes? Can they be useful, sometimes? ------------ I remember, way back when in dinosaur time, those red-penned notes on my exam papers when I was in school, and also, my piano teacher's knocking on my hands (gently) with a ruler. I looked at such things, then, as stains on who I was or as if a ghost or a goblin was out to devour me. Still, I attempted to work on my each mistake, as if it showed me as a total failure. To this day, I don't know if I ever exorcised such ghosts and memories from my psyche. Yet, what if a mistake isn't an absence of perfection, but a presence of something else? What if it is the raw material for a better and stronger self? Or a reworked something that could turn out to be a masterpiece? A mistake can lead to a confession. Something like, "I did not know everything. My work was incomplete." It is painful, yes. But what if it leads to a more careful, deliberate repair? What if it leads to a vow to myself to fix the flaw and to do better? Maybe, any well-traveled, safe path has no mistakes. But what if it is also the path of no discovery? Progress in anything can be messy, chaotic, and full of dead ends and accidents. But possibly, such a work can turn into a success. Just read about how the medical discoveries were made. In any case, a mistake says, "Look, here's something you don't understand." So I, instead of hiding the mistake, can use it as if it is an innovation, or if the mistake was in human relationships, I can try not to repeat it. I may fumble an apology or two, while feeling the sting, but deep down, I always know I am human and I share a language of imperfection with other humans. The true beauty of life is not in its perfection but in my courage to mend the pieces. As such, more than anything, my own mistakes should give me the capacity for empathy. After all, who in this world leads an unblemished life! |
| Prompt: “Hope is a waking dream.” Aristotle In what ways is hope related to dreaming? Is there a down side in dreaming too much? ----- To put it in a nutshell, both hopes and dreams are great as long as they are put into action. Otherwise, they end up looking like fake flowers. But what is the relationship between hope and dreaming? Are they relatives? Or are they twin stars born from the same cosmic dust? Or, maybe, they are distant cousins, one offering possibility and the other fantasy. Dreaming, the way I see it, is the theater we go to every night while we sleep. It can be surreal with stories spun from our memories, desires, and wishes, or our unrecognized deepest fears. There is also that daytime dreaming. Personally, I try to avoid that, if my stubborn mind wouldn't get in my way. Giving in too much to daytime dreaming isn't healthy, for this is where many daytime dreams can become snares. For example, if one hasn't touched a brush, how can that person dream of being a successful painter? This kind of dreaming is escape. It is a wish dressed in fantasy. Then, usually, hope comes in to save the day. Hope doesn't need or demand proof. This is because true hope isn't passive. Hope enters after some work or something solid is already there and accomplished. Hope, therefore, forms a bridge between vision and reality. Accordingly, there is some connection between hope and dreaming. also. Dreaming without hope is aimless. Hope without dreaming lacks imagination. Yet, if they could work together, they could become the first steps toward success. And for us writers, dreams without action are poems and novels untold. On the other hand, hope, after putting down a few ideas or maybe an outline, is the way to the first line of a story to be written. |
| Prompt: "Christmas, children, is not a date. It is a state of mind" and "The best and most beautiful things in the world cannot be seen or even touched—they are felt with the heart". The quote "Christmas, children, is not a date. It is a state of mind" was written by American educator and author Mary Ellen Chase, while the second part, "The best and most beautiful things in the world cannot be seen or even touched—they are felt with the heart," is famously by Helen Keller. These are two separate, beloved quotes often shared around the holidays. Do you feel Christmas is a state of mind or has it fallen prey to commercialism? What do you think is the most beautiful thing in the world that can't be seen or touched? ----------- Just about everything has fallen to commercialism, Christmas among them. Yes, most holidays and relationships are a state of mind, in the first place. To me, there isn't any one most beautiful thing that can't be seen or touched, but many. They hide behind our five senses and are more profound, enduring, and vital to us. To begin with, there is love. It has no form, no hue, no texture. Yet, it can reshape worlds and people. It is what attaches parent to child, friend to friend, humanity to itself. It's the unsaid, silent understanding. It could be the gentle forgiveness. It could be a fierce protection of a loved one. Then, there is joy, (Not me! ) as a burst of pure happiness, sometimes the result of love. It has a lightness of spirit that dances through us, with warmth, as if a soundless laughter. In addition, what about hope and other virtues? Hope whispers and heals us with a strong belief in a better tomorrow or with the words, "This, too, shall pass!" Its beauty isn't in what hope is but what hope does. Also, there is kindness that shows up arm in arm with charity, creating much good in our lives. Then comes my favorite, which I--at times--lack, courage. Courage is not a shield or weapon, but the strength to face fear, speak the truth, and defend what is right. Furthermore, there is that quiet sanctuary within us, the true peace. Not as an absence of conflict but, speaking for myself, an inner hush when my mind and spirit can get along well, and give me a quiet refuge inside. I can almost argue that these unseen and untouchable beauties are more real than what we experience everyday through our sight and hearing. This is because we can only be aware of them through our souls, not our five senses. When we can do that, we may find that they are more real and fundamental. If only we could look and feel, not only with our five senses, but also with our hearts and souls! |
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