Showing posts with label insight. Show all posts
Showing posts with label insight. Show all posts

Friday, November 20, 2015

Epiphany

Pss. 109:15 “Let them be before the LORD continually, that he may cut off the memory of them from the earth.”

An Epiphany

It has been an interesting ride into an epiphany or intuitive insight into the essential meaning of something. In this case, I know why I’m here in Nebraska!

As a kid growing up, my mother and I were the best of friends. We share a birthday so I was considered special from day one AND the fact that that I was the baby helped that position along.

Living in the city without a car left us shopping in the locality best known to unknowns as Light Street. No seriously, that was and still is the name of the street lined with shops and stores. As we would walk past the glass lined buildings with the picture window shops and apparel, my mother would always reminisce of what that store was many years ago; it was a quite nostalgic trip on weekends for my mother and I.

We’d often go into Epsteins, (locals pronounced it Ep-stines while non-locals called it Ep-steens). Epsteins was like an old day version (only smaller) of WalMart. They sold everything from clothes to curtains, carpets to furniture, vacuums to hardware; Epsteins was the weekend hubbub of Light Street. We’d pass jewelry stores, a fish store that sold bunnies in their front window, the more expensive clothes stores for men, shoe stores, cafĂ©’s and diners.

We’d often (and I do mean often) go to George’s Lunch where they had orange padded booths and a few tables lining one side of the wall and the streaming aroma of the grilled onions and Coney Island hamburgers, steamers for buns and hot dogs along with fresh baked pies where slices sat perched in front of a mirrored shelf! Their specialty was a rice pudding with a cream on top with a dash of cinnamon that I would get every single visit!

I loved the old time look of the place with the individual spinning stools that separated the cooking being done, the waitresses and the small aisle where the booths sat always filled with hungry patrons. Often we’d have to wait for a seat because the place was the highlight of Light Street and everyone just loved the food.

In the summer months, I would always meet my mother for lunch and George’s is often where we’d dine. Sometimes we’d head to Polock Johnny’s or The White Coffee Pot but there we were off doing stuff together.

My sister and brothers resented my closeness with my mother always claiming that she gave me everything. I won’t deny it, she DID! She gave me anything and EVERYTHING I ever wanted. BUT, to clarify, I did everything FOR my mother. Whether it was cleaning, cooking, washing dishes, painting or hanging wallpaper, I was an actual participant not an observer feeling neglected like the rest of my siblings.

The way I see it, it went both ways. She didn’t give me everything because I asked for it, she gave everything to me as an appreciative act for all I did for her. There IS a difference.

As years would pass I was now dragging my (ex) husband into the mix and had him doing all sorts of handyman work for my mother and father. I lived next door to my mother in my grandfather’s rental house for thirteen years. When the rental house was sold, my parents sold THEIR house to move right around the corner from where I had moved.

They just wanted to be close to me and near to my son. I surely didn’t mind because they were basically my best friends at this point. We continued with taking mother shopping on weekends, I always cleaned her house, and she was always giving me soup, spaghetti and whatnot.

I was close to my siblings too, helping my sister out with her six kids; when she went away I would clean her house spic-n-span! My brother would invite me to his house, much to the chagrin of my sister who was now HIS neighbor.

My sister and brothers all longed for the relationship I had with my parents but none of them were willing to put any effort into the rapport. No, they just wanted my parents to show THEM attention but as always, I was the only one who received the attention they longed for.

Then I left Baltimore and all of my family behind. Quite suddenly I might add. A two-week notice and I was well on my way to happiness. My sister invited Steven and I to dinner the night before we left for Texas and she invited my brothers but no one showed up. My mother and father did!

With me gone, they could have my parents all to themselves but no, that wasn’t the case. Weeks would pass before my sister ever called my mother and often it was my father who called and told HER to call my mother sometime. The only time they showed ANY attention to my parents was when my mother would tell them over and over again how “Joni calls me every night and twice a day on weekends!” It irked them into caring!

Back to the epiphany I began with, the why I am here and not there? It was not meant for me to be there. My siblings had to step up and actually DO something for my mother and father. When my father was in the hospital I literally had to goad my one brother into going to see my dad before he died.

Had I been back there, they might have seen too much love for me and not enough attention focused on them, they needed that. My sister is now calling my mother every day, taking her out of the house, inviting her to dinner, taking her to the doctor, you name it; my sister is now sitting at a diner (not the same one that me and mother frequented) and is now being given the attention that she needed all those years; the attention that both of them needed.

My brothers are paying attention, my sister is paying attention and it sure is sad that it took my father to die for them to notice that time on this earth is not guaranteed it is precious! With me out of the way, they can now focus on what needs to be done and that is to give my mother the attention she so richly deserves!


Pss. 145:7 “They shall abundantly utter the memory of thy great goodness, and shall sing of thy righteousness.”

Wednesday, January 18, 2012

The Confident Writer

You don't have to be great to get started, but you have to get started to be great.
Les Brown
***

I have noticed that a lot of newcomers come into the writing world lacking confidence. I don’t know if its their age, immaturity, low self esteem, or lack of confidence in their writing ability, but these folks need to learn from the ground up. Their first step is to join a writing community. This is where they take that first baby-step.

I’ve watched many join a writing community that are well versed, well spoken and darn good writers, still they lack the confidence needed to get them to the next level, and that is, publication! So they meander around the writing site, setting their writing free to the writing community, and get accolades on their writing and in essence get their confidence built up!

Now with the ‘newbies’ they call them, they are testing the water, dipping a toe in, seeing if it is warm enough to go swimming with the, I’ll call them ‘oldies’. The oldies are going to show the newbies the ropes and hopefully lead them in the right direction with their writing. Now some oldies are just as unprofessional and unconfident, so I think that is giving the newbs false leadership because then when the newbs decide the water IS nice warm and safe, they find they’ve jumped into shark infested waters that the oldies never warned them of at all!

Confidence is opening a vein. Have you ever walked into a crowded room, all eyes were on you, and your stomach started churning and gurgling? You stood there with beads of sweat starting to form on your brow and the palms of your hands were sweaty? That is your lack of confidence rearing it’s ugly head trying to get you to bolt right out the door. But in your confidence, you stand and walk through the throngs of people with a gentle smile, and you look at the people, straight in the eyes, and make your way to the buffet table!

A confident writer is one who has written a tale, has read the story and maybe even revised it, walks into his classroom and delivers one of the most outstanding short stories the people have ever read. They attack the grammar, fix a few sentences, tear apart your spellbinding work and you, you walk away from the buffet table feeling full as if you have eaten the entire table. Your peers liked your work so much, they felt it worthy to straighten a few things out with you. The confident writer goes back to the table, takes all of their advice, reshapes, re-forms the tale and brings it back to the classroom shiny and new.

They love it! Now the confident writer seeks a market for the story. Searches and searches until they have found a home for it, and when (not if) it gets published, you go back to your peers and they all let out a roaring clap and congratulate you.

Now the not-so-confident writer fears even pulling her/his work out for everyone to see. They’re the ones who either bolt out the door as soon as the eyes are upon them. Or they walk slowly to the buffet table, head lowered, never seeking eye contact with one individual. They eat (read others work), they nibble (give a little feedback) they mingle (befriend and enjoy the camaraderie), and soon, after seeing that the people are all just like him/her/them, the confidence starts to build and slowly but surely, they are sharing their work.

Whether good or bad, you will never ever get an ounce of confidence if you don’t walk in the door, and take a big old chomp out of what scares you the most! With fear you will always remain a newbie in a world of popular confident people.

My entire point here is this: Share your writing with confidence! Or you will remain a fearful newbie writer for a good long time!

Sunday, October 24, 2010

Poetry Sunday~ Negative Capability

Gen. 45: 7 And God sent me before you to preserve you a posterity in the earth, and to save your lives by a great deliverance.
***
Negative Capability
***
Into a raging sea I ride,
all my will I freely hide
take me now upon the wave.
toss me out for all I gave.

Life is crying out in pain
my mind is rolling with the rain
I hear the voices calling within
A dormant battle I never win.

Hold my hand while I cry
don’t let me be the one to die.
Free me from this angry soul
Set me high where I can stroll.

There He is, not far away
calling me into a new day.
My hand in His, our hearts are one
the battle is free, I feel I’ve won.

Lift me higher into the place
where I can see His adoring face.
I will accept the Master’s plan
trust in Him and not in man.
***


author’s note:
On December 21, 1817, the poet John Keats  wrote a letter to his brother in which he expressed and named a quality of human existence that is tricky to articulate. Keat’s formulation has been adopted by philosophers, poets, and others ever since.
Roughly, the idea is our ability to simultaneously acknowledge the unpredictable nature of events and conduct ourselves with confidence and happiness. He called this familiar yet complex concept negative capability

Saturday, August 14, 2010

Quotation Saturday

ON WRITING

"The ability to "fantasize" is the ability to survive. It's wonderful to speak about this subject because there have been so many wrong-headed people dealing with it.... The so-called realists are trying to drive us insane, and I refuse to be driven insane.... We survive by fantasizing. Take that away from us and the whole damned human race goes down the
drain."
- Ray Bradbury

"Don't think. Thinking is the enemy of creativity. It's self-conscious and anything self-conscious is lousy. You can't try to do things. You simply must do things."
- Ray Bradbury

"Love. Fall in love and stay in love. Write only what you love, and love what you write. The word is love. You have to get up in the morning and write something you love, something to live for."
- Ray Bradbury

ACTION

“Achievement seems to be connected with action. Successful men and women keep moving. They make mistakes, but they don’t quit.”
 - Conrad Hilton

“An ounce of practice is worth more than tons of preaching.”
- Mohandas Ghandi

“Inspirations never go in for long engagements; they demand immediate marriage to action.”
- Brendan Francis

YOU ARE UNIQUE

“There is a time in every man's education when he arrives at the conviction that envy is ignorance; that imitation is suicide; that he must take himself for better, for worse, as his portion; that though the wide universe is full of good, no kernel of nourishing corn can come to him but through his toil bestowed on that plot of ground which is given to him to till.”
- Ralph Waldo Emerson

“The greatest good you can do for another is not just share your riches, but reveal to them their own.”
- Benjamin Disraeli

“You were born rich with 18 billion bountiful, beautiful, totally available and in all probability under-used brain cells awaiting your desire, decision and directional compass to take you onward, upward, goodward and Godward.”
- Mark Victor Hansen

Saturday, September 06, 2008

Quotation Saturday


Through every cloud that shields the light, there is a brilliant ray of sunshine waiting to touch you. ~joni
***
All good poetry is the spontaneous overflow of powerful feelings: it takes its origin from emotion recollected in tranquility.
~William Wordsworth

Poetry heals the wounds inflicted by reason.
~Novalis


There’s a difference between writing for a living and writing for life. If you write for a living, you make enormous compromises, and you might not even be able to uncompromise yourself. If you write for life, you’ll work hard; you’ll do what’s honest, not what pays.
~Toni Morrison

We are cups, constantly and quietly being filled. The trick is, knowing how to tip ourselves over and let the beautiful stuff out.
~Ray Bradbury

"By far the greatest thing is to be a master of metaphor.It is the one thing that cannot be learned from others.It is a sign of genius, for a good metaphor implies an intuitive perception of similarity among dissimilars."
~Aristotle

What I like in a good author is not what he says, but what he whispers.
~Logan Pearsall Smith, "All Trivia," Afterthoughts, 1931

The difference between the right word and the almost right word is the difference between lightning and a lightning bug.
~Mark Twain

Sunday, August 03, 2008

Poetry Sunday



The Revenge of the Sea



I set ‘asail a calming sea

it called to me one day.

I went to find a peace within

I knew would come my way.



I mellowed on the deck below

my tiny boat was swaying.

My mind was playing tricks on me

with thoughts that I was weighing.



The blackened sky whispered sounds,

a rumbling from afar

It sounded as if God Himself

had left the door ajar.



I rushed up top just in time

to see the clouds were rippling.

The thrashing of the eager waves

made guidance very crippling.



The squall was just above me now;

clouds seemed to descend

upon this tiny boat of mine,

On which I now depend.



Droplets of rain grazed my face

I began to sense a peace.

For in this shroud of turmoil.

The sea's revenge will cease.



A glimpse of golden streams I see.

A beacon to hold my stare.

All at once I realized,

The storm was never there.



Copyright © joni zipp