Right Speech Draft One

Who determines the rightness of speech--
Speaker yoked to responsibility,
Or receiver burdened with culpability ?
Be honest with yourself: rightness boils down to purpose-
Know your audience.
Choose verbiage to open dialogue.
Respectful discourse does not mean approval of opposition,
If you know your purpose, you will find right speech.

To humiliate takes little effort-
Unleash cruel and heartless.
To romance requires some thought,
Combine gentle and seductive.
To persuade demands fact:
Balance righteousness with civility.
To garner respect for your viewpoint,
Open your mouth with admirable purpose and intent.

Seeing rightness at your side
does not equate to right speech.
Have your facts.
Build your argument.
Know your mind.
But above all, know your purpose.
Therein lies all the choice.
All the responsibility.
All the possibility.
If you want my respect,
Toss the hostility,
Examine the situation objectively.
Choose words according to purpose.

When you find them, may I borrow some?
Because this shit is hard.

Getting It Done

Ever have those days where you feel unstoppable? You just keep checking stuff off that incredibly long list of to-get-done-today until you realize there is nothing left on the list? I had one of those days yesterday.
I had to do two hours of essays, some chores around here, taxes *groan, and even a bit of fun stuff.
I absolutely love to-get-done lists. They make me feel so accomplished. It's ridiculous I know, but just crossing something as small as "check library status for book club selection" fills me with a gleeful thrill.

library.osu.edu

My preferred method of spending free time. Yes, reading goes on my to-get-done list every weekend.

I like to begin with the chores. I find it far easier to get through with all other stuff on my list if my house is in order. It also helps pass the time while coffee brews if I have dishes to do or laundry to sort.

lorneandmickyour-loma.blogspot.com

Slay the dishwasher monster first. Then appease the coffee monster. It's a natural progression.

My favorite part though was making some jewelry. A few weeks ago, my niece asked me to lengthen a charm bracelet for her. It was about 1/2 an inch too short, so I said yes. I measured her wrist, measured the bracelet, and proceeded to go get my haircut after which I went bead shopping. When I got home though, the bracelet was not on the table where I left it. I checked my pockets just to see if I inadvertently slipped it into one of them. Nope. I looked on the floor thinking perhaps a feline had turned the bracelet into a toy. Nope. I called my stylist to see if I had dropped it in the salon. Nope. I checked my truck to see if it had dropped in the cab somewhere. Nope. 

tacoshack27.deviantart.com

Total fail as an aunt. I'm still thinking felines were involved, but heck if I know what they did with that bracelet.

I also made a pin for a friend at work who has been very supportive of me. We've known one another since playground days and I love her mix of feisty with a splash of compassion personality. I think showing gratitude is really important especially when a friend puts herself out there for you.

cherrybam.com

Sometimes force is required.

Anyway, after ample swearing at the damned crimp beads, my jewelry endeavors resulted in these:

Hopefully my niece will accept the charm bracelet as my undying remorse for having lost the original and my colleague will appreciate the funky myth pin. 

I even cleaned up my jewelry  making mess when I was done. As I said, unstoppable I was.

hollyhierman.com

Beads and Wires Bring the Funky Magic

My sister's birthday is coming soon. I have some fun socks for her per our tradition of exchanging odd footwear. However, I felt I needed something more. Consequently, I broke out the beads and wires from the hall closet where they've been stashed since summer time and viola! I create funky wearable art. The bead just above the halfway point says "peace." 

I haven't made jewelry in a while, mainly because I have been scheduled within an inch of my existence with too many jobs. Today though, I worked my two hours on essays, cleaned the house, finished a book and started another when the old creative mind started plotting a necklace. Originally, it was going to be purple, but I realized I lacked the purple beads I thought I had. My sister probably has plenty of purple jewelry from me anyway, so turquoise is a strong alternative both in terms of available supplies and my knowledge of her wardrobe tastes.

Perhaps having a more relaxed schedule and state of mind is good for the creative energies. It felt good to have an impulse to create as well as have the time to devote to such endeavors. I hope she likes it.

Moment of Gratitude

Last night I returned to the local Greek restaurant for my first performance since The Jackass Incident. We had the absolute best upbeat song set and we had the just-for-sassy fun-gypsy skirts. Add to that some of the cutest kids and the fellow dancers in the audience, the house was packed.
The set list was less than 21 minutes, but it had three of my all time favorite songs and three totally new to me songs. I also was wearing my teacher's skirt since my big skirt does not go with any of my bedlah sets. It was a little less length than I am used to, but it looked great with my green set.
Between the music, the prop, and the crowd, last night felt absolutely wonderful. It was playful, joyful, and rewarding to get out there and just have fun doing what I absolutely love. At one point, a toddler from one of the hallway tables followed me into one of the other rooms. He had been closely watching me dance and even hopped off mom's lap to hand me one of the tips that had fallen from my hip belt. He was precious. I did a spin into the blue room and saw his mom running at me. Then I noticed he was right there in front of me. Stealthy little fan he was. Anyway, he was adorable.
In the blue room, the Greeks had come to dinner. They are always quite vocal during performance, which is allowed because quiet belly dance audiences are actually uncommon. Well, the one lady who always gives me pointers shouted at me, "Just wait until you have arthritis. You won't be moving like that then!" I laughed, but in my head I thought, "Well, I have lupus, fibromyalgia, and Sjogren's syndrome and I still move like this. Ha!"
Profound realization at how very lucky I am that my body still wants to play from time to time. The freedom, the fun, the fatigue: all totally worth it. To create what I feel to be my closest brush with beauty in this lifetime provides me with the most sublime contentment.

Problem Solved

Earth's salt, dissolve in water,
Combine.
Fire's light, spark the air,
Release.

Inhabitants alive and dormant in the northern realm,
All those of the element earth.
In my circle as in life, I welcome stability and nourishment.
(light candle of the north)

Inhabitants alive and dormant in the eastern realm,
All those of the element air.
In my circle as in life, I welcome creativity and intellect.
(light candle of the east)

Inhabitants alive and dormant in the southern realm,
All those of the element fire.
In my circle as in life, I welcome strength and passion.
(light candle of the south)

Inhabitants alive and dormant in the western realm,
All those of the element water.
In my circle as in life, I welcome intuition and love.
(light candle of the west)

Sun and moon,
beautiful celestial wonders:
Life giver,
rest provider,
join your equal forces with me here this night.

Celebration of the Moon

Glowing lunar lantern,
silvery, feminine, soft.
Your presence affects us all.
Pock-marked, cold, perfect,
subject of myth, fantasy, and study.
You provide balance to the fiery sun,
and thus provide balance to my life.
I marvel at the moon,
I revel in the moon,
I frivol by the moon.

The Naming of Deities

I've been grappling with writing my own full moon ritual, and I cannot seem to satisfy the calling of the quarters and the deities. This is part of my whole examination of spirituality that crops up every once in a while. I feel connected during ritual practice, and it keeps me grounded in the rest of my life. However, I really don't believe in gods or goddesses per se. I really don't believe in one great creator or even a few great creators, but I still want the ritual for what it provides. How do I call them to circle without all the connotation of the typical terminology that I do not accept? This poem is the brain jam stream-o-consciousness ramblings as I ruminated tonight.

The Naming of Deities

By what name do I call you?

God simply does not fit,

for I cannot muster the belief within me-

to offset the doubt that name implies.

So what name do I call you?

Goddess is not right either.

In my mind, you are not female alone-

therefore my quandary to suggest gender.

How can I wrap up that sense of knowledge,

that sense of humility before the expanse of the cosmos,

that sense of acceptance that I do not know everything-

into one word or phrase?

Earth vibrates with life,

an intricate web of biology and chemistry,

of love and hate,

of peace and war.

What name do I call you?

Power lacks empathy;

I will have none of that hierarchy thank you.

I suppose that eliminates Lord and Lady, too.

I am a part of this corporeal existence.

I am a part of this community of life.

Whatever I call you, I am a part of you,

and you are a part of me.

I suppose I shall wait to just know it when I know it.

God I hate waiting.

Refridgerators

www.greatfallstribune.com

I had some fun today. An activity of my day included the Monte Dolack print up above. My sister had this print in her room growing up and it made us laugh a lot to think about the penguins raiding the fridge. Today's activity asked people to observe the pic first. Then write about what they thought was happening and share out after the writing. Next up came a task to write a brief synopsis of a story based on the pic. Since I was doing this 5 times today, I opted to make my own self-assignment: a progressive story I would add to each time a new group did the synopsis. This is what happens when I consider a print from my childhood and write about it for 10 minutes every hour. All told, maybe an hour's creative writing. 

The tall one said, “We can take care of ourselves. Just because the humans abandoned us doesn’t mean we have to starve. If we can get inside The Hub, then we can forage for some food.”

The leader of the Antarctica clan inquired, “That’s great, Max, but how do we get inside? No thumbs.”

“Not a problem. The red headed human always pushed that button. If we can push that, then we can get inside.”

All of them stopped and looked upward at the circular metal object that meant their survival.

“Or you could just ask for help,” commented a voice from behind the gaggle of penguins. Max turned to see spots. Large, irregular brown spots on amber fur. Moussa, the giraffe, slowly munched on the twigs of a nearby tree as his remark sank in. “If you happen to locate some lettuce, Romaine preferably, would you mind tossing it out here if I were to say, push that button for you?”

“I think that could be arranged,” replied Max. The others nodded their agreement. “Much obliged, Moussa, but I thought the giraffes left days ago.”

“We did, but these trees are delicious. We had to come back.”

“I see,” nodded Max. The tall penguin gestured for the others to move out of Moussa’s way. The gentle giraffe gracefully lowered his head and bumped the disc. Slowly, the door opened.

“Hal, wedge that rock underneath to keep the door from closing. Thanks again, Moussa. Our first job is to find the refrigerator and some lettuce for you.” Moussa languidly stretched his neck to snag more twigs. His jaws grinding back and forth as he watched the penguins waddle one by one into zoo’s visitor’s center.

Once inside, Max appointed teams. The Antarctic clan went to the right. The sect from New Zealand went to the left. Max took those bred in captivity as well as the little ones forward down the main hall. “All right, fan out. When you find the kitchen, whistle and the rest of us will make our way to you.”

The Antarctic brood did not like the way the knotty and knobby floor felt on their feet. Icebergs and snow they could handle, but this oddly irregular and scruffy surface irritated their toes as they explored. Glancing side to side only revealed large, plush bluffs. No kitchen, but the fuzzy pink bergs in the back of the room looked like fun.

The New Zealand penguins proceeded down a tiled hallway. Unfortunately, all the doors were closed. Four in all, the doors all had knobs, not levers. Unless some monkeys made their way to The Hub, the penguins would not be able to figure out what the rooms contained. Most of the rooms were offices and one, the red headed human’s, had a box of energy bars in the lower right-hand desk drawer. Another time that prize might be discovered. Not now though.

A shrill whistle peeled through the air. One of them had found the kitchen!

"Quick everyone. Head this way!" One of the baby penguins toddled as fast as his little penguin feet would carry him as called for everyone to follow him.

Soon they all gathered in the kitchen. The light was still on, but the fridge was closed. Max took action.

"Antarctic penguins: find me a long stick like a yard stick or a broom and bring it here." Since the Antarctic ones were stronger and bigger, they got the job. All the rest could do was wait. They didn't have to wait long before the Antarctic clan returned with a long-handled push broom being pushed by their low to the ground bellies.

"Good work. Now, you there." One of the New Zealand penguins who managed to hop up a nearby footstool and on to the counter turned to acknowledge Max. "Call to Moussa."

Moussa nonchalantly approached the open window where a smaller, but not too small New Zealand penguin was hopping up and down excitedly." Moussa stuck his head in the window. "What is it, Max?"

"We found the ridge, but can you take this broom in your teeth and work it into the handle there?"

"Sure."

"Penguins, fall in!"

The penguins all formed a line from smallest to largest. "Get your flippers under that broom, and lift New Zealanders. Ok, Antarctic and captive ones, walk that broom up so Moussa can grab hold."

Once Moussa had the broom, the penguins waited anxiously  as he threaded the handle through the fridge's handle. He gave the broom bristles a firm nudge and the fridge swung open.

"Ok Pete, do you see some lettuce for Moussa?"

"Got it right here," said the African penguin as he dragged out a bag of lettuce from the crisper using his beak to pull the half eaten head of Romaine.

" Oh good! It's Romaine," reveled Moussa as he bent his head down. The tall one helped Pete push the lettuce up so Moussa's exceptionally long tongue could wrap around the treat and enjoy the morsel.

"All right guys, our turn. Help yourselves. Plenty for everyone," said Max.

Pete, Max's bred in captivity captain, questioned, "That's enough for now, but what about tomorrow?"

"That's a worry for tomorrow, Pete. For now, fill your belly and we'll figure out tomorrow, tomorrow."