Saturday, October 22, 2016
I seem to feel the pull of Earth's gravity more than ever lately. It's stronger on days when I just give in because I'm too tired to fight against it. Such lapses do not last long because the heavy load is too much of a burden. There's no cushion between this mortal flesh and Mother Earth during those infrequent lapses, but the pull is so strong thoughts of death brush across my brain, reminding me of the seductively dangerous nuclear stress test that absorbs your very soul's attention as the technician loosens the life altering chemicals that gradually slows the body's functions as it simulates true Death. The weight of the world slowly-slowly-slowly sinks onto your chest--too enraptured by the sensations and sounds of your heart falling asleep, you don't panic--you don't even care--you are caught up in the seamless beauty of it all. It arrests and harnesses your attention. Death has its own allure . . . Still and all? Life trumps Death.
So still I rise. I rise like a plant reaches for the sun through the cold dark soil. I rise. I rise over adversity, pain, soul-wrenching disappointment, illnesses, and dark emotions. I rise. I pause, hesitate, rest . . . yet still I rise.
Still I Rise
You may write me down in history With your bitter, twisted lies, You may trod me in the very dirt But still, like dust, I’ll rise. Does my sassiness upset you? Why are you beset with gloom? ‘Cause I walk like I’ve got oil wells Pumping in my living room? Just like moons and like suns, With the certainty of tides, Just like hopes springing high, Still I’ll rise. Did you want to see me broken? Bowed head and lowered eyes? Shoulders falling down like teardrops, Weakened by my soulful cries? Does my haughtiness offend you? Don’t you take it awful hard ‘Cause I laugh like I’ve got gold mines Diggin’ in my own backyard. You may shoot me with your words, You may cut me with your eyes, You may kill me with your hatefulness, But still, like air, I’ll rise. Does my sexiness upset you? Does it come as a surprise That I dance like I’ve got diamonds At the meeting of my thighs? Out of the huts of history’s shame I rise Up from a past that’s rooted in pain I rise I’m a black ocean, leaping and wide, Welling and swelling I bear in the tide. Leaving behind nights of terror and fear I rise Into a daybreak that’s wondrously clear I rise Bringing the gifts that my ancestors gave, I am the dream and the hope of the slave. I rise I rise I rise.
Friday, October 14, 2016
Wednesday, October 5, 2016
Its beginning to feel a lot like two months before Christmas! I'm making my lists, checking them twice. Then lo! And behold! What a nice surprise! Someone thought of me. I do like James Avery's clever-cleverness. Tis true that the best envelopes have gifts inside! Hint. Hint? You don't have to tell me twice!
Double the pleasure. Double the fun with another clever tease 'neath the interesting flap. The very best envelopes have gifts and love notes. For real! My eye and ears are tuned in to the tinkling silver tones of the Christmas bell. What's a charm bracelet without tinkly sounds?
While I enjoy giving I still manage to get a kick out of buying an occasional gift just for me. It has to be something no one else will think of, or it has to be something I've waited for long enough to justify the act of self-giving. Knowing someone else thinks you're worth giving to, well, it makes you smile. Pretty on the outside often signals something pretty is going on inside. And the more I give the more I receive, and the prettier I act. All my smiles and hellos, my how-are-you, let-me -treat-this-time, and all the thinking of you moments come back ten-fold. One of my favorite booksellers asked why she hadn't seen me in awhile. Instead of lying I told her the truth. She said she'd missed me. Being missed is nice. It's a special, sweet, touching, make-me-cry gift all on its own. Perhaps James Avery misses me too. It's been awhile.
I'm pretty sure I won't be sharing my choice after a # but I might show it off here. I do like a new tinkle on my wrist.
. . . to be continued.
Tuesday, October 4, 2016
Now that flu and allergy season is upon us you can bet your bottom dollar Kleenex's revenues are up. And if you're like me, you buy those cute little packets of tissues because a runny nose needs all the cuteness it can stand; we won't go into sneezes, watery eyes, and the other symptoms because they're tacit. Yes, the big boxes are for bedside, kitchen and bathroom counters and the like, but who carries one around crammed into their Dooney & Bourke? Would you use old fashioned hankies if you could? I would except I'm not sure I want to walk around with slimy wet handkerchiefs in my bag or pockets. They'd cut down on waste and save millions of trees . . . but that's not what this is about.
Unfolded, the packet is roughly 4 1/2 x 6 1/2 so they meet the UPSP standards. I've gotten and mailed notecards that were smaller. Use clear tape for applying labels and make sure your stamps stick. You might use a good eraser to roughen the surface before pressing your stamps on. A little burnishing helps. Glue is a no-no. Take extra care with washi tape too.
If you're like me and want to play it safe with bar codes, place your address label on back. That way you'll cover the small print and the bar code, plus you'll have a prettier front for your recipient. You'll also inadvertently give Kleenex a little nod as payment for some free recyclable mail goodness. Personally, I wish they'd just use a sturdy stock.
So, you know I had to send one to my bestie, Patty, seeing as how she taught me most of what I know about mail art and recycling used mail. I included a Kleenex packet for her to play around with; it's one of my prettiest. And guess what! She did me one better.
See the lovely fall colors?
She matched them and included goodies in pockets! She learned to fold the booklets from a Pamela Gerard . . . Well, you can read for yourself. Sorry.
Here's a better shot of the inside pockets. There's room for lots of fun stuff and there's a little adhesive on the flap to keep the packet closed. You'll have to reinforce the outer edges to keep the postal snoops from reading your message. As if they would. (wink)
So, if allergy and flu season comes calling, and I hope you are immune to it all, instead of pretending you're not at home, do what nine out of ten doctors recommend . . . Write out the season!
Crawl into bed with your favorite magazines, those empty Kleenex packets you saved, a glue stick, some tape, a pair of scissors, goodies galore, a pen, at least one or two sheets of sweet stationery, and stamps, and let your imagination off its leash! Wait until you see the one I'm working!