Wednesday, September 14, 2011

The Broken & Forgotten

Inspiration is a very enchanting element of life and a necessity in mine.  It breezes through my being as my legs take off in the morning hours and allures me during the quiet evenings as I gaze into the heavens.  It makes an ethereal scene as I climb the highest mountain and hushes me like a baby's lullaby as I give attention to an elegant array of notes that weave together in a symphony of song. The delicate patter of rain on my windows romanticises my thoughts and beckons me to a shelf that is home to my favorite writings.  And then there is the magic that fills me with raw emotion when I take in the sight of a mesmeric vision of art.  Something magnificent made by the hands of another.  There is almost nothing I love more than walking through room after quiet room, filled with these seemingly unearthly pieces.  There have been times when I have been silenced in reverent respect as I stare at an image that I am certain must have been designed by immortal hands.  I imagine its beginnings as just a simple, clean and crisp white canvas.  I wonder what moves the hand that mirrored it, taking up the wooden stem and dipping the soft bristles in to rich color to create a dreamy landscape that intoxicates me.  My mind can't help but wonder if the emotion that inspires most artists is that of love.  Whatever kind of love it is, I believe it is what inspirits most people to do what they do.  Love is the most powerful and provoking emotion one can have.

I have a very talented friend who recently revealed his masterpieces on the glorious world wide web of boundless information.  As I gazed upon each one, I felt a glimpse of what must have inspired him to take notice and capture the organic beauty he saw.  Graceful arches and masculine lines magically bent together to create the perfect landscape against the elements that haloed above, illuminating heavenly hues of blue and gold.  Colorful and dancing images of city life entertained me, click after pink-painted click.  Arrays of animation opened my steel blues as wide as wide can be!  Metal and glass captured many moments of my time as I found myself intrigued by the intelligent minds behind the manufactured models.  My eyes played blissfully with patterned floors and bubbled glass.  A crescendo ending was my forecast but then the images changed from majestic, man-made creations to something that completely contrasted my previous views.  My heart swelled heavy with emotion as I looked upon something that quieted my imagination, softly speaking to my soul.  The broken and forgotten.  These were my favorites.  Abandoned buildings and blown over signs.  Fragments of cement among neglected desert brush.  And last, but never least, a single tree with limbs that looked saddened by the lack of a little boy in a tiny red jumper, drawn up over an apple green tee who once paid him a daily visit.  PS- Every tree is a Giving Tree...

We all receive and discover daily doses of inspiration differently.  What one sees as wonderful and amazing, another might look right past.  The day I clicked on these images, I had my very own Slumdog moment and remembered something I had forgotten but has been imbedded in me since my youth.  That something is too personal to reveal...even for an unabashed (although sometimes shy in person) soul like me, but I am thankful for my friend's talent that lent me those few sacred moments that made a significant impression on me that day.

I have no idea if my dear friend behind the lens is a spiritual or religious man.   But this much I can say.  Whether he recognizes this or not, he has a very Christlike eye.  Anyone who can see and capture the beauty in the broken and forgotten must have one.  It is a gift that I admire most in a others.  It is a sign of humility and pure kindness.  I am thankful for the inspiration that I have gained from the artwork he displays.  It also reminded me of the One who's life has inspired me to look for opportunities to offer an unforgetful eye to the broken.  I invite you to visit my friend, B Lawrence Lowe's work and fall in love with it as I have.  And don't forget to look for my favorites, the Broken but never Forgotten. 

Click like, please invite, and do, do, do share to your heart's content!

Obviously this dedicated to my friend, B Lawrence Lowe and his brilliant talent displayed on Las Vegas Boulevard.


Monday, September 12, 2011

A Little Too Much...

My recorded by my sweet baby Bella and put to my very favorite song.  Turn up the volume... 

Saturday, September 10, 2011

It Takes A Village

I agree with and understand the meaning behind the phrase "it Takes a village to raise a child".  I appreciate wHen genuinely concerned adults offer me Information about my children.  After all, I can not be everywhere all the time.  I rely on other Sets of eyes to let me know when my children make dangerous chOices that I need to be made aware of.  I am also thaNkful to all the mothers who love my children as theIr own.  I have a whole community of theSe very special women who live all around me.  In stark contrast to these angels, there is also a small breed of gossipy Felines whO tend to make mountains out of molehills.  A word of advice: pRetty please don't Moutainize mY soMeones.  And just sO you have a very clear definitioN so that you can posItively identify who these specifiC someones Are, they are every child and Teenager tHat I know.  Or don't know.  And if I hEar you babble mOuthing about any oNe of them, you can be sure (because I pinky promise) that I Will dO all I can to stop your fire froM spreading to the innocent.  Like I Am right Now.  It's the mama bear in me, WHich does nOt just come out in defense of my own children.  The Goldie Locks in me HAS some advice for you, too.  Please save your breath To cool your own porridge.  Allow teenAgers to make mistakes.  They need to learn from their own experiences in order to grow.  Of coUrse there are natural and real consequences that will come with their actions and choices.  But that is none of your business unless you are their Guardian.  CriTically analyzing a parent for the way they practice discipline will Most likely come back to haunt you onE day.  I know this because I have done so once or twice and trust me, the bite back doesn't feel so good.  No one needs your judgement, especially when it's offered poorly.  And trust me, Masking your "concErns" with a veil of "I'm just so worried" never iMpresses me nOr dO I believe that those intentions are sinceRe.  WhAt children and teens need more than anything else is a positive endorsement, not a negative assessment.  I promise that if you genuinely offer this to them, they will forever rememBer.  They will grOw up confident in themselves and be able to generoUsly offer The saMe grace that was Once besTowed upon them.  By you.

I will never forget wearing a beautiful white dress to cHurch onE Sunday.  I thought I looked quite lovely until a certain someone told me how inappropriate I looked, weaRing something so revealing.  Then she proceeded to burn my mother's ears with the same sentiments.  I will forever remember How humiliated I felt.  I cried and cried as all my black eyeliner ran dOwn my pink stained cheeks when I heard her add how whOreish my make-up lookeD.  AT the time, I was devastated but today I am actually very tHankful for this woman's example.  It tAught me exactly how I never waNt to be.  Her personAl proclamation that day fell on maNy ears and made a lasting impression on several...but most importantlY, me.  ThrOugh her example, I now understand what teenage girls really Need, and it is never, EvEr a pompous plague of criticism infecting them.  They need a set of Loving armS thrown around thEm, blanketing them with a comfort that they are perfect just as they are.  They must know that theIr mistakes do not define them.  That just because they made a wrong choice does not earn them a Lesser label.  They need twO eyes to take notice of the wonderful and amazing in them.  I have witnessed firsthand the change in girls (and boys) when they are giVen this kind of daily display of acceptance.  Girls look up to and admirE the women in their lives.  Before this incident, I tried to emulate the woman who made me crY.  That's why her actions stung sO bad.  It tore a piece of my heart to know what someone that I looked Up to so much really thought of me.     

Now, if you think I might be talking to you, I most likely am.  So do shape up.  You are grown women.  If nothing else, do your best to act like one.  Chances are that your understudy skillzzz will pay off and you just might blossom into the leading role that you were always meant to play.  And PS- Leave my someones alone.  I know Tae Bo.  But because I am dedicated to practicing peace, I will tie my wrists and ankles together with Silly String.  Pink Silly String.  :)

Understand that my tone here is not meant to be harsh, although I have chosen to use some very blunt language.  An incident that I was made aware of yesterday inspired me to pen this message late into the night.  Saddened by the story, tears swelled in my eyes as I searched in hope to find softer words to use, but I am at peace as I click to "publish post" using a clean and unsugared tongue.  When I see that pain has been inflicted on the young, I tend to become a bit zealous.  I believe that actions that hurt a child's soul and have a negative effect on their self worth will have to be answered to one day.  I fear being on the wrong end of that conversation.  And I fear living in a village that does not understand how to lovingly and logically raise a child.  We are better than that.  We can change.