http://www.mamasick.com/wp-content/themes/weaver/images/icons/date-1.pngWin a
Beautiful Piece of Art!
August 22, 2011 mamasick
Robin Maria Pedrero happens to be a fellow Tweeter that I follow. I honestly don’t remember following her, I have followed over 2,200 people, but one day I went to Twitter and at the top of the page was her tweet listing a piece of artwork called “Social Network”:
I had to click on a title like that! And when I did I saw her work, besides the title, just how beautiful it was I had to possess it! It is so cliche to say that her art “spoke to me”, but it did!
That was no news to Robin who said, “I find many people turn to my art to feel uplifted. Several women with chronic illnesses have told me the relief and comfort they feel having my art to look at in their space or even in their stream on Face Book.”
Starla's Eggs
The winner will have their choice of anything in Robin’s Etsy shop up to a $25 value. I am also pleased to say that even if one does not win, Robin’s prices are budget friendly too.
The contest will run until Tuesday, August 30th at 11:59 p.m. EST, and there are three ways to win:
1. Leave a comment
2. Tweet out this contest and let me know you have done it by entering again and saying something like “I tweeted out this contest.”
3. Put this contest on your Face Book and let me know you have done it by entering again and saying something like “I put this contest on my Face Book.”
Therefore, if you do all three, you will have three, separate entries in my contest, or three comments. I cannot be any more clearer, I think, and I cannot be responsible for babysitting my entrants, although I do try, sometimes. If you did three things it is your job to let me know you did. Okay? Okay! Whew, I hate to get mean, even for a little bit, but this is a contest after all and it is serious business.
Good luck!
Saturday, August 27, 2011
Sunday, January 11, 2009
She Still Only Wears Lavender
From the daughter of the Scar Clan who still only wears lavender for she is yet to earn her cloak of purple:
To the Mother of the Scar Clan who walks with the lavender daughter in every step and soothes her scars with ointments of purple rhyme and passionate stories:
To the Mother of the Scar Clan who cools the chafed skin of a journey the lavender daughter never foresaw but will travel willingly because the Purple Mother paved the way with brilliant hues of purple wonder.
The journey will be swift and mastered with great ease for petals of lilac and lavender line the path!
To the Mother of the Scar Clan who walks with the lavender daughter in every step and soothes her scars with ointments of purple rhyme and passionate stories:
To the Mother of the Scar Clan who cools the chafed skin of a journey the lavender daughter never foresaw but will travel willingly because the Purple Mother paved the way with brilliant hues of purple wonder.
The journey will be swift and mastered with great ease for petals of lilac and lavender line the path!
Written after reading "The Women Who Run With Wolves
Written after reading "The Women Who Run With Wolves
To run with the wolves is a hard journey. One undertaken with trepidation, yet wonder. As the path changes I sometimes stumble and fall, biting at the dirt. As time passes my footpads become calloused and hard so the thorns and jagged rocks along the path no longer cut nor bruise. As the path widens the sky clears and my vision becomes keener. My eyes glow with wonder at all that lays before me. In the distance, the image of one who runs before me is brilliant on the horizon. I pant with exertion to catch up. The anticipation of being taught the steps to completion is breathtaking. As I stride closer to the horizon the face of the image becomes clear. It is myself.
BLC MARCH 94
To run with the wolves is a hard journey. One undertaken with trepidation, yet wonder. As the path changes I sometimes stumble and fall, biting at the dirt. As time passes my footpads become calloused and hard so the thorns and jagged rocks along the path no longer cut nor bruise. As the path widens the sky clears and my vision becomes keener. My eyes glow with wonder at all that lays before me. In the distance, the image of one who runs before me is brilliant on the horizon. I pant with exertion to catch up. The anticipation of being taught the steps to completion is breathtaking. As I stride closer to the horizon the face of the image becomes clear. It is myself.
BLC MARCH 94
I challenge you to make a date with society.
No greater love, no greater devotion, no stronger will than that of a parent. Not just an everyday run-of-the-mill parent but the parent of a special needs child who chooses to keep their child in the home as long as is possible. Kept in the home to nurture and love, to learn to respond and hopefully find their own niche in society.
No greater frustration, no greater defeat, no greater depression than that of the parent who chooses to keep their disabled child in the home for as long as is possible. In the home to seize the nights with spasms, deplete all monetary assets and monopolize the very existence of the entire household.
No greater feeling of joy, no greater feeling of depression than that realized by the parent who holds faith in the children of society who are feared, mocked, ridiculed and sometimes even abandoned. Have you ever witnessed the look of defeat in the eyes of these same noble parents whose tearful eyes have long since dried, when faced with the foreboding realization that placement is inevitable.
Have you ever witnessed the Olympic Games where the muscles are not sculpted and well formed, where the eyes do not see clearly, and the ears do not hear the sounding round of the crowd as the they cross the finish line? Have you ever attended a school staffing where the future of these children rest in the hands of strangers? If you have answered no to any of these questions I have put before you, you are blind to the plight of joy and struggle of one of humanities greatest assets. To witness such things, humbles you to your knees as you begin to comprehend the magnitude of strength found in the hearts of these families.
With this I challenge you to make a date with society. A date with humanity in it's rarest form, a date with courage in it's ultimate creation. Make a date to spend just one day in the presence of greatness. A date with a special needs family.
Barbara Fulghum-Clemmons
1986
No greater frustration, no greater defeat, no greater depression than that of the parent who chooses to keep their disabled child in the home for as long as is possible. In the home to seize the nights with spasms, deplete all monetary assets and monopolize the very existence of the entire household.
No greater feeling of joy, no greater feeling of depression than that realized by the parent who holds faith in the children of society who are feared, mocked, ridiculed and sometimes even abandoned. Have you ever witnessed the look of defeat in the eyes of these same noble parents whose tearful eyes have long since dried, when faced with the foreboding realization that placement is inevitable.
Have you ever witnessed the Olympic Games where the muscles are not sculpted and well formed, where the eyes do not see clearly, and the ears do not hear the sounding round of the crowd as the they cross the finish line? Have you ever attended a school staffing where the future of these children rest in the hands of strangers? If you have answered no to any of these questions I have put before you, you are blind to the plight of joy and struggle of one of humanities greatest assets. To witness such things, humbles you to your knees as you begin to comprehend the magnitude of strength found in the hearts of these families.
With this I challenge you to make a date with society. A date with humanity in it's rarest form, a date with courage in it's ultimate creation. Make a date to spend just one day in the presence of greatness. A date with a special needs family.
Barbara Fulghum-Clemmons
1986
Fleeting memories of bonded relationships as my companion.
Restless days and sleepless nights wishing you could be at my side gives me time for contemplation and resolve. No more will I beg for affirmation from another's soul journey. My own destination will take me farther than to travel another's path. You've unfolded your maps and charted your course and now there's no turning back.
Why oh why does it feel so scary to know that a new journey must begin because the other will never be complete. When will I ever find someone to share my path and not be afraid to walk beside me hand in hand. Will I ever know for sure or is the damage so deeply carved that only solitude and self can repair the wounds. Here I go yet again wondering why and if the wounds ever heal.
First wrote those lines 20 years ago and they still echo in my ears and shout to my soul to please find the cure. Where is the antic dote to an illness of possibly my own making. Will my journey ever be over or is life truly a journey and not just a destination. Does anyone know the answer, or is there one?
To journey alone is a fearful thought, yet as I travel there are sure to be others along the path who have marched before me and greet me with warnings of caution yet wishes of God-speed.
My resolve to pursue avenues of accomplishment have always included the sharing of the path with a supportive hand. To my downfall I seem to choose those who struggle to read their own road-maps and inevitably I disregard the street signs and follow a route which differs with my own.
It is with great trepidation and granted a bit of fear, I seemingly am destined to be alone in my travels, with only fleeting memories of bonded relationships as my companion.
My path is sure to be winding at certain times of growth yet I embark with cautious optimism that I will find my way, albeit with no one to share it with. How dreadful to think of sharing this with only acquaintances and not someone who pursues the same path or at least an adjoining one.
Many will journey this trail and be afraid, yet I know that along the way those of us who dare shall intertwine with those who were brave enough to go before.
Reality dictates that we are truly never alone as long as we travel lightly in our spirit so that the baggage we acquire along the way is not too burdensome to carry.
Pain and memory begin my journey with me as I carry only a small travel case to hold my writings and ambitions.This leaves me with one hand free to grasp at the stars and the promises that surely lay ahead.
Why my path was mapped this way I will leave for the angels to ponder for me until I reconcile the messages in each path, doing so with respect to myself and those heroes who have trod ahead.
The hopes and dreams of peoples and nations have been founded on the ambitions and sacrifices made by single souls who dare to follow the path set for them from the onset of time.
I dare to be egotistical enough to believe that I too have a responsibility to those yet to come to lay footpaths for them and their children. How dare I, some may say, but that does not deter me.
I can only envision those who question my resolve, wrapped in the timeless task of attempting to re-fold their own maps on the creases, as if it really matters. As for me I shall pin my maps upon the walls of my soul's hallway and not worry about the prefabricated folds.
So with this in mind I lay out my journals, enter these thoughts, and begin my travels. Perhaps along the way, our paths shall intertwine at a crossroads and I will welcome you to share my fire.
Until then I shall assume your maps are neatly folded and tucked away in the dashboard pocket of your spirit. Should you ever desire to journey with me it should be easy to find me. Just look on the wall in the hallway.
Why oh why does it feel so scary to know that a new journey must begin because the other will never be complete. When will I ever find someone to share my path and not be afraid to walk beside me hand in hand. Will I ever know for sure or is the damage so deeply carved that only solitude and self can repair the wounds. Here I go yet again wondering why and if the wounds ever heal.
First wrote those lines 20 years ago and they still echo in my ears and shout to my soul to please find the cure. Where is the antic dote to an illness of possibly my own making. Will my journey ever be over or is life truly a journey and not just a destination. Does anyone know the answer, or is there one?
To journey alone is a fearful thought, yet as I travel there are sure to be others along the path who have marched before me and greet me with warnings of caution yet wishes of God-speed.
My resolve to pursue avenues of accomplishment have always included the sharing of the path with a supportive hand. To my downfall I seem to choose those who struggle to read their own road-maps and inevitably I disregard the street signs and follow a route which differs with my own.
It is with great trepidation and granted a bit of fear, I seemingly am destined to be alone in my travels, with only fleeting memories of bonded relationships as my companion.
My path is sure to be winding at certain times of growth yet I embark with cautious optimism that I will find my way, albeit with no one to share it with. How dreadful to think of sharing this with only acquaintances and not someone who pursues the same path or at least an adjoining one.
Many will journey this trail and be afraid, yet I know that along the way those of us who dare shall intertwine with those who were brave enough to go before.
Reality dictates that we are truly never alone as long as we travel lightly in our spirit so that the baggage we acquire along the way is not too burdensome to carry.
Pain and memory begin my journey with me as I carry only a small travel case to hold my writings and ambitions.This leaves me with one hand free to grasp at the stars and the promises that surely lay ahead.
Why my path was mapped this way I will leave for the angels to ponder for me until I reconcile the messages in each path, doing so with respect to myself and those heroes who have trod ahead.
The hopes and dreams of peoples and nations have been founded on the ambitions and sacrifices made by single souls who dare to follow the path set for them from the onset of time.
I dare to be egotistical enough to believe that I too have a responsibility to those yet to come to lay footpaths for them and their children. How dare I, some may say, but that does not deter me.
I can only envision those who question my resolve, wrapped in the timeless task of attempting to re-fold their own maps on the creases, as if it really matters. As for me I shall pin my maps upon the walls of my soul's hallway and not worry about the prefabricated folds.
So with this in mind I lay out my journals, enter these thoughts, and begin my travels. Perhaps along the way, our paths shall intertwine at a crossroads and I will welcome you to share my fire.
Until then I shall assume your maps are neatly folded and tucked away in the dashboard pocket of your spirit. Should you ever desire to journey with me it should be easy to find me. Just look on the wall in the hallway.
Like Mother, Like Daughter
Like Mother, Like Daughter
I look into those eyes, so much like my own and see the future. I see excitement about new adventures. Don't look back child, have no regrets, only carry lessons from old adventures that caused pain or stagnation. How do I let you go when I'm so afraid of what the world holds. How did mama let me go knowing all she did, that she tried to share and I refused to acknowledge.
How was mama strong enough to watch me as I stumbled along making mistakes and making her worry that all her hard work had been for nothing.
Some day you will understand that all that anyone ever truly has is TIME. Time lost is never regained to be used again. Once that moment of connection with friends or family is gone it is never regained or to be used.
One moment wasted is one moment lost on the winds of time never to be recouped. Each of us is given a certain amount of time on earth to use. Go wisely and hold time dearly for once it is spent it is never retrieved.
I look into those eyes, so much like my own and see the future. I see excitement about new adventures. Don't look back child, have no regrets, only carry lessons from old adventures that caused pain or stagnation. How do I let you go when I'm so afraid of what the world holds. How did mama let me go knowing all she did, that she tried to share and I refused to acknowledge.
How was mama strong enough to watch me as I stumbled along making mistakes and making her worry that all her hard work had been for nothing.
Some day you will understand that all that anyone ever truly has is TIME. Time lost is never regained to be used again. Once that moment of connection with friends or family is gone it is never regained or to be used.
One moment wasted is one moment lost on the winds of time never to be recouped. Each of us is given a certain amount of time on earth to use. Go wisely and hold time dearly for once it is spent it is never retrieved.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
