The Journey

Six years. My dad has a saying, "The time is moving so fast, people don't have time to age." :-) I get that. My lil home here in cyberspace started six years ago today. And, it's still under construction. As I am. As we all are. Still here? You're still a work-in-progress.

I won't be long tonight. (Don't all rejoice at once. Heh heh.) More than anything, I wanted to say thanks for sticking around; for reading each post, or most of them...even a few. When I started this blog, it was so that I'd have an outlet. #writeorsuffocate. I still keep journals. They've metamorphosed into prayer journals. But, this place in cyberspace is kinda special. It helps keep me disciplined in my writing. To be honest, I've started to breathe easier. So, the writing here has helped. :-) The journals do have their place, of course. For Him, a place apart.

Funny. An insurance agent asked me recently about my prized possessions - Jewellry? I told him nope. I do have a favourite pair of earrings going 20 years now... The stuff I treasure are more of sentimental than monetary value. Like the journals I've been keeping since I was 14. If those go, I told him, they couldn't be replaced anyway, so let's move on. He agreed. We moved on.

So, back to the outlet. This has been great. And, it continues to be great. I get to write whatever the heck I want. You've seen the posts - or not. If you're new to this blog, welcome. Feel free to scroll though the years. It's important to me that I write whatever I want. So, the subject matter and content - and, occasionally, style - do vary. From Buju to Baby Shower; from McLuhan to Marley. In the end, I would have written what was on my heart and mind. And, out of 220 posts, I'd say one - no more than two - left me a bit bothered about whether I'd said exactly what I'd set out to say.

On the cusp of the seventh year, I am thankful. I am thankful to God for this blessing to create and write. I am thankful for my life. I have been wondering how, my life being spared, the next year of writing will be shaped. What new experiences will inform my writing; whether there will be more passion about certain things; to give or not to give even more of myself and share a few testimonials, all for the sake of lending a hand. As I've said many times, one of the best things someone could possibly say to me, having read my writing - be it prose or poem - is how well they can relate. Relateability. (I keep using that spelling...)

Don't you ever wonder why it's so important for someone else to know they're not the only one who's going through a particular time of despair; a certain trial; a rough patch that seems unending? That someone else has, too? I've wondered about that. Why is it important for someone to know a certain bad situation is not unique to them? Why does it matter that Tom, Dick and Harry have made it through this? Or, are going through it as well. Good for them. This is me, and I know how it feels and they couldn't have felt this way and things could never have been so bad and so on and so forth. As I thought about it, all I came up with was hope. It's a simple answer, really. Hope that if someone else made it through, maybe you can, too. If someone else is strong enough to continue enduring, maybe you can, too. Relateability makes my heart glad, because it says, someone read my work and saw themselves in it, and were encouraged or inspired by the how I came through/am going through a similar mess; bore/is bearing a comparable cross. And yet, I'm still here! And how.

We all have something. No one has "got it all together". Some don't say much; some find an outlet and some, well, with them it's TMI. Point is, one doesn't have to be an expert in any field of study to offer a hand to hold. It's a human thing. I'm big on hand-holding in a time of despair or anxiety. Hold my hand. No words. I've found it to be comforting. I suppose that's the other thing with relateability (a tweep assured me it is a word). Hope is one thing; the other thing is comfort. Perhaps that's one way of looking at it. I'd also like my writing to be seen as offering my hand to hold.

This paragraph is dedicated to family and friends who've held my hand - figuratively and literally - on this journey.

Now, the writing doesn't have to say, "There, there," to be comforting. Even if it simply evokes a feeling of, "You know what, the way she writes? All is not lost in today's world. I'm inclined to believe everything is going to be alright." That'd make my heart glad.

The recent passing of a few famous people has reminded us that the journey of this life does not go on forever. Robin Williams' passing saddened me - for a number of reasons. Lauren Bacall's evoked tributes that reminded the world of her love for Bogey. (I also finally figured out the lyrics to Key Largo. Don't ask!) And, today, Roger Clarke, Jamaica's Minister of Agriculture, passed away in Florida, as he prepared to travel to Jamaica. Walk good, Roger Clarke.

As that line from Wear Sunscreen says, "The race is long, and in the end, it's only with yourself."

Here's to more creating, more writing, and more glad hearts on the journey.



Claudia
www.cyopro.com
www.twitter.com/cyopro

The Discomfort of a Certain Word and Term

There are a few words and terms that scare me.  (No. "Boo!" is not one of them :-)  And, perhaps "scare" is too strong.  I'd say they make me uncomfortable. I would like to think that I'm totally over them, as in, the use of them.  And, I would be right - for the most part. For the little part that's left, I'm okay when I hear them being used.  To use them myself?  Not so much.  So, I hardly do.

One of those words is "aspect".  Yep.  That's it. Aspect. Allow me to use it in a sentence. "He and I have been friends for many years and I know about every aspect of his life." Yeeeaaah.  Those were the words as they came out of her mouth as she told me about my then boyfriend. Don't know why, but, of all the words, "aspect" was the one that stood out. So, I stopped using it. I quickly found a substitute for every time I was about to use it in a sentence.  I found "area" did the job rather well.

Like I said, I don't...didn't cringe so much when I heard other people use it.  No control there.  But, my use of it was a no-no.  It just always brought me back, instantaneously, to that gloating, vitriolic voice telling me why her friendship with him was more important than mine.

Given that the hurt of that time has long passed and given my under-use of the word, nowadays, I'm good. On the rare occasion I hear it, I think, "It has surely lost its sting."

The term "soul mate" is up next. I used it once referring to a new interest as I shared the excitement of new love.  During the time together, I thought we had so much in common; that he could well be my soul mate. Turned out he wasn't. And, hot on the heels of our cleavage, one of those with whom I had shared the aforementioned excitement, used the same term to describe what they and their spouse had. Sure showed me.  Haven't used it since.

I used to think there was one soul mate for each person; someone with whom you have a heck of a lot in common and many things just clicked. Now, I'm not so sure. I mean, what about those folks whose soul  mate has died; they remarry; they live 30+ years together with this new love - undoubtedly in love?  Maybe they were/are just blessed that way - two mates for their soul. Or, maybe there is just one soul mate and the lasting love that comes after is "just" someone who loves them for them. Period. I'd like to think that that counts for something.  For those who marry for the 4th and 5th (and counting) time, without experiencing the death of the previous spouse, I dunno. Maybe by then it's a soul friend or a coffee mate or something.  I dunno. They have their reasons.  Whenever I hear a couple use the term "soul mate" nowadays, I think, "That's nice."  There's no sarcasm; they know why they use it and that's nice.

Today is Thanksgiving Day in Canada.  Among many things, I thank God for my life; being alive and the ability to live life enjoyably.  I'm anal and persnickety and everyone who knows me knows that. And yet, they love me.  Little wonder that I am thankful for my family and close friends.  And, the fact that I can recognize and quickly choose not to embrace the small stressors in my life? That's nice, too.


Claudia
www.cyopro.com
www.twitter.com/cyopro