By the numbers

I've been thinking long and hard about whether to write about this. There is absolutely no interest on my part to append any meaning whatsoever on this...thing, with regard to numerology or the like.

About a year and a half ago, when I was still reading the t.o. newspaper, I saw a post from someone who mentioned coming into contact with a certain number over and over in her life. I was drawn to that, as she reeled off several occasions in which she would just "come across" this number, as it had, for a while before that, been happening to me.  And, it still does.

The first number is 911. It started about three or so years ago. I'd check the time and, almost without fail, it would be 9:11am or, at night, if I happened to check the time, it'd be 9:11. Now and then, I'd be off by about a minute, but, for the most part, I'd be on.

The other number is 242. But, there is a story of a different kind of horror connected with this one. I worked for a Frankenboss (a term - with definition and all - that I saw on Twitter today). I imagine he was a nice man - or could be - outside of work. He seemed charming and disarming enough. But, he was a horrible boss. His extension was 242. I'm not even sure when I start started seeing that number...everywhere! I left his employ - ran away from him, actually. Not proud that I did it, but, it had to be done. And, it might have been about two years after, that I started taking note of the number popping up.  More often than not when I check the time in the afternoon, that's it. If I rush to the microwave thinking I might be overheating something, that's the number that greets me.  If I'm working out, by the time I'm done on the treadmill, I've done 2.42 miles and so on.

At first, it was a bit unnerving. Now, not at all, really. I'm not into numerology or anything of the like.  I'd shared about those "special" words and I thought I'd share about these numbers. I decided to do a Google search and check out a few other numbers. Occasionally, it helps to be reminded of how small and finite one is. (Channeling my inner Queen Elizabeth, apparently. :-)  I think I searched for "number of days since" and inserted my birthday. I found this site.  Pretty cool info follows:

According to the site, I've been alive for 15, 172 days. My heart has been beating since birth for 364, 104 hours or 21, 846, 240 minutes or 1, 310, 774, 400 seconds.  I am not a coincidence. I am a wondrous display of the awesome and glorious work of my Creator.  He made me and has kept me all this time.  In and out of many seasons, both literal and figurative, He has kept me. He hasn't taken His eyes off me and He hasn't missed a beat all this time! And, look how many of us there are!

Know what's even cooler? That He can tell exactly where I was and what I was doing and wearing and thinking at second number 998, 234, 769. Or, at minute number 5, 091, 273. He numbers the very hairs on our heads - so particular about His children. He's like that. And, I love that.


Claudia
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The Comfort of Certain Words and Terms

There are certain words that are pleasing to my ear.  I like the sound of them; I enjoy saying them out loud.  And, in at least one case, where the meaning isn't the most positive thing ever, the way my tongue has to get wrapped around it for it to come out well, usually makes me smile.

I'll start with that one: forlorn.  Just listen to that: forlorn. It calls such attention to itself, does it not?  The word demands that you spend time with it; that you caress, not only the syllables, but the shape of every letter.  And, listen to that pretty double 'or', making it all sexy up in here. To think, the meaning is nowhere near that, but no matter. Forlorn is, hands down, one of my favourite words. Most times when I do use it, it's to ask my lil sis how come she sounds so forlorn?  And, I'd say about 95% of the times, just the use and sound of the word causes us to smile. It's quite a picker upper.  Forlorn. :-)

Another fave is: relax.  Recently I've found myself saying it out loud - not screaming, just saying it a couple times, moving it from my mind to without. Even as I say it, my shoulders release their tension; I consciously breathe deeper and exhale longer.  And, I feel calmer.  I'm usually praying for God to guide me, especially when I find I'm getting anxious about something or just have way too much to do. I'm thankful for the presence of mind to utter the word; to focus on the directive and for the calm and peace that accompanies it. It sure helps when you know that you can, in fact, relax because you're "not in this alone" - whatever "this" is.  #HeGotThis

"Watch dis!"  Now, there's a term I've come to love. The meaning behind it is awesome. The story behind it is pretty lengthy, too. But, I'm gonna try to capture the gist. My lil sis coined the phrase when she and I were just about to be caught up in a very sensitive, high-stress situation with heavy repercussions. I had been feeling rather apprehensive about the whole situation; so forlorn. In that moment before it was "gonna go down", a question was asked; we gave a response and we were then redirected.  I know this might be as clear as mud - wish I could be clearer.  Suffice it to say, after we finished getting our instructions from the new set of folks, we made it back to the original set of folks.  As it turned out, they totally overlooked asking us for what they should have - but what I so did not have, and should have had, on my person - and they just waved us on our way.  Shortly after we left that area, trying somehow to wrap our minds around what had just happened, my sis said, "It was as if God just said, "It's ok. Watch dis!" Then went straight to work on our behalf. Of course, we shared the episode with the rest of the family. Since then, it has been a constant source of encouragement in the most trying of times. There's no need to go through the story, of course. All we need say is, "Watch dis!" And we get it.

Remember that movie, "In Her Shoes"? Remember that poem by e.e. cummings that Maggie read for Rose toward the end in the wedding scene? Remember that line in the poem "I carry your heart with me (I carry it in my heart)"? Isn't it just precious? I think so. So simple yet, so everything. Sigh. Once, I used a variation of it for someone dear to me. My version was, "I carry you in my heart." I didn't quite remember the line, but  I figured that was close enough. It is a beautiful sentiment. (The rest of the poem is lovely, too. :-)

I imagine you have your own words that stir up whatever feelings/emotions that they do. I really hope that the good ones far outweigh the not-so-cool ones. After all, there are so many of them - in so many different languages! Here's to comfort - in your own words and in your own terms.



Claudia
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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
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"Virgin Territory" and "Company"

I finally figured out what I found so funny the other day as I read my old notebook (and folder leaves - remember those?) of poems. It was the kind of feather that knocks you over when you think, "Look at what I was intent on getting, when God had so much more in mind for me?!"  This is not the same as "What was I possibly thinking?" Because, I knew what I was thinking.  I was thinking that I was in love. And, I'm not about to make fun of my younger-in-love self. But, just looking at what I thought was "the best thing, ever!" even asking God whether He was sure He could "top this", I just laugh right out loud given my 20/20 hindsight.  Yeah, each of whom I thought was "The One", was, clearly, at best "The Two".

After the laughs, I smile.  I reflect just a tad on how things were and I'm either glad that it happened or glad that it is over.  Most of all, I'm glad I had put it into words.  Here now, from me at 20: "Virgin Territory" and at 21: "Company".

Virgin Territory

Recently, all my thoughts of you

Have flowed from tears.

Salty, burning, irritating water

That springs from a bleeding heart.

Why do you cause me so much pain?

I thought by now I'd have refrained

From wishing to be near you,

Desiring with every nerve and sinew

To be loved by you again.

Cause me joy.  Cause me laughter.

Cause me to be happy ever after

You tell me that you have to go.

I feel empty without you so

I'm going to wallow in this

My pity of self!

Weep and sob

Until the knob

Of the door is turned

Inviting me 

Into peaceful, virgin territory.

- Dnafcnatgada

Company

My most beautiful moments

Have been with you

Under a black velvet sky - 

By the sea - 

You, my dreams and me.

With your laughter

You share the music of my heart

The rhythms of my soul,

All that I've longed for

To have and to hold...

On to your thoughts

That you share with me.

You touch. I feel.

There's more to meeting 

Than just...company.

My most beautiful moments

Sharing our laughter, our thoughts

With the wind. By the sea.

You, my dreams and me.

 - Dnafcnatgada

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"Sand in My Shorts"

The poetry continues.  Quite frankly, "It never ends!" (Over the Hedge)

I read The Haunting at the lit cafe on Sunday.  (As a "brawta" I did I Can Dream.)  As I read, I felt comfortable.  It was a delightful almost-seven minutes.  I'd like to do it again.  A small group had gathered at the Moonshine Cafe in Oakville. And, they kept their word :-)  Reading and listening to poetry inside that literary cafe drew the probability of my being a published poet that much closer.  It was...inspiring, y'know?  I know.  I use that word here a lot - for the same reason spelled out in the phrase that I also use here a lot: "Sometimes, you just need to be inspired."

The poem I'm about to share was written when I was 21.  Gonna be honest.  I was looking through this worn and torn book of poems, reading and re-reading and, I just found myself laughing out loud. For a few of them, I had to compose myself to continue. Of course I'm not laughing at the idea of my younger self in love. That couldn't be it...Nah!  I'll work on it.  I have a theory but, more anon.

Here now:

Sand in My Shorts

You took me from my dream

Into your reality.

Everything that I've ever hoped for

You handed to me

Under a star-spangled platter

Then, nothing else seemed to matter

But your sharing my fantasy

That dream which you had now

Realized.

And, in your eyes

I saw you doubting

Whether or not my love was mounting.

And I closed my eyes

And loved you

Hoping for no hurting retorts

While I had sand

In the folds of my shorts.

- Dnafcnatgada

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"I Can Dream"

Later this month I'm scheduled to read my poem, The Haunting, at a literary cafe, somewhere in the universe.  While publicly reading my poem is not a new thing for me, publicly reading my poem, after a twenty-plus-year hiatus, is. I have been assured that they won't bite; that they will be welcoming.  I take them at their word.

In the spirit of the resurrection - the quickening, if you will - of this dimension of my life, I shall be sharing a few poems this month.  Today's piece, written by me at 17-yo, is entitled:  I Can Dream.  Signing it with my name that's "only for the poetry" and, again, I'll try to resist the urge of my 40-something self to edit.

I Can Dream

Maybe you won't hold me tight

As often as I want you to.

Maybe you won't kiss my lips

My face, my neck

As I long for you to do.

Maybe you won't tell me that you love me

As often as every day

But, I can dream about

These things, and more,

While you are away.

I can dream that we're on

A moonlit beach

Somewhere in the dark

Or, that we're taking lovely pictures

By the river, in the park.

Or, better yet, we're holding hands

Walking toward the sunset.

And, we're laughing at a joke of yours

Walking toward the sunset.

But, these dreams are no more

Than what they are, just fantasies

And sometimes help to ease the pain

Of not tasting the realities.

They're things you can hold on to

And make them last much longer

Than realities that come and go,

Making your longing stronger.

-- Dnafcnatgada

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The Age of Creativity

This is the Age of Technology.  No argument there, right?  Like I said to my sis, @MizDurie, the other day, it's also the Age of Creativity.  I'm pretty sure I'm not the only one who has had this thought.  You know how "original" thoughts go.  Just haven't met the other millions of people the world over who've had it/ said it / written it.  When I say "The Age of Creativity", I am not speaking as if from my own microcosm, oblivious to the mind-blowing creations and inventions that mankind has been bursting at the seams with since fig leaves doubled as underwear and outerwear.  No, instead, I'm shifting our focus to the creative possibilities and realities that the Age of Technology has brought with it, given its built-in opportunities.

It used to be that the creators and inventors whose products and services and artsy creations made it to the world stage, were relatively few and far apart.  Every single solitary person is creative in some way; some in more than one way. But, that way, or those ways, for most people, did not get to see the light of day; did not make it to the world's platform where it could be showcased and enjoyed and laughed with - and laughed at!

The Age of Technology has made it possible for many who were, before, bereft of such opportunities, to "do their thing"; to show it off for an audience comprising more than their immediate family and close friends.  In short, they have tapped the built-in opportunities in technology and have come out expressing who they are in their own creative way.  This is the Age in which the common man, woman, boy, girl, cat, dog (you get my drift) shines!

Consider for a few seconds the millions of YouTube videos that scream "Look at me!" as the performers broadcast everything from singing to ice-sculpting; busking to painting; showing cat love to breakdown over sloths.  Are more creations/productions taking place now because there is an online outlet? I believe so.  Some writers have thumbed their noses at traditional publishing and have now gone the way of eBooks; blogs; vlogs - anything that can fulfill the need for an outlet through which their creative juices, having flowed, can be shared in a certain space.

Many of us know how tightly we hold our creative works to our chests.  It takes guts and gusto to "put it out there" under the critiquing eye of the public.  So, whenever I'm drawn to a new creative piece on show, I usually (usually) appreciate the courage it took the creator to get it there.  I believe, however, that just the very frequency and volume of creative works being published; uploaded; broadcast, reduces the apprehension of possible rejection by that much.  After all, with so many people are doing it, if mine wipes out, it will be forgotten in the next minute.

I also think that that same frequency and volume sear, even by that much, our expectation for something that we might regard as "a quality production".  True, this would be subjective.  But, I'm sure quite a number of us have experienced inundation of offline and online product pushing - everybody has something to sell; to say; to sing; to do; to drive; to watch; to wear.  We are constantly bombarded by consumerism and by the creative.  But then, once in a while, there is something that stands out, different from the rest, resonating with something inside us.  It is beyond our seared expectation and it makes us sit up and take notice.  That, I imagine, is what most creators are going for.

The thing is, some try way too hard.  And, not all cases end well.  So, courage mightn't be short, but, common sense might be. Just this week, we read of the newly wed woman and her "trash the dress" photography session; of the man dressed like Bigfoot, only to be mowed down in the middle of a highway.  No need for me to get into how brutal some commenters can be behind a screen and pseudonym - even in cases like these.  You've read them.   What we find "amazing" though, perhaps, not entirely surprising, is that there are those who will continue to do things for cheap thrills; for shock and awe; to stand out;  to try to get their fifteen minutes of fame, while not applying common sense.

Thanks to smartphones and other personal devices, photographers, videographers and iReporters abound.  App creators, for example, appeal to users, who in turn create for other consumers/onlookers and so on and so forth.  We are all creators and consumers at one and the same time.

Speaking of personal devices, I've been using my PlayBook to capture what I call "gems" in my comings and goings.  I look forward to showcasing other folks' works; events and scenes that speak for themselves as they wow the beholders.   For example, I was happy to record and showcase the performance of  Turbo Street Funk, a busking band out of Toronto, the other day.  Also, grabbed some pics from the 2012 Sand Sculpting Competition in Bronte, Ontario.  (Pics below.)

We can - and we do.  And, there's a place to show it off.  Somewhere.

Peter Vogelaar's creation

Siggi Buhler's creation

Guy-Olivier Deveau's creation

Tanya Kastl's creation

Scott Herel's creation

Sandi Stirling's creation

Claudia
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