Can We Speak in Flowers? | #WordlessWednesday

can we speak in flowers.
it will be much easier for me to understand.

–other language

——————————————————–

flower work
is
not easy.
remaining
soft in the fire
takes
time.

nayyirah waheed, poems from salt.


About the image: The pansies above were captured last spring during one of my photo walks. I gave the “flowers” (poems included) to sisters and friends for Women’s History Month. Since most have received them, I’m sharing them here for #WordlessWednesday. You need flowers too.

Purple Tulips and God’s Hug | #WordlessWednesday

Spring came again today. The thawing Earth
is like a child who knows her poems by heart.

–Rainer Maria Rilke, from Sonnets to Orpheus
[Translated by David Hills]

We’ve finally had some consistently beautiful weather–sunny skies and breezy, warmer days–so yesterday I took a break from the mental work and took a photo-walk with my photographer friend, Amanda. We “found” purple tulips.

Purple tulips were my sister Lori’s favorite flower, so this experience was truly a hug from God.

Happy First Day of Spring!

“Black Women Breathe Flowers Too”

black women breathe flowers, too.
just because
we are taught to grow them in the lining of our
quiet (our grandmothers secret).
does not mean
we do not swelter with wild tenderness.
we soft swim.
we petal.
we scent limbs.
love.
we just have been too long a garden for sharp
and deadly teeth.
so we
have
grown
ourselves
into
greenhouses.

–greenhouses
nayyirah waheed, salt.

Happy International Women’s Day 2019

Silly Haiku: Angry Footless Men?

My son and I were having a conversation recently that reminded me of the “visual haiku” he and his classmates wrote when I took them on an outing last year. Of course, I had to provide an example for them. What do I do when I have to write a haiku “on the spot” for a bunch of sixth graders? I write a silly haiku based on a photo of pansies, of course!

Angry footless men
Glare when I pause for a look
Or, are they…puppies

–Chandra Lynn, Spring 2018–

No One Ever Told Me…

Purple by Lynda F.

Is a Saturday morning post the same thing as a Friday post?

I crashed (on and off) after getting through the short Friday workday. When we arrived home at about 1:30, I made lunch for the kiddo and went to sleep. I woke up in time to make dinner and lounged and “liked” on IG until sleep overcame me again. My body is insisting on the sleep “they” say we can never catch up on.

Anyway, as promised (but several hours late), here’s another stunning piece of artwork by my Love Notes 26 partner, Lynda F. The final prompt was “No one ever told me…”

No one ever told me I’d be a caregiver and how challenging that is. But I’m strong–and have risen to the challenge.

Lynda’s husband suffered a stroke in 2017, and of course, life changed for them in an instant. As I struggled with which “no one ever told me” to share, Lynda’s response gave me pause. Late last year two of my uncles had strokes–my mom’s brother in New Orleans and my dad’s brother-in-love, who lives here in Northern Alabama.

Because I live here, I witnessed that moment when life changed for all our family here–and especially for my aunt. The battle between faith and fear when the doctors offered no hope. [Faith won]. The immediate shift in priorities. The action plan. The fight in all of us.

My aunt, who hadn’t driven in years, started driving again and picked up my uncle’s usual tasks. My dad’s other sisters, who also live here, adjusted their lives too.

Life changes.

And, like Lynda said, no one can ever tell us this is going to happen. There is no preparation. No training. No warning. This is life, and when we are living and walking in hope, faith, and love, we roll with it. We adjust. We rise to the challenge and accept our new normal(s).

Maybe, one day, I’ll share my uncle’s miraculous story, but for now, I wish you a happy and restful weekend and strength for this journey called life.

Purple Orchids and Self-Love

Photo by Christine B.

Self-love has been the theme for today. It popped up a number of times during the day–when [writing] my own morning musings steered me in that direction; when I read the latest blog post written by Briana M., a student in my Creative Nonfiction course–who happens to be the granddaughter of my late mentor; and finally, when the book I was reading to begin a class session opened to a chapter entitled “Schedule Your Own Happiness” instead of the chapter I’d bookmarked.

Point taken.

I’ve declared this week “Self-love Week” on Pics and Posts, and Briana’s insightful post–which defines self-love–is the perfect place to begin. With her permission, I’m sharing it here:

This week taught me that Self-Love is painful.
Self-Love is seeing a therapist to handle childhood trauma.
Self-Love is writing a letter to release pent up resentment.
Self-Love is visiting a grandmother who doesn’t remember who you are.
Self-Love is taking care of whatever is tugging at your heart.
Self-Love is the heavy lifting.
Self-Love is cleaning up the mess someone else left in your front yard.
Self-Love is forgiveness and forgiving those who do not deserve it.
Self-Love is forgiving yourself when no one else will.
Self-Love is digging deep enough to heal the pain you suppressed for years.
Self-Love is finding the source of the dark cloud following you around.
Self-Love is painful.
Self-Love is rewarding.
Self-Love is more than bubble bath and face mask.

This week, require more of yourself, you deserve it. –Briana M., The Introvert’s Escape Maneuver, “Self-Love is Painful”

Be sure to visit Briana’s blog and show her some blogger-love.


Note on the image: Today’s luxurious purple orchids were captured by my friend Christine B. They’re from her mother’s lovely garden.  Extra love provided by the USPS. 😉

Forgive me for being five minutes late for…

 

Escape.

“Maui’s Exotic Skies.” Photo by D. Cornwell

As the day draws to a close, sit back and enjoy the peace and tranquility as the sun dramatically sets in Hawaiian skies. –from the postcard back.

I “closed the book” on Fall 2018–a long and stressful semester–but a lengthy to-do list mocks me, reminding me that there’s so much more to be done. No matter. I’ve already planned my mental escape. I’m “on my way” to Maui as I type.

To escape and sit quietly on the beach–that’s my idea of paradise. –Emilia Wickstead