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 |   Second blog -- answers to an ocean of prompts |
 "Failure is unimportant. It takes courage to make a fool of yourself." CHARLIE CHAPLIN  Sometimes it takes darkness and the sweet confinement of your aloneness to learn anything or anyone that does not bring you alive is too small for you. David Whyte        This is my supplementary blog in which I will post entries written for prompts. |
| Prompt: What things are you thankful for at this time? -------------- For everything. First of all, for having given a chance at life and for all the years I've lived. In fact, I express my thankfulness every night before I go to bed by writing down the details of all the things I was thankful for during the day. I have notebooks and notebooks of thanking over the years. I am doing this for myself, not for anyone else, as this practice lifts up my mood in general.  “Only the very weak-minded refuse to be influenced by literature and poetry.” ― Cassandra Clare Let this quote influence your blog.... ----------------- I am not sure about this quote. First, I don't see how anyone can determine what a "weak-mind" is. In fact, I know someone who is a member of the upper echelon of Mensa who clearly dislikes literature and poetry, calling them fake. On the other hand, I am mainly and greatly influenced by literature and poetry and so is the family I was born into. I think poetry is a form that has been practiced to reflect human emotions since the dawn of civilization. Poets, first in front of their caves and later on stage, put their emotions into words and described rivers, winds, dark skies, flowers, sunshine, animals, and danger. They were happy, sad, humorous, worried, or scared. Some of those, later on, were sung or orated at a war scene to scare the enemy or any other gathering to add spice to life. Most or all of the oral and written literature did the same thing, later on. The way I see it, most literature and poetry is about humanity and the different perceptions of the writers who use different tones and viewpoints to reflect who we are as species. Then, literature also influences other forms of art, such as songs, music, visual arts, and stage. Sometimes it is the other way around when the music and arts influences the writers and poets. Still, the whole exchange has to do with humanity. As to those who may call Literature and Poetry "fake" or those who call others who have a different opinion "weak-minded," I have to say what they call fake is as real as humanity and that everyone has a right to their opinion. And as a human being, I do respect your stance on the matter and I'd never call you or anyone else with derogatory names and attributes, but by shunning poetry and literature, you don't know what you are missing in this life. |
| Some experiments have shown that certain smells bring back old memories from our pasts. Taking off from these findings, which memories does your nose remember? --------- Marcel Proust, in Remembrance of Things Past, talked about smells and their ability to bring out long lost memories, possibly about a hundred years ago. Smells have an unusual power to bring back memories, maybe because smell signals bypass the thalamus and head straight to their destinations, possibly directly to amygdala which is the supervisor of emotions in our brains. But this is an old way of looking at the pathways of smells and memory. Newer findings show an all around multi-faceted ways of the brain and the tricky manner it brings about anything into our consciousness. Whatever may be the correct version of how this happens, I do have a treasure trove of memories attached to smells. Such as... my grandmother's pastries baking and that aroma fluttering through the house all the way to its third story, the smell of the earth after a rain, the odor of the compost pile at the corner of the backyard, my mother's perfume with the scent of jasmine, and later on, the joy I felt inhaling the baby smells, especially when I touched my nose to my newborns' necks, the smells from my once-upon-a-time rose garden, the aroma of grass right after mowing the lawn, the smell of piping hot tea or cocoa on chilly days, the scent of the crackling logs in the fireplace, the smell of garlic on my hands after I take a whole head apart to use in cooking, the scent of Old Spice on my husband, and the aroma of the honeysuckle plant on the back-porch, which never lasted long enough for me... Come to think of it, none of the aromas and scents last long enough, neither do the people we love, but just maybe...their memories that leave behind only traces of themselves. |
| How was January for you? ---------------- January was January as always, weather-wise. It was cooler than usual some days, and warmer than other days, in relation to the regular hot-to-warm Florida weather. What made this January so special is my older son's having come to stay with me for two months, until the end of February, which makes me think I am so lucky with sons who don't want their mother stay alone for very long. So January was great and busy, as is this February, and at the moment, I am set to enjoy every single day of it. Ground Hog Day ---------------- I don't believe in the myth that the groundhog can predict the weather. It is a fact that the animal has been right only 30-40 %, during the time its data was kept, whereas the weather people were correct at least 60% of the time. These percentages do not say much for either party, but we'll take what we get. There is, however, that movie, which highlights the situations in our lives when the same negative, monotonous, or even positive experiences may occur repeatedly. Some of those also occur repeatedly with no change or correction. I can come up with a few in my long life, but that would take a novel and, silly me, I have already talked too much and too long about an animal's predictions. Recall a memory that has emotional not sentimental value for you. Now think about an image or object that triggers that significant moment, conflict or crisis. Write about it. Do you find writing helps you in circumstances like this? ---------------- My house is on a golf course. A few years ago, we witnessed a huge hawk swoop down on a squirrel and kill it while we watched the horror from our back porch. Granted the hawk immediately sat on the squirrel and broke its neck, proving that nature is much kinder than the mankind. Next, it grabbed the lifeless squirrel in its talons and flew off. Now, I have a small black cat and I'm very much alertand on edge that she doesn't leave the covered porch and the house. Granted my cat is larger than that squirrel but you never know. The trouble with predators like hawks is that you don't see or notice them at first when they go in action, and when you do, it may be too late, then. I am not sure if writing helps with things like this. There are other instances where I wrote about such stuff, under a veil or not, but that stuff didn't go away from my mind at all. On the other hand, I like writing and that's why I write in the first place. |
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