Words from the Heart

I love to write and have done so professionally and academically for years.  But, not everyone knows that I also am a photographer. Back when my daughters were young, I worked for the York County Coast Star in Maine, covering local events as well as providing the photos to go along with what I wrote. Recently, I have combined my two loves - poetry and photography - and have created memes for my Facebook pages.  What a delight to marry these two art forms into something that others can see instantly and enjoy! The idea of marrying passions isn't new.  When I decided to finish my bachelor's degree several years ago, I enrolled in the University Without Walls (UWW) at UMass Amherst.  In the process of creating a portfolio of the work I had done, my professor pointed out that I had three different, yet overlapping, interests - writing, spirituality and health. Eventually, after spending almost a year honing my portfolio and culling through all the evidence of work ...

English: This is a high-resolution image of the United States Declaration of Independence (article (Photo credit: Wikipedia ) Teaching English as a second language to immigrants and refugees is an eye-opening experience.  First, there is the exchange of ideas, beliefs, customs, etc. that can't help but happen when one is teaching someone of another culture.  Then, there are the stories of hope that pull at your heart-strings, shared in between grammar lessons or during a practice conversation.  One of the greatest hopes of many of my students is to become a U.S. citizen.  To these amazing people, it is the ultimate dream.   As the great grandchild of immigrants, this dream is not so far from my personal experience not to understand the great passion and drive people have towards reaching it.  Therefore, I jump at the chance to teach my students what they need to become citizens.  One of the questions for citizenship in the U.S. is, "What are...

All my cherubs being silly Finding the music in life requires making a choice to see beauty rather than the ugliness.  I have often been accused of wearing rose-colored glasses, because I choose to look for the music, to listen for the counter-point and to dance my way along the road. Finding the music is easier when one has a full backpack of joyous tools.  My tools are family, friends, nature, Spirit, and the arts.  Little reminders come at the strangest times, usually when I need them most.  Little things like a yellow butterfly - a reminder of my Mom, or a line from a poem.  Little things like the way my grandchildren call my name, or how a dear friend will phone, out of the blue. May you find the music in your life and may it fill you with joy, especially when the rest of the world is out of tune! Namasté!   Today’s post is in participation with Women On Writing’s mass-blogging event, Everybody is Talking About Finding the Music i...

Today, I am delighted to have one of my favorite fellow writers, who has been a guest here before, join us.  Please welcome back, Melissa Foster ! Award-winning, bestselling author Melissa Foster is a touchstone for the indie publishing community and a tireless advocate for women. She is the founder of the World Literary Café, Fostering Success, and The Women’s Nest. Melissa writes emotionally-driven contemporary fiction and suspense with passionate characters that remain with the reader long after they’ve read the last words. Melissa is a friend, mentor, brownie connoisseur, and book fiend. In addition, Melissa is a dynamo of literary energy.  She, like many women today, has her hat in multiple arenas, which is why she is sharing her thoughts on controlling the chaos of life.  Her post is part of her summer blog tour . As always, Melissa, I am delighted to have you visit!   Linda, I am honored to be sharing your blog space today, thank you....

Reflected Sunset. (Photo credit: Wikipedia ) When I was asked, "What makes your life poetic?" I was taken back.  Hmmm...what a wonderful question.  As I started pondering, I realized that there were many answers to this question. As a mature, active, curious, mindful and compassionate person, I find that life is filled with joy, beauty and awe, if we but take the time to experience these wonderful gifts.  Each morning as I rise, I face the East and give thanks for another day.  I know that no matter what, this day is unique and offers me more opportunities to love and be loved. My children and grandchildren are certainly muses in my life.  They challenge, inspire and bless me in ways they will never know. My love - Roger - makes my life poetic as well as filled with song.  How wonderful is it to wake every morning to someone who cherishes you, brings you tea, plays music for you to wake to so that your day begins well?  To ...

Having been brought up Roman Catholic, I can never travel Life's Path on October 31 and November 1 without thinking of all my loved ones who have moved ahead on the Path and entered the next existence. This past year, I have created my own Memorial Altar...a kind of "Day of the Dead" memorial on which I have pictures of my loved ones, some of my brother's ashes and a candle burning. Each time I pass, I pray...prayers of thanksgiving for their being part of my life, prayers for peace of spirit and mind, prayers of love. When I was a child, it was creepy to think of people's spirits hovering close to us after death. As an adult, older and I hope wiser, I take great comfort in this thought. I have felt the presence of my mother and father over the past year during different times when I needed a bit of guidance or when I wished I could share a moment with them. I have felt my brother's spirit lingering at home, finally at peace, with my beloved and I. I ha...

I was sitting at the computer, scanning the poems I wanted to include in a proposed manuscript when I suddenly found myself in tears. The poem I had just read tore open the flood gates that I had so expertly closed over a year ago when the first of three of my immediate family died. As quickly as I began to cry, I found my self laughing at the preposterous fact that here I was sobbing over a poem I wrote myself! As I reflected on the moment, I realized that I was finally allowing the process of grief to run its course. This was a natural and healthy reaction. It would be one that would repeat, but this was OK. There are hundreds of sites dedicated to helping people understand the grieving process. Most of them agree that there are five distinct stages : Denial and Isolation, Anger, Bargaining, Depression, and Acceptance No two people grieve at the same pace or experience all of the stages at the same time. It is imperative to understand that grief is a process, not a firm, solid,...