Category Archives: Just Me Musing

All of my non-poetry posts, relating to anything and everything. Mirthful, with a sprinkling of Truth.

No More Hemp Hogs – #Musings about #Joy and Cantankerousism

18 Sunday Jul 2021

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hemphogs

Have you ever worked with someone, gone to school with someone, maybe even lived with someone who really annoyed you?

NO????????? Ok Mother Theresa, I guess this post is for the rest of us ….

Sure you have, and so have I. There’s always one. Someone who comes in late and leaves early, takes an extra long lunch and spends the remaining time doing as little as possible. Maybe they are like the office helicopter, they like to hover, which only makes you want to swat at them with a ruler or shoot elastic bands at them when they aren’t watching. Perhaps they are the office socialite, who comes in every day with tales from the dark side to share whether or not you really care to hear. They grumble, they mumble, they can turn anything on its head. Or they might be that person that is always there to gobble up the yummy snack(s) brought in by someone or other, but never, ever, EVER, offer anything themselves. (Feeling left out? Go ahead…insert your own pet peeve here …)

Yes, every office has one, sometimes two, and I know, for my part, I do a lot of surreptitious eye rolling, but my mother always told me, “If you can’t say something nice…(bang your head against the wall until you get a nice buzz?) say nothing at all. So, being the good girl, (no, this is not the chance for YOU to roll your eyes!) I don’t. That’s not to say I don’t go home at the end of the day and mutter uselessly to my flat mate; still, I am ceaselessly amazed at how one human being (so called) can be so cynical, depressing, and, on the whole, miserable to be around.

Ok, true, they may be dealing with something I can’t even imagine, or care to imagine. They may have a medical condition that causes them to be perpetually potty-mouthed, or they may have never been truly happy a day in their lives, even if they wanted to be, but they still annoy, irritate, and befuddle ( there’s a word!) So I try all the typical and sometimes atypical tricks to try to lift them out of their melancholy: I listen to their inane prattling even when I’m busy doing other things (I know…that sounds oddly familiar doesn’t it?), I try to gentle reassure or encourage them, I even might go so far as to bring them a Gratitude Journal and explain how writing down just one or two things a day that they are thankful for might go a long way in helping them realize that they are truly blessed, (which is a prime opportunity for THEM to roll their eyes at ME, by the way) Or I ply them with one of my personal favourites: Hemp Hogs.

What the Harry Potter is a Hemp Hog, you ask? MMmmmm!!! A Hemp Hog is a delicious little milk chocolate truffle made with hemp nut cream filling. This chocolate is high in/on Omega 3’s, 6’s and protein…it’s sweet and creamy, and oh so chocolaty….so if you simply gotta have a chocolate…..

Where was I? Oh yes, the curmudgeon. Needless to say, they took the candy, but didn’t take the hint (s).

So I guess this person is just a misery-grouse and there’s nothing I can do. I just have to put up with it (and reserve my spot on the wall for repeated head-banging) (although not to Marilyn Mason)(anymore)(that can give you nose bleeds, but I digress….)

Being a decent person, I decided to say a prayer for this sad, little soul. Another thing my mother always said to do (no, I didn’t ALWAYS do everything my mother told me to, but those are quite a few other posts!) So I prayed for their happiness, if they could find some, maybe, possibly, please!!!…..and then it hit me. A Revelation.

Maybe the person who drives me crazy every day is that way for a reason. Maybe they are miserable to show me how NOT to be. Maybe they are joyless to remind me how much I have to be joyful about. (sorry, I know I shouldn’t end on a preposition) Maybe they are sad, bitter and resentful to prompt me to be thankful. Maybe God, in His infinite wisdom, is using this person every day to teach others…to teach me! And if that’s the case, if He can use the office wet blanket, how can/is He using me?

My point?  I suppose I won’t be saying “No More Hemp Hogs for Mr. Nasty”

~Morgan~

Musings (About a Muse) – #Thoughts on #Inspiration and Nothing at all

08 Thursday Jul 2021

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So yes, here I am, 1:45 in the morning, wide awake, bursting with words, poems rhyming, chapters swimming, thoughts reeling, images filling my mind’s eye, so I really don’t have any alternatives other than to (theoretically) grab paper and pencil, Ie. My laptop, and create as much as I am able. To paraphrase the Master ( yep, Shakespeare again….don’t roll your eyes, its relevant, I swear!)
When Inspiration comes it comes not single spies, but in battalions! Yes, it certainly does.

There, then, that wasn’t so bad… was it?

I recently told a friend that I have far more uses for the wee hours of the night than I could even conceive of having for the early hours of the morning. I’m a “Night Person”, have been since the day I was born…or rather, the night I was born. 10:45pm to be exact. A perfect time of night! Deliciously dark, bathed in moonlight, yet early enough to still find or create some form of mischief, and not so late (or perhaps I should say early) that the morning is already tinting the horizon with lavender and gray and your head goes nodding…..

She walks in beauty, like the night. No you’re not sleeping or dreaming….but to regain my thread, I am what the Greeks used to call a Moon Goddess, (although I cannot recall ever having been worshipped before), and I am much happier in darkness than in daylight. (When I say darkness, of course, I mean nighttime…)

So my point? Nope, don’t really have one, actually. I warned you about this early on…Indeed I believe it was my very first post. I sometimes just muse, ramble, prattle, and precious little can or does stop me when this happens. I could fabricate a purpose for all these words spilling out of me, but in all honesty, I don’t have one. Just couldn’t sleep. Too much of him in my thoughts, too many what about’s, what if’s, maybe I could’s. If you’re a writer, than I know you can relate, on some level. If you’re not a writer…than I offer my profoundest, most sincerest apologies for what must seem like out-and-out insanity.

As an act of contrition, (as I feel I at least owe you that much) I offer these few rhymed lines…something that just popped into my head. Hopefully, you will find it in your heart to forgive me.

Persuasion by a simple smile
You are all temptation and guile
Entwining me in your most intricate ruse
Day and Night, you are my Muse.

Sorry, that’s all I got…(I told you it just popped into my head!)…my brain is finally spiraling downward, longing for my pillow, and dreams….
(But I promise, I’ll finish it and post it later….)
Night Night! (Oh and Thanks for listening!)

~Morgan~

Annoyingly Effervescent – The #InternalDialog Vs. #External #Challenges

23 Wednesday Jun 2021

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Laughter Yoga

Someone told me the other day, (believe it or not), that I should be a bit more quiet, tone it down, reel it in, (shocking, I know!), and I was left staring at “said person” in utter amazement, not to mention bewilderment.

It’s difficult for me to explain how inane a suggestion this truly is, unless you know me, then you completely understand, but suffice it to say that this is like suggesting to a vegetarian that they should try hamster BBQ because they really might quite like it! I’m not saying that I’m in any way one of those persons who suffers from excessive personality (syndrome), not at all. I’m sure you know the type, one of those who shows up 20 minutes late even though they appear to recently have ingested, at the very least, enough caffeine to fuel the next flight to the moon; and I certainly am not one of those that shows up and shows out, licks everyone’s elbow, pats every bum, and generally makes a showy noise of themselves..nope, not me at all. I beg to differ. Quite the opposite, really.

However I do confess to a particular cheekiness (or impishness) that some less than cheerful souls might consider irritating, exasperating, even confusing; particularly because I simply love to throw a smile and a giggle in for good measure when I can see it’s the last thing in the world the person I’m conversing with would normally do. (You know how deviously satisfying it is to be excessively pleasant to someone who is exceedingly disagreeable, I know you do!)

Yep, Architect of Antics, that’s me! Prompter of Playfulness. Instigator of Insanity (comparatively speaking) After all, if you can’t laugh, why live? Why breathe? Why look at this goodly frame, the earth …this most excellent canopy, the air,… this brave o’erhanging firmament, this majestical roof fretted with golden fire, …(if all you are willing to see is)… a foul and pestilent congregation of vapors. (Yes yes, Hamlet again… but I promise I won’t digress any farther, it just illustrated my point so well!)

Now, I will admit that I do have the ability to prattle on about nothing in particular with little or no contribution from anyone else, and (as I am sure you are already very well aware) I can write about anything or nothing the day long, but, in all honesty, it isn’t because I’m flighty, preposterous, or feather-brained (“Sometimes people without brains do an awful lot of talking, don’t they”)(No that wasn’t Hamlet, THAT was The Scarecrow from the Wizard of Oz, silly!) or because I simply like to hear the sound of my own voice…no, I have a brain, I assure you, honestly, trust me, (but the internal mechanics and knowledge of my mind are yet another post…)(Did I hear you shout amen?!)

I simply prefer to be happy.

I prefer to share the joy of living that overflows inside me; to give someone a smile for no apparent reason; to step even slightly out of my way to bestow a kindness, if only to see how they react with amazement or bewilderment and then smile back because happiness is, in actuality, infectious. Why not? Doesn’t it beat the alternative: waking up in the morning with a growl (ok, unless it’s before 5am, then growling isn’t necessarily the only thing I’m apt to do), arriving at work with a snarl (again…unless it’s before 5am!) and spending the foreseeable future, for all intents and purposes, mating with maliciousness?
So for someone to suggest that I should put a damper on that buoyant side of my nature is like trying to suggest to the wind that it really ought not blow in a certain direction, or for the tide to simply not rise or fall.

I’m Bubbly, ebullient, vivacious, perhaps even somewhat sagacious….ok and maybe, potentially, ever so slightly, annoying effervescent.

laughter

~Morgan~
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Images found on Google Image search

#Rain – A #Poets View of #Weather and #Life

21 Monday Jun 2021

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Rain.

It is a beautiful thing. There are so many types of rain, really, and I couldn’t tell you which sort I prefer more (unless we are including the fluffy, white, frozen variety that I love most of all, in copious quantities, as frequently as possible.)
Silver Greenery

There’s the light, misty kind that I tend to envision whenever someone talks about Great Britain. That type of drizzly, foggy rain that hangs over the landscape, penetrating every crevice, enveloping whatever it touches in a hazy shroud, and leaving ten thousand beads of incandescent diamonds in its wake that sparkle and scintillate when the light reappears. (Sounds divine, doesn’t it?) Oh, it’s also that deceptively inconsequential form of rain that doesn’t look like much until you walk out in it without your bumbershoot.
Mists

There’s the freezing drizzle, or frizzle; that sinister variety of rain that usually arrives overnight and surreptitiously transforms the garden path, car park, or the front steps into a skating arena suitable only for Olympic athleticism. It’s that quirky classification of rain that warps and blurs everything into unrealistic, Photoshop-worthy deviations of reality that makes most of us grab our camera’s (ie. Phones) to record and share the surreal, Dr Suess-iness of it all. This category of precipitation doesn’t initially impress either, so you generally disregard it until you have to go out and then promptly wind up on your arse.
Winter's Icy Grip

There are a myriad classifications of thunderstorms as well. Those that pop up in the middle of a sweltering, summer day just long enough to make us all run for cover; the kind that create a lot of noise for 20 minutes and then disappear into a haze of steam. There are those that roll overhead in the hiatus of evening, fast and furious, full of sound and fury, (signifying nothing?) that do little more than make a mess, generally. And then there are those magnificent, cacophonous, tempests that jar you from sound sleep in the middle of the night with ear-splitting thunder and shocks of lightening that leave you wondering if you couldn’t hide under the bed with the cat.
Lightening

There’s also the awe-inspiring, stop-you-dead-in-your-tracks kind of rain that makes you stare out the window in astonishment, forces you off the road in your car because you can’t see one inch ahead or behind, and makes you wonder for a fleeing, transitory moment if there isn’t an arc being built someplace nearby that you perhaps ought to be booking passage on: those torrential downpours of cats and dogs (and monkeys.)
pouring-rain

Then there’s the steady, pervasive, day-long kind of rain that sweeps over the earth, softly falling hour by hour, never flooding, never rumbling, never wreaking havoc. This is the kind of rain that looks like a painting by Monet or Van Gough; that smells so sweet you inhale the scent of it deeply and can’t help sighing. It’s also that sort of precipitation that makes you want to pull off your shoes like a child, go out and splash in the puddles.
Gentle Rain

We can’t control the rain; what kind of rain it is, how hard it falls or for how long, but we can control how we respond to it so that we neither wind up soaking wet wishing we had protection from the rain, staring in dumb-struck wonder at the rain fearing what might happen next, nor landing on our arses because the unanticipated variability of the rain caught us completely off guard. Rather, we can stop to enjoy the rain, inhale deeply, and allow ourselves to be refreshed and renewed before we plod on.

Rainbow

~Morgan!
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Images found on Google

Pennies for Every Occasion – #MeditativeThinking for #ChangingTimes

19 Saturday Jun 2021

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Pennies for Every Occassion
Pennies for Every Occasion

Like Chinese water torture, the steady drip, drip, drip of thoughts in my mind is inescapable, inevitable, irrepressible and yet, I cannot imagine life without the unceasing narrative that runs the (hamster?) wheel of my mind. It doesn’t really matter what I see: good, bad, beautiful, ugly, frightening, funny, or Hallmark-worthy tear-jerking, the window of my imagination opens and the gale force bluster of my thoughts comes rushing in, scattering the gloom of the mundane like inconsequential pages.

Often, I hear the echoes of Shakespeare, words I hold so dear, (but I promise I won’t subject you to again,…not yet) repeating, repeating, repeating with unrivaled dramatic flare. Other times it’s the annoyingly simplistic verse of a song I can’t quite recall, so I keep getting stuck at the quintessential moment and am forced to repeat, repeat, repeat whether I like it or not. (You can relate, I know you can!) Most of the time, however, I’m submersed in the spell-binding thespian exploits of one of my favorite actors, (that moment when the actor steps beyond his customary offerings and reveals something far more indescribable than you ever anticipated) and suddenly I find myself cast adrift on a sea of words and poetic phrases. It’s at that moment that I have a choice. I am forced to either press pause/ignore what’s happening on the big screen, grab a pen/pencil/or reach for my keyboard and scribble/type furiously before the inspiration is lost, or I kick myself later for not having done the latter.

These little treasures of thoughts would fill coin purse after coin purse if I had collected them all as such. Unfortunately however, (and I’m sure you are familiar with this predicament) I’ve kicked myself more often than I’ve jumped out of bed, paused the DVD, or thrown my hands over the mouth of person I’m talking/listening to. Nevertheless, I always have a few pennies lying about somewhere for every occasion and the following is a brief offering…(since brevity is the soul of wit) (sorry, yes, I know I promised, but it’s nearly as impossible for me not to incorporate Shakespeare into what I’m talking or writing about as it is for me to keep the window of my imagination closed and block out the wind!)

Words are spoken, heard, seen, performed, felt and dreamed.

Family is treasure. Gold is just metal.

Love is the most desirable source of pain.

Soul mates know each other, even before they meet.

One is two halves existing together in perfect harmony. Half of one is the loneliest number.

Inspiration mirrors breathing, it happens without you ever thinking about it and is equally as vital.

Giggles breed.

Shadows lurk beneath even the brightest illumination.

Friends don’t let Friends fall down alone.

Loss is just an opportunity for gain.

A child’s laughter is a language every person on Earth understands.

(Please share YOUR Pennies for Every Occasion in the comments cup below 🙂

~Morgan~
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Image found on Google

Sleeping with the “Enemy”- A Thought About #ChangingPerspectives

10 Thursday Jun 2021

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spider

Sleeping with the Enemy

Let me begin by saying that I am arachnophobic. Always have been, always will be. I’m that person that goes into an unparalleled fit of screaming, shaking, and running in the opposite direction whenever those creepy-crawly eight legged monsters are around. I’m the person who wakes up in the middle of the night and strips her bed to the bare bones to make sure there isn’t one or millions of those hairy, spindly, multi-legged freaks somewhere amongst the covers. Or under the bed. Or on any of the coordinating furniture. Or lying in wait on the drapes until I go back to sleep, so it can then descend on me in the darkness of night to send me into the aforementioned paroxysm. I’m also the person who once had to single-handedly dispatch a gargantuan, tarantula sized, octoplet-limbed creature of terror who had taken up residence in my bathtub!!! (insert frenzied shrieking here!)

Fast forward now, from that ghastly day, to this morning where you will find me (hypothetically speaking) lying in my bed, dreaming sweet dreams without care; dozing the morning away because it’s finally a Saturday and I don’t HAVE to get up early. (and the congregation shouts AMEN!) I wake up, lazily search for the clock, realize it’s not even 8 AM, smile triumphantly, roll over and promptly resume my reverie. My mind drifts aimlessly through wisps of dreams still clinging to my memory; lingers over musings of hazy imaginings and teeters on the pinnacle between conscious thought and transcendental hyperbole.…until, at last, I open my eyes and stare at the ceiling… you know the sensation…trying to remember what planet I’m on.

My thoughts shift from mystical to rational, (darn it!) I begin to strategically plan out my day, workout and the subsequent primping and preening that follows, breakfast, errands, financial concerns, laundry…yeck! Oh To sleep, perchance to dream! (sorry, snuck some Shakespeare in there on ya!) But this fair thought, now ended; I must rouse myself to the full and stumble on…( that part’s not Shakespeare, that’s me being “poetic”. Shakespeare always merits Italics) So, up I get and up gets the cat (his name is Little Orange Pooz, but that’s yet another post). I turn to make up the bed and then I SEE IT! A black, fuzzy, eight-legged beastie fully the size of a quarter (OR for my British friends, a one pound coin) sitting on my curtain just above my pillow !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Typically, this is the instant where the heebie-jeebies take over, the moment when rationale goes out the window and an inescapable spasm of insanity runs riot over me. I stare in dismay, but to my utter bewilderment and astonishment, I neither freak nor flee. Rather, although I have no comprehension of why, I stand there, LEAN CLOSER, and gaze at this little furry monster more intently. I can see he’s not moving; he’s almost curled up, and for half of a fleeting second I almost smile!!! He’s sleeping! Is he dreaming? What does a spider dream about, I wonder paradoxically. Does he dream about dropping down from the ceiling in the middle of the night onto unsuspecting, sleeping young women to send them into riotous fits of irrational fear all for the sheer hilarity of it?

Who cares!!!! I shake myself…it’s a spider!!! In any other situation, I would instantaneously grab the nearest shoe and start screechin’ n’ swingin’! But, instead, I find myself walking calmly (albeit briskly) to the laundry cupboard, retrieving a duster (a long handled one to be sure!), and returning to the scene of the crime to patiently coax this denizen of hideousness onto the fluffy fibers of his waiting conveyance so I can carry him (once again, at a BRISK pace) to the door and deposit him on the first green growing thing I can find.

Ok….what’s the deal? How can this be? What alternate reality did I wake to this morning that would find me inquisitively regarding and then effectively sparing the life of my lifelong nemesis and archenemy? Is there some lucid explanation for this, otherwise, inexplicable deviation from the norm? I spend the next several hours musing over the possibilities. It could be simply that I hadn’t yet had a sufficient intake of caffeine, was still half asleep and not thinking clearly. Or it could be, perhaps, that I was so surprised I didn’t have time to think about it, really, completely. Or my body could have been taken over by aliens in the middle of the night and I was under some form of extra-terrestrial manipulation!

No, I guess not.

I guess the most likely, if least appealing, explanation is that I’ve changed somehow, in some way as yet not quite realized, or at least not quite realized until this morning, and I’m left to wonder… Is it possible that change isn’t as tedious and complicated as we always think it will be? Perhaps, every now and then, change comes quietly, when we least expect it, like a furry, not so little, spider tiptoeing into our room without us even noticing it. Curling up beside us while we’re not paying attention, it lies, waiting to be discovered and, ultimately, it transforms us into someone we barely guessed we could be.

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~Morgan~

BnV???- A #Blog About #Words, #Shakespeare, #Poetry, #Positivity and so much More!

08 Tuesday Jun 2021

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BnV???

So, here we are, post number two already and you’ve come back for more.  More, in spite of the askance glances you may have received or the incredulous responses to your description of your initial experience here to your friends or colleagues or strangers on undergrounds and, yes, perhaps, even against your better judgment.  Yet regardless of your reason(s)… Welcome back intrepid voyager!  And while I cannot offer you a tiny cup of refreshment or a miniscule packet of peanuts to fortify you on your journey, I might just be able to offer a few potential explanations as to why you may be here.

Morbid Curiosity?  A Predilection for the Bizarre?  Sheer Insanity?  Or maybe….just maybe….although you can’t positively say why, you actually enjoyed that preliminary assay into The Book and Volume of this Distracted Globe.  If any of these are the case (and even if they aren’t), let’s get down to it, shall we?  The Book and Volume of this Distracted Globe, Book and Volume, BnV…what does it all mean?  I’m sure you’d love to gain some insight, apparently, since you’re here again (a state of affairs about which I am over the moon, by the way), with that perplexed look on your face.  Lucky for you, I’d love to elucidate on that very topic.  (for clarity’s sake, the BnV topic, not the puzzlement on your face.  We’ll leave that for another post).

First and foremost there’s the obvious (and almost certainly not all that innovative) Hamlet reference (my absolute favourite Shakespeare play ever, of all time, always). For those of you unfamiliar with this marvelous tragedy: the following is Hamlet speaking about his Father, now a ghost, who only just told his horrified son about his foul and most unnatural murder…  (Go ahead, read it…I’ll explain, I promise!)

Ay, thou poor ghost, whilst memory holds a seat In this distracted globe. Remember thee?
Yea, from the table of my memory I’ll wipe away all trivial fond records…
…And thy commandment all alone shall live Within the book and volume of my brain,
Unmix’d with baser matter!

OK, so there you go…(although you had no idea you were going to read Shakespeare tonight and hopefully it wasn’t especially horrific or scarring for you.)  This Distracted Globe is, to put it bluntly, Hamlet’s skull and The Book and Volume is his mind and all that it contains.   So Yes, BnV- otherwise known as Book and Volume- is my brain, in all its splendid absurdity and eccentricity poured out for you…yes YOU…on the pages of this otherwise non-descript little blog.

I know…its positively intoxicating (or potentially terrifying), isn’t it?

Secondly, ( you forgot already, didn’t you, that I was talking about the blog and not the whirlings of my  mind) , BnV is a blog about nothing and everything, about the commonplace and the atypical; it’s a place where you may find poetry I’ve woven or tales I’ve spun;  it’s a place for me to share insights (or revelations, as I like to call them ) that I might have on any given day (which, with any luck, will hold some significance for you as well and not leave you sitting there wondering, yet again, what exactly it is that I’m blathering on about.)  Visiting BnV could also lead you to discover a new recipe I’ve created or could find you reading all about some character I’ve come across or created, or why I loved, hated or generally became nauseated by the latest flick I’ve seen or book I’ve read (although I am more often found writing my own rather than reading one by another). Potentially, you could also find yourself looking at a pictorial review of my day, should I have the most inconceivable impediment imaginable and find myself without anything to say (which, if you know me at all or even if you are just getting to know me is something you must be quite certain never happens).

So, BnV?  Yes.  And now you know why….or why not.

The Book and Volume of this Distracted Globe -#A #Blog’s Humble Beginning

06 Sunday Jun 2021

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In Honor of BooknVolume’s Eight Blogoversary I am re-posting the very first post that brought us all together….

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The Book and Volume of This Distracted Globe

Or Book and Volume

Or BnV

Admittedly, I am an amateur.  Sure, I’ve heard about blogs for years, heard people talking about posts round the proverbial water cooler, but I’ve never actually read one.  Nope, not a single one, but I know how to spin a tale; I understand and appreciate the basics of English grammar (although I don’t always obey proper form and I do love a split infinitive) so I thought, why not?  Give it a go.  Have a bash, what’s to lose, really?  Bit of time.  After all, how hard could it be, sitting at my laptop listening to the sounds of the ocean, or a nice thundery rainstorm, or the ethereal music of Delirium all thanks to the wellspring we know as You Tube.  And even If the only person who finds said blog interesting, amusing or, if I’m lucky, entertaining, should be me than that’s just splendid; because if you can’t take a little time out of your day to amuse yourself, then perhaps you’re taking things a bit too seriously. (but I digress)

So here it is, entry one.  Or post number one.  Or what have you.  Now, for those of you who do not know me (yet) perhaps this would be an opportune moment to insert some sort of disclaimer, alert you to some of my comparatively annoying idiosyncrasies, and enlighten you to some of my peculiarities. (Most of these are one in the same by the way)  So here goes: first and foremost I’m a word enthusiast, aficionado, and devotee.  I love, admire, aspire to emulate and find myself positively piqued (by) Shakespeare, Dickens, Austin, Blake, Poe, or the like.  Odd, perchance, but I’m quite certain you’ve probably already ascertained this for yourself.  Yes, words….words….words.. (to quote the Master).  They fill me with inspiration, they bring me to tears or sometimes they make me LOL, ….they can often, also, bore me to bits (insert government or math related blather here).   So you may find yourself reading ten pages of paragraph long sentences brimming over with 6 syllable words just to find out that all I’ve really said is I don’t actually have anything to say.  Yeah, I’m good at that.

I should also probably warn you that, although I find a great many things interesting and will, most likely, remark on any number of them in a given post, I don’t have a particular objective in mind ( at this point anyway) for this blog.  Variety is the spice of life after all, so one never knows what I may sit down and prattle on about, at length, mayhap insipidly, but at the very least ( and dare I say, hopefully!) you won’t find yourself feeling preached at when you’ve reached the end.  That, you may be sure, is not my intention.

So there you are and here I am, two partners in time; one sharing, one gaining (little or nothing, but perhaps at least a smile…if I am successful) giving and receiving, for better or for worse….(yes, I see the direction this metaphorical segment is taking and I would break off, but where this is going illustrates so well another of my quirks, which is, though I hate to admit it, that I do tend to find meaning in even the simplest things)…so to get back to my metaphor… if you think about it, being a writer and a reader is rather like being in a relationship ( I was going to use the M word, but we barely know each other yet).  There’s good, there’s bad, there’s mutual intrigue, there are laughs and tears, arguments and betrayals of one form or another, but in the end, it’s generally worthwhile.  (there, that wasn’t too bad, was it?)

Ok, so you’ve read four paragraphs now and, although I’m only going on instinct, I’m thinking I should probably begin to wrap this up.  Not very educational, to be sure; not very interesting, conceivably, but maybe, just maybe, when you are at work tomorrow talking to your friends ( or if you haven’t any of those at your job ) your colleagues, or when you’re stuck in traffic on your way in or way home talking to one of the aforementioned on your cell, or when you’re chatting with some stranger you just met on the tube, you might just tell them about what you did last night.

How you were sitting at your computer/laptop/iPad/electronic devise of some sort, bored with the mundane, hum-drumness of Facebook and Twitter and you decided, (possibly against better judgment), to strike out on your own.  It was then that you happened upon the most… (insert adjective of your choice here) (yes, interactive blog….nifty, eh?)… blog you’ve ever read in your life and, although you’re not sure if it was about anything in particular, you did have a laugh once or twice, but it didn’t last long and, while it seemed inane at the time and, although you thought you’d never be interested in reading it again, you can’t stop thinking about it.  In fact, you can’t even say why.  What you can say is that the author might just possibly be off her hinges, one pie short of a picnic, not quite reaching warp speed; still, she had a way of writing that made you want to read more….maybe,…although you can’t be certain because there was only one entry.   And now you’re left with the most annoying set of circumstances imaginable because all you really want to know is, what the heck is she going to be nattering on about next?

~Morgan~

The Gift – #Thoughts for #Christmas and #Renewal

25 Friday Dec 2020

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My thoughts this morning were swimming, I do confess it. Swimming in the deep end of the pool, where I often do not stray, at least, not without one of those little blow up rubber duckey thingies.

In an attempt to re-center myself, I began to pray, as I often do when my thoughts go out the window. It is my meditation. My Source and Strength, and very often, my Inspiration. Considering the time of year, I let my thoughts focus on the Light coming into the world and the Opportunity that came into the world with it; opportunity for Renewal and Hope, for the Rekindling of Love and Compassion, and the beginning of something indescribable that would, ultimately, change the world forever. A Miracle, perhaps? A Transformation in the onset. A Revolution, some may say.

As my thoughts continued to focus, the Light became a bit too intense and made me squint; resulting in a slightly different perspective. You know how it is, I’m sure. Rather like looking at the Christmas Tree, or perhaps a candle or the moon, and squinting in order to turn the solid light into something sparkly, incandescent and somehow, more beautiful. In doing so, you see the entire Source differently, don’t you? Thus as I pondered, and my mind circumspectly wandered, (Poe-like, perhaps) a thought stepped out from the sparkling light to present itself for consideration.

The Book of Revelations: a mighty paradoxical and quizzical conundrum of words and phrases, largely incomprehensible, at least to me. (walk with me for a moment, I promise, I’ll come back round to my point in a moment). Odd, that a book, which is, by and large, poetic and metaphoric in nature, should confound me, a writer of, by and large, poetic and metaphoric writings, but perhaps that is the Paradox. Maybe. What if I’ve been reading this last book of The Bible all these years, desperately trying too make heads or tails out of it and failing because I’m …well, trying to make sense of it. What if this book is a book of poetry? A Verse (or twenty odd verses) written by a poet who had no understanding about what he was writing? What if I need to look at all the prophecy, the doom and gloom, chaos and calamity from the point of view of someone trying to describe something they cannot describe (rather like me right now).

This made me pause. (things to make you go “hmmmm?”) I might be barking up the wrong tree here, lost in the woods, wandering in circles, off the beaten path, but follow me for a moment, please; there might be light at the end of this tunnel. What if, instead of an apocalypse happening at some distant point in time that will cause despair and fear and turmoil, wars and disease, famine and natural catastrophes; what if all of it is already happening? What if the descriptions of The End Times in Revelations are merely an account of dreadful occurrences that are beyond the comprehension of someone living in a time when simplicity and homegrown remedies were the be all and end all of wisdom? (a lot of what if’s, to be sure!)

So what happens next? Does The Anointed One return, walking upon a cloud of smoke and fire, bearing The Light of all Light and Transforming the world in one fell swoop? Or is this description also an attempt to describe the indescribable? The unfathomable. What if, instead, The Return is more a Renewal? A Rekindling of Mind, Perception, Understanding; of Body, not just physical health, but a change in Attitude, Action, and Purpose; and of Spirit, Compassion, Empathy, Acceptance in Love and Service to others? A Renewal that will change the world into an Earthly Paradise where Peace and Harmony, Love and Joy will Co-Exist freely; where the lion will lie down with the lamb, or, to say it another way, where those who once hated and exploited, through a Miraculous Transformation of Mind, Body and Spirit brought on by a Return to The Light and The Source, will work with, for and beside those they once oppressed.

(is your head spinning yet, because mine still is!)

In this Season of Renewal, when a Miracle entered the world to offer Light and Life to All, wouldn’t it be Rapturous, indeed, to accept this Precious Gift given so selflessly? To decide not to wait on what someone else might do, but walk boldly into the future with a renewed sense of Purpose and direction; with a transformed opinion about the world and those with whom we share it; with a Rekindled Love that reaches across boundaries and beyond prejudice. Utopianism? Perhaps. But wouldn’t such a change be a Revelation? Wouldn’t it, eventually, alter the entire world? Wouldn’t it be, somewhat, apocalyptic, if there were a best sense to that word?

~Morgan~

Beauty in Words – #Motivational Thoughts on #Poetry and #Writing

17 Thursday Sep 2020

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hades_and_persephone_2_by_sandara

Poetry is the Rhythmical Creation of Beauty in Words.
Edgar Allan Poe

Need anything more truly be said? And yet, since I have the inclination to natter, I shall attempt to agree, poetically.

And by agreeing to say that there is nothing worth saying that could ever be said, even in the starkest form, that is not, by some measure and in the generalist terms, some form of poetic entrancement. For if, in speaking or writing, we utter anything at all worth saying, it shall be remembered.  If something is remembered,  then, it can be considered remarkable enough to have made remembrance worthwhile, which leads one to the eventual conclusion that, if it is worthwhile to be recollected, there must be some form or nature in it that catches the imagination, sparks the well-spring of contemplation or illuminates musings.  Also that, being colourfully or creatively inspired is, in its most basic state, a creation of beautiful words that should be deemed poetry.

(excuse me while I gasp for breath!)

Having said as much, of course the opposite is also true and begs to be argued: that the inestimably horrible, atrocious and staggeringly inane is also imprinted upon our minds in a similar fashion as the most lovely sonnet or passing fair soliloquy.  To follow this particular train of rationale to its logical yet absurd conclusion, it must therefore also be considered a form of poetry; although some (including myself) would vehemently argue that such assaults on the psyche are hardly worthy of the title. Yet to be fair and even-handed it must be stipulated.

(Ok I promise, no more caffeine for me tonight!)

Alas, (and perhaps alack for me), and all those who call themselves Poet, to be mixed with such baser matter that we may, at some time and under some inexplicable circumstance, undertake to pen such phrases that I (and perhaps you as well) would never, willingly, undertake to read or promote.  Nevertheless, where there is one there is always the other.  Where there is Light, there is dark. Where there is Good, there is also Bad. (Where there is Chocolate, there is also Vanilla.) And although some may argue that one man’s terrorist is another man’s freedom fighter (with which I should in most cases concur) I cannot in good conscience agree with the subsequent postulation that all poetry, despite its thematic structure or outpouring is, by its very nature, Beauty in Words.

Where does that leave us then? You may ask with that quizzical expression, yet again, upon your face? (which does tend to happen when I start whirling words)

I return to Poe, master (as I see it) of both sides of the poetic coin, who said: Words have no power to impress the mind without the exquisite horror of their reality. Edgar Allan Poe

And thus, by saying that there is always Light and Dark, Right and Wrong, Beauty and Ugliness, is to say there is, or at least should be, Balance in everything. But to let one side of the coin rule the other, to let the darkness overshadow the light, or to let the atrocities to over rule the kindness is to live out of joint, which bring me to Hamlet (naturally, though you may argue that bringing Shakespeare into nearly every conversation is, by no means, natural) who said: “Time is out of joint. O cursed spite, that ever I was born to set it right.”

And therein lies the paradox, or at least, the challenge. Do I set anything right through the action of my pen?  Do I Shine my Light into the darkness of these current times or do I snuff it out in support of the darkness? Do I Stand on the mountaintop and extol Liberty or do I hide in the safety of my home and shake my head ruefully? Do I proclaim Beauty in my Art with every fiber of my being, or do I bow to the pressure of sales, rating, and stats, producing something other than what would shimmer and glimmer, touch lives and speak quietly to hearts? It is a choice worth considering and a decision well worth making, though some may disagree with my logic and call me as mad as some named (or still named) Hamlet.

~Morgan~
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Beautiful Original Artwork of Hades and Persephone by: *sandara at Deviantart.com

Who is my Neighbor? – #MeditativeThoughts and #Inspriation for#ChallengingTimes

18 Tuesday Aug 2020

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Neighbors

A Friend and I were recently talking about the Amish and Mennonite community, who he described as writing their poetry with the fine works of their hands, rather than with words as he and I do, which I thought was a truly beautiful perspective. I wandered down the path of this perspective, as I am wont to do, and I realized how this is true for most of us, if lyricism or writing, painting and photography are not the gifts to hand. We make our mark on this world, in big and small ways, in lasting ways we little realize, with our words, with our smiles, with our choices, with our convictions, and with our compassion.

As most of you are probably aware, I am Christian by Faith, but I also think outside, above, and on many other sides of the box. I agree with and admire many other philosophies and forms of spiritualism who revere all living creatures and live harmoniously in this world. This appeals to me a great deal and I think this is what Jesus meant when He said “Love your Neighbor as Yourself”. Yet the longer I think about this and wander down the path of musing, I am forced to consider, just who is my neighbor?

Is it the old woman living next door? Is it the young child that runs around in Walmart that others scowl at for making too much noise? Is it the overly obese woman no one wants to look at because society tells us she is ugly and unworthy? Is it the old man with little of his teeth who is standing on the corner with a tin cup hoping for a few coins so he can eat something today? Is it the child whose parents neglect and abuse because they are more interested in drugs? Or is it those same parents? Is it the person of a different nationality than my own whom I cannot understand on the other end of the telephone line who is trying to help me? Is it the young man on a skateboard with his pants half way to his knees and his hat on sideways who I simply cannot relate to? Is it the “crazy” old lady in the mall who is talking to the bench she is sitting on because no one else will talk to her?

Is it the dog that is left to starve because its owners have decided they are tired of it? Is it the cat that is crying on the doorstep because it is cold and hungry? Is it the dolphins being slaughtered by the thousands in Japan? Is it the rhinos being slaughtered in Africa to the point of extinction? Is it the bird I accidentally hit while driving to work or the ants on my porch in the summertime? Is it the Tree that has been growing for hundreds of years that we cut down to make paper that we use to print signs that say Save the Trees? Is it the rivers, lakes and oceans into which toxins and trash are being dumped by the ton?

In my humble opinion: We are All Neighbors in this Living Temple named Earth. Each life, each breath, each rock, each tree, each grain of sand, regardless of colour, creed, nationality, Ancestry (which could possibly make us more related than we think!), fur, scales, 2-4-6-or 8 legs; whether we’ve been here 1 minute or 1000 years.  If we Love our Neighbors as we love ourselves, care for and protect, serve and trust, would not this fearsome, calamitous world become a truly harmonious paradise, where the Lion would indeed lie down with the lamb?

~Morgan~
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Beautiful Image found at: beinspirednow.com

Happy BnVersary BooknVolume! – #BloggingMilestones

03 Wednesday Jun 2020

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SEVEN years? Seven whole years?  Is it even possible? 7 years of endless (well, nearly) blather, prattle, amalgamations, poetically engineered terms, and sentences long enough to make even Charles Dickens envious in a celebration of Words Words Words!

Yes, Indeed!  Today is Booknvolume’s Seventh Anniversary 🙂  Or BnVersary, as I like to say (thus the aforementioned ‘amalgamations’) and I simply had to share the joy!  After all, if you didn’t love words as much as I, you wouldn’t be here; certainly wouldn’t continue to return day after day (or week after week) to see what Morgan is Musing about now.  Perhaps I’m doing something ‘write’; perhaps it’s sheer morbid curiosity on your part; who’s to say, really, but at the end of the day, this non-descript little blog has brought MUCH joy to my life (and hopefully a portion to yours as well) 🙂  You may know me rather well by now. You might be quite familiar with my ramblings, and you may understand exactly how words move my heart and soul (perhaps because they move you similarly) but the following expresses it so well, I simply had to share it (again).  And for those of you who may be new to BnV, this may, perhaps, shed some light into exactly how much I LOVE words.

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…Since my thoughts are flying in a rather confusing array of directions, at least at the present moment, I thought I would preface this post with the aforementioned disclaimer before I end up lost somewhere in the wilds of Uzbekistan with you sitting there with that particularly enchanting, though perhaps somewhat frustrating (at least for you) puzzled expression on your face that most people end up having when they sit down and read one of my whirling words posts, most particularly on night’s such as this when the words are flowing faster than I can logically keep up with, though often, depending upon the moon’s cycle or how much chocolate and/or caffeine I may have had before sitting down to begin writing, it can be a rather bewildering experience; whereat, being the kindhearted soul that I am, and never wishing to intentionally lead someone into a grammatical quagmire, as I am for all intents and purposes a good soul ( though you and I both know that even good souls have halo’s that glow neon red now and again) I generally tend to use this moment of perplexity to point out that I did warn you, my dearest readers, very early on in our relationship (that being the early days of BnV) that I do have the most annoying (or potentially amusing, depending once again upon the aforementioned phase of the moon or how much chocolate or caffeine You’ve ingested before beginning to read) predilection to run off on wild tangents of verbosity that would make even Charles Dickens’s head ache, but let that go.

Word Count: 258
Sentences: 1
Passive Sentences: 0
Flesch-Kincaid Grade Level 52.2 …. YES!!!!!!!!!!! (My work here is done, thank you)

It is moments such as this that give me the oddest, yet greatest pleasure and were during my high school years, amusingly, opportunities for me to stretch my writing skills to such degrees that my English professor ( a very good soul indeed who loved words nearly as much as I did/do) resorted to noting that my fondness for crafting compound-complex sentences on the backs of my test papers during the remaining time I had in class (because I often finished the tests early, being rather good in English class, perhaps not entirely surprisingly) and then diagramming them for the sheer delight of doing so was, in his opinion, a very strong indicator that I had, either, some form of mental derangement not yet diagnosed, or, I was a word-smith in the making. (oooo Flesch-Kincaid Grade Level 53.8! Marvelous! )

You may at this moment tend to agree and I would not argue the fact, but before I leave you with a beautifully muddled expression, please allow me Bestow this final thought:

To Write; To Paint with Words as an Artist Bedecks his canvas with hues and shades and layers of pigmentation; To Sing a Melody upon which the gaze may Linger and over which the Heart may Muse again and again: To Create visual Splendour with grammar and language that is, perhaps, fundamentally underutilized or neglected ( and to use Capitalization in the most maddening, although previously explained, manner), to me, is the most Beguiling form of Intoxication in which I could ever take Pleasure and, for you, Dear Intrepid Reader, to Undertake the Journey; to Brave the Frontier of Superfluous Verbosity and reach the shore with a Smile (though, perchance, to some extent exhausted), is, Hopefully, far more Rewarding an Endeavor than many.

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I hope you enjoyed this Superfluous Verbosity and will continue to do so during the days, weeks, and hopefully years to come!  After all, without YOU my dear followers and intrepid readers, BnV would simply NOT BE!

Thank YOU for Sharing the Journey with me.

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~Morgan~

Whispering Serenity- #A Boring Moment -#COVID-19 #Meditations of #Hope

22 Friday May 2020

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Cast the brazen rush of thoughts,

A churning tempest in your mind,

Unto the Solitary wind,

Whispers of Serenity there to Find.

Be Calm among the restless throng

Thrashing in the maddening churn;

Serenity Whispers Quietly

From the Hush of starlight as it burns.

Loose the shackles of dismay

That bind your hands and feet;

Fall into Serenity Whispering

From the garden of moonlight, Smiling Sweet.

Listen not to the wrathsome noise;

Sigh deep and long as the chaos whirls;

Listen to Serenity Whispering

As Tranquility Gently unfurls.

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Today’s world of rush and hurry, of frenzied business and over-scheduling and impatience may have been calmed, slightly, by the blight of COVID, but the tumultuous storm of social media that has spewed outward in its wake can still leave our spirits needing.  Although it is difficult to avoid, this calamity of chaos can be balanced through the deliberate seeking of Quietness and Calmness, and one does not need a strict regimen of yoga or meditation in order to find it.  What is required, however, is a decision.

Deciding to choose a few moments of Quietness in place of turning on the telly or switching on your playlist can, at first, seem just as challenging as the aforementioned yoga.  Electing to go outside to sit Quietly beneath the stars may sound monumentally boring, and choosing to stay home rather than running out early to grab that over-caffeinated, sugar-infused, powerhouse beverage might lead you to wonder if you’ll stay awake long enough to accomplish the 101 things on your To Do List, BUT the benefits of Quietness and Calmness cannot be overstated.

I recently found myself beside a pristine lake surrounded by acres upon acres of woodland, a crystalline cerulean sky stretching out overhead.  The Quietness and Calmness of that place filled me more sweetly and far more intoxicatingly than the finest wine and the peace that environment suffused into me has lasted days later.  I sat with eyes closed, listening in bewitched breathlessness to the Hush; the whispering wind as it swept its hands through the tawny hair of the bordering trees; the mesmerizing ripples of unobtrusively  burbling water; the laughter of waterfowl praising the golden sunlight and the tambourine chatter of dried leaves tumbling over flaxen grasses.  The Quietness and Calmness filled my senses with Serenity that soothed unlike anything else might, sharing its precepts unforgettably.

All that is required is a decision.

Stop

Close your eyes

breathe

Hear

You may be surprised just how restful a boring moment can truly be !

 

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~Morgan~

Dare to Love – #Meditations for #ChallengingTimes- #COVID-19

10 Friday Apr 2020

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Dark Alley

When all the world is closing in and fear and doubt hang like rhapsody in enigmatic terror, life becomes a whirlwind that can easily lead you, twisting and turning, down the wrong alleyways; stumbling into darkness even before realizing. Labyrinth of confusion; darkness leading into darkness, grasping and pulling at your legs, tripping you, entwining you, making you stumble, making you fall. Uncertainty follows close on confusion’s heels, making each step more baffling than the last, as you try to see in the dimness, seeking a way out, but paradoxical conundrum leads down unfamiliar avenues and before you realize your mistake, you find yourself entirely lost.

Alone in the murk of restive passages and upon unhallowed ground, you creep in bitter incongruity; as the enemy closes in on all sides, taunting. Two choices face you blatantly: Hide yourself in the unsavory undergrowth or call out for Love. Villains clamor on both sides, seeking exploitation of rash imprudence, derision sharp and caustic, yet tempting intrepidity calls from the shadowy wilderness, luring your brazen boldness until you follow.

Lavish wonders, full of blasphemy; delicious alchemy, wrought with irreverence, toying with your immortal spirit, tattering robes of golden silk spun for you alone as deception breathes contagion. Willing transgression, mortal suffering breeds contempt and blame worse than any torture, more bitter than arsenic. Worthless, reckless, piteous fool; unfit, ungrateful, and filled with greed!

O listen not to your own accusing! Filled with deceit your condemnation is, standing against Love’s every desire to Draw you close, to Lift you up out of the pit of despair into which you’ve fallen.  Your fear and guilt blocks every Blessing Love longs to Bestow.

Turn not aside from Love in sorrow or in guilt. Look not into the darkness seeking sanctuary when Love stands waiting to Hold you and to Restore you. This may seem like blighted perplexity seeking to tarnish thought and cloud sight; yet in your sorrow, lift your head and see Love waiting ever near.  No change is required; no costly alteration is needed, for Love has already Given All that is necessary.

Allow your heart to Love and your soul to sigh with peace.   Walk beside Love, giving of yourself through honesty and integrity and you shall find Blessings and Bounty reserved for you alone.

Streaming Morning Light

~Morgan~
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Dark Alley Photograph found at: http://www.jenningsbigay.com
Streaming Light Photograph found at: http://www.raysmarketplace.com

Music’s Mystery – #Music Inspired #Musings

07 Tuesday Apr 2020

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I’ve heard it said that only human beings have been given the gift of music; that only people create songs, sing and serenade their souls with this most magical and uplifting form of communication and communion. Yet, should we not consider the song of the lark? The haunting ballads of the whales? The mournful call of the wolf? The robin’s lyrical laugh at dawn and dusk? The crickets that serenade the nighttide? The burbles of monkeys swaying in the trees? The laughing of the hyena?

Who is to say that in their melodic tunes, caterwauls, howls, wails, and other worldly vocalizations there is not some measure of music. Why should we be the only ones to sing praise, to croon our love, and to bewail our distress? How can we know, in truth, in honesty, that the deliberate scree of the hawk, the piercing bugle of the elk, the chattering of raccoon and ferret, and the murmurings of infrasonic elephant calls is not music to their ears?

Music is a form of communication that lifts the soul, expresses emotion, and brings one being into contact with another being. If this is, indeed, the definition of music (of which it is a form) then can that being not be one other than human? Does not one wolf join another when it sings? Does not the whale song change season to season and year to year, picked up by another whale to be carried on? Does not one roaring lion inspire the entire pride by its lusty cry?

Consider what the morning would sound like without the sweet music of the birds. Contemplate what the summer night might be when not a single chirrup, trill, drone or buzz lilted through the air. Ponder how deep and lonely the oceans would be without the drifting, breathtaking songs of the whales. Can you even imagine a mountain landscape without hearing the echoing howl of a wolf or the bubbling laugh of the loon?

If these sounds, that can captivate us and uplift our thoughts, our hearts and even our souls, are not music and do not do the same for all those who hear them, regardless of race, than perhaps, we must follow that course of logic and say that cave paintings are not art, tap is not dance, improvisation is not acting and free verse is not poetry.

Or perhaps, Music Teaches the Soul what the Heart Feels and Guides the Heart with what only the Soul can Truly Know.

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~Morgan~