Soul Sunday

Are you passing on love, or are you passing on pain? Heal your pain and pass on love.

Good morning, soulmates. Welcome to Soul Sunday, when our precious little thought museum called Adulting – Second Half, turns towards the emotional conclusion of the week, with our poetry workshop, well into session. What poetry are you going to make with your life today? What stories are you going to add to the rhythm, and to the flair, and to the details of your most incredible, personal creation – the story of your very own, precious life?

My regular readers know that I make reference to “my thought museum” a lot when posting writings on my blog. I would love to have more of your exhibits on loan here. I know that I have quite a few creative, artsy types here, quietly reading. You’ve shown me some delightful glimpses of yourselves, here and there. I feel your presence. And I want you to know that I appreciate it. I appreciate you. Your presence inspires me. You inspire me. I love our warm connection. I love Adulting – Second Half. It is one of my most favorite places on Earth. So in extension, I love you. Please post your poems in my Comments section. Or show us your artwork. I would love to see an artistic rendition of what our shared thought museum looks like visually, or by having it described in words, or in music. Please share. Your outpours are safe here. We have good security guards. (they have white wings) If your ideas are still privately percolating, get them out somewhere, even if it is just in your own personal journals. Your creations deserve some space in this world. Your creations want to come to life. Bring them into the light.

Here’s my poem for today:

Good Riddance

I lost an hour today.

What can I do without an hour of today?

What does wasted time look like? Consider it.

Wasted time looks like a dusty little pile of pointless panderings,

Ruminations of the nasty, negative variety,

Often dwelling in the corners of the angry past,

Or in the entangled cobwebs of the fearful future,

Or in fruitless gossip and judgment, guises of my own insecurities.

I don’t have time for an hour of that dreadful dialog in my head.

I lost an hour today.

Good riddance.

Soul Sunday

Hello to my beautiful, soulmates! On Sundays, we do poetry here at Adulting – Second Half. I write a poem or I share a poem by another poet and I strongly encourage you to share your poems in my Comments section. Sometimes sharing our poems, feels very vulnerable, because sometimes our poems bare our souls. Today, I am feeling light and silly and so my poem for today, reflects that mood. Poems are indeed good mirrors of our inner lives. If you find that you can’t journal every day, try jotting down a daily poem, even just a couple of lines. This practice will tell you a lot about yourself.

As I age, I look for role models, as I have done in every stage of my life. I look at people who seem to age well, and I wonder how to emulate their ability to age so healthfully, and so comfortably and delightfully. Betty White, Iris Apfel, and our neighbor Dave, are all people well past eighty, who look amazing, and still seem to buzz with energy and life, sometimes even more so than their younger peers.

To give you a glimpse of how my curious mind works, and how I even got to writing this particular blog post, I’ll let you know where it started. On Twitter this morning, someone posted a picture of Nat King Cole and his wife, Maria Cole. I found the picture of Maria to be absolutely stunning, so naturally, I looked up more information about her. Maria was also a talented musician, and she raised five children with Nat, until his early death in 1965. Maria went on to live until she was 89 years old. What initially struck me about Maria Cole’s picture, was her huge, radiant smile. It was a constant in almost all of her pictures.

My son once played on a team with another boy whose mother is striking. Granted, this woman is a natural beauty. She is probably about a decade older than me, but she seems to have almost a regality about her. I could never put my finger on why I found her to be so particularly stunning, in a sea of attractive soccer moms, to stand out like she did. Then one day, it occurred to me. Every time that I saw her, she was smiling. She is always smiling. She has a huge smile that is shown in every part of her being and it radiates. I remember thinking that you don’t need plastic surgery or vitamin infusions to remain lovely, as you age. Smiling does so much for anyone, even at the surface level of good looks.

With that being said, here is my poem for today:

The Prescription for Aging Beautifully

If you wish to live a long and happy life,

Peaceful, tranquil, with very little strife,

If a healthy centenarian, is what you wish to be,

With eyes which sparkle with wisdom, mischief and glee,

I have the magic potion, the elixir, the recipe.

Wait for it.

Here it is:

Smile. A lot. Every Single Day.

Just smile, smile, smile the day away.

Smile. 🙂 🙂 🙂 🙂 🙂 🙂

Science has just uncovered another benefit of a happy face. People who have big smiles live longer. (The Dallas Morning News)

One study found that just one smile can give you the immediate happiness of eating 2,000 bars of chocolate — without the stomachache. (Advent Health)

New research finds happier people live longer, on average, while angry ones are more likely to die early. (Pacific Standard)

A study from London University College stated that happy, cheerful people are 35% more likely to live longer. Smiling lowers the heart rate and reduces blood pressure, while relaxing your body. (RiverTea)

The study in Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences found that people who had higher levels of optimism had a longer life span. They also had a greater chance of living past age 85. (Harvard Medical School)

Are you passing on love, or are you passing on pain? Heal your pain and pass on love.

Soul Sunday

Good morning, friends. I think that I will call you “soulmates” on Sundays. Good morning, soulmates. Sundays are usually the most popular day here on the blog. I love that you all are open to poetry. I love that you have helped me to rediscover the poet in me. I hope that you have also discovered (or rediscovered) the poet, in you, as well. Sundays are devoted to the emotional, sometimes non-sensical, mysterious spillage of words called poetry. Please explore the poem which I have written for today, and please also, feel comfortable and safe to share your poems in my Comments section. It has been wonderful sharing this moment with you on this lovely, tranquil day, my beloved soulmates. I look forward to many more connecting moments with you. Peace.

Keeper of the Words

Sometimes the words spill out of me and I can’t contain them.

Depending on how forceful and projectile the emotion is behind them,

The words scramble desperately to find their way on to the screen,

quicker than I can type them into visual form.

Sometimes the words slide out of me and surprise me,

I had no inner rumination of their simmering pot in my conscience.

The words leave me, before I even knew that they were with me.

Sometimes I have no words. I have nothing to write.

Nothing. My inner cache is empty. And that is okay.

When I have nothing to write, it clears the space,

Until the words accumulate again, to fill the void,

As they always do.

The words don’t require my participation,

They only ask for the keys to release them.

When the pressure mounts and the time is ripe,

I generously allow the words to flow out.

I am not the jailer of the words,

I am only their keeper.

Jailers suffocate and diminish and intimidate,

Keepers nurture and protect and trust in growth,

And further, keepers innately know when it is time,

to let their beloved charges fly free.

Are you passing on love, or are you passing on pain? Heal your pain and pass on love.

Soul Sunday

Are you passing on love, or are you passing on pain? Heal your pain and pass on love.

Hello readers! I hope that you are having a lovely weekend, full of delightful surprises and calming rejuvenation and rest. Sundays are devoted to poetry here at Adulting – Second Half. On Sundays I either write a poem or I share a poem, written by another poet, that has moved me. Poetry has the ability to hit the deepest target of emotion, in the most mysterious of ways. Poetry adds magic and alchemy, to otherwise, ordinary words. Please feel safe and comfortable to share your poems in my Comments section. Here is my poem for today:

WITH ME

I am so thankful when you share the deepest part of yourself

with me.

You think that it is too ugly, and tangled, and unguarded, and scary,

to bring it out into the open.

But usually, most ferocious things, tend to get blinded by the light.

And smoldering sadness gets smothered by the love that my heart holds for you.

I love you the most, when you give to me, all of you,

not just the polished, protective surface.

Your deepest part of yourself, is safe, and cherished, and understood, and loved.

I am so thankful when you entrust the deepest part of yourself,

with me.

Your beautiful, fragile, open heart is always safe,

with me.

You are,

with me,

Always. Always,

with me.

Soul Sunday

Happy Valentine’s Day, friends. I know that this holiday can be triggering for some people who are not currently in a romantic relationship. It can even be stressful and awkward for people who are in romantic relationships. I have heard Valentine’s Day discounted as a “Hallmark Holiday” many times over the years. Whatever it means (or doesn’t mean) to you, why not let Valentine’s Day be a day to celebrate the feeling of Love? Why not let it be a reminder to all of us, about just how good it feels to share the realest part of us? We are all made of Love, at our very cores. It feels so good to love our lovers, and our families, and our friends, and our pets, and our homes, and our communities, and our creations, and our vocations, and our vacations, and our hobbies, and our delicacies, and our quiet times, and our crazy times, and ourselves . . . . . Love is the main motivation and reason as to why we really do anything. Maybe on Valentines Day, what we are really celebrating, is the feeling of Love, which is the main reason why we put any effort into living. If nothing else, use this day to give Love back to you. You are full of Love. Love is eternal and always replenishes, so don’t be afraid to share your Love, ever.

My regular readers know that on Sundays I share poems written by me, or by some other poet who has moved me with their words. Please feel free to share your poems in my Comments section. This is a safe spot to share. Below is today’s poem. It is written by a poet who goes by “m.k.”. I think that this poem describes unconditional love, beautifully.

Are you passing on love, or are you passing on pain? Heal your pain and pass on love.

Soul (Super) Sunday

“If the world were merely seductive, that would be easy. If it were merely challenging, that would be no problem. But I arise in the morning torn between a desire to improve (or save) the world and a desire to enjoy (or savor) the world. This makes it hard to plan the day.” – E.B. White

As my regular readers know, Sundays are devoted to poetry here at Adulting – Second Half. On Sundays, I either write a poem or I share a poem written by another poet, which has moved me, deeply. Keep in mind, we are all poets. I would love to see some of your poems in my Comments section. Do not be shy. This is not a critique zone. This is a loving, release zone. Poetry is made of words that are asking to be released, with all of the feeling that gives these very words meaning and momentum.

Today is Super Bowl Sunday. I know that sometimes, some of us self-professed high-minded, serious, spiritual, literary, intellectual types, think that we are “above” such earthly frivolity and carnage. Ha! The Super Bowl is awesome. Even if you are not a football fan, the creativity that goes into the commercials and the half-time show always blows me away! I am so grateful to live in a time period, where I can easily rewind and watch a hilarious commercial, again and again. I never thought that I would live to see the day, that the former sentence that I just wrote, would hold real meaning for me. (grateful to watch commercials again and again, huh?!?) Also, don’t get me started on the singing of the National Anthem. (tissue box is full, and at the ready) And let’s also not get carried away here, discussing Super Bowl food fare. No one sets down a plate of bean sprouts for the Super Bowl. Bean dip, yes! Bean sprouts, no. Eat more chips!!! Eat more wings!! I think that E.B. White (author of the above quote) would choose to make Super Bowl Sunday, a “savor the world” day, no question about it. Savor the world, today, friends, and let’s go Buccaneers!!!!

Today’s poem is someone else’s poem. I love it! Here it is:

Are you passing on love, or are you passing on pain? Heal your pain and pass on love.

Soul Sunday

Are you passing on love, or are you passing on pain? Heal your pain and pass on love.

Good morning, friends. Sundays are devoted to poetry here at Adulting – Second Half. Today, I ask you to take the time to notice the stuff that you don’t typically notice. Notice the unusual color of eyes of the person who waits on you at Walgreens. Notice how perfectly synchronized all of the colors and lengths of hair on your dog’s face, or your cat’s face, come together into perfection and poetry, creating their beautiful expressions of being. When we really notice life, we starting living a beautifully poetic life. Here is my poem for today:

Falling in Love, Again

I love how you still surprise me.

I love that you showed me my favorite peanut butter pie,

even though I could be skinnier.

I love that I was rolling my eyes and watching the clock,

impatient for your movie choice,

And yet, when we watched it, it turned out to be a new favorite of mine.

And you knew that it would be, mate.

I love that you find it vitally important to find new favorites, for me.

It makes me feel vitally important.

I love how you know me so well.

You remind me of everything that I love.

You are my greatest gift.

You make me fall in love with you,

Again and again and again . . . .

Because you make me fall in love with life,

Again and again and again . . . . .

.

Soul Sunday

Are you passing on love, or are you passing on pain? Heal your pain and pass on love. 

Good morning, friends and readers. I hope that this post finds you well, and rested, and peaceful, and hopeful, and thoughtful, and in the moment. My regular readers know that Sundays are devoted entirely to poetry here at Adulting – Second Half. I think that this is fitting, because poetry is the form of writing that is the most closely entwined with our deepest feelings and soul. I was very moved by Amanda Gorman’s recital of her beautiful inauguration poem. I love the ending suggesting that we should be brave enough to be “the light”, which we are all really made of, underneath all of the noise and masks and insecurities and ego. Please, as always, feel safe to share your poetry in my Comments section. I would love to read what your soul has to say today. Here is Amanda Gorman’s poem in written form:

The Hill We Climb by Amanda Gorman

When day comes we ask ourselves,
where can we find light in this never-ending shade?
The loss we carry,
a sea we must wade.
We’ve braved the belly of the beast,
We’ve learned that quiet isn’t always peace,
and the norms and notions
of what just is
isn’t always just-ice.
And yet the dawn is ours
before we knew it.
Somehow we do it.
Somehow we’ve weathered and witnessed
a nation that isn’t broken,
but simply unfinished.
We the successors of a country and a time
where a skinny Black girl
descended from slaves and raised by a single mother
can dream of becoming president
only to find herself reciting for one.
And yes we are far from polished.
Far from pristine.
But that doesn’t mean we are
striving to form a union that is perfect.
We are striving to forge a union with purpose,
to compose a country committed to all cultures, colors, characters and
conditions of man.
And so we lift our gazes not to what stands between us,
but what stands before us.
We close the divide because we know, to put our future first,
we must first put our differences aside.
We lay down our arms
so we can reach out our arms
to one another.
We seek harm to none and harmony for all.
Let the globe, if nothing else, say this is true,
that even as we grieved, we grew,
that even as we hurt, we hoped,
that even as we tired, we tried,
that we’ll forever be tied together, victorious.
Not because we will never again know defeat,
but because we will never again sow division.
Scripture tells us to envision
that everyone shall sit under their own vine and fig tree
and no one shall make them afraid.
If we’re to live up to our own time,
then victory won’t lie in the blade.
But in all the bridges we’ve made,
that is the promise to glade,
the hill we climb.
If only we dare.
It’s because being American is more than a pride we inherit,
it’s the past we step into
and how we repair it.
We’ve seen a force that would shatter our nation
rather than share it.
Would destroy our country if it meant delaying democracy.
And this effort very nearly succeeded.
But while democracy can be periodically delayed,
it can never be permanently defeated.
In this truth,
in this faith we trust.
For while we have our eyes on the future,
history has its eyes on us.
This is the era of just redemption
we feared at its inception.
We did not feel prepared to be the heirs
of such a terrifying hour
but within it we found the power
to author a new chapter.
To offer hope and laughter to ourselves.
So while once we asked,
how could we possibly prevail over catastrophe?
Now we assert,
How could catastrophe possibly prevail over us?
We will not march back to what was,
but move to what shall be.
A country that is bruised but whole,
benevolent but bold,
fierce and free.
We will not be turned around
or interrupted by intimidation,
because we know our inaction and inertia
will be the inheritance of the next generation.
Our blunders become their burdens.
But one thing is certain,
If we merge mercy with might,
and might with right,
then love becomes our legacy,
and change our children’s birthright.
So let us leave behind a country
better than the one we were left with.
Every breath from my bronze-pounded chest,
we will raise this wounded world into a wondrous one.
We will rise from the gold-limbed hills of the west.
We will rise from the windswept northeast,
where our forefathers first realized revolution.
We will rise from the lake-rimmed cities of the midwestern states.
We will rise from the sunbaked south.
We will rebuild, reconcile and recover.
And every known nook of our nation and
every corner called our country,
our people diverse and beautiful will emerge,
battered and beautiful.
When day comes we step out of the shade,
aflame and unafraid,
the new dawn blooms as we free it.
For there is always light,
if only we’re brave enough to see it.
If only we’re brave enough to be it.

Soul Sunday

Hi friends. I don’t think that this past full week of the new year is what any of us were aiming for, to start the year out right. These are strange times which we are going through. However, we are not alone. We are experiencing a lot of “stuff”, together. I am grateful to commune with all of you, as we navigate another year of our lives, together. My regular readers know that I dedicate Sundays to poetry. Please share your poems (they are there, in your heart – put a pen in your hand and let them flow out. You will be pleasantly surprised – “Shakespeare’s a poet, and doesn’t know it”) in my Comments section. Today I wrote this poem (I hope that you may relate, and that you can enjoy some familiarity, with me):

It Never Fails

It never fails,

Every year I find it,

That one little relic,

of the holidays past,

That I forgot to put away.

This year it was a sparkly hand towel,

In the powder room,

Depicting a Christmas tree,

Shiny, erect, hopeful and bright.

Could it be a subconscious hint?

Much like a woman who leaves her glove,

After an enjoyable evening out,

Perhaps it’s an honest mistake,

or perhaps it’s an intuitive gesture,

From something deep inside,

Trying to connect and to keep and to hold,

The magic of the moment alive,

For the entire year to come.

Soul Sunday

Good morning, loves. Sundays are devoted to poetry here at Adulting – Second Half. I’m a little distracted this morning. My own words aren’t flowing. My husband just shared a video with our family, which was magically created by Apple. My family is outdoorsy. We have been blessed to have taken trips together, to some of the greatest natural wonders of our beautiful country. Big Brother Apple just made a lovely montage of our family, on the trails. (and thus, I forgive Apple completely for this intrusion of privacy) The video was pure poetry, in pictures and in motion. I think that poetry is honestly anything that makes you feel deeply. Poetry is not restricted to words. Poetry can be found in music and in nature, in pictures and in paintings, in expressions and in shadows. What makes you feel deeply? That is your poetry. Below are a couple of poetic quotes which I saw today on the internet, from some of my favorite writers. As always, please feel comfortable to share your poetry in my Comments section.

It’s less what the eyes see and more what the soul feels (Paulo Coelho)

Cave People

My darling,

Never decide to Dim your light Accommodating the Ones accustomed

To cages And caves (C. Joybell C.)

“Love one another, but make not a bond of love: Let it rather be a moving sea between the shores of your souls.” (Khalil Gibran)