BFL Blog
As she picked up her pen
she begin to write again
words flow
as if she didn’t know
her truth
in a time capsule
awaiting rebirth
treasure
beyond measure
never to be lost again!
As she picked up her pen
she begin to write again
words flow
as if she didn’t know
her truth
in a time capsule
awaiting rebirth
treasure
beyond measure
never to be lost again!
Splendor
Sometimes life isn’t what we think or wish it could be, or decisions we’ve made haven’t always been the best decisions. Easter Sunday was fast approaching and I could remember all the times spent with family going to Mass or Church, having a meal and taking photos with our new Easter outfits. Then there were times I wasn’t with family but choose to travel. One time in particular played back a memory of leaving my teenage son Kelvin at home and buying him an Easter Cookie announcing I would be
traveling for the holiday weekend. After all, Kelvin was a Buddhist so Easter wasn’t a holiday that he celebrated anyway. The journey I took was one of the worst trips I’ve experienced to date. As I looked at a photo with Kelvin biting into the cookie, it reminded me of that choice. So I felt an overwhelming need to be home with family this Easter as I did not want to be alone with that memory. The only issue is I was down south tending to the Sacred Moon Life Center, and I didn’t have the energy to travel so I made arrangements to have dinner with my adopted family the Lassiters. Well on Good Friday, I realized I was fearful of what could potentially be called “Splendor in the Grass” syndrome:
“…The radiance which was once so bright
Is now forever taken from my sight.
Though nothing can bring back the hour of splendor in the grass
Of glory in the flower
We will grieve not
Rather find strength in what remains behind.”
By William Wordsworth
I needed to face the pain of what happened 11 years ago with not spending that Easter with my son. So, I decided to spend Easter alone and test where I was emotionally with being alone. Although I had to cancel my original plans, the Lassiters were a little perplexed, but none-the-less, very understanding. That Saturday, I went and purchased food for Easter Dinner and some herbs to plant as smelling the herbs would bring joy to my spirit.
On Easter Sunday, I decided to place a lounge chair in the front yard and try to read
two books, take deep breaths in between, talk to the herbs, touch the herbs and smell them, and fix an Easter basket so that I wouldn’t have to move. As I set there for a few hours, the word “SPLENDOR” came to mind to describe how I felt. How my soul felt in this waking hour. As I jotted down words, instead of tears, this expression poured out:
The radiance of brightness forever in sight
Now
Grieve not for what has passed, but instead
give glory to the brightness of today
for a flower that has dried has too it’s own beauty!
The realization of moving forward is
facing what has brought pain or fear,
and replacing it with what brings
your soul splendor!
Greetings, please allow me to introduce myself. My birth name is Gina. Some call me Poopee, some call me GiGi, some call me Chenoa, some call me Grannyd, some call me Gina Maria and my Mentees call me Ms. G. You may call me crazy for naming my blog BEAUTIFU©kingLIFE! Any hoot, people who know me also know I’ve experienced a beautiful fu©king life one filled with wonderful joy and one filled with heartbreaking disappointment. Extremes! Both Heaven and Hell yeah! I’m still here standing and writing strong! As you journey with me, some of the $#!t I will share with you will be encouraging, some will break your heart, some will make you laugh so hard you may just have to change your panties, some might piss you off, some might bring discomfort and or a state of consciousness. Anyhow, I’ll let you be the judge of your own emotional and spiritual well-being. Also, I promise not to swear, with the exception of introducing this blog. I invite you to follow me for purposes of learning how the glass is always half full even when it may appear to be empty, and of course a little humor in between.