Insight

Queen Rhonda J. Foster shares . . .


Lateral thinking
is a nimbleness,
Lateral thinking
is a mental tool.
Options fly before me
like typeface on a page,
Characters scroll by on computer screen,
Seconds clicking on a watch
I will not wear.
All the cerebral flexion,
movement,
highbrow gymnastics,
Running the maze of the Riddle of Being,
Finding the way of wisdom,
Has still left me stuck
in the middle of life.
The collected scholarship of the world
does not equal
one moment of insight
by the heart.

© 2005 Rhonda J. Foster

Living From Within

Queen Marie Magdala Roker shares . . .

"You gain strength, courage, and confidence by every experience in which you really stop to look fear in the face. You must do the thing which you think you cannot do."
-Eleanor Roosevelt

What exactly is Living From Within?

It's living a life in which you are satisfied and content with your life. Living from within means that you have gained insights from your failures and are confident enough to cheer on your successes.

When you think about yourself, do you focus on your strengths or your weaknesses? Too often in life, we look back on all the mistakes we've made and yet don't look at what we've learned from them. We all have endured unfair circumstances in our lives, but it's not about how courageous we were in the time of difficulty, but how we have overcome and matured spiritually, emotionally and mentally.

When you bounce back after a misfortune, you are fueled with the knowledge that failure is success in disguise. Perhaps, you didn't get that job you had hoped for or married the person you loved, but did you learn something about yourself in the process. Was that job ideal for you or was it replacing some other need you needed to fulfill? Would your life really have been happier with this person? Or did you need to hold on to a relationship because it was the right thing to do? Let go of what's holding you back. Chances are, you are the only one getting in the way of your success.

It's time you embraced what's wonderful about you. You have unique talents, gifts and skills. Your sense of your self-worth is important in all aspects of your life. Don't allow childhood wounds, and other sources of pain to control your life. Let that pain be a source of motivation for you to love yourself and enjoy your life.

If you are having a hard time with relishing in your self-worth, seek spiritual guidance. Even if you don't know how great you are, God knows it. Stop hiding behind your past and look to the future. If you don’t share your greatness with the world, no one will ever know it.

© 2005 Marie Magdala Roker

Marie is an Academic and Personal Development Coach. You can find her on the web at http://www.smartbeecoaching.com/ or check out her blog at http://smartbeecoaching.typepad.com/live_learn_grow

Spirit Voice

Queen Cathy Fowler shares . . .

Each judgment you make about others
Is a steel bar you
Place around yourself

###

The ego controls
Life with
Thoughts that
Really don't matter

###

The
ultimate
God-given
gift
Is
A
Choice

###

@ 2003 Catherine Cooper Fowler

What I've Learned . . .

Bonnie Florea, Queen Quilter of Words, shares . . .

I've learned that you are responsible for you.
When times get rough, I am tough.

If you step on me, I can walk away from you.
If I own it, I can over come it.

What I've learned is:
I can love.
I can be loved.
I can get mad.
I can cry.
I hate lies.

I've learned,
Life is unfair and it is up to me to balance life.
When demons come a knockin, I can slam the door.
When opportunity arise's, I have a choice.

What I've learned is:
We all are born to live a life, for a time.
I can believe in God, and you can believe in whatever.
If I write for me, it doesn't matter who likes it.

I've learned,
Once the curtain is closed shut, life is just beginning.
Love comes with a price,
but that hate has a higher price.
Experiences are the learning tools in life.

So as I lay down to sleep each and every night.
I know that day.
I have learned another thing.
In the class of life.

© 2005 Bonnie Florea

Writer's & Poet's http://writersandpoets.bravehost.com/

Clothing Monster

Christine Hohlbaum, PR Diva Queen, shares . . .

There is no doubt about it. My house is haunted. We don’t have the regular kind of ghosts with rattling chains and a white sheet. I wish we did. I have heard normal ghosts don’t reaarange the furniture or take out board games without putting them away later, and they certainly don’t litter. In fact, they are rather transparent and are more apt to slam doors on windy October nights than to breach the domestic organization I hold so dear to my heart.

No, no! We have a different kind of goblin in our household. It is the kind that requires me to cull through the closets on a weekly basis. We seem to amass more textiles in our household than any loom in India can create in one year. Our spirit strews clothing about the floors and onto random chairs. If I see a lone sock hanging off the chandelier, I know who did it.

At first, I thought it was my family. Gingerly approaching my two kids, I asked how their pajamas landed in the middle of their bedroom floors, almost simultaneously and without explanation. They peered at me with blank eyes and shrugged.

“The clothing monster again, huh?” My motherly gaze pierced their innocent stares, and they nodded grimly. “I knew it!” Without a word, my two kids picked up their pjs and put them in their proper places.

Given the scientific nature of my husband’s mind, I tried a different tactic with him.

“Have you any idea how your jeans and three pairs of dirty underwear got onto my grandmother’s white wingback chair?” I asked gently. I dared not remove the offensive items lingering stinkily on their perches. It was best that my husband see to that.

The same blank look my kids had given me rested on my husband’s face. He hadn’t a clue how they got there. Biting my lower lip, I thought about how best to handle my quandry. The next day I had a brilliant idea.

Propping up a video camera, I decided to catch the clothing monster on film. With 120 minutes of tape time remaining on my digital camera, I knew I could catch him in the act and prove to my family that I am not as crazy as they think. Following the adage that a watched pot never boils, I took a walk for an hour, then a bike ride. When I returned the film had just finished. Or so I thought. The light on the camera was not illuminated. When I checked it, it had not recorded a single second. As I turned around, I suddenly noticed how clean the house was. No discarded bathing suits were left wet and rotting under the coffee table. No shoes had been kicked off aimlessly to block foot traffic in the foyer.

No musty bath towels were hanging from the wooden dining room chairs.

My husband wore an apron and a tired smile. The kids’ rooms were spotless, and the children were quietly playing a board game in the living room. Bags of used clothing were stacked neatly in the foyer for the church’s annual clothing drive. I dried a tear as I gave my husband a squeeze. Something told me my family had chased the clothing monster away for good this time.

© 2004 Christine Hohlbaum

To find out more about Christine, our very own PR Diva Queen go to:
www.queenpower.com/queens.html

Song of Venus

Donna Warner, Queen Camellia, shares . . .

THEY say there are no flying saucers
and no life on other planets.
THEY say maybe there are.
THEY send out radio waves anyway.
Maybe a trillion light years from now,
after the sun has shouted its last orgamsic cry,
consumed this world and all her sisters
in conflagration,
and—puff—
contracted in on itself,
some three headed android
on Iris 115
will be watching “I Love Lucy.”
Who can understand an alien tongue?

In my youth I brushed my hair, pulled on bell bottoms,
concocted potions with browned chicken, rice
and an array of exotic spices.
The creature turned,
dropped by for a visit,
settled in for a life time.
I won.

Now I stand on the cool bricks, stare into space
and wonder about lives I’ll never live.
Twinkle, twinkle little star.
Why bother?
Surely even in the distant folds of the universe
age recognizes
all flaming hearts burn themselves out.
So what is this still whisper
for more?

© 2004 Donna Warner

http://www.beinginamerican.blogspot.com

Popping the Question—A Bride's Proposal Story

Elizabeth Blair, Queen Elizabeth, shares . . .

It was a typical Tucson winter day, cool and sunny. I met my boyfriend for lunch at a sandwich shop near the college I was attending. We had limited time so we ate quickly. Jeff had to get back to work; his afternoon would be busy. Before parting, Jeff asked if I wanted to go to Happy Hour that evening. I agreed and we kissed goodbye.

That afternoon biology class was dismissed early. I jumped into my car to drive home, change clothes, and freshen up before our date. As I headed up the ramp to the freeway, my cell phone rang.

"I'm off early. Had to go to the post office and bank," Jeff explained. He was in his car only minutes ahead of me.

"Isn't this great! We have plans and we both got out early!"

"Where are you?" Jeff asked.

"Still a couple of miles behind you." I gave him my cross streets.

Jeff suddenly interjected, "I'm sorry I haven't been very romantic lately."

"No, I guess you haven't." I shrugged. "But we've been busy, it's okay."

"Valentine's Day is coming up. I promise to do something romantic, at least get you a card."

"That's a start."

"Where are you now?" He asked, more impatiently. I looked at the street signs and read them off to him. "Well, hurry up. I want to get to Happy Hour."

We had plenty of time. Why the hurry? He was acting so strange.

"I can meet you at the restaurant if you prefer," I suggested. "Or, if we meet at the house we can ride together and catch up on our day." He agreed, and we hung up again.

My cell phone rang again.

"Beth, I just got home. What happened to the garage door? Did you break it this morning?" The garage door was our main entry to the house.

"It was fine when I left. Maybe your automatic opener isn't working?" Minutes later I pulled beside Jeff's pearl white Acura in our driveway. I repeatedly pressed the button on my garage opener. Nothing. With a shrug, I walked up to the front door and turned the knob.

As I stepped into the living room my jaw dropped and my eyes grew big. A camera flashed.

I was swimming in a sea of balloons. Balloons on the floor. Balloons on the ceiling. Dozens and dozens … hundreds of colorful balloons. Jazz music played in the background.

After my eyes adjusted, I saw Jeff was sitting on the couch, camera in hand. He said, "You said I wasn't very romantic, so I decided to whip something up."
Still in shock, I trudged through the balloons to hug him. I felt like I was in slow motion.

Jeff nodded toward the coffee table. "You have something to open." There sat a bucket with a champagne bottle on ice, two crystal champagne flutes, two candles, and a blue ribbon … tied around a little blue box.

I picked up the box and slowly pulled the ribbon. Inside was a ring box. I lifted the lid and found … a gold stickpin? I looked at Jeff with raised eyebrows.

He folded his arms across his chest, settled back, and grinned. "It looks like you have some popping to do."

"What? " I looked around the room. "Oh!"

Not wasting a moment, I grabbed the pin and began sticking balloons. Laughing all the while, I searched for "the" balloon. But there were so many, I finally started shaking them and throwing them to the side.

"Don't forget there are balloons on the ceiling," Jeff reminded me. I looked up.

"How am I ever going to find it?"

After an eternity, I shook a red balloon. Something rattled! When I poked it with my gold stickpin, shiny heart-shaped confetti cascaded around me. A blue ring bag fell to the carpet.

Trembling, I tipped it open until a ring fell into my hand. Jeff gently took it and urged me to sit on the couch.

"You know me. I have to do this the traditional way." As he lowered himself to one knee, his brown eyes gazed into mine. He asked me to be his wife and slipped the princess cut diamond on my finger.

After my eager "Yes!" and many kisses later, Jeff said, "Oh … and … by the way … we are not going to Happy Hour."

Reprint. Formerly published in Chicken Soup for the Bride's Soul.

Elizabeth L. Blair is a wife, mother, and freelance writer living in Tucson, AZ. You can visit her website at http://www.bethblair.com/ or write her at elblair99@yahoo.com.

Time Is Fleeting

Sandra Bennett, Queen of Thistle Cove Farm, shares . . .

Time is fleeting and I'm not waiting to wear purple,
Or red or kiwi or orange or magenta or any other color.

I'll spend my time sitting under the sunflowers,
while the mares snuffle my hair and kittens play in my lap.

Today I'll take my knitting to the pasture,
and chance a wet bottom when I sit on the ground.
Samuel and Carly will nuzzle my pockets for treats of corn,
while the other sheep bleat at their boldness.

My needles will lie quietly as I watch the birds float on unseen columns of wind.
The barn swallows and goldfinches and robins and even the buzzards will bring me joy.

Tonight at midnight, the dogs and I will walk in the pasture.
I'll whisper secrets to the horses and sheep.
I'll look for fallen stars and the dippers,
and will nail Orion's belt with the north star.

I'll drink good wine and strong beer and sweet water.
I'll eat chocolate for breakfast and pastry for lunch.
Mix cream in my flavored coffee, and
turn up my nose at powdered milk and ill mannered people.

Tomorrow, I'll give compliments to perfect strangers.
Speak to people on the street,
just to watch their reactions as I grin at my silly self.

I've worn hats for over thirty years and see no need to stop.
I'll not waste happiness on tomorrow but spend it willy nilly today.
Time is fleeting and I'm wearing purple now!

© 2004 Sandra Bennett

Visit Sandra (www.thistlecovefarm.com)