For The Author of a Book

It may take a while before your baby is born
But if it's a tear, let it stain the page
Let it write a language only this who have passed this route might understand
Cause there will be days you won't have anything to tell your book
There will be days the writing room becomes a comfort room, a fortress
There will be days the writing room becomes a waiting room, your mine for the precious stone called patience
If it be silence, let it leave it's colorless ink on your page when no words form
it might take a while but keep showing up
Maybe this is what we don't know that we give up too soon when our writing room begins to morph
That writing goes on
That the writing never stops
Cause even on days we don't write on the page the soul is being written upon.

Question: 

I once heard a popular author give this writing advice 'Writing is easy. All you just have to do is to stare at the white page till you bleed'. Do you agree with this?

P.S.- Coincidentally today, author Jeff Goins is given away his book 'You are a Writer' for FREE!. If you are interested in getting this book click here (It's just for a limited number of days though) and also check out Jeff's blog here.  
 

Beauty Is Intentional

[Image by Rodney Smith via Pinterest]

I think one of the greatest pitfalls of the evolution theory is the assumption that beauty can just happen, that chaos if left alone over time would turn out to be beautiful. This thought if embraced might be the greatest enemy of change and all things beautiful.

There is a face behind beauty, a hand behind anything well done and an intention behind the beautiful things we see all around. As artists and creators of art we must embrace the sometimes mind numbing truth that anything beautiful doesn’t just happen., that beauty burgeons when the chaos is rearranged. It is a light that chases away all shadows of procrastination, helplessness, creative block and the tendency to give up on a work of art. 

Beauty is everywhere, even if we do not see it. I think the real job of the artist is to continually keep redefining chaos. The artist that creates well knows that chaos is great asset. When he comes in contact with it, he doesn’t shrink back or give up, he rearranges it  to define beauty.

" And the earth was without form, and void; and darkness was upon the face of the deep. And the Spirit of God moved upon the face of the waters. And God said, Let there be light: and there was light"  - (Genesis 1:2-3)

There Are Things Around You You Aren't Seeing

Image via Pinterest

O-R-I-G-A-M-I

Seven letters that simply have to do with the science of folding. I came across this word first through a friend who was involved in the art. I remember visiting him and him showing me the various work of art he had invested his time in. 'Beautiful' I remember saying 'so wants this called' I later asked as I carefully handed back one of his art piece. 'Origami' he answered. 'Origami?' I stared back 'never heard of that before'. But that was a lie at least an unconscious one.

It was latter I discovered that the same word had always been staring at me on my iPad slideshow menu settings (which I have had for more than a year now. But I only saw it but never observed it.

In the end it really boils down to our desires and interest, what we really want (in fact out of life). It determines what we see, it determines what we take interest in. And it's a dangerous place if we are not seeing and taking interest in the things we need for our life journey. For me, to simply break it down career wise, it's entrepreneurship, business management, writing, music and art, that is nothing should come my way which includes these 5 things that shouldn't grab my attention. Now if they aren't grabbing my attention  then I have to go back to the drawing board cause there's a problem somewhere.

Over time our desires and interest would be more concentrated, focused and in fact reduced but our present desires, if our hearts are awaken must draw  us to see the things we are meant to see around us.
Are there things around you you aren't probably seeing? Are there various opportunities that have passed  you by due to this? What can you do to create more focus to open your eyes to the knowledge and wisdom you need for your life journey? Please share, I would be reading your comments

Heavenly [ A Mother's Day Special]

Today is mother's day and I was privileged to write something for my church which I thought a great idea to share with you.

A big 'THANK YOU' to pastors and churches that allow art to thrive even in the four walls of the cathedral. This is what I came up with. It's called 'Heavenly' and I hope you enjoy it and it reminds you the uniqueness and sacredness of motherhood. Give your mum a long hug today and if she's far, a long call. Happy Mother's day. Blessings. :)


Loving and Kind
Gentle and beautiful these are mothers not anyone else
No matter where yours is from
They are the same
Special and unique
Sincere and true
It takes so much to be a mother
Something happens when they carry us for nine months
They are a part of us
We are a part of them

If any one is wicked, it isn't mothers
They knew us
Even when we didn't know ourselves
They carried us
Even when we couldn't carry ourselves
And they fed us
Even when we couldn't eat

Heavenly and pure
Mothers are a gift
A world without them would stop
A home without them is no home, just a house
Looking for God, find a mother, she would show you a part of his heart.
His obsession about us His children
And how he would do anything for our good and well being
They say God is everywhere. Mothers are a proof he is here with us.

That Moment of Moving Forward

[Image via Arachide]

That moment of moving forward could be a hard one, a very hard one
At that moment we see the good that has to be left behind
Sometimes the issue isn't leaving it all behind
Sometimes the issue is the attachments we make
With the good and the bad
The progressive makes no attachment
The progressive knows he's on a journey
Life would move on
Time would flow like oil from the widow's jar
Its us that choose to stop
Its us that choose to get stuck at times
That moment of moving forward comes with very hard decisions
For me its leaving the good behind, the beautiful I have crafted with my hands.
The songs I have spent hours to write and stories I have had sleepless night to tell well
One thing
One thing we must remember; to build a monument out of the mountains we  have climbed brings us back to the valley we have been to pick up some  building blocks.
We must build altars and move on
That moment of moving forward
What really helps us move forward and leave all behind is when we know that for the beautiful we have crafted, we are only vessels 

P.S. - For all writers, artists and anyone involved in creative processes, whether we hear the loudest clap or accolade after that we just made, the truth remains: The best is still yet to come. Would you let the fear of 'would it ever be this loud again' hold you back?

How We Really Know Those Who Don't Really Know

[Image by Ben Olsem]

Just a thought. . .


I've been thinking about what it means to know and if I'm not sure about a number of things, I'm sure of this: to know is to be able to help somone to know too.


Now I'm not playing with words but seriously I have had my share of teachers who appear before the class and flaunt their knowledge and experiences. Instead of making the theories and ideas easier so that the students can learn, they bring forward a more bigger  and more complex version so we can be awed. In the end I never learn a thing or rather the only thing I get to learn is how 'good' they are.We must be reminded that the knowledge we really have isn't the one that is flaunted, the knowledge we really have is that which is deep seated in us working it self out as wisdom for others to see in our lives.


The test that we really know is if we are able to explain a particular concept to someone who hasn't heard of it in such a simple way that they understand. That's the point.


I am a christian, and there's always this temptation to make the simple truth of what Jesus has done for every human more complex to those who haven't heard a thing about it . These days I'm learning to ask myself  "Do you really know?"


Cause When I can't make the complex theologies I hear on the pulpit on Sundays understandable to my colleauges on monday. . . I don't really know


When I can't make people around me see how Faith is relevant to the daily activities of life . . .  I don't really know.


When I hide behind big words and spiritual cliches to make it look to others that yes I too make use of a good bible dictionary and concordance. . . I don't really know


This is a call for everyone of us to resist the temptation to hide behind big words and theologies just as a bad professor hides behind vague theorems and formulas. The test that we really know is that we are able to help another know that which we say we know. In what subtle ways have you been hiding? Do you really Know?

Dear Artist, One Is A Seed

 

Image Via Pinterest

You've got to love what you've got

We can't multiply, produce or re-create if we do not love what's in our hands

Five talents for he that has got it

Two for he that has been given it

And you who's got one never try burying it in anger

When we diligently love the little in our hands, our eyes open up to the seed of the plenty that has been placed in it

Are you a creator, artist or writer afraid to offer that you've been given?

You think it really doesn't matter so you hide it somewhere far deep down in your heart from the world and you

What's been given to you matters, if it didn't it wouldn't have been given

We must learn to appreciate the seed in our hands dilligently

No matter how small, no matter how 'negligible'

In doing that we are opening up to others the harvest God has given us to share

Little will be much if you appear daily in the sowing season

Much will be plenty if you keep showing up in and out of seasons

Little will be reduced to nothing if you wait for a fruit before you plant a seed

There's a promise of much in every little

But we must remember

One is a seed

Question of the day: What lures people to bury or hide their giftings and talents? Have you ever felt any of these pressures in your own unique expression? I would love to read your comments :)

Cassie

[Image by Alexey05]

In the end, we got news she stopped at the city before this

The last who saw her said she was raising her hands to a fast disco song at the city bar

Dancing, jumping, laughing and screaming 'this is where i belong'

I shook my head in sadness when I heard of Cassie cause I knew that wasn't her place

But a thought stopped my head from motion

Cassie is us

And sometimes we are Cassie

Stopping at the first ray of hope in a dark desert

Don't ever give up on your dreams

If God has shown you a golden city

Never settle for one because it's shining lights remind you of gold

Don't ever give up on your dreams

Its fulfillment is the long awaited answer to another's desperate prayer

Press on, don't settle, Let God answer a prayer through you

 

We are still waiting for Cassie

And yes we need her

She has the unique answer to a question we all long for to be to be answered

If you see Cassie tell her she ain't there yet

If you see Cassie tell her to pick up her bags

If you see Cassie tell her to leave the disco floor and continue her journey

If you see you tell you we are waiting

We are waiting for that song only you can sing

We are waiting for that book only you can write

We are waiting for that word only you can say

We waiting for that scientific world problem only you can solve

So pack your bags and leave the disco floor

And please please please if you see Cassie, tell YOU we are waiting

P.S. - for all the 'Cassie's who raise their hands to a disco song at a bar that is not for them to dance. Don't settle there. We are waiting for you.

 

"To all the secret writers, late-night painters, would-be singers, lapsed and scared artists of every stripe, dig out your paintbrush, or your flute, or your dancing shoes. Pull out your camera or your computer or your pottery wheel. Today, tonight, after the kids are in bed or when your homework is done, or instead of one more video game or magazine, create something, anything.

Pick up a needle and thread, and stitch together something particular and honest and beautiful, because we need it. I need it.

Thank you, and keep going."

— Shauna Niequist (Cold Tangerines: Celebrating the Extraordinary Nature of Everyday Life)

"Everything God made is waiting with excitement for God to show his children's glory completely" - Romans 8:19 (New Century Version)



10 Ways Pain Can Help Us Tell Story Better

  [ Image by mrfelix ]

 Pain is 'painful' and mostly not desired but a lot of people are always affected one way or the other by it and creators of art aren't always left out. And some say that a creator ( a writer especially) has more to create when the person has experienced  a lot of pain. Most have heard this and gone ahead to create out of pain and leave long pages bitter and sweet music sour. How can pain help us tell story better? I have been thinking about this and this are helpful findings I think worth sharing

1. We learn from pain; we don't let it damage us
We show our scars; we should never try to ignore them. We must find  and realize the beautiful tattoo in our scars before the world can see the beauty in them.

2. We must remember skin is a covering; the main bone of contention is what our circumstance has done to our souls, and an ever shining hope; the soul can heal if we learn to surrender

3. We must be convinced that the events in our story aren't random. Like Cinderella becoming an orphan, she would one day become a princess. Like Snow White falling into a deep sleep, she would one day be awaken by a beautiful kiss.

4. We must embrace the uniqueness of every story including our personal story. This would ease the error of comparing ourselves. There are comedies, action flicks, family dramas,adventures and horror motion pictures. Every one of these isn't appreciated by everyone. And life would be boring if we only had only one.

5. Stories are sometimes like unborn babies. Never force out a story prematurely. It might leave a wound on you if told in the wrong time. Glean from it. Learn wisdom from your past foolishness. In it time, you will be able to tell it with enough boldness and poise.

6. Somehow people always sense pain if it by any means shows up on the page. When a story is due to be told somehow pain doesn't appear on the page. A joy of transformation is what appears on the page. And people are always more in awe of the joy than the pain.

7. Your pain in it's raw form does no one good.

8. Never let pain let you loose the appreciation of the uniqueness of story. Because the experience was like that for you does not mean everyone has it like that.

9. See it as a phase. Holding on to pain as a writer or story teller might just give your story a monotony you don't wish for. Leave the door open for the blessings and joys that would come. That's why its called life after all. Stay open!

10. One thing that would steal the lessons and the treasures you have gained in your season of pain is cynicism. Never let pain harden your heart ( when it does, the art becomes heartless; very not flexible ) but let it soften and purify it.

"I can be changed by what happens to me. But I refuse to be reduced by it" - Maya Angelou

". . .[I will] give them bouquets of roses instead of ashes, Messages of joy instead of news of doom. . . " - Isaiah 61:3 (The Message)

Stepping Out:

11. (The Bonus) : Sometimes healing takes time. If you are in a season of pain don't see it as a pause on life. Move close to those who love and appreciate you. Celebrate! Yes, you read that right, celebrate. Turn up the music you love, read books you have longed to read, feed the 'hungry' around you, extend a hand to the hurting around you. Choose a day to pray (consistently) for those going through the same situation you are going through. Curl up into bed on most nights and freeze the moments that stole your breathe away during the day by penning down the words. Find your rooting and take time to discover the real 'you'.  You'll Be OK. One day you would look back and cherish the words you wrote down during this season. You would cherish the person you have become through this cause and you'll be Be OK. It's just a phase and you must choose to not let it faze the happy ending of  your story :)

Are you a writer, singer, artist, story teller or a creator of art of any kind. In what ways have pain helped you tell story or create art better? I would love to hear from you.

Rewriting The Unwritten

It is when we come out of the room we made with the bricks of the past that we discover that we can do many things.

We are more than we are and we are becoming. The future is our blank page where we can begin again a beautiful story.

But the fear. . . The fear of rewriting a grammatical error like we did in the past

The fear again of leaving the main character in a pool of blood at the end of our new story like we did before

We all want happy endings but it's surprising that not all get the happy ending desired

This should point to a truth
Those who are wise when given a second chance at writing their stories hand over the pen and learn.

We must learn to accept and acknowledge the 'true' but hard truth which is : our stories would end up in the tragedy of before if we write like before

The future is unwritten but if we do not hand over our pens to the Author we are simply writing the unwritten with the already written.

There is a skill in 'real life' story writing that we don't have

Man makes mistakes

God makes no mistakes

Let's hand over our pens to the one who has sent his son to die for us all for love

Some how the center of His story is to change our story

And when we surrender our pens, somehow History never forgets that we were characters in this story.

And when we surrender our pens, the written would never be rewritten on the unwritten.

Question of The Day : Do you believe the written ( the past ) can never affect the unwritten ( the future )? How possible is this? I would love to hear from you. A happy new september to you all :)




Sent from my BlackBerry wireless device from MTN

On Motivation And Waiting For The Big Moment

[ Image by erinrena ]

12:48 am

Saturday

Tonight I curl up lazily with cold hands in front of my computer wondering my motivation and the driving force of my conscious steps towards the successful life I want to lead. It’s been cold and rainy at my corner of the world, and I call it night though it’s morning because this is my night. My eyes have known the light of day for the past long hours. Far from my home with a couple of church friends on a retreat, it’s been a tedious day of giving and receiving. Oh yes tedious. At a point during the ordeal, I wanted to hold my eyes and cry hard while sharing with the group at a point, but a thought that swam in my mind for some hours some days back just seemed to surface instantly, showing up it head: we can’t give what we don’t have but sometimes it’s a hard process giving what you already have.

Right now that the day is over and I’m at a reading desk deep into my night, a friend which I’m sharing the room with is playing off Need for Speed: Hot Pursuit on the iPad and seriously I want to scream from my desk to the only Friend I know that would understand such a question of the heart. I want to scream ‘Why do I feel that way at times? Why is it sometimes hard to process the treasures of knowledge gleaned from the house whose foundation is built in wisdom? Why? But two things stop me. One, I would be screaming at the wall and that is a situation in itself. My friend would just simply freak out. It not so good screaming at walls when it’s not only you in a room, ask those who have tried it, honestly you wouldn’t find them. In fact if you do, you might just not get an answer to your question. You might just get a scream. And two, why scream at the wall? My Friend who understands the deep questions of my heart no one might understand is not the wall. He is Jesus. Though I might not see him with my eyes, he is not the walls. He is beyond the walls and He will be even when these walls have fallen.

I will wait for another day to see why sometimes it’s a hard process giving what we have. But why do I do the things I do. What’s my motivation? Why have I chosen to take the hard walk on the road to success? Why have I and am I choosing to do the hard things very few people are doing? Why am I still awake, reading blogs and typing away when my contemporaries are fast asleep? Why? Sometimes I feel foolish and I just stop. 'Nobody is doing it'. 'Life is not that hard'. I whisper to myself. But it’s in moment like that I receive grace to remember that I haven’t been to the end. But the ones who have been to the end I have consulted.

I remember inviting Barack Obama into my bedroom one cold evening. The monsoon rains were lifting and I was caught in a cold that was not my own. It just didn’t fit me. I am always rendered useless when I have a cold. I crawled under my carton colored blanket and I picked up a copy of Dreams from my father (President Obama’s Memoir which he wrote and published when ‘no one’ knew him). I was in a strange land serving my country which is required once one graduates from college or university or else I would have preferred by chocolate brown duvet a gift from my paternal grandmother (who is now late). It is thick and fluffy and would have absorbed more of the cold the rain brought but the idea of always considering it smart to travel light made me switch for the carton coloured blanket which was less bulky and also a gift from her. So on that very day I cherished it. I folded my legs in and cherished it as Barack Obama came in to my room to tell me how he gave voluntary service without end in the neglected suburbs of Chicago. How he heard the voices of those whose cries had been neglected by the government. How he encouraged when no one knew. How he gave hope to mothers with troubled sons when no one cared.

Please tell me friends, who doesn’t start small? Please remind me, which farmer reaps in a farmland he hasn’t sown. I remember that day, as I closed the book, night was setting in. I stepped to my window and looked out at the forming moon. Shaken by Barack’s story, I whispered in to the night “whatever it takes. I want to be’.

Several months have passed by now and I’m still contemplating an old question. The old question that made me curled up nights upon nights with Rick Warren’s purpose driven life. The old question that made me pledged that I would read it at least once a year. And somehow, just somehow, this writing brings the answer to the surface again. I find out here in a room far from my room ( my friend’s still playing Hot Pursuit on the iPad) that the best way to answer this very question is to tackle first head-on the ready answers I’m given by the world. So here we go.

Is it because some don’t believe that I can and I want to prove that I can?

That’s a no no for me. Sometimes back it used to be why. I wanted to show the people that didn’t believe in me that they were liars. But I can’t. That’s a cheap dream to waste a life on. I have learnt from a wise sage somewhere somehow; haters are to be pitied and sincerely prayed for and seriously I have started doing that and honestly, I’m on it.

I could go on, listing the answer choices the world gives me but tonight I’m thankful that the truth surfaces. Simple reason to the question is because ‘I want to’ and that friends changes everything; the desire that keeps burning in me to be all that I can be. On evenings after some stormy days after I have struggled on my life’s significance and the chaos is resolved, my eyes sometimes suddenly open to the truth that I am significant, my life matters, in the words of C.S. Lewis, I have an unique answer to a unique problem that would remain unsolved if I don’t step in and save the day. It’s in moments like this I know with a certainty that this desire wasn’t placed there by me. There’s a greater power fueling this burning desire. God has set me in motion to settle a part of the commotion.

It’s this drive that drives me to make every moment big in preparing for the BIG moment. Friends, our big moment would come but I must say ; if we haven’t learnt the art of transforming our most mundane and ordinary moment to big moments in the place of preparation, our BIG moment might just pass us by. Reason: We could not realize it for what it was.

"The ability to see the dream we have been given is refined in the hidden place. The man who wants the dream to become a reality keeps seeing even when others can't see a thing. And preparation helps us see better"

Question Of the day:

What seeds in your hands are in need of sowing or are you a farmer expecting to reap in a land you haven't sown?

Can I Listen To Your 'Art' ?

[Image by andreamoody ]

Can I listen to your heart?

Cause that’s all you’ve got

Can I listen to your heart?

In it is something unique

A story maybe

A song maybe

You’ve got a great voice

But can I listen to your heart still

You got an amazing persona

But can we get a glimpse of your heart

You’ve got a skilled public speaking style

But can I hear your heart beyond it all

In the heart live the treasures of darkness

Some hide their heart for the evil it might reveal

I say reveal your heart for the glory it might redeem

In the heart is something priceless

A gift for all men is kept in there by God

The unwise try to preserve the heart by keeping it locked up

But to reveal the heart is to preserve it

To reveal our hearts is to keep us going

I know a writer somewhere far away who keeps forging from her heart

It doesn’t bring the money

But somehow she isn’t going to leave the earth with what she was meant to give

when she leaves, she is a fulfilled being ready to rest

I know a superstar, maybe here, maybe there

Who keeps it all inside and sells all on the outside

The last I heard of her, she laid in a pool of her own blood

She sold her soul but never gave her heart

Can I listen to your heart?

You who sing beautiful songs with no beauty

And speak holy words in an unholy manner

In your heart is a gift

Cause when it comes from the heart there is a shift

Cause when we speak from the heart

Our words are worth more than works of art.

P.S. – For everyone who cages art in professionalism, it would do us good to ask ourselves from time to time ‘Where is the expression when it is caged?’

Stepping Out:

‘The creator and his work are one’

Are you are writer, singer, artist or someone involved in creative processes?

Do you see a part of you in your work?

Or better said does your work reflect what you believe?

When an artist doesn’t reflect his work it might point to some things much deeper. He is probably hiding behind his work. He is not comfortable with the story he has found himself in, so he seeks to paint a picture perfect story for a world that hungers for his own unique story.

In what ways can you communicate more from the heart through your art?

What chains are holding you down in doing this?

What are you doing about it?

"For art to speak, It must be from the heart."

The Day The Enemy Died [Fiction]

[Image by Johanne A. P. ]



Maybe today I would try to pick up my life again. . . . .

I punch the snooze button on my bedside alarm for the ninth time since the beginning of this new day. Simple math, I won’t be making the bus today. With a ten minutes interval between each snooze break, it should 8:00 a.m. I would just call in sick.

I can’t do this I simply can’t do. . . .

Rolling out of the duvet cover, I plant my feet into the plush carpet. Its pleasure is a pain. Papa. . .

Everything around here reminds me of him but I have chosen to be reminded though it’s been 10 years.

I’m losing it . . . I can’t do this. . . .

I make my way to the kitchen counter. I’m Cassie, I remind myself; Cassie Reynolds and no one is taking away that name from me. Not even the latter part.

I approach the coffee maker like it’s a sepulcher holding rotting bones. The mix of coffee and rotting bones don’t go so well somewhere in my mind. I rather stick with coffee this morn and leave rotting bones till later.

Who am I? I don’t even know me any more . . .

Everything seems to speak his name this morning. General Carlton John Reynold . . . . Carly. . .  Papa. I don’t want to remember. I don’t want to.

My name is Cassie Reynolds. I never knew my mum cause she died when I was 3. Her name was Reba. And my dad . . . please don’t let me remember. . .  He killed him.

My life stopped when my father died. I moved out of my student apartment in mid town Boston and moved back home here in Seattle. The wedding plan just became an ‘impossibility’. My dear Ferdinand, oh how I loved him and still love him. But the pain was just too much for me to share. You can’t share in a pain you know nothing about. I had to let him go. He just didn’t seem to understand. ‘move on and leave it behind” he kept chanting like a downtown preacher that just got on pulpit to do his Sunday morning limbo. “I would have to keep his name” I finally told him. He looked at me appalled on the last night we met “you are not ready to become one with me”. He walked away and I never saw him again. Naïve lover. .  Someday maybe he will understand the pain of losing all you once had. But oh Papa. The rain here reminds me of him, everything does. . . . Even the plush carpet.

I pick up the remote on the counter and turn on the TV. A mournful blues melody wafts through the air. . The singer looks as pale as she sounds.

“I will wait for you forever. You left with no goodbyes. . . . Can it begin again? Maybe this time you wouldn’t be gone before I turn”.

I’m tempted to turn it off. This pale star doesn’t know what she’s singing. Who paid her to look like a Dracula? I tune to another channel. I have tried my whole life since papa left to have it back where it started. I have wished I could go down with the plane that took his life. I asked a thousand times why the last conversation had to be an argument. I have prayed to God if he ever hears me to revenge those who took the only one I had left in a world of strangers. I have tried to have it back but still I’m stuck.

I’m stuck here . . .

I set the remote down and grab my mug of hot decaf. The headline on the news channel I just tuned to is an answer to the only prayer I have uttered all my life since they took my papa from me. Hot liquid spills on me as my mug clatters on the kitchen floor.

A picture of the murderer looms on the screen. I move close to the screen like I want to grab him and strangle him. I remind myself he is already dead. I crash to the floor as I scream the pain.

Am I crying over the death of the murderer?

Am I?

I should be throwing a party

But there’s no room for a party

My anger still looms in the emptiness of my soul even after the one I seek revenge for dies.

I have stabbed him in a thousand times in my heart for what he did.

But my enemy dies and it didn’t bring back Papa.

My enemy dies and I can’t even rejoice.

What brings Joy to a soul even after the enemy has ravaged unlawfully what is not for him to have?

I thought revenge would make me happy

It only made me remember how long ago happiness left my door

A long time ago

Questions for pondering and discussion

ü  How would you define Cassie, The main character in the story?

ü  Cassie Reynolds is a type A emotional woman some would say; but is she? What traits from the story point her to be the hard hearted woman she is?

ü  Cassie moves from Boston to Seattle after she lost her father, the only family she had known (at least according to the scope of the story) in the world known September 11 plane crash. Does this give her a reason to put her life on standstill?

ü  Cassie sees a popular musician singing a bluesy love song on the TV screen. How does her reaction to the scene display the cynicism that has cleaved to her in the aftermath of her father’s death?

ü  Referring to her fiancée Ferdinand, Cassie muses ‘You can’t share in a pain you know nothing about’. Do you believe this is true?

ü  Cassie muses at the beginning of the story “I’m Cassie . . . . .  Cassie Reynolds and no one is taking away that name from me. Not even the latter part.” What’s your view on women who choose to retain their maiden name even after marriage?

ü  Cassie muses after she hears about Osama Bin Laden’s death on the TV “I have stabbed him a thousand times in my heart for what he did”. What ways do you think the September 11 event forever changed the lives of those who lost loved ones in it?

ü   A thing line theme on revenge runs through the short story. What effects has holding to a grudge brought your way in the past?

Paula White, Thoughts on Being a Better Writer, Pastor T.D Jakes’ New Movie and Other Things

 PAULA WHITE
 

I have seen Pastor Paula White twice on trinity broadcasting network (TBN) after her divorce and I just love her heart the more. It’s beautiful when we choose not to grow cynical from the trials we go through in life. It’s a super star stunt, when we gather treasures in the darkness and wait for the light of dawn.

The picture of a victor who has overcome reads:

‘The light would sure come; I would gather the treasures of darkness and wear them as accessories of faith in the light. I would say with confidence; See what the lord has done, if He can bring me through, he can do the same for you. He is faithful’.

But it funny how most people embrace more of ‘fate’ and not faith when they go through. James 1:2-3 says:

‘My brethren, count it all joy when ye fall into divers temptations; Knowing this, that the trying of your Faith worketh patience’

As I watched Paula White some days back on ‘Praise the Lord’ Live, I was sure she had some treasures to share. She made a statement that keeps ringing in my head ‘You can’t lead someone else to a place you have never been’. And that’s so true. Let’s pause and think: what broken routes are the events in our lives making us pass by? They might be rough but guys we can’t be cynical. We just can’t be. It’s time to draw out our book and take notes of the journey, curves, and bends and moments God showed up at very ‘late’ hours. It’s a matter of time. When we go through we are bound to help another find their way through a similar path.

ON BEING A BETTER WRITER

These days ‘everybody’ writes. At least if not a page, 140 characters on the world acclaimed twitter. But not everyone fulfills the aim of writing. The writer writes to communicate an idea or a thought process that produces an effect on the other end; that’s what shows the effectiveness of a write up anyway. I want to be a better writer. I want to change the word with my pen. Like I love to say ‘I am a warrior and the pen is my sword’. So on my quest to be a writer that communicates better, I stumbled on something said by another writer that totally rocked my world, and here is it:

…I write to fill the hole in my heart. At any given time, all of us have an empty spot, one that is calling for companionship, for example, or for justice, love, romance, or a belly laugh. When I sit down to write, I look to see what hole needs filling at that particular moment. Sometimes that can be painful—but it can’t be ignored. Flat or uninteresting writing often signals something deeper that is being covered up.

-Kathi Appelt (in a May 2011 The Writer interview with Mary Quattlebaum) 

Okay, I'm learning. A writer that wants to communicate must be honest.

PASTOR T.D. JAKES' NEW MOVIE

Pastor TD jakes has a new movie titled 'Jumping the Broom', and I’m just so excited about it. Watching ‘Not easily broken’ (one of his former production which featured A-list actor Morris Chestnut) was just an experience. The suspense, the tears, the drama, you just name it. I can’t wait to see this new one and I already heard that A-list actress Angela Bassett is on the cast of this one. The movie was produced by T.D. Jakes, Tracey E. Edmonds, Elizabeth Hunter, Glendon Palmer and Curtis Wallace. The casting director was Twinkie Byrd. In fact it’s already showing in the cinemas in the US. So in case you find it in a movie theater near let it be the one to watch. I guarantee it to be a thrilling experience.