Normal to Zero/Threads From the Tapestry

Life is an intricate tapestry, its delicate threads woven by many hands,

the images drawn with love, hate and fear,

painted with hues of laughter and tears,

each thread a memory, a wish, a desire

of the fledgling soul as it ignites the fire

within our hearts.

It is a challenge, when a snag appears, to let it be,

eager to repair the damage so that none will see,

we pull and tuck until the beauty unravels more,

leaving great holes in the perfection that could be.

If only we, contented, gently stroked the worn

and torn bits and, stepping back,

admire the subtle changes

that define a life of love

and not of lack.

My Father passed away two days ago. I have a full, yet broken heart at this time. I am looking at the tapestry, seeing the faded places with loving memory, each small imperfection proof that we lived fully, courageously and with purpose. The road is paved with thorns and strewn with roses. There cannot be one without the other. I will remember you, Daddy. 

Clifton C Kimble 

1936-2020

A Warrior for Love

Hallelujah...

Life Is a Tapestry...

And finally, one of his favorites..

Now, Daddy...go play ball! ❤️❤️❤️

The Morning After

 This one seems appropriate to me right now. 

There’s got to be a morning after

if we can hold on through the night.

We have a chance to find the sunshine,

let’s keep on looking for the light. 

It’s not too late

we should be giving

only with love can we climb..

It’s not too late

not while we’re living,

let’s put our hands out in time.

Oh can’t you see the morning after.

We’re moving closer to the shore.

I know we’ll be there by tomorrow

and we’ll escape the darkness,

we won’t be searching anymore....

I chose this version of her live performance during the 1988 MD telethon because I always admired Jerry Lewis and his efforts to support the Muscular Dystrophy Foundation. I volunteered at several locations as a teenager to man phones, make and fetch coffee and anything else that needed to be done.

We need to get back to the busyness of life, of caring and sharing what is important, of lifting one another up rather than constantly tearing each other down. The world needs to reflect the inner beauty of her inhabitants, not the pale imitation that Narcissa has mesmerized so many with. 

I must believe there will be a morning after that is bright with confident hope, deep appreciation and fresh gratitude. 

Humble

 

Before God’s creation

I am humble,

knowing we are but grains of 

sand along the shores of time-

and standing alone are

 nearly invisible.

Together we can form 

mountains, reaching to

the heavens as we lift

each other up,

offering a steady shoulder

when needed and accepting

a foothold when we falter

ourselves. 

Nothing truly great is

ever accomplished alone,

nothing in creation can be known

without another. 

Community, cohesion, cooperation,

appreciation, admiration, aspiration

to be all that we 

dream.

Together.

Humble.

CKP copyright 2020

Dazzle

Terra Reparo! 

The ocean gave me a wand and I’ve decided to put it to good use. 

She has so many gifts to share and now she will be threatened again. 

When will we learn?

And for Linda Hill’s SoCS  prompt, here is a bit of ‘dazzle’ the sea was sharing with us. 

So Are We all

When I was in elementary-or grade-school, depending on what region of the country you grew up in, we had regular weekly visits by the music teacher. These were the golden days of my school years, those days when we got a reprieve from the brain strain of Mathematics and Science. The reading was always dandy with me. History is fun, but the memorization of dates and locales detracted from the joy of the events for me.And I don’t have enough space or time to express my joy over art sessions.

Back to music...we were taught some amazing folk ballads and they really made an impression on my young child/old soul’s heart. The song I am highlighting here is one of those special ballads, a piece of personal expression almost too melancholy for the frivolous and too prophetic for the old and weary.  For me, it speaks of every person’s journey in this Illusion we call life.

For the detail oriented among you (Dan 😉) I am including a bit of history from Wikipedia. Then there is the ballad, calling to my soul now more than ever. Hearing it in the movie Lost Child on Amazon Prime struck a chord inside me and I have been singing it over and over.  I’m sharing its message with you here.. Open the door to your soul and have a listen.

From Wikipedia:

The Wayfaring Stranger" (also known as "Poor Wayfaring Stranger" or "I Am a Poor Wayfaring Stranger"), Roud 3339, is a well-known American folk and gospel song likely originating in the early 19th century^[1] about a plaintive soul on the journey through life. As with most folk songs, many variations of the lyrics exist.

It has been speculated that "Wayfaring Stranger" may have been derived from "The Dowie Dens of Yarrow," a folk song from the Scottish Borders.^[2] However, the fact that the two songs differ entirely in subject matter calls the theory into doubt.

According to the book, The Makers of the Sacred Harp, by David Warren Steel and Richard H. Hulan, the lyrics were published in 1858 in Bever's Christian Songster. This may have been the first time the song appeared in print, in English. Steel and Hulan suggest the song was derived from an 1816 German-language hymn, "Ich bin ein Gast auf Erden" by Isaac Niswander.^[3]

During and for several years after the American Civil War, the lyrics were known as the Libby Prison Hymn. This was because the words had been inscribed by a dying Union soldier incarcerated in Libby Prison, a notorious Confederate prison in Richmond, Virginia. It had been believed that the dying soldier had authored the song to comfort a disabled soldier, but since it had been published several years before the Civil War had started (and before Libby Prison existed), this was not the case.^{[citation needed]}

Members of the Western Writers of America chose it as one of the Top 100 Western songs of all time.^[4]

Abandoned

Displaced,

dropped from space

into this human race,

leaving no trace,

my true identity
erased.

.

Alone

I roam

the minutes 

of the long days

spinning into months

that turn to years.

With tears I mark

the passing.

Glimpses,

like shadows

viewed in the periphery

of my clouded vision,

too full of chaos

and sound

around 

me

I need to hear

your voice, Mother,

to feel your love, Father

the kinship of a brother

that I never really knew

beyond our childish

games-our names

scratched on

the sidewalk.

Come back!

What I lack

is kindred spirit,

the connection,

resurrection

of the flame to

ease the shame

of forgetting

and regretting 

the fall.

It was but for such an  error

that I walk through life in terror,

neither knowing friend or foe

and no matter where I go, it follows.

fear always an unwilling guest

serving pain in spite of all my best

efforts to deflect,

reject

the lie.

Have

I

been

abandoned

in this 

world

of angry

souls?

Will you ever come to take me back

into that bosom of pure energy

where love is all that exists?

Home.

CKP words and images 2020

It’s Official!

I want to change my name to Bob and apply for an architecture apprenticeship at the Lego factory.

My youngest son, also my birthday buddy, saw every Harry Potter movie with me from the time he was around ten. It was our tradition and so much fun. We both love the books, the films and all that the story embodies. Jo Rowling is a hero in many ways. So, when he sent me pics of his own Lego set of Hogwarts, I was envious. It looked amazing. So, for Mother’s Day he surprised me with my own set! This one is Hagrid’s hut and Buckbeak’s near demise and rescue by Harry and Hermione.  

I figured I would just start slow, doing a bit each night as a kind of meditation, a mindless enjoyment. I began the set with the adorable little Mother’s Day card kit. It is so sweet. 

As you can see from the first photo, there were choices for the message. I asked him which one he would choose for me. He chose this one.😊💕

Then the real fun started. I put together a few pieces the first night. 

Then last night I worked on it until I was too tired to see. 

Today all bets were off. So much for stretching out the fun, as I worked with feverish glee to get every piece in the right place, making one of my favorite parts of The Prizoner of Azkaban film come to life. As you can see, the set even has a light that comes on for the fireplace! (That’s to keep Hagrid’s Dragon egg warm..)

So there you have it, my new career has been decided upon. But until then, I hope to get more sets cuz lego fun has been a mind saving distraction for me. And I get to have my good friends from Hogwarts with me all the time now. Thanks again Willard! 😘🤗

I  want to thank Linda Hilla for her #SOCS prompt this week

Visit her page for more great posts! Meanwhile, enjoy a snippet of the wonderful world of Harry Potter. 

The Deafening Silence

The Sound of Silence

Hello Darkness, my old friend,

I've come to talk with you again

because a vision softly creeping

left its seeds while I was sleeping

and the vision that was planted in my brain

still remains

within the 

Sound of Silence.

This first verse to an old but perpetually relevant song by Simon and Garfunkel has been a recurring theme for me throughout my life.  In the mystical moment between asleep and awake lie the revelations that sear the soul, the brilliant 'Aha's' that I try to grasp even as they slip once more into the chasm of oblivion.  

My heart cries to capture them and share these truths with the world; but, like glistening drops of morning dew, they disintegrate when touched-shattering into a million molecules that disappear into the atmosphere once again...waiting.  They wait for us to be ready, to be worthy, to be willing to hear and to accept the truth of what they are, what we are and what we have done, and what we must do to be at peace with the universe as we were in the beginning.  Before the desire grew too big, before the killing, the willing that all would be gained at any cost.  

We have moved so far beyond our connection with our earth home that our children don't know the histories any more.  The struggles that made us strong have been stuffed into closets to collect dust along with the musty bones of those whose blood was shed forging the path that brought us to our comfortable place.  The face of humanity has changed from eager hunger for growth and transformation to bored apathetic impatient expectation.  

Is it too late, have we gone too far?  I see kindness still reaching, hear the teaching of the wise ones-their voices rising above the cacophony of technology. The drone of witty repertoire, edgy, cool and quippy but without context.  

Listen to the old for they have lived a life and made it this far having listened to those who went before.   Who has lived who hasn't committed sin, hasn't lived in error, and hasn't changed from the long road?  A wise man once said, "Whoever sees his life and feels he knows the answers to all the questions can be certain he does not even know the questions." 

Listen to the young without judgment and know that they are learning.  Do not allow their toys to raise them, their peers to teach them or their activities to be their only companions.  Parenting means being present, being aware, and it is not for the faint of heart.  Being your child's friend should be your last priority.  A good parent will know the friendship of their grown children once they reach their own maturity. 

 It is said that parenting is a thankless job and it can seem that way for many years. Now that my children are grown I feel their thankfulness in every conversation we have, see it in their beautiful faces and the lives they are creating every day.  Sometimes we didn't like each other when they were young but we always loved one another. Love is neither easy nor disposable.  

Good relationships are hard work.  We are not put here to 'fix' each other or to mold our relationships.  We often have to suffer through changes, for we all change as we grow. Sometimes those changes are too great to sustain our relationship; yet sometimes, if we are patient we can catch up to one another again, find that even ground and see one another with new eyes.  Relationship can be a metamorphosis of love from awkward caterpillar to resting cocoon to magnificent flight.  Don't give up when you realize you are actually separate persons with your own ideas, goals and desires.  

Know that you are never alone.  Especially when you are all alone.  It is in those moments, in the absolute quiet that descends like a blanket around you, that you can be still and know that love is that blanket.  Close your eyes and see it, feel it, accept it. It will be the most complete love you will ever know.  

Never be afraid to share your thoughts, your love or your ideas.  Keeping treasures hidden away is like stealing from those who will value them most.  Failure is not death and fear is the antithesis of Love.  Only love is real.  All else falls away in its light.  Hold on to the Light.  

And the people bowed and prayed

to the neon God they made

and the sign flashed out its warning

in the words that it was forming

and the sign said,

"The words of the prophets are written on the subway walls

and tenement halls"

and whispered in the Sound of Silence...

Paul Simon

The Gleaning

Listen, can you hear?

Can you see the tears

her heart sheds

for her children? 

From birth

the Earth

sustains,

remains

constant,

reliable,

viable,

strong.

How long?

CKP copyright 2020

It Will Always Be Too Late

to know the joy of connection, of fulfilling someone's dream of acceptance, to give of yourself when you feel you are depleted, if you wait for a 'better time', a clearer head, the 'right' moment, or different circumstances.  Death is a dream for those that leave but can be a nightmare for those left behind.

Words of the heart can be spoken across the veil, even with the breath of life between souls; but why wait?  The time is always now for sincerity, love, expression and truth.

Say it loud, say it clear. You can listen as well as you hear.

It's too late, when we die to admit we don't see eye to eye...

I love you all!!!

Never forget.

Reflection

Today I caught a glimpse of time, frozen in perfection,

it’s lightness took my breath away,

stole my sorrow-

floating

above

its 

reflection,

weeping

silently

for 

lost

moments,

waiting

for the

ticking clock

of opportunity.

We wept together

in pain

with hope

of 

gentle currents

and heady winds

of bright change.

Till then-

content

we admired 

Life’s reflection...

CKP

Words and image copyright 2020

Changes

Life-

fading

from its brilliant hue,

magenta, emerald, azure blue

draining, waning as the winds

of sorrow shake it to the core

what went before

seems like a dream

unraveling at the seams

and yet when viewed

with fresh understanding

shadow and form

become the norm 

once again.

Definition,

this rendition 

adds depth and mystery

for the hungry soul.

without the 

technicolor,

with each other

to paint the canvas 

anew. 

Inevitable

this flow

no choice but to go

forward

bravely navigating

the changes.

CKP Copyright Words and Image 

2020

Taking Cover

I'm going into 

hiding

and won't come out

until the storm

has passed

at last

the sun returns

within and

without.

Fear 

so 

powerful

drives 

dark agendas

that block

the light

of truth

and

hope

and

healing.

We cope

by believing.

Wake me

when 

it's over

please.  

Cheryl KP 

2020

Love is All Around..

I decided a long time ago that life is too short to take anything for granted.

People have had many reactions to my ‘obsession’ with photographing life’s moments. I get groans at being dragged from bed before sunrise to await that magical moment when Earth opens her sleepy eyes to greet yet another day. I ignore the pained eye rolls when I insist on hurrying out to watch that same sun make its final descent behind the horizon, giving up daylight’s reign to the mystical night. 

But...who would choose to miss this magnificent moment that has ever truly watched it in awed silence?

The truth is that I don’t take photos as a means of hoarding these memories for myself. They are emblazoned on my soul and rooted in my heart. I take them to share with and inspire others to look around, to see what life gives us with every breath we take, so much of it absolutely freely. 

No regrets,

don’t forget

to see

and be

the miracle

the world 

needs

I had another idea for today’s post but an online friend made a simple statement to me this morning and my focus shifted slightly. Love is, indeed, all around us. Accept it, give it away and it comes back to you; but keep it secreted and it withers. Be safe and well my friends. The now moment matters more than ever before. 

  

Reaching

I’m still here...

Reaching..

through the pain, the doubt,

within, without

trying to ground myself

again.

The world

spinning out, darkly mad,

hearts so sad

as hope gives way to fear

and pain.

The haze

blinds my heart, my soul-

loss of control

shrinks me to infinitesimal 

smallness.

Believing..

beauty lives while we exist.

Persist! Resist

the lie that works to destroy

its face.

Gossamer..

transparent, my thought,

the words fraught

with longing, pleading for

resolve.

Reaching

for the stars, the moon

a gentle tune

to lull me into peaceful sleep

at night.

Living

the ever shifting illusion

without confusion

for my soul knows every step

we planned. 

Ain’t this life grand? 

Cheryl KP

Copyright words and images

2020

Ectoplasmic Existenialism

He found me in a mood that day

electing to drown in my dismay.

Sage and wise in his green robe,

as quickly he began to probe

my deep reflection

with no interjection

as we shared our predilection

for solar emissions.

With his ectoplasmic leavings 

and my soggy sordid grieving

we made mud upon the soil

with a film of rainbow oil

that he collected with a reed

and injected as a seed

into the gray so I could feed

upon its eclectic samplings. 

Spinning like a whirligig

into the past my mind did dig

until it found the moment sweet

I struck out on this road to meet

the infection of a life

with such ecstasy-yet rife

with bumps, detours and strife

I had not expected.

“Brutality subjective,” he stated,

“and yet Nature is berated 

for the necessary consumption

without malice or compunction

of that which gives us sustenance

without monetary recompense

that humans are addicted to.”

As he lingered, contemplating

I considered wise placating

yet decided t’would be best

to interject my calm protest

as I inspected his meager dwelling

and the reason for him selling

such an arbitrary edict

I suppose you are correct

regarding such a human sect

that is gluttonous and brutal

and I know it would be futile   

to explain natural selection

and the process of election- 

farce and folly by design. 

Soon bored with this discourse

he could offer no recourse.

“Dry your silly tears my child.

Within this dream you are beguiled.

Be directed by your heart

and so keep yourself apart

from the Ectoplasmic Existential 

poison dart. 

*Ramblings of a medicated, congested mind in late February

CKP copyright 2020

Calling All Angels...

Can you hear their whispers in the rush of the wind,

feel their love in the rising and setting of the sun-

continuity, constance, caring,

see their presence in every living thing

and know that we are never alone? 

Fear not, for they are here. 

CKP 2020

The Letter P

As it pertains to life's mysteries...

When contemplating the best way to summarize my current emotional/mental/spiritual state today, I find it difficult to connect my heart and mind in the usual way.  Sometimes words are all that pop into my head, and once spoken the dam that blocks my soul's winding path disintegrates, allowing me to float freely into that comforting space of understanding and hope once more. 

The letter P popped into my head and seeded itself, inspiring me to post, finally a light in the darkness that has seemed to be invading my creative flow.  As I pondered my dilemma I thought of the recent pain I felt at the pretentious, placating practice of polite, political correctness that has permeated everyday conversation and how self-conscious that makes me feel.  Not that I have outwardly been anything otherwise in my entire life, but knowing that judgment and the need to proselytize is paramount to society at large has paralyzed my tongue in many ways. It has had me depressed, feeling repressed and removed from my sense of purpose.  The pain of loss was as great to me as losing some of the people who were my soul allies.  I miss them dearly.  

Their presence in my life was constant and now seems so brief in sharp contrast to the vastness of Eternity.  Yet, when I quiet the panicked voices in my head, the truth that remains patiently waiting in my soul permeates my being, reminding me that the true enemy lies within us all.  While the fear which incites pain, its presence undeniably indelible, promotes discord in my heart and mind, the memories of the people who have always been there for me prevails, lifting me from the grip of such despair.

We have played together and stayed together, the pleasure of their company lifting me to heights they may never truly comprehend.  They have been my portion in this life, promoting my joyous endeavors to push on toward a dream, whatever it might be.  

They are precious, constant and never far from my thoughts. When my mind begins to push, prod, poke and try to evoke the dark agenda of fear, the mere thought of these people are like pieces of the puzzle that is my life; and as I begin to reassemble the lovely images of how we laughed and lived together, I am renewed. Joy is the healer of old wounds, and prayer is the incantation of the soul.

It is impossible to be constantly in step with one another, for we are all evolving, trying to pinpoint our own place in the grand illusion of Life; but this is normal.  It is a part of true growth and necessary to progress emotionally.  The platitudes that have driven us often seem weak, for I have "turned the other cheek" enough times for a multitude of humans. Sometimes we must sit and ponder our differences,,,

while remaining close enough to embrace them in the end, realizing that it is our commonalities which define our connectedness, that when all pretense is cast aside, we are all perfection in the thought of the Creator.  In that moment of true realization the mind is so quiet you can hear a pin drop. The heart sings for the knowing, and showing gratitude becomes as easy as taking the next breath. 

Rejoice!! 

You have climbed one more rung on the ladder to complete understanding, acceptance and hope.  Take pleasure in the sweet perfume that is Peace.  

Consider the possibility of a new moment, be grateful if you are not penniless. Pick up a pen and scribble your thoughts, your whims, ideas, worries and dreams.  Choose the delights of your heart and the sweet memories of a life well lived...

and put away the armor you have girded your soul with.  One cannot escape the road to destiny, but must plod onward if there is to be change; and change is inevitable.  It will find us all.  How much more joy is there in understanding life's purpose than putting off our lessons.  The lowliest of God's creatures understand this as they persevere, making homes of bottle caps, crossing perilous highways and accepting that they don't know what the next step brings.

I find true peace in the understanding that we are never alone.  The sun rises and sets each day as a reminder of Creation's constant abidance and abundance.  

I plan to find something pretty today, to remind me how perfect this life is.  How about you, my friend? It all began with a dream...

How about a bit of Patrick Park?  I love this one.