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About This Author
My name is Joy, and I love to write.
Why poetry, here? Because poetry uplifts its writer, and if she is lucky enough, her readers, too. Around us, so many objects abound to write about. Once a poet starts with a smallest, most trivial object, he shall discover that his pen will spill out what is most delicate or most majestic hidden inside him. Since the classics sometimes dealt with lofty subjects with a lofty language, a person with poetry in his soul may incline to emulate that. That is understandable. Poetry does that to a person: it enlarges the soul and gives it wings. Yet, to really soar, a poet needs to take off from the ground.
![Joy Sweeps [#1514072]
Kiya's gift. I love it!](http://www.InkSpot.Com/main/trans.gif)
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Everyday Canvas #910706 added May 8, 2017 at 2:22pm Restrictions: None
Fake Information and Earlier Years
“What are some of the things they told you at home and at school that sounded good and wholesome when you were growing up, but you found out they didn’t really work for you in your life?”
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Since it has been so long a time, this difficult to recall, but I’ll start with my wedding vows and go backward, if I can. I know there was a clause in the vow that said “obey” for women taking the oath. I told someone to tell the person marrying us to not say it or else I would say no at the wedding. I guess my warning was successful and I vowed to “respect” instead. This was 51 years ago.
Another thing was “You can be anything you want to be” or in the same vein “The road is open in front of you, waiting for you.” Not true. We can only be what we want to be after jumping over a few hurdles, and even that is not easy and, for what I have experienced, not everyone can be what they want to be for many different reasons.
Going further back, “Obey your parents. They know what’s best for you.” No, they didn’t. They knew what was best for them where I was concerned. So, I half obeyed until I was out of the woods. Luckily, I was part of a wonderful extended family whose members helped me unbelievably.
Then, all the subjects we took in school were supposed to help us think. Sure, I wonder how the details of Jenghiz Khan’s invading India or Algebra two, Calculus, and Theoretical Mathematics helped me learn what I really wanted to learn, which was/is Literature and Poetry.
Going back still, I recall the health warning. “Don’t stand in cross airs. You’ll catch cold,” which pointed to standing between an open window and a door or two open windows or wind coming from opposite sides of me. Medical science says one only gets a cold if one gets the virus.
Another one, “Don’t play with mud; your fingernails will be crooked.” I still did and my fingernails were never crooked, at least when I was younger.
I am sure I’ll remember a lot more if I force myself to look back, but this is all at this time.
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