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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.
 
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Daily Cascade
Since my old blog "Everyday Canvas "  became overfilled, here's a new one. This new blog item will continue answering prompts, the same as the old one.
Cool water cascading to low ground
To spread good will and hope all around.
October 13, 2025 at 12:53pm October 13, 2025 at 12:53pm
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Prompt: pets
Write about the best things about being a cat (or any other pet) owner and what your animal friends have taught you.
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Before I talk about the best things, let me talk about the worst thing, possibly the only worst thing. They die. As did my last cat. As did all the other dogs and cats I got so attached to throughout my life. And that broke me in so very many ways.
Now that I've gotten the worst out of the way, let me talk about the "How do I love thee"s when it comes to an animal family member.
For me, being a cat companion, especially of my last cat Noche, meant being immersed into her world of mysterious elegance, her gentle friendship, and her surprisingly profound lessons. She definitely had a certain magic about her. So what were those lessons and joy handed to me by my whiskered wonder?
To begin with, her affection was unconditional. It was a privilege given only to me, I felt. It meant living with her head nuzzles, unrestrained joyful leaps, her purrs against my legs, her nosiness into anything I was doing such as making the bed, her long stares at me with slow blinks in between, and her talking in her sleep while she lay in bed with me at nights.
Noche wasn't a lap cat, but she always found the closest spot to me and I always provided one for her. At times, she liked to be picked up and loved, and her purrs were my constant grounding, a simple happiness of the moment, but she preferred to be put in her seat afterwards. Plus, she knew the comfiest chair or seat or the top of something to snooze in or to watch the goings on in the house.
For an old cat, Noche was truly acrobatic, too. She provided me with unforeseen entertainment very often, as well as lessons on how to live. Her sudden bursts of energy, dramatic pounces, her peculiar fascination with the TV reminded me not to take anything too seriously. She also knew almost instinctively my sorrows and joys, and offered me her healing presence or playfulness.
Having Noche with me meant a journey filled with soft paws, mesmerizing stares, a soothing, quiet symphony of purrs, and our moments of special connection. She wove her magic into my life, giving it another very important meaning. A meaning that still stays with me after she's gone.
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October 12, 2025 at 1:54pm October 12, 2025 at 1:54pm
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Prompt:
Ghosts and the paranormal provide a bottomless source of inspiration for writers.
Why do you think that is?
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Why are writers so taken with the paranormal? I believe it is because the ghost story and the paranormal in its varied forms stay around the longest in our culture. What is paranormal also lies between the known and the unknowable. What it is not, is not the cheap thrill of a sudden scare. This, I mistakenly had thought much earlier and I looked down at all "boo" producers; however, after reading the many works of WdC writers on the subject, I'm reformed now.
In essence, when I think about it, a writer's main task is to explore emotion, trauma, and consequences. Truly, ghosts are consequences, when it comes down to it. They are the residue of injustice, grief, guilt and love, which refuse to die.
Also, this enables a writer to bypass that internal thought, which is often shown in a live character. I don't ever recall a reading about a ghost's internal monologue. Instead, the ghost belongs, usually, with a setting. This setting is mostly a historical place, an old structure. Yet, a haunted house or place preserves time inside it. What we think are random details, like the scent of lilac, the creaky door to the attic, or that cold spot in the library, can be clues left from the past life of a ghost. This allows the writer to look deep into time, possibly the ghost's time, which should reveal itself somewhere in the plot.
Still, the most inspiring quality of the paranormal is its use as a tool for psychological suspense. In short, it tests our perception as humans. It makes what we call reality an iffy idea.
Then, for the writer who is versatile, (not yours truly), the paranormal is flexible and can be used in several genres. "The Ghost and Mrs. Muir" comes to mind, for example. Then, how about the comedic, "Beetlejuice"?
At the end, the true power of the ghost is in its humanity and not in its ability to frighten. And this makes a good writer become interested in only what prevents the ghost or a similar spirit from leaving. This is the ultimate dare of the story writing. This is where the writer's muse always finds its own special voice.
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October 11, 2025 at 12:48pm October 11, 2025 at 12:48pm
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Prompt:
Eleanor Roosevelt: "At all times, day by day, we have to continue fighting for freedom of religion, freedom of speech, and freedom from want — for these are things that must be gained in peace as well as in war".
Do you agree or disagree with Ms. Roosevelt about the value of freedom of religion, freedom of speech, and freedom from want?
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I surely do. Especially the first two. The third one "freedom from want"--although I can sense her meaning here--I think "want" is an iffy word. Granted, "want" may have had an added meaning in Elenor Roosevelt's time and could be substituted for "need."
I say this, because like the silly me, most of us want stuff that we don't really need or maybe only emotionally need. Anyway, most of such "want"s can die in minutes, sometimes.
Now that I've substituted "need" for "want," I certainly agree with what she's saying. Also, there are many other values that may be close in importance to these values, but I guess I'll stick to the quote's three values for brevity's sake.
Granted that these three values are very important, what makes "freedom of religion, freedom of speech, and freedom from want" especially to fight for as values? Yes, I would fight for them like Eleanor, but I would probably choose tact and peace over war. This is because I would worry that gross and aggressive action could have damaging results not only to people but to the value itself.
Then, what if values clash?
Come to think of it, most difficult decisions are choices about the relative weight of a value. I mean. how can you choose to fight for one value versus another! Case in point, how can you trade a value like “freedom” with “security”? Not tradeable, isn't it? And I agree, these two aren’t tradeable...mostly.
The thing is, what happens when this choice involves your entire family's or town's or nation's security? Then, possibly your fight will have to go underground and you would fight underhandedly while still having some security. Is this also a choice? I really don't know the answer to this. I only hope and pray that none of us and nobody in the world will have to face such difficult choices.
The nicest part of the quote, however, is its last section, "for these are things that must be gained in peace as well as in war."
I certainly wish we could avoid all wars and fight for our values in peace, without screaming and scraping at one another.
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October 10, 2025 at 1:34pm October 10, 2025 at 1:34pm
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Prompt:
Write about your neighbors--- are they good neighbors or bad neighbors?
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My neighbors? I guess they are all very nice people, but I don't really know them. Not like the time during the early nineties when we moved into this house. At the time, we were, maybe, the youngest couple on the street. Then, I got to know most of them. Nowadays, everyone is so much younger, as most of the older ones have passed away, and many moved in with family or went into retirement homes.
At this time, I think I am the oldest one around. I know this from the fact that instead of calling repair people for the upkeep of their houses, my neighbors do those jobs themselves. As for me, for such jobs, I have several companies doing the work.
As to my immediate neighbors, those to the left of the house just moved in and I haven't met them, although my son says he talked to them. People to my right are a very sweet couple with grown children. They moved in about six years ago. They are friendly and they gave me their cell numbers and asked me to call them if I ever needed anything, and during the holidays they always bring over goodies and stuff. Those across the street, we just wave at each other when outside.
Part of the problem of being unneighborly lies with me, though. I don't take a walk on the street as I once used to, unless someone is accompanying me. And really, very few people nowadays take a walk on our street, anyway. Then, for me, even going to my mailbox feels like a trip, which means taking at least 100 steps over the concrete one way. Especially I am wary when it rains because slipping and falling on the wet ground would be not much fun in old age.
During the 60s, 70s, and even 80s, when we lived up north, we knew everybody around, but it was then. Times have changed a lot over the years, due to the inventions of many other ways for us to meet and make friends with other people, near and far. Still, I feel good about the people in my neighborhood because we have a nice, quiet street with houses far apart and no one bothers anyone.
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October 9, 2025 at 1:01pm October 9, 2025 at 1:01pm
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Prompt:
What are your favorite Halloween movies you watch every year? Write about them in your Blog entry today.
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Forget about every year. I'm just not into watching Halloween-centered shows or any horror movies. This is because, since the foundation of the horror genre, research into these themes has been quite extensive. Some psychiatrists believe that scaring children (And I add, adults, too) should not be a regular regimen for the general mental health of a nation.
But then, who am I to swim against the tide, when Halloween horror has become so popular! Not wanting to evade the issue altogether, better parents usually sugar-coat it by giving it a comedic edge and possibly ban the view of far-out and taboo scenarios and activities on-screen.
When I try to reduce a horror film to its basics, be it some regular horror or a Halloween movie, its plot mostly has to do with the relationship between a monster, a ghost, a witch, a vampire, or some other scary entity and a normal person or a group of people. Surely, exciting chases and sudden boos give a jolt to the viewers, but this type of a jolt may not be very healthy for everyone. This weird enjoyment of such a jolt defines the horror film or a Halloween movie at its core by serving as the reason and the basis for the entire plot.
Still, during the Halloween time, I go along with the excitement and fill a basket of goodies for the trick or treaters who ring my door. After all, I love children, be it in costumes or otherwise.
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October 8, 2025 at 2:25pm October 8, 2025 at 2:25pm
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Prompt:
"Sea of destiny" is a metaphor for the overwhelming, unpredictable circumstances of life and one's predetermined life path with the journey through it's challenges leading to a final intended outcome or purpose.
Write about this metaphor for your Blog entry today.
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Such a restless expanse that sea of destiny! It shimmers, too, when the sun hits it at a good angle. Best yet, we're all adrift on it, as I am...on its waters woven from my choices and time and my dreams that gleam, hiding my fears deep under it.
Even if my course was unknown, I set sail on it, once, a long time ago, not knowing this sea had a dual nature. I let its waves carry me gently, as if they knew of my longings. But no, soon, the sea tossed me into storms, as it does to most, just to test my mettle and to let me find out if I could float.
Float I did, but I got seasick, too. Silly me, trusting this sea and its horizon!
Then, a strange serenity took over, close to the end of my journey. From where it arose, I can't tell, but just maybe, now I am seeing the truth. The truth that destiny is not a single line on these waters, but a tide that has moved and keeps moving within me, with my every choice and every surrender.
Now, I see this wasn't my taking a trip or going to anywhere, but the sea was teaching me how to move, how to listen to the wind, how to find light in its depths, and how to stay calm on its waves. In a nutshell, this sea of destiny never showed me where to go, but who I could become during the crossing of it.
Who did I become? Now, isn't that the million-dollar question! I'm still sailing, and that alone is something, wobbly though my sails are.
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October 7, 2025 at 1:08pm October 7, 2025 at 1:08pm
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Prompt:
"A witch never gets caught. Don’t forget that she has magic in her fingers and devilry dancing in her blood."
Roald Dahl, The Witches
Fall is a great time for witches. Do you have a favorite witch in a story or in folklore?
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Well, it must be. I mean fall being "a great time for witches." And right now, WdC is teeming with witches, which points to the fact that my favorite witches do reside in WdC. And for me to love and appreciate them, folklore and stories aren't needed, unless of course, our WdC witches themselves would like to come up with their own fantastic stories.
With story writing and magical powers or not, witches represent a tiny piece of the unknown. I seriously believe that witches do not deserve the bad wrap they get. This is because, in our ancient world, although being supernatural, witches were wise women and priestesses. They could be malicious or kind, just like the rest of us.
I rather like to think that they evolved from ancient pagan figures like healers and the elders of the tribes, rather than any evil being. Unfortunately, children's stories, such as Hansel and Gretel, Snow White, and Rapunzel show them in a very bad light.
As for me, after I grew up and got over the dread of Hansel and Gretel's witch coming after me, my better-liked witches started to show up in the mythology. Like Circe in The Odyssey. Circe knew of plants and their healing powers, which makes me wish she was still around to undo the negative that is being done to us by the big pharma, and at times, by the doctors who are in cahoots with the big pharma. Circe also had a descendant, Medea, her niece who helped Jason, and later took off with him on the Argo.
Then, an Italian friend of mine told me about the Italian witch Befana who, before Epiphany, flies around her broom and delivers gifts, a Santa Claus in witch form. The most wonderful thing about Befana is that she is very tidy. She uses her broom not only for flying, but also for tidying up the messy houses she visits. Now, here's a witch, even the old Salem witch-killers would respect.
The stereotypical old witch figure with a hooked nose and warts aside, I tend to believe witches to have dual natures. As I said in the beginning of this entry, I think of witches as being just like the rest of us, especially the WdC witch-writers who can come up with great poems, blog posts, and stories, in addition to their many witchy qualities.
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October 6, 2025 at 1:56pm October 6, 2025 at 1:56pm
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Prompt:
If someone told you that a group of stars are going to appear in a certain pattern, foretelling an ancient curse is about to come true. Would you believe it or would you think of it as nonsense? And would you make up a story about it?
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Making up a story about it would be such fun, but then making up a story about anything is a lot of fun.
As to believing the cock-a-doodle-doo about the star patterns and an ancient curse, it is not my forte. But I can weave a few words around it, can't I! 
Well, okay, here it goes, just maybe a bit on the dark side, but then, isn't a curse's place on the dark side, anyway?
This Cursed Earth
Across the night, they speak
in patterns of light, coiled like serpents,
hunters, swans, and that lion's mane,
burning again with hidden lore
I close my eyes and whisper, "No more!"
a mortal that I am, for a curse has bloomed
in Orion's belt and I hear my dead mother
weeping, from Virgo's veil, never to be seen again
Yet, old gods and rivers mirror the flame
beneath the soil and whisper my name,
for Leo's lamp is on our humanity's failing,
etched in burning runes, for the night
is now a tomb for this earth, which scars
the heavens with its long-forgotten moon's game,
and I am caught in the net of an ancient flame.
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October 5, 2025 at 1:24pm October 5, 2025 at 1:24pm
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Prompt: October
Is there something about this October and the fall season that makes you feel peaceful or calm? Or is October's energy exciting and stimulating?
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There is nothing special about any October anymore, to make me peaceful and calm, since it is the hurricane season where I live. Once upon a time, however, when and where we lived without the threat of hurricanes, October used to be one of my favorite months. Still, I bask in the memory of those days, especially when I remind myself, to "calm the chaos!"
In the back of our then-house were the woods. Some days, I would set off into the woods, leaving the breakfast dishes in the sink, after the kids took off for school and my husband went to work. I loved the swirl of the dim light about me as if it were a liquid something. Then, within those thick woods, I loved to listen to the birdsongs through the trees. The ground of rock and grass covered with the falling leaves would be like a sodden rug to walk on, but I loved the crackling noise of it, and I still miss it. To me, that was autumn's song finding a new rhythm, and its peace calmed me.
No more! And not just the hurricanes. It is the state of the world, the way things have changed so much, some for the better, most for the worst. Better or worse, it's a toss up, depending on many variables.
One of my Catholic friends told me that their church observes October as the month of respect. "Respect the creation! Respect life!"
Nice thoughts, but this isn't easy with the Gaza problem, Ukraine, the World, Ai, and our own USA problems, not to mention the personal problems of each one of us. When I told her this, she said, "But, you should..."
Should? That should is a bully of a word. This is because not only we use it against others, but also against ourselves.
"I should be more on top of things, be thinner, more stylish, more productive, more social, write more, laugh more, read more … "
Hello should, and Welcome our numerous mental health struggles!
So for me, October is neither peaceful, nor exciting and stimulating. Surely, in it, I'll have calmer days and exciting ones, too, but the most truthful thing I can say about this month is that October only heightens my nostalgia.
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October 4, 2025 at 3:30pm October 4, 2025 at 3:30pm
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Prompt: Reading
"Reading is escape, and the opposite of escape; it's a way to make contact with reality after a day of making things up, and it's a way of making contact with someone else's imagination after a day that's all too real" - Nora Ephron.
Your thoughts?
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Me and reading? You hit the nail on the head. I learned to read well enough before I was four years of age and I've never let go of books ever since, this causing sometimes the despair of other people in my life. Well, too bad! I could do nothing about their baseless despair, but take another book-reading cruise.
Suppose, you're taking a cruise, yourself. Surely, the ship or the vessel you're boarding is essential but would you ever mistake the vessel for the journey, or maybe, consider the journey as only a temporary retreat? If you did, wouldn't you be shortchanging yourself?
Similarly, the ship is the reading, and at its most basic level, reading is a form of low-cost, high-yield escapism. Its mechanics could be the physical parts of a book, its weight, ink, fonts, etc. But, what about the journey?
In this journey, you and I leave behind our own worries and anxieties, for the information, and if fiction, for the characters' and the story's borrowed joys and anxieties. This form of escape is necessary as a mental and spiritual cleansing. When we trade our immediate lives inside our familiar living rooms with the exciting cop-burglar chase on the gas-lit streets of Victorian London or the imagined other beings in other forms that attack the space station, we are letting ourselves have the freedom from the tyranny of our present lives.
Speaking for myself, while I read, I am deeply engrossed in the book or its plot and characters. So much so that I stop worrying about the mail or the check I've forgotten to send, the part of the house I've neglected to clean, or what to do if one of my sons has a problem that he may be hiding from me.
Still, the best part of reading, in fact, is that its true magic isn't in its letting us flee reality, but in the transformation it causes in us. When we return to real life from a book, we are not unchanged. What we thought was a temporary escape has caused a permanent change in us.
Let me try to look at those ways of change. First comes the feeling of empathy. When we are reading anything from anyone else's viewpoint, we are borrowing their consciousness. We are borrowing, in a story or in a memoir, the mindset of a slave being beaten or the personal pain of a refugee who carries the loss of his home in his backpack. In this way, reading is an exercise in perspective-taking, and it expands the bounds of the self. And empathy is not an escape but a vital tool for facing life's realities with understanding.
Reading also gives us an intellectual edge. Be it fiction, non-fiction, history, science, philosophy, etc., it helps us gain context, vocabulary, and framework for all our thoughts. A good book gives us not only relief, but also an edge and information about the state of the world and its economy, political unrest, or spiritual agony. It offers language for articulation and understanding. In other words, it provides us with the most necessary tools to manage our confusion about the understanding of any situation.
As we read, we are not just spending hours or being lost in the complex morality of, say, Fyodor Dostoevsky or the economic theories of John Maynard Keynes. Such books are building for us an internal home, an internal architecture, with layered understanding. Such a construction or structure makes any future reality or disaster less overwhelming and painful.
The escape, therefore, is only the first step. The deeper effect of reading is the transformation that enables us to emerge from a book not just rested, but also, entirely reformed and remade.
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October 3, 2025 at 12:27pm October 3, 2025 at 12:27pm
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Prompt:
"After the keen still days of September, the October sun filled the world with mellow warmth...The maple tree in front of the doorstep burned like a gigantic red torch. The oaks along the roadway glowed yellow and bronze. The fields stretched like a carpet of jewels, emerald and topaz and garnet. Everywhere she walked the color shouted and sang around her."
Elizabeth George Speare, The Witch of Blackbird Pond
Prompt: Describe what you see surrounding you as Ms.Speare did.
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Do the colors shout and sing around me like the Blackbird Pond's witch? I don't think so. For where I am, no more the terms like winter, summer, fall, spring, slush and ice, harvest moon, sleet, snow, or leaves changing colors can be applied. Since after we moved to South Florida in 1992, the scenery became a whole new experience.
In addition, instead of snow days, we have hurricane days (actually hurricane months) here. Alternately, terms like sea breeze, wet season, dry season, cone or eye of a hurricane, water spouts, and tropical depressions have taken over. And yes, my eyes, ears, and nervous system are on the lookout for those depressions, at the moment.
On the plus side nowadays, the scorching sun has turned slightly milder, stepping down from its high 90s and 100s. These days, we are in the mid 80s, which still has me using the AC, though not right now. This is because today, we have rain, slightly and on and off, and the sky is cloudy with those clouds veiling the scorching rays. So, I have the fans on and windows and doors open, and for once, maybe I can catch my breath for an hour or so, until the sun takes its walking stick and beats away the clouds. Then, I'll have to close the windows and turn on the AC.
Still, I'm grateful for this break and even if the lack of bright light outside has left its place to diffused light that makes the shades of the trees on the golf course almost non-existent. Even so, everything is bright green, the golf course and my back lawn, despite the very light mist in the air. The leaves and the trunks of the large trees on the golf course are dark green wallowing in that mist.
Years ago, we didn't have those huge trees, when Club Med owned the course. Then, our town bought the golf club and decided to put up those huge "northern" trees to attract the visitors from the North. I shouldn't complain because I am also a relocated northern being like the trees, but I don't think I'd be a source of danger to anyone if a strong hurricane hit. In fact, a couple of those northern trees have partially burned trunks due to lightning strikes.
Talking about the northern facts, sadly, up north, autumn used to be my favorite season. It took me years to get used to the lack of the sight of orange, red, and yellow leaves in the crisp morning air, when sometimes, I could even see my breath.
Then, unlike Mrs. Speare's witch of the Blackbird Pond, there's no accumulated water around my house, except for the stupid pool inside the porch, which its care is costing me an arm and a leg, and I don't even use it because I like swimming in the ocean; that is, if I have to swim. Still, I shouldn't complain. When we get a good rainstorm, the road at the front of the house becomes a river, however for a short while. This is due to nothing staying wet here for long, plus the hot air and the strong sun. And also, just maybe, my ability to witch is way below par. Otherwise, I would probably talk about the "mellow warmth" and a maple tree looking like "a gigantic red torch."
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October 2, 2025 at 12:08pm October 2, 2025 at 12:08pm
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Prompt:
Have you ever bought something because you felt sorry for it but you secretly wanted it? Write about this in your Blog entry today.
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If I remember correctly, I never felt sorry for anything I ever bought. Once I bought a whole lot of grapefruit at a sale in a local fair because I felt sorry for the old man selling it. The people were passing him by, and paying much more attention to other vendors. That poor old man was sitting under the sun, perspiring like crazy. So I bought all his grapefruit, which turned out to be sweet, juicy, and excellent, nothing like I could get in the local Publix.
Then, being me, if I secretly want something, I'll probably buy it if I have the means. If not, I'll forget about it.
The only other thing that comes to my mind is my last cat. My son said he was going to take Noche, their old cat, to the shelter because she wasn't getting along with the other cat and their huge dog, and as the result, she was thrashing their house. So I asked him to bring Noche to me, instead. He agreed, but only on a temporary basis because he didn't want her to mess my house, too.
Well, it wasn't temporary. Moreover, Noche learned or reverted to better behavior in a very short time and I fell in love with her, the weirdo cat! But so cute and loving, too! Unfortunately, she passed away suddenly last year from a heart attack. She was sixteen. Although I've had other cats at different times, Noche is still in my heart and in my cellphone and other devices, in numerous photos.
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October 1, 2025 at 1:32pm October 1, 2025 at 1:32pm
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Prompt:
"My work is the embodiment of dreams in one form or another."
William Morris
Write about this quote in your Blog Entry today.
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I had to check this one. We probably were introduced to William Morris either in the art or the history class too many decades ago, but I have no recollection of it.
According to Wikipedia, "William Morris (24 March 1834 – 3 October 1896) was an English textile designer, poet, artist,[1] writer, and socialist activist associated with the British Arts and Crafts movement. He was a major contributor to the revival of traditional British textile arts and methods of production."
So, William Morris was possibly talking about his entire work in general and the textile design in particular. Several decades ago, I had a friend who was a textile artist, who used to say that textile design is flat, nothing like the three-dimensional view of a good painting. Maybe, but each art is special in its own way.
As to the quote, I guess William Morris was a dreamer. I used to be a dreamer, too, until I discovered "work," for work is the main fall guy. It goes through the grind of putting words on page, battling memory losses and blocks, crafting lines or sentences, tearing them down, and rebuilding them. And this is exactly what I'm trying to do right now, for what it's worth.
Getting back to dreaming, a dream is only a whisper. It's, at best, a pure potential offering many possibilities, such as 'what if's and 'could be's. Consequently, it is fragile, formless, yet with boundless internal landscape. That is...until work steps in as the relentless architect of that formless thing. Work tests and tempers the dream, lets its soul take shape, and becomes the bridge between imagination and reality.
All this made me wonder if work is the antithesis of dreaming. Then, I thought the better of it and realized it wasn't. This is because our work and our dreams move to create together to make an impact, to let us leave a legacy, and to show what we have done become the most tangible evidence of our purpose here on earth. Just like William Norris did.
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September 30, 2025 at 1:50pm September 30, 2025 at 1:50pm
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Prompt:
"When I hear somebody sigh, 'Life is hard,' I am always tempted to ask, 'Compared to what?'"
Sydney J. Harris
In what ways and under which conditions do you think life can be hard?
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While I was in my pre-teen years, my mother got hooked on whatever Dale Carnegie wrote. Although, at the time, I shrugged this off as just a "do-this, do that" type of an advice, one couplet in one of her books caught my attention. Eventually it became ingrained into my mind as a part of my "How-to-live" roadmap. That couplet is, “Two men looked out from prison bars,/One saw the mud, the other saw stars.” So, throughout my long life, I tried to see the stars, although the mud sometimes rose up and to ignore it became impossible.
Stars, mud, or not, life being hard is always something very personal, and also, time-and-situation dependent. It has no one-size-fits-all measure because it takes different forms for different people, while it depends on many external and internal conditions.
Some live with illness, disability, poverty. Others live in war zones and other unsafe places. Still, the worst can be living through emotional and psychological hardships, like loss, death of a loved one, end of a relationship. Life's hardships can also show up in mental health problems in loneliness and isolation, and in one's social and family relationships. Some relationships, be it with parents, family members, or the significant other, can be toxic in very many ways.
Added to all that, natural disasters, accidents, or sudden betrayals can turn a stable life upside down, in an instant. Also, some people become unhappy with shifting situations like losing a job, aging, failure in something, and lack of support and limited means.
Since I went with "let me count the ways" idea so far, reading back all that I wrote, I now realize that yes, conditions can make life very hard, but what makes it even harder, is our own negative beliefs about ourselves, such as low self-esteem, hopelessness, and not realizing what we can really be capable of.
Above all, despite all the conditions that make life so hard, it is important to cling on to our own resilience, hope, and acceptance of the hardships. Then, it is a good idea to admit and celebrate even the smallest of wins we might have been able to accomplish. In my case, for example, after my husband's passing, I couldn't sleep at nights. So, I gathered together a few didactic YouTube videos and learned to fall asleep again while listening to those with earphones. It was maybe a silly medicine, but it worked for me. I think even recognizing the work I did for myself helped me build confidence and a feeling of accomplishment.
In addition, when life feels too difficult, it may be a good idea to talk to a mental-health professional. This may be necessary because such a person may be able to see the situation from his larger angle more clearly and pinpoint where to pay attention and do the work. Still, with a professional or not, the burden is on the shoulders of the one to whom life feels too hard to handle.
In fact, it is never easy going through the painful ups and downs of life. Yet, we can make the unbearable, bearable. We can create our own healing. And we can face our difficulties head on, and go on living happily enough, in spite of life's unwelcome surprises.
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September 29, 2025 at 12:59pm September 29, 2025 at 12:59pm
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Prompt: Courage
"Courage doesn't always roar. Sometimes courage is a quiet voice at the end of the day saying, 'I will try again tomorrow.'"
Mary Anne Radmacher
What do you think courage is? Is courage an innate quality, or can it be learned and developed?
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Oh, all those faces of courage! Is it the one that shows up when life tests me or is it my willingness to face pain, danger, or something unfamiliar, just to help someone else? How can I tell since courage has its shadows, too?
To begin with, I could never be that soldier on the battlefield or the mountaineer scaling a cliff. By the way, I wasn't ever a mountaineer but I tried once to climb a hill with ridiculously funny results, which I wrote about in a blog entry several years ago. Maybe, at that time, my physical courage needed re-education. Come to think of it, it still does.
In addition, there is also that moral courage, which pops up on its own, when I don't do or accept what others accept and do. Although I usually try to steer away from such situations. I guess, however, my forte (sometimes) is emotional courage, which aids me when I have to endure grief, forgive betrayals, and face a challenge or an illness without much complaint.
I think, most things considered, courage, in its essence, is not the absence of fear. It is an internal decision to step up to a challenge, even with fear in one's heart. A firefighter who runs into the fire does not run fearlessly; rather, he still reaches out a hand to save another despite the smoke in his lungs. In such an instance, fear doesn't cancel courage; rather, it carves it.
Yet, some name recklessness as courage. Recklessness or boldness is only noise; that is, noise without thought. In the same vein, I don't believe aggression is strength either, as stubbornness is not bravery. Such attitudes and feelings, like false mirrors, only show a frightened or hurt spirit.
True courage, then, is not always dramatic or loud. It often shows in the smallest of actions like an offered apology or a confessed truth, or a hand extended to help a friend or even a stranger. In many ways, courage can and does develop and can be learned and refined. I happen to think that, possibly, we are put here on earth to learn and gain courage, since without it, our existence is empty and pointless.
So, now, after all what I said and thought about here, I can conclude that, in a nutshell, courage is the strength that reshapes fear and turns it into resolve.
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September 28, 2025 at 1:31pm September 28, 2025 at 1:31pm
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Prompt: Light
“Travel light, live light, spread the light, be the light.”
Yogi Bhajan
What do you think of this quote and how many kinds of "light" can you think of?
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So much illumination! I hope I can make my answer short enough.
To begin with, since it was said by a Yogi, this quote is a mantra, a spiritual roadmap. It shows a four-stage evolution within its one single sentence, from the physical dimension to its metaphysical core. I found this quote to be extremely complex, but also, singular at its end.
Also, the question--asked in relation to the quote--goes beyond the four distinct kinds of freedom, since I'll first take the word light here, as a synonym for freedom. If I am to look at the four stages as freedoms, therefore, they are: Physical Freedom, Emotional Clarity, Active Influence, and Spiritual Essence. I have to say, all that is okay when I try to think philosophically. And philosophically speaking, there is only one light: the divine, universal consciousness, which shows up in our world through the countless choices we make. This one light one, some of us call it, God. The quote, therefore, does not offer four separate lights, but rather four progressive methods for turning into a single, ultimate source of illumination.
Then, philosophy aside, how about electromagnetic radiation, which is all over the universe. I googled electromagnetic light and came up with this little gem.
"There are seven main “types” of electromagnetic light (radio to gamma). the electromagnetic spectrum extends far beyond visible light. In that sense, there are many “kinds of light”: Radio waves, Microwaves, Infrared (heat radiation), Visible light (red through violet), Ultraviolet (UV), X-rays, Gamma rays.
All of these are “light,” just at different wavelengths and energies."
This made me recall the light wheel, which our seventh-grade art teacher, way back when, so insisted that we memorize and take into consideration for our clumsy creations: Red, Orange, Yellow, Green, Blue, Indigo, Violet.
Then, in art and daily life, we refer to light as warm vs. cool, soft vs. harsh, direct vs. diffuse.
There are many other ways of seeing light, even if (psycho-talk here) we don't really see the light, as in: 1. natural light, like that of the sun, fire, and the biological light, which claims that even an olive gives off a light. Go figure!
2. Artificial light from lamps, cellphones, computers, lasers, LEDs, and such.
After all, light, poetically or spiritually, can be a metaphor for knowledge, hope, and divinity. For example, To “spread the light” means to take our internal clarity and share it with a world, which is often lost in darkness or shadow. This light may be knowledge, compassion, grace, and kindness; in other words, empathy.
It is quite possible that there are many other lights in the universe that we, the underling earthlings, don't know about, but our ignorance doesn't stop us from poking our noses into iffy places, possibly in search of more light, like the two Voyagers that are scaling the space and giving the U-tubers enough material to scare us out of our wits. 
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September 26, 2025 at 1:05pm September 26, 2025 at 1:05pm
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Prompt:
“A good head and good heart are always a formidable combination. But when you add to that a literate tongue or pen, then you have something very special.”
― Nelson Mandela
Your thoughts?
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Well...Who wouldn't want to have all that! Unfortunately, we are humans and we lack a lot of stuff to be such a special, almost perfect person. But then, I figure we can fake it just like some do, don't they! And such people can fool some of the people some of the time, but not always. Politically speaking, I could name names here, but I won't do that.
Surely, politics aside, as a philosophical challenge, this combination in the quote is a whole symphony of virtues. It isn't just the mere talent that Nelson Mandela is talking about but a near-perfect human being with intellect, empathy, and profound expression. Well, I'm not going to get cynical about it, since I haven't met all the human beings who ever lived and are living. I guess, it is possible to be that good, and I certainly hope so.
Since I so like taking things apart, I'll unpack this Mandela quote and look separately at its parts.
A "good head" hints at not just intelligence, but also wisdom. What is wisdom, then? The way I look at it, wisdom is the ability to analyze, to pick out truth from falsehood, to make sound judgments, and to understand complex systems. In short, it is the clarity of thought.
A "good heart" is an ethical guide. It could mean empathy, compassion, integrity, and moral courage. In a sense, it may have something to do with real love. Also, it favors fairness, right action, kindness and putting the well-being of others before one's own self. Come to think of it, this putting the well-being of others before one's own self would really irritate at least some of the Stoics. But I digressed, here, somewhat.
Getting back to the virtues, a "literate tongue or pen" suggests eloquence to me. So, I would describe eloquence as the ability to put thoughts into words precisely and with passion. It would mean the capacity to put complex ideas and emotions into words. The aim of it would be to inspire, to comfort, and/or to connect deeply through words.
Be that as it may, to master any one of these virtues perfectly is a big achievement. Yet their power is not in their separate existences, but in their teamwork. For example, a good head without a good heart can mean a lack of ethics, or behavior serving only self-interest. Then, a good heart without a good head can end up in weird, useless actions.
In short, theoretically speaking, I believe it is possible for all these virtues to show in one person, but not as a state of flawlessness. Maybe, such virtues can exist all together, in a developing sort of way, because we humans are meant to evolve continuously.
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September 25, 2025 at 1:28pm September 25, 2025 at 1:28pm
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Prompt:
"Her own thoughts and reflections were habitually her best companions. "
Jane Austen
Write about this quote in your Blog entry today.
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When I first looked at this quote, I said to myself, "This must be Fanny Price, talking." From where I stand or rather have read, Fanny was the only real character in the book Mansfield Park, except for a preacher who loved food too much. Although written about the well-to-do class in society of her time, there are quite a bit of controversial topics such as the slave trade and unusual family relationships in this novel, somewhat different from Jane Austen's most other work.
Fanny Price was made to change her environment and didn't quite fit in with her richer relatives' ways and lifestyles, possibly more at first than later. So, it is understandable for her to turn inward. And not that she felt lonely but she didn't like the superficial interactions of the other characters in her new environment. I am guessing that due to her dislike, her inner solitude and self-reflection became quite comforting to her.
As to the meaning in the quote, at least most of the time, groups, people, and societies usually praise the extroverts who surround themselves with people as charismatic leaders, life of the parties, and are the ones who get things done. They are deemed to be the successes. Come to think of it, this is so true, even in our day.
Yet, for someone with deeper inner qualities, this type of a boisterous success means noise, false and ear-scratching. And at best, people like Fanny, can only just-tolerate it. This is not being aloof but investing in real, meaningful connections. For that purpose, most introverted people are the real observers and listeners who are after a true sense of belonging and emotional security. What they value, superficial interactions can only mimic.
In our time, in our world that is changing so much so fast, (ask me about ai and the inability of companies and society and yours truly to adapt), maybe it would be better for us to pause, take in and process what is happening and what lies beneath the surface. This wouldn't be running away from responsibility but taking time for ourselves, for moments of solitude and peace. It is possible, then, we may find renewed energy and can face the changes in our ways of living.
By taking the time to reflect, I am referring to introverted qualities and focus. Sometimes, a single task can be done much better and more thoroughly than if we scatter ourselves in all directions.
Then, celebrating introverted feelings, attention, and actions is not about putting down extroversion, either. It means our human experience is multi-faceted, and it has richness and satisfaction in the personal and unique way we deal with ourselves and the outer world. So, if we pay more attention to our inner worlds, just maybe, we can find a quiet discovery of beauty in the hidden corners of our psyches.
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September 24, 2025 at 11:58am September 24, 2025 at 11:58am
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Prompt:
"I do not understand how anyone can live without one small place of enchantment to turn to."
Write about this in your Blog entry today.
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Enchantment can be fairy tales, photos of my beloved, the image of my last cat, a memory, a couplet from a poem, the sound of the last notes of a favorite music piece, or anything that means something to me.
Once, when I was a child, I picked a small pebble worn smooth from the top of my great-grandfather's grave and kept it as my good-luck charm, and then, in times of trouble, I held it in my hand, feeling its surface, imagining that my great grandfather was comforting me.
To this time in my old age, my enchantments are subtle; yet, they are like spools of shimmering thread that weave magic through my days. I suspect, therefore, most of us, deep down inside, need a refuge where our souls can breathe after the monotony of the errands, obligations, and the machinery of our everyday lives. This may be because the human spirit can wither if it can find no water to keep it alive, the water from its secret well of comfort and wonder.
Most of the time, those wells of enchantment need not be lavish or luxurious. Simple places--such as a quiet chair inside the back porch to watch the setting sun when it drapes itself in golds and reds, a walk through the woods where the air smells of pine and silence, or the hush of a library aisle scented with old paper--may become doorways into realms where my mind changes what's ordinary into extraordinary. I know this when it happens because, in such places, time slows, the world shows its deeper, gentler mysteries, and I feel loosened with my perspective restored. In other words, my weary heart finds renewal.
Then, inside this feeling of renewal, birdcalls become prayers, raindrops turn leaves into chalices, the setting sun and the shifting shadows become a secret language meant only for me.
These enchantments are openings into a world that listens, hears, breathes, and shows what's hidden inside the noise of my days. This is when my heart loosens its grip of its burdens and weariness, and time bends into something timeless and tender.
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September 23, 2025 at 1:14pm September 23, 2025 at 1:14pm
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Prompt: Heart and the Ocean
“Your heart is like the ocean, mysterious and dark.”
Bob Dylan
In what ways is your heart like the ocean? Are you aware of every single thing that your heart holds inside it?
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Ocean...calm on the surface, at least sometimes, but it is layered. Underneath it, is hidden life, trenches, currents, and our thrash and waste. Just like we are...just like I am.
So much of the heart remains hidden because it must. Why, I don't know, but I understand that I am not meant to peer into its every shadowed trench and dark depths; otherwise, I'd lose my wits, what little of them has been left after my long life.
Just like the ocean, my heart also has its tides. And tides--mine or the ocean's-- shift in silence, some due to the currents tugging at me. Those currents carry memories, hurts, and longings from way back when, and those, I find out to be strange at first, since I never realize I still own them.
My old griefs are the shipwrecks resting far beneath the surface, and the newer ones, I feel only if I look below very carefully.
Then, there is a fun surprise, too. My forgotten joys drift like schools of bright fish, darting to the view when an unexpected light (a sudden recall) touches them. Desires, fears, pride as the result of old achievements, my beloved family and friends' attentions, all live underneath, unseen, only to rise when stirred by a scent, a word, a poem, or the recall of a loved one's memory.
The heart, mine or yours or anyone's, is too large, too vast, too deep, and also, too layered for understanding it in its totality. So we only sail upon it, listening to its hush and warnings, and hearing the roar of its tides. Its darkness is not empty but possibly beautiful in a mysterious sort of way. Its unknown depths are in abundance, to remind us that we are so much more than we realize.
We are not aware of everything our hearts hold because so much of what shapes us hides beneath the conscious thought. Our hearts, within us, therefore, are the oceans of mystery, alive, deep, and infinite.
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