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.
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.
It's great that gardening does so much to refresh and sustain your spirit. For me, it's classical music (mostly); a 'black thumb' barely begins to describe my "skill" with plants.
The narrator considers that all Fridays are unlucky because of religious beliefs related to Jesus' crucifixion and links to witchcraft. The superstition of Friday the 13th relates to Judas as the 13th guest at the Last Supper and the Knights Templar's downfall. The author prefers Sundays for fewer scam calls and hopes for better regulation.
I enjoyed reading the history of Friday the 13th. I'm always impressed by the day when I think of it, but then I tend to forget and carry on as usual. I don't think anything unforeseen has ever happened to me on Friday the 13th. Unless something happens today.....
Prompt:
"Healing takes time, and asking for help is a courageous step."
Mariska Hargitay
Do you ask for help when you need it? Or do you hesitate?
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Healing is uneven and time is a factor. Not only the physical part of healing but the psychological part, also.
In my case, during my earliest years, I never had to ask for help. I grew up in a big house as the only child with my mother, my grandmother, my grandmother's foster daughter, plus the men, grandfather, uncles and such who came and went and saw to my needs without me asking for help. Later on, during the first years of my marriage, I wouldn't even ask my husband for anything, which made him quite upset, and one day, he talked to me about it. So I started to ask him for help while feeling embarrassed about it.
I'm still not very good about asking for help, now that I have only my two sons. My sons, however, are onto me by now, and the younger one, whose place is closer to me, takes the initiative and asks me if I want this or that done or if he could bring me something from the store. I do appreciate that attention a lot, from both my sons, needless to say.
Even so, asking others for help, for anything, takes a lot of courage for me. It may just be that I might be equating asking for help, subconsciously, with weakness or dependence. Maybe, deep down inside, I am afraid of being a burden, being judged and dismissed.
Unlike me, for some others, the reluctance of asking for help may come from earlier bad experiences when they weren't trusted about their pain or need being real, and they weren't believed. So they don't want to live through those rejections, and therefore, they hesitate to ask for help.
Logically, I know that asking for help is not a weakness, and enduring everything alone does not point to courage. Plus, I see that human connections require togetherness, and asking for help is one of them. Who knows, as I am getting really older and older now, I may have to begin to ask for more help from others as I go along.
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