Simply A Peek Behind The Veil

Do I have those visitations others have spoken about? Hmm, maybe, but I never considered it to be the form of my deceased loved ones appearing to me at the foot of my bed, or walking through my house or property.

Veil – a piece of often sheer or diaphanous material used to screen or curtain something or to over the head or face.

 

Hmm, Veil is a word that is used many ways. Whenever I heard the word, I always connected it to the veil on a hat, or a wedding veil. I never considered it to be a curtain or a thin barrier between two worlds, or that loved ones would actually move it aside, and allow us a peak, or a brief visitation along the way.

Considering I’m a writer this concept should be in my “plot twist” tool box. I guess I don’t think of the space between life and death or realms as a veil, I think of them as portals so the idea that I could move it a bit and look beyond, just never even crossed my mind until the last few years.

In 2012 I lost my father and a year later my best friend, then in October 2018, my mother. When things happen so quickly, you often feel there are things left unsaid, and you miss things like quiet conversation over a cup of tea, or comfortable silence while watching television.  At the loss of people who have such a heavy presence in my life, I felt at a loss myself. I missed those moments that may not seem important to people, but they were to me. We didn’t do much for adventurous activities together or go out to restaurants or cafes, but what we did do was enough for us.  I know others may disagree but to each his/her own.

Missing those that we lose is all part of the process of grieving. I miss those that I have lost deeply, I just don’t react in the way many others do. I truly believe I will see them again. That they are waiting for me in Heaven, and when it is my time to go, they will greet me with loving hugs.

However until then I will accept the peeks that they give me. Do I have those visitations others have spoken about? Hmm, maybe, but I never considered it to be the form of my deceased loved ones appearing to me at the foot of my bed, or walking through my house or property.

My visitations, (and I do believe these are visitations) are a gift from God. They are subtle, but I believe they are peeks “Behind the veil.” My visitations come in forms of dreams. Yes, dreams. I dream vivid, colorful dreams of me and the loved one I have lost doing an activity we did together on this earth.

My best friend and I used to sit for several hours, drink tea, and talk about our secrets our dreams, and our life. I have had several dreams with her sitting at my table telling her about issues I’m dealing with now over tea, and she would listen, nod, and listen some more.  Was she a spirit  coming to me in my time of need? *shrugs* I believe strongly she was.

One visitation we had, she was wearing a beautiful flower, flowing, skirt and a light white, silky blouse. She looked fifty years younger than I remembered, and the flower garden we were in was full of sunshine and White Roses, resting on the grounds of a beautiful white home with a screened in porch. It was the type of home; I knew she would have been happy in here on earth. The garden was so warm and peaceful that I didn’t want to leave. I enjoyed those visitations with her; however it has been a while since I’ve seen her. I do miss you, my dear, dear friend. I can only believe that she is enjoying herself cooking up in heaven. She loved to bake especially. I never saw someone as happy as she was preparing for a party or holiday meal. So I believe she is in heaven directing others for celebration feasts.

My Dad has only visited once in a dream, and we didn’t say much. It’s not one that I talk much about cause it was one that was confusing to me,  however, I have had the sudden scent of Cigarette smoke fill my living room,  when I was watching some of the shows we watched together.

I also believe my mom has come to visit me. She chose a small kitchen to visit in, not unlike the one her apartment had when she passed. There was a fine china tea set, sitting on the table with two steaming cups waiting to be consumed. She was sitting on the side by the window with rays of sun surrounding her, just as I would have imagined her. Elvis was playing in the background, and we chatted about things going on in my life now.  I shared things I was doing.  Despite her many issues and complaints, she was always interested in what I was doing, and that’s what we talked about. There was the feeling of forgiveness; hers, mine, ours? Who knows? It could just be the understanding between two people who may have had a hard time understanding each other on this side of the veil.

Were these dreams a peek behind the veil or were they just dreams to help me work out things in my own mind and grief.  *shrugs* I can’t swear to either, but the conditions, conversations, vividness, and peace  I received after having them, I kind of like to believe it was God’s way of giving me the closure, I needed.

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Simply Depression Prt. 2

depression strikes without warning. Not once did it give me a battle cry or any kind of warning that it is about to attack . . .

Simply Depression part 2

Hey! Yeah I know. Forgive me for being so absent of late. January has been a crazy month. I decided my New Year’s Resolution was to be more serious about my Etsy store.  I’ve been developing something that just might have a chance at selling. I don’t mind saying it can be discouraging when you feel like a failure over and over, and how depression tends to keep you in that cycle.  I told myself it was time to break away from those hands that held me down. I was never going to make a chance for me or my store, if I continued to believe myself a failure, and someone who does nothing right.

It’s not easy trying to pull yourself up from that hole you’re in when depression strikes without warning. Not once did it give me a battle cry or any kind of warning that it is about to attack, or give me a chance to fight back.  Because of this attack, any failure I had, didn’t seem like a stepping stone to me as it should in business, but more like I was falling . . . falling . . . falling . . . into the abyss with no safety line to keep me from hitting bottom.

Recently, I’ve notice that it is a little easier to smile, and rejoin life.  That safety net that I was so desperately trying to find, found me. I have support from professionals and family now. I have places to go, and people to call. I can’t say that the tendrils don’t reach for me still, they do, but I know how to fight back, how to find my way around that corner, and keep focused on what I’m reaching for; my business.

So many ideas are pumping through my head, and I’m reach for them, and trying to form them to build that business I was reaching for before it all started. Keeping focused on going forward is what I need to do.  I do understand that depression will always linger in the shadows, but using  my circle of support, and taking it one day at a time, I will reach the goals I have set for myself, and be that successful person I desire.

Pass the love around and God Bless

Bonnie

 

 

 

Simply Christmas

Christmas was a happy time for our little piece of the universe; perhaps that is why I remember it with such fondness.

Part 1
12-20-2018

T-Minus 96 shopping hours left before Christmas! And all is well!

Sorry, I just had to do that. Sorry if I sent you into panic mode. I could have subtracted sleeping time, but I didn’t know how many hours a day everyone slept. I was a late shopper this year as well due to an injury, so online shopping it is, and do you know that even that is becoming a bit stressful. I saw a few. “Sorry this won’t arrive until after Christmas” notes on some of the first pick items I wanted. I discovered that the only way to get ahead that way is if you shop on Cyber Monday or Cyber week. Okay Lesson learned. *Smile*

But today’s blog is not about shopping, or critiquing how you shop or even your choice of shopping. This is simply about the “Ghost of Christmas past”. So close your eyes and take a magical journey with me.

Imagine being that child again and smelling the scents of Christmas. The sweet, sweet smell of the tree the night Mom and Dad brought it home. How it spread throughout the house. The very smell that would tell you it was the beginning of the Christmas season, and it was almost time for Santa to come. Decorations, centerpieces, and my mother’s manger would come out. Oh what wonderful time it was. It was like there was a peace in our house for the season, and lots of activities planned to celebrate the season.
We always waited until the next day, or afternoon to decorate, because the tree had to “settle” as my father would say, and so the next day we would go to school, church, or whatever our activities were for the day, and we would anxiously await that moment when we were all together in the evening to decorate. First it was dinner then the adult prelude of lights and streamers, and then it would be our turn. Under the expert guidance of our much more experienced parents, and older siblings, the youngest of us would adorn the tree with the baubles and decorations of the ages. Sometimes we would make paper chains, which our parents would happily allow us to put on the tree or around the house. Christmas was a happy time for our little piece of the universe; perhaps that is why I remember it with such fondness.

Another activity I remember about Christmas was caroling. Every year our family church would gather together, and we would go around town caroling. One thing I will never forget is my mother’s voice lifted in song. She had the voice of an angel, and I think one of the reasons I went every year was just so I could hear it; well that and the hot cocoa at the end; it was made with warm milk, and it was very creamy. They enhanced the sweetness with marshmallows floating on top slowly melting into the hot liquid. A delight to the taste buds of adult and child alike.
I also recall skating at what was once called the town common, now a privately owned

two girls ice skating
Photo by rawpixel.com on Pexels.com

tennis court in the middle of town. There were Barrel fires, warm clothes, and ice skating. I’m not sure who hosted it, or who was in charge, all I remember was having the time of my life. I don’t remember the year it happened, nor if it was something that only occurred once or an annual celebration, but it was such a Joyous time that the snippets are ingrained in my memory.

Do you have favorite memories of your Christmas past? How often do you share them in the Christmas present? Try it.

If you’re having a hard time, this season, finding a moment to be happy Let the “ghost of Christmas past” remind you of a time where tears could be changed to laughter, and bring it forward to combine with some grains of “The ghost of Christmas present.”

We just lost my mother in October, but we remembered her love for Christmas, and we made sure we celebrated Christmas before she passed. I dedicate this “ghost of Christmas present moment”, to her. She loved paper chains, homemade Christmas Decorations, and lifting her voice in song this time of year. She sings with the angels above this Christma

s to celebrate the season with God, and she looks down on those she loves here on earth. If we listen real carefully, maybe we can hear her.

Christmas is here, we can’t put it back in the box. Yes it is one of the most hectic times of the year, but also one of the most blessed times of the year for family. Make a paper chain, or a popcorn chain. Paint your own Christmas ornaments for the tree. Make some memories, share some with others; because once you have them, nobody can take them from you.

Merry Christmas, and God Bless.

Simply Depression

 My path through depression started on 911 only I didn’t know it until years later;

Simply Depression
Dec. 17, 2018

     Hi, Readers, It’s been a hard several years for me. I shut down everything I used to find pleasure in. I was in a pit so deep, I didn’t think I’d ever return to the first love of my life; writing. I felt abandoned by God, and by those that were closest to me, I felt as if  I was only there to live  in the shadow of others. I felt like I wasn’t worthy of the ground I walked on. It was depression. I just wanted life to stop. However God knew this was going to happen, and he gave me the courage to talk to the people I needed to talk to, and set me on a path of recovery.

     My path through depression started on 911 only I didn’t know it until years later; I didn’t understand how someone could hate America so much that they could kill 3000+ innocent people simply for being. How could humans harbor that much hate for others, much less an entire Race, ethnic, cultural or religious group? I just could not understand a hate of that depth.

My heart ached so much, I was so confused, and so angry. I’m sure the rest of the country felt the same thing, but I, myself, never let myself show that much anger. I listened to songs, and cheered the singer on when they sang a song that stirred the fire within my soul, but I never let it out. I wrote and developed characters that represented the emotions stirring within me. I continued to let it eat at me.

For a while, I actually thought that was helping me, but within a couple of years, I had hit writers block, and though I had written books and self published them, nobody was buying them. That experience compounded my depression, I couldn’t write, I had given up. Personal things started happening in my life that were keeping me busy, but they were also dragging me further into that pit, until one day I just woke up, and there was nothing but darkness. It happened so subtly that I didn’t know it was coming, until it was holding me down, and I had no strength to fight  back.

Nothing that used to make me smile did anymore. I had panic attacks, anxiety, fear I could not explain. The thought of going anywhere outside of my house terrified me. I didn’t want people to tell me I was a failure. I didn’t want to believe I had totally ruined my life. I hated myself, my life, and the world I lived in. I believed everybody I met felt the same way. It was like being in a whirlpool, and I was drowning. At times I thought I would be better off dead, and my family would be better off without me, and yes I came very close to checking out. It was in my thoughts daily. 

The 2016 elections rolled in, and OMGosh, so much hate, so many hateful attacks on each other’s character. The worst part was seeing it unfold between family members on Facebook. I could not believe what was happening, and no matter how hard I tried, I could not help the cracks I started seeing in the foundation in my family.  I took it on myself. I was once again a failure. 

I had much unpleasantness in my life as a child, and I was psychologically beaten into the definition of a submissive. I never said no, to anyone, nor did I want to disappoint anyone.  Little did I know that state of mind would later set me up to fall into a deep depression. A damaged adult, who was going through the motions. I would have to justify who I was or where I came from to my own children even! It was better to melt into the shadows, and continue being his wife, or their mother, their sister or even their employee; the whole time I was being sucked into the sinkhole beneath my feet.

My writing was the one thing I was able to use as an outlet, but even that seemed to desert me at this time. I worked on crafts. I loved them, and I thought I wasn’t half bad. Again, however no one seemed to agree. This time, however, I had gotten the help I needed. I was beginning to believe in myself again. I was still gun-shy about picking up that pen, and creating a single character, because I was so afraid of “failure.”

I went through my sessions, and started the long journey of pulling myself out of the hole. The first session I talked a little, but it wasn’t until I talked about 911 did the floodgates open, and I realize that was the starting point of this whole terrible journey. I have illnesses, and conditions that keep me from working; that and the fact that my best friend and both my parents passed on, which kind of set me back a bit, but I knew what was happening, and I was able to hold on to a safety belt or something that I could use to rebound, because I recognized the signs.

I still have my moments when things try to pull me back down, but if they do, they become the topic at my next session. Will I ever be able to walk away from that office? Who knows? I’m taking it one day at a time.
Within the last month, I’ve started researching articles, and opening up my Scrivner program to not only write my blog entries, but to also work on a new writing project.
During my pre-depression days I wrote, produced, and directed stage plays; Christian themed. The last one was in the early 2000s. The reward of seeing my characters come to life, and the story unfold was like nothing I had previously experienced, and I just couldn’t explain it. I thought I would never get to feel that again. But me sitting at my lap top and taking the first step of writing the play, tells me that one day I will reach that again. At least seeing it unfold is my first goal. *Smile*

Thank you for reading, and don’t forget to leave a comment or share.

Love to all, and Merry Christmas!

Simply Semantics

Wow! Do we writers have a superpower or what? “What power?” You say. Why the power to manipulate your thoughts, your emotions, your heart; your topics at the dinner table, and your reactions to a fiction or non-fiction event in the life of a character’s, or someone you have never met. So much so that you become captivated by that event which the writer wants you to be drawn into. Not only are you drawn into it, but before you know it, you actually take on the writer’s opinion and their belief in what they say. What a super power huh?
How many of us have been pulled so far into a story that we have cried at the drop of a hat or “Body” in the depths of a story. How do we do that? How do we drag you in so effortlessly? Well it’s our word choice of course. Word choice is so important in the written word. As stated in this comment:

“The goal, in the end, is to write emotion without explicitly stating it. With the right combination of characteristics, imagery, thoughts and actions, your readers should be able to infer the emotion through context.”[http://avajae.blogspot.com/2013/10/how-to-write-emotion-effectively.html]

Interesting, hmmm? How do you think an author pulls at your heart strings? A journalist gets your attention? The media gets you to stay on their news channel until the next story. It’s all in the semantics, ladies and gents. Semantics are a writer’s best friend. Look at the group of words below.

Invasion

Migration Migrate

Migrant Emigrant

img_1259-e1543624921510.jpg

Pilgrimage: Caravan: procession

Wow, aren’t those words familiar, especially to you 24 hour news junkies. Let’s try it on for size.

      I don’t know about you, but when I hear [1] invasion . I think of warriors running at a boarder armed with guns, knives, light sabers, and weapons, meaning to cause citizens physical harm and annihilate them. Really? News opinionist (yes I intended to use that word) love using words like these. Their intention is to sway your opinion to their side of the debate / argument. (I’ll let you fill in the word you would use in that comment.) Consider the impact of whatever word you use. It could change the reaction of your reader.
     Opinionists’ want you to believe what they say is the God’s honest truth, and the basic subject may very well be, but how they approach that subject is basically their view so they’re going to use words that will persuade you, and bring you to their side; their “Opinion.” That is why they use phrases like. “You know what I think?”; “Here’s my take.”; “This is what I’m seeing.”; “Here’s what I believe”; whenever the word I comes into the phrases my antennae always goes up. I approach with caution, and I look for the trigger words. The words which will “Trigger” a reaction from you. Words that are intended to make one “Angry” or “Question” yourself, your conclusions, or the facts.

     Think of the word invasion[1], how it is being used to describe the travelers coming from Honduras the [2]Caravan There is a visual word for you. Look at the meanings for it. The media latched onto that word fast. I, myself would call this event that is happening at our border a [3] migration “In my opinion”, it could be a [4]Pilgrimage Now I like that word, it suggests adventure, discovery, and a new life at the end of that journey. See how many different words could be used to describe one event and each one can evoke a different reaction from the reader or audience of the writer. Let’s look at a couple more; one is a favorite of the media, because it pulls on the heart strings a bit more.
     Some people will call our ban of travelers [5]Refugees or a very closely related synonym because it evokes strong emotions. Another term that they may also evoke sympathy from interested parties is [6]Emigrant . Have you found your word yet? The one that expresses your opinion about a very newsworthy event, happening in our country today? Which one would you use? Myself? I kind of like Emigrant and pilgrimage or Migration.

The Caravan of emigrants is migrating to America to find a better life for them and their family.

     This is a much gentler presentation about the people trying to take refuge in our country. It’s all in the semantics and the presentation. Writers do this in their works, and the media does this in their news stories.
     News used to be about reporting the facts and presenting it to you. It’s about flowers, grit, and opinions. In today’s cutthroat world of media battles, semantics and presentation have become more important than ever. You need a little dose of all three of those in the paragraphs on your page.
     Personally I don’t think opinions have any place in presenting the news, but unfortunately there is a fast growing audience for that.
     In my opinion, Opinionists have led way too much anger and distrust among their listeners, readers etc . . . . What we have in this country is misguided information sent out by misguided leaders, and a ratings hungry media. They need a way to persuade you to come over to your side. Semantics and Opinions give them a door.
     What about those of us in the middle, like me? At one time I could was a “party” girl, and took whatever my particular “Side” said as truth, but not anymore.
     Over the last few years, I have moved to the middle and declared myself and Independent I put my hands up, palms out, arms straight and I push as Sampson did on those columns, and push with all the strength I have. I have no use for the conflicting opinions, Nor the semantics or the use of hard core emotional words to sway me one way or the other. Both parties do it, and I’m done with the game. I want what’s real. I want to feel the warmth of love and kindness, and the satisfaction of helping others. I want to see what my country was meant to be. The hard core semantics used out there are just games of words, to people, a means to an end, but I want the truth, not their version of it, and only readers can stop what the opinionists are doing to cause more division in this country, my country, my home.

Continue reading “Simply Semantics”

Simply Confused

Image result for Images of confused

Nationalism -[nash-uh-nl-iz-uh m, nash-nuh-liz-](noun)

  1. Spirit or aspirations common to the whole of a nation. 2. Devotion and loyalty to one’s own country; patriotism.

3 excessive patriotism; chauvinism.

Uh-oh (ducking) Please don’t throw anything I’m just writing because no matter how long I ponder, I just don’t get it!

What is this word that has caused so much chaos, and arguing back and forth?  I’ve highlighted meaning two is it really wrong to be loyal to one’s country?  To be a patriot? To want to care for those in need here in our country first or is it just that like so many times before people have taken a word, and picked and chosen a word with a meaning that suits their needs for the times.

 

I know we should help others, because that is the Christian thing to do, but what of our vets coming back from war? Are they getting what they need? Do they deserve consideration? Am I evil because I want to focus on them and the homeless in our country, before I focus on others? Am I racist, because I want programs developed to stop the killing of our children in schools and on the street; no matter their race?  Am I unfair because I think money should be given to programs here to help those in need? We have elderly who can’t afford to keep their house warm, or keep themselves fed. Parents who can’t make enough money to feed their children or worse yet, keep them in a home or apartment?

 

Is it wrong to want to straighten out the systems at home to save children that are in homes and suffering unspeakable horrors?

 

By reading the above definitions, I don’t see the problem. I don’t disagree that other people running from horrors in other countries need our help, not by a long shot, but I do believe we should help those at home first.  I believe we should be supporting our home first.  I don’t pay the mortgage on my neighbors house first, I pay mine first. If I can I help people financially, (and I’ve done it many times before), but not before I took care of my own first.

 

Growing up a welfare child I know what it is like to go without, I am familiar with the struggle to try and make ends meet with that check. I know how easy it would have been, if not for my mother staying at home, to get involved in a situation that would have changed the path of my life, but it was hard on her doing it alone.

 

Why does everything in this country have to be a fight? It is getting soo old. I have been fighting my way out of depression for two years now; because the hate that divided this country was just do heavy on my heart. It is knocked me down, and I couldn’t get up. I have not written on this blog for almost a year because it was getting too dark to see my way out.  We all have our breaking point, and I had reached mine. Hate was tearing apart everything I held close.

 

HATE and HATE alone is  the dark monster that sneaks into your soul, and before you know it, it will absorb you. You and you alone are part of the line of defense to stop it from consuming our country and eventually our world.  We have to be the ones to stop it.

Happy Thanksgiving to all!

Simply Lost Dreams

 Have you ever felt trapped in a job or activity that you didn’t like simply because somebody told you, you belong there? If you say no, you are one of those endangered species who have had everything go right for you, and I would love to have coffee with you, and find out your secret to life.

Dreams are what make us who you are . . .

 Have you ever felt trapped in a job or activity that you didn’t like simply because somebody told you, you belong there? If you say no, you are one of those endangered species who have had everything go right for you, and I would love to have coffee with you, and find out your secret to life.

Unfortunately, I’m not one of the lucky ones. As for me; I have so many unfinished dreamer paths in my life that I could fill the pages of a book on how to not help yourself  that would probably become a best seller.

My reasons for not finishing them; rejection, sabotage by people close to me, a person I admire or love greatly telling me I won’t get to the brass ring because I didn’t have a “Degree” in that specific topic. Even if I had classroom certificates for the activity; Oh and one of my favorites, “You’ll never get that far, because you aren’t as good as others before you.”

What about the person in life who always has to compete with you or the person who always has to give you something else for you to do that takes you away from what you want to do simply because what they are doing is more important (or so they believe). Yeah. That’s my favorite too.

In all of life’s complications, and interruptions, why must we give up what makes us who we are?  Who says they are worthless, and they will go nowhere? It’s not only those that are lucky that realize their dreams, it’s those that work hard, set goals, and follow a path to get to where they want. My problem is that I let those around me interrupt my dreams, and tell me “they aren’t going anywhere”, or that “I’m not good enough”, or that dreams “should be hobbies”, or that “I should tend to the obligations that they lay out for Me.” Or that “I’m not doing it right.”  Because, their way is the only way to do it, so I should do it that way too.  Whatever happened to individuality? To believing in yourself? To having faith in yourself? Having family and friends encourage you, and supporting you? Whatever happened to dreamers having the freedom to follow a path and a goal?

Here’s what mainly holds me back, I am 55 years old and I am afraid of failure. My faith in myself is seriously lacking, because over the years I have been put down, or shoved into holes that I just don’t fit into.  I have nobody that is close to me to share, and talk about my dreams or my path to them. I have nobody who encourages me, or takes an interest in who I really am, or what my interests really are. There are times I feel so alone, and that doesn’t do a lot to encourage me to reach for that brass ring either.

What has changed? Too many people are thinking about how they have to keep the peace by keeping what is important to themselves out of the conversation, especially if they know the recipient has no interest in “that” conversation.  It has become a very lonely world we live in when everyone has to lose their individuality to please others.

My Love to All!