Hey! Hey you!
Can we talk for a minute? No, you’re not in trouble. No, it’s not that. No, not that either. I don’t care what you did in your past. I’m just a little concerned. You’ve been staring at that closed door for a long time.
Oh, it’s locked.
No, I’m not security. No, I’m not a monster from your past. No, I’m not someone trying to sell you snake oil, but that was pretty funny. I like that. You have a bit of sarcasm in your sense of humor.
Where are you going? I just want to talk…
I turned sixty this year, and the one thing that the pandemic gave me was my dream hair color — Marilyn Monroe blonde. Yes, we all know it is pure white from age, but a girl can dream.
What is unique about me? Nothing and everything rolled into one. The nickname jules represents who I am beneath the surface of titles, labels, formalities, and it is how I sign my artwork, and I consider writing an art form.
I guess the most unique thing about me is how I travel my spiritual path. It all started in my early thirties…
I am a wordsmith, not just a writer. I attempt to apply craftsman-like skills to the written usage of my words. I believe, within my core, in the power of words. An artisan who deems pleasure and joy by melding words as a blacksmith melds and forges a simple metal block into ornamental or practical art pieces.
My morning writing adventures are not just applying words to paper. I go surfing on the web of the world and follow where my intuition and inspiration take me. Often, I get lost in the black hole of this web. …
Distorted images of once was
My mirror broke today, shattered into a million pieces. The family heirloom passed on for generations, left in my care to continue the traditions, fell from its place on the wall. Reflections of me now lie on the floor with only remnants of what once was. But it’s not me that is broken; it’s the mirror. My thoughts wander through the shards of toxic memories as I start picking up the pieces. A lone tear glides down my cheek as I recognize the parts of an image that once was.
Displayed across the floor are…
Symbolism and memories seem to feed my conscious recognition of synchronicities that occur daily. Maybe it’s my age, or perhaps, I’m just an old soul, but I am enamored with the correlations, an intertwined storyline of evolution, between history and current interests.
As my aging moves me beyond the midlife crisis phases to a place of peaceful remembrance, I begin to fill my bucket with missed experiences. Questions of mortality and legacies propel a review of our life’s timeline with a reality of the shortness of our earthly stay approaching. …
Do you remember playing Simon Says as a child?
Simon Says — hop on one foot.
Simon Says — hop on the other foot.
Simon Says — spin in a circle.
At that point, if you stopped, you were out of the game. But how many of you, as writers, play that game with yourself.
Simon Says — Quantity is significant, so write every day.
Simon Says — You can earn $$$$ if you follow this advice.
Simon Says — Write to the algorithm.
Simon Says — Format this way.
“You’re only as sick as your secrets.” My secrets are held tight within my box of denial. Denying my shame and strength, an inner division of the parts that shapes who I am. The multitude of wooden boxes that hold my decades of denial safely tucked inside my journals. Yes, the journals I spoke of before to be buried with me when I pass on from this world.
Held tightly within the box of denial are the words, “I am.” Labels we give ourselves to state who we are. Things like I am ashamed; I am unlovable; I…
Every thought we think is creating our future ~ Louise Hay.
August 3oth. On this day, two phenomenal spiritual leaders crossed over. Louise Hay, six years ago; Wayne Dyer, four years ago. These two were friends, and both devoted their lives to helping others.
Louise Hay is in my top 3 writers that completely changed my life. Introduced to her work over two decades ago, it hurled me into a path of healing, and I’ve never looked back.
After a few years of immersing myself in the belief in her teachings that I could heal my life, I started to…
Content is King! As a content creator, it is essential to ask, “Who’s in your court? Who are members of your “tribe” or “golden circle” or “royal court”? Do you follow the advice of successful creators? Or do you walk to the beat of your own drum? Maybe, it’s a little of both.
I am a reader, first and foremost. It easily satisfies my desire for perpetual learning. I was a paid member of “Elephant Journal” for years before discovering the Medium platform.
A little over a year ago, I committed myself to invest in my future. Building a business…
Through the actions of a child
Gratitude does not give justice to the pure heart expansion my grandson fuels. The complete and utter epitome of love at first sight. Reminders of what love “feels” like in its purest form: raw, undefined, unspoken yet consuming energy flowing from spirit to spirit. By mere gaze, soft-touch, swaddled within the crook of your arm, their massive energy overwhelming every fiber within your being. That, for me, defines what it means to be human.
Within that first moment, my grandson saved my heart.
Within seconds of cradling the next branch of the family tree…