Icons from yesteryear. A life lost too soon in the rush of days.
As children the passage of time seemed endless and slow like dripping wax. Now we blink our eyes and everything has changed. Even a happy medium would allow us to catch our breath before being hurled into the unknown again.
Deborah A. Bowman
We can only hope we learn something as each year goes by.
We age, of course, look for answers, seek wisdom, work, strive…
To be happy, healthy, and whole.
We want what’s best for our family and friends, truth be told.
We look to the past to plan for the coming days,
Not knowing how things can change in a thousand ways.
We want things to get better; we want to achieve great dreams…
But we can’t see the future or rewrite the past, it seems.
So we’re left with hope, a positive outlook, and our beliefs
To bring us joy, accomplishment, relief.
The cold can stifle your breath
Put you to the test
Dry out your skin
Put you on thin ice
So don’t sacrifice yourself
And your health
To freezing temps and hypothermia
Be smart, save your heart, body, mind
Be true, your health will thank you!
Pain Pain reminds me that I’m breathing, still able to appreciate the fragrance of French roast coffee brewing, the diced red pepper, onion and jalapeño mixture sizzling in the pan. Today is a good day. When I roll out the dough for the onion tart, the leg barely protests, and as I sip ginger tea […]
Learning to live with yourself
Is the hardest of friendships
We have such a wealth
Of opinions, words from our own lips
That confuse, bemuse, lose essence
In our own doubt, route, and persistence
Creativity can restore, implore, reward
Harmony, dreams, courage, and soar
Our health to higher heights
And clearer vision with inspired sight…
Deborah A. Bowman
Something to ponder pertaining to the health of the mind and perceptions of a healthy psyche. I recommend this blog reposted here as noteworthy and healing. It teaches us to look at others with open perspective. –bowmanauthor
Some will push me higher, while others will drag me down.
Some will soar with my thoughts, while others will crawl with my shadows.
Some will fill me up, pouring pieces of their own soul into me, while others will empty me with bitterness and their noise.
Some might say that I am a wordsmith, who lubricates words with a pen filled with my own seawater tears so I could write an ocean of love for her.
Others claim that I am a fraud, hiding in between lines.
Some might say that I am a narcotic in the rawest form, you can get high on my words, the kind of high you would get when stardust runs in your bloodstream and galaxies tangled in your mind.
Others claim that I am a drug dealer, and you are that drug addict who keeps coming back for more.
Some might say that…
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