Tag Archives: love

Replace Hate

Hiya crazies!

How goes it?

It goes well here. Well, kinda well.

 

Anywho…

I teach a Sunday second hour class every other Sunday and thought I’d share something we and the kids did a month ago or so.

If you balk at organized religion, this is more about being human than anything. Or, I should say, humane. Which, if you ask me, is something we seem to lack. But that’s a rant for a different day.

There’s this teacher dude with this awesome “Erase Meanness” thing.

I’m real articulate today.

Dude is here. Check it out. Really. Go.

Now!

 

You back?

Yes, that was Kevin Bacon on his page-thingy.

Okay.

 

I went in a half hour early and wrote negative words on the board. In the center of the board, I wrote “Satan is Hate”. You can re-word this as “replace hate…”

 

I then had the crazies erase a word and replace it with a kind word. In the center, it then read, “Christ is Love”. Again, for a non religious example, you can simply write “with love”.

 

We can all replace hate with love. We can treat each other with respect and kindness.

Not saying that I wouldn’t protect myself or those I love, I’m simply saying we don’t need to be so needlessly, ridiculously, bloody cruel.

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Valentine’s Day: History and Different Kinds of Love

We’re going to jump around a lot.

Prepare yourself.

 

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I like Valentine’s Day! It’s a celebration of love. You don’t have to be dating or married to celebrate it. Do you love anyone? Well there you go.

There are many kinds of love. You love your friends, don’t you? I know I do. Do you love your family? Your animals? Yourself?

I never understood why people complained about being single on Valentine’s Day. I never understood complaining about being single in the first place. You don’t always have to be in a relationship. Wait for what’s real, don’t desperately pine for a lover.

We all deserve love in our lives, whether it be friends or lovers, family or pets. During Valentine’s Day, I like to celebrate all the love in my life, regardless of society’s strict focus on romantic relationships.

 

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Some Strange History

Muddled would be more accurate. It’s a murky pool of educated guesses. If I had to give the history an accuracy level, I’d give it “most likely”. Unless someone can pop out a time machine and travel through the times with a notepad and a camera on record, there’s no way to one-hundred percent tell.

(If you do have a time machine, I hope a meteor falls out of the sky destroying you, your time machine, and anyone else that knows of how you made it. Because time travel would be a terrible mistake. Just saying.)

It began as a pagan celebration. Men would sacrifice animals, strip the hide into pieces, dip them in blood, and slap women with them. Women would line up for this, believing it would make them more fertile. Then young woman would put their names in a hat (okay, I doubt it was a hat), the single men would pick a name, and that’s who they’d pair with for the coming year.

Then there’s a confusion of three different Valentine saints according to the Catholic church. I think they all died. I’m not too sure about that. I know one of them did. But no one knows why for certain.

…Somehow this turned into Valentine’s Day. If you want a more in depth detail, check out the link at the bottom.

 

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Something else that irks me during this holiday, is how everyone just files off, buys a card, and that’s that.

WHAT?!

Do something personalized.

You don’t have to break the bank. The point is to know the person you love and get them or make them something small that you know will show them you really see them and find them important in your life.

This Valentine’s Day, I got an adorable little stuffed animal – an animal I like. I made little clay figurines for the people I love.

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I’m relatively new to making clay anything, so no judging.

I’m not saying I don’t want to see any elaborate romantic gestures, I’m saying don’t let it be about buying a card and that’s it. It’s become way too commercialized for my taste.

So by all means, buy flowers and throw all the chocolate at me! But find a way to make it meaningful. It’s about love. Not money.

And if you’re all alone – buy something nice for yourself and enjoy it. No shame. New rule: love thyself. Life is always changing. Love what you have now.

 

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What’s your favorite flower?

Flowers are a huge thing during Valentine’s Day. I always wonder at the flowers in the store. Who’s going to get what? Why? Does anyone know what kind of flowers the people they’re buying them for actually prefer? Or are the people who don’t care, just love flowers or appreciate the gesture regardless?

My favorite flowers are black roses, white roses, orange roses, and dark colored carnations.

And another thing, do men get upset when their significant other brings them flowers? I so want to be able to do that in the future. But I hear some men don’t like it.

Illuminate me, would ya?

 

I hope you guys and gals all had a lovely Valentine’s Day!

 

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More Valentine’s Day info:

http://www.history.com/topics/valentines-day/history-of-valentines-day

 

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Something Damaged and Something Possible

I am damaged because I damage myself.

I adopted misery born in my infancy, grabbed it from around me, and imbued it.

I am damaged because I damage myself.

Passive aggressive or active, it makes no difference. End result is the same.

Damage done.

 

Who isn’t damaged?

What don’t we damage?

 

But this is boring.

If everything and everyone is damaged why go on about it?

I have a fake skull with a hole blasted in the back of it on a pile of books sitting on my desk – bought it that way. Bought it damaged. We don’t mind damaged because we all are. We all want acceptance and knowing, love and meaning, yet we shun the damage we don’t personally understand.

I’m talking in circles but it makes sense to me.

 

Butterflies – the symbol of change, success over pain and struggle, of breaking free from bonds and flying into potential.

They sometimes eat blood.

They sometimes eat tears.

 

What about the possible?

What is possible?

 

Everything.

Isn’t that exhilarating?

Isn’t that terrifying?

 

 

This is post #5 and #6 in Rara’s #Somethingist challenge. For my original post (which explains things), click here. And then join the challenge!

 

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Occasionally, From Time to Time, Persistently Often

Sometimes unneeded pain is the only way I learn to pay attention to myself.

Sometimes a fictional character is the only one that can convince me I’m worth loving.

Sometimes the stories in my head are the only way I can remember to hear what I’m saying and to watch for what I’m feeling.

Stories are a balm to my soul.

Reading is an escape, a way to breathe, a moment to stare into infinity and the most finite pebble all at once.

Sometimes a little excess is the only way I realize I respect myself too much to keep soaking in the opposite extreme.

It’s okay to enjoy. To spend a little extra on myself, whether that be time, money, patience, love, or whatever I may be denying myself.

Sometimes something new is the only way I can realize how much I love what I already have.

Sometimes success is the only thing that allows me to look at the failures no one else sees of me. The ones that hide inside me, hidden away from all other eyes.

Sometimes telling myself ‘no’ is the only way I find that the truth inside me is actually, ‘yes’.

Sometimes being redundant is the only way I learn.

 

 

“Vitality shows in not only the ability to persist but the ability to start over.”

-F. Scott Fitzgerald

 

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Something Invisible

What is invisible?

 

You can’t touch love or misery.

But.

You can see your lover’s eyes light up when you come home. You can see the suffering in a child’s eyes when they huddle in the shadows in the streets.

So, yes, you can see love and misery.

 

So again, what’s invisible?

Hope?

You can see that too.

 

Truth?

Can you see truth?

You can see when someone’s lying…

So doesn’t it follow that you can see when someone is telling the truth?

I think so, yes.

 

What about ghosts?

If we’re going with the ghost theory, then for that theory to exist, that means we believe ghosts are real. Then that means we believe the spirit of a person exists, which, if you were another dead person (spirit) you could see other dead people.

Nope. Not invisible.

 

What is there that science cannot quantify, cannot see on a screen once it’s MRIed it, CAT scanned it, or otherwise broken down and visible under a microscope?

What is there that we cannot, as people, see?

Yes, you can see emotion.

Yes, you can see ideals.

I mean, technically, at least. At the end of it all, you can see these things.

We can’t see gravity but we can see it work. We know it is gravity. It’s visible.

What is left?

What is invisible?

 

Time.

I thought I had it with this one.

Okay, so actually this one wasn’t my idea. But regardless.

This doesn’t work either.

We can see time passing.

We see the effects of time.

 

Nothing is invisible.

Not even our secrets.

 

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This is post #4 in Rara’s #Somethingist challenge. For my original post (which explains things), click here. And then join the challenge!

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Something Unlikely

In the recesses of my soul, I fear it’s unlikely for me to find love.

A whole, healthy love.

An accepting, understanding love.

Someone who not only understands me, knows me, but wants me to be in their lives, every day. Someone who finds me important.

Bereft of abuse of any sort.

This is horribly vulnerable and I hate it. But it’s true.

 

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And I think it is sad.

Sad that I am so jaded, so hopeless when it comes to some things.

I think it is sad that I am so filled with such emptiness that I don’t know where to look inside myself to find myself.

I feel I need to peal open the skin on my rib cage, crack open my ribs, and peer inside, hoping there will be a beating heart, to begin with. But beyond that, hoping I’ll find a small, scared, soul hiding somewhere behind an organ or too. Waiting to be found.

Waiting to be accepted.

 

Isn’t that just so human?

It’s not something I obsess about.

It’s not something I even think about too often.

I’m certainly not one of those gals who searches for a man like her life depends on it. I never thought about my wedding. Never fantasized about walking down the aisle, all doe eyed, and plastered in white.

For one, I don’t want to wear white on my wedding day, whenever or if that happens.

And for two, I’ve always been too busy fantasizing about monsters, creatures that could jar me into danger and maddening enjoyment of life.

I’ve never been the kind of gal who had to have twenty friends, surrounded by people all the time, making her feel wanted and loved. I’m not particularly needy. In fact, I need my space.

 

So it isn’t a crazy unhealthy thing.

It simply is. In the back of my mind. Floating along with all those other thoughts or beliefs, I guess, that don’t bother me too often. Or affect me all that often either.

There are simply some things I’m not going to poke at until I’ve worked out where I am right now.

 

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What I’m talking about is the human desire to be loved on a level that only happens when one falls in love.

A knowing and an accepting.

 

I think it’s what we are; human.

We want that other human who we can be 100% human around and still be loved.

 

Did I mention this is terribly vulnerable?

Terribly.

I don’t know how Rara does it!

 

 

This is post #2 in Rara’s #Somethingist challenge. For my original post (which explains things), click  here. And then join the challenge! ;D

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Thanksgiving

The term “thanksgiving” is defined in most dictionaries as ‘an expression of gratitude’.

Around this time of the year, I get really humbled. There’s this feeling that permeates my day-to-day as I take to heart the meaning of Thanksgiving, in a basic way. As an expression of gratitude.

Because I have a lot to be grateful for.

I have a lot of love, support, and kindness in my life now.

I’m so grateful for change.

The changes in my life that have brought me to the place I am in life. The changes I’ve decided to make on my own. The fact that I, as a human being, do not exist in a fixed or forced state and I can change.

My family. My friends. My job. And family includes my dog.

I think I take a lot of things for granted. Things the homeless people I see every week are suffering from lack of. A place to live. My own bed. Food. Heart and air conditioning. Running water. Electricity. And I have more than that. I have conveniences. A phone. Internet. Music. Cable. Books.

I am overwhelmingly grateful for the few true and unbelievably real friends I have who know what I’m going through and offer me understanding, honestly, love, patience, an ear to bend, and a shoulder to lean on (even through the internet).

My family is such a blessing. I have learned so much from them. I can never number the greatness of experience and support I have gained because of them.

Not to mention that my family and friends have always supported me through my writing endeavors. Even the past year as I haven’t written a single creative word. And I probably went a bit mad because of it.

I have learned so much.

I turned twenty-four recently and though I am a late bloomer in life and wish that I’d been published by now, gained a job sooner, and gathered my health enough to function sooner – I am finding that I’m actually glad what has happened has followed the path and timeline it has.

I cannot thank the kind people in my life enough. It’s a new experience for me, kindness.

I am so ever grateful for love. The impact it can have, if I allow it.

For the opportunities to grow and open my eyes.

For stories. For all the authors who helped me escape into another world.

The spark inside me (or, as Robin Williams put it, the spark of madness) that has always  held me firm in the knowledge that I am a writer.

Also, the pain I’ve experienced. I’m not masochistic by any means, but suffering what I have allows the joy in my life now to really mean something beyond the capture of words.

Art in all its various forms. Beauty. Inspiration. Blogging. Chocolate (come on, you saw that one coming). Donuts! Hugs. Real emotion. Books, movies, music, and tv shows that create emotional resonance within me, spark something, ignite something raw. Quotes. Time. Life. Second chances. Earphones. Sweaters. Boots. Pillows. Notebooks.

Men who see women as equal human beings and not sex toys. Women who don’t consider ‘being a man’ to mean jerk behavior, size, lack of emotions, arrogance, coldness, being controlling, or the kind of car he has. I’m glad for equal rights for women.

Those who love their pets and fight for animal rights and against animal abuse.

Did I mention donuts? Thank you donuts, for being so cheap.

I am grateful for the chance to live in this crazy world and create a life of my own, one with meaning. There is so much in my life that I am grateful for. It is so much clearer, easier to see now that I feel I’m beginning to see through my own eyes and feel via my own heart.

I am thankful for hope.

 

What are you thankful for?

 

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