These people with their pulpits and concordances. They thump a fist at climactic moments of their messages and rev their engines to blow the sin from your essences. The steer their pulpit presentations with great skill and manipulate the strings to draw out just the right emotive responses from the clueless pewstresses leaning forwards evermore. These pulpit surfers brandish their grand authority and wield their silly powers. These same people come from a lineage of judgment and violence, torturing and burning victims who fail to agree on inane points and unprovable tenets. These pulpit props hold their theology together in a tight bundle and exert their emotions in loose tangents, with spittle and sweat - on their brow and in their rubbing crevices.
What a great idea! The 100 Happy Days challenge, so every day I post a photo onto social media, I use Instagram, which depicts a moment of my day when I was happy. Something that made me smile, or laugh or both. Something that made me think "yes, this life is good and I am so lucky". I do not find this difficult and it gives me a moment of clarity each day when I can be grateful for all that I have and all that I am. So yesterday's was my favourite coffee mug which reads "Choose Happy". I love it and it does remind me that you have a choice, be happy, or not be happy. Of course some things make you sad but as a whole you can choose your own happiness and I implore you to do so as often as possible. This doesn't always come wrapped up in an easy decision, some choices are hard and life changing but also sometimes necessary. And if that choice, however difficult, brings you happiness then it is worth every ounce of heartache it takes along the way. So in the end, take the plunge, make the choice and Choose Happy! x
The snow flakes fell like pom-poms. The people in the streets were cheering. The snowflakes covered the sidewalks like perpetual redemption, smoting every stain with specks of pure whiteness. The sinners in the streets were cheering. But you know those snowflakes. The snowflakes kept their distance from each other, as if they were surrounded by little rebellion bubbles, encapsulating every idiosyncratic ice sculpture that fluttered to the earth’s floor. And when they landed softly on the ground, the rebellion bubbles dissipated back into the heavens, or sank deeply into the earth. And where the snowflakes landed, that ‘s where they landed. The snowflake that landed on Lincoln street will never find itself on Clinton avenue. It is here now and that is the way it will have to be.
So I love reading, so much. Everyone knows I love reading, it's my thing. Well books are my thing actually. I love the smell, the feel and the look of them. I could spend hours in a book shop or library. I qyite literally want to inhale the contents of the book and move on to the next one. I want to read everything. I even get impatient whilst reading a book sometimes because I have so much more to read and seemingly so little time! Reading make me feel happy, it takes me away from life for a while and teaches me things I wuld never have learnt had I not engrossed myself in that book. There is a lot to be said for that. My 5 year old son is learning to read, he loves it too, he reads every day and enjoys it as much as I do. He too enjoys a bookshop, we have a second hand shop in our town and he always wants at least 2 books. I have read to him since he was born, I thought he didn't know at such a young age but I now believe he did. Read to your children, all the time, every day, even if it's the back of a crisp packet, read to them, they will learn so much from it and it will never be wasted.
That's the trouble with falling in love with a musician. Not the late nights, or the people that want to be with you, none of the things that you worried would bother me. It's the the fact that I can't listen to anything without thinking of you. Without wondering whether at some point you've sat and listened to this song too. Without thinking about the nights I've spent watching you sing your feelings to a room of strangers and then gone home together just to sit on the couch and listen to the songs that helped make us who we are. Wondering how one could be so private and the other could not. Standing in a dark room, watching you nervously throw all of your feelings out there for the world to feel with you. Wondering if any of it was meant just for me.