Guest Blogs and Featured Spotlights, Song Lyric Sunday, Spotlight Sunday, The Insightful Wanderer

Sweet Release, #SongLyricSunday

“If you cannot stand beside me – there isn’t love, there is only pride.”

—Lara Fabian

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This one line from the song always truck me as the realization at the end of love in a relationship.

She is a French-Canadian singer whom I first heard twenty years ago now. Wow, I’m old, but here she is:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WtlW8CFHjQE

At a certain moment, you realize, letting go is not giving up, but before that can happen, you have to learn the difference between the two.

They are sneaky buggers and they like to be confused for one another, but if someone isn’t willing to stay, letting go is the best way to find peace and happiness again.

***

Silence and quiet again my life
Far from these moments I wish I was
Passion and truth we were about
Before the shadows stole the beat of our hearts

After all we have been through
I can only look at you
Through the eyes you lied to
I’m givin’ up, givin’ up, I’m givin’ up on you

After all if there is no way out
If you cannot stand beside me
If there isn’t love there is only pride
I’m givin’ up, I’m givin’ up this fight

Undo this leash you say I tied
When only our fears are to blame this time
And what am I to you? Just spit it out
I’m not afraid of the words that you hide

After all we have been through
I can only look at you
Through the eyes you lied to
I’m givin’ up, givin’ up, I’m givin’ up on you

After all if there is no way out
If you cannot stand beside me
If there isn’t love there is only pride
I’m givin’ up, I’m givin’ up this fight

Where do we go? Where did it all crash?
When did it start to fall apart?

Silence and quiet, passion and truth
Shadows, only shadows

After all if there is no way out
If you cannot stand beside me
If there isn’t love there is only pride
I’m givin’ up, I’m givin’ up

After all we have been through
I can only look at you
With the eyes you lied to
I’m givin’ up, givin’ up, I’m givin’ up on you

After all if there is no way out
If you cannot stand beside me
If there isn’t love there is only pride
I’m givin’ up, I’m givin’ up this time
Givin’ up, givin’ up this fight
Givin’ up, givin’ up
I’m givin’ up, givin’ up, I’m givin’ up this fight
I’m givin’ up, I’m givin’ up tonight

LYRICS

***

“And what am I to you? Just spit it out. I’m not afraid of the words that you hide.”

I love this line too, as she shows her frustration, through her singing. Though many really do want something long unsaid to just finally be “spit out” by the other person, the fear of those words really is the thing that is standing in the way of full disclosure and the ability to clear the air.

As a sequel of sorts,
this one
was her follow-up song, though not as popular in my past. Still, it shows that there is more to come.

On this
Song Lyric Sunday,
I wanted to share a selection from Canada, where we are proud to have music from both English and French performers, as a representation of our bilingual land of culture and art in a shared cultural space.

Check out some of her French-speaking stuff, if you have a chance. I would have chosen it, if I’d tried harder to learn French back in school, but I gave it up, something more of English-speaking Canada is probably guilty of.

It’s never too late I suppose.

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TToT: Lions, Lams, Showers, and Flowers – Fools Not Withstanding, #HappyEaster #AprilFoolsDay #10Thankful

“When women speak truly they speak subversively—they can’t help it: if you’re underneath, if you’re kept down, you break out, you subvert. We are volcanoes. When we women offer our experience as our truth, as human truth, all the maps change. There are new mountains. That’s what I want—to hear you erupting.”

—Ursula K. Le Guin

Snowdrops are back and in bloom. That’s how I know spring has arrived, even if it hasn’t made up its mind yet if we’ll get rain or snow.

Ten Things of Thankful

I’m thankful for the hope and promise of women.

While madmen running places like Russia, North Korea, and the US seem to be ramping up their egotistical boasting about how tough their nuclear arsenals are, I think of all whom March’s Women’s History Month represents.

I’m not saying we’d be at peace, completely if women were the ones mostly in charge, but I have to believe it would be more progressive, sensible, and acceptable than where we’re heading right now.

I’m thankful for another podcast and the brilliant production from my brother.

Episode 10 – Ketchup On The Current (March 2018)

If you enjoy checking out a new podcast. If you are doing things around home and needing something to have playing in the background. Give us a listen.

It is a professional sounding piece of audio and I’m sure you’ll agree. We are self deprecating and sometimes silly, but we are real.

I’m thankful for an online radio appearance with Accessible Media Inc.

I was contacted by this
across Canada broadcaster
of content for the blind.

It was their weekday afternoon talk show/news magazine called Kelly and Company and this was
My Tuesday, April 27th episode.

I am probably coming off desperate sounding, but this survey I’m conducting for data on audio descriptive services in movie theatres for the blind goes on through spring and summer still. I need to keep the reminders coming or people might forget what I’m attempting to accomplish.

I’m thankful for a delivery of literary perfume.

Anne Shirley/Avonlee Fragrance

It really is amazing to me still, that I can order something (all online) and have it show up at my door a few days later.

I’m thankful I adore the cherry blossom scent now that it has arrived.

I had no magazine insert I could scratch and sniff, to make sure I liked the scent. I had to trust the product wouldn’t be crap and that I’d like it. Now I wish I could send a sample of what it smells like through the WWW wires to anyone who might be reading this and curious.

I am a lover of perfumes and fragrances, but I can also be picky and sensitive. I am just glad I haven’t concluded that scents cause the headaches I have because my sense of smell is so important to me.

Perfume is a big part of that. I may not be able to know what I look like, but I can do my best to present myself by the kinds of scents I am most drawn to.

And so now I can feel like I am walking in the cherry orchards of a Lucy Maud Montgomery story.

I’m thankful for a recommendation to grow as a writer of many things.

I am not trained in journalism and I don’t know if that its where I’m meant to end up, but I do know that if I want to educate readers on some of the causes I am most passionate about, such things are often taken more serious when written in a more journalistic manner.

I was shown a program where I could find some guidance to become more efficient in this kind of writing and so I will give it my best shot.

I’m thankful for some yoga on a rainy, painful Thursday.

I don’t dislike rain in spring. I only know the rain and the pain, not only rhyme, but they seem to fit and the yoga was a nice way to break up my thoughts on that day.

I’m thankful for hopefully a happy ending in the news.

‘You were our heroes’: A survivor of the Balkin wars helps ex-peacekeepers move past their pain | CBC

It’s a story of PTSD, trauma lasting years and years, and hope for a future of less suffering in silence.

I’m thankful for another year celebrating a special birthday.

He can be witty and he can be wise, when I most need a laugh or a little wisdom. He loves the nostalgia and the authentic sound of vinyl and, at the same time, is totally open and eager to discover the newest releases in the music world.

He is loved by his friends and family alike.

He is helping me bring my dream of writing, into audio storytelling, all to life.

He shares his day of birth with Celine Dion and Vincent Van Gogh.

He is my brother.

I am thankful to know that all the children I love are waking to the excitement of hunting for Easter eggs on this first day of this new month.

“Spring is singing in my blood today, and the lure of April is abroad on the air. I’m seeing visions and dreaming dreams, …. That’s because the wind is from the west. I do love the west wind. It sings of hope and gladness,”

ANNE OF THE ISLAND

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TToT: Mother Nature and Cloud Iridescence, #10Thankful

It was a diamond winter day in February — clear, cold, hard, brilliant. The sharp blue sky shone, the white fields and hills glittered, the fringe of icicles around the eaves…sparkled. Keen was the frost and crisp the snow over our world; and we young fry…were all agog to enjoy life. 

—THE STORY GIRL
🎨 Peder Mørk Mønsted

New month, new slate. Here we go.

Ten Things of Thankful

I’m thankful for a nice dinner out with my sister and my brothers.

We went, to celebrate February’s arrival, my upcoming birthday, and my brother-in-law’s birthday in a few weeks.

A few drinks and a free celebration dessert made it a lovely evening. I could relax, finally, for a few hours at least.

I’m thankful when my niece hands me a banana.

It was a plastic toy, but still. The gesture shows she is growing up, soon to be taking her first steps.

I’m thankful when my friend the travel agent helps me figure out some pricing for a trip to BC.

It is for the Canadian Federation of the Blind’s annual spring convention.

At least three of us are going. We will make sure to get in some travel/tourism stuff in there as well.

I am determined to stand by the ocean.

Also, to meet people in person, who I’ve spoken to by phone for months, it will be nice to make their acquaintances, and I hope to speak in front of the entire convention on my project to put descriptive audio services in movie theatres.

I’m thankful for a visit with my neighbour and my brother.

My brother got a ride back here, planning to jam with his band friends in my basement that night. So, I’d previously made a plan to visit with my neighbour in the afternoon and so the three of us had a nice talk.

I’m thankful my neighbour cared to give me some tea to help me sleep with my cold.

She said she could give me apple cider vinegar to gurgle, which she swears takes care of a sore throat for her within hours/a day or two. She said it may taste bad, but it works. Luckily, for me, my throat issues were behind me. Sure, I barely had a voice, but the soreness was gone. It was a stuffy head and I don’t sleep well at the best of times.

She is taking care of me, however she can.

I’m thankful my cold cleared up like it did, when it did, and I hope it stays away for a few weeks at least.

I have an appointment next week to get a new artificial eye made. It requires an entire day of fitting and resizing and taking my current artificial eye in and out, in and out. Not my favourite thing.

With a cold, tearing up constantly, it wouldn’t make the experience any easier.

I’m thankful for my sister’s help with time card/invoice spread sheets/graphs.

To request payment for the contract work I am doing, writing an introduction for a paper on braille, I must fill out a chart thing.

My computer’s voiceover program does read graphs, but I tend to try too hard to visualize them and have to work with what I hear.

I am practicing with my braille display to get a better idea, but just hearing numbers and columns is confusing.

My sister deals with these things, all the time, for her tax business work. She helps me get paid and I am grateful.

I’m thankful my niece is still small enough to fall asleep on my shoulder.

My sister was at the store and my niece had worn herself out, crawling round and around my house, going for mops, crawling behind the couch, and getting into trouble of all kinds.

Eventually though, she started to whimper, for her mother I’d imagined. I picked her up and paced with her in my arms, listening to music and singing gently. Soon she was asleep on my shoulder.

I tried to sit down gently in the chair, trying hard not to wake her, and the position I ended up in was not so good for my neck.

I tried to shift, but she was in a position in my lap and I didn’t want to disturb her. It was totally worth it.

I used to do this with my niece and nephews in the past few years. This may be my last chance, for a long while, to hold a sleeping baby. That saddened me and I held her all the closer for it.

I am thankful for what Britain did to fight off Hitler in World War II.

I went to see The Darkest Hour and I was moved, in many different ways. Churchill’s oratory skill was brilliant and his determination to protect England was challenged at every step, until he was honest and got feedback from the British people. He had little help from the United States at that time, May of 1940. Still, he was honest about the fact that they were on their own and there was no option but to fight to the end.

My feelings on peace vs war, it’s complicated, but I try to understand how things were/are, when making a judgment call on what should/must be done.

If Hitler had conquered the island nation of Great Britain, he could have and likely would’ve moved on to England’s child of sorts, Canada.

I’m thankful it’s February.

I am fickle with my feelings on turning thirty-four on Saturday. It depends on the day or the moment I think about it.

Still, January wasn’t the best of months. Though February also means my niece’s first birthday and her growing up, I am still looking forward to celebrate. The cake my sister has ordered from my cousin, the cake maker, sounds pretty cool.

Spectacular moment “rare rainbow cloud” appears in skies above Brazilian tourist spot – THE SUN

Hello February. You’ve arrived, Finally!

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Sigh – And The Search Continues, #JusJoJan

I say I crave it, but it’s hard to obtain it.

yAflQT6.jpg

I can’t seem to
find the silence
in all that goes on.

the buzzing inside my own head. I think too much, about too many unanswerable questions.

I can’t stand the silence sometimes, seconds ticking by. I always have something going, playing, to occupy my thoughts, though they run on and on anyway. When I go to sleep I always have music on in the background or Netflix on my phone. I listen until sleep overtakes me.

I live with sound in the daylight hours too. My computer and my phone have voice software to read my emails and text messages. I have separate sounding notification beeps to alert me to what comes through my phone. I am constantly listening for those.

I listen to the birds and the sirens and other vehicles, just outside my window. I listen for my dog to inevitably bark at something and I listen for a sign that my cat is nearby. He doesn’t meow as much as he chirps you see.

I listen for a knock at my door because my doorbell hasn’t been functional in years.

I listen because I can barely see.

I wrote about
darkness
a few days ago, for Just Jot It January.

I feel blown away that someone’s worst fear would be to lose their sight, but I know the feeling. I also know that the thought of losing my ability to hear is simply unthinkable to me.

Just Jot It January, #JusJoJan

And the search for silent moments, for peace and quiet, all while thankful I have the ability to hear the sound if I choose, it continues.

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Colours of the Season, #FTSF

I listen for the wishes my niece and nephews have made to Santa this year. They ask for superhero toys and surprises.

So far, last week, I’ve written of
feeling like a misfit
and now
Silver and Gold
after watching Rudolph on television last week.

I wish I could still see colours. Selfishly, I wish that for me, instead of all the endless wishes I wish for the world..

I don’t wish for riches, but sometimes I wish I could see what silver and gold look like again: sparkle and shine.

Of course I wish for world peace, no more manmade wars, and a return to common sense and compassion in so much of the world today, but today I really wish I could see the yellow of my yellow crayon.

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My nephew asked us all our favourite colours yesterday and mine is red. I told him it was red. I wish I could have seen the picture he drew for all of us, superhero stickers included, that he presented to his grandpa.

He’d call out from the kitchen, asking what our favourite colours were, running into the room and running back out again.

I really love all colours and I miss them all. I miss them like dear departed loved ones, when I see the enjoyment colours bring to those I love.

At this time of year, I wish I could once again see red, green, white, silver and gold.

Not trying to dwell a lot on what I can no longer see, colours are missed still most by me.

I dwell. I don’t wallow. Yellow, oh yellow.

Kristi has some
wise and thoughtful
ideas as well, to fit the season of peace on earth and wish making.

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Oddly Shaped Pearl, #BaroqueMusic #SoCS

I hear the flock of Canada geese out my open bedroom window. They fly along, a gathering in the air, and it sounds to me like they are all having delightful conversation with each other as they fly along. It’s a honking that I hear as a chattering of all the geese gossip that’s relevant in any goose’s world.

I know I shouldn’t technically have my window open in December, but I need to feel the chilly air and to hear those gossiping geese, gathering gliding along through the sky.

I need to find those things that bring me peace, or else I’d have no choice but to turn to liquor to distract myself from so many things that gouge out my gut.

Stream of Consciousness Saturday, #SoCS

Wildfires springing up, madly in California, is just the latest place where the fire burns. Those poor horses, caught up in the inferno. Global warming…does it play a part?

Middle East peace…is it forever ellusive?

Fake news is all around us, many believe. I’m starting to greatly dislike religion and what the religious do in its name. Fake news there too?

At this time of year, a time of holiday cheer, I fear…I fear so many things for this world.

Old wooden floors creak and soft carpet underfoot. I have been in a church only twice this year, in the giant one in Mexico and now on the outskirts of the university. Will I go for three, a Christmas Eve church service?

Will I find peace there again?

And then I sit and listen, in those hard church pews I’d forgotten were so hard, to strings, strings, and more strings: violins, violas, cellos, bass, and harpsichord.

I am tense and the first half feels as hard to take in, as hard as bench under me. Then, intermission over with, they begin again and I am at peace, hard bench fading away and I rise to this occasion of experiencing some most eloquent baroque period music.

I have nothing against the horns section or woodwinds. I used to play the clarinet. Strings are where my heart lies though.

I am at attention, as violins speak to violas, back and forth is the chatter, like the geese and their horn section. Like a musical debate of things going on.

Fast or slow. Intense. Dark. Light and airy. I float along or grab on for the ride. I slide along those strings that whisk me away somewhere, somewhere where liquor is not the answer to fixing that gouge in my gut.

Music is. Music is eloquence. Music is my liquor.

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The Value and the Invaluable, #FTSF

What is it that is priceless about this one, precious life?

Finish the Sentence Friday:

with Finding Ninee

and with guest sentence-thinker-upper

Mardra Sikora.

What is priceless about my violin, about Halloween 2017, and about writing?

My violin rental was my birthday present when I turned thirty-two. I chose to buy it for myself, once I learned how much I loved the challenge and wanted to keep going with it. I found a young woman who had been playing for nearly twenty years, who was a student and could use the twenty dollars a week. I admit, I get a pretty good deal there. She gets to teach me. Feel bad for her sometimes on that. I learn, but it sometimes ends up taking me a few tries, at least.

Buying a violin…hundreds of dollars. A violin lesson…$20.

The feeling of peace while I concentrate and play, the sensation of accomplished determination of practicing, and the sweet and beautiful sound of such an instrument…

PRICELESS.

Halloween this year was full of pizza and plenty of treats. The weather could have been a lot worse. It was cold, but at least there was no rain or snow. My nephew came into my house and immediately removed his socks, as he likes to do. It took plenty of gentle reminders, which turned into nagging reminders that if he wanted to go trick-or-treating, he needed to put them back on his feet.

Candy costs money. Costume making costs his mother hours of time and attention.

Hearing my five-year-old nephew counting his candy, showing up he can count all the way to one hundred (even though he may have counted some pieces of that candy more than once), and the pure innocence and recently discovered joy of the holiday in his voice…

PRICELESS.

Writing is, for me, like breathing. It’s getting to share here, to speak out on the things that matter to me, and all this is, of course, priceless.

All the courses with their enrolment fees, the expensive technological equipment I need to replace the hand/eye connection I no longer have, and the newly sought after paid work I have found and fear I will find no more of.

Writing, as breathing…

(as I’ve said)

PRICELESS.

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