 There’s medicine I take in powder form every morning. I usually mix it with a cup of tea to swallow the rest of my medicine with. But the powder is often difficult to stir up and gets cakey. I remember a friend of mine who used to make these motivational videos on IG, and she would mix up this “magic powder” she drank with a battery-powered stirrer. So I thought about getting myself one, because of the difficulty getting this powder mixed.
But this morning, while I was stirring and stirring this mess with my gunked-up straw, I thought: Why waste the money on yet another gadget that only serves one silly purpose? When the straw does just fine, it just takes a little effort. I don’t know, it’s just one of the things I allow the practical side of my brain to talk to the whimsical side of my brain about every day. Not only does it save me a few dollars, but in the long run, it can save the environment or maybe a landfill or two. Convenience seems to be the name of the game when it comes to consumption. And yes, I’m just as guilty as everyone else when it comes to being wasteful in the name of convenience. (AKA my candles in jars) But I was blessed to be born to parents and grandparents that grew up and raised families before there was a Mc-e-dee’s on every corner and most mothers worked at home. (Yes, I’m that old) So I remember a trick or two from the “good-old-days” in the 20th century. Like drinking less soda and brewing tea, and drinking coffee I make at home. Eating breakfast, lunch, and dinner I fix at home, with non-processed ingredients. Now, I’m not saying you've got to go back to sewing your own clothes or living without AC. Just make small, mindful steps to turn the consumerism down a notch. I mean, we all complain about feeding the beast; well, how about putting the beast on a diet for a change and working as a family again? #WaitingOnTheWorldToChange #Consumerism #Greed #Practical #Zen
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 Sandra Saxon Burnsed After posting a poem on the cold seduction of easy money, I find myself bombarded with the aftereffects of positive affirmations across the screen. While I personally got nothing against affirmations, in my own life they just ain’t done much good, except to make me feel even worse if the goal wasn’t met. I remember going into so many sales or motivational meetings hyped up on sugar and caffeine that by the end of the meeting, I felt indestructible. But as soon as the sugar wore off and I’ve gone through my fiftieth rejection, I was more than ready to call it a day—or maybe a life. But in the years I’ve spent since sitting on the mountain and licking my wounds, I’ve learned the philosophy of letting go; more and more I’m understanding the idea of no possessions and no self. That nothing really belongs to you, and selfishness is nothing more than a chain weighed around your neck. Since working to embrace this philosophy, I’ve been freed of the guilt of failure and success—that life is a stream of time centered in the very moment that we live. I know to many, this may sound like a big pile of Mumbo Jumbo, Kumbaya. With no gods to follow, only the compassion and empathy of nature itself. Many will say it is a sin, but what better way to purge yourself of the guilt, than to forgive yourself and others. If life is about purpose, then live your life in the service of others. If you want meaning, then help your brothers or your sisters find peace, whether through service, good advice, or just a kind word. For far too long my cynical mind lashed out at the helpless and the lost, just because that was the way I was treated. For abuse, no matter how subtle, is abuse. Give each other a kind word, focus on the inner victories more than the outward ones, and every once in a while, take a moment to breathe. #Motivation #PeaceOfMind #SelfCompassion #OneDayAtATime #Zen  It’s a little later than normal for me to start writing today. But I spent the morning catching up on correspondence and editing a little poetry. Other than that, I made myself a tuna salad and some air-fried fries for lunch. My son and my wife are bickering as usual about something I don’t wish to get in the middle of. So I sit here with my double-wicked candle that my spouse can’t stand. Other than a bit of inspiration, it’s doing its trick of keeping my Dear Bride from bothering me.
I apologize for the lack of flowery words, but I come from a business background where the economy of words isn’t taught, it’s preached. In today’s dopamine-driven world, that may be the wrong way to go. But I am a stubborn old goat too set in his ways to care. One would hope that is the way most true writers are—we don’t press upon the things our readers expect to hear. Instead, we impress upon you the things you need to hear. Our stories, either good or bad, are an exchange of ideas to hopefully entertain, but also enlighten you. I’m not much of a fictional writer; I don’t have the discipline or the patience to carve stories out of nothing. Instead, I write from pure intuition, never really knowing what’s going to end up on the page. Sometimes it’s a work like this one, a 300-or-so-word essay. Sometimes a poem that doesn’t rhyme or has an awkward rhythm. Either way, as my digital editor likes to tell me, that’s what makes it purely my own. I guess my point is, if you've got something to say, then say it. Don’t worry about the misspellings or the poor grammar—that’s what rewriting, editing, and time are for. You may have noticed I ended two sentences with the preposition “for”. Now my English teachers would be pulling out their old red pens in the blink of an eye. But I do it to say this, write what you feel, tell your story, the rest will work itself out. #TheProcess #Intuitive #PleaseYourselfFirst #TellYourStory #Try  Chewing up my last two vitamin gummies, the skies outside are grey and dull. Rightfully resembling the day we honor, Memorial Day. I never lost any family or friends to war, although we had neighbors who did. My family was spared the sting of loss, despite the large number of family members who served. So, I thought I’d give some reverence to those who made the ultimate sacrifice for the country.
I spent the night dreaming about my Dad and some of the classmates and neighbors I knew in my youth. In the dream, it seemed I was in the present tense, not dreaming that I was young again. I dreamt of friends and bullies, and about the feelings of being “picked on”. I was even leaving a note to one of my bullies' dads, who was a neighbor and a friend to my own father. It was just another in the collection of strange dreams I’ve found myself having of late —receiving ghosts from the past I haven’t heard from in a while. But such as it is with my life, where the spiritual side of things is treated as fact. And where looking at life from beyond the physical realm is given as much value as silver or gold. I feel that for a vast majority of people, the world isn’t looked at that way. To them, the world is only seen in the value of dollars and cents, and what we can get out of it. And while nature is our provider and comfort, some things you simply can’t place a price tag on. Such as the value of peace of mind, or the laughter of a child, or even the wind rustling the leaves, or the rolling of the tide. None of these things carries any great cost in itself —at least not until you try to value it through selfish means. But life, what is its value, when we casually wage meaningless wars, just to satisfy the lust of old, power-hungry men? #Refection #MemorialDay #Selfishness #Greed #Hate  Image By: FD Thornton Over the weekend and earlier this week, I went on a poetry writing spree (as some of you may have noticed in my postings). Even now I have some six or seven more poems ready to be published under my #PaintedPoetry banner. None of these I would call “masterpieces” or even works following my current mood. They are just pieces where, like a character actor, I play a part in a story. But that’s not to say I didn’t live each and every one of these poems or their stories, just not at the moment. I like to fancy myself a storyteller, or maybe a conversationalist would be the best way to put it. Because almost each and every tale I weave flows through me without any real starting point. Usually by the second paragraph I kinda get my bearings, and like any good storyteller I’ve made my point by the last paragraph. So while I tumble about looking for some meaning, I hope I at least entertain you with my rambling style. But in this made-up, get-to-the-point, instant-answer world in which we live, old dinosaurs like me are a dime-a-dozen living in the margins of folk literature. But that’s okay, for while I live in a world that’s all about the fame and the almighty dollar, I see money and fortune as nothing more than tools to achieve an end. I’m sure all the platforms I subscribe to are still trying to figure me out in their algorithm, which would explain my three or four likes per post. But that’s okay, I quit being in it for the money a long time ago. I’m not saying there ain’t no money to be made. But like most things, cream only rises to the top of any given game. So I don’t think of myself as a gamer, hell I’m hardly any good at solitaire. But don’t let my words discourage you, just know copy and paste won’t get you anywhere in a world that craves originality. #Originality #YourStory #Inspiration #Practice #Joy  The sun has barely climbed over the roof of the apartment building, but it is still glaring brightly onto the green siding of the other building next door.
I haven’t seen the cat this morning, but I did get our grocery delivery order done for the week. Last night, being the often impulsive fellow that I am, I decided to book me and my wife a motel room on the coast. That way she could do some sea shelling along the beach. Mind you, this is not our normal time of the year to do this kinda thing. But for one reason or another, we have been putting off and putting off the trip all winter. So I decided there’s no time like the present, and I booked the trip. But of course, the ever-present anxiety in my life decided to chime in, doing anything in its power to get me to cancel. But unlike the past where I would just give in, I weighed the pros and cons of my impulsive decision. And while the cons were valid to an extent, the pros of seeing her smiling face won out Anxiety is a bitch (excuse my French). But when you have been hammered with verbal neglect, you often wonder if a physical beating would have been easier. I mean, bones and bruises can heal, but the everlasting scars of disrespect and insults create scars on the brain time cannot heal. Not to insult those who have suffered physical abuse, because it is mental as well. But I hope you know what I mean. Life often places a handful of tacks spread out over the floor, forcing you to look down to avoid them, leaving you afraid to look out over the horizon. But to breathe—that’s the key. To pay attention is not the sin, but to look at every situation clearly and without fear is the key. So while this trip is mostly for my wife, it’s for me as well. I need to be outside and feel the breeze and taste the salty air. Life is short, especially if your wick is as brittle as mine. So take advantage of the opportunities you’re given and do a little something for yourself. #Mindfulness #Breathe #WalkingMeditation #Awareness #Zen  Folks, I am a pathetic sight. I just got back from letting the grand puppies out for the morning. So I decided to give them a treat of the hash browns I usually don’t eat from Mc D’s. After feeding them, changing the water, giving them their treat, I headed home. On the way, my digestive tract basically gave way, and needless to say, I ended up taking a shower. But don’t worry; this is old hat to me. So I slipped on one of those things Deion Sanders has made cool, laying here with my heating pad and an ice pack.
I apologize if that first paragraph ruined the vision you had of your later years. But facts are facts, and I’ve wasted way too much time putting lipstick on this pig. So, through no fault but my own, I’m paying for the sins I once followed, and often still do. But life ain’t about focusing on regret; it's about redemption and doing better. So if you still live your life not giving a shit about how you treat yourself, more power to you. It’s not till you come to the light that things will ever change. For those of you that have had shit thrown at you by no fault of your own, bitterness works the same way. Staying mad at the world is no way to live. But getting up every day and putting on your Deion paper panties is. Holding your head up high, even while laying on a heating pad and your forehead covered with an ice pack. Plotting your next move. #Survival #MakeYourNextMove #GetUp #Empathy #YouGotThis  It’s five in the morning and I’ve been up since 3:30 doom scrolling. I was wakened with a shout and haven’t been able to go back to sleep since. Sometimes the smallest seed can be planted, and it can ruin a whole day, week, or month. Yesterday I went for a doctor’s appointment to meet with my new urologist. As my vitals were taken and medications written down, the nurse noticed my blood pressure was low and casually mentioned it. That was all it took to turn this usual introduction to a new doctor into a full-blown health and panic attack, which I’m more then certain is what is happening to me now.
I have nearly 30 years of diagnosed Panic Disorder, Generalized Anxiety Disorder, Chronic Depression, OCD, and Agoraphobia so far. I’ve treated these mental issues with a combination of cognitive and drug therapy. And for the most part it has worked to integrate me back into “normal society” with varying degrees of success. Much like with any physical diagnosis there’s a bit of trial and error, and believe me when I say, there was a lot of trial and error. But I’ve made it through so far and while I am not perfect, I hold my own with the use of mindfulness and awareness. But still in a tiny little corner of my head there are those still small voices. That chip away at your sobriety or your sanity as in my case. Even now as I write, I fight with the demons in my head that remind me I am too weak, too out of control to take up this fight. Even with my vitals running in the normal ranges this morning before my meds. Those old ghost of the past are plowing and spreading their seeds of fear. So it’s up to me to breathe through it to remind myself if somethings going to happen, it will happen. And that that is alright. So if you find yourself in a similar situation and you feel the walls closing in. Know that there are others that have been there with you and that understand. It’s just a matter of having enough faith in yourself to make it through. #MentalHealth #RunningLean #Focus #YouGotThis #Faith  iStock Well it’s a rainy morning for a change down here in Southcentral Georgia, and all the medicine has been took. Along with my bride’s medicine being stocked up and organized for the week in the pill boxes. So medicine-wise she is stocked up for the week, and now it’s just a matter of reminding her to take all her pills in the assigned caddie. I know it sounds like I’m harping on the fact she forgets things like this. But as her caregiver it’s my fulltime job to make sure her and our son are groomed, fed, and in her case medicated like they should. Of all the shit I could talk about, it’s funny that I bring this up again. But today I do have a phone interview with the Social Security Administration about our son. No details were given, no email or letter was sent, just a vague text message from SSA that I couldn’t call back. Anyway, that’s par for the course with the government so imagine having to deal with all this while working a fulltime job. Sadly an increasing number of us have to with an aging population and all their Gen X kids left holding the bag. But remember less Government and no immigrants to help! So all I can say is, Welcome to my world! You Motherchuckers! You thought it was inconvenient taking Mom to doctor before, now you got to make sure she takes her pills and pays her bills. All while she cops an attitude every late afternoon. Oh I know, I hear the war stories. I sit in the waiting rooms trying to keep up with everyone’s ailments, including my own. But hey, this has been my world going on 40 years. Listen I ain’t trying to apply for sainthood or even a half-ass pat-on-the-back. I’m just stating facts, cold hard facts no political ad is willing to cover. What does the Bible say, “Take care of the widows and orphans”? (James 1:27) Well it’s time to “Man-Up”. I’m off my soapbox, now. #Soapbox #ThinkingOutLoud #Caregiving #KeepingItReal  Grandmother / Granddaughter - December 15, 2019 Between my wife’s endless hacking and my trembling hands dropping everything, we make a hell of a pair this morning. But as the morning progresses, the coughing has slowed and my hands feel a little more steady. A dear friend sent me a note asking how I was doing this morning. I told her in my usual jestful way I was about as unsteady as usual but doing well. It seems as I age the old reflexes aren’t as steady as they used to be. I watched two episodes of two of my guilty pleasures last night, both dealing with entirely different but similar subjects about the human condition. One is an ensemble cast of doctors and nurses dealing with the endless crises faced in an ER. The other, the continuing raw adventures of a group of former high schoolers dealing with fantasy-like situations. Both may be over the top, but both offer a glimpse into the power and the desperation of the human mind. It’s funny how our minds are never satisfied with the mundane glimpses of everyday life in our entertainment. Like, say, my obsession with soap operas and their over-the-top and drawn-out reactions to seemingly normal problems. But we are. Along with the explosions and endless gunfire, maybe they tell us a little about ourselves. About what it is we are willing to face in our own boring little lives. The morning tremors in our hands causing us to drop our lancet on the floor. Or the unending fear of how to pay the light bill. Seeds are watered and a bitter harvest grows, and all we are left with are questions of “what if?”. But much like the actors acting their parts, we should focus on the now. And making it through the next breath, instead of obsessing about the next five-year plan. Life is usually a series of mundane events that hopefully carry us to our destination. Or at least a soft place to land when the tremors end. #Reflection #Aging #LifeChoices #HereAndNow #Survival |
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May 2026
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