Tag: Mind

Honey Wine – A short – short story

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Honey Wine – A short – short  Story

Serena knew that beauty had an ending that all things fade and die; now she was in the winter of her years. All her friends were gone, as was much of her family, some forgotten like goldenrods falling to dust upon the wind. Her eyes yearned, her heart bled for love, frustration guided her thoughts, and she kept repeating the words…

“Old, old, old.” Serena hated to eat from a plate made of paper; if she was younger, they may let her dine on fine bone china.

“Now you come with me Ms Serena, its supper time.” Lucas had a special bond Serena. He did not mind that she lived in the past or the present.

Satiation, that was where Serena was in her mind, then she thought…it is necessary that people should feel wants beyond the want created by mere hunger.

The clouds of time have spun away like the seasons; she now waited for the last leaf to drop. All that was left was the sweet memories, like the taste of her father’s Honey wine. Please she whispered let it go quickly…

“I am so tired of time”. Serena looks at the setting sun, as it melted into the lake next to where she shared a room with a stranger
©elizabethannjohnsonmurphree

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Earthly Cycles – #6

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Earthly Cycles – #6

January was cold and depressing; it’s February, and until the sweet girls birthday is here; we do not celebrate it as we use to, as young girls they make more adult like plans, for me I just sit and remember those cherub face and hands.

February is drenched with the beginnings of winter thaw; two more sweet children celebrate while shivering in the cold. March rushes in with the winds drying the earth; getting ready for springs daffodils’, another sweet birthday comes and goes, like the sweet girl I use to cuddle and hold.

In April, the birds begin to sing bringing to life the flowers of May, sunny June comes another birthday, with it comes the longest day of the year that brings the winter lovers to tears. July is yet another birthday along with the scorched days of summer’s heat. In August the earth gives its children acres of corn, September comes the fruit the trees and vines have born.

October earth removes her summer cloaks as stars shoot across a November sky; the nights become long, cold with early frost. The strong December winds begin and soon comes, January the seasons have gone through their Earthly cycle with cold and snow all over again.

 
©elizabethannjohnsonmurphree #6

 
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The Journey – Sunday – Day 13, 2019…

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I  recently spoke to an acquaintance who told of her husband living in a nursing home, he was unhappy and so was she. Being ten years his junior placed such a burden on her shoulders. What can one say about growing old? The loss of shape, hiding beneath many layers of clothing, sparkle gone from one’s eyes. One is no longer beautiful in the eyes of others, not my belief. The function of one’s body grows weaker, sitting in that doomed place with little human contact. The sunset-glow in the beginning of each day is gone. Dreams escape the demented mind, as does the ordinariness of each day.

There is certain knowledge within this fog in the mind of the aged; at times, they remember of those long ago youthful days. They may flitter across the closed mind like an open window. Nonetheless, the prison door of the mind never opens; it is walled-in unknown to most what thoughts lay buried deep within. It is the last stage of life, frozen within and quite, a phantom of themselves, a hollow ghost.

No longer, a figure of delight, no longer surrounded by the sweet smell of one’s self. Like the snow-covered winter landscape, life is stilled, a shadow of one’s self. Life from the womb begins a painful story, a stormy world like summer winds and rain. Beauty spent and done, despite Hells rage now silenced by the passing of time. With the eyes looking past what lays ahead, bondage no longer a threat as the mind realizes it will only end in death. Whom can we blame? No one!

Mindfulness provides a simple but powerful route for getting our selves unstuck, back into touch with our own wisdom and vitality. It is a way to take charge of the direction and quality of our own lives, including our relationships within the family, and to the larger world and planet, and most fundamentally, our relationships with our self as a person. Begin now, to become aware of what lies in the future our future. The key lies in the works of Emerson and Thoreau, Whitman and Native American wisdom. Read and become aware of what your future might be, the words of these great people will pave the way to your tomorrows.

Do not fall prey to the thoughts of those who would harm you. Hold on to your opinions, expectations and the many possibilities that will open to you as you age. Mindfulness is simply an art of conscious living. Be yourself, keep in touch with your deepest feelings, and let greatness flow from you. This will go a long way to keeping you young.

 

©2019.elizabethannjohnsonmurphree

The Journey – Saturday – Day 12, 2019…

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Being sick during the Holidays is no fun, my children did not seem to mind the delayed Holidays, January; in all actuality they were quiet delighted, it would be one less relative to visit making it less stressful. If you had asked me the question, “Let’s move Christmas into January”, I would have said no. Since it was I, that was sick, I was going to miss the Holidays anyway.

I had for months in 2018 trying to reinvent myself, reading the books on various  religions. I began with present day Christianity, those who “sermonize” from the Bible in most cases picked and chose the “parts” from the Bible that they want to use to put fear into followers, and it worked.

Christianity is  first ranked in the list of most popular religions around the globe with more than 2.1 billion followers , the highest ranked are the Roman Catholic, Eastern Orthodox, and Protestant. Islam is given the second rank in the list of major religions of the world having more than 1.5 billion followers; it is one of the fastest growing religions. Hinduism in one of the major religions of the world with 900 million worshipers, it is considered one of the world’s oldest religions. Buddhism is also considered a leading religion around the globe with more than 376 million followers; Gautama Siddhartha founded it 2500 years before in India. Sikhism is the world’s fifth largest religion having more than 23 million worshippers; this religion combined the beliefs from Islam and Hinduism.

What does all of this have to do with the Holidays and me being sick? What does it have to do with “missing” Christmas? What does it have to do with the reinvention of Elizabeth Ann Murphree?

It was the best way to lay a foundation for the change that I am trying to put into practice within myself. Do I believe in God, yes? Do I believe every word written in the Bible, no, why? Men and their perception of the events of their day and time wrote it. One must pull away the layers of the stories much like pealing an onion, and then you may find the written truth within the book. There are, I find some reasonable truths in all religions, I sway toward that of Christianity fed the need of my living a life of “goodness” and Buddhism, gives me additional guidelines to grow, and if we are to believe in God, then we must believe in all of the religions he has created through the man and women of this world.

I have read many books throughout 2018. I believe the practice that I need in my life at this time is “mindfulness”, if I can master that one, I will have a better understanding of life and I will see growth in myself and be aware of it in others. I try every day to be mindful of the difficulties that lay ahead of me. I try to actively be attentive, keeping the complexities of my life in mind.

Mindfulness an ancient Buddhist practice that has profound exposure in my present-day life.  In truth, it has nothing to do with Buddhism, but it does have everything to do with living in harmony with myself and with the world around me. I have examined who I am and I have educated myself with the practice and now have an appreciation for each moment that I am alive. It also helped to survive the many health issues I have had these past three years.  Do I fall away from mindfulness, of course, but the teaching of mindfulness quickly brings me back in line to what my life needs.  It prepares me for the next part of my life, as the journey grows shorter.

This practice is not an easy one. One has to be continually mindful about the present moment and not be judgmental in what is going on around you and the world in general. One must be aware of the greater reality. I believe with this concept I can continue to grow, we as world inhabitants can continue to grow if we are aware of the happenings within our own realm and that of others.  Have I mastered this concept, no, I must be constantly aware of what is truth and what is gossip within my realm.  I have more work to do, but isn’t that growth.

 

 

©2019elizabethannjohnsonmurphree

I am Woman…

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I am Woman…

So, I am Woman, the wind whips through down the ridges of my throat, graveling pain spills out of my voice, I listen to the wind, it turns toward the sea, I said again, I am Woman.

I hear no echoes from the waves, the words are swallowed up in the voice of the surf as it swells and leaps over the bleached sands. I call to it, I am Woman.

Like sea mist across the dunes, I sway and beg the wind to take me away; words fall silent upon the shore, as I went out in the night to return no more, my choice, I am Woman.

 

©elizabethannjohnsonmurphree

 
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Mother Earth…

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Acrylic Painting by Elizabeth Ann Johnson-Murphree

 

Mother Earth…

The sun falls in every nook and cranny, the birds sing a beautiful song against the morning light. The crow lands inside a blue Spruce, boughs sway underneath the tiny feet, the bobbing holds the interest of a squirrel. Walking while the imagination falls into motion, a leaf lands at my feet, I look up and the clouds come alive, breaking over and under, profound, alive, forming cats, horses, elephants and Jesus. Everything is alive here upon Mother Earth and in the Heavens, we tend, we produce and make room for those who will come. It is then that our pain will ease, our cries quell and we will be delivered into peace.

 
©elizabethannjohnsonmurphree

 
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On Writing…

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Sunday, November 11, I wrote about being mindful. My son Chuck is always using and discussing the word mindful, therefore, it is always to my forefront in my thoughts. Today, I thought I would discuss a little about writing, my writing. A favorite writer of mine Anne Lamott says,” No one cares if you continue to write, so you’d better care, because otherwise you are doomed”.

I was a closet writer, literally, my desk and computer was in a small closet I opened the door pulled out the chair, and there I was in what I thought to be my writing space. I wrote short stories. Once I had finished a story or what I thought was a finished story, I neatly filed it away in a file box on the shelf above me. Oh, I had been writing for years, since the age of five to be exact. The job of eliminating me of such a frivolous waste of time fell upon my mother. Every time she would find my big chief writing tablet and fat pencil, she threw it in the burning barrel. When we would go to see my Aunt Vina, she would send me home with a new supply, Aunt Vina encouraged my imagination. When I would stay with her during summers, I was to have a new story to read each day when she came home from work.

My love of reading through the years introduced me to all manner of authors and styles. Again, Aunt Vina encouraged my reading and writing. If it were not for her, I would not enjoy my retirement years, and then I began to dabble into the art of poetry. I spoke with my son Chuck who is a writer, explaining that I seem to have the ability to write poetry and I loved it. He expressed his belief that maybe this was the direction that I should go. Several published poetry books later I believe that all of my experiences in life found their way upon the blank page in the form of poetry had been depleted.

My next adventure was a book containing all of my artwork. When that book was completed and published, I begin the life story of my daughter Charlotte who passed away in 2010. When the grief began to spill over into my daily life where I could no longer control my emotions, I wrote. There were times when I thought that I may never write again, I thought of words but none would meld together to create any serious writing. Then, the book about Charlottes’ life was published. I still believed that my poetry and the well-house from where I gathered words might have dried up. It was then that I published a book of images of my four-legged friend Mason, finally I returned to my favorite writer Anne Lamott who said,” No one cares if you continue to write, so you’d better care, because otherwise you are doomed”.

After a few weeks of idleness, I outlined a family saga. A working title, Generations of heroes and assholes, their secrets and lies. I believe this undertaking of possibly a series of five books or one huge book will fill several years, which along with my blog and family should keep me busy. Along with that, a part of my day will be set aside for painting, reading books, researching, and enjoying the post of my favorite people, those who visit my blog.
Good Writing to All

 

©elizabethannjohnsonmurphree

 

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Mindful…

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I have tried to go back over my past, most reflected upon childhood, emotional wounds, the scars that you cannot see; yet the pain is there sometimes quiet and other times excruciating. The teenage years found me defective and with no value, not without my trying. I made excellent grades, but not allowed to join any afterschool activities, my mother thought I should be at home cooking and cleaning for the rest of the day. In the sixth grade, she did allow me to join a concert band that would continue through high school, concert and marching band. The reason, my mother was friends with the band directors’ wife… the only reason. This was my life as a teenager, I could go to all of the football games and it allowed me to attend music camps as well. This did not save me! I grew with no treasured possessions mental or physicals. Nonetheless, that was then and this is now.

Today they are so many who are broken down and frightened, yet as humans we are always searching for happiness. We mostly accept our lives young or old; we can pray that our lives have turned out as God planned, if you believe in God. I sometimes wish I were a child again before understanding grew within my brain, birth. Many of us live our entire lives for others, literally. When needed I plug myself into work?

Hate is a terrible emotion, this is the most awful thing and I try to surround myself put up a wall where hate cannot reach me. It does not work for me. The hate and malignant thoughts of others penetrate the wall, the thin skin and embeds itself deep within my soul. I cannot forget the hate that I have suffered at the hands of others. However, I cannot change them, so I pray for them. The willingness to change their behavior is ignored. As humans, we need the courage to accept them for what they are; the goal is to bring manic dramas into our lives. The fingerprints of hate has been embedded upon my psyche since childhood, I try not to respond to it, they want you to feel the pain at all cost we must try to fight it be aware, be mindful for these are struggling souls, they are precious. God is my defense.

When all this occurs, we must create a new vision for ourselves, lift our eyes and hands to the heavens and do the best we can.

 

©elizabethannjohnsonmurphree

*A collection of thoughts for a new book

AUTHOR’S NOTE: Everyone has a past and everyone has memories. I am currently working on a project of a series of five books, a biography of the lives of myself and of those that are relatives. This post and others will consist of my thoughts on many subjects. My poetry will have to sit on the back burner so to speak, as this is an undertaking that will span a year or more.


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The Parsimonious Me Returns and Other Thoughts

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(A collection of thoughts for a writing project)

The unpleasant events of an old woman living in modern day times can be fearful. Everything around the world is being destroyed by fire, smoldering lava of a volcano, buildings are imploding and exploding by the work of foreign or homegrown terrorist. Tsunami’s wipe out shorelines and far inland, earthquakes swallows everything in the path of its deadly fingers opening the earth. Global warming is real, our weather and the results of it leave broad paths of destruction to prove it.

If we compare our inward selves to the unpleasant events of the times within the family, friends and acquaintances, our deep secrets and the truth of the spirit and soul are no doubt warring. Yes, the outward looks and smiles get you through those needed moments, all the while the turmoil is griping you inward with you pushing it to the edge of doom and no return. Of course, what does this have to do with aging; I am certain all ages go through the insecure components of their sense

Yet, all the time we are aging, in those winter years it becomes scary, there is so much to do with less time to do it. Time will not stand still. The family “rock” must be strong, able to withstand anything. I have lead life as best I could. Outside the family, I had role models, my Aunt, a teacher, and when I became an adult, I had work mentors.

I live with depression, anxiety, all of my life and with thoughts of suicide, and during those married years, I thought of it more often; but I had too many responsibilities as an adult to act upon my thoughts. All of these debilitating feelings started in childhood. When I was not in school, I was at home alone to roam the woods surrounding our home. We had no phones, and my mother told me how to act, to live, what to say…be seen and not heard, she was not a woman who beat children. She was a woman that tore her children down mentally, telling me I should be grateful to be living and have a mother. Well that statement and its answer, is far too long to place in this post, it will have to be covered as a topic all its own.

 

©elizabethannjohnsonmurphree

 

*A collection of thoughts for a new book

 

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AUTHOR’S NOTE: Everyone has a past and everyone has memories. I am currently working on a project of a series of five books, a biography of the lives of myself and of those that are relatives. This post and others will consist of my thoughts on many subjects. My poetry will have to sit on the back burner so to speak, as this is an undertaking that will span a year or more.

AUTHORS BOOK AT AMAZON.COM
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The Beast has no fears, no tears…

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The Beast has no fears, no tears…
The deep voice foul and inflamed cast its disgusting face toward the gentle and the brave. Some said do not listen to the lusting rage of the golden haired Beast who wants to be called King. He scorns the Justice of God; the Beast rages on day and night, it never recoils. Many minds quickly became splintered fissures, torn by the evil of this Beast; these people, their minds seized could see no guilt in the actions of the beast, nor those who encouraged his deceit.
Greed gives power to those who listen to the Beast with its insatiability to rule and those who praise its vices; they become fully surrendered to blindness. The darkness that the Beast spreads across the land called doom; it is a mockery of what the people once knew. Does no one oppose this creature from Hell? No, they soon become weary souls lost within the claws of its contamination. The Beast is spreading a life of splendor, all the while depriving many souls of truth.
This Beast is a serpent, those who follow in its path become deaf to its words, and he claims to be godlike. It dwells above human law, as people walk a dark, narrow and steep path to build his greatness, his followers will struggle in slime while the Beast spreads its rage. The air that once smelled sweet now nothing more than a stench of a murky swamp, most choking on the wrath that one must endure to please and promote the Beast who is untouchable in the highest of places looking down upon its own created filth.
The Beast has no tears or fears, damned are those who praise its glory, damned are those who wallow in its kingdom feeling the gnashing of its teeth. It is the wailing, deplorable and unceasing, that will be heard over what was once the land of greatness and plenty. Laughter can be heard within the walls of those who served him. The gentle Savior will come and the Beast will turn its head away. There will be fear and anguish, people will see the heat of his messages go cold, the beast will fall before the people, and it will have no words. It will walk into hell unhindered and descend upon the path trembling, his time over, his voice stilled by the gentle people.

 

AUTHOR’S NOTE: The Beast with golden hair wants to rule the world it is the people, all people that must open their eyes and see the filth that spews from his mouth, lies. It is not God who can save the people, it is their free will and they must save themselves.

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