Tag Archives: heatherfromthegrove

Maya Angelou, your light will continue to shine

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mayaangelou

MAYA ANGELOU

April 4, 1928 – March 28, 2014

R.I.P.

Another inspirational woman has left us too soon.  At 86, Maya Angelou was just as vibrant and brilliant as ever.

A writer, poet, singer, dancer, activist – she was so gifted. 

Her eyes were luminous, expressive and wise.

But, her voice… my goodness, what a voice. 

I will leave you with one of her most beautiful poems, Still I Rise – her words resonate with me deeply.  You can read along, as you listen to her recite the words…. in her own voice (see the video below).

Still I Rise (by Maya Angelou)

You may write me down in history
With your bitter, twisted lies,
You may tread me in the very dirt
But still, like dust, I’ll rise.

Does my sassiness upset you? 
Why are you beset with gloom? 
‘Cause I walk like I’ve got oil wells
Pumping in my living room.

Just like moons and like suns,
With the certainty of tides,
Just like hopes springing high,
Still I’ll rise.

Did you want to see me broken? 
Bowed head and lowered eyes? 
Shoulders falling down like teardrops.
Weakened by my soulful cries.

Does my haughtiness offend you? 
Don’t you take it awful hard
‘Cause I laugh like I’ve got gold mines
Diggin’ in my own back yard.

You may shoot me with your words,
You may cut me with your eyes,
You may kill me with your hatefulness,
But still, like air, I’ll rise.

Does my sexiness upset you? 
Does it come as a surprise
That I dance like I’ve got diamonds
At the meeting of my thighs? 

Out of the huts of history’s shame
I rise
Up from a past that’s rooted in pain
I rise
I’m a black ocean, leaping and wide,
Welling and swelling I bear in the tide.
Leaving behind nights of terror and fear
I rise
Into a daybreak that’s wondrously clear
I rise
Bringing the gifts that my ancestors gave,
I am the dream and the hope of the slave.
I rise
I rise
I rise. 

For my mother

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Mom Reading to son

The Reading Mother
by Strickland Gillilan

 

I had a mother who read to me
Sagas of pirates who scoured the sea,
Cutlasses clenched in their yellow teeth,
“Blackbirds” stowed in the hold beneath.

I had a Mother who read me lays
Of ancient and gallant and golden days;
Stories of Marmion and Ivanhoe,
Which every boy has a right to know.

I had a Mother who read me tales
Of Gelert the hound of the hills of Wales,
True to his trust till his tragic death,
Faithfulness blent with his final breath.

I had a Mother who read me the things
That wholesome life to the boy heart brings–
Stories that stir with an upward touch,
Oh, that each mother of boys were such!

You may have tangible wealth untold;
Caskets of jewels and coffers of gold.
Richer than I you can never be–
I had a Mother who read to me.

The Year of the Cat

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Ollie

“And how do you know that you’re mad? “To begin with,” said the Cat, “a dog’s not mad. You grant that?” I suppose so, said Alice. “Well then,” the Cat went on, “you see a dog growls when it’s angry, and wags it’s tail when it’s pleased. Now I growl when I’m pleased, and wag my tail when I’m angry. Therefore I’m mad.”
― Lewis Carroll, Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland & Through the Looking-Glass

Madness. Writers. Cats. They are not necessarily mutually exclusive. In many instances, they are intertwined in an enigmatic association of sorts.

I am fascinated by my cats – all eight of them.

I also have a beautiful dog, who happens to be equally bemused by all these feline creatures.

He has no choice really, since he is outnumbered.

As I juggle between multiple book projects and a few intermittent life challenges that test my crisis management skills, these cats are my constant. My muses. Their serenity and poise help me to keep things in perspective. They bring me joy. And I do not take joy for granted. Not for one moment.

“I love cats because I enjoy my home; and little by little, they become its visible soul.”
― Jean Cocteau

It is not uncommon for writers to have an affinity for cats. Ernest Hemingway, Neil Gaiman, Jean Cocteau, Jean Paul Sartre, Stephen King… just to mention a few.

This marvelous photo of writer/philosopher/political activist Jean Paul Sartre and his existential cat epitomizes this writer’s obsession.

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I’ll leave you with a song that I used to listen to ad nauseam…. back in the mid 1970’s. I just listened to it the other day and, man, did it bring back a flood of memories!

The Year of the Cat

(released in 1976 by singer-songwriter Al Stewart)

This is the long, live version performed in 1979

 

Top image: photo credit by Heather Joan Marinos (Copyright © 2014 by Heather Joan Marinos. All rights reserved).

Bottom image: photo via buzzfeed.com.

The Ides of March and lessons learned

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MayaAngelou

(Photo Credit: Dwight Carter)

And so I will, Maya.

For me, the month of March came in like a lion and crisis management skills were put to the test…

… until the 26th, when a ceasefire occurred.  Someone or something (you may call it God, The Universe, Fate, spirits of loved ones long since gone,  or simply the natural order of things) pressed the “Pause” button. A feral cat that I’d been nurturing at home, gave birth to a litter of four healthy kittens.  A kitten (only 11 months old) herself having kittens.

There’s a lesson that I want to share, so stay with me… this is not one of my Catmania stories (I’ll save those for another time!).

I made an assumption about this kitten (“Ophie” –  short for Ophelia… think Hamlet).  Because she is still very kitten-like (behaviorally), I was certain that her youth and inexperience would cause her to mishandle the birthing process and that she would either abandon, mishandle or harm her litter.

I was so wrong.

With luminous eyes and soft whimpers, she gave birth to each kitten and knew exactly what to do and how to do it.  Her natural mother’s instinct kicked into full gear and this kitten became a diligent, loving mother. To see her, you’d never guess that this was her first litter. I was filled with awe. Still am.

It made me think long and hard (this is where the lesson comes in) and I realized that some of the recent crises in my life have skewed my perspective… and not in a good way.  Too often, these days, I assume that the worst will happen, rather than the best (or at least, the “better”).  I’ve always been a worry wart, but I’ve taken it to new levels and perhaps this attracts more negative energy, thus creating more problems, more crises, and more drama.

Clearly, someone or something thought that I needed an “Aha” moment.

Point taken.

And so, I share this lesson with all of you.

As a very wise friend of mine often reminds me…  “Everything is going to be okay.”

Maybe it’s time to believe it.

I am grateful that March is going out like a lamb.

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Ophie (Ophelia) and her babies (Photo Credit: Heather Joan Marinos)

 

For My Love

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“It was the time when they loved each other best, without hurry or excess, when both were most conscious of and grateful for their incredible victories over adversity. Life would still present them with other mortal trails, of course, but that no longer mattered: they were on the other shore.” 
― Gabriel Garcí­a Márquez, Love in the Time of Cholera

It’s not whether you win or lose, but how you play the game

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Here’s a little morale booster to kick start the upcoming week …

“You know what a winner is? A winner is somebody who has given his best effort, who has tried the hardest they possibly can, who has utilized every ounce of energy and strength within them to accomplish something. It doesn’t mean that they accomplished it or failed, it means that they’ve given it their best. That’s a winner.”
― Walter Payton

In Honor of Dr. Martin Luther King Jr.

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In the words of the late, honorable Martin Luther King, Jr. :

“In the end, we will remember not the words of our enemies, but the silence of our friends.” 

“There comes a time when silence is betrayal.” 

“Never, never be afraid to do what’s right, especially if the well-being of a person or animal is at stake. Society’s punishments are small compared to the wounds we inflict on our soul when we look the other way.” 

When hunger hits close to home… what would you do?

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“America is the richest country in the world. And yet tonight, thousands of your neighbors will go to bed hungry.
It may be your child’s schoolmate who is undernourished and has difficulty learning on an empty stomach.
Or it could be a co-worker, a working mother whose low-wage job doesn’t make ends meet.
Perhaps it’s an elderly neighbor who has to make a decision whether to delay filling a prescription or buying groceries.
The faces of hunger are as broad as the faces of America.”
~ David Nasby, General Mills

How many of  us (and our families) could survive on $30 per week?
If we knew a family member, friend or neighbor who was starving, would we give him (or her, or their family) food?
Would we even notice the signs, or would we wait for them to have to swallow their pride and ask?
Some soul-searching questions, indeed.

Sometimes, the only way to fully understand the gravity and indignity of hunger is to walk in a hungry person’s shoes.  A very interesting experiment that would be, wouldn’t it?

Writer’s Motto: Press On

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“Nothing in this world can take the place of persistence.

Talent will not; nothing is more common than unsuccessful people with talent.

Genius will not; unrewarded genius is almost a proverb.

Education will not; the world is full of educated derelicts.

Persistence and determination alone are omnipotent. The slogan ‘press on’ has solved and always will solve the problems of the human race.”

— Calvin Coolidge

And so, it’s time for me to press on…

… the manuscript awaits.