Friday, July 22, 2011

My Writing Friends~

For those who are avid writers of blogs and don't already know Magg's as we do, please pay her blog a visit, she is a wonderful writer and an old Journalspace writer of yester-year (which apparently to me holds some clout). Chuckles.

That said? in recent days I've come to think its time to celebrate blog writers with a little mention here and there with every new post. Especially the blog's of which I feel paved the way so many years ago unknowingly and into a craze.

I was on a trip from Canada to California with my family one summer when, sitting in a road side-greasy-spoon-cafe' for breakfast I read an article on the craze of Blog's in the L.A Times.
I ka-fuffled it of course, then crossed my leg over under the sticky booth with which we sat and laughed. The article was written in such a way of new revelation that it was hard not to. Did these people not know that a writing site named Journalspace had beat them to the online writing merely years before? "Humph!" I thought after reading the article, the only thing that was new about it was that someone called it 'blogging' instead of what we called it, 'journaling.'

I suppose however, like anything else, an idea grows and catches on, such as this craze over the years of blogging. And I suppose what I'm feeling tonight is that 'we' as humble journaler's have always been here, though now the numbers of which read us have changed dramatically. Do I miss it? hm..I'd lie if I said no. I think of it this way, if not for a readership why and what would inspire us to write?
Sometimes for me its hard to get to the point. I suppose if I were to explain it I would explain in the only way I know how- Like a fish swimming among a small spool of familiar others with little notice, except? we in the small spool have so much to say and so much passion for swimming, aka, writing.
And do I feel sorry for ourselves? hm...maybe a little at times, but I know with time also comes change, so much change.

Okay. Now with that off my mind...lets talk about the Lower-mainland's weather.
"Humph." What's there to talk of? any local would ask you that. From the valley here clear down to the city of Vancouver we have had no summer to speak of- and if so? for only moments and glimmers while you were in the restroom.
While we talk of the lack of summer this year we also sit back and watch the poor people in the Mid-west of the States burning up, and now eastern Canada.
It's becoming ever-so-clear these days of our choices with summer, the desire here for it falters the minute we turn on the news and see the stifling-sizzling-heat everywhere else. More and more people are with me on- if we had a choice, because I'm not shitting you when I say some of us rather choose this humdrum of a summer here with mild and cooler temps over what everyone else is experiencing in dramatic heat and record breaking temperatures.

My hope for you all is for the breeze of cool air that we have here-funnel its way over to you and cool you down~
Stay hydrated and keep cool the best way you can.
And if you like? show me pictures of summer-I'd love that.

The best to you from me~

Saturday, July 16, 2011

Chapters With My Sweet Friend, Ros.

There are times that I loath the movement of time and all that it generates in the build up and the way it passes by far too quickly, just as I have learned into my forties that, hm, little do I like chapters in life and era's, well, so much, sometimes.
I don't particularly remember my mother telling me that I would find my years through my early forties flash by me with the speed of light, nor do I remember her ever saying I would spend more time reflecting on life as much as I do.
And I do.

Frame of mind. That's all it is, I keep telling myself. Time isn't the evil after all, how I see it...its all in the frame of mind and how you see it. I wish however, I could believe my rational mind- all the time.
That said and this bullying mind that calls "time" the "evil?" I find myself also reflecting upon chapters in life, though not mine, but a dear writing friend named Ros.

There has been many paths walked with Ros, though most and all have been online, spanning a great many years and a great many chapters of our lives.
Ros, like many online writing friend's from our old writing site (Journalspace) live in other countries, though many from the United States. Neither, however, a State close enough for a cup of coffee near the Canadian Border.
Ros, lives in Kansas City, Kentucky, which I know little of that State, and imagine it far enough South for many or all of the fine folk to have a twang accent, though wrong I could be and ignorant as the few that think we here all wear plaid and live in igloo's. Ahem.

I have never met Ros in the true form, such as face to face in person. Nor have I ever talked with her on the phone, however, I do know what she looks like from pictures and know how her garden grows from her talking of it, and again- pictures.
We have passed through the years Christmas cards back and forth, where, both of us have written a little letter. Its always special when you see a hand written letter apposed to a typed letter, somehow it all seems all the more humanized.

There are things such as journey's I know of in Ros's life from reading her journal online for those many years, as there is a small, precious group of others whom have always followed her. We all know each other more than, hm, well, more than some that we know in person that we see all the time. This is a special group of people who hold the greatest amount of compassion and support I have ever met outside of my own family and closet friends here. I hold the utmost regard for each and everyone and always hope that I can be there for them as much as the many have been there for me through my travels. That said? I feel this great need to be here tonight opening my arms and gathering up each and everyone of them tightly, letting them know how much they mean to me and thanking them for not allowing me to falter, or, get lost as so many of us floundered after the loss of our dear home, Journalspace.
That too said? this post is really for Ros, dear Ros and her brave journey through her husband's cancer.

Upon entering Facebook this early evening I found a short message from Ros-
Jim had died.
My heart instantly filled for her to proportions I couldn't possibly explain. Then I had no words and wished for that split second I could find something comforting to say, but what do you say?
It would be a bit later that I would see through the strange images I was having nagging in my head. Did the image of clouds clearing for the glow of sunshine mean something?
I know, its odd, but it nagged at me like once before of someone years ago who lost a loved one. Like Ros, I hadn't ever met them in person though could see so damn clearly of things I couldn't explain.

Perhaps the knowledge of knowing the trials and tributes of one watching another, such as Ros, watching her husband go through years of cancer treatments made my mind instantly turn in motion moving pictures. We so often think of the patient and not the loved one's along side of the patient- obvious with monumental emotion.
True, you need to be fierce, well so I imagine watching and going through something so devastating with the knowing you cannot do one damn thing to change the journey, nor the future. Ros at times was just that, fierce, and when she wasn't? she knew better of it and would on occasion take to her writing and reach out, which I hope she will do in the coming days and months.

And so? I reckon time to be another chapter closed, something obviously bugging me, as much as knowing Ros is going through something I can't reach out and hug her for.
I hold fast on those crazy imagines of the parting clouds and peaking glare of the sun, for reasons of comfort and knowing all will be all right in time, that crazy time I loath as much as seeing chapters flip and fold, not just in my life but in others that mean something to me, all the while knowing I need to accept the closing of one chapter to open another.
I hope, and feel strongly for whatever reason... that Ros has only began, that the chapter is all hers to begin.
There's a hell of a lot of stickers of places she has been (or going to?) on that suitcase- I see it, as I see the path laden in the glow of the sun.
Always your friend, Denise.xo