Holding On and Moving On

     The last couple years have changed me as a person. With this in mind, I yearn to reach out and to blog again. However, I cannot do so as The Damsel. I have changed to much. While I hold onto the core of me. The writer, the poet. I must move on to a different way of expressing and being. For some this change will seem paltry. For me it has been cleansing. I am moving onto a new blog platform. A link all my own, a website fully functional to the new whims I have.

     I am pleased to introduce you to gossamerlens.com 

     In the blogpost of the same name "Holding On and Moving On" you will find an entry into a new chapter. For sometimes as we grow we must make space for the old us but move on to fulfill ourselves.

     If you wish to continue reading my work, supporting my writing, and see how I have grown and wish to grow my blogger presence... I hope you will scroll to the bottom of the gossamerlens.com and give me a like over there. Following 2019 posts will be posted both here and on my new blog. However, come 2020 it will be all about moving on. 

     Much love, and with goodbyes, The Damsel. 

     Ald Idunn, the new me, looks forward to greeting you.

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Making a Difference ~ Guest Post

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How do you want to make a difference?

Here is what _CarvedWords_ believes you should be working on to make a difference: 

     One way or another, we all wish that we're able to make a difference in this world even by a bit if it is possible to us. There are loads of everyday things I'd like to change if it were possible for me. 

     Education has limited itself to textbooks and syllabus. Students are only taught to solve the equations and write answers as they are expected in the examinations. Students can be seen getting good marks with grades higher then expected. They can answer all the questions which relate to the textbook. But what about what's outside? What's actually going on in the real world? The more they indulge themselves into the textbooks, the more their creativity gets limited. 

     Education is meant to make learners. Not to destroy the artist within them. We can spot students conquering heights of success, but with that seems to come a low creativity. At the end of the day, a person won't be proud of the position he has in a multinational company. All he would need is creativity to fill his life with enthusiasm and joy. Education should bring out an artist in a student, because every student has got one talent or another. Teachers should encourage the talent within them. Students should be taught to be passionate towards their goals. 

     I don't blame the system as a whole, neither do I have any offense with the knowledge and the quality of it the education is providing students. I just wanna say that even after these efforts there still remains a huge gap gap between education and creativity. We as a society have our responsibility towards making the change that is needed. We've got to do something to reduce this gap, we gotta build a strong bridge between both education and creativity. 

     If I could make a difference, I would like people to change their mindset towards education, making it free from all the chains it has been tied to. Creating a strong bond between education and creativity. Giving this world creative minds rather than those with high IQ's. Making this world colorful, making it a better place. 

~~~

This is how Words_In_Air thinks you can make a difference: 

     The language of love. Make wide spaces in your heart. Life gets so chocked up, kindness so lost, love slips by unseen. Smile at a stranger, help an old lady carry her shopping, offer to cook a meal for someone who's sick. Volunteer at your local church, hospice, old age home, or orphanage. Read to someone who's disabled. It's good to donate something to a worthy cause, but what people crave is human interaction. Look into their eyes, listen with attention to their stories. Take an interest in their personal lives. That smelly beggar down the road? He just wants kindness from you. Ask him his name, give him a compliment, bless him with a pair of shoes, or something to eat and drink. You don't have to strike a conversation with everyone you meet, but the next time you are waiting in line, greet someone and smile. Buy a small chocolate for the checkout girl and bless her. 
It's the little things! 

     If you bless others, you yourself will be blessed. 

Yellowing Pages

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Sitting here writing

Wisps of image

Shrouded shadow

Of Imagined future

Passed before me

Danced like film

Across my vision

The cold

It touched my shoulder

The sounds

They faded away

Like yellowing pages

And I saw your face

As it could be

Your arm over

Around my shoulders

The whisper 

Of those words

The ones I love

To hear you say

Then it crumpled 

Like falling dough

The bread collapsed

And I was chewing 

On nothing

Poem 105 ~ 4/10/2013

     Memories, feelings, and thoughts diminish over time.  What once was often changes.  Sometimes, looking over older poems the emotions I wrote feel like a lie.  As the writer, I know what each poem was born through.  However, just because the adoration, pain, or perspective has passed as I've grown... that doesn't negate the validity of writing.  Every poem has helped me realize, handle, and come to grips with what I have felt.  At the moment of creation, each poem has filled it's purpose.  

     I have grown, I have changed.  I continue to feel, and I must accept the moving on that is life.  You cannot cling on to who you have been, or who you were.  Later it may feel like you chewed on nothing.  But at the time, that "nothing" felt like something.  Poetry is a way to express my now, and reflect on the past.  

     "I am a slave to emotion... Pens... Keep working... Until I need you no more... which will be when I stop feeling" 

                    Poem 106 ~ 4/11/13

To Feel My Love

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You say

My cheeks

Are beautiful

These ones

I contour

And hate

Trace my jawline

With your kisses

Hold my hips

Breathe my air

Hold me

Like poetry

Love me

Like warmth

You are the first

I can see forever

Despite the chasm

Of unknown

I'm afraid of falling

But it almost

Looks appealing

And my heart is breaking

But my breath is leaving

Oh Gosh

These feels

Poem 234

A Mother

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She drinks in the sobs
Of her child.
She comforts and consoles.
She brushes away the tears,
From a plump little face.
She kisses away the hurt,
And the sorrows of a second.
She firmly tells the child, "No."
Then she distracts with a toy.
She softly sings her darling to sleep,
On those fearsome nights
When only a mother's voice
Can comfort her child.
She cleans a child's muddy clothes
Without a word of thanks.

~

And as her child grows
She consoles the hurt of minutes -
The whiplash of a careless comment;
The sting of not being able to go;
The laughing faces of her child's peers.
She leads her child to safer waters,
Steering by example.
And when her child is hurt,
Truly hurt,
She hurts as well;
And her heart aches
For the wants of her growing child.

~

And when her child leaves
She gets the front row seat;
To watch the play unfold.
And if the play shows danger,
For her grown up child,
She simply slips back stage
And helps her child iron
The kinks out of their play.

~

And why does she do all this?
She does it because she loves
Her little child
With the tenderness of a butterfly
With the strength of an elephant
And with the heart of a lion.
What a wonderful love
Is the love of a mother!

 Poem 7 ~ 2011

Shield and Sword

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     With my arms

     I have tried to protect you

     I told you

     Of my joys

     So my wounds

     You couldn't share

     I petitioned to God 

     For him to give you wonder

     My prayers were themed 

     Asking for you to be free

     If I was in pain

     My heart would soar

     Thinking that you hurt not

     That you were innocent

     In my dreams 

     They take you

     And it is I who comes

     When they prepare their knives

  

     I come to you

     And they watch me 

     Hungrily they watch

     And I give myself for you

     I take your pain

     They torture, eat, hold me

     And my only joy

     Is knowing they cannot touch you

     In life I would do it

     I would take pain

     The pain meant for you

     

     It wasn't until now that I saw

     The greatest pain

     My arms can't deflect 

     Is me

     And that eventually I must leave

     My arms cannot shield 

     For they are the pain

     I sacrifice myself 

     But my sacrifice hurts you

     Last night I dreamt 

     They I gave myself to

     And the greatest pain

     Was feeling your eyes watch

     There was no joy

     And your eyes

     They hurt the most

 Poem 89 ~ 3/14/2013

Christianity is?

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     Christianity.  It is something simple. Christianity is to have a belief in Christ. It is a belief in the words of the New Testament.

     So then, why would it ever need be asked, "What is Christianity?"

     In the world their are LDS believers, "Mormons" if you will. They live and worship around the globe. The official name of their religion is "The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints."  I am among this group of people. We all believe in Christ. We read the bible, and those with true faith turn to our Savior as our Reedemer and Salvation.  In every sense of the term, we believe in Christ. 

     When I was around 8 I was informed, by a friend of mine, that I didn't believe in Christ. My young friend informed that my soul was in peril. I refuted her words saying, "I'm mormon. I believe in Christ. We all do." She looked at me and simply stated, "Well your not Christian... So my mom says your going to hell." 

     At age 8 I was confused. Believeing in Christ and his purpose is the definition of Christianity. Thus, I was a Christian.

     As I have grown I have become more able to say with certainty that I am a Christian. Yet, increasingly I have found that my non-mormon friends do not agree with me. Many times I have asked why, and increasingly I have found that... People don't know. They don't know why they consider Mormons "non-Christian." They just know they do. Many parroting, as my friend did, "My parents say!" Or, "My pastor told us." 

     I have learned to accept that Mormons aren't considered to be Christian, among many main stream christian sects. Leaving one fundamental thing to bug me. And that is, I am. I feel and know for myself that Christ is my Savior and Redeemer. Because of this faith, I wish to glorify him. I wish my actions to reflect his love, mercy, and example. I wish to lead others to Christ, and I wish my life to be a reflection of his. How though can others be led to Christ if they do not see me as a Christian? 

     Well... They can, if I have faith. I can live to glorify him, and pray that my works can reflect my Savior's glory. For it is through him, and him alone, that mankind may be saved. I can live hoping that my actions will speak louder then others learned notions. For if Christ is with me, his Spirit will testify.

     No matter what teachings may cloud the human mind, the Holy Spirit can always point to truth, and to Christ. 

Pushed Into Flight

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     I say tweet tweet in the wind,
     The new bird can fly
     Mama bird gives a worm to eat
     I sit and think
     Brother bird sings a poem
     Baby bird sleeps.....

     This is the first poem I ever wrote.  I have no memory of writing it.  I declare that it is my first based off of the fact that my mother remembers writing down my words, and that my Grandpa wrote it down for himself.

     When I had just turned 13 my Grandpa gave me two sheets of paper.  Both together contained a grand total of three poems.  He and I sat together on his lazy boy (myself sitting on my arm rest perch).  He read me the poems with tenderness in his voice.  I listened. When he finished I asked him where they were from. He looked into my eyes and told me that they were my very own words. He told me that when I was 3 my mother called him and read to him these poems.  Careful to get every word he typed them up on his laptop. Now he was showing them to me.  His eyes showed pride.  Pride in me and these poems from the child I had been but don't remember being.

      A couple weeks before this moment, I had been under the impression that I had written my first poem.  It was a silly one, but the rhyme was good and the meter rather fair.  Now he told me that it was actually my 4th poem.  After 10 years of keeping it on his computer he wanted me to have a copy.

     "What for?" I asked.  "Why is this important?"

     I wish I could remember his exact words... but I cannot.  However, the condensed version I retain is, "These poems have a child's emotions portrayed in a natural setting.  Feeling is portrayed.  That is where the beauty lies. In the emotion."

     Only a little bit latter he died.  It was raw emotion. It was pain. And it reminded me of what he said. That beauty lies in the emotion.  And so, I wrote. I wrote my 5th poem. One full of love, longing, pain, and missing. The emotion pushed... and my wings unfurled.  I was pushed into a flight of expression.  A flight that sheds many poems, and helps me process the things I feel.

     Scraps and fragments
     Only pieces are good
     These 200 poems
     They hold shattered, scattered lines
     Scattered lines of beauty
     Pens have wasted ink
     I hope they except apologies
     However I'll keep wasting them
     Because I need to
     I'm a slave to emotion
     Pens, I am sorry
     But you shouldn't be
     So keep working
     Until I need you no more
     Which will be when I stop feeling

Thank You!

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     Recently I hit 3,500 views.  It hit and I was freakin' out.  (Yes spell check claims that "freakin'" isn't a word... it is people. It is.)

     I was just so pleased.  My thoughts have been taken in and considered 3000+ times! I was just like, "Did you see that? Are you seeing this? Oh my goodness... maybe I actually can write interesting things!"  And this, clearly and most logically, led to Twilight.

     I mean.... "write interesting things." What is that?  Twilight gave teenage girls everywhere something easy, wanted, and fluffy to read.  Kinda like whipped cream.  Who doesn't like spraying rich, creamy, fluffy, digestible whipped cream into their mouth?!?  Okay... maybe those allergic to milk... but you get what I'm trying to say.  Twilight was written poorly, it came in a cheap can, yet it fed teen girls what they wanted complete with a cherry on top.  As a generalization girls want to be seen, desired, loved, and know that there guy will be proud of her, and fight for her.  Bella had nothing interesting about her.  So, if it could happen for her, couldn't it happen for anyone??

     Twilight was a classic, and rather potent case of giving an audience what they want.

     Bleak House, and Les Miserables however are examples of books that didn't give what an audience what they wanted.  Instead they gave what was needed.  

     They gave thought, and talent, rather then sugar coated desire. 

     So when I go to my blog to update, check, and write new content... and I see that I have now reached the thousands.  I look at it and hope with all my heart that there are views because what I say is actually interesting, thoughtful, and lovely.

     When I first started this blog, I really wanted to get my ideas out. I wanted to let my thoughts be read.  That dream is being fulfilled, and it has gone infinitely better then I thought it would.  I now have more then 3 views... From my mom. I have over 3,000 from people I know, and those I don't!

     Thank you to all those who have viewed, and will view my thoughts.  I love that, even for a brief moment, our souls can be joined through my writing and your reading. 

Will We Ever Heal?

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     The other day, nearing the end of my chemistry class, a friend of mine pulled out his phone and then laughed.  Being the naturally inquisitive person I am, I asked what was funny.  My friend began by explaining that on Twitter there is an anonymous feed called "yik yak."  Then he asked "You know how all the Black people sit on the bench at the top of the stairs? Right next to the entrance?"  Without waiting for a response he read what someone had said over yik yak.

     A nameless user of yik yak had written, "Did you see that slave auction at the top of the stairs?"

     I'm not sure how to describe my distress.  Not only was I chagrined (to put it lightly) that someone would say such a thing, however I also felt anguish over the fact that this friend of mine could find such an offensive thing funny.  I felt truly miserable because when he read it out loud I was one of only a handful that seemed to think it inappropriate.  At least 7 others (in a class of 20) laughed out loud, and no one but me and one other, said we thought it a disgusting thing to say.

     This experience was something that really affected me.  I think that it isn't so much just because I was disappointed with my friends (in this instance), but more so because it made me think on a bigger scale.

     In the 1870's our country, America, passed the 15th amendment.  This amendment gave African American's the right to vote.  Sadly, at that point, though the law allowed for them to vote, many states set up events, laws, or scare tactics to keep them from the voting booths.  Now I think it is safe to say that those obstacles and issues have been removed.  However, how well do we maintain equality?

     I don't think anyone in my chemistry class would say African American's shouldn't vote.  I think that the person who posted anonymously on yik yak wouldn't say such a thing to their fellow students face.  This being said, on some level, equality was not shown in this instance.

     Our country is a healing one.  America began as the land of the "free."  All better off white males were free.  Our young nation has improved and exemplified this statement more fully over the last few centuries. By giving African Americans, women, and average citizens legal rights, and many social rights as well. However, it clearly has more room to grow.  Though the laws reflect equality I think we have yet to gain an equal and free minded nation overall.

     I hope that someday such rude and cruel things will not be said at all, much less received in such a disgusting bout of mirth.

Doctor Who

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     Doctor Who... what to say... hmmmm...

     Well, how about I go with what I am thinking which is pretty much this: I NEVER thought I'd like Doctor Who... well before August that is.  Here is the thing.  I really did try, hard, to like it for awhile.  Unfortunately the first season I watched was just kinda lame.  I mean, Rose Tyler.  Come-on?  Who likes her?!  I might have just offended someone.  Sorry!  But really, the first Episodes with the 9th Doctor were truly... not my thing.  The computer graphics were strange, Rose was terrible, and I was expecting something 'scary.' 

     Somehow I got through that season though and my 'work' payed off.  I surprised myself... I don't know when, but at some point I realized that I liked the show.  I found myself laughing at the wonderful things the Doctor says, and even though I never really liked Rose, I found her bearable.  I may have even cried when she left the Doctor.

     I truly enjoy it now and would say I'm pretty much a whovian and that bow ties, converse, and Tardis Blue are some of my favorite things because of it.

     Now I think I've sufficiently said all I want to about Doctor Who.  Though I could say more... why should I?  Okay... actually... I'm just going to continue on with it.  So, here I go with a list:

Reasons I like Doctor Who:

1.   The Doctor is a gentleman, and its nice. 
2.   The Tardis is bigger on the inside, and smaller on the outside... which is just fun.  
3.   I laugh almost every episode (after that first season this definitely applies).
4.   I love a lot of the side characters.
5.   Doctor Who gives you something to talk about.  It just does.  It's a fact people. 
6.   David Tenant made me cry... a couple of times.  He was wonderful. 
7.   Even though I cried when David Tenant left (and felt like I might hate the show again) I fell in love with Matt Smith and now I can't imagine his leaving.  Well... I can imagine it.... I might cry... a lot. 
8.   Bow ties are legitimately cool in of themselves and the Doctor liking them makes it that much better.
9.   I can watch the show with my WHOLE family!!  Their aren't a lot of shows you can do that with.  Although, I still think Firefly is the best TV show still I do enjoy the Doctor's family friendly-ness. 
10.   I just like it... its funny.  Its enjoyable.  How do you explain love? I don't know.  How do you explain liking Doctor Who?  I don't know... 

I will be back with something different latter.  For now, I shall enjoy being a teenage browncoat whovian.
Let me leave you with a quote: "Wibbly wobbly timey wimey... stuff."

This is Me on Learning

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     I believe in learning: learning about science and history; math and grammar; the arts and anything in between.  Since that time when I first started to read, I began to understand what learning was.  Learning is the process by which you soak up knowledge.  It is something you can do while in a formal classroom or while playing as a child.  You can learn from simply reading a novel or from scrutinizing everything you can find about a specific topic.

     All cultures and societies around the globe have been built by each generation’s knowledge.  Humanity has been structured around leading individuals’ knowledge and what the current generation has learned from the past.  What we learn is important because it will help shape us, those we talk to, write for, and teach.

     I believe in learning because it is the way my ancestors and all of mankind can tell me about themselves.  Charles Darwin and Einstein have given a part of themselves so that we can build on what they discovered.  Victor Hugo and Charles Dickens have shared, through writing, their take on the world that surrounded them.  Isaac Newton made a whole mathematical system, calculus, that is still used today.   

     When we learn, we take part in a process that is ancient and ever changing.  Everyone learns in a slightly different way.  Some learn visually, others learn through music, and some by moving while studying, while others learn in many more diverse ways.  Still, we can all learn.  We can learn and then teach, so that others may learn about the world from our perspective.  Then we can also become a part of the immortality of learning. 

     I believe that we will take our knowledge with us when we die.  Thus, learning and gaining knowledge are important not only for their value during our life on earth, but also for their value after life on earth.  What we learn will affect who we are forever.  

     When we learn, it intertwines us with the whole of humanity.  It adds a layer of polished knowledge to the time of tomorrow.  It can help make the world a better place than it was yesterday.  We must learn so that we can help the future generations move a step farther than we can.  

Writing a Legacy

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     My first memories are of reading with my parents.  My favorites then included Peter Pan and anything by Doctor Suess.  I would follow my parents fingers as they pointed to what they read.  My mom did reading lessons with me.  It began a love of reading and the English language that would, and will last me throughout my entire life.
  

     I was enchanted with reading, not writing.  I would sometimes make up my own stories and on very rare occasions write a poem.  However, essays and reports always frustrated me.  I loved the feeling of completion, yet the beginning always discouraged me.

     When I was 11, my grandpa had a heart attack.  It made me realize my mortality.  I felt fragile and suddenly vulnerable.  This, coupled with the fact that I was moving at the same time, made the world, as I knew it, seem gloomier.  In short, my image of the world was shattered.

     However, right after my grandpa’s heart attack he and my nanna decided to move into the rental house that was on our new piece of property.  I was overjoyed!  They would be living in my backyard.  Soon after they moved, I realized that my grandpa wrote constantly.  In fact, he wrote almost as much as I read.  Then he wrote a book just for me.  I loved it so much that I talked him into writing a sequel.  He started the book, and quickly I was pulled into being his partner-in-writing.  I began to love the writing process.  We wrote an outline for a third book in the series.  Then (promising that we would write that third book later) we started a new series.

     We were on a roll. 

     In early January, about two years ago, my grandpa showed me a file that he had saved on his computer.  It was only one page long and contained only three poems.  My grandpa could tell from my confused eyes that I needed an explanation.  He told me that when I was three, my mom had called him and read these same poems for him, I had written them.  He had saved them in this file so that I could read them when I was older.  He was proud of me, and had tears in his eyes.  Only one week later my Grandpa died.  His heart had simply stopped at the age of 61.  

     After only 13 years of life, I knew the pain of death.  I then remembered the words my grandpa uttered at a nameless date and time.  He had said, “We can write together right now, but one day we won’t be able to. You will, someday, have to write on your own or not at all.” 

     The day after his death, I wrote a poem.  Since then I have written poetry, short stories, essays, and reports, and have even published a few pieces of my work.  I have learned from my grandpa, the love of writing.  It is a magical process.  I now know what it is to create your own paintings with words.  I now look at a blank page and imagine what it can become, what I can make of it.  Eventually through hard work, practice, and learning I will become the writer I know I can become.  

     This is how I found my love of writing.

Firefly, or Rather, Perfection

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     Sometimes when I watch something, and more often when I read something, I get this strange fluttery feeling.  Its not like this giddy feeling, but its something that I feel when my mind says That was really good.  To be honest, I don't get that feeling a lot.  In fact I get it rarely.

     One thing that gives me this indescribable feeling is a show that I was introduced to a while ago.  The person who introduced me was my wonderful mother.  She was the one who said we should start watching Firefly together.  However, I watched the first episode with my Grandpa, mom, and dad.  The first episode is awesome.  It is also about 85 minutes long.

     The first time I watched it I was sitting next to my Grandpa.  I still don't know if the fluttery feeling was because I really liked that first episode or if it was because I was really happy to be watching something while snuggled up next to my Grandpa... whatever the reason it was amazing.

     That was two years ago though.  So, in February (If I'm remembering correctly) I re-started watching Firefly. When I say I re-started I mean that I watched the 1st episode again.  But guess what?!  It gave me the same exact feeling... again.  And every episode has given me the same feeling at one point or another.

     My conclusion: Firefly is Perfection.

     Second conclusion: The people who stopped funding it clearly had/have no brain... and if they do it just makes it worse.

     My heart is breaking over the fact that there is only 14 episodes/1 season.  Every moment of those 14 episodes are worthwhile.  My Grandpa loved Firefly, and I can see why.  It is perfect because of the just how deep the characters are.  River and her brother Simon are perfect together.  Mal's loyalty to his crew, and how they return that affection is beautiful.  The relationships between the different charecters are amazing.  And this is only half of it.  There is also the setting, and plot which makes everything more interesting.

     Firefly, you are perfection.  Netflix, thank you for having it on instant play.

     Everybody, if you have time to watch a little less then 1,700 minutes of perfection then you should watch Firefly... if you don't I am sorry for you.  Truly sorry.  However, you should at least watch the sequel movie, which makes perfect sense even if you haven't watched what there is of the show.  It's perfection to, although it's called Serenity, not perfection.