Willing to Ask in Humility

At times we must swallow our pride

Seek out from others what we do not have

Keeping in mind that we don’t have to do it alone

 

Friends and family are all around

Only waiting for their hand to be taken

Reaching back and reaching out at the same time

 

How often have you thought, “I don’t need anyone else?”

Even as the water flows over your head and covers your mouth?

Let them in, let them help, let them be there for you and yours

Please remember that it heals wounds in them that you cannot see.

 

Sometimes being humble means:

-taking lessons from others you believe are less than yourself

-backing down

-accepting the consequences of your actions

And sometimes, sometimes being humble means letting another serve and help you even though you want to stand on your own feet. There is no dishonor in accepting aid when it is needed and offered and given.

Inspired by the Dungeon Prompt: Humbling Ourselves

 

Dreams of Ashes

She’d spent years working towards it, studied it for all of her other ‘you get to choose’ essays from third grade all the way up through college and university. It had been her passion, her desire to just know what was going on that had pushed and pushed and pushed her to continue studying it throughout the long years.

She’d wanted to help people the way others had helped her and those important to her.

If only she had realized the great problem in front of her.

In order to be an effective therapist, you must be able to keep your distance, emotionally, to your patient so that you can remain objective.

When she tried to remain distant, like she was supposed to, she came off as apathetic and like she didn’t care at all. If she was approachable and friendly, then she wasn’t able to keep up the professionalism needed at times.

Either her heart would lead or her head, they could not share the task, no matter how she tried and practiced.

She just wasn’t able to work that way.


And that is why I decided to move away from getting a degree in Psychology and went for another of the things I love (and am a mite obsessed with), Interior Design (or organizing and building things…and running a farm, though that’s a new love that I have discovered by actually living on a farm.)

I wanted to help people, like I had been helped, but there’s a line that they teach you about when you’re studying for an actual degree in order to do anything official. And in order to respect that line, I have a hard time empathizing with people. Or, at least letting them know that I’m more than just ice inside.

Words on a page can change depending on the voice reading them, but the voice itself can have a hard time being heard correctly when there are restraints required on it.

This little bit of soul searching was brought to you by the Dungeon Prompt: Be Careful What You Wish For.

 

Take It With You

I love to see the temple…For the temple is the House of God, a place of love and beauty. –“I Love to See the Temple” from the Children’s Songbook

 

There are many happy places, but the happiest is when you know that you are safe, when you know that those around you care for you no matter what. When you know that nothing bad can happen to you there.

For me, it’s family and there is nowhere that brings family together better than the temple of the Lord.

 

“As a child of God, I know this truth, the family is forever.” –“I Love to See the Temple” from the Children’s Songbook

 

It is true that you have to work to be happy, it doesn’t just come easily. If it did, would we cherish it so? Would it mean the same to us? No, probably not.

So.

You have to work to be happy.

My family makes me want to be happy, makes me want to be a better person. That takes a lot of work.

Being worthy for the temple, to be able to go inside the House of the Lord, that takes effort. You can’t just coast for it, you have to sit down and decide what you are and aren’t going to do in order to qualify for it and then you have to stick to it. The decision can be hard enough, but to keep to that decision is just as difficult. Sometimes more so.

But I don’t live close to the temple anymore. (Moving to the other side of a mountain range into a valley that doesn’t have four temples up and is at least an hour away from the nearest one does that to a person.)

But the Spirit of the Lord, that same Spirit that is present in the temple at all times, can be with you outside and everywhere. So you can bring the feelings of happiness that are in the temple with you when you leave. You can have them at the part, at church, at your home, on the road.

Anywhere.

If you just work hard enough for it, everywhere can be your happy place, because it is something that you can take with you.

Always.


This short ramble was brought to you by the Dungeon Prompt: Getting to Our Happy Place

 

Why I Still Blog

I began blogging for a very different reason to why I continue to blog. The prompt didn’t ask about why I started blogging, so I’m going to skip mentioning the selfish reason that I began blogging. I’m going to go into why I’ve continued to blog.

I like to write. I’ve always liked to write and tell stories. Since I started blogging I’ve discovered that I enjoy writing poetry as well, which is something new to me. I enjoyed writing poetry in middle and high school when it was for my different classes, but never really thought that I’d do much with it outside of assignments that I needed to turn in for my grade. The first time I posted poetry on this blog, it just happened. I don’t even remember what the poem was about (and I’m writing this particular post at my house that still doesn’t have internet, which means that yes, this post will be posted probably up to a month after it was initially written) just that it was what I ended up writing and then posting.

It wasn’t supposed to be a regular thing on the blog, my poetry, until it suddenly was.

I love to write, I have to write. Even before I had a blog, I wrote. I wrote original work and fanfiction and non-fiction. Even when I’m working at home, I have stories and ideas going through my head all the time.

There is no escape.

So I blog in an attempt to share what’s going on in my head with everyone else.

And maybe, someday, I’ll actually publish something.

This tiny ramble was brought to you by the Dungeon Prompt: Why do you blog?

 

Old Magic

The magic glittered all around her as she laughed and ran and played. The lake was so large, but not large enough that she couldn’t dance across the tiny waves that the wind caused. The river, just as wide as the lake, it seemed, was gentle as she landed on the large boulder in its middle. She plopped down, only slightly winded from dancing across the lake and down the river to the boulder itself, her legs dangling over the edge and the flowing water teasing and tickling the edges of her toes. She giggled happily, joyfully even as she flopped back and let the sun-warmed stone behind her help to dry up the water that had lightly soaked her during her play.

The sun was so warm and though it did nothing to her skin (no tan ever seemed to stick to the girl’s skin, not that she cared generally, but the incessant sunburns that few others in her family had to deal with were really getting on her nerves) she enjoyed the heat it engendered for several more minutes before jumping up and skipping back across the river in order to run through the fields and find her favorite cherry tree. (It was the only cherry tree, but that didn’t really matter to her in the end.) The tree still had some of its summer fruit on it and she gleefully picked a few from the highest branches (the only part that still had any of the tiny red berries) and ate them while still clinging to the gently swaying limbs.

This summer was glorious, but all summers in the Valley were glorious. There was always some kind of fruit in season: apples (six different kinds!), grapes (though you had to leave the Valley for those…), pears, plums (only three or four different kinds), cherries, peaches, gooseberries… The supply was endless as each month something was in harvest. She knew that there had once been other trees and bushes with fruit growing on them, though those trees had long since vanished from the Valley, likely some Evil Plague that had been sent down to frighten the inhabitants of the Valley away so that others could come and claim it.

It wouldn’t have been the first time that someone had tried to take the Valley from its rightful inhabitants and it likely wouldn’t be the last. Such a fertile and idyllic place was often sought after by all and sundry.

Even up in the cherry tree she could see movement in the fields of wild wheat up on one of the hills. Her eyes narrowed and she crouched in the tree, eyes still following the line that was being drawn in the wild wheat before springing out of the tree and racing through the fields and other trees, through the large sentinel-like juniper bushes that were on either side of the entrance to the wild wheat fields. She was careful to not trample the wild wheat (it would do no good flattened on the ground) and tracked the figure who was only several yards in front of her now.

Without any kind of cry (though she wasn’t completely silent) she pounced on the supposed intruder, rolling with them down the hill until the figure was pinned beneath her.

“Was there a reason that you just wrestled me to the ground?” came a voice that she knew, dry in its humor and with only a bit of a threat hidden within it.

She blinked and then flushed, “Oops?”

She scrambled off of the person she’d…well, attacked…before she was flung off.

Her sister had never been the most forgiving type.

“I thought you might be an intruder into the Valley.” She explained as she continued to back away from her advancing younger sister.

“Really, now.”

It wasn’t a question and without another word, her younger sister pounced (much better than she had, she noted silently even as she tried, and failed, to escape.) They went down and she realized that the only reason she’d won in the first place was because her sister had let her.

After a good ten minutes of tussling, she gave up and lay flat, breathing loudly.

“Are we even now?” she eventually asked.

Her sister made a show of thinking it over, “Maybe. I’ll think about it. So what’s this idea that there are intruders in the Valley?”

She shrugged, “It was just a thought, probably nothing.”

Her sister’s eyes narrowed and she stopped getting off of her, deciding to pin her back down, “That’s not what I asked. Spill.”

“It was nothing, can I please get up?”

“No.”

They argue like that for a few more minutes while she tried to dislodge her sister a few times before giving in. It was always best to just give in to her sister; her sister was the natural leader of the two even if she was the one who usually had to actually make her sister’s crazy plans work out.

“I…I, uh, think that some of the problems we’ve been having in the Valley have been a Plague Curse or something, to chase us out so someone, uh, someone else can, uh, take the Valley for their own.” She’d mumbled through the last bit and looked at the ground.

She waited for her sister to say something.

She didn’t.

She waited some more.

Nothing.

Finally, she peeked up through her (covered in dirt and twigs and leaves) bangs at her sister. Her sister looked thoughtful, her brow furrowed and her mouth drawn down into a frown as the thoughts flew across her eyes rapidly.

Apparently her wait in silence would continue, because interrupting her sister when she was thinking led to not good things happening. To her, always to her, because she just wasn’t the most patient of people and was always trying to hurry things along when, if she’d just waited even five seconds more things would have been fine.

Yeah, she had issues with waiting quietly.

Issues that were about to come up again if her sister didn’t say something already.

Before she could open her mouth and say or do something stupid, her sister nodded to herself and seemed to come to a decision.

“We need to bring our brother into this, he’s traveled the most outside of the Valley, he’ll know what’s going on outside and if there’s been any rumors of wars or plagues or anything that would be a problem for the Valley.”

She cringed; she’d hoped that her sister wouldn’t want to contact their brother.

“He’s, uh, he’s not…available…right now.”

Her sister paused in her pacing, which she had started when she’d started talking and laying out what they were going to discuss with their brother. She turned and looked at her elder sister, “What do you mean he’s not available?

She flinched and then wished she hadn’t when her sister’s frown deepened. “He’s, uh, he’s in the house.”

Her sister’s face momentarily blanked while she blinked and absorbed that information.

“What.”

“He’s inside, watching something, maybe playing a video game.”

And just like that the magic was broken.

The Valley melted down into their backyard, the river turned into the gravel that ran alongside the house and the lake became the giant hole they’d dug near the end of the gravel-way. The fruit trees and gooseberry bushes were still there, but closer together and the wild wheat no longer covered hills and dips, just the part of the yard at the back where it was on higher ground than the rest of the backyard.

“I thought he was going to play with us?” her sister asked as they divested themselves of their sticks (swords, daggers, staves) before entering the house through the sliding backdoor.

“He decided he wanted to have a turn on the t.v. before Mom got home from work.”

Her sister sighed, “Fine, but we’re totally going to crash his time and demand some of the popcorn he’s likely made while we were gone.”

She stopped and stared at her younger sister with wide eyes for a moment, “We have more popcorn! He didn’t tell me that!”

Her sister laughed, “Of course not, would you have told us?”

She didn’t bother trying to argue or look guilty as they raced down the stairs.


This little story was partially inspired by my childhood backyard. It was an awesome place and had lots of fruit trees and gooseberry bushes. (There used to be strawberry bushes and rhubarb, but, uh, there aren’t anymore.)

It’s amazing the magic that a child has and I wonder just where some of it goes the older we get. Maybe we need to spend more time practicing the magic we had as children once we’ve become adults to make sure we don’t lose it.

The rest of this story was inspired by the Dungeon Prompt: Our Magical Powers.

 

Broadcast the Cries – Random Reminiscence

One of the things that I believed when I was a child, that I just knew was true, was that every crying baby in the middle of church was living up in the ceiling.

You know the light fixtures and the speakers that are throughout the ceiling of any meeting house? I thought that those were rooms where mothers took their crying babies so that they could still be a part of the meeting without bothering anyone. I further thought that it was very unintelligent to leave those speaker holes underneath the rooms so that the sounds of the baby crying would be broadcast-ed so clearly throughout the meeting room.

Now I look back and laugh at myself whenever I think of that!

This little reminiscence was brought to you by Dungeon Prompt: What did you forget?

That Moment When…

That moment came at the worst. Possible. Moment.

I had been working on this project diligently for several weeks.

No.

That’s not quite right.

I’d been working on it for years. A little over a decade, in fact, when I realized just what I’d done.

It was horrifying, bewildering, truly terrible. Nights as well as days had been spent working on this manuscript that I had believed was some of my best work and I was so darn proud of the fact that I had consistently been working on not only the story itself but on the creation of the world within the story. So you can imagine my horror when I realized that one of my main characters had the kind of mood-swings that most people attribute to pregnant women in the movies and books (but that I have never actually experienced myself with my many sisters and/or friends who have been pregnant). But she was only like that with one character alone.

The character with the problems wasn’t even close to being pregnant in the story and likely never would be except maybe in some kind of epilogue.

I had to go back and redraft every single moment that had her in it.

I still look back at that and realize that if I’m going to work on any story in the middle of the night when even my cat is looking at me like I’m insane to still be up then I need to close the laptop and go do something else.

This moment in my life was remembered due to the Dungeon Prompt: That Now-I-Get-It-Moment.

Don’t Just Reach Out, Reach Back

There is nothing more painful than being alone.

You can be alone even when completely surrounded by others.

Case in point:

The halls were overflowing with the teenage and preteen humanity that is within a mid-valley junior high school. Students on the phone, reading books as they dodge other students, leaning up against lockers or running after departing friends to retrieve their jokingly stolen homework. You’re walking through the halls, head down and long hair draped over your face, hoping to avoid being noticed by anyone and anything. It’s only the second month of school, but you’re already decided that you greatly miss the elementary school that you’d hated and couldn’t wait to get out of. In elementary school the bullies didn’t shove you up against lockers every time you passed them in the halls, which happened something like ten times a day, sometimes more.

You hate it here and the only person that you know is an older sibling who you don’t really spend time with at all and don’t pass in the halls. Your classes are on the opposite sides of the schools, you never pass each other except when getting dropped off or picked up for school.

Today it changes.

Today something different happens.

Today someone, you don’t really know who she is at first, that comes later, she walks by you in the hall and smiles and says hi. You’re not sure why or what to do, so you just walk on.

Every time she sees you she does the same thing.

You start to see her more than you do the bullies and you notice that when they see her interacting with you that they’re less likely to do anything to you, so you start answering back.

You still hide behind your hair, but you don’t walk as quickly through the halls and for the first time, you’re glad that you have classes in these halls because she does too and you might have never met her if not for passing each other something like ten times a day.

Who knows what would have happened otherwise, because bullies are everywhere and in every hall, but how many halls have someone who, without even knowing it, reach out a hand with a smile and mean it.

You don’t know that she needs your returned smiles just as much. You don’t know that she was reaching the end of her own rope when someone suggested that she smile and say hello to someone she didn’t know. That they told her to have faith in another that you don’t even know because she was having trouble finding faith in others at that time. You don’t know that in reaching back to her, you were just as much a hero as she has become to you.

Friendship can begin in the most unlikely ways not only when someone reaches out, but when someone else reaches back.

Together, you can sing a duet of salvation.

This rendition was inspired to be written due to Dungeon Prompt: Redemption Song, but it is inspired by a true story.

The More Things Change…

The patterns of life vary

Live, die

Dirty, clean

Fight, negotiate

Work, play

Simple patterns that you see every day

 

She was walking along, not really paying too much attention to what was going on around her. Not that unusual in this day and age, was what she often reassured her father whenever he called, worried at the constant distractions that bombarded her life.

“I’ll be fine, Dad.”

“Sweetie, I really worry about this.”

“I know, I know, but this is just the way life is.”

“It didn’t use to be like this.”

“Dad, yes it did.”

“We weren’t checking our phones every five or ten seconds, darling.”

“Just because the distraction themselves have changed doesn’t mean that the reality of them has.”

“Well, if you’re sure…”

“I’m not pushing the wedding back any further, Dad.”

“I just don’t want you to overload yourself with school and work and now this wedding!”

She gave an exasperated sigh, “I know how to prioritize, Dad. You taught me that. I’ll be fine. You always were.”

He chuckled over the line and nodded, though she wouldn’t be able to see it, “Even when I was running around trying to find my tie and cuff-links?”

“Especially then, Dad!”


This little story was inspired by the Dungeon Prompt: Patterns. Sorry for it’s lateness!

Point of Turn

 
A point where you stand and say
That’s not who I’m going to be
Anymore…
This is who I want to be!
And then…
You do it.
 

I’d given up, to be honest.

Or, at least I’d given up mostly.

It’s a very fine line, that one, one means you’ve thrown in the towel for good while the other means that you’re just tired enough to need a break for…however long it lasts. Hopefully you’ll rest up and be able to scramble back up to your feet to try again. Just, you know, later.

It lasted for the two (and a half) years after I graduated high school before I started trying to move around and do something with my life. It was slow going, I had to work to be awake for longer and longer throughout the day and then to push those hours further and be awake during the day instead of at night. My body fought back, tried to rebel. It liked sleeping all day and doing homework or housework or whatever at night. Those were it’s natural hours after all!

(My sleep schedule is naturally delayed like that for some reason. I’m not the only person like that in my family.)

Then I worked on getting a job outside of the house.

My brother-in-law worked at a place that was hiring remote computer operators at the time and referred me there. I went in for the application and then was called back for an interview.

Keep in mind that this was a time when I was not all there and my short-term to long-term memory conversion was at an all time low. I have no idea how the interview went or even what was said during it, all I know is that I managed to get the job.

It was 7-12 in the morning. So I’d wake up at 8-ish pm, be awake during my ‘normal’ hours of the night, do my homework (online classes were heaven sent), eat lunch at 4 am-ish, go to work at 6:30 am and then work…somehow (I was actually pretty good at my job. I just trained my body to know what to do and let muscle-memory take over, wasn’t too bad) and then I’d go home at noon and sleep.

Slowly I was blessed to be able to shift my sleep cycle a little bit more every month until I was awake during more the day than the night. It was a hard thing to do and there was no way that I did it on my own. I had support, so much support and I started to feel like I could live again and not just exist during the limbo hours of the night while everyone else slept.

That was the turning point in my adult life that actually helped it to start.

This reminiscing was brought to you by the Dungeon Prompt: The Turning Point.