Inspiration Collage: For a Special Someone

“Rise above it” Fine Art Print by Amanda Cass

Dedicated to that special Someone: I hope this has spread some sunshine for you and that you know  there are many who are always here for you.

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All these posts are taken from Pinterest, which unfortunately does not always have the best cited sources. For those that do not recognize his style, the poem on the left is written by Shel Silverstein, one of my favourite authors in elementary school. The new genre of combining images and quotes is a great way to inspire and would be fun to create, I imagine. I love collecting so I can read through them in low times.

Life can be tough, and comfort can be found in this medium. Hope some of these resonated with you the way they did to me.

Thanks for reading,
thebookybunhead

Erasure (NaPoWriMo #26)

Original poem by Robert Frost:
Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;
Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim,
Because it was grassy and wanted wear;
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same,
And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back.
I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I-
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.

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I definitely need more practice before being able to use this method to create poetry. Great on the abstract side and ambiguous on the conceptual side, it was quite fun. And this is a great poem – I know because I didn’t mind reading it in school – to take chances, make mistakes, and get messy! (Recognize the reference to a certain educational childhood show?)Thanks for reading,
thebookybunhead

 

Ballad of a Phoenix (NaPoWriMo #25)

there was a phoenix young and bright
feathers shine engulfed in flame
it sparkles gold in dawn of light
waiting to be bestowed a name

take these wings and fly to the sea
i will be here when you return to me

i have a phoenix brisk and bright
blinding in rash or angry flame
proud but afraid of its intense light
wild in spirit, but in heart still tame

with those wings fly as far as the sea
don’t forget, here waiting, is me

my phoenix no longer brilliantly bright
burning slowly a serene flame
secrets of time beneath comforting light
powerful creature just the same

the wings have traversed more than one single sea
rest your tired limbs on me

i had a phoenix, in sight and mind bright
who one day extinguished its flame
vanish to leave only embers of light
darkness fell and the night came

from ashes emerges a song from the sea
those glowing wings remember me

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My attempt at a story through a ballad with an ABAB rhyme scheme. I have always loved phoenixes, beautiful, powerful, and able to be reborn from their ashes. Human life is linear, but there are physical and emotional cycles within it. One lyric resembles that of the Beatles’ song “Blackbird” in “take these broken wings and learn to fly” because I love this song and the image of flight it creates. I have associated loyalty with these magical creatures since reading about Fawkes, Dumbledore’s pet phoenix in the Harry Potter series, so that’s where that attribute came from. Who knows, maybe one day I’ll write a tune for it. Or not.

Thanks for reading,
thebookybunhead

Image source: http://wiki.godvillegame.com/File:Phoenix.jpg

Take the pencil (NaPoWriMo #20)

(From quotesnsayings.net)

Like a cyclops wearing an eye patch, we’ve never been able since our birth
To know what has been printed on life’s next chapter
Like a pig snuffling truffle treasure buried deep under the earth
Detectives searching for clues hinting a happily-ever-after

Like a grain of salt in a spoon of sugar, how every choice will affect
Our daily cup of tea or coffee, is an elusive mystery until
The present is a ghost, we watch curled up on the couch to reconnect
Reading the miraculous events recorded from our will

Like holes in swiss cheese, what makes or breaks an ego
Can be answered twice by what we do or what we don’t
Identity as fluid as seaweed in waves, hidden in the gutter – no.
Wait anxiously for the turn of each page? I won’t.

I will be the generator of my own word.
And my story will be heard.

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Life is too short for waiting so take that pencil and write! Fill the blank pages with the future you’ve always dreamed about, because you are the only author of your personal book of life.

Thanks for reading,
thebookybunhead

A High of Twenty-Two (NaPoWriMo #18)

What I felt like as I stepped out into unexpectedly gorgeous spring weather.

Today

was a thunderstorm with a high of twenty-two.
Stretching in a studio anticipating
the song of raindrops to slide down glass walls.

They were right about the high of twenty-two,
But yellow light streamed inside instead,
Too bright we reluctantly put down the blinds.

In a building you can’t feel a high of twenty-two,
A little walk to the store to buy pairs of pointe shoes
For rehearsals that stretch further than sunshine.

At day’s end hoped it’d still be a dry, high of twenty-two,
Sigh of relief stepping out into fresh air
Body had been programmed to seize up for winter’s chill.

Skin finally sees the sun again, in a high of twenty-two,
Cool breezes aerate fibres of clothing
While the clouds are patiently waiting.

Thank you Mr. Weatherman for reporting the good news,
But it’s nature who let us have a  a high of twenty-two

Today.

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Spring weather makes me so excited for summer and spending time outside. April showers bring May flowers, so pour on, rains of Toronto, because I can’t wait to see green on the trees like the grass. It looks like we’ll be rotating around our seasonal wardrobes very soon…

Thanks for reading,
thebookybunhead

Bittersweet Nostalgia (NaPoWriMo #12)

At a best friend’s cottage.

I miss you.
But I don’t know
If it’s you,
Or the you I knew years, or even months, before.
You’ve changed.
Or maybe I’ve changed.
Or both of us have since taking our own risks and choices.
We said we’d keep in touch, but did we?
Every time I see you
A flood of memories flash before my eyes
And then I’m not sure if I’m really seeing you
And I wonder if you get this confused vision too.
Time has a funny way of dividing reality and memory.
Conversations, jokes, games, plain old sitting at the table,
I remember.
I know you do too,
Because best friends don’t forget that stuff.
Time moves on but we talk of past moments,
Precious but irrelevant to the stories we each write now.
Time has a funny way of dividing people sometimes.
I can see my nostalgic sadness reflected in your eyes.
And somehow our goodbyes
Are never-ending.
Because forever can last forever in your mind.
Until we meet again,
I just wanted to say that
I miss you.

“I would rather walk with a friend in the dark, than alone in the light.”
-Helen Keller

*UPDATE: A few weeks after writing this post, I ran into my friend at a ballet awards show. It was a thrilling surprise and we got caught up for a few good hours. Funny how life can offer you the best coincidences… *

Thanks for reading,
thebookybunhead

Hesitant Haircut (NaPoWriMo #6a)

Courtesy of Victoria English Charm

Braided ladder, thick as rope,
Draped over back or shoulder
Falling freely, a lustrous slope
Bouncy in a pony holder

Coiled and twisted in a bun
Pinned and hairsprayed into place
Tangled flag behind a run
Frames or hides or whips my face
Accidental catcher of crumbs and snow
Years and years shampooed, brushed, grew

Steady, scissors, make no haste
To clear this curtain past my waist
Sentimental regret, but it’s time you go
Kind of exciting

Snip, snip.
It’s gone.
Just like that?
Boo hoo.

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I will cut my hair one of these days, and it will feel like this.

Thanks for reading,
thebookybunhead

Big Blue: A poem

Blue Morpho taken by Gregory Philips from http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:Blue_morpho_butterfly.jpg

The Big Blue is in front of me
Most beautiful species I ever did see
I grip the net tightly between my hands
Homemade and woven by  individual strands
From generations collected of silkworm line
I step cautiously, keep quiet focus in mind
Raise the net high, ready for a swift sweep…
And stop.
Watching the butterfly sway.
Take off in a flutter, into the clear sky
I let it fly away,
And wave an imaginary goodbye.

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“I realise there’s something incredibly honest about trees in winter, how they’re experts at letting things go.” ― Jeffrey McDaniel

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Just for fun footnote: The name of the poem comes one of my favourite childhood shows, Arthur. In an episode entitled “Binky Barnes, Wingman”, Binky becomes obsessed with butterflies and vows to catch one he calls “Big Blue”, who always escapes, satirizing the scenario of Captain Ahab and Moby Dick.

Thanks for reading,
thebookybunhead

“Books are no more threatened by Kindle than stairs by elevators.” ― Stephen Fry

Cartoon by The Persichetti Brothers

It is fair to say that the population of VHS’s, floppy disks, pagers, and Tamagotchis have dwindled due to their new and improved counterparts – will the same happen to our beloved books?

OR     ?

Popularity of the e-book has soared over the past year as readers find the sleek appearance and convenience benefits of the product highly appealing. The e-book is light and portable with a virtual database that can contain many more books than one could imagine carrying from the library. With this single surfaces tablet, many books can be read with the swipe of a finger. No slipping bookmarks, heavy loads, risks of paper cuts, or yellowing, stained pages – pretty neat, I must admit.

Already with the advances of technology in all aspects of communication and media, printing industries have suffered losses and are buckling down for the onslaught of superior smartphones and computers with their apps and internet resources. But, despite, all this, the good ol’ sheet and glue books maintain their influence in society. Just like digital notes can never replace hand-written pencil and paper ones, looking at words on a screen is just not the same. I guess it’s all about the senses…

Having each printed word in a slab of a book feels like having a world in the palm of your hand. The whole idea, concept, story created just for you from the author just able to sit on your lap. You’re not just looking at a single page, but hundreds packed to form this compact, spacially efficient block – the WHOLE COMPLETE work, not just a little piece at a time.

Cartoon by Jim Whiting

There’s nothing like moving your fingers across the pages or rifling quickly through them feeling a breeze in your face. The words are concrete and real, and so are the sheets on which they have been stamped. Each page turn is an exciting exercise as a flipping noise reveals another man behind the curtain.

The feeling of accomplishment when you get into a good read and you can see how many pages you’ve conquered and how far you have til the end. For peekers, being able to flip forward and skim the text that lies ahead just to make sure your favourite character doesn’t die. For sticklers, being able to scratch out that extra apostrophe or write in a missing letter to right the text with your own hand. I just love the idea of tracing your history with a book through all its individual pages. And the satisfaction of looking at the shelves and shelves of books you’ve collected over the years…

Cartoon by Jeffery Koterba for the Omaha World Herald

And who can deny that a book read often reflects a sentimental loyalty – yes, I’m basically trying to explain a love affair with your favourite novel. With turned up corners, faded covers, or dog ears, there’s something special about that book you’ve had for so long and almost know by heart and the battle scars it received to survive in your bag, inner jacket pocket, hands, or the wild outdoors. The wear and tear of a book shows that it’s been loved and is loved – it is valuable. The wrinkles and dents, the smell of aging paper, symbolize a friendship that does not show on a screen.

So I am biased, but I think the novelty of ink words on pulp-pressed pages compiled into something that you can see and feel in its entirety will never wear off. Old school books are for me, the real deal.

Cartoon by Sylvia Liu

I wrote the former words in August 2012, and since then have gained more appreciation for e-books. They have really opened a new world for self-publishing and save lots of money on production costs, making books more affordable. I never liked how technology continues to take over our lives, but a portable library is cool. The digital aspect saves trees too, now that I think about it. And so, in the same view as the quote which I used for the title, I would like to own an e-reader, but I love my printed library too; books will always be treasured, no matter what form they take.

Thanks for reading,
thebookybunhead

Homo Religiosis: Hunting rituals and religion

In the Paleolithic age, a young boy is transformed into adulthood overnight through a terrifying process in the underground tunnels of Lascaux. Through fear, isolation, and the use of images, the experience allows him to recognize his powers and comprehend his purpose in life. He must face frightening ordeals such as traveling through a cramped tunnel in total darkness, being incarcerated and buried in the earth, and told that he would be eaten by a monster. The terror he experiences forces him to discover the inner strengths and resources that he was unaware existed within. Completely alone, he becomes conscious of his being and gains an understanding of life and death. Being stripped from everything familiar he knew above ground, he finds independence, and “is pushed into a new state of consciousness that enables him to appreciate the profound bonds that links hunter and prey in their common struggle for survival.” When the images of the cave are revealed, the boy is enlightened, both literally and spiritually; the artwork triggers timeless human emotions and thoughts that complete his initiation. The experience a young initiate undergoes gives him new knowledge, changing him into a man that is ready to hunt with sacred respect and sacrifice himself for his people.

Our religious experiences today are different because of our changing culture and needs. Our way of life has changed dramatically, and so has our society’s relationship to religion. The hunt sustained the ancient peoples, and so, to value and respect life was an essential part of their spiritual being. Today our world is sustained by money and production; our concerns no longer revolve around survival, but focus on consumerism. Our emotional response to the killing of animals and death are indifferent because we do not have understanding of those subjects on a personal level. The hunting rituals have lost their power in meaning because they are irrelevant to our cares and culture. The personal ties that the ancient peoples had in their respect for nature we now have for our technology and communication devices. An adolescent needs time to “find himself” today amongst the many choices and distractions around him, rather than “going into the tunnel” and searching for answers within. In our very busy world, personal reflection is difficult to experience and our identities are created, and our values dictated, by the technology and images around us. Primarily, religion has diminished because its importance to our being has been replaced by the many things that we can buy.

At the time, I did not realize that Homo Religiosis is a theory, not an essay, so if I find the work that this was inspired by or you happen to recognize it, please comment or link. This was written in 2011, and interestingly, after completely forgetting about it, I realize the content of a biology essay I wrote this year is very similar. My ideas have changed and developed since and I think it might be interesting to compare the two, so the other may be published in the future…

Thanks for reading,
-thebookybunhead