Well, after the trip to Los Angeles, work was/is busier than ever. We are now planning for the Fall Term and are going to offer in-person classes for the first time in over 15 months. Wow. Excited and, well, somewhat nervous. Normal, of course.
Alright, let’s take a look at some reflections on my latest writing.
Writing and Reflecting
I’ve kept to my new blogging schedule, and it feels good. I enjoy having a couple of days off, where I can simply focus on seeing what all of you inspirational people are up to and writing about. Much fun.
I do have some leadership posts in mind, and have one on Servant Leadership that is just about completed, yet, am being so drawn to writing poetry right now, I don’t see those new leadership posts being published soon. However, who knows? Maybe, they’ll find their way into a post sooner than later.
I’ve been reflecting more upon compiling a poetry book, and will start to look into this soon. I am also a part of two new Anthologies, through True Dreamster, which I am also excited about, and will have more details about in the next few weeks.
In my first post about Utmost Feelings, in last week’s A Blogger’s Diary post, Alec made a lovely comment about Astha, and asked if his sentiments could be passed along to Astha’s family.
I am glad to report this is now possible. If you are interested in sending your sentiments about Astha to Astha’s family, you will find a Google Form at the end of this post, and all of my future posts for, well, I don’t know how long. For a while anyway. Thank you for considering.
On July 10, 2019, my dad passed away. It was sudden and unexpected. I was at work when my younger sister called me and told me what was happening. When she first called, it was unclear whether he would survive the heart attack and stroke.
I learned rather quickly that, indeed, he would not. I remember being overcome with emotion, and yet, also in action. Meaning, that I immediately talked to the doctors, got clear on his condition, called and booked a plane, and was in Los Angeles within 4 hours.
When I arrived, he looked quite peaceful, and, of course, my mom and sisters were, just like I was, distraught, confused, and full of sadness. My dad’s soul left his body that evening.
On this father’s day, I am reminded of all the times my dad was there for me, supported me, encouraged me, and, in his way, loved me deeply, as he did my mother, sisters, and all of his grandkids.
I love and miss you dad.
I am also reflecting upon being a father, and how lucky I am to be the father of two beautiful young men. I am so lucky, and I love them more than these words could possibly convey.
I hope you all have a wonderful Father’s Day.
Sending you all love and blessings on a wonderful week.
Utmost Feelings – Coming Soon!
If you’ve not yet checked outAstha’s Anthology,Utmost Feelings, please check it out when you have a chance, and share as you are able. Thank you.
Additionally, the coauthors of Astha’s Anthology, Utmost Feelings, are creating a space for people to send their sentiments to Astha’s family.
If you are interested, please add your sentiments tothis form, thank you, and stay blessed.
On December 3, 2020, I wrote and posted the poem, Becoming, and then about a week ago I wrote another poem, yep, you guessed it, also called Becoming. I’m sure this has happened to you, and it has for me too; yet, this time, I wanted to post the second poem as it is, title and all.
In a way, I think it is perfectly appropriate for this past year. A time of struggle, death, and extreme hardship in so many different ways; and a time of hope, life, and extreme gratitude. I am holding these concepts with you, and the space inbetween, as I present this second poem on becoming.
As I sit and ponder, and also wonder, and, yes, sometimes feel flustered with the emotions coming, all the while I know I’m becoming.
Something different each day, while sitting in the midst of the presence of the thinking and never ending feelings.
It’s hard as the tears come, sometimes it’s a trickle and not a flood. While at other times, the flood would feel like a respite, with the tsunami of tears pouring forth.
Sometimes it’s a song, or a quick flash of a not so distant past. It feels, moves, and pushes the limits of the pain I think is possible to bear, and then just when I think subside is in stride, I break again.
Darkness envelops me, and I bend over the pain pulling me towards the floor, where at times I feel like I’ll learn more.
Just lay there and be, and let the emotions wash over me. One wave and then the next, they pass through, and time becomes something extraordinary.
And, yet, my dear, just like you, they stop coming, all the while there’s still more incoming. I pick myself up, wash my face, and look at the person staring back through the picture of my mirrored life forthcoming.
He wears a smile with swollen eyes, face damp with the salted tears of years of trying. Yet, deep down he knows, while trying is a piece of the whole, it’s in the doing where the scattered fragments become one, as we march towards our continual becoming.