An Eighth Shot of Espresso: Coffee and Creativity on Mum's Third Shift

Bathe in a bright moonbeam feel the forest all around  the power of pristine perfection  the peace of a profound soul.  Look up into the light show the hidden halves within the truth tells the tale all the lies soon lie bare. See the stark reminder  of fate that fuels the universe  the goddess grants a lovely boon  that sends shadows through the night

Optimists say a new day a new opportunity yesterday might not have been great but it's a new beginning to make life better. Pessimists say it's grey and raining you can certainly try but the effort is wasted why do you even bother you will fail in every single attempt. Realists say dreams are good but you have to be sensible the glass is not half full or half empty it is just there it's what you do with it. Cynics say it's who you know not what you know Money talks Popularity talks You can only get ahead by compromising your soul.

I have to believe that all of this is worth it. I have to have faith that events happen for a reason. That every decision you make splits the universe into realities. In the dimension next door I am happy content healthy. All the time that I spend improving my lot here influences whatever branches are connected there. All the trials and the heartaches the disappointments the abject sadness are stepping stones to a brighter future not just here but through the universe. The beacon brightens here and elsewhere. And when I die I see how my decisions no matter how minor affects so much unseen.

 It was written in the margins: Hic Sunt Dracones Here be dragons a tiny sketch of a sea serpent curled up to strike at unsuspecting sailors on a voyage of discovery. Unknown territory uncharted Who knows what may lie beyond the borders of the world? The danger, the excitement to go boldly there and to come back with stories to tell with riches to show with knowledge to share. The spirit of pushing the borders and bringing the mysterious into the light of day. Prove it can be done the risks are worth it even if the maw of the dragon gapes wide on the horizon. Step out of the comfort zone and perhaps find what you have been seeking all this time.

When inspiration hits an instant realization of a budding idea you need to capture it before it floats away to be lost in the ether forever. It can be a simple thing a good thought a bland one a basic one just write it down give it form and substance. You might not look at it for hours or days or months forget that it's there but one day you stumble over it again. And perhaps it's the perfect solution to the problem you currently have and it's serendipity but also planned at the same time.

It's so poetic history repeats itself no lessons are learned. The very same mistakes are made Time's judgments are forgotten. "This cannot happen We are better than this. The past will stay there This is a brand new future and we have changed and evolved." But the more things change and the more things stay the same People are people with all their glorious flaws and all of their true courage. Strife and hardship comes challenging the status quo justice miscarried establishment needs power to enforce the old thinking. Only much later when history unfurls and the results come will we see who is right and who is on the wrong side.  

Mend a broken heart Sew it up with needle and thread a broken life with sticks and glue even if you use the latest technology employ the best techniques some scars will remain dug deep into its core: the soul remembers. Mend a broken soul Glue it piece by piece a broken hope with needle and thread even if you bind them together use the pins and needles some cracks with remain dug deep into the crevice: the heart remembers.

8,724:  the distance in miles between the Philippines and the Eastern coast of the US 28,470: the number of days in 78 years 4000: the distance in miles between London, UK and North Carolina 18,262: the number of days in 50 years Mother Eight thousand seven hundred and twenty four That is how many miles from beginning to end. Where the story starts to where it finally ends. From one land to another to one culture to the next Quite a journey is it not? Twenty eight thousand four hundred and seventy That is how many days from beginning to end Where the tale will start and it still keeps going. From one moment to another to one adventure to the next It's an epic is it not? Daughter Four thousand That is how many miles from beginning to now. A home I've never known to an abode I've always been My heart still yearns for what could have, should have It's a tragedy, is it not? Eighteen thousand two hundred and sixty two That is how many days from beginning to end When the saga...

That feeling that everything is going the way you want it. Life runs smoothly events happen as planned. Synchronicity One event leads to another go with the flow No need to think at one with the universe that rare rare sensation of being at the right place at the right time signposts that assure you that you are on the right path. Your footsteps are sure in the correct direction heading towards the finish line. Sometimes the road curves in a different direction from what you expected and it leads into the underbrush of doubt and despair. You check your compass over and over but trust in the process it will not let you astray. Then at the end it will all make sense.

Bursting with flavor biting into a juicy orange a ripe apple a beautiful pomegranate it explodes onto the tongue and sends ecstasy to your brain reminds you of the time of complete nirvana one with the universe The cliche is trite and overused, overworked but since it happens so rarely how else do you describe it in any other words that don't sound flowery and trite? The dictionary doesn't help and sometimes simple is better even if it causes so many groans of disgust and the rolling of eyes into their heads.

  "Each garden is a grave" (after Richard Howard , prompt from The Writer's Retreat Kit by Judy Reeves ) Each garden is a grave life's decay enriches the very soil under your feet. Leaves crumple to the ground as the autumn winds blow the world above lies in slumber. Underneath the seeds are dormant in the arms of darkness They sleep the temperature dips far below what life demands. Some take their last breath and their blanket is cold icy earth. But it doesn't last forever. Before long new life springs forth from the old awakens and stretches out arms to the sun. And shines in all its glory the warm rays bathes it with their favor. Short and fleeting Till Nature's cycle runs its course. Till arms grow heavy and droop beautiful colors fade roots wither and die petals scatter like insects to nourish the dark loam that will harbor the next generation at the very same place the very same time. Over and over over again.

 Prompt: "Down to the deepest depths I peered" (after The Poetic EddaI, prompt from The Writer's Retreat Kit by Judy Reeves ) The Poetic Edda is a collection of alliterative verse based on Old Norse and Germanic legends. There are several versions of the collection.) Down to the deepest depths I peered to see a silver sun instead filled with fronds of falling leaves red and rose and rapture green. A passion seen in purple prose darkening to deep desire the ballad of a brazen bard sweet song of sentimental stone The tone can tell a troubled tale from fiery cave to freezing falls terrible trials and trying times a victory in vicious verse. Peace will have a precious price Coveting a cache of coin Silencing secrets out of sight for freedom, fame and fortune. What's the worth of such a weight a conscience cracked and charred so cruel? Steeped in sin but still so soft History will have her hand.

(Prompt: "Comfort Me with Apples", quote from The Song of Solomon, 2:5, King James Version , prompt from The Writer's Retreat Kit by Judy Reeves ) Comfort me with apples the smell of freshly baked pie wafting through the kitchen window on the first days of autumn. The feeling of home of the love of family and of friends brought together under a banner of falling leaves. Apple tarts picked ripe from the tree from branch to oven in a moment Dough rolled out by a loving hand sprinkled with spices. Tempt me with the sweetness fork with every bite rich and full with the hint of tartness beneath. The laughter of my brethren echoes across the mountains and hills seeing the young and the old together I am content.

Prompt: "Poetry roots itself in the dreamer" (quote from Judy Michaels , prompt from The Writer's Retreat Kit by Judy Reeves ) Poetry roots itself in the dreamer Words bubble to the top like a glass of lazy seltzer water. The bubbles burst and release their voice quiet and brief. You have to listen carefully catch it in the right moment then write it for posterity. Sometimes it doesn't show itself in the bright sun of the day.. It sneaks around at the dead of night when your eyes are closed and your consciousness travels to other inner worlds. That's where it takes hold. The river of words which arrives, then stays there waiting to be discovered hidden until the right time the right place for it to crash forth to be heard.

(6 Greek, 5 Hindu, 2 Japanese, 2 Chinese...and 1 English) There are sixteen words for love: 1) Agape , unconditional with no if, and, or but my goodwill towards all 2) Eros , physical purely an appreciation of the body with the soul. 3) Philia , brotherly love affectionate regard friendship 4) Storge , parental from a mother or a father to a child. 5) Philautia , to oneself concerned with one's own happiness or advantage 6) Xenia , hospitality welcome to my house mi casa e tu casa. 7) Kama , longing craving for the senses pleasure of all kinds 8) Shringara , rapture emotional bonding the giddiness of your presence 9) Maitri , compassion giving love in so many little ways food, comfort, kindness 10) Bkhati , devotion praying to your Deity day after day for peace 11) Atma-Prema , love for self we are all one, there is no distinction, no difference 12) Kachou Fuugetsu , love of nature feel the wind in the trees, the heat of the sun and get to know yourself 13) Koi no Yokan , love a...

If all you look at are numbers statistics popularity you can be primed for disappointment. Four views three of those blogs promoting crypto and AI. Negativity and drama fueling clicks and arguments. Pandering to an audience hungry for content. Bad news generate revenue good news generate grumbling "this never happened. give me proof it did". Bite sized chunks for a ant sized attention span. Flashy music and graphics fake smiles and outrage hollow laughter covers unease. Desensitized to the horrors that life can unleash. "It could be worse" backseat analysts pass judgment. The hidden gems are buried in the dross: you have to make the effort to find them. If you want to open your mind and your heart and lift your spirits defy the algorithm.

The randomness of it all: teddy bears, smiley faces and the faces of customers sitting in the diner Quick pen strokes capturing the weariness the cheerfulness the hustle and bustle of servers coming and going from the kitchens shouting "corner!" to prevent collisions and the chatter of the old style cash register. Tiny pictures crammed into every available space a capture of a time when all eyes are turned away but a snapshot of the moment still exists.

Prompt: A World without Music (from The Writer's Retreat Kit by Judy Reeves ) It was strange, to move about with absolutely no sound. No birdsong, no rustle of leaves in the trees, no soft footfall in your wake. A world of complete, utter silence. Yes, every color was perfectly balanced to the eye. The feel of silk as it whispered across your skin. The tart sweetness of a newly peeled orange on your tongue.The smell of roses and wintergreen and the aroma of a homecooked meal. Yet something feels off, not quite right. Although everything else in this world is perfect, it is not perfect. There is something missing, something quite important. The world is bathed in perpetual quiet, and it's unnerving.  

  The candle burns brightly from both ends as the storm quiets down the flames flicker as they slowly reach towards each other not at the same speed or at the same intensity. The wick that runs through slowly and inevitably brings them together it may take days weeks months years as wax sizzles and drips onto the floor and freeze into all sorts of shapes out of view and forgotten. Will they finally meet or will one burn out before they can immolate each other?

 More #vss365 responses in haiku and tanka. Prompt words are marked with # #greed not just for funds time, affection, attention it's never enough #rats scurry around wondering at the wide wide world through their simple eyes. Today I ran my fingers along the edge of the kitchen knife. I had to come face to face with all possibilities. What am I to you? #Chopped liver, fancy but bad? Parade me around serve me on silver platters, but you can't live without me. Colors on my #brush pastels, the color of spring sunny storms abound. A contradiction: approval is so #fluid one day it is good the next, according to whim withdrawn because of reasons. So day after day I #muster the energy to face all of it. Old wise matriarch she always kept the peace and held it together the #glue who oversaw all that fell apart at her loss. The leading questions #probing for what I do know what you keep hidden. #Cathartic feeling when someone confirms to you that you aren't nuts that ...