tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14146765890014153762024-03-13T08:48:35.974-04:00Leaving A TracePutting my thoughts down on paper, helps me figure out how I feel and this has helped me make meaningful changes in my life. The written word exposes our deepest desires and our greatest fears. It enables us to see things with clarity, so that we may continue on our way. Everyone can
realize this, simple by leaving a trace.
Helena ~.^Helena Whitehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03022290127423654311noreply@blogger.comBlogger25125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1414676589001415376.post-56112731645487427162014-06-27T23:13:00.001-04:002014-06-27T23:27:39.170-04:00<br />
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I am now using this blog for my Family History/Ancestry. New post soon. <img src="http://i602.photobucket.com/albums/tt108/valentinestudio123/Client%20Blog%20Design/Signatures/LeavingATraceSig.png" style="background: none repeat scroll 0% 0% transparent; border: medium none;" /></div>
Helena Whitehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03022290127423654311noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1414676589001415376.post-9740419045377516672011-09-10T13:09:00.000-04:002012-10-26T21:12:13.356-04:00Forget-Me-Not-Fall<div align="center">
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<span style="font-family: Carmine Tango; font-size: x-large;">Early morning bird songs change according to the season. <br />
On these last days of summer, the crows take the stage. <br />
They caw with such enthusiasm, announcing that <br />
autumn is returning once again. <br />
Today the air is close, filled with humidity <br />
~ the aftermath of recent storms. <br />
A subtle breeze stirs the stale, close air. <br />
This quiet stillness of morning is interrupted by <br />
Canadian geese flying overhead ~ <br />
Their honking is loud, overpowering the crows call. <br />
Autumn, my favourite season with its vivid colours <br />
that are so intoxicating, yet nevertheless bittersweet. <br />
No other season causes me to look back, nor makes me <br />
more nostalgic or fills me with such an intuitive sense of <br />
longing for the past, than autumn. <br />
Blazing fall colours awaken long-forgotten, heartfelt memories. <br />
Emotional recollections are stirred up and rustle like leaves <br />
that are gathered in neat little piles. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Carmine Tango; font-size: x-large;">Even with all that fall brings to light, I still look forward to the days that are brighter than the balmiest days of summer, when the sun’s sultry glow charms the fringe of the world. <br />
Sinking in a red glow, the warm inviting sun reflects the bright jewels of autumn. Therefore, I must learn to honour my soul the freedom to savour the views of gilded gold's, rustic reds and outrageous oranges that are scattered across our fall landscape. To once again allow myself the joy of autumn evenings,which bring on brisk air ~ turning leaves and a larger-than-life setting sun that is still radiant beneath the horizon.</span></div>
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Helena Whitehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03022290127423654311noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1414676589001415376.post-29419868869929178762011-07-15T14:39:00.000-04:002014-07-06T15:14:08.042-04:00White’s Haven ♥ Front Gardens<div style="text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-family: ck_artisan; font-size: large;">It's Summertime and the </span><span style="font-family: ck_artisan; font-size: large;">Living is easy… </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: ck_artisan; font-size: large;">It’s more like; </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: ck_artisan; font-size: large;">It's Summertime and the living is busy! </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: ck_artisan; font-size: large;">Thought I would share </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: ck_artisan; font-size: large;">some of my pics of our front gardens…</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: ck_artisan; font-size: large;">Summertime is meant for enjoying</span><span style="font-family: ck_artisan; font-size: large;"> </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: ck_artisan; font-size: large;">and that means </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: ck_artisan; font-size: large;">being outside as much as possible.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: ck_artisan; font-size: large;">Take a Stroll through my garden.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: ck_artisan; font-size: large;">I Love Hydrangeas and Roses Together</span> </div>
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<span style="font-family: ck_artisan; font-size: medium;"><span style="font-size: large;">Carpet Roses, one of my favourites </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: ck_artisan; font-size: large;">White Carpet Roses</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: ck_artisan; font-size: large;">Lavender Delphiniums</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: ck_artisan; font-size: large;">We can’t ever forget</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: ck_artisan; font-size: large;">My Fur Kid, Topaz</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: ck_artisan; font-size: large;">I hope y</span><span style="font-family: ck_artisan; font-size: large;">ou enjoyed your walk through my garden</span></div>
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<span style="color: magenta; font-size: large;"><span style="color: #741b47;">♥</span> </span><span style="font-family: ck_artisan; font-size: large;">Thanks for stopping by!</span></div>
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Helena Whitehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03022290127423654311noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1414676589001415376.post-13365284101058240532011-07-07T21:50:00.001-04:002014-07-06T15:41:30.816-04:00Morning<div align="center">
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My morning tea always</div>
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tastes better by candlelight</div>
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Alone in a room of my own</div>
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aware of the stillness that surrounds me</div>
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There is something about a lit candle</div>
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that makes a room come alive</div>
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All my senses become heightened</div>
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Wanderlust imaginings fill my mind</div>
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The candle flickers with hypnotic light</div>
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inviting buoyant energy </div>
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to share this esoteric space</div>
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as we merge into </div>
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secluded stillness</div>
<a href="http://www.blogger.com/post-edit.g?blogID=1414676589001415376&postID=853497420502514805"><img src="http://i602.photobucket.com/albums/tt108/valentinestudio123/Client%20Blog%20Design/Signatures/LeavingATraceSig.png" style="display: block; float: none; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" /></a>Helena Whitehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03022290127423654311noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1414676589001415376.post-40188822136167032952011-06-20T19:56:00.004-04:002014-07-06T15:49:02.526-04:00Embroidery<div style="text-align: center;">
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<span style="color: #408080; font-family: Curlz MT;"><b>stitch*blanket*binding*bullion*lazy*daisy*satin*stitch*cross*stitch*French*knot</b></span></div>
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<span style="color: #800040; font-family: ParkAveD; font-size: x-large;"><b>The imaginings of artistic talent is inspiring and hard to resist no matter what form it takes. </b></span><br />
<span style="color: #800040; font-family: ParkAveD; font-size: x-large;"><b>Creativity manifests as if by magic… </b></span><br />
<span style="color: #800040; font-family: ParkAveD; font-size: x-large;"><b>something from nothing…</b></span></div>
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It’s not just poetry that manifests as if by magic. There are many art forms. Embroidery happens to be one that is my bliss…I was taught the art of embroidery as a small child by my Mother. I remember my first piece as if it were yesterday, a pre-made pot holder with a stamp of a Rooster on it. I choose the colors black and red for my creation. I recall stitching big awkward stitches while learning and then wondered, what happened? Ha! I must say, it took me awhile to learn the lesson of patience. My husband says that I am still learning that lesson. I remember thinking, embroidery isn’t as fast as colouring. My Mom’s voice still echoes in my head…"the smaller the stitch, the neater your work” Now I understand why the next piece she gave me was cross stitch. Despite my impatience, I persevered and continued to stitch with enthusiasm. In a very short time I came to love embroidery. I soon had my own hoop, needles, threads and of course we can’t forget the tiny scissors. To this day I still prefer to use my little vintage hoop which belonged to my Grandmother. After many years and numerous projects, I finally have mastered the smallest of stitches.</div>
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You won’t always find traditional colours in my embroidery, no colour choices which are typically expected. I tend to have an outside the box approach for my needlework art. “Who says you can’t have an orange daisy with a purple center”. I embroider much the same way that I use to colour as a child, with a free spirited whimsy-like mischievous outlook, which I continue to draw on for inspiration today. “Purple puppies, blue bunnies, aqua peonies,…why not?”. I guess you could best describe my embroidery style much like that of a kaleidoscope. The effect is much like a pansy…<span style="font-family: ParkAveD;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b>ah the pansy my muse</b>!</span></span> This multi-coloured tough little perfectly delicate flower understands the mischievous diverseness of nature.</div>
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I love to embroider so much, that I have completed many, many samples with no particular agenda or plan as to how to use them. My imagination stirs and I picture one of a kind keepsakes, such as cushions, bags, purses or stuffed animals. While embroidering I get lost in bliss. It serves as a form of meditation and now that summer has arrived, I will be out on my front porch sipping lemonade, sewing the smallest of stitches, all while creating something from nothing, <span style="color: #408080; font-family: Curlz MT;"><b> </b></span></div>
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<span style="color: #990000; font-family: ParkAveD; font-size: large;">Red Work</span><br />
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<span style="color: #800040; font-family: ParkAveD; font-size: x-large;"><b> something from nothing…</b></span></div>
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<span style="color: #408080; font-family: Curlz MT;"><b>stitch*blanket*binding*bullion*lazy*daisy*satin*stitch*cross*stitch*French*knot</b></span></div>
Helena Whitehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03022290127423654311noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1414676589001415376.post-2105577416533555132011-06-11T10:10:00.006-04:002014-07-06T16:43:46.108-04:00Twice As Nice<div align="center">
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<span style="color: purple;"> Best Friend</span></div>
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A poem written by Hallie (9)<br />
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Snugly cute friend, </div>
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a great TEDDY BEAR </div>
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is always wear you leave it,</div>
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It’s there to help, </div>
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its there to play</div>
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and sleep with you</div>
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It’s a great listener too...</div>
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Some kids say a teddy bear </div>
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Is their BEST FRIEND!</div>
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~ི♥ྀ ~ʚįɞ~ི♥ྀ ~ʚįɞ~ི♥ྀ ~ʚįɞ~ི♥ྀ ~ʚįɞ</div>
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Little Fairy</div>
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A poem by Emilie (9)<br />
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One little fairy</div>
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was gracefully flying in the sky</div>
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She went to every garden </div>
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leaving a surprise</div>
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In the morning people woke up</div>
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and checked there gardens</div>
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to find them sparkling beautifully...</div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia,'Times New Roman',serif;"><span style="color: #111111; font-family: Georgia; font-size: 11.5pt;"><span style="color: #38761d; font-size: x-small;">My beautiful granddaughters trying their hand at poetry.</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia,'Times New Roman',serif;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">Posted for <a href="http://onestoppoetry.com/2011/06/friday-poetically-with-brian-miller-17.html">Friday Poetically</a> with Brian Miller, who asked that we share</span></span></span></div>
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Helena Whitehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03022290127423654311noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1414676589001415376.post-86021902616093106962011-06-06T23:46:00.011-04:002014-07-06T15:47:30.106-04:00Farewell<div align="center">
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The news harrowed my very soul </div>
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They cut deep exposing unforeseen anguish</div>
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My heavy heart weeps for thy</div>
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Grieved to lose such a special friend</div>
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The sting of death breaks us open</div>
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Exposing our hearts to bleed</div>
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Bereft of the fullness of time</div>
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My thoughts are seized by the hereafter</div>
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My imaginings are held captive, unable to flee</div>
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I will not say goodbye my friend</div>
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Instead, I will bid you an emotional farewell</div>
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<span style="font-family: Carmine Tango;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">My heart is heavy this evening…My 2nd cousin Jacqueline Sleeper Russell passed away on May 30th, 2011 I will be forever grateful to Jacki for sharing all of her wonderful research on our Family Tree.</span> <br />
<span style="font-weight: normal;">If it weren’t for meeting Jacki, I would never of known about my Great, Great Grandfather being an author and poet. I am so thankful for Jacki coming into my life…She will be missed. </span></span></span></h6>
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<span style="font-family: Carmine Tango; font-size: medium;">Dearest Jacki</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Carmine Tango; font-size: medium;">Thankyou ...How can such a small word ever say what I want it to mean. <br />
I will be forever grateful to you and I will always treasure our friendship.There really aren’t any words to convey how much I appreciate your coming into my life…I believe it was meant to be…. <br />
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<span style="font-family: Carmine Tango; font-size: medium;">"Roots made us cousins...Hearts made us friends</span>"</div>
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<span style="font-family: Carmine Tango; font-size: medium;">Love</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Carmine Tango; font-size: medium;">Your Cousin</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Carmine Tango; font-size: medium;">Helena </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Carmine Tango; font-size: medium;"> </span>Helena Whitehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03022290127423654311noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1414676589001415376.post-8534974205025148052011-05-14T10:41:00.017-04:002011-06-01T00:19:13.269-04:00♥ Serendipitous Find ♥<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div align="center" style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></div><div align="center" style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;"> I love to frequent antique barns, </span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;">you know the ones that are jam packed </span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;">full like a treasure trove from long ago. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;">All those past treasures, usually evoke so many memories, </span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;">sometimes with melancholy attached. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;">I’m not one of those collectors who have </span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;">100 clocks or 50 egg cups. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;">I consider myself to be an emotional collector, one who discovers </span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;">a serendipitous connection, where the unexpected find creates </span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;">happiness and a feeling of being in the right place at right time.</span></div><div align="center" style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">I’ve experienced moments of serendipity and I must tell you, </span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;">it’s an amazing happening! </span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;">Last year while visiting our local antique/craft </span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;">barn I experienced one such out of the ordinary encounter. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;">As my husband and I wondered through the museum-like barn, </span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;">there on a shelf in front of me was a lovely vintage calendar. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;">I was drawn to it and noticed the date – April, 1917. </span></div><div align="center" style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">The calendar was from a shop called Neill Shoe Store </span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;">which use to be in the town where we now live. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;">The picture they used caught my eye. At first glance </span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;">I thought it was of Mary, as in Mary had a little lamb, </span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;">but with closer inspection it proved to be Little Bo Peep. </span></div><div align="center" style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">Now for the serendipitous part…</span></div><div align="center" style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">Although, it was Little Bo Peep, the art picture for me screamed </span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;">Mary had a little lamb at first glance. My mom’s name is Mary. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;">Her father had a pet name for her where he called her </span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;">“Little Nell.” </span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;">The name of the store, Neill Shoe Store. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;">But what finally did it for me was my Mom’s date of birth.</span><br />
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</span></div><div align="center" style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">Mary Helena {Nellie} Johnson was born on April 6th, 1917. </span></div><div align="center"><br />
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</div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.blogger.com/post-edit.g?blogID=1414676589001415376&postID=853497420502514805" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;" target="_blank"><img src="http://i602.photobucket.com/albums/tt108/valentinestudio123/Client%20Blog%20Design/Signatures/LeavingATraceSig.png" style="background: none repeat scroll 0% 0% transparent; border: medium none;" /></a></div></div>Helena Whitehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03022290127423654311noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1414676589001415376.post-31354679612554246882011-04-16T16:44:00.014-04:002011-06-30T10:41:19.921-04:00Crumb Cake ~ From My Mothers Kitchen<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-ZOinXUC4xmE/Tan7ZPMl5FI/AAAAAAAAAn8/tY7UI0_tXcU/s1600/IMG_3210.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="192" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-ZOinXUC4xmE/Tan7ZPMl5FI/AAAAAAAAAn8/tY7UI0_tXcU/s200/IMG_3210.JPG" width="200" /></a></div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><br />
<div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>Since receiving several requests for</i></span></div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>The Crumb Cake recipe mentioned in my post </i></span></div></div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>"Please Come For Tea", I thought what better </i></span></div><div style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>way to share it than on my blog....Enjoy...</i></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Crumb Cake</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">Preheat oven to 375 F</div><div style="text-align: center;">Grease a 9-inch square cake pan.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">In small bowl of electric mixer, cream</div><div style="text-align: center;">¾ cup of butter {my Mother used lard}</div><div style="text-align: center;">Blend together {rub} </div><div style="text-align: center;">1 cup of white sugar</div><div style="text-align: center;">Add 2 cups of all-purpose flour </div><div style="text-align: center;">and blend until resembles cornmeal…crumbs.</div><div style="text-align: center;">Reserve 1 cup of this mixture and set aside</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">Sift together and add</div><div style="text-align: center;">¼ tsp salt</div><div style="text-align: center;">1 tsp cinnamon</div><div style="text-align: center;">1 tsp ground cloves</div><div style="text-align: center;">1 tsp nutmeg</div><div style="text-align: center;">½-tsp baking soda</div><div style="text-align: center;">2 tsp baking powder</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">Then mix in</div><div style="text-align: center;">2 eggs</div><div style="text-align: center;">1 cup of buttermilk or sour milk</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">Fold in</div><div style="text-align: center;">1 cup of raisons</div><div style="text-align: center;">1 cup of currants </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">Pour batter into prepared pan. Sprinkle with reserved crumb mixture.</div><div style="text-align: center;">Bake in preheated 375 oven for 40 - 50 minutes or until toothpick comes out clean.</div><div style="text-align: center;">Cool 5 minutes then remove from pan.</div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Iygbkc6Byus/Tan78Nm1CiI/AAAAAAAAAoA/aMcgZ4-Mn7g/s1600/Recently+Updated11-1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Iygbkc6Byus/Tan78Nm1CiI/AAAAAAAAAoA/aMcgZ4-Mn7g/s320/Recently+Updated11-1.jpg" width="265" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;">From my Mothers own pen</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
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</div>Helena Whitehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03022290127423654311noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1414676589001415376.post-87999343974071101672011-04-06T08:46:00.010-04:002014-07-06T15:53:08.305-04:00Please Come For Tea<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<b><span style="font-size: small;"><i>In moments of alone time or in the company of friends,</i></span></b></div>
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<b><span style="font-size: small;"><i>the genuine pleasure of tea drinking is a timeless social</i></span></b></div>
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<b><span style="font-size: small;"><i>gesture that never loses its charm.</i></span></b></div>
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Enjoying a cup of tea has always been a special ritual for me.<br />
My Mother taught me the knack of tea-time. From early on,<br />
I have fond memories of sharing a cup of tea with my Mother.<br />
I consider my Mother's famous crumb cake to be<br />
the perfect accompaniment to this day.</div>
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The tradition of having a tea party has been passed down to my<br />
children, and I now enjoy sipping tea<br />
together with my grandchildren.<br />
More than simply a beverage, tea allows one to pause,<br />
while it feeds the soul through quiet reflection.</div>
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I always love to peruse different towns and villages,<br />
seeking out a congenial respite for lunch.<br />
Visiting these small towns almost always entails my discovering<br />
the neighbourhood Tea Room.<br />
I have often fantasized about running my own Tea Room.<br />
While in these sanctuaries,<br />
I continuously decorate in my mind's eye,<br />
improving on their décor choices.<br />
It would have an adjoining gift shop that would sell<br />
everything related to the Art Of Making Tea.<br />
I even have a name at the ready…<br />
"The Lavender Lace Tea Room".</div>
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Ahh, I can picture it so clearly…..<br />
Step in the door and be met by the fragrant aroma of tea...<br />
the scent of scones warm from the oven...<br />
the delightful company of friends, both old and new.<br />
Sip & savour the moment! "Thε Lavender Lace Tea Room",<br />
a fɾiendly, loving and peaceful place to visit and enjoy your favourite cup of Tea.</div>
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The ceremony of tea drinking has managed to remain a constant in my life - a comfort, a haven, a warm treat that outshines any afternoon refreshment and recharges my spirit. There is something calming found in a warm cup of tea...a time to reflect, relax, and treasure our friendships.</div>
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The art of tea allows us to celebrate. It is a time-honored ritual, a unique recipe for musing that secretly feeds the soul, especially when savoring that first sip. Ahh, the sweet aroma of crumb cake…thank you Mom.</div>
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___________ ♥ღϠ₡ღ♥_____________<br />
~~~~~~~VICTORIAN TEA~~~~~~~<br />
~~~~~~NOW BEING SERVED~~~~~~<br />
___________ ♥ღϠ₡ღ♥_____________<br />
Finger Sandwiches*Fresh Scones*Jams*<br />
*Whipped Cream*Butter tarts*Mini Muffins*<br />
*Blueberry Truffles*Chocolate Surprise*<br />
___________ ♥ღϠ₡ღ♥_____________<br />
***TEA*COFFEE* LEMONADE***<br />
House Specialty~ Lavender Lace Tea</div>
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For my Mother Mary <br />
April 06 1917 - October 27, 2000 </div>
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Helena Whitehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03022290127423654311noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1414676589001415376.post-9613577781082521512011-03-27T23:20:00.016-04:002014-07-06T16:02:15.569-04:00As I Stare At My Refection<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span lang="EN">Prelude to a Prose</span></div>
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I have emptied my soul and allowed myself to </div>
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return to the dark pit of grief , temporarily...</div>
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I want you to know I am fine, after some tears of course.</div>
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The words below just poured out....</div>
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This prompt allowed me to </div>
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explain the raw numbing pain of loss....</div>
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This is how I felt in the first </div>
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months after my daughters funeral... perhaps years after. </div>
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Lacy, I will forever feel your Love.</div>
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<span lang="E"> </span><span lang="EN-CA">☸</span><span lang="E"> </span><span lang="EN-CA">☸</span><span lang="E"> </span><span lang="EN-CA">☸</span><span lang="E"> </span><span lang="EN-CA">☸</span><span lang="E"> </span><span lang="EN-CA">☸</span><span lang="E"> </span><span lang="EN-CA">☸</span><span lang="E"> </span><span lang="EN-CA">☸</span><span lang="E"> </span><span lang="EN-CA">☸</span><span lang="E"> </span><span lang="EN-CA">☸</span><span lang="E"> </span><span lang="EN-CA">☸</span><span lang="E"> </span></div>
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-WSz8jeaQm5A/U7mrJdkQbOI/AAAAAAAAH1s/Nt_IzWZnPOc/s1600/5545408_mirror.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-WSz8jeaQm5A/U7mrJdkQbOI/AAAAAAAAH1s/Nt_IzWZnPOc/s1600/5545408_mirror.png" height="320" width="212" /></a></div>
<span lang="E"> </span><span lang="EN-CA"><br />
Dear Mirror<br />
As I stare at my reflection<br />
I see a stranger.<br />
Sorrow has eaten me away, revealing a wraith-like shadow me, </span></div>
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with coal-stained eyes deprived of sleep, a distressed washed-out,</div>
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tear- stained complexion, a withered sickly grossness that has </div>
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wrenched me through the looking glass of raw pain,</div>
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where I have vanished inside my own grief. </div>
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Feeling alone and fighting to stay present against the </div>
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bottomless black pit of despair, has used up all of my resolve. </div>
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My strength of will has no reserves.</div>
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I am a mere imitation of my former self, an impostor, </div>
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almost certainly unrecognizable by my friends and family.</div>
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Will this torment ever end?</div>
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☸<span lang="E"> </span><span lang="EN-CA">☸</span><span lang="E"> </span><span lang="EN-CA">☸</span><span lang="E"> </span><span lang="EN-CA">☸</span><span lang="E"> </span><span lang="EN-CA">☸</span><span lang="E"> </span><span lang="EN-CA">☸</span><span lang="E"> </span><span lang="EN-CA">☸</span><span lang="E"> </span><span lang="EN-CA">☸</span><span lang="E"> </span><span lang="EN-CA">☸</span><span lang="E"> </span><span lang="EN-CA">☸</span><span lang="E"> </span><span lang="EN-CA">☸</span><span lang="E"> </span><span lang="EN-CA">☸</span><span lang="E"> </span><span lang="EN-CA">☸</span><span lang="E"> </span></div>
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♥ © ஆ<span style="font-family: Times New Roman;">ε</span>l<span style="font-family: Times New Roman;">ε</span>ɳa</div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">Challenge: Write a letter to the person you see in your mirror</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">posted on <a href="http://write-a-letter-wednesday.blogspot.com/2011/04/write-letter-wednesday-13.html">http://write-a-letter-wednesday.blogspot.com/2011/04/write-letter-wednesday-13.html</a></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;"> </span><span style="font-size: x-small;">Poetry Prompt...Finish this line...For</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;"><a href="http://dodgewrites.blogspot.com/2011/03/todays-prompt-is-finish-this-line.html">http://dodgewrites.blogspot.com/2011/03/todays-prompt-is-finish-this-line.html</a></span></div>
Helena Whitehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03022290127423654311noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1414676589001415376.post-31490633972800465892011-03-24T23:54:00.005-04:002011-05-31T20:02:42.538-04:00A Love Letter<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-stN4oueAvLk/TYwOjpku6JI/AAAAAAAAAaM/caNQvDioz5I/s1600/stationaryARABELLA_BANNER_500_ANIM.gif.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="179" src="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-stN4oueAvLk/TYwOjpku6JI/AAAAAAAAAaM/caNQvDioz5I/s320/stationaryARABELLA_BANNER_500_ANIM.gif.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span lang="EN"><i>October 2, 2011</i><br />
<br />
Dear Chantelle<br />
<br />
<i>Eighteen years today, Chantelle. <br />
The span of time seems impossible to comprehend. </i><br />
<br />
Words of love through poetry continue to find my pen. <br />
Lunch away at a quaint town, nearby. <br />
On the way there, the song on the radio as <br />
if right on cue plays for me only.</span><br />
<span lang="EN"> <br />
The song “Don’t forget me when I’m gone” <br />
evoke tears of gratitude for the much needed sign. <br />
A knowing glance from Bob as he also recognizes <br />
the significance this special song has for me. </span><br />
<span lang="EN"> <br />
Today welcomes autumns Indian summer. <br />
We walk the town and visit the many charming shops, <br />
looking for nothing in particular, but hoping to <br />
find the perfect treasure to mark this day. <br />
<br />
Ice tea and fish and chips satisfy our comfort </span><span lang="EN-CA">food </span><span lang="EN">craving. </span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span lang="EN">Restaurant radio crackles, before another song starts. </span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span lang="EN">Your presence is felt as “Knights In White Satin” </span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span lang="EN">plays quietly in the background. </span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span lang="EN">We sit in silence, listening to every word, welcoming another </span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span lang="EN">amazing glimpse into the unnameable realm. </span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">Lacy, our connection never falters. </div><div style="text-align: center;">This day always amplifies your energy, </div><div style="text-align: center;">moving your essence even closer. </div><div style="text-align: center;">Although I still feel the pain of loss, </div><div style="text-align: center;">today it is filtered though all the love you continue to send.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">Love is felt throughout my whole being. </div><div style="text-align: center;">You will always be loved and never forgotten. </div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-QhfzWV2k8VI/TYypUhMuvbI/AAAAAAAAAb0/qvqaXNKLKXM/s1600/staionary+sets2-1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-QhfzWV2k8VI/TYypUhMuvbI/AAAAAAAAAb0/qvqaXNKLKXM/s1600/staionary+sets2-1.jpg" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-4CDy7RnJhBk/TYwRaFcYPLI/AAAAAAAAAaQ/C7mQXuEbjzk/s1600/stationaryARABELLA_BANNER_500_ANIM.gif-1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="40" src="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/-4CDy7RnJhBk/TYwRaFcYPLI/AAAAAAAAAaQ/C7mQXuEbjzk/s320/stationaryARABELLA_BANNER_500_ANIM.gif-1.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div style="color: #e06666; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">This is for my first visit to Write A Letter Wednesday</span></div><div style="color: #e06666; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><a href="http://write-a-letter-wednesday.blogspot.com/">http://write-a-letter-wednesday.blogspot.com/</a></span></div><div align="center"></div>Helena Whitehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03022290127423654311noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1414676589001415376.post-22419456423405600672011-03-19T19:55:00.021-04:002014-07-06T16:35:20.727-04:00Merrow Churchyard By Moonlight<div style="margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center;">
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<span lang="EN"><b><i></i></b></span><br />
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<span lang="EN"><b><i>This is a Poem by </i></b></span><br />
<span lang="EN"><b><i>my Great, Great Grandfather & Poet</i></b></span></div>
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<b></b><br />
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<b>FRANK JOHNSON, English born poet</b></div>
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<b>September 2. 1810 - February 17, 1892</b><br />
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<b>The Village Of Merrow</b></div>
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-mMw9cs22MF4/TYZpoYISPMI/AAAAAAAAAYQ/RuAlO4QjnOM/s1600/Our+Universe1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-mMw9cs22MF4/TYZpoYISPMI/AAAAAAAAAYQ/RuAlO4QjnOM/s1600/Our+Universe1.jpg" height="166" width="400" /></a></div>
Scene, England, <br />
-- a county bordering on the mouth of the River Thames.</div>
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Time, --towards the end of the first half of the present century.<br />
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<b>Merrow Churchyard by Moonlight</b></div>
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Now Dian’s orb was hung on high,<br />
And all so sunk in rest,<br />
A stranger to the world had deemed<br />
Its habitants were blest.</div>
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Who, with the sorcery around<br />
Of a night so calm, so clear,<br />
Could have borne to think that its least content<br />
Could have ever known a tear?</div>
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A night indeed! -- so hushed, serene,<br />
Scarce a dead leaflet stirr’d;<br />
If, in the far, a cry, a chime,<br />
Who would not such have heard.</div>
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The snowy moon that lives aloft<br />
Seemed all alone to bide,<br />
As if the only thing awake,<br />
And watching all beside.</div>
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I could but think of day’s bight orb<br />
Were made alone for light,<br />
Man might have done without the sun,<br />
For the sake of such a night.</div>
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Imagine my surprise while researching my<br />
Family Tree a few short years ago to learn that my<br />
Great, Great Grandfather was a published<br />
writer and poet! Frank Johnson…<br />
author of Lashed to the Mizzen,Giles and Janey, or<br />
The Kindly Gentleman, and The Village Of Merrow,<br />
It’s Past and Present. I was thrilled the day I received<br />
a 1st edition copy of,The Village of Merrow printed<br />
by Lovell Printing and Publishing Company. 1876.<br />
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<b><span style="font-size: large;">FRANK JOHNSON, English born poet, emigrated to LennoxVille, Quebec</span></b><br />
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FRANK JOHNSON was the son of ROBERT JOHNSON and MARTHA TOVEY.<br />
==============================================<br />
The Magazine of Poetry and Literary Review - Page 421<br />
edited by Charles Wells Moulton - American poetry - 1892<br />
<br />
FRANK JOHNSON was born September 2nd, 1810, in London, Eng. He had barely entered upon his third year when he was sent to a preparatory school at Hampstead. From thence having completed his eighth year, he was transferred to a classical school in London, where after a seven years' training in Greek, Latin, French, Italian and mathematics, he was sent to Edinburgh University. Here, however, his ambition to be an actor, brought his studies in Edinburgh to a close. It was now that his naturally good constitution began somewhat to fail him, through too close an application to his self-directed studies, and with a view to recruit him, he was sent by his father, a medical practitioner, into Hertfordshire. It was here that he betook himself to the study of the flora of the fields, and it was during his rambles in the lanes and wastes of Hertfordshire, that he familiarized himself with the poverty and struggles of the underpaid labourers on the soil, a familiarity which, some years afterwards, he turned to good account in his "Village of Merrow. "<br />
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It was in his twenty- fifth year that, again with a view to thoroughly establish his health, and to wean him from his still lingering ambition to be an actor, his father proposed to him an extended course of travel, a proposition which was embraced with enthusiasm. In less than a month he embarked in a small South seaman, bound for a lengthened cruise in the Indian and Pacific oceans. It was thence that he acquired the terrible experience that enabled him to write his "Lashed to the Mizzen." After a cruise of upwards of two years, unbroken by a single night on shore, Mr. Johnson, on the vessel touching at New Zealand, abandoned her and resided along with the cannibals, thirty miles up the Hokiawga river, on the lookout for a chance passage to Australia, whence after a further detention, he embarked in a brig for Valparaiso, eventually reaching Buenos Ayres, by crossing with a guide the Andes and the Pampas. This was followed by extensive travel in the leading countries of Europe. Thus far his life appears to liave been one that few would have quarrelled with, but now the picture was about to change.<br />
<br />
He invested quite a little fortune, bequeathed him during his travels by his grandfather, in the New Zealand Land Company's unfortunate Cook Straits Settlements. It would be a long story, but one by no means dishonouring to Mr. Johnson to show how, for upwards of eight years, the principal share in upholding the Port Nicholson Settlement, fell to him. It must suffice to say, that after almost incredible trials and disappointments, he had finally to retire with the loss of two-thirds of his capital and fearfully worn, into the bargain.<br />
<br />
After his return to England, he farmed for a few years in Pembrokeshire, whence at the suggestion of his then still surviving mother, he removed with his four boys to Lower Canada, now the Province of Quebec. He is still living on the farm near Lennox Ville, acquired by him some thirty years since, with his eldest son who looks after the cultivation of the land. He still continues to be a welcome contributor to the local press, and his writings are regarded with favour. As a citizen and colonist Mr. Johnson holds a high rank.<br />
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<div style="color: #741b47; text-align: center;">
<span lang="EN" style="font-size: x-small;"><b><i>For <a href="http://onestoppoetry.com/2011/03/a-saturday-celebration-world-poetry-day-march-21st.html">World Poetry Day</a> at One Stop Poetry.</i></b></span></div>
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Helena Whitehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03022290127423654311noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1414676589001415376.post-71330624433160892232011-03-04T11:55:00.012-05:002014-07-06T16:54:57.886-04:00Ah Spring!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span lang="EN-CA"><span lang="EN-CA"></span></span><br />
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<span lang="EN-CA"><span lang="EN-CA">Leaves</span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-CA"><span lang="EN-CA">Awaken early to greet the warmth of the morning sun</span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-CA"><span lang="EN-CA">Birds singing, busy with their nests</span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-CA"><span lang="EN-CA">Cleansing rains offer nourishment for the parched canopy</span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-CA"><span lang="EN-CA">The energy of the sun envelops the newness</span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-CA"><span lang="EN-CA">A new life emerges from each branch </span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-CA"><span lang="EN-CA">A gentle breeze blows softly, rustling each new birth </span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-CA"><span lang="EN-CA">In the quiet of the stillness</span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-CA"><span lang="EN-CA">Alone</span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-CA"><span lang="EN-CA"><span lang="EN-CA">As each leaf opens gently<br />
Bursting forth into nature,<br />
It becomes a welcome witness<br />
To an engaging Spring. </span></span></span><br />
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<span lang="EN-CA"><span lang="EN-CA"><span lang="EN-CA"><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Ah Spring!</span></div>
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<span lang="EN-CA">As we say farewell to the long, ragged winter, anticipation of spring is felt deep within our spirit. This renewed spark is the essence of our connection to the Earth. After our deep hibernation under the cloak of winter's abundance, spring is a most welcoming season.<br />
<br />
During winter's embrace we shield ourselves </span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span lang="EN-CA">from the cold landscape.<br />
We quietly hunker down to rejuvenate ourselves in </span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span lang="EN-CA">anticipation of future blossoms. </span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span lang="EN-CA">This deep freeze partially hides us from one and other.<br />
<br />
Spring’s arrival beckons us to awaken!<br />
As the days become brighter, our souls yearn to reconnect.<br />
As the days grow longer, </span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span lang="EN-CA">so do our walks and chats with neighbours.<br />
At Spring's first blush, we eagerly emerge from winter's hold, <br />
realizing our good fortune of living in such a diverse and <br />
miraculous world, which we have the honor of call home.</span></div>
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♥ © H<span style="font-family: Times New Roman;">ε</span>l<span style="font-family: Times New Roman;">ε</span>ɳa <span style="font-family: Times New Roman;">ω</span><span style="font-family: Times New Roman;">ђ</span><span style="font-family: Times New Roman;">ί</span>Ե<span style="font-family: Times New Roman;">ε</span></div>
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<div style="text-align: left;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="color: #e06666; font-size: x-small;">Lets help celebrate Spring over at <a href="http://www.onestoppoetry.com/"><span class="Apple-style-span">One Stop Poetry</span></a> with Brian Miller </span> </span></div>
<span style="font-family: Times New Roman;"></span>Helena Whitehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03022290127423654311noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1414676589001415376.post-68352404480408592352011-02-23T20:13:00.001-05:002014-07-06T17:04:07.957-04:00Lighting a candle for Christchurch N.Z.<div style="margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-irO8RhRiU4c/TWWw1-OlXkI/AAAAAAAAAUk/51G-T3YK_Lc/s1600/Candles%2Bpurple.jpg"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-irO8RhRiU4c/TWWw1-OlXkI/AAAAAAAAAUk/51G-T3YK_Lc/s320/Candles%2Bpurple.jpg" height="200" width="200" /></a> </div>
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<br />
Lighting a candle for<br />
Christchurch N.Z.<br />
Lღ√Ƹ & LﻨցнԵ <br />
♥<br />
¸.*`.¸ღ¸.*`.¸ღ¸.*`.¸ღ¸.*`.¸ღ¸.*<br />
`.¸¸♥´¯) ¸.☆´¯)<br />
(¸☆´ (¸.♥´´¯`•.¸¸.ღ<br />
<br />
This candle represents a show of support for all the victims in <br />
the New Zealand Earthquake. <br />
<br />
<span lang="EN-CA">♥ H<span style="font-family: Times New Roman;">ε</span>l<span style="font-family: Times New Roman;">ε</span>ɳa ♥</span></div>
Helena Whitehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03022290127423654311noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1414676589001415376.post-17630179563610557482011-02-13T11:35:00.017-05:002014-07-06T18:17:38.337-04:00The Dream<div align="center">
<br /></div>
<div align="center">
On my blog</div>
<div align="center">
<i>"Memory Box Creations"</i>, I posted </div>
<div align="center">
"Beyond the Veil", </div>
<div align="center">
which resulted from a dream </div>
<div align="center">
I had in September 1995, while bereaving the </div>
<div align="center">
sudden loss of my teenage daughter, Lacy.</div>
<div align="center">
I have chosen to share this dream to demonstrate </div>
<div align="center">
how my interpretations </div>
<div align="center">
allow me to not only process grief and tragedy, </div>
<div align="center">
but also serve to inspire me </div>
<div align="center">
to interact with these unseen realms as a </div>
<div align="center">
conduit to my poetic muse. </div>
<div align="center">
I am currently revisiting that time and writing </div>
<div align="center">
my personal account </div>
<div align="center">
of healing through loss, in the hopes that by doing so, </div>
<div align="center">
it may show others how writing can be a doorway to get </div>
<div align="center">
to the other side of healing a pain that one thinks will never
heal.</div>
<div align="center">
Please know that I do continue to feel deep loss, </div>
<div align="center">
yet the love that I have for Lacy (Chantelle) remains. </div>
<div align="center">
However, the emotional pain is filtered and softened </div>
<div align="center">
the more that I write and share my story </div>
<div align="center">
with others...like yourself. </div>
<div align="center">
The poem follows the Dream</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-1Y-7-oFuG6w/U7m_Jw4jisI/AAAAAAAAH3k/5mR6wFgUeaY/s1600/Scroll+Divider.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-1Y-7-oFuG6w/U7m_Jw4jisI/AAAAAAAAH3k/5mR6wFgUeaY/s1600/Scroll+Divider.png" height="49" width="320" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div align="center">
<i>Chantelle Lee Lace</i></div>
<div align="center">
<i>November 25, 1975 - October 2, 1992</i></div>
<br />
<div align="center">
Dream ~ September 8, 1995</div>
<div align="center">
Chantelle had returned. </div>
<div align="center">
The dream is somewhat vague, </div>
<div align="center">
but I knew she was back with us.</div>
<div align="center">
I found that I felt so happy, </div>
<div align="center">
yet at the same time I was paralyzed by fear...</div>
<div align="center">
Of something happening to her again. </div>
<div align="center">
My fear was all-consuming.<br />
<br /></div>
<div align="center">
<i>Next scene…</i><br />
<br /></div>
<div align="center">
I was looking through a very large window, </div>
<div align="center">
with extra-wide sills.</div>
<div align="center">
The window was arched at the top with exquisite, </div>
<div align="center">
antique crown mouldings and cornices.</div>
<div align="center">
There was no glass in the window… </div>
<div align="center">
I was compelled to gaze through the opening. </div>
<div align="center">
Off in the distance, I noticed an old house. </div>
<div align="center">
White stone walls offered a warm welcome. </div>
<div align="center">
I thought to myself, </div>
<div align="center">
how perfect would it be to be able </div>
<div align="center">
to live in this amazing house.<br />
<br /></div>
<div align="center">
A voice…I hear it is haunted… </div>
<div align="center">
I spun around to see who spoke, but no one was there.</div>
<div align="center">
As I turned back toward the window, </div>
<div align="center">
there was a woman standing near the white stone house. </div>
<div align="center">
Everything had a grey cast, much like a black-and-white photo.
</div>
<div align="center">
I looked into the depths of her eyes, and she </div>
<div align="center">
acknowledged my gaze by nodding her head. </div>
<div align="center">
She looked so sad </div>
<div align="center">
Although I was a little frightened, </div>
<div align="center">
I continued to stare.<br />
<br /></div>
<div align="center">
Then, I smiled at her, and she returned the smile. </div>
<div align="center">
Our smiles seemed to unlock this still picture… </div>
<div align="center">
allowing her the freedom to walk towards me. </div>
<div align="center">
She wore a dark dress with an ivory lace collar and cuffs.</div>
<div align="center">
Her dark hair was piled up on top of her head. </div>
<div align="center">
She was a petite woman, with delicate features. </div>
<div align="center">
We did not speak aloud…communication was telepathic.</div>
<div align="center">
She recognized my fear and in some way calmed me. </div>
<div align="center">
As she approached the window, it ever so subtlety </div>
<div align="center">
changed to include a table and chairs.<br />
<br /></div>
<div align="center">
She sat on one side while I remained on the other. </div>
<div align="center">
The archway was still prominent over us. </div>
<div align="center">
I immediately asked about Chantelle. </div>
<div align="center">
She told me that she also was experiencing some </div>
<div align="center">
bad dreams and finding it difficult to adjust without me. </div>
<div align="center">
She told me that we were both afraid and </div>
<div align="center">
therefore made things more difficult. </div>
<div align="center">
She told me that Chantelle comes to visit me in my dreams… </div>
<div align="center">
I noticed that she was watching my hands. </div>
<div align="center">
I sensed that she was going to touch me.</div>
<div align="center">
I immediately thought that if she did, </div>
<div align="center">
our visit might end and again I was frightened.<br />
<br /></div>
<div align="center">
I felt compelled to look at her hands. </div>
<div align="center">
They looked transparent and unearthly. </div>
<div align="center">
She cupped my hand in hers…welcoming the connection </div>
<div align="center">
and commenting how warm I felt. </div>
<div align="center">
Such pleasure this seemed to give her. </div>
<div align="center">
She ever so gently lifted my hands up to her face, </div>
<div align="center">
touching her with the back of my hand. </div>
<div align="center">
She closed her eyes momentarily. </div>
<div align="center">
When she opened her eyes, she was weeping. </div>
<div align="center">
Tears filled her eyes to full. </div>
<div align="center">
Tears of joy, melancholy, love, sadness… </div>
<div align="center">
She was filled with such emotion; it was overwhelming. </div>
<div align="center">
I felt her love and understood.<br />
<br /></div>
<div align="center">
I asked her to tell Chantelle that I loved her, </div>
<div align="center">
missed her and that I think of her every minute of the day. </div>
<div align="center">
I wanted to say so much more but I was so </div>
<div align="center">
overwhelmed that I was a loss for words. </div>
<div align="center">
She indicated that she now had to leave. </div>
<div align="center">
Surprisingly, she came around the table somehow to my side, </div>
<div align="center">
all the while continuing to hold my hands. </div>
<div align="center">
She reached out and hugged me ever so gently.<br />
<br /></div>
<div align="center">
Together we cried… </div>
<div align="center">
I felt such calm and gained an understanding </div>
<div align="center">
for which words could never explain.</div>
<div align="center">
I know that Chantelle is not far away. </div>
<div align="center">
I realized that she is not meant to be here now</div>
<div align="center">
That somehow if she were here I would not be able </div>
<div align="center">
to fulfill my destiny, because my love for her </div>
<div align="center">
is so strong that I would live only for her.<br />
<br /></div>
<div align="center">
My visitor, now ghost-like, was leaving. </div>
<div align="center">
A staircase appeared and as she climbed, </div>
<div align="center">
I noticed that the grey cast had lifted, and she </div>
<div align="center">
now was surrounded by dazzling translucent colors. </div>
<br />
<div align="center">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-ku1sN9BoXEQ/U7m-0Vj7ygI/AAAAAAAAH3c/AC7SfVp4bUs/s1600/pink+rose.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-ku1sN9BoXEQ/U7m-0Vj7ygI/AAAAAAAAH3c/AC7SfVp4bUs/s1600/pink+rose.png" height="200" width="200" /></a> </div>
<div align="center">
<i>After experience…. </i><br />
<i>Sept 9th , the next day…</i></div>
<div align="center">
<i>My nephew’s wedding day…</i></div>
<div align="center">
Before the ceremony, I went inside to use the powder room.</div>
<div align="center">
Upon entering, my thoughts went back to my dream from last
night…</div>
<div align="center">
This gorgeous old building was reminiscent of the white stone
house in the dream</div>
<div align="center">
especially the big arched windows with wide window sills.</div>
<div align="center">
I wandered from room to room unnoticed. </div>
<div align="center">
This old building felt familiar, like I had been there before.
</div>
<div align="center">
I embraced this serendipitous happening and thoroughly enjoyed
my </div>
<div align="center">
nephew's wedding day...</div>
<div align="center">
all aglow with love and radiant color. <br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
</div>
<div align="center">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-AsvOnBjhjeI/U7nJpXQP9KI/AAAAAAAAH30/dO15vMgRVb4/s1600/Ser2+v14+1822+Ackermann%27s+fashion+plate+17+-+Court+Dress.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-AsvOnBjhjeI/U7nJpXQP9KI/AAAAAAAAH30/dO15vMgRVb4/s1600/Ser2+v14+1822+Ackermann's+fashion+plate+17+-+Court+Dress.png" height="320" width="226" /></a></div>
<br />
<i>Beyond The Veil </i></div>
<div align="center">
She came while I was resting </div>
<div align="center">
Spoke softly as I slept </div>
<div align="center">
Quiet tears of rapture </div>
<div align="center">
In dark silence, I wept.</div>
<div align="center">
Her essence did not threaten, </div>
<div align="center">
Her grace felt deep within</div>
<div align="center">
Her eyes conveyed such tenderness, </div>
<div align="center">
She chose to now begin. </div>
<div align="center">
She first appeared in shades of grey </div>
<div align="center">
Eyes downcast, colors dull.</div>
<div align="center">
But as she moved much closer, </div>
<div align="center">
Her being glowed with love.</div>
<div align="center">
I sensed a tinge of fear, </div>
<div align="center">
As she reached for my embrace</div>
<div align="center">
Her touch with kind caress </div>
<div align="center">
Cupped my hands up to her face.</div>
<div align="center">
Tears filled her eyes to full, </div>
<div align="center">
In her presence I felt safe.</div>
<div align="center">
This lady from the past </div>
<div align="center">
Transcended time and space.</div>
<div align="center">
She answered many queries</div>
<div align="center">
As trust and compassion grew, </div>
<div align="center">
She spoke of many things</div>
<div align="center">
That in my heart I knew were true.</div>
<div align="center">
When she turned to leave,</div>
<div align="center">
I saw the essence of her light.</div>
<div align="center">
The grey cast had been lifted</div>
<div align="center">
Replaced by colors bright.</div>
<div align="center">
Not only in my dreams</div>
<div align="center">
Will these miracles be found,</div>
<div align="center">
For our hearts with love eternal</div>
<div align="center">
Are now forever bound.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-1Y-7-oFuG6w/U7m_Jw4jisI/AAAAAAAAH3o/4a6IrnHVh-A/s1600/Scroll+Divider.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-1Y-7-oFuG6w/U7m_Jw4jisI/AAAAAAAAH3o/4a6IrnHVh-A/s1600/Scroll+Divider.png" height="49" width="320" /></a></div>
</div>
<br />
<div align="center">
<i>Hεlεɳa </i></div>
<div align="center">
</div>
<span lang="EN-CA"></span><br />
<div align="CENTER">
</div>
<span lang="EN-CA">
</span>
<br />
<div align="CENTER">
</div>
<span lang="EN-CA">
</span>
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</div>
Helena Whitehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03022290127423654311noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1414676589001415376.post-91462823037247828442011-02-10T22:41:00.011-05:002011-02-11T12:46:00.883-05:00Celestial Dream Spiral<p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1><div style="margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center;"><p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-EFvyuJhxefU/TVSv9OXgNSI/AAAAAAAAAOA/GAJpAvB_wE8/s1600/Smile%2Bwhen%2Byou%2Bwant%2Bto%2Bsmile%2Bcry%2Bwhenyou%2Bwant%2Bto%2Bcry%2Bthe%2Bperfection%2Bis%2Bnot%2Bto%2Bbe%2Balways%2Bhappy.jpg"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-EFvyuJhxefU/TVSv9OXgNSI/AAAAAAAAAOA/GAJpAvB_wE8/s320/Smile%2Bwhen%2Byou%2Bwant%2Bto%2Bsmile%2Bcry%2Bwhenyou%2Bwant%2Bto%2Bcry%2Bthe%2Bperfection%2Bis%2Bnot%2Bto%2Bbe%2Balways%2Bhappy.jpg" /></a> <span lang="EN-CA"><br />
</span></p$1><span lang="EN-CA"></span></p$1><span lang="EN-CA"></span></p$1><span lang="EN-CA"></span></p$1><span lang="EN-CA"></span></p$1><span lang="EN-CA"></span></p$1><span lang="EN-CA"></span></p$1><span lang="EN-CA"></span></p$1><span lang="EN-CA"></span></p$1><span lang="EN-CA"></span></p$1><span lang="EN-CA"></span></p$1></p$1></div><span lang="EN-CA"></span><div style="margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center;"><p$1><p$1><span lang="EN-CA">Celestial </span>Dream Spiral</p$1></p$1></div><div style="margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center;"><p$1><p$1> </p$1></p$1></div><div style="margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center;"><p$1><p$1><span lang="EN-CA">Falling, falling quickly...the sensation overwhelms. <br />
I cannot catch my breath!<br />
Falling, floating, spiraling...down, down, down... ever so softly.<br />
<br />
Fear tried to intervene. I would not let it, not this time. <br />
Please, this time has to be different.<br />
<br />
Spiraling further down, down, down.<br />
<br />
“Look around”, my inner voice urged, </span></p$1></p$1></div></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1><div style="margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center;"><p$1><p$1></p$1></p$1></div></p$1><div style="margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center;"><p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1>"Don't miss out on this extraordinary experience."</p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></div><p$1><div style="margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center;"><p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1><span lang="EN-CA">All at once, a feeling of serene tranquility enveloped my being. <br />
Now calm and untroubled, I looked upon a sea of bountiful clouds.<br />
White canopies dotted the sky, surrounding me in reassuring numbers.<br />
<br />
Spiraling down, down...gently down.<br />
<br />
The air was clear, the sky so blue, the clouds transparent. <br />
So unique was this hue, unlike any sky that I have ever witnessed. <br />
What was I a part of? What was I witnessing?<br />
So many simultaneously spiraling to the earth. <br />
Thousands, no! hundreds of thousands. <br />
Collective eyes all watching with surprised amazement, <br />
taking in this breathtaking happening! <br />
<br />
No words, no worries, no stress, no judgment. <br />
Feeling so in the moment and more alive than I have ever felt. <br />
Such an overwhelming sense of electrifying peace. <br />
We shared anticipatory curiosity, celebrations of love, incredible joy, <br />
all with accelerated faith and certainty. <br />
Traces of inner wisdom remained, <br />
conveying to me that no matter what: I AM...and always will be.<br />
<br />
Upon awakening, my body continued to shake <br />
within this spiraling vortex of <br />
transcendental energy.</span></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></div><p$1><div style="margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center;"><p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1><span lang="EN"><span lang="EN-CA">ღ Hεlεɳa <br />
~.^</span></span> </p$1></div><p$1><div style="margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center;"><p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1></p$1></p$1> </p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></div><p$1><div style="margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center;"><p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1>Posted for Theme Thursday<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><strong><a href="http://themethursday.blogspot.com/"><span style="color: #445566;">http://themethursday.blogspot.com/</span></a></strong></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></div><p$1><div style="margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center;"><p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></div><p$1><p$1><div style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1></p$1> </p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></div><p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1>Helena Whitehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03022290127423654311noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1414676589001415376.post-10700108836367935242011-02-09T17:29:00.004-05:002012-10-31T22:28:02.305-04:00Embracing The Season Of Love<br />
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<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-_zhdKfHCzSM/UJHdZPJE0AI/AAAAAAAAD40/i1nEE2Liw8k/s1600/IMG_3003feb+2011.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="273" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-_zhdKfHCzSM/UJHdZPJE0AI/AAAAAAAAD40/i1nEE2Liw8k/s320/IMG_3003feb+2011.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>My favorite heart and Rose necklace</i></div>
<br /><span lang="EN-CA">
</span><span lang="EN-CA">
As February arrives, Cupid’s arrow finds us smitten with dreams of spring. With the world still asleep under a blanket of snow, I am inspired to spend quiet time lost in words of romance. However, the cold, wet and grey month of February has many concealed gifts.</span><br /><span lang="EN-CA">
</span><br /><span lang="EN-CA">
Remember early school days, when you gave out Valentines to all your friends? Candy hearts inscribed with words of love, red-hot cinnamon hearts, and oh! the heart-shaped box filled with your favorite chocolates.</span><br /><span lang="EN-CA">
I still like the heart box more than the candy, lol. </span><br /><span lang="EN-CA">
</span><br /><span lang="EN-CA">
In February, my fondest memories of treasured gifts of love come to light. From the diamond heart necklace that my husband gave me on our first Valentine's Day together, to the tiny rose pendant gift from my daughter's dearest friend. Then, of course, there are the homemade Valentine’s received from my children and more recently from my grandchildren. These gifts from the heart, received with love, continue to promise all that I hold dear. Heartfelt keepsakes that mean more than the eyes can see. </span><br /><span lang="EN-CA">
</span><br /><span lang="EN-CA">
Such gifts as these create what I call, a sensation memory, the kind that stays in your heart forever. These tangible gifts hold more than sweets inside; they hold a promise of intention, the intention to offer the most precious of gifts, the gift of love. Perhaps the month of February isn’t so gloomy after all.</span><br /><span lang="EN-CA">
</span><br /><span lang="EN-CA">
</span><span lang="EN-CA">♥ H<span style="font-family: Times New Roman;">ε</span>l<span style="font-family: Times New Roman;">ε</span>ɳa ~.^</span><br />
<br />Helena Whitehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03022290127423654311noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1414676589001415376.post-87493748869503423932011-01-29T12:45:00.004-05:002011-01-29T12:50:41.327-05:00The Solitary Joys Of January<p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1><span lang="EN">Winter’s hold is tight in January, as the house creaks and the furnace hums. <br />
Outside the trees are frosted with ice that sparkle in the sunshine. <br />
The sliding door protests and needs extra encouragement to open. <br />
Topaz, my thirteen-year-old Sheltie passes through to brave the <br />
frigid landscape. The morning doves scatter with her arrival, <br />
but soon return to continue enjoying their breakfast feast. <br />
The crisp morning air tickles your nostrils as the snow crunches underfoot. <br />
The cold seems animated as it rouses Topaz to quickly return to our cozy, <br />
warm home, bringing along winter’s fresh scent. <br />
<br />
The cold of January is such that one must live in the moment. <br />
The stillness outside resonates throughout the house. <br />
It brings with it a time for reflection, when life slows down after <br />
the holiday who-haw flurry. January, my time to renew emotionally <br />
and to restore some order to my house. I tear apart cupboards and make <br />
room for the clarity that sparseness brings. <br />
<br />
You’re coaxed to your kitchen with calls for comfort foods, <br />
cooking spicy savoury stews, tomato sauces, casseroles, <br />
chicken pot pie and the like. You find yourself craving <br />
sticky sweet deserts like butter pecan tarts, apple pie, and banana bread. <br />
The aroma of baking these delights fill your home to perfection.<br />
<br />
Yes, the solitary joys of January, where days are shorter and nights are long.<br />
A time where I curl up with my stacks of magazines, ponder over the memories <br />
evoked by perusing photos from the past year and drink in the inspiration it evokes. <br />
It’s a time when I yearn for comfort through the tranquil seclusion that winter brings.</span><span lang="EN"> Now, for some peaceful musings in front of the fire, </span><span lang="EN">while enjoying a </span><br />
<p$1><span lang="EN">steaming hot tea and the sweet desert fresh from the oven.</span></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1><br />
<br />
<p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1><span lang="EN"><span lang="EN-CA">ღ Hεlεɳa ~.^</span></span></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1>Helena Whitehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03022290127423654311noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1414676589001415376.post-53252568002570946842011-01-26T21:02:00.009-05:002011-08-10T15:29:59.078-04:00Lady Topaz<div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-24nxIaPsnF8/TUDSInYuUJI/AAAAAAAAAI8/McPso6_B3qU/s1600/IMG_0530.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-24nxIaPsnF8/TUDSInYuUJI/AAAAAAAAAI8/McPso6_B3qU/s400/IMG_0530.JPG" width="290" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><p$1><p$1><p$1><span lang="EN-CA"> </span></p$1></p$1></p$1></div><div style="text-align: center;"><p$1><p$1><p$1><span lang="EN-CA">My Sheltie has dedicated herself to me. <br />
At night she sleeps in my room, always close by. <br />
In the morning while I journal and enjoy my morning tea, <br />
she lays beside me,. She is there now as I write this.<br />
<br />
If I shift in my chair, she raises her head. <br />
If I stand, she does. My life is her business. <br />
Topaz thinks it's normal to come everywhere with me. <br />
<br />
We are joined at the soul. <br />
She doesn't understand why I would <br />
want to do anything without her. <br />
<br />
This Devotion isn't something I've earned. <br />
It's not because I am good...it's because she is good. <br />
I am the center of her world. She reads me like a book. <br />
My moods, my health are felt deep in her bones. <br />
<br />
Topaz will never break my heart, unless she leaves me. <br />
Her love and devotion is ever present, unless you refuse it. <br />
She fills me with endless love and Joy. </span></p$1></p$1></p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1><span lang="EN-CA">Even her eyes smile when I return home. <br />
<br />
Dogs are a treasured gift. <br />
They trust you unless you teach them not to.<br />
Dogs offer us so much without asking for anything in return. <br />
<br />
I am eternally grateful for Topaz coming into my life.<br />
My Little Fur Child</span></p$1></p$1></p$1></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><p$1><p$1><p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1>ღ Hεlεɳa ~.^</p$1></p$1></p$1></div><div style="clear: both; text-align: right;"><br />
<br />
</div><p$1></p$1>Helena Whitehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03022290127423654311noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1414676589001415376.post-72541753360001839702011-01-24T23:46:00.000-05:002011-01-24T23:46:56.026-05:00Choices<span lang="EN-CA"><br />
<br />
With this blog, my intentions are to step outside of my comfort zone of living to please others, in the hopes of finding like-minded friends and writers who seek to share ideas, ponder choices, and explore inspirations. I appreciate all comments on my blog (positive or negative) as a means of encouraging an ever-evolving dialogue.<br />
<br />
In the past, I would allow myself to become paralyzed by what others thought of me. I would literally shut down and suppress the life of my choosing, therefore, living the life that people expected of me. I realize now, making choices that others did not like or understand, will not result in my destruction nor will my world crumble and fall. Free will and free choice are gifts we have been given that allow soul growth, so that we do not remain stuck in the quagmires of the past. <br />
<br />
As I revealed in my previous poem, "Old Friend", I would spread a blanket under the favourite tree of my childhood and write with total abandonment. I experienced the contentment of expressing my true, uninhibited feelings with no concern of being corrected or judged. This total freedom of choice always centered and calmed me, allowing me to process my emotions as well as my own truth.<br />
<br />
Every day spirit speaks...inspiration arrives presenting us with even more choices. Our bliss echoes through our choices as well as our feelings. We must remember the value in dreaming our own dreams, as we follow our heart's true calling.<br />
<br />
It is not up to us to control others' thoughts or assumptions, as we try to understand them. They, too, have the freedom to make their own judgments and choices. We can choose how we react to others' choices and interpretations through our attitudes and questions. May we grow in love, in forgiveness, and in wisdom, as we ask for the strength to make the right choices...ones that benefit the whole while bringing the healing we seek.<br />
</span>Helena Whitehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03022290127423654311noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1414676589001415376.post-64388256605768644832011-01-22T21:12:00.001-05:002011-01-22T21:14:52.845-05:00Daydreaming<p$1><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_uBBMBP2SO8A/TTuOdjwt9KI/AAAAAAAAAH8/KdQS9HAStUI/s1600/notepaper%2Bblue%2Bspace-3.jpg"><img alt="" border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_uBBMBP2SO8A/TTuOdjwt9KI/AAAAAAAAAH8/KdQS9HAStUI/s320/notepaper%2Bblue%2Bspace-3.jpg" style="clear: both; float: right; margin: 0px 0px 10px 10px;" /></a><span lang="EN">Can daydreaming be ego driven?<br />
<br />
Can it be our great escape, perhaps because we cannot accept the present, or does our countless imaginings inevitably separate us from the here and now?<br />
<br />
<br />
When does daydreaming take us too far?<br />
<br />
Can it take us too far or does it benefit us to practice in our minds eye all the things we would like to do or try.<br />
<br />
<br />
Quite possibly if we were to spend our entire life experience daydreaming, then we may never accomplish anything. However, if we were to use our imaginings as the amazing tool that it is, it could be the most unanticipated</span><span lang="EN-CA"> </span><span lang="EN">way to rehearse for the real thing. </span><br />
<span lang="EN"><br />
If you can imagine it, you can do it! Yes?</span><br />
<span lang="EN">If you really want to and believe you can, then you will.<br />
<br />
Daydreaming can be your greatest friend or your worst </span><span lang="EN-CA">adversary</span><span lang="EN">. Just dreaming and never doing, traps us in a mind prison. It can banish us from a world of endless possibilities or it can teach us to reach for the stars.</span><br />
<span lang="EN"><br />
“Lets go star gazing.”</span><br />
<span lang="EN"><br />
</span><span lang="EN-CA">✰ </span><span lang="EN"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman;">Đ</span>rɛam </span><span lang="EN-CA">✰ </span><span lang="EN"> Prɛparɛ </span><span lang="EN-CA">✰ </span><span lang="EN"> <span style="font-family: Times New Roman;">Đ</span>o</span><br />
<span lang="EN"></span><div style="clear: both; text-align: right;"><p$1><a href="http://picasa.google.com/blogger/" target="ext"><img align="middle" alt="Posted by Picasa" border="0" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/pbp.gif" style="background: 0% 50%; border: 0px; padding: 0px;" /></a></p$1></div><p$1></p$1></p$1>Helena Whitehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03022290127423654311noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1414676589001415376.post-34315399991805092632011-01-16T19:30:00.007-05:002011-01-16T19:54:48.634-05:00Enough<p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1><span lang="EN-CA"><br />
</span><span lang="EN-CA">Is too much of anything harmful?</span><br />
<p$1><span lang="EN-CA"></span><span lang="EN">Is finding the right balance the true secret of a positive and fulfilling life experience?</span><br />
<p$1><span lang="EN">When is enough, enough?<br />
And does wanting more only leave us emotionally and physically exhausted?<br />
<br />
More food, more wine, more money, more this, </span></p$1></p$1><p$1><p$1></p$1></p$1><p$1><p$1></p$1></p$1><p$1><p$1><span lang="EN">more that, </span></p$1></p$1><p$1><p$1><span lang="EN">more and more stuff! Yikes!<br />
<br />
I Have Enough!<br />
<br />
We know that more and more food creates obesity, <br />
but I have come to learn that more and more stuff <br />
creates a kind of stagnant dissatisfaction and more money <br />
only allows opportunity to get more stuff! Phew!<br />
<br />
I Have Enough!<br />
<br />
Curbing our appetite, not only for excess food, <br />
but also for more and more unnecessary things, <br />
allows for peaceful surroundings.</span><br />
<p$1><span lang="EN">I recall when we prepared our house for sale, </span></p$1></p$1></p$1><br />
<p$1><p$1><p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1><span lang="EN">I cleaned out closets, emptied cupboards,<br />
put pictures away, knick-knacks out of sight, <br />
and cleared off kitchen and bathroom counters. <br />
As our home became more and more empty, <br />
I became more and more relaxed.<br />
By putting everything out of sight, not only was housework easier, <br />
I actually enjoyed doing it! Even now as I write this, <br />
I remember how calm I was. <br />
<br />
I Have Enough!<br />
<br />
So is less, really more?<br />
I think we know the answer to that question.<br />
<br />
We have been in our new home for two years now <br />
and yep you guessed it…We have acquired more new stuff!<br />
More scrap booking stuff; more garage stuff; more kitchen stuff; <br />
more and more new and different stuff! Ugh! <br />
Yes, we fell back into the trap of confusing our wants over our needs.<br />
<br />
“Oh, but I need it!” “No, you want it!” <br />
<br />
I Have Had Enough!<br />
<br />
So what is the solution to the never enough attitude?<br />
<br />
Having that occasional favourite treat or new toy <br />
should be enjoyed, however having them every time, <br />
all the time will make the whole experience become dull. <br />
Not to mention those goodies that we love so much, <br />
will begin to hold us hostage to only the “wanting.”<br />
<br />
Then pretty soon, we eat and shop so much, <br />
that is no longer exciting, no longer pleasurable. <br />
The act of eating and shopping becomes a guilt ridden <br />
mind-numbing habit. Buying new things or eating our <br />
comfort foods all the time, takes the shine off what should <br />
be a wonderful pleasurable experience. Over indulgence <br />
turns enjoyment to boredom real quick. It no longer leaves<br />
us fulfilled. It just leaves us “Full.” Our pleasure gets lost <br />
in the all consuming never ending eating and wanting, <br />
all in the name of trying to re-capture that first blissful hit <br />
of flavour or the high from the very first purchase. <br />
<br />
I Have Enough!<br />
<br />
Getting back to celebrating our meals through daily rituals <br />
and starting to pay attention to the ritual of mealtime is a beginning. <br />
We have lost touch with the gratification that food allows us. <br />
We must begin to show gratitude for this life sustaining miracle. <br />
Have we put aside the daily mealtimes rituals and lost our enjoyment<br />
for food all through a means to be thin? Why, we may have even <br />
made food the enemy, blaming the brownie instead of our over <br />
indulgent choices. Our own appetites are unrecognizable.<br />
True hunger has become a stranger which resides back in <br />
our childhood memories. By celebrating our meals through <br />
ritual, our well being and enjoyment for food will return.<br />
<br />
<br />
Our mind is always saying more!<br />
Our bodies are screaming, I have enough!<br />
<br />
</span><span lang="EN-CA">© H<span style="font-family: Times New Roman;">ε</span>l<span style="font-family: Times New Roman;">ε</span>ɳa Ꮗ<span style="font-family: Times New Roman;">ђ</span><span style="font-family: Times New Roman;">ί</span>Ե<span style="font-family: Times New Roman;">ε</span> </span><br />
<p$1><span lang="EN-CA"></span></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1>Helena Whitehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03022290127423654311noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1414676589001415376.post-23387364605534243782011-01-09T22:45:00.002-05:002011-01-10T08:18:29.797-05:00Chasing Happiness<p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1><p$1><span lang="EN-CA">How many of us are truly happy? Do we find happiness outside of ourselves? What makes you happy? Do we sometimes confuse happiness with things we acquire? Do we spend our entire life chasing after happiness, when all along, we have always had it right within our grasp? </span><br />
<p$1><span lang="EN-CA"><br />
</span><p$1><span lang="EN-CA">Happiness is here right now, just beneath the surface of each of us. It is ever present in nature as she surrounds us with early morning bird songs, as the sun rises to meet the day; or as the rain falls, cleansing the earth then leaving pillow-soft clouds in our sky. Happiness finds us when we let our guard down with uncontrollable laughter, or when we make harmless, spontaneous choices.<br />
<br />
</span><p$1><span lang="EN-CA">Children make those choices all the time. Choices are effortless to children. With no agenda, they react to a what now? matter-of-fact attitude. They meet each day with thoughts of "why not"? They have an in-the-moment, yes we can, go-for-it curious anticipation. They skip, colour, play games, run, sing, shout, and laugh...all with spontaneous enthusiasm. Even when they falter-- they cry, feel the pain, then get back up and carry on. They accept and continue to be “happy”. Children have no timetable, no schedule, no deadline to meet. They just allow what is, living moment to moment, until we teach them otherwise.<br />
<br />
When we lose our childlike, in-the-moment excitement, we move from place to place, project to project, job to job, acquiring all sorts of toys along the way... trying to find the “Holy Grail” of happiness. Can chasing happiness become an imaginary means to an end? Are we misguided into thinking we will find happiness outside ourselves? <br />
<br />
</span><p$1><span lang="EN-CA">Happiness is within our very Being. It’s there now, hidden deep inside, like a secret,<br />
residing alongside our childhood enthusiasm { memories }, not gone but somehow forgotten. What we need is to find the courage to allow happiness back into our present day moments. Let laughter be a conduit to help manifest happiness back into our day-to- day life experiences. We must stop chasing happiness. We simply must choose Happiness.<br />
<br />
<br />
</span><p$1><span lang="EN-CA">“You’ve always had the power, my dear”<br />
~ Glinda The Good Witch of the North <br />
~The Wizard Of Oz<br />
<br />
© H<span style="font-family: Times New Roman;">ε</span>l<span style="font-family: Times New Roman;">ε</span>ɳa <span style="font-family: Times New Roman;">ω</span><span style="font-family: Times New Roman;">ђ</span><span style="font-family: Times New Roman;">ί</span>Ե<span style="font-family: Times New Roman;">ε</span> </span></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1></p$1>Helena Whitehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03022290127423654311noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1414676589001415376.post-59990875582645414212011-01-07T22:24:00.001-05:002011-05-16T08:18:28.134-04:00Leaving A Trace<div style="text-align: center;"><p$1><p$1><p$1><span lang="EN-CA">We seldom ever see beyond our own reside.<br />
The wonders that surround us are too often held inside.</span></p$1></p$1></p$1></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span lang="EN-CA"><br />
Writing creates focus and allows us the space to find our authentic selves. <br />
You can be transformed by the many insights you will discover by keeping a journal. Our unedited script from within is no longer held hostage by mind chatter when we enter the safe haven of journaling. Getting to know yourself through writing is truly a wonderful adventure. A gift to ones self. By filling the empty pages with our innermost opinions, expectations and stories along with the simple details of everyday life, creates focus and connection to life itself. Putting pen to paper takes you on a quest, a journey of the self, that will reveal who you truly are. <br />
<br />
Putting my thoughts down on paper, helps me figure out how I feel and this has helped me make meaningful changes in my life. The written word exposes our deepest desires and our greatest fears. It enables us to see things with clarity, so that we may continue on our way. Everyone can realize this, simple by leaving a trace.<br />
<br />
Helena ~.^</span><span lang="EN-CA"></span></div>Helena Whitehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03022290127423654311noreply@blogger.com2