Sharing Peace with the World: Ganga Library

I have been VERY busy.  In fact, I've hardly posted here at all recently.  But I've got what is probably one of the best excuses possible: God is enriching my life, and that means that there are more ways to be useful.

Of the projects I'm engaged in at the moment, one deals directly with children's literature.  I have been given the OK to begin development of a children's section of the online Ganga Library.  This multilingual, non profit organization is dedicated to providing information about Alfred Nobel and the laureates of his Peace Prize.  While still in its beginning stages, the interactive library already has dozens of biographies, video links, and organized categories to help users in finding the information they need.  The organization is headed by several notable individuals, including its director, Dr. R.V. Nagaveni M.D., M.S..  

Up until now, most of the information the library provides has been written for an audience of educated adults.  But that will change when I add a large collection of child-friendly content.  By the time I'm done, kids, teachers, and the general public will have a really great source of information that is accessible to most readers, especially the smaller ones.

Check back for updates on this awesome site!

Life From Now On

Merely presenting a collection of seemingly coherent words is not what I do.  But, I'm no ordinary writer. Rather, I'm a human who shares ideas via the written word, and sometimes through other forms of media.  

Writing has been a joy of my life since I was old enough to use a crayon.  At long last, I am now stepping out into the world of freelance writing full-time.  That's right: my days will be dedicated to creating meaningful entities out of text and the emotions and thoughts of my readers and clients.

It's quite a task, but it suits me quite well. My interests include learning about everything I can wrap my mind around, especially exploring the dimensions in which I've found myself existing.  It is the overwhelmingly inspiring concepts I find during these explorations which drive me to expression.  

May your life benefit from my every communicative act.

Puppy Chow Enthusiast

Writers are masters of encapsulation.  Especially in poetry, the economy of words is all at the artist's disposal; and with these alone, they make an entire universe of thought into a digestible piece of literature.

From what I have read so far, Bruce Goldstein has taken a great deal of my own reality - my struggles and my victories - and poured it onto paper before sandwiching it between two hard covers.

Just a short time ago, I found myself almost totally unable to do what I do best: write.  Despite medicine and past attempts at therapy, I was still fighting against severe depression and mental chaos. But in an answer to prayer, I received a miraculous gift which seems to have turned my life around for the better.

I was given a dog.

After scouring Craigslist, I was given the opportunity to handpick what was left of a litter of lab mixes.  It was an easy pick.  Despite some obvious timidity, one particular female walked right up to me.  I picked her up and didn't put her down again until I was setting her down in my lap for the trip home.

We're slowly becoming a symbiotic pair.

A World Wide Screen

I adore nature, but I recently took my tablet with me on a fishing trip. I did. I admit it. I really thought I'd get some use out of it, and planned to read while waiting for fish to bite.  But before my lured line could even settle on the bottom of the port, my eyes began to slowly open up to a continuously unfolding narrative. It's unclear which parts of my own observations would have rendered this nonfiction masterpiece as being fictional, and even less clear as to the mode of fiction that would be entailed.

The characters included a tiny sea turtle wandering alone in the blue-green abyss, a school of dolphins distant enough to look like shadows piercing the surface, and the rainbow of humans gathered for the purpose of celebrating creation.

It started millenia ago, but was written well enough that I could follow along, knowing that I wouldn't witness the end.

This was all displayed above the widest screen imaginable for earth, though also constant was the static of millions of tiny ripples across its ever-changing surface.  

God is truly a Master director.

The Daily Gloom Cast: Forecasting Today's Trials

I'm happy to say that one of my latest blogs, The Daily Gloom Cast, benefits more than just readers.  It also helps me to keep a positive perspective by keeping my eyes wide open for the tiniest spark within the thickest, stinkiest pits of gloom.

The purpose of The Daily Gloom Cast is to entertain readers with cheerful and strategic examinations of life's less-than-pleasant pieces. Life can sometimes feel like it's taking place in a dark hole.  I wanted to give people a kind of flashlight, or at least a flint spark.  I'm always worrying about people committing suicide and that sort of thing, for some reason. So, since unemployment tends to offer one plenty of time, I decided to begin yet another blog.  I envisioned a collection of witty and uplifting words that would remind people that solutions to problems (or at least cushioning from the blows) is possible.  I suppose it's due to my own struggles in life that offering hope and inspiration to others is so important to me.  My own bruises that I'd received while all facets of life played monkey-in-the-middle with me, were finally beginning to heal.  I was believing that I could actually put words together in a manner that people enjoy being exposed to. The Daily Gloom Cast was going to rock!!!

But life never stops playing monkey-in-the-middle until we're permanently taken out of the game.  When my aunt died on January 1st, 2014, it was unexpected and heartbreaking.  I didn't even want to use the energy it took to dry my own tears; so, exerting even more energy by tap-tapping away at a keyboard seemed even less inviting for a little while.  I was in need of the creation I had yet to build.

God held me.  Family supported me.  Friends loved me.  My sudden bursts of crying began to dissipate.  At last, I was ready to put my hands to the pen/keyboard once again.  The result was a post entitled, "Today's Forecast: Unpredictable."

The words that came out were calming, soothing.  They scratched an itch I hadn't been able to accurately perceive prior to unleashing the lines that I was able to share.  I detailed the horror of my experience as well as the loveliness that persisted during the worst parts.  My greatest hope is that it helps someone else.

Until I find out that it has (and even if I know think it may have), I'll keep throwing them out, sending them off like a host of sky lanterns until the world glow's just a little brighter.

Getting Knocked Up...and Down

(Photo Credit: www.VinceCarters.com)

This past Friday night, I had the joy of reinforcing my belief in vital practice while visiting what is quickly becoming my favorite restaurant.

Vince Carter's, owned and operated by the NBA player, sits just after the I-95 exit onto LPGA Boulevard in Daytona Beach, Florida.  It's an absolute culinary gem.  Every component of the dining experience here, from the illustrious atmosphere to the ambrosial cuisine, is a celebration of all things upscale; everything, that is, but the price.  While some of the dishes are a bit costly (I think the Saffron-infused Lobster Risotto is $34, and the New Zeland Lamp Chops are $29 ), most are within the range of something you'd find at Chili's or Applebee's.  Additionally, the staff is as professional, considerate, and delightful as one could hope for.  Overall, Vince Carter's offers diners a captivating experience.

What I can't get over is the fact that we can always get a table...as soon as we come in.  So far, each time we've been, we were some of the only, if not the only patrons enjoying the place.  That's right: we were once the only people there who weren't employed there.  Within the entire stone-sheathed edifice.  The elite sports bar, the beautifully embellished dining room, and the piano bar were empty except for myself and those in my tiny party.

(Photo Credit: www.VinceCarters.com)

So what's the deal?  A quick bit of questioning the locals provided an interesting conclusion.  It can be summed up in one woman's response: "I heard it they food ain't good."  Yep. She'd heard some negative commentary about what would have been an otherwise appealing addition to her own community.  Rather than forming her own opinion, she had short-changed herself by limiting her knowledge of the business to the shallow palate of an associate.  What if I'd done this?  My life would be missing Pasta Vinsanity, a dish which the menu describes as "Portabella mushroom, kalamata olives, plum tomato, red peppers, green peppers, green onions and garlic sauteed in olive oil tossed with Capellini pasta and Feta cheese."  I describe it as my newest personal love interest.

(Photo Credit: www.UrbanSpoon.com)

I wonder how many other ways this woman has gotten knocked up and down?  Not an act of promiscuity, getting "knocked" is also a term used to describe having one's opinion influenced negatively or positively. Even better than an official Oxford Dictionary definition, it's a Retinna Bell definition: the process of one's opinion regarding a specific entity being tainted due to another's knocking of that entity.  In most cases, one minor person's opinion isn't usually enough to sway another viewpoint entirely.  But it does happen quite frequently in day-to-day life, especially when the outside opinion comes from a valued source.   It's easy to allow one's mind to be put off by the negative comments of others.  This can happen to anyone, and it's not even limited to food.

How many times has your first impression of a place been colored by the negative things you've heard about it?  Think about it.  You enter the foyer of negatively noted establishment, and the minor imperfections in the floor times become hideous blemishes as opposed to visual stimulation that breeds aesthetic character.  Even worse, how many times have your first thoughts about another person been totally preformed by the negative comments and views of another.  While this woman's opinion of a restaurant is just one instance of such a phenomenon, it is wide-spread socially-catalyzed pattern in many different facets of existence.

Further examination poses the question as to whether or not it is even possible for an individual human being to refrain from being knocked in some way either up (positively) or down (negatively).  The answer is simple: nope.  It is practically impossible for any human being with the capacity for receiving and processing input from the outside world to be entirely unaffected by it. We are affected by the world around us, and we're affected all the time.  In everything from fonts and colors to the vibrations of sounds from far away, our minds are always manipulating everything we perceive and attempting to make us functional within the chaos. It is a phenomenon that is clearly seen in nature.  In the same manner that every water molecule is at least partially affected by every within a river, and the fact that every star is gravitationally affected by every other, so too are human beings all affected by one another in at least one way.  But an entity is affected most by those which are closest to it.

I want to fill my life with positive, yet realistic people.  I want to do all that I can to ensure that all of the input I receive can be used to create out put that will benefit their life of each individual to whom I am connected.

The Poison of Perfectionism

Earlier today, I had the painful pleasure of absorbing the third chapter of Anne Lamott's Bird by Bird.  It's entitled "Perfectionism," an incredibly sensitive subject for me.  I'm beginning to believe that it's almost too much for me.  This woman has been peeling scabs, layer by painful layer, away from the same wound that I've chained myself at death's "welcome" mat to forget.  My emotions were so strong that I literally considered writing her a letter that shared with Ms. Lamott how much I hated her.  But I don't.  Additionally, the things she says are absolutely true.  After some reflection, I realize that I somehow managed to attach my own value to how close I've been able to achieve perfection.  This has been both crippling and self-defeating.

My inner being is riddled with self-loathing and expectations for absolute failure.  Throughout the years, the pain from these holes has become a comfort in its familiarity.  Honestly, I mean, the pain feels like home, the place I've always been and where I most belong.  It feels tried and true.  It's who I am.  So wrenching myself from its loopy embrace seems a more tedious task than I'm willing to engage in.  I mean, this pain isn't a simple snakelike pain, one long slender terror to unravel.  Rather, it's much more similar to being entangled within the venomous, fanged-sucker laced tentacles of Cthullu.  Its fanged suckers are locked, their serrated tips so deep within me that to rip them away is to rip off chunks of myself. 

Practically anyone reading this understands, at least to some degree, the incredibly difficult and potentially life-threatening task that lies before me.  But I am clenching my teeth in desperate faith that the end result is going to be worth every whimper, every stumble, and every tear I must endure to reach it.