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Unbound by Time or Place

The internet is incredible. This tool allows anyone to be unbound by culture or the time they happen to be born in.

I am able to research other time periods and cultures from my living room and dive into the sounds of the 50’s while simultaneously enjoying the aesthetic of kimono fabric.

As this blog is both a personal growth platform for myself where I can build back the practice of writing, I also see this internet tool as a way to simply share what I love.

I didn’t know I had been collecting Philosophical Art until writing the respective post about the Crack Pot’s Opus brought that out of my subconscious. (This power to transfer that from the subconscious into the consciousness is something I enjoy about writing. I love learning about what I know that I didn’t know.)

I, therefore, wish to share what suppose it would be an anthology of all things beautiful, lovely, and or just splendid. Of course, what is shared is going to be beautiful, lovely, and splendid according to my individual filter. I cannot label something as such with someone else’s definition.

To illustrate, I half believe in the phrase “beauty is in the eye of the beholder.” I believe this phrase in the realm of tastes, but I believe the realm of tastes to be inside a larger intrinsic spiritual property that manifest, incarnates and transcends into our world. This property has real requirements to it.

There is an is, but what that is is is hard to say. The closest I can come to it in words is only long-winded odes that are more examples than an actual definition.

Yet, I will dance around the definition with examples hoping that in doing so the connotations will bring me to a denotation. Hopefully, the exemplars will help me define such a Virtue.

I adore the Virtues as I believe they are the identifiable characteristics of God. When I see it, I know. I feel God, but I also know that not all operate on the same frequency as I do (the realm of taste.)

I am curious to meet others who do see God’s transcendence through the same channels of beauty as I.

What are you like? Are we spiritual bosom friend? I want to use this wonderful internet tool to connect with others.

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Grace = I can wear heals!

I haven’t worn heels in over a decade.

For an American woman, I am not that tall. According to a quick and totally reliable Google search, I am exactly the national average of 163 cm (approx. 5 feet and 4 inches). However, this compared to the same extraordinarily scholarly quick Google search, the average Japanese woman is 158 cm (approx. 5 feet, 2 inches), which means that I am usually one of the tallest women in the room.

This has been my experience, and as I happen to also be Caucasian, standing out,
(pun intended) even more than I naturally do, is something I have tried to avoid. (Perhaps I should mention I live in Japan)

This has led to a self-imposed rule I created in high school of “no heals.”

However, I really like heels. I like the way they make me feel when I walk. I like their empowering click. I like the chic professional dose they add to my step and posture, and intern my mood.

Therefore, as this is the self-imposed “Year of Grace,” I am superimposing my old rule and going to give these kicks a try.

Literary Mode: Expository |Author’s Purpose: To Express| Flesch Reading Ease: 66.82

Works Cited

“Average Human Height by Country.” Wikipedia, Wikimedia Foundation, 28 Jan. 2020, en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Average_human_height_by_country#cite_note-OECD-20.

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My Son Who

This poem is inspired and modeled after the poem Abuelito Who by Sandra Cineros.
https://mrsbraman.files.wordpress.com/2013/02/sandra-cisneros.pdf

My son who is Japanese
My son who is American
Who is both and neither, because he is himself
Mommy`s treasure whose hair is rabbit-silk
Whose uncle nicknamed him Tater and it stuck, so now he’s my little Tater Tot and Potato too
Whose laugh is bright and sparkles
Who has his daddy’s oriental eyes and surprisingly mommy’s occidental coloring
Seeing me in the doorway, clambers over, mouth wide in endearing honest elation
And whines until I pick him up because his gums hurt
Who has one tooth
Who steals my sleep but gives me the drive to get up again and again and yet again
Who is the reason I work and the reason I want to be home
Who’s my shadow and whose snow-tread-crunch like diaper is my soundtrack
Talks with “Ba`s” and “Woo who uh`s,” but communicates with his eyes
My son who was in my body
Who will be in my arms tonight,
Is often on my mind
And always in my heart
My son who is loved

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Alchemy

I feed on ideas, specifically my souls does. I gain so much energy from endless scrolling through Pinterest gathering filling inspiration.

I find myself stuck in the ideas though. I want to take everything that my soul has been consuming and turn it into really, to click that I tried this button.
From experiences past, I know that once an idea is manifested through work, care, and creativity the virtue of pride (the healthy kind) descends and turns the ecstasy filled meal into wholesome soul nutrition. Peace is the resonating note that I push back from the table with.

It is the place in between the inspiration and the creation that I struggle: the process. I do not enjoy it and this zoomed out into a larger scale in my life because life’s journey is the destination.

As I am aware, I wish to change, but I do not know how. I am constantly sucked back into my default subconsciously, to become aware again and again to try and remedy this existential dilemma.

I am seeking advise. How do I enjoy the alchemy of changing and idea into really and how do I enjoy the destination’s journey. Please teach me how to enjoy the alchemy.