Small Stones # 27 – 31

#27 — Another year quietly leaves while a new one glides, almost unnoticed, into its place — another year older, but the recipient neither sees nor feels the change.  One year stolen; one year given … in the silent blink of an eye.

#28 — Howling winds blow the white powdery snow in every direction, obliterating sight for the driver while creating a newly-landscaped neighborhood.

#29 — Quiet, contented, joyful gratitude filled the birthday celebrant as she accepted all of her friend’s greetings.  The numbers didn’t cause the joy — the people who sent them did.

#30 — Ear sounds, both echoed and muffled, sharply pierced the inner solitude of her head, sending thoughts of panicked uncertainty as to what suddenly stole normalcy.

#31 — Thirty-one snippets of literary creativity … A tinge of regret marries a taste of accomplishment at the ending of a writing challenge that might become the beginning of a way of life.

Peace,
Kathy Marie

Small Stones #19 – 26

#19 — Piles of little slips of paper, with scribbled internet addresses and passwords haphazardly decorating them, beg for organized attention.

#20 — Literary-award type thoughts come to the forefront of the mind, JUST within reach of the pen, only to quickly fade just as pen meets paper, devilishly teasing the author.

#21 — She stood there, proudly surveying the matching gift bags and tags she had lovingly created for the recipients, wondering why creativity chose NOW to burst forth right in front of her after years of searching and trying to coax it to join her journey.

#22 — The cards arrived early to honor her special day and to remind her of advancing age …  she met them with smiles and joy and gratitude — at last, she is content and accepting and appreciative of age.

#23 — Days of drought in the idea department suddenly give way to a storm hard to keep up with.

#24 — The onlooker marveled at the precariously lopsided pile of containers that, somehow, in spite of the laws of gravity, sturdily maintained their place.

#25 — Silence speaks in the midst of thunderous confusion to lead her to calmness and reason.

#26 — Food, joyful laughter, memories and celebration shared among friends and family — natural tranquilizers which negate the need for a medicine cabinet.

Peace,

Kathy Marie

 

 

 

 

 

Small Stones #12 – 18

Playing catch up with small stones challenge today — finally getting the hang of “shorter” stones, but I really do think my longer ones were more descriptive and full of richer writing:

#12 — The crumpled, white puffy paper cloths overflowing from the waste basket indicated someone in the house was suffering from a cold.

#13 — Lights on during dreary daylight … invisible misting dampening sidewalks … the forecast of ice and snow tomorrow … winter has taken hold and is reluctant to release it’s grip.

#14 — Tray after tray … drawer after drawer … trinkets and tags, decorations and dies … beckoning the onlooker to crafter’s heaven.

#15 — Her head hurt from the strain of obsessively focusing on creative ideas … until she realized that trapped creativity can not be forcibly released by anything other than the patient distraction of ignoring.

#16 — On the precipice, ready to leap … then, she stops — is she ready to step outside the box, color outside the lines and go to those mysterious unknown places — is she ready for the uncertainty?

#17 — The computer dings … the phone sings … the doorbell rings — which does she answer?  She quietly sips her coffee, contented smile upon her face, reveling in the peace of the moment of her refusal.

#18 — Where did all the richness and description go?  Only ordinary, common, unexciting words spew forth today.  Maybe, sometime, ordinary is ok.

Peace,
Kathy Marie

Small Stones #7 – 11

# 7:  The once thick pristine white blanket is now thinned and soiled beyond hope of restoration.  Age is causing it to become holey as it quickly fades away.  After a brief, warm respite, cold will return and nature will replenish the grass’s green mantle with a fresh blanket of pure white.

#8:  The sense of freedom at releasing long-imprisoned creativity is sometimes overwhelming, but exhilarating at the same time.

#9:  The progressive march of Alzheimers had forced them to turn a deaf ear to the gentle, once familiar voices of family and friends.  Appearing to be totally non-responsive, all efforts to communicate failed in every aspect but one.  Voices of visiting choral groups echoed throughout the room filled with wheelchairs and gurneys occupied by seemingly lifeless bodies who now managed an ever so slight hint of a smile — whose eyes suddenly appeared to twinkle, again, ever so slightly — whose lips, unsuccessfully, weakly attempted to mouth the once familiar words.  Music does truly stir and awaken the soul!

#10:  She hastily entered the church doors, intent upon her mission to light a few candles and rattle off a quick prayer in the only three minutes she had available to say hi to God.  Suddenly, the breathtaking red, gold and green of an altar filled with trees and poinsettias celebrating the joy of the nativity on the right stopped her ever so briefly in her tracks.  She was in awe as if seeing it for the first time, not the 5th or 6th time in two weeks.  Though she didn’t linger, the snapshot her mind caught in that second will remain with her until the season is celebrated again next year.

#11:  The intruding sound of a ringing phone either annoys, or brings joy, depending upon whom Caller ID says is calling.

Peace,
Kathy Marie

Stones

I am now fascinated by stones.  Say the word stones and the first images that come to mind are the geological rock pieces found in the great outdoors — the pebbles we threw or kicked as kids, the decorative stones in a garden/landscaping setting, the rock collectors gem, the crushed stone used as foundation upon which to cement a sidewalk …

However, my new preoccupation is a stone of a different kind  — a small stone — a “writing” stone.  Looking for ideas to once again jumpstart my writing passion for the new year, I stumbled across the concept of “small stones” as a daily writing challenge.  The idea of writing a small stone is to simply observe something in the world around you and note it in a brief descriptive written statement, the length of which can be a few words to a few sentences.  How simple is that?!  Surely, I can  find a few minutes each day to write a few words or sentences — thus satisfying my self-imposed daily writing requirement.  Joining an online group to hold myself accountable, I’ve started out gung ho, successfully writing and publishing each day. 

But, what I’ve gained from the daily exercise is more than creating a new habit, or just going through the motions to get something on paper for the purpose of crossing one more item off that day’s to-do list.  The process of seeking something to write about has sparked my awareness of the world around me — stopping to smell the roses as they say.  It has also awakened my internal creative and descriptive writing forces — the ones which have been buried for so long and struggled so hard to escape.

And, in the process, I’ve learned that the outdoor stone and the written stone have much in common.  Like their geological counterparts, my small stones can be kicked around until perfected or simply thrown out in the trash.  They can be used to decorate a wall, enhance a homemade card or enrich another one of my written creations.  The gems can be collected and used as the solid foundation for a future writing piece.

So, why don’t you join me in kicking a few stones around? 

Peace,
Kathy Marie

This post originally published at Retired With Grace.
I publish my small stones here.
To learn more about small stones, check out this website.

Small Stones #6

Unlike the bitter cold of previous days, the near freezing temps had warmed the snow enough to make it hard-packed, heavy and wet — much harder to remove than she originally thought.  Tempted to give up, she took one final look at the painfully bending boughs of once beautiful summer bushes, crushed and possibly breaking under the weight of nature’s winter force.  So, she trudged on — letting loose with an “all the strength within me” blow zeroing in on one huge pack of dirty white.  The grateful-to-be-released boughs immediately jumped up with such force, slapping her face and head with a blinding, cold, wet mass of white.  Recovering from the shock, she proudly surveyed the now upright boughs, and laughed heartily — a victorious celebratory laugh.

Peace,
Kathy Marie

Small Stone #5

The endless annoying off-key whirring sound of shredding was worth listening to when she realized the once overwhelming pile of papers had been reduced to a handful.  Decluttering was fun after all!

Peace,
Kathy Marie