Photo 101 ~ #3 water

washing dishes the old fashion way - by hand with a dish rag

washing dishes the old fashion way – by hand with a dish rag

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Photo 101 ~ #2 street

Long Road Home - Fred J. Bourgeois, III

  Long Road Home – Fred J. Bourgeois, III 

growing up we did not have streets….we had roads

Posted in Photo, psychology | Tagged | 3 Comments

Photo 101 ~ #1 Home

My Mother loved flowers therefore flowers represent Mother and her lovely yard.

My Mother loved flowers therefore flowers represent Mother and her lovely yard, and home.

Posted in psychology | Tagged , | 4 Comments

Shame, Guilt, Regrets and other Trolls under the Bridge called Life

Dear Kathy writes beautiful essays; provocative thoughts that one can chew on, muse about the meaning and how it might bring about change in their life if put into play.

I write.

Some of my thoughts are thus:

without guilt there are no regrets….no opportunity to ponder how to not only forgive yourself but also how to ask for forgiveness.

without shame to hide then what can you worry about?

All you have done is to keep making this shamefully ultra bad secret a troll under your exterior or bridge of life.

i am ashamed of many things I have done; yes, I feel guilt, remorse….what to do?

if I should reveal myself to the person I feel I have desecrated would they remember the same incident as I do? Would their truth be different from mine. What if they did not want to remember? What if they did not want to forgive?

then there is the inevitable depression while you ponder how to “fix” it.

what to do? More shame at failing, more guilt, more regrets, the never ending cycle.

therefore, I admit what I have done, apologize and quietly murmur to myself as I tromp over the bridge, “that ship has sailed,”

Posted in psychology | 16 Comments

Would We Want To Be Perfect?

What would we all do if we were all perfect in a perfect world?

Do we all then look alike?

there would be no need then except for one hairdresser;

one clothing store

no need for architects

cookie cuter houses

same landscapes

same cars

all perfect.

one religion

one political party

all perfect.

no murders

no drug addicts

no need for counselors

or attorneys

we are all perfect!

What a boring world that would be if we did not have the misfits, the outliers, the prisons, the crooked politicians, the shame that we were born into a none perfect family, world. Not to have a choice even when we make bad choices; not to be confused and lonely at times…shaping us into better selves of the unself.

We talk of ego…then we must talk of id, the child in all of us. However it is the superego that pushes us to dream of reaching our fullest potential; to become selfactualized. We are so sure we must improve; what if there were no need to be anything but what we are at the one moment we know we have to live…the moment we are in…the next is not a given.


We are born with that “crack” , that imperfection so that life would have meaning and choices. Our minds grow from using the brain cells, by creating, and by wondering what comes next and what is right for us.

Are we all broken? Yes, to some extent. Can we  “fix” it? Not to  perfection because we need that crack to peer through to the next great opportunity to make different choices and different worlds.

Posted in Share my ordinary world | 8 Comments

Fitting the Pieces Together

In a rage, you fling the precious, family heirloom pottery vase into the soot filled fireplace. Standing, horrified at your action as well as the pent-up rage, you scramble to your knees poking your head into the fireplace; withdrawing; going to find the flashlight with the brightest beam; going back with a soft dish towel, white, and begin to slowly pick up the pieces…bigger ones first and then gathering the slivers that will undoubtedly fill in the cracks and make the piece almost, almost the perfect original.

The first big pieces fit together and a sense of relief washes over you soothing the depravity of your rage. The pieces mate precisely. As in life, it is too soon for the imperfections to begin to slowly but surely begin to appear.

The smaller pieces take longer and do not fit, leaving small sharp edges. You take the uneven pieces off and try again; it is to no avail. Holding the vase up to the light you see the sunlight filtering through the minute’ cracks; the imperfections that would forever mar the memory of a perfect vase.

You believe that you can live with the cracks, after all, they add character, you say silently to yourself….you know that the elegant lines of that family piece will never be the same; yet you continue to try to fit the slivers into the smallest of spaces, distorting the overall fit maybe by a thousandth of an inch, just enough for the distortion to remind you of your actions that caused this herculean effort to restore the precious family vase that had been entrusted to you for safe keeping.

All those angles; all that thin white glue; forcing you to realize that these approximations and compromises you put into shoring up the shattered vase, that this was like the rest of your life…once broken, fitting the pieces back together is only an approximation of what might have been had you not thrown a precious part of your life away in a fit of rage.

Posted in psychology, Wisdom | 6 Comments


The deeper that sorrow carves into your being, the more joy you can contain.


Posted in quote | 2 Comments