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"emotion"

Aha! Moment Comes to Winston Salem



Apparently the folks over at Mutual of Omaha' Aha Moment campaign are coming to Winston-Salem, NC in June 2011. At least two of us local bloggers have been contacted and asked to participate. So, I guess I'll be joining Kristen over at fourhensandarooster  in the Aha Moment Air Stream to share my Aha Moment - which won't be anywhere near as good as hers...

After I received the email invitation, I wrote back and asked what 'specifically' interested them in hearing from me. They pointed me to a single line in the bio of my website:  "...this stuck out to me - 'Kim Williams believes that who we are begins with what we believe and what we believe is created by what we do every day.'"


Truth is, there is a great deal of life behind those words - maybe even something worth sharing.

Intimate Musings

You are dancing again.

Yes.

Have you missed it?

The dancing?

Yes.

Yes, but I have missed other things more.

Really? What?

I have missed the attentive look on your face as you treasure me.

Treasure you? That is a bit assumptive of you.

Perhaps, but I see it tonight in your eyes.

You annoy me sometimes with you self importance.

I'm not so assured, so confident about most things. But, I know you.

Indeed you do.

Dance with me.

I already am.

Do you love me?

Always.

I'm glad.

So am I, eventhough it keeps me forever troubled.

Troubled?

Perhaps unsettled would be a better word.

If you were not unsettled by me, you would be worthless, you know.

Yes, and sometimes I get tired of the desire, the longing, the …

Amusement?

You make me smile.

I make you laugh.

And dance.

I dance for you.

Thank you.

You make me laugh.


I know. I know. Dance.


Back Yard Burger Discounts...Revealed



Over the last month, I've eaten at the local Back Yard Burger 3-4 times. I've been waited on by the same, polite young man, and each time I've notice that he ended my transaction by swiping a card through the reader. He would then hit a few keys and a 10% discount would be applied. I kept thinking he had made a mistake or they were running some kind of special - then last night it hit me.

He's giving me a senior citizen's discount.

Maybe I'll shave the beard...or just claim proudly Old Guys Rule!

Real Men Don't - Really

In 1985, at a time when society was struggling with gender based issues and books like "Why Men Are The Way They Are" and "The Hazards of Being Male" were attempting to lead men (and women) in another direction - I wrote the following story.

“The Land of The Nams and The Nims”

Once, long ago, in a far away land there lived an odd group of people. They lived much the way we do, eating, sleeping, playing and such things, but in this land there where two types of people, the Nams and the Nims. Oddly enough, the only difference between the Nams and the Nims was a simple steel plate.

You see, when a new child was born, it was decided if that child would be a Nam or a Nim. The Nams were the rulers. They made all of the important decisions, did all of the hard work and were served by the Nims. Both the Nams and the Nims where born exactly alike, small hands, round hairless faces, big brown eyes and most importantly, with a small hole in their chest, right over there heart. It was a dangerous hole, because, as every Nam knew, if anyone touched your heart, you would surely die. Thus, those that were picked to be Nams had a steel plate fixed to their bones over their heart hole. This made it safe for them to rule, of course,”

“On one day, a young Nam named Ned was following the instruction of his teacher. ‘Remember, Ned,’ he said with a strong huffy voice, ‘Your job will be very important and you must always remember to hold your head high and work hard.’ ‘Yes, sir,’ the young Nam replied. As they walked down the hall, two young Nims passed them and quickly entered a room off the hallway, laughing as they went. “What are they doing in there,” Ned asked? “Just silly Nim stuff, cooking, cleaning… Don’t worry about,” grunted the teacher. At that moment another Nam ran up, “Master Teacher,” the young Nam excitedly announced, “there is trouble in the outer garden! A dragon I believe!” Well, before Ned knew what happened, the teacher and the messenger had left Ned there, standing alone in the hall. “Figures,” Ned thought, “I miss everything.” Ned turned to head back down the hall to the small room he kept, when Ned passed the door the young Nims had entered and heard them laughing again. Then Ned had a thought, a clever little thought. “I bet I can find out what they are doing,” Ned reasoned. Without another thought, Ned ran down the hall to the boiler room and slipped inside. Making sure no one had followed; Ned closed the door, and grabbing a chair, the young Nam climb up and into an air ventilation pipe. Ned knew the way, and soon had crawled into the pipe directly back to the Nim room and was peering down the vent at them. Teacher was right, they were cleaning, washing dishes, and stacking towels, and all the while, they would laugh and giggle with each other. Ned was a little disappointed, but figured that The Master was right. Nims were silly and less interesting than Nams. “It was good to be a Nam. It is good to rule,” Ned thought, and touched the plate over Ned's chest proudly and started to slowly crawl back down the pipe. Then Ned heard a scream come from the room below. Ned looked quickly. One of the small Nims had been hurt. It looked like a tray had fallen and hit its head, cutting the Nim's face. The small Nim knelt to the floor and cried. Then Ned saw the most peculiar thing. The older Nims moved close  and gathered around  in a circle. One by one, they reached out to the Nim and, to Ned's disbelief, touched the Nim's heart hole. Ned gasped. “They are going to kill...” Ned's mind raced, “What should I do?” But, the little Nim did not die. Instead, as each one touched the heart hole heart, the Nim began to feel better. The young Nim stopped crying, stopped bleeding and soon they were all laughing and singing again.

Ned looked down at the steel plate that separated the heart from all others, and wondered...

Her Single Tear Traced a Trail

Before she quickly brushed it aside, her single tear drop traced a trail - like a silver scalpel slicing so quickly through flesh that the very bone is revealed before blood begins to rush through the wound - such was this tear - a momentary revealing that she cared too much, that her need was too great and that her hope for recognition, salvation actually, would not come. Not tonight.

A Poem about Change - Falling Away



Falling Away

it is the result of many things
sometimes
working hard
perfect coincidence
circumstance

everything is done and set
complete
in line
as it should be
fixed

time passes and no attention is given to it
we know
it is well
done
assuredly complete

then one day you notice it
leaning
precariously
off center
falling
away from you

then it is gone
completely

Super Moon Creates Personal First



Today ended with the sun setting undramatically below the western horizon, covered by dense dark clouds hiding all but a momentary brush of the palest rose. In my years I have seen more beautiful sunsets. As soon  as this nonevent concluded, I poised for a life time first.Turning 180 degrees, toward the eastern sky, I stood watching, waiting.

The pier at Garden City, SC has been a haunt of mine for many years. I grew up a few miles from this spot and more recently I visit here when traveling 'home' to see my parents. I've passed many mornings sipping coffee and watching the day begin here, as those gathering to fish and sun begin their day. Tonight the wind is brisk and the crowd thin on Garden City Pier. Those of us who have come to brave a cool evening have done so unseasonably early - normally waiting for the warmer nights of late spring and summer for an evening walk upon the pier. But tonight all the news is a buzz, and even NASA is talking about the Super Moon, This night marks a once every 18 years event when the moon's orbit passes closest tot he earth and is in full reveal.

We stood and faced the east as she appeared, at first a transparent sphere of faint hues, resting perfectly upon the farthest horizon of the sea. As if creeping upward the moon began to grow brighter and in minutes that passed like sleepy thoughts, soon beamed full force and brilliance, casting a road of light along the sea - like an orange jelled spot light upon a stage. And with that, I added another first to my life.

Tonight I watched the moon rise for the first time.

In My Hands - A poem about the passing of time

in my hands

in my hands
gentle and small
wonder and delight
an ebbing of laughter and stress

in my hands
the future rests
tasks to be learned
suprises of nature and mind

in my hands
a bundle of memories
my daughter's squirming
my son's gentle dreams

in my hands
vessel of potential
grasping for the next embrace
of that gift
offered daily

to my hands

Ever Get Bored?

Once I understand, I get disinterested.

My mind races beneath the wonderful burden of new, intense information. I twist my thoughts around new ideas, run breathless through the virgin concepts and visions of new horizons. Paradise found. Dreams realized, hopes born anew, belief becomes faith and I know that this is the place, the existence that I have sought.

Then.

Novelty becomes familiar, fresh deeds routine, and the discipline (oh, the horror of that word) mundane. I long to dance among the cliffs, and cast my dreams once more upon the clouds. If not for the tenuous sanity that my program of spiritual growth and recovery affords me, I'd be off chasing sprites and fantasies deep in the realm of Hades, losing my sanity and my soul, again.

I must remember, as we all must, that desire without discipline leads to disappointment and disillusionment.  I will be vigilant and grow more serene, eventhough I scream to release passionate and perilous specters - for their time will come again, soon enough.

Out of Gas

The sputter can surprise us
Running wide ass open
Taking no prisoners
Casting laughter like caution
To the wind
Blowing up a storm of passionate dreams
And friends cheering us on

The road turns, twisting
Thought and perceptions
Into unrecognizable shards
Broken, poured out, spilled
Across memories of tomorrow’s
Dreamers awake
When the fuel of creation
Runs dry

Thus fools rush in
Where angels fear to tread
And shout
"Fill’er UP!"