Let’s Make Trinkets Out of Horrors and Armor Out of Bliss

The sunrise is going to find me on my way to see… one more specialist—a scary one. When I next write you (or maybe a bit later *we know how these things go*), my life will be unchanged or complicated enough to force me to make all sorts of wild readjustments. Regardless of what happens in the next 13 hours, I will continue working on the creation of a place where we can be human together. This sounds a bit strange out of context, doesn’t it? Well… the following bit, which I shared on Facebook, might clarify things:

I’ve been talking to friends—from the blogosphere, from the hospital, some belong to both circles (because they’re dealing with chronic ailments or are suffering from being human… in a time when having a humane heart means hurting a lot).

Common themes seem to rule these conversations: “I feel lonely, Magaly” and “I feel guilty for whining about my pain, when children haven’t seen their parents in weeks” and “I feel wretched for worrying about my child getting into a better school when many children have no food or can even dream about a proper education” and “I must be a monster for caring about my weight when people risk imprisonment (and worse) to get their bodies into countries where they are not wanted”…

I believe anything that keeps us from feeling healthy of mind and body is a big problem that affects all. I believe that worrying about (what some might consider) the small things, while also keeping in mind the big things, is one of the characteristics that makes us human. I have never believed that wanting to be our best selves (in flesh and spirit) is something that we need to be forgiven for. These days, I find myself wanting to use words (my superpower) to spread that belief to anyone who wants it or needs it.

I’m not sure how to go about it, but I’m working on it…

…and when the time comes, when I find a way to create a space where we can explore (and battle) small and big horrors, I hope you join in. Because I believe that once we can look at our minds and bodies and delight in what we see, then there is nothing we can’t face… and, perhaps, even conquer.

While I’m gone, while I wait… I shall plan and plot and shape a space for us, a spot where we can share and celebrate everything we are—the good, the great, the terrible… a cyber-circle where we can take small giant steps towards a Self we can kiss on the mouth while thinking, You’re awesome.

If you wish, you can join the planning and plotting and shaping, too. Just share 1 or 3 or 13 things you’ve always wanted to work on, to discuss, to make better, to dream real… in the company of likeminded people.

I’m considering all sorts of topics: working towards better eating habits, exploring different ways to get ourselves out of bed on days when the task seems to exist between no way and impossible, finishing projects we’ve been working on for ages and ages and ages, finding our waists…

I can’t say that every suggestion will become part of the event exactly as presented, but I promise to do my best to incorporate all (and let’s face it, my best is freaking fantastic… only surpassed by my unbeatable modesty).

Go ahead, my Wicked Luvs. Tell me about those rough stones you want to polish (or wish to learn to love exactly as they are). Let’s find ways to make trinkets out of horrors and armor out of bliss. Together, we can… and will.

 

Carnival of Bones, by Shelle Kennedy
When life rips your heart out of your chest,
make something useful (even fun) out of it.

From Blackout Poem Bit to Flash Fiction, 1

Lately, I’ve been yearning for a flash fiction prompt that does for storytelling what Poets United and the Imaginary Garden with Real Toads do for poetry. If my medical situation wasn’t as shaky as it currently is, I would’ve probably tried to bring a few short story writers together and start something. Alas, that’s not the case; however, keeping in mind that words help those who write them, I’ve decided to self-prompt… with your help, if you don’t mind too much, my Wicked Luvs. 😉

Those of you who follow me on Instagram, Facebook and/or Twitter know that I’ve been birthing quite a bit of blackout poetry these last few weeks… about one Poem Bit a day. I’m enjoying the process. But often, I’m left with a deep desire to grab the spark of a blackout poem and expand its flame.

I’ve decided to collect each week’s blackout poetry, and publish it on Fridays. Why, you might wonder? Well, because I would like you to decide which of my Poem Bits should become a flash fiction tale (of 313 words or fewer).

Below, I’ve included the blackout poems I’ve created this week (in reverse chronological order); your mission, if you choose to accept it, is to leave a comment letting me know which of the Poem Bits you would like to see expanded. So: 1) Which poem you wish me to develop into a story? 2) *optional* Why?

On Sunday or  Monday, I will turn the Poem Bit with the most votes into a short tale.

.
“A Sickness”
Lying is a sickness,
death
to the spirit.
– blacked out from Ageless Body, Timeless Mind

.
“Eyes Full”
I see you,
eyes full of wonder
power and words—

magic.
– blacked out from Music and the Classroom Teacher

.
“Be Human”
Wreak havoc.
Fall in love.
Attack certainty.
Be human:
change!

Challenge all assumptions.
– blacked out from Ageless Body, Timeless Mind

.
“Wrong” (One-Line Poetry)
A child taught to disparage will be mean… and wrong.
– blacked out from Music and the Classroom Teacher

For images of the listed Poem Bits… visit me on Instagram.

A Sickness, by Magaly Guerrero