DAYDREAMING

 

A series of essays….

MY PHOTOGRAPHIC INTERPRETATION OF AN
IMPRESSIONISTIC PAINTING ENTITLED:
POOLSIDE (2007)

….as seen through my eyes!

By: Jacqueline E Hughes

The perfectly angled autumn sun pours its golden light down upon the swirling water while the reflection of a thousand dancing fairies shimmer above me on the high-glossed, paneled ceiling. I am sitting on my lanai and daydreaming. Staring up at the tongue and groove boards, I observe brilliant white light, texture, and fluid movement as the nymphs play their afternoon games of hide and seek. My heart is filled with joy!

I have always been a daydreamer. Sister Teresa understood and encouraged me. As long as I was able to answer her questions when called upon in class, my fantasy worlds were windows of opportunity for me, as far as she was concerned. Yes, she always understood. A fellow dreamer, perhaps?

Not every Sister or lay teacher I had in Catholic School was able to perceive the importance of my mini-travels to the stars and back. Avid reading, however, was acceptable, and I always did my fair share of that. After exhausting Carolyn Keene's adventures with the help of Nancy Drew, I set my sights on F. W. Dixon and checked-out as many Hardy Boys Mystery Stories as they would allow me to each week from our small school library. The bus ride home each day was extensive and permitted me ample time to consume multiple chapters before hearing the whoosh of the bus door closing behind me. 

The addition of writing coupled with the joy of reading came early on in life. By first grade I was begging my Mother to purchase extra notebooks for school, I would turn them into spiral bound journals filled with line after line of cursive script intended for my eyes only. Carefully hiding them in stacks beneath my bed, it was never my intent, at that time, to share my past, present, or future with another living soul. 

The nomadic lifestyle imposed upon my family due to my father's employment made it difficult to hide much beneath my bed for very long considering the floor it rested upon changed from one year to the next. The dust bunnies barely had sufficient time to accumulate. Not only was I a wanderer within my own head but, with each move and having to adjust to each new school, new house, and new set of friends, our small, restless mobile society contributed to my need for movement and travel later on in life.

When my dad decided to finally settle down, he brought us to Michigan where I was enrolled in our public high school that included an eighth-grade level program. Growing-up required bidding adieu to the ladies donning black habits and beaded (rosary) accessories one year and hello to walking the halls alongside a student body that was eighty percent older than myself. I was now changing classrooms each hour and having to consciously recall my locker combination or be left standing alone in the hall like a fish out of water. I survived and matured because of the experience.

It was around this time that two amazing realizations occurred that have served to mold and change my life forever. I fell in love with France, all things to do with France, and knew that I could consciously submerge myself in her culture, language, people, and history and be happy the rest of my life. Secondly, it was time to share my thoughts with anyone who would be willing to read about them. I became a writer at fourteen years old. My first poem entitled "Time" was published in our local newspaper and after that, I never looked back.

There is a fine line between the conscious and the subconscious mind. Traveling between them can be an interesting adventure, especially when the journey itself is used as a coping mechanism allowing you to exist despite teenage challenges. The observation of 'visible energy' surrounding me was developed, encouraged and always felt natural. After all....I had had several years of practice by then. Because we can see light with our eyes, it has special significance to us. Rainbows show how visible energy is a combination of many colors. I often relied upon my vivid imagination to transform a negative situation into a positive experience. 

To this day, daydreaming, triggered by visible energy, attracts me like a Super Magnet. Pulled into a vortex of encircling emotions and ideas, my interpretations can be transformed from the ordinary to the extraordinary in moments. Unlike most of our stage five dreams at night during REM (rapid eye movement) sleep that may be forgotten upon awakening, daydreaming affords us the luxury of sustained recall. In case you were wondering, yes, I do sleep with a pad of paper and a pencil on the night stand.....just in case.

The motion that triggers a reaction in me and stimulates my desire to daydream can be as complicated and exquisite as being transfixed by the languid shadow of the backyard live oak tree as it spills its brilliant summer colors onto the swimming pool's aquamarine ripples. Or, as simple as the sunlight reflecting off of my watch creating 'Tinker Bell' choreography on the family room walls. Light. Motion. A  combination capable of bridging the gap between conscious and subconscious thoughts and my personal recipe for a creative concoction certain to be utilized, expanded upon and served-up with imaginative flair in the near future.

Looking up at my dancing fairies this afternoon as I daydream the moments away, I am reminded of a quote by Sir Richard Branson, the highly successful English businessman and investor who said, "Don't ever let anyone prevent you from dreaming. Imagination is one of our greatest gifts. Don't just dream it. Go out and grab it with both hands." 

Daydreaming is as close to reality as I sometimes want to be and it is much more important than the simple involvement of idle reverie or indulging in pipe dreams. Daydreaming has been and will always be my way of witnessing and then describing the softened edges of a granite hard world.....through the eyes and soul of a writer. Life seen through my eyes!

Copyright © 2024 by Jacqueline E Hughes

All rights reserved

Photograph copyright © 2024 by Jacqueline E Hughes

All rights reserved

ANOTHER BRIGHT STAR ~ TOO SOON!

A series of essays.....

~~TAKE REFUGE IN THE COZINESS OF THE 'STARRY NIGHT'~~

    Courtesy of The Imaginative Conservative



.....as seen through my eyes!

By: Jacqueline E. Hughes

Look up to the night sky tonight and you will clearly see another bright star shining down upon us.These stars are very special, you understand, because they represent the Mothers, Daughters, Sisters, Wives, Aunts, and members of the Sisterhood who have left our earthly company, with many having departed far too soon! 

Take refuge in the coziness of the night sky, my Sister!

Nestle in amongst the brave who have flown before you,

For, your time is now.

Certainly, God created the stars above to offer all of us hope; to shower those left behind in the brilliance of star beams and majestic twinkles so that we will never have to feel alone. 

Women comprise the earthly community of caregivers who, like an unrelenting firestorm, swiftly sweep through their domain rarely swerving in their determination to do what is best for everyone around them. They are mother to their own offspring, nourishing and protecting, while extending these magnanimous gifts to all children and anyone in need of a generous spirit or a masterful portion of dignity of the soul. This combination of qualities enables a woman to handle trouble with firmness (protect), disdain injustice, and be loyal and trustworthy under all circumstances.

Remain vigilant and firm in the hereafter, dear Sister!

Believe that your roots continue to grow strong and sound and that

Memory serves the soul of those left behind.

This is why those of us left here on Earth without you, Mother, mistrust our own emotions, doubt ourselves, and challenge the ability to cope with your loss. 

Heartbreak is having a Mother leave too soon.....sixty-two years of age....with so many young grandchildren left to wonder and ask the adults, "Why?" Answers forthcoming. And I, being her only daughter, her proud new friend, was filtering grief under a starlit Chicago sky while holding the hands of my own two young daughters; husband cautiously engaged in support and love. Really....what is the 'perfect' combination of words you might offer someone who has just lost a parent, her Mother, confidant, friend? A veneer of 'protective numbness' encased my being on that long, somber drive back to Michigan that night....under those same brilliant stars that showered their heavenly light, guiding us along that stretch of the I-94 highway.

Oh, night sky starred with bright earthly flowers,

I transfix on one special bloom, larger and brighter than the rest.

And bask in its light as it shines down upon me.

This past Sunday morning, a bold, new star dances above us, navigating the heavens, and shining her light upon the earthbound loved ones who look up to the night sky in search of the right answers, not only for their children, but for themselves, as well. 

This past Sunday morning, Lucille, Mother to our son-in-law, Eric, lost her battle with pancreatic cancer. 

Generous of spirit, extremely liberal when bestowing gifts, laughter, and love upon everyone around her, Lucille, wife of Alan, Mother of Adam and Eric, daughters-in-law, Melissa and Alexandria, and Grandmother to four talented, young spirits, Sarah, Amanda, Brenna, and Gavin.....you have left all of us way too soon!

Derived from Latin and French ("Loo-Sill") with an English pronunciation of "Loo-Seel," your name makes me think of a young girl, with thick, golden hair in long plaits resting down her back, running joyfully through a field of sweet grasses and wildflowers! It reminds me of fun and laughter on a Saturday morning watching "I Love Lucy" reruns and repeating the risibility of its contents over and over for her devoted fans to enjoy.

Lucille....not Lou or Lulu, Lucy, Lucie, Cici, or Luce. At least I have never heard you labeled by any of these nicknames throughout our time together. The strength of 'Lucille' always seemed to fit you best! 

The significance of your name was a special and pleasant surprise for me when I discovered that the name, Lucille, means Light: Moonlight, bright light, a state of awareness and understanding, spiritual knowledge and illumination or, 'The Light' in certain doctrine that describes a divine presence in each person. 

Looking up into the night sky tonight, another bright star will illuminate the heavens next to Olga, Beverly, and so many other Moms and caretakers who continue to shine their loving light down upon the children they have left here on earth. In this act alone, we will find peace and comfort and understanding beneath the star beams and majestic twinkles we so often wish upon.

Take refuge in the coziness of the night sky, my Sister!

Nestle in amongst the brave who have flown before you,

For, your time is now and forever!

In Loving Memory of Lucille Miller Siskind.

Copyright © 2016 by Jacqueline E. Hughes

All rights reserved

THE REDBUD TREE

A series of essays.....

~~A ROOM WITH A VIEW~~
THE LITTLE YELLOW COTTAGE

 .....as seen through my eyes!



By: Jacqueline E. Hughes


The Redbud tree grows wild and free outside my bedroom window. The rising sun has set it on fire as each fledgling bud is bathed in brilliant morning light. Oh, how I love the morning hours.

My Spirit exists within this tree.....

Inevitably, someone will inquire of each of us, "Are you a morning or a night person?" What would you say to them?

"I feel incredibly alive in the early morning hours," I would reply, without a moment of hesitation. The pure, rose-pink light of dawn awakens the senses with its perception of a new beginning that offers a blush of warmth to the new sky like a young girl's cheeks following her 'first kiss.'

The feeling of hope gently spreads out along the horizon like a healing salve of slender tentacles of light inching across both land and sea, seeking every nook and cranny, each foaming wave of water arching magnificently before breaking onto the shore.

My naked bedroom window, like a huge 'eye on the world,' pulls the newborn light into the small room. I stand speechless, in awe of the spectacle materializing both inside and out. Running to retrieve my camera, I stumble back to the bedroom, the old wooden floor creaking with every step, echoing my early morning solitude.

My Redbud tree is screaming, "Get your spring on! Look at me. I am a feast of blossoms; a breath of fresh air after a long winter."

Its presence cannot, will not, be ignored. I have captured its image and beauty to take back home to Florida. I will forever remember the subtle, gentle screams of delight as the rising sun saturates each wild pink bud with its heady warmth and light.

I may not be there when these showy pink flowers, naturally, drift to the ground under the peaceful persuasion of a spring breeze. The picture of my Redbud tree taken that glorious morning at sunrise will remind me that the vivid springtime beauty of the Redbud will always have an impactful effect on my Michigan spirit.

The Redbud tree grows wild and free outside my bedroom window....


Copyright © 2016 by Jacqueline E. Hughes
All rights reserved

DAYDREAMING

A series of essays.....

My Photographic Interpretation of an Impressionistic Painting Entitled:
"Poolside" and Taken During the Summer of 2007

.....as seen through my eyes!




By: Jacqueline E. Hughes



The perfectly angled autumn sun pours its golden light down upon the swirling water and the reflection of a thousand dancing fairies shimmers above me on the high-glossed, paneled ceiling. I am sitting on my lanai and daydreaming. Staring up at the tongue and groove boards, I observe brilliant white light, texture, and fluid movement as the nymphs play their afternoon games of hide and seek. My heart is filled with joy!

I have always been a daydreamer. Sister John-Marie understood and encouraged me. As long as I was able to answer her questions when called upon in class, my fantasy worlds were windows of opportunity for me, as far as she was concerned. Yes, she always understood. A fellow dreamer, perhaps?

Not every Sister or lay teacher I had in Catholic school was able to perceive the importance of my mini-travels to the stars and back. Avid reading, however, was acceptable, and I always did my fair share of that. After exhausting Carolyn Keene's adventures with the help of Nancy Drew, I set my sights on F. W. Dixon and checked-out as many Hardy Boys Mystery Stories as they would allow me to each week from our small school library. The bus ride home each day was extensive and permitted me ample time to consume multiple chapters before hearing the 'whoosh' of the bus door closing behind me.

The addition of writing coupled with the joy of reading came early on in life. Begging my Mother to purchase extra notebooks for school, I would turn them into spiral bound journals filled with line after line of cursive script intended for my eyes only. Carefully hiding them in stacks beneath my bed, it was never my intent, at that time, to share my past, present, or future with another living soul.

The nomadic lifestyle imposed upon my family due to my Father's employment made it difficult to hide much beneath my bed for very long considering the floor it rested upon changed from one year to another. The dust bunnies barely had ample time to accumulate. Not only was I a wanderer within my own head, but with each move and having to adjust to each new school, new house, and new set of friends, our small 'restless mobile society' contributed to my need for movement and travel later on in life.

When my Dad decided to finally settle down, he brought us to Michigan where I was enrolled in our public high school that included an eighth-grade level program. Growing-up required bidding adieu to the ladies donning black habits and beaded rosary accessories one year and hello to walking the halls alongside a student body that was eighty percent older than myself. I was now changing classrooms each hour and having to consciously recall my locker combination or be left standing alone in the hall like a fish out of water. I survived and matured because of the experience.

It was around this time that two amazing realizations occurred that have served to mold and change my life forever. I fell in love with France, all things to do with France and knew that I could consciously submerge myself in her culture, language, people, and history and be happy the rest of my life. Secondly, it was time to share my thoughts with anyone who would be willing to read about them. I became a writer at fourteen years old. My first poem entitled "Time" was published in our local newspaper and after that, I never looked back.

There is a fine line between the conscious and the subconscious mind. Traveling between them can be an interesting adventure, especially when the journey itself is used as a coping mechanism allowing you to exist despite teenage challenges. The observation of 'visible energy' surrounding me was developed, encouraged and always felt natural. After all....I had had several years of practice by then. I often relied upon my vivid imagination to transform a negative situation into a positive experience.

To this day, daydreaming, triggered by visible energy, attracts me like a Super Magnet. Pulled into a vortex of encircling emotions and ideas, my interpretations can be transformed from the ordinary to the extraordinary in moments. Unlike most of our stage five dreams at night during REM (rapid eye movement) sleep that may be forgotten upon awakening, daydreaming affords us the luxury of sustained recall. In case you were wondering, yes, I do sleep with a pad of paper and a pencil on the night stand.....just in case.

The motion that triggers a reaction in me and stimulates my desire to daydream can be as complicated and exquisite as being transfixed by the languid shadow of the backyard live oak tree as it spills its brilliant summer colors onto the swimming pool's aquamarine ripples. Or, as simple as the sunlight reflecting off of my watch creating 'Tinker Bell' choreography on the family room walls. Light. Motion. A  combination capable of bridging the gap between conscious and subconscious thoughts and my personal recipe for a creative concoction certain to be utilized, expanded upon and served-up with imaginative flair in the near future.

Looking up at my dancing fairies this afternoon as I daydream the moments away, I am reminded of a quote by Sir Richard Branson, the highly successful English businessman and investor who said, "Don't ever let anyone prevent you from dreaming. Imagination is one of our greatest gifts. Don't just dream it. Go out and grab it with both hands."

Daydreaming is as close to reality as I sometimes want to be and it is much more important than the simple involvement of idle reverie or indulging in pipe dreams. Daydreaming has been and will always be my way of witnessing and then describing the softened edges of a granite hard world.....through the eyes and soul of a writer.


Copyright © 2015 by Jacqueline E. Hughes
All rights reserved

Photograph copyright © 2015 by Jacqueline E. Hughes
All rights reserved