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

FOLLOWING PURPLE RAIN.....WILL BE PURPLE RAYS OF LIGHT

A series of essays.....

LAVENDER KISSED BY PURPLE RAYS OF LIGHT

.....as seen through my eyes!

By: Jacqueline E. Hughes

I believe that after the Purple Rain falls and saturates the earth, the Purple Rays of the Sun will shine down upon all of us creating beauty and a glorious light!

After taking this photo in the early evening hours this past Sunday, I began to realize how much the color purple truly affects my life.

Just as the dampness can begin to affect your health or, your attitude can affect how successful you are, your perception of happiness can be attributed to the appropriate balance between color and light.

"For every action there is an equal and opposite reaction. You receive from the world what you give to the world." ....Gary Zukav, "The Seat of the Soul." The Artist, Prince, has given us so much to think about, not only during his lifetime but, especially, now that he has left us behind to pick up the pieces and make sense from where there is none; to give back hope to those who may have lost it long ago. Sighting examples of how many of us reacted to the loss of Prince this past week may offer some insight as to how his actions have affected us personally for years.

A consummate, self-made musical magician, Prince.......but, those of us who loved and appreciated his talents already know this amazing story. We've probably watched his movie "Purple Rain" more times than we care to admit. And now, after we've lost his physical presence in this world, we slowly begin to understand what a powerful impact that presence had on so many of us. "You don't know what you've got 'til it's gone."

His talent for loving and giving back to those in need makes him a hero in my eyes. Because he was not a prideful man, he preferred to keep a low profile within his personal life. He tried to make the world a better place in small, quiet ways. Now that the purple dazzle behind his secrecy and positive intentions towards mankind is slowly being revealed, we begin to see how his legacy will be one of giving, loving, and generating hope for mankind. 

And, as I speak of heroes, the color purple has represented the highest admiration and respect we give our military heroes and is tastefully noted in the Medal of Honor called the Purple Heart. This esteemed military decoration of merit is awarded to members of the United States Armed Forces for wounds incurred or upon their death while serving to protect our country.

After taking the picture of sweet lavender touched by a purple sun, I wanted to reflect on this royal color; a 'princely' color intermediate between red and blue, worn by and associated with an emperor or senior magistrate in ancient Rome or Byzantium. I wanted to better understand why I enjoy seeing this color so much and seek it out whenever possible.

Could my desire for this color coincide with it lavishing the bedroom walls and wardrobes of so many 'little princesses' (granddaughter included)? I'm certain it does. There is something youthful and optimistic about the various shades of purple that young girls (actually, girls of any age) can identify with.

Purple is passionate. Purple is strong. Purple can be softened or toned down with the addition of white or with bright light reflecting off of it. This shade called 'lavender' evokes the lavender fields of southern France with its serpentine rows of aromatic flowers marching along an undulating path stretching into infinity. How I long to run between those rows on a warm, sunny day in late June and capture the unique essence of Provençal dreaming.

The usual liturgical color of Advent, celebrating the anticipation of the Second Coming of Christ, is either violet or purple. This color, representing hope, is often used for wall hangings around the church, the vestments of the clergy, and decorates the tabernacle, an ornamental cabinet on the altar that holds the bread and wine that symbolizes the body and blood of Jesus Christ.

Can you hear colors and see sounds?

There is a neurological condition called synesthesia in which two or more of the senses entwine. Numbers and letters, sensations and emotions, days and months are all associated with colors. To a certain degree, we all have been touched by this condition in that certain colors elicit sensations within us all of the time. Colors, music, and words can summon powerful memories and emotions from our past and arouse pity, raise a smile, or educe sympathy.

The color purple will always remind me of Prince, The Artist. We will hear one of his songs later in our life and it will be like.......BOOM!!, right back at being eighteen, twenty-six, or thirty again. His death will serve to make us mourn the loss of our own youth.

Since the passing of Prince, the evening skies appear more lavender. The purple rays of the sun pierce my existence offering more energy while saturating my world with its ornate visual of beauty and light! More of us seek out the pure power of this extraordinary color in all of its various shades: amethyst, aubergine, claret, heather, indigo, lilac, pansy, periwinkle, and violet....to name a few.

We should be grateful that Prince's music continues to soundtrack every important moment of our life. My wish is that the power of the color purple will serve as a reminder of hope and will provide an effective beacon of light that will guide all of us into a brighter, stronger future.

Prince, your energy will be missed......but never forgotten!





Copyright © 2016 by Jacqueline E. Hughes
All rights reserved

FRIENDSHIP

A series of essays.....

THE ATLANTIC COASTLINE AT CAPE CANAVERAL 

.....as seen through my eyes!



By: Jacqueline E. Hughes


Within our lifetime, may we all be fortunate enough to experience at least one, true friendship. One other living, breathing soul who is willing to walk down the path of life with us on bright sunny days, as well as those dark and sinister ones where flashes of lightening crackle and ravage a darkening sky! If we are lucky, even intermittent friendships will dot our lives with their bright spots of joy. Because who doesn't feel the need to share our experiences, emotions, the highs and the lows, with a listening ear who will greet us with a gentle hug or the clasp of a warm hand when needed?

Dependence is an acquired condition that conjures up the notion of being vulnerable. We feel uncomfortable believing in the absolute certainty of the trustworthiness of another. True friendship can open up our hearts to securing the belief, confidence, faith, reliance, and trust in another human being. Knowing that someone 'has our back' helps to relieve the anxiety of potential emotional injury.

Only a fool would speculate about the life of a woman. Only a fool....or, another woman. Women earn that right and with good reason: we care deeply. Often too deeply and that's exactly what can get us into trouble. Many women are capable of intuitively understanding the residual feelings of others: The lingering aftermath of a bad relationship, the sometimes hurtful words of a close relative, or aiding someone who is lost in a world they believe is filled with hate or fear and needs help finding their way back into the light. These are a few of the attributes of being a friend. Who knows, someday the tables may be turned and you will require the friendship needed to pull you out of the doldrums and calamities associated with....living!

Fortunately, for me, a friendship that sustained two young women back in the days of cheerleading tryouts, acne remedies, prom dates, and acting 'happy-crazy' on a road trip to Boston and up through Canada one summer between our sophomore and junior year of college, has resurfaced after all this time. I couldn't be more happy or more grateful.

Having Janis back in my life is comparable to recently locating my twin sister years after being adopted separately as toddlers. We enjoyed just enough time together only to be scattered in different directions by time, place, and family. All of the chapters contained within our imagined autobiographies...graciously written with love, husbands, and children in mind, would contain pieces of our heart and soul and serve to form the women we have become today.

I will be the first to admit that I am, usually, on the giving end of the spectrum of friendship in that my shoulder has often been used to cry on. And, it has been dampened by tears of sadness, as well as joy throughout the years. A good friend once nicknamed me her "Rock" for the support and kindness given her throughout a very bad relationship.

Being a good friend often requires being a good listener. Listening carefully to someone in need might just be one of the most magnanimous traits anyone could possess in a lifetime.

However, being a 'Rock' certainly has its downside because rocks never get to cry. A rock foundation is one of permanence and strength supporting the heavy load that rests upon it. A person who is similar to or suggestive of a mass of stone in stability, firmness, or dependability. Well, that's quite a lot to live up to.

With age, wisdom tends to seep through the fine cracks of even the most solid foundations....in the form of tears and the realization that sharing the burdens of life with others can be a luxurious comfort and tremendous consolation over time.

I am learning day by day. While my shoulders begin to sag a bit with each passing year, and the 'rock' begins to gradually shift as the sands of 'wear and time' blow mightily across the Florida beaches I hold so dear, the winds of change continue to intensify.

I have always considered myself fortunate in this life......with many good friends and wonderful people I have met and learned from. I will always attempt to 'give back' for all of the positive friendships I've collected throughout the years. Janis, naturally, being a prime example of my "good life." And, I'm raising a pint in honor of all of you amazing souls I have yet to share a portion of my life with in the future. Here's to good things to come.

In most of the spiritual teachings I've gathered and responded to these past several years, remembering that life is about the experience might be the most profound lesson yet. "Life is not a lesson to be learned but an experience to be had, shared, and appreciated with the ones we love. We, too often, like to remind our children that there will be tough lessons to be learned in life, which can in itself, be a defeating attitude. When we can look at life from growth by experience, it lightens the severity of any situation, and allows for a more free flowing transition through each stage of their growth."  .....Spiritual Wisdom by Spirit Science

Jill Blakeway, author, acupuncturist, and spiritual healer once said, "Real friends don't walk away when life gets tough. They make a pot of tea and pull up a chair." Dear friend, may I have a little honey and lemon with my tea, please?


Copyright © 2016 by Jacqueline E. Hughes
All rights reserved

"GREEN FIELDS OF FRANCE"

A series of essays.....

.....as seen through my eyes!





By: Jacqueline E. Hughes

We are sitting in the cozy hearth room at the Craggy Isle B&B, once again, listening to that beautiful voice with its Irish lilt and deep sadness rolled-up into one extraordinary man by the name of Adrian O'Connor. Adrian is speaking about his beloved father as a tear glistens in the corner of his eye and trails its way over the wrinkles of time, the deep creases of sorrow.....

I blink and am projected back into my own world with its flat screen television and comfortable leather couch. Dan and I have been watching the Public Broadcasting documentary entitled, "1916 Irish Rebellion," narrated by Liam Neeson, a true son of Ballymena, County Antrim in Northern Ireland.

One hundred years ago the "Great War," World War I, the war to end all wars, was in full swing and Irish men of all ages were fighting for their Motherland, Great Britain. At the same time, many Irish men and women remained at home in Ireland to fight the War of Independence to free themselves of British rule. As Irish blood spilled upon the green fields of France, Irish blood was, in turn, covering the cobblestone streets of Dublin. It was Easter, 1916.   




           DECLARATION OF IRISH INDEPENDENCE 
              BEGINNING OF THE EASTER RISING



The shots rang out as the Irish militia, unorganized yet determined, occupied several strategic strongholds within Dublin City, with the Post Office Building on O'Connell Street centralizing the small army within the city proper. Within days, being strongly overrun by British soldiers and watching their own Dublin civilians become collateral damage for the cause, the Irish leaders surrender.

Patrick Pearse, James Connolly, Tom Clarke, Sean MacDermott, and Joseph Plunkett.....  To name but a few of the dedicated Irish Citizen Army leaders who will be remembered for their bravery and were executed by the British as an example of the independence they represented.

As I sat watching this stellar film honoring these brave souls, Adrian's voice continued to blend with my subconscious. During our visit to Ireland in 2006, his Bed & Breakfast in Doolin, County Clare, was our home base for several days. By day, we discovered The Burren, literally hung over the Cliffs of Moher, and navigated the heaving Atlantic Ocean in order to visit the Aran Islands. But, during one glorious afternoon, this was our time with Adrian, a renowned composer and singer who specializes in Traditional Irish music.




               Source: South Dublin Libraries' Digital Archive


Adrian spoke of his dear Father's role in 1916 when many young men were torn between Irish independence and fighting for Great Britain. He dedicated his music to the brave individuals on both fronts.

Adrian's rendition of the classic song, "No Man's Land," written in 1976 by Scottish folk singer-songwriter, Eric Bogle, brings tears to my eyes. Adrian's talking voice seamlessly unites with his singing voice in a most craggy, Irish kind of way and bridges any gaps between the past and the present.

When I miss that splendid voice, as I do right now, I play his CD, "Often I Think About Doolin." Cut number three, "The Green Fields of France," another name for Bogle's iconic song, reflecting on the grave of a young man who died in World War I, has probably become the finest anti war song ever written. And, Adrian certainly does it justice.

Below are the lyrics to "Green Fields Of France." I choose to commemorate the young Irish soldiers, recruited by Britain to fight for the British Empire only to return home to Ireland as lost, unloved and forgotten souls. In this sense, and having lived through the Vietnam conflict, I am reminded of our own men and women, neighbors and friends, who experienced a similar lackluster greeting upon returning home to the United States. As I have often said before, unfortunately, history does repeat itself. Will we ever learn....?


"Green Fields Of France"
By: Eric Bogle

Well, how do you do, Private William McBride,
Do you mind if I sit down here by your graveside?
And rest for awhile in the warm summer sun,
I've been walking all day, and I'm nearly done.
And I see by your gravestone you were only 19
When you joined the glorious fallen in 1916,
Well, I hope you died quick and I hope you died clean
Or, Willie McBride, was it slow and obscene?

Did they Beat the drum slowly, did the play the pipes lowly?
Did the rifles fir o'er you as they lowered you down?
Did the bugles sound The Last Post in chorus?
Did the pipes play the Flowers of the Forest?

And did you leave a wife or a sweetheart behind
In some loyal heart is your memory enshrined?
And, though you died back in 1916,
To that loyal heart are you forever 19?
Or are you a stranger without even a name,
Forever enshrined behind some glass pane,
In an old photograph, torn and tattered and stained,
And fading to yellow in a brown leather frame?

The sun's shining down on these green fields of France;
The warm wind blows gently, and the red poppies dance.
The trenches have vanished long under the plow;
No gas and no barbed wire, no guns firing now.
But here in this graveyard that's still No Man's Land
The countless white crosses in mute witness stand
To man's blind indifference to his fellow man.
And a whole generation who were butchered and damned.

And I can't help but wonder, no Willie McBride,
Do all those who lie here know why they died?
Did you really believe them when they told you "The Cause?"
Did you really believe that this war would end wars?
Well the suffering, the sorrow, the glory, the shame
The killing, the dying, it was all done in vain,
For Willie McBride, it all happened again,
And again, and again, and again, and again.




Copyright © 2016 by Jacqueline E. Hughes
All rights reserved

AGING WITH GRACE: Praise For Strong, Loving Women

A series of essays.....

MY AUNT JUNE: "A COLLECTION OF WARM SMILES
SPRINKLED WITH A WRY SENSE OF HUMOR"

.....as seen through my eyes! 




By: Jacqueline E. Hughes


Yes, I continue to age each day and there is absolutely nothing I can do about it! Coming to terms with the fact that aging is inevitable, eases the negativity behind it.....to a certain degree.

Of course, it doesn't hurt to love yourself, too! I mean, what's the point of living day-in and day-out with somebody you don't have the utmost respect for....? Yourself. After all, I spend most of my time with, well, me....especially as a writer when I find myself traversing the intricate corridors of my brain nearly twenty-four/seven. I figure I had better be there for me, over anyone else I can think of.

The funny part is, especially as I age and learn more about myself, I pray that I will have no regrets. I have been told that my personality can come-off being a bit strong and too boisterous at times thus appearing to intimidate those around me. Growing older (or, as I refer to it, finally growing-up), I know the simple truth is that my passion seeps out in great, hot waves that crash onto the projected rocks having sharp, jagged edges that can harm the sensibilities of those within my circle. My ideas, stories, and intimate connection with the imagination that feeds me on a daily basis, sensationalizes the ordinary, and highlights the mundane, can be stronger than I could ever estimate. It is what defines me as a person.

Peering out from my often lonely, internal existence, I find comfort in a world splashed in vibrant colors, draped in miles of attractive fabrics, and scented with the perfume of a thousand exotic flowers! It is a good place to be. Sipping my steaming mug of green tea with honey and lemon, I quietly slip back into my surreal existence,
eventually!

I firmly believe that, as we age, we become more aware of those aging gracefully around us: a spouse, friends, immediate family members, and even public figures. And, as with many strong women, we seek-out other strong women with personalities that captivate us with their tenderness and loving attitudes towards life in general. It is an extreme pleasure to be able to acknowledge women around my own age that inspire me every single day. I would like to point a few of them out to you.

Allow me to introduce my adorable, Aunt June. Ninety-two years ago the earth was blessed by her arrival. Being the second born and having three male siblings, my father being her older brother, I can totally identify with many trials and tribulations she may have encountered given this identical birth order myself. Aunt June is the 'purple salad'  greatly anticipated and eagerly consumed every family reunion in August. She is a collection of warm smiles sprinkled with a wry sense of humor that often offsets her petite yet classic and well groomed stature. She is a fireball of energy and excitement who is always 'up' on current events and undeniably opinionated in her own right.

We totally lost touched as I grew older, married, and started a family of my own. Several years ago, not long after the birth of our first grandchild, Brenna, Aunt June and I were reconnected here in Florida when she and Uncle Louis rented a property during the winter months in Winter Haven. It was the best reunion of my life as it was peppered, once again, with her smiles and feisty humor.

Since the passing of Uncle Louis five years ago, she lives in her home located in South Bend, Indiana and we see one another as often as we can. Otherwise, Aunt June and I have become 'phone buddies' and have been known to ignore the passing of time for hours on end. She has become a best friend, surrogate mom, and a human sounding board by whom I channel my good and bad days as they are then deciphered and categorized by their relative importance. I admire this lady with all my being and often tell her that when I grow-up......I want to be just like her! Aging gracefully is her power and she's been blessed with the strength to endure just about any scenario placed before her.

Yes....I'm With Her!! How could I not be? Hillary Clinton, if you haven't noticed by now, is in the news quite a bit lately as she makes her run for President of the United States. I have reason to believe that the battle brewing between her and Bernie Sanders right now can be classified as 'mild' compared to the knock-down, drag-out fight she will soon encounter with the New York real estate mogul.

I do not feel the least bit sorry for him.

Hillary is a strong, brilliant woman who has had to endure one drama after another in her life of both a personal and public (political) nature and survived, if not made stronger and better prepared, as she emerged on the other side. Facing a male dominant world filled with its 'good 'ole boys' status hell-bent (even in 2016) on not accepting all human beings as equals, she consistently handles herself with decorum coupled with expert knowledge regarding ways to continue the progressive movement of this country and its citizens. As a mother, grandmother, and stubborn woman myself, I praise her tenacity and will always believe that she is highly qualified and sensitized towards the direct needs of all men, women, and children, with no exceptions.

No Presidential election should ever be based upon the physical traits of anyone. If that were the case, I wonder how many of our past male presidents would ever be elected today. Hillary Clinton ages gracefully right before us as she displays the charm of a loving woman who understands the value of wrapping her arms around us, helping the pain subside, and then applying a feasible solution in order to make us better and stronger. Hillary Clinton makes me proud to be a woman. Simple as that. She makes me proud to pass her female legacy down to my own daughters and granddaughters. She is setting a precedent for strong, little girls who desire to embrace their future head-on.

I could go on indefinitely mentioning female mentors, leaders, and artists who have changed the world through their powerful influence and talent: Mother Teresa, Oprah Winfrey, Margaret Sanger (opened the first family planning clinic in the United States), Virginia Woolf (author), Marie Curie (scientist), Sheryl Sandberg (author and COO of Facebook), Hillary Clinton, Marie Bracquemond (Impressionist artist), and Gloria Steinem, just to name a few.

Nurturing and being compassionate....that is what we do best as women. That is where we excel. We seem to always get things done. Whether we are mothers, teachers, doctors, or friends that genuinely care about one another, women are strong role models for others. And, as we age, we value more and more the inspiration of other women in our lives and use this strength to move forward into the realm of equalization with our male counterparts.

My personal goal, when it comes to aging with dignity and grace, has always been with regard to how well I have raised my own daughters. I am blessed with two strong, loving, and nurturing ladies who are generously passing these traits down to their own children every day.

Concentrating on the spiritual influences in my life these days, I open my heart and my arms to the power and grace of Love. You may have already noticed this recurring theme throughout my writing and with good reason. Strength, Love, and the Power to Forgive will guide each of us, man or woman, down the right path to aging....with dignity and grace.



Copyright © 2016 by Jacqueline E. Hughes
All rights reserved

MORE RANDOM THOUGHTS...

A series of essays.....

A GRANDDAUGHTER'S PERSPECTIVE AND TALENT
~EASTER GREETINGS TO EVERYONE~

......as seen through my eyes!




 By: Jacqueline E. Hughes

My Mother called it constructive criticism. It was, apparently, something that I couldn't 'take' to save my life.

But, take it we did, my three brothers and I, and it became a way of life for us. It was always like the swift kick underneath the kitchen table requesting our silence when something might come spilling out of our mouths that Mother believed should not.

As if being criticized weren't bad enough, nobody wants to be judged via disapproval, especially by their own parents. Then, suddenly, like a padded glove worn to soften the blow to their own character and esteem, the word 'constructive' was slammed into the mix and coupled with the word 'criticism.' Instantly, they became two 'verbal' box cars united for the long journey down the tracks to the ancient city of 'Discipline.'

No matter how laudable, hopeful, or for the good the aim might have been, the spirit of our youthful actions had been gravely criticized by the two people we loved the most. To this day, I believe that by telling a teenager, "You can't take constructive criticism," represents a gross misuse of the power behind these two unique and important words. Spoken with a bluster of insensitive sarcasm, the best of intents towards deriving positive results almost turns into a threat instead.

While raising two awesome daughters myself, many important lessons had been learned growing up under my parent's roof. Perhaps the most important one was knowing to bite my tongue before telling my children that they could not handle constructive criticism. We do learn from our parent's examples....one way or another. I will chalk it up to 'tough love' and leave it at that.


 



The longest way around is the shortest way home....a proverbial saying of the mid 17th century, meaning that not trying to take a short cut is often the most effective way. By taking that first, single step, our longest journey commences; a brand new beginning.

With emphasis on how important a single decision may be, I always think back on how difficult, at least for me, my husband's choice to accept permanent employment in Orlando, Florida, was twenty years ago. No amount of blue skies, swaying palm trees, or the tide's pull of the Atlantic Ocean and the Gulf of Mexico could convince me that leaving Michigan was a good idea. Little did I know, at the time, it was the best decision of our lives.

Escaping the heartache of past economic struggles and reaching out towards the light offered by greater opportunities and prosperity, we were like a young couple once again, albeit in our mid-forties, dancing in the springtime rain with joy in our hearts and hope in our steps. We were happy! We wanted to make one another happy.

The sheer joy of being together, depending on one another, and accomplishing things as a team made us feel alive. Eventually, the gentle sway of the palm trees and the warmth of the sun symbolized that giant first step we both needed in order to understand just what the future had in store for us.

Sure, we played with the possibility of sitting on the porch of a log home in Iron Duff, North Carolina, gently rocking back and forth while sharing tidbits from our day and staring out at an incomparable view of green mountains and gentle valleys. Not a bad way to usher in the golden years. Then, there will always be the desire for, what I believe to be, the benefits of living in France for a period of time. Such beauty and grace set apart from our present society lacking, for the most part, in both.

Ultimately, after twenty years of discovering what mysteries lie within our own hearts, home is calling us back. Unable to resist the siren call of the land, our amazing children and grandchildren, and all of the family we left behind in order to follow a better life, the arrow points north, for better or worse.

The appeal of working together on our 'little yellow cottage' and filling it with good times and our five adorable 'little people' up in Kalamazoo, is pulling at us. Delightfully, by taking that first giant leap, another wonderful journey is about to commence.

The act of terrorism inflicted upon Brussels, Belgium, this week applied another deep notch in the 'tree of life' and is, painfully, questioning our credibility as loving human beings once again. 

We can fight it with all the gusto we can muster, but fear keeps rearing its ugly head from around the tree trunk and life, as we once accepted it, has changed. Even though we say it won't take away our freedom and peace, it has; it won't make us think twice before making that next reservation and traveling to lands yet to be discovered, but it will....to a certain degree, anyway. Inevitability is a tough nut to crack.

It sometimes feels like we're playing an elaborate game of Russian roulette where any act, if repeated several times, is likely to have disastrous consequences. Then I ask myself, is this how you want to live out this beautiful, short time we have to enjoy on earth? Of course not, I say, because being truly free is being free from fear itself.

The martyrs that perished or were injured at the airport in Brussels and while riding the Metro beneath her streets....they did not suffer without a purpose. Their lives matter as much as those of Paris or San Bernardino and their ultimate sacrifice will never go unacknowledged or taken for granted. It is precisely because they unintentionally gave up their lives for our freedom, we owe it to them to be grateful and forever conscientious of their gift to us all.

We will keep purchasing our airline tickets (if we can afford to) and utilizing the precious use of the Internet to pick and choose the perfect accommodations for a day, a week, in the future. We will anticipate meeting new people and familiarizing ourselves with their way of life. I will hear new stories, see new sights, and I will continue to write about them for the pleasure (My intent, anyway!) of all to read and enjoy.

And that, my friends, is true freedom!



                                                                                    

FEAR IS OVERRATED

Fear is overrated
Akin to stress and woe
With its odd angles and dimensions
It will infuse into your psyche
Injuring the Spirit and the Soul

Stand tall and proud this very day
Employing common sense and love
Defeating all of the hate-mongers
Demigods hell-bent on destruction
Profiting from our pain

We've been there before and we've done that
It's time to change our course
Let peace and tolerance navigate us
Into a mindset far away
From bigotry, death, and war

If some must hate, then let them
Sometimes there is no recourse
But keep them in our hearts and prayers
For, in the end, life's burdens
Will seem lighter upon our shoulders

Now close your eyes and hear the sound
Of peace and calmness gathering
Into your mind, body, and soul
Like liquid love, it flows and ebbs
Within you and without

Relaxing deeply, concentrate on
A world free of fear
Place hate far away from you
And allow the feeling of happiness to
Open up all possibilities

You will see that
Fear is overrated, akin to stress and woe
Focus on the positive; eliminate the negative
Infuse love throughout your being
Allow its power to grow



HAPPY EASTER TO YOU AND YOURS....



Copyright © 2016 by Jacqueline E. Hughes
All rights reserved

COFFEEHOUSE CHATTER ~ RAY AND PETER

A series of essays.....

.....as seen through my eyes!





By: Jacqueline E. Hughes

From time to time, our neighborhood friends meet at the corner coffeehouse to relax, sip their favorite brew or concoction, and warm-up their hands and hearts...together!

Some might think of their meeting as a 'cleansing' or 'purification of the soul.' Even though they may share similar backgrounds and values, their ideas and opinions are as diverse and variable as the weather outside of the little shop.

Let's grab a cup of our own, take a comfortable seat, sit back and listen to what today's chapter of 'Coffeehouse Chatter' has to offer....

IRELAND ~ ATLANTIC COAST

RAY AND PETER.....



RAY: Will you take a look at those three over there in the far corner.....just chatting away non-stop forever now!

PETER: I know. I see those gals here often and they never seem to lack the ability to communicate, that's for sure. I think it's kind of cute, though.

RAY: Cute? Can we guys say 'cute' and get away with it? (Huge smile on his face.)

PETER: Yep! Times are definitely changing, Ray, and we have to change along with them or be left behind. Even if it's calling something 'cute' in public. I mean, just look at us. We're sitting here in a coffeehouse on St. Patrick's Day sipping, well.....coffee!

RAY: Point taken. Years ago we'd be in the local Irish Pub by this time of the day, sipping another pint O'Guinness and not thinking about much else. But, that was long ago now and I'm not saying that didn't mess me up a bit, anyway. I always figured if my folk back in the homeland didn't think twice about it, I could get away with it, too!

PETER: Not so much. At least, not if you wanted to stay happy by keeping family and friends around you and not alienate their affections like someone else we know about. I still have a difficult time thinking about Sean these days. (Look of deep sadness on his face.) It just isn't worth it.

RAY: When was the last time you heard from Sean? I heard that after he lost his job everything hit the fan full force.

PETER: It did! Guess his Irish temper set in and there really wasn't much anyone could do for him after that. Well, that coupled with the drink. Afterwards, Margie said he was only bringing pain into her life, as well as for their three kids...and, he left the house. Last I heard he was in a small apartment and cleaning offices at night. That was over six months ago, already.

RAY: It's our stubborn pride you know!

PETER: Our pride?

RAY: You. Me. Guys in general. We're brought up to be so macho that when the first thing doesn't go our way.....we sort of run to our 'crutch' of choice. Look where it got Sean and it would have taken me, too, if you hadn't verbally cuffed me in the head a few times. I have always appreciated your intervention, Man.

PETER: Yeah. I think your Mary and the kids are much happier now that you've 'seen the light,' so to speak, you old goat! Don't think I don't know what a struggle it was for you, too. I was just glad to be there when you needed a major reality check, my friend.

RAY: Like I said, that was a long time ago.... (Reflectively staring into space.)

PETER: I wish someone could have been there for Sean....

(Both men sit quietly for a minute or so.)

RAY: And life has been darn good for some time now. By the way, you're still coming over to the house after work for dinner, right? You know Mary has this habit of making sure our bachelor friends are fed well....especially on major holidays. You have to be the first to admit her Shepherd's Pie is award winning.

PETER: It's her bread pudding with bourbon sauce that tops everything off for me. She's making it for tonight, isn't she?

RAY: (Head nodding affirmatively.)

PETER: Of course I'll be there. Wouldn't miss it for the world. Are Jan and Michael going to be there, too?

RAY: With all of their kids. You know my Mary......if she can't feed a minimum of ten or twelve people at a time, she just isn't happy! Always told her she should have opened her own restaurant or catering place. She loves cooking so much.

PETER: But then the world would have been deprived of a talented writer. No, I like it better this way. It's like having the best of both worlds.

RAY: Look...one of our 'ladies of the corner table' is getting up for refills. She's enjoying her early morning with a cute hop to her step, I think. Another half a mugful? What do you say, Peter?

PETER: I say that the times are certainly changing for the better today! A fabulous meal with good friends to look forward to, more delicious coffee, and......you just said the word 'cute' and never flinched one bit! Happy St. Patrick's Day, Ray!!!

RAY: (Smiles) Happy St. Patrick's Day, Peter.....





Happy St. Patrick's Day To All.........


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