HARMONY

 

A series of essays….

BETWEEN BOUTS OF TUSSLING AND THE SHEER FRENZY
OF ACTIVE PLAYTIME…THESE MOMENTS OF
HARMONY, BLISSFULLY, EXIST.

….as seen through my eyes!

By: Jacqueline E Hughes

Harmony is the balance we seek within a world that has become so unstable, off kilter, and often, oppressive and dangerous. Harmony is a relationship in which various components exist together in peace. The harmonious framework of life that allows humans of all races, every species of bird and fish, all of the colors and sounds of a lush forest in summertime, to live in agreement with one another as a whole; congruity. It is the sweet spot in a musical composition that reminds us that things could be and have been different when all of the players are in cooperation with one another while playing any given piece; agreeable sounds that are consistent, orderly, and the pleasing arrangement of all its known parts.

It may seem to us that it’s only been recently that the world has become biased and unfairly prejudiced within its distorted judgment of right and wrong, good vs. evil, and its creation of a jaundiced viewpoint that leaves us with a bitter, cynical, and hostile environment in which to live. Let’s remind ourselves that there has always been, throughout the span of time, aggression; one individual or group that has denied others their right to live free and balanced by the outstretched hand of a harmonious state of being. Humankind has always been challenged by someone who desires to disrupt the positive balance of life through their greed, need for power, and general lack of scruples, or the logical motivation derived from ethical and moral principles.  Their exaggerated sense of self-importance, the ego, thrives within them casting its negativity across the land behind a self-righteous smokescreen of manipulative lies and falsehoods.

Harmony must be consciously sought-after and attained before the people of the world can exist without destroying one another.  It must become our priority and preemptive action before dealing with those who desire the disruption of peace in order to fulfill ancient and strong habits of annihilation and obtain power over others. As with different kinds of fish living in harmony in rivers, lakes, and streams, so must humankind understand that relationships are built on trust and the idea that various components can exist side-by-side in a harmonious fashion. It would be considered most prudent to pass all of our positive lessons on to the generations that follow with a strong emphasis on peace, mindfulness, and the sterling hope for a much more cooperative, kind, and loving world to live in. We can then, and only then, know the true meaning of living in harmony—for years to come. It can be done and it will be done. We Must Believe.

Copyright © 2022 by Jacqueline E Hughes

All rights reserved

IN MY JOY

 

A series of essays….

THE EARTH’S EQUATOR IS ALIGNED DIRECTLY WITH 
THE SUN ON THE VERNAL EQUINOX

….as seen through my eyes!

By: Jacqueline E Hughes

I am such a lucky person. I’m in my joy! Truly, I am! Nobody can take it from me. I keep telling myself this every day and it’s been well worth it. Hearing it often helps me know that it’s legitimate and that each day will hold new, interesting, and even great things for me to look forward to, contemplate and absorb. It’s all based on the natural blending of imagination and truth. Honestly, if we lose the magical touch of this powerful combination, we could be doomed as a human race and sentenced to a zombie-like existence like those being portrayed in many movies and comic books.

Last Monday afternoon we were swept-up in a whirlwind of blue milk caps, pieces of newsprint, and discarded medicine bottles (empty, of course) that were being tamed by a Lion Queen wielding a wooden chair and a bullwhip. It was explained that the reason ‘she writes’ is because her voice is not heard, and it certainly must be. A person requires two things in order to survive: harmony and buttonholes. The fact is that we, like the stars, are never, truly, finished. We can imagine through multiple scenarios the instant our parents met one another and danced together, sweet and slow. Finally, through a project that is affectionately called, Stickhenge, we learned that it’s possible to recreate Stonehenge, the only surviving lintelled stone circle in the world, with broomsticks and capture the March equinox in our own backyard using fortitude, scientific data, patience, and unequaled parts of imagination and truth. 

Interesting note: did you know that in the 1830’s until around 1850 in the United Kingdom, it was very popular to have females tame lions and tigers in a managerie or collection of captive animals for the purpose of entertainment? These ladies were known as Lion Queens.

That’s quite a bit of reassurance of our own worth and self importance tucked away in just a couple of hours on a sunny afternoon in late March! That’s what you get when eight ladies occupy their seats around a large table within a room that is part of one of the best independent bookstores I’ve ever known, Kazoo Books, located on Parkview Avenue in Kalamazoo, Michigan. Especially when, as a group, we had not met in person (only Zoom meetings) for way too many months. Believe me when I tell you that the conga line for giving and receiving hugs was joyful, and long overdue!

We are the Ladies of Voices, as I like to refer to us, or more accurately, Voices on the Margin, a poetry group that not only studies the lives of various poets near and far, but takes it one step further by writing our own poetry based upon their style and visage of life in general while giving thought toward the poet’s writing technique and/or subject matter of each work. Often our poets have engaged in other forms of writing, such as fiction or nonfiction essays and novels. Familiarizing ourselves with each individual, whether a contemporary or posthumously, female or male, encourages us to open ourselves up to ideas and challenges we may not have thought about before. 

Our inspiration for this day was the Detroit born poet and clinical psychotherapist in private practice, Ken Meisel, who is exceptionally interesting, especially among many of us who have lived, worked in, or even only visited the Detroit area. 

Initially, we cornered the market, so to speak, on women poet laureates including Carol Ann Duffy, Joy Harjo, Molly Fisk, Tracy K. Smith, and Natasha Trethewey. In the spirit of fair practice, we have studied the works of Jack Ridl, local writer, educator, and poet who has created several exceptional poetry editions that inspire us to learn more about the importance of our everyday life and then write about it—simply and honestly. 

The convenience of Zoom meetings has offered our group the ability to include local published poets and have them share their personal work, thoughts, and ideas, with us. Kathleen McGookey has published four books of prose poems and three chapbooks, most recently Instructions for My Imposter (Press 53) and Nineteen Letters(BatCat Press). She has also published We’ll See, a book of translations of French poet Georges Godeau’s prose poems. She has graced us with all of the charm and benevolence of the talented person she is by giving us an evening of talk, reading selected poems, and answering the questions of ‘would like to be published’ poets.

Because we, the Ladies of Voices, have scheduled a Zoom reading of our own poetry, soon, we have had to reach back into the archives and select five minutes worth of work to share with family and friends. In doing so, I was amazed by the many pieces I’d written and accumulated throughout the years! Many I had not read for months and it felt amazing to pull them back into the light, once again.

I am proud of all of us. We are in our joy and not a single person can take that away from us. To be a part of this group is to hold the future in our hands; sharing  with others how wonderful it is to learn and physically create entire worlds from our own imaginations, talk about them with each other, all the while educating our sensibilities via published writers who have gone through this process for years themselves.

If you haven’t already, may I suggest awakening your ‘Joy’ by joining a poetry or writing group. Maybe your thing is working with clay, dancing and singing, painting, cooking, or any other activity that makes you happy and might, just might, give you a new lease on life. Enjoy to the fullest extent whatever it is you choose to do!

Copyright © 2022 by Jacqueline E Hughes

All rights reserved

ANTONE AND ALEXANDRIA

 

A series of essays….

MY UKRAINIAN GRANDPARENTS ON THEIR WEDDING DAY:
ANTONE AND ALEXANDRIA MOSHAK

….as seen through my eyes!

By: Jacqueline E Hughes

Russian forces bombed a maternity and children’s hospital in Mariupol in southern Ukraine on Wednesday. Babies, pregnant mothers, women in labor were all inside! The attack came despite Russia agreeing to a 12-hour pause in hostilities. “How much longer will the world be an accomplice ignoring terror?” asks President Zelenskyy of Ukraine.

I believe that good gives everyone and all actions the benefit of the doubt while evil  immediately takes over, suffocates everything good with its lies and brute force, and removes all semblance of good and its imminent possibilities. Timing is everything, my friends. This is dedicated to the bold determination of the Ukrainian people!

At the beginning of this unprovoked, horrendous war orchestrated by Vladimir Putin, I sat listening to the Ukrainian negotiation delegation holding a press conference in Lviv with foreign and Ukrainian news media. My mind wandered back in time to my grandparents home in Mishawaka, Indiana and me asking questions about this rhythmic, Slavic language singsonging in my head; holding me hostage in the past and now, doing the same in the present.

THE HOME PAPA BUILT ON CEDAR STREET IN
MISHAWAKA. HE DUG OUT THE BASEMENT 
AND LAID EACH BRICK HIMSELF.

Antone and Alexandria. According to the sound of their names, they could have ruled their own Slavic nation and brought goodness into an evil world. Actually, after having twelve children plus enduring three miscarriages, they could have easily populated their little nation, as well.

Frustration at not being able to understand what my grandparents were saying to one another prompted me to ask my Papa Moshak to teach us, his grandchildren, the language he brought over from his homeland. Because he did not speak English well, he always hesitated to comply. Oh, how I wish he could have taught us this major part of our heritage! He had brought over language course books but told my Mother they were all in Russian, not Ukrainian. I didn’t know the difference. But, he certainly did. He told my mother that it was all he could grab before leaving his homeland for America.

We were given tantalizing bits and pieces here and there, for example: Give me a little kiss (дай мені трохи поцілунку), hush your mouth (заткни свій рот) this was usually accompanied by the contact of my mother’s foot on our shin under the dining table, I love you (я тебе люблю), which was, of course, the best one of all! 

Mother and her eleven siblings were not taught to speak Ukrainian either. Sadly, Ukraine was a place they all wanted to distance themselves from as they were Americans, born and bred. Papa and Grandma only reminded them of a life to run away from; one with no future possibilities, one best to leave behind.

MY MOTHER, OLGA, STANDING SECOND FROM
THE RIGHT IN THE SECOND ROW WITH MOST
OF HER SIBLINGS. I AM THE BABY SITTING 
ON MY GRANDMOTHER’S LAP.

As this complicated sounding language flowed from the TV into my head, I had to wonder what the difference is between the Ukrainian and Russian languages. Despite their similar origins, there have been enough factors to push these languages into their distinct branches today, including time, culture, and politics. Papa told us that the Ukrainian language was greatly influenced by the Polish language. Recently, through Ancestry.com, I’ve learned that the small village grandma grew up in, Strae, Ukraine, is located a short distance from the Ukrainian/Polish border. 

Grandma’s delicious dumplings, pedaheh, were our ultimate comfort food, filled with cheesy potatoes, or dried plums, or sauerkraut, they were similar to Polish pierogi but, lovingly made just for us by grandma. Her borscht was never my favorite meal with its sour taste, deep purple color, and dollop of sour cream on top. I remember crushing as many saltine crackers into it as possible to create something palatable and always under the scrutiny of grandma’s penetrating gaze.

Thinking about all of the things we’ve seen, learned about, discovered, wondered about, and often failed to discern in one human lifetime only makes me wonder even more about everything we know absolutely nothing about and may never learn within one go around on this fragile planet.

During his State of the Union Address, President Biden spoke about our veterans being exposed to burn pits; the toxic equivalent to Agent Orange during the war in Vietnam. The first I’d heard of burn pits was when our troops evacuated Afghanistan this past year. And, even then, I had to do some research to fully understand what was going on. I suppose it does make sense to destroy everything you’ve touched and utilized during the occupation of another country in order to erase your information and undermine its influence on your enemy. But, at what cost?

Isn’t Russia playing by its own rules in the attempt to destroy everything touched by the Ukrainians, especially the children,  in a blatant act of erasing them as people altogether?

What many veterans are having to live through now, with their health in jeopardy, is merely one true cost of war, I know. (Making mental lists as I type this article.) Having knowledge of the use of burn pits, even after the fact, has enlightened many of us to the hazards of war created by the one institution that should always have the welfare of all of its people in mind—the Federal Government. As Commander in Chief, President Biden is introducing a bill to aid all veterans suffering from the lasting affects of burn pits.

As this unprovoked war on the kind people of this beautiful country of Ukraine wages on, many of us who have this noble blood flowing through us intensely react to their deep pain and sorrow. We pray for ultimate reasoning and fundamental peace to emerge from the ashes of this nonsensical conflict. May the uncompromising spirit of the president of Ukraine, Volodymyr Zelenskyy, spread its strength across the nation as he displays both bravery and media savvy during the Russian invasion.

VOLODYMYR ZELENSKYY
PRESIDENT OF UKRAINE
A TRUE WAR HERO

Now, I don’t know if Antone and Alexandria, my Ukrainian grandparents, ever stepped foot in the historic and beautiful cities of Kyiv, the capital city, or Odessa (Odesa), the port city on the Black Sea in southern Ukraine. I hope they did. They were both born and raised in separate villages that bordered on Poland and were quite a distance from the capital city of Ukraine. Leaving your small village to travel around your own country was considered a luxury and one not readily available to all Ukrainian citizens. By the time they both escaped the terror reigned upon them during the Bolshevik Revolution beginning in November of 1917 and led by Vladimir Lenin, whose regime would soon create the first communist country called the U.S.S.R., they met one another in the United States. Each escaping the terror of their homeland in order to create a better life here, they married and raised a large family in upstate Indiana.

Olga, my mother, was the kindest most sensitive parent any child could have and with her fiery red hair framing porcelain skin sprinkled with sun kissed freckles, she epitomized the ‘Daughter of Ukraine’ in so many ways. When grandma passed at the early age of fifty-six, my mother lost her best friend; her true tie to the land she would never visit.

VLADIMIR LENIN, FORMER PREMIER AND
DICTATOR OF THE SOVIET UNION

Photo courtesy of The Guardian

Given the current war instigated by yet another brutal Russian dictator, as well as the many conflagrations foisted upon the Ukrainian people during, as well as since she and Papa fled to the west, Alexandria could explain to my mother firsthand the important role that the western countries of Europe have taken in aiding refugees fleeing Ukraine. Olga could learn, via her own parents, how history constantly repeats itself. 

Now is not the time to let up; Putin must fail. Since the end of the Cold War, we took our eyes off the ball and allowed people to harm one another, again. This time around we are defending democracy and the right of an independent nation to embrace the freedoms they had worked so hard to obtain. 

Will this latest war open up our own eyes to the possibility of losing something as precious as our own democratic beliefs? Will it help to pull our country together and make us understand how important our freedoms truly are? What is Putin’s endgame? These are the questions we should be asking. I see a lonely, confused, and desperate man seated at the end of one of his long tables in the Kremlin.

Yes, I wish I had been taught how to speak the Ukrainian language by my grandparents, if only to bring me that much closer to a heritage that I am so proud to be a part of. As my distant cousins, perhaps sleeping in metro stations and basements in an attempt to survive another day, hold their children close as they wipe away their tears, my arms are opened wide letting them know it will be okay; we are here for you.

ST. ANDREW’S CHURCH -
KYIV, UKRAINE

 

Courtesy: Art, Culture, and Civilization

Believing in Antone and Alexandria keeps hope alive. There is a stronger, better world that will outshine the rocket’s red glare and bombs crushing the life from the Ukrainian people today. However, their spirit, so far, remains intact and we must all help to keep it this way until the monster hiding under the bed (behind the Kremlin walls) is defeated!

I thank you, Grandma and Papa, for your courage so long ago. The darkness and shame people carry having to leave a place in fear for reasons of self preservation surely must have been eased by your love for your children, grandchildren, and great grandchildren. We feel blessed by your courage every day of our lives.

The more love you put out in the world, the more you get back..

WITH LOVE TO UKRAINE
AND HER AMAZING PEOPLE!

Copyright © 2022 by Jacqueline E Hughes

All rights reserved

 

THE PERFECT FEBRUARY STORM

 

A series of essays….

BREE LOVES BEING BY THE COZY FIRE
AND OFFERS HER CHEW TOY TO THE FIRE GODS…

….as seen through my eyes!

By: Jacqueline E Hughes

It’s snowing—gently, and this has created a whiteout scenario looking out of our French door windows and stretching out to beyond the chain link fencing of the golf course to White’s Road on the course’s northern boundary. It’s beautiful! You might say the artistic effect is absolutely stunning!

SNOW IS ROLLING IN FROM THE FAR,
NORTHERN SIDE OF THE GOLF COURSE

The elongated trunks of the tall trees are painted a blotchy white on their northwest surfaces with the cold air and snow pushing into our community off of mighty Lake Michigan. The trees resemble the animals of the forest wearing winter coats and trying to blend in with their surroundings. Tree wounds (knots), crotches formed from larger limbs extending out from the main trunk, and the delicate filigree of wooden fingers created by the dainty branches naked and exposed by the disappearance of their protective leaves, accept the shimmering coat of snowfall with an abundance of grace.

Brave squirrels navigate the network of branches coated inches deep in snow and scratch their way across them in time warp speed while bursts of snow fly through the air and deplete the squirrel highways of their winter burdens. At least, temporarily. Today, Mother Nature is content to paint the fingerling branches in delicate white within moments of the high wire performance of each resolute critter chasing one another in furry leaps and scolding chatter from branch to branch. Looking high up into the treetops, this network appears endless.

THE SQUIRREL HIGHWAY IS AS 
BEAUTIFUL AS HANDMADE LACE

Yesterday, I observed a variety of twosomes out on the golf course. One consisted of a woman and her best friend gliding along the pristine snow, feet clamped onto cross-country skis, while four, snowy paws pranced behind as if the white substance it walked on was electrified! Ah, the freedom of the skis on the slippery surface bewitched me and I reminisced about gliding along with our two young daughters following us and navigating the long, narrow tracks made by our own skis. It was always about being a family and making an effort to relish and enjoy what a Michigan winter had to offer.

The snowfall fades in and out on a scale of whiteout heavy to moderate dusting. This morning, so far, no one has ventured out onto the golf course to craft virgin tracks while their Golden Retriever trots by their side. At what time does a fun sport transform into a point of survival? I believe it’s easier to sit inside sipping hot cocoa next to a roaring fire, best friend soaking up the warmth of the golden/blue flames, while you take advantage of a perfect ‘snow day’ in February. Tomorrow will always be another day with its own ideas of fulfillment.

Remnants of our summer herb wall float along in the silent breeze a few feet above the deck floor just beyond the French doors. Snow capped tables and stools look like enormous fungi encircled by magical fairies in the shape of bright blue pots filled with evergreen trees and frozen licorice plants that stiffly cascade down their sides. It makes me think of an Upper Peninsula waterfall in February all dressed up in its winter finery of snow and ice! 

HERB WALL, MAGIC MUSHROOMS, 
AND BRIGHT BLUE POTS

This is my morning view of summertime frolicking caught in the middle of a winter storm. The Weber grill, now covered in protective vinyl, sports a mantel of white snow that reminds me of my father’s Uncle Max, hair so thick and of the purest white I’d ever seen. I can almost smell the cherry aroma emanating from his expensive pipe and visualize the handsome profile of this stately man from my childhood. Suddenly, the bushy tails of several squirrels race along the power lines high above. Their scampering sends an elongated spray of snow down towards the ground that dissipates in midair long before reaching its destination.

Tonight we’ll create a roaring fire of our own in the living room fireplace replete with golden splendor and crackling sounds that will warm the weariest of souls. Our new puppy, Bree, will luxuriate in front of the bronze screen and be entertained for hours by the dancing flames, soaring pops, and shifting logs. All the while, she will keep a stern lookout for the remote control and try to hide it from us before we can push any buttons turning on the television. Bree is already learning how to expertly control our lives by making us conform to her playful wishes.

BREE IS SETTLING IN
FOR A WARM, WINTER’S NIGHT

Hot cocoa may or may not be on the menu tonight. We’ll just have to wait and see as we ride out this perfect storm. Tomorrow looks like it might be a mirror image of today. I will be looking forward, once again, to seeing the playful critters, a snow covered fairyland, and watching our puppy romp in the snow mounds in the front yard before coming back inside resembling a frozen ice age creature. Who knows—maybe my new cross-country friend and her beautiful Golden Retriever will grace me with another athletic glide up fairway number eight!

Copyright © 2022 by Jacqueline E Hughes

All rights reserved

Photos Copyright © 2022 by Jacqueline E Hughes

All rights reserved

EMBRACING SOLITUDE AND MINDFULNESS

 

A series of essays….

LOVINGLY REFERRED TO AS ‘THAY’ (TEACHER), THICK NHAT HANH
IS A GLOBAL SPIRITUAL LEADER, POET, AND PEACE ACTIVIST

….as seen through my eyes!

Note: I wrote my initial story about Thich Nhat Hanh back on April 30, 2015, when I embraced Mindfulness for the first time. I, like millions of others, mourn his passing on January 22, 2022. His spirit will continue to touch all of us throughout time and space. JEH

By: Jacqueline E. Hughes

I have waffled in-and-out between requiring a needy life and one filled with freedom and solitude ever since I can remember. Even as a small child, alone time with my toys surrendered to a feeling of complete contentment and joy. Today I embrace my downtime and gratefully add up all of the benefits it has afforded me.

Then my husband planned yet another business trip and I, admittedly, anticipated his week long absence. Yes, I don't believe I have ever embraced the old adage, "Absence makes the heart grow fonder," simply because love should have no boundaries in time and space. Although, in truth, his gentleness was missed.....

MORNING SOLITUDE

Quite simply, I enjoy being alone! Funny how this conjures-up an image of Greta Garbo in the classic 1932 movie ‘Grand Hotel.’ The author of the book the movie was based upon, Vicki Baum, wrote that producer, E. Goulding, purposely changed the original line, “I wish to be alone” to “I want to be alone.” Interesting how Garbo made the word ‘alone’ sound like an entire line of dialogue!

    

Being a slave to office politics and corporate ladder climbs is a concept that defies all logic for me. The deep desire to be my own boss has been with me since the solitude and comfort of playing alone with my toys as a child. However, as an adult, this feeling of solitude and independence has gotten me into trouble within the corporate arena numerous times. Like I always say, another story, another time. 

Let's be honest, the world we live in can be volatile most of the time, and it is up to us to adapt to our surroundings, make positive changes where we can or, sink with the ship. Between natural disasters and simple human frailty with the lack of 'common sense' in general, our Earth is getting very annoyed with all of us humans right now!

Life has become the Chiliean Calbuco Volcano covering us in ash; a family of five living out of their car and hoping to see a light at the end of the dark tunnel; the ground shaking devastation of the Kathmandu earthquake; a mother attempting to cope with a sick child and avoid missing work at the same time; political unrest and religious intolerance; and a young, Black male afraid to walk down his own street in the light of day or darkness of night. Shall I go on?

I know that each generation harbors doubts about the wisdom of their particular journey in life. Unless you happen to be blessed with a peaceful heart and are the healthiest person ever known to walk the planet, your transgressions in this life will always find a way of catching-up to you. Guilt is generally the most transparent emotion we allow to haunt us—even when questioning our own bravery by surviving conflict when fellow soldiers may not have. We will all experience the black hammer of guilt pounding rhythmically over our heads at one time or another within our lifetime. 

The beloved Vietnamese monk, scholar and activist, Thich Nhat Hanh, has enlightened many of us with his pure, poignant thoughts about peace, love and compassion and how they are central to the teachings of both Buddha and Christ. He tells us how we must be aware of the suffering caused by the destruction of life and vow to cultivate compassion and learn ways to protect the lives of people, animals, plants, and minerals. We must be determined not to kill, not to let others kill, and not to condone any act of killing in the world, in our thinking, and in our way of life.

After all, if we rightfully believe that we are all connected in body and spirit....killing others would truly be like killing a part of ourselves. Why would we do that? 

                                                             

MINDFULLNESS

CULTIVATE COMPASSION 

Returning to my desire to experience solitude in my life, allow me to introduce, in case you haven't heard of this belief already, the effort of practicing mindfulness. Mindfulness is the energy to be here and to witness deeply everything that happens in the moment, and be aware of what is going on within and without, as per one of the Five Precepts of Buddhist Philosophy. Mindfulness is the basic human ability to be fully present.

Mindfulness is a basic and more simple root structure of meditation itself that urges us to find wholesome, spiritual nourishment for ourselves and everyone who touches our lives. It can be found by looking up at the blue sky, down at the colorful spring blossoms, or into the eyes of a child.... Thich Nhat Hanh teaches that "The most basic meditation practice of becoming aware of our bodies, minds and the world around us can lead us into a far richer and more fulfilling state than any drug ever could." This is one example of what we called, back in the day, achieving a natural high. 

I believe that when I am alone, in a personal state of solitude  and bliss, I am able to see the world in a softer, more beautiful light containing strong hints of hope and love. So, for me, being alone is truly never a problem. As the white noise in my mind dissipates to unmask the 'vibrations of potential' and my outlook on life reaches momentous levels, the prospect of creative thought flows strong and free like a babbling brook in the springtime. I think every one of us knows where to find our solitude and joy. Knowing how to and wanting to find it is certainly a large part of this journey we are all on.

May I conclude by saying that my husband enjoyed his time away, as well, and returned home safe and sound after a very productive work week. 

Considering my deep connection with the power and healing prospects of Love, I leave you with another quote by Thich Nhat Hanh from his beautifully written work entitled "Living Buddha, Living Christ." 

 

            "Love does not rejoice in wrongdoing. Love instructs 

            us not to act in ways that will cause suffering now or 

            in the future. We can discern when something that 

            seems to be joyful has the capacity to destroy future 

            happiness, so we do not abuse alcohol, ingest                

            unhealthy foods or hurt others by our words. Real love 

            never ends. It will be reborn and reborn."

Copyright © 2022 by Jacqueline E Hughes

All rights reserved