Perfect

Perhaps travel cannot prevent bigotry, but by demonstrating that all peoples cry, laugh, eat, worry, and die, it can introduce the idea that if we try and understand each other, we may even become friends.




JUNE 2014

We’ve had a lot going on lately around our house.  Usually once the weather warms up and the kids get out of school it’s literally “go, go, go”.  Lake, playing outside, errands, work, daycare, and making more of an attempt to spend time together outside is on my list for summertime.  The warm weather is almost certainly what drives me year round.  I appreciate the cold months, because with summer now being my favorite season, it helps me to remember that the cold and darker times do not last forever.  There will always be sunshine after the planet takes its time to cater to her darker mood called winter.



The non permanent appearance of happiness and distress, and their disappearance in due course, are like the appearance and disappearance of summer and winter seasons.
Bhagavad Gita quotes  



phi·lan·thro·py

  [fi-lan-thruh-pee]  
noun, plural phi·lan·thro·pies.

1.

altruistic concern for human welfare and advancement, usually manifested by donations of money,property, or work to needy persons, by endowment of institutions of learning and hospitals, and bygenerosity to other socially useful purposes.
2.

the activity of donating to such persons or purposes in this way: to devote one’s later years tophilanthropy.
3.

a particular act, form, or instance of this activity: The art museum was their favorite philanthropy.
4.

an organization devoted to helping needy persons or to other socially useful purposes.
Origin: 
1600–10;  earlier philanthropia  < Late Latin  < Greek philanthrōpía  love for mankind.

The recent passing of one of my favorite poets, Maya Angelou, has had me in a frenzy reading her work.  Her thought process when dealing with life is similar to mine and sometimes I find it fascinating when I think of the fact that she too, had insecurity.  And she wrote about it.  She wrote about it for everyone, but she focused on female relationships, love and philanthropy.  She wrote about the dark times and the lighter ones.  She was an incredible role model.  A writer or poet only reaches personal success when they allow them-self to write about ALL of life.  The deep and dark things, the passion, the human error, and the imperfect perfection that mankind is.  That is what catapults us on to another level of consciousness, is when you can bear your soul for the world to read, and be okay with the fact that you are absolutely standing in the center of the room naked.

vul·ner·a·ble

  [vuhl-ner-uh-buhl]  

adjective

1.

capable of or susceptible to being wounded or hurt, as by a weapon: a vulnerable part of the body.
2.

open to moral attack, criticism, temptation, etc.: an argument vulnerable to refutation; He is vulnerableto bribery.
3.

(of a place) open to assault; difficult to defend: a vulnerable bridge.

We were talking about perfection this week.  The girls and I that is, after seeing a Facebook post that made us all cringe.  Cringe in insecurity with our own bodies, and cringe for the fact that this person had no awareness of the inappropriate nature of the picture.  I was thinking yesterday about all of my closest girlfriends.  They are all different shapes, sizes, colors, and personalities.  I couldn’t imagine it any other way.  I think they are amazing.  Beautiful.  Gorgeous.  And yet when I look at my own image in the mirror I struggle with the stretch marks and the issues I think I have with my own body or personality, or whatever the daily insecurity might be.  Is it that way for everyone?  I wonder about that often.  Do we all get up and literally compare ourselves to others and stare in the mirror with momentary disgust.  Sometimes I wish I could trade places with them, just so they could see how amazing they are in my eyes.  Even though the hypocrisy is that I will continue to pick myself apart, I don’t want them to do it.  Funny, huh? We need to learn to accept ourselves, and as women learn to lift one another up instead of tearing one another down.  Everyone faces hard times, I think sometimes we forget that.  You step out of the darkness in to the light, and sometimes have to step back to remember to live with compassion and empathy, to understand that we all face those insecure moments.

My mother said I must always be intolerant of ignorance but understanding of illiteracy. That some people, unable to go to school, were more educated and more intelligent than college professors.


I needed to sit down and write all week.  I just haven’t had the time.  I started a new book months ago and it’s just been collecting dust.  I was contemplating posting a chapter of it here.  And then I decided against it, the thought of it being copied by someone else was too much.  Maybe the feedback would encourage me to sit down and open up my imagination once again, but losing this project would kill me.
So I will share some poetry this week. I hope you all have a fabulous weekend!  And as always connect with me here, and on Facebook in two different locations.
I would love to see some of your summer memories this far in to the season!  You can send them to me via email tiffanyluvwright@gmail.com. Send us your summer memories and stories by July 15th and we will compile them in to a grand display for the blog.
Please keep in mind that if you share and add the back story from the photo we will use them here on the blog for others to see.  So be particular and aware of the amount of traffic we see.

When someone shows you who they are, believe them the first time.



The Hive Publications and my fan page.

We look forward to connecting with you.

p.s. Looking forward to celebrating a 1 year anniversary with this handsome guy!  ————->———> Living proof that hope and faith, and serendipity truly do exist.

ser·en·dip·i·ty

: luck that takes the form of finding valuable or pleasant things that are not looked for

Live, love
Always. 

Tiffany

When he held her as they slept,
their breathing slowly crept,
to a rhythmic union. 

He finally understood,
why the tide came to hold the shore, 
morning after morning. 

And night after night.  

copyright 2014 Tiffany Luv Wright


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