I’ll be cutting back on blogging for a few weeks while I work on some things. I will also spin some posts and will still publish the guest blogs from authors hoping to promote their work here. I hope that is proving beneficial for those taking part.
She comes into your life and brings nature’s blessing. And with her entrance comes a curse of wanton passion. The grass is still alive as it blazes in the sun. The chorus of our laughter floats gently in the Spring breeze. We are the definition of love and our hands are linked as we dance amongst the growing and the grown alike. We enjoy timeless sunsets on picturesque settings creating canvases waiting to be painted at each moment. We love.
Time works wonders and bonds grow firm. We resolve to walk quietly into the night together. Hands held tightly against the shadows we once faced alone. We pick each other up in the heat of the Summer, against the blazing sun and humanity’s punishment. We turn as one, in unison with one another’s needs. I am your need and you are mine. And like an oak tree we grow together.
The rain has come and we have weathered storms. We still touch… but sometimes our hands Fall like leaves from our tired limbs. The chatter of children running around our base keeps us united, we are still united with finger painted signs and chalk figures. But some nights are cold and the moon shines two shadows upon the ground.
It snows here in Denver. The Winter seems to be most of the year… at least lately. But even with the constant ice, it does melt with the strength of will. A will we share each morning and return to each night. The seasons form a timeless ring that hardens into a golden promise. They touch each time our hands unite with infused emotion. Regardless of what emotion that is the presence of feelings means that we still care.
We’re sorry to report that your project, HarsH ReaLiTy, didn’t meet its funding goal.
We know how much hard work goes into running a project. You’ve made tremendous progress by launching and working to build a community around your idea.
As you’re figuring out your next steps, don’t forget to keep your backers in the loop. They’re your biggest fans and are probably interested in following along with your progress. You can post an update or send them a message to let them know about your plans for your project.
Let us knowif there’s anything that we can do to help along the way.
Do you ever get the feeling that you can’t just say “hello, how are you” to a Christian without hearing the inevitable “by the way…” I normally either fake a heart attack when I hear those words, which only works once a year or so or people begin to catch on that you are faking a heart attack, or I pull out my cell and call someone. I have gotten very good at this actually, it is kind of like a Wild West draw sort of technique. I’d be willing to demonstrate for everyone if I did YouTube.com videos… but then I would have to register these hands of fury…
Ever get preached at? My family was part of a large group of “Southerners” that converted to the Eastern Antiochian Orthodox faith as a “movement.” There were literally hundreds of churches involved in this from Pentecostals, Presbyterians, and Methodists that were all seeking something different. My father was a Presbyterian Preacher before converting and becoming an Orthodox Priest. It was a huge deal, but the problem I observed was that we “as a whole” would never shake that “newly converted feeling.” Even to this day, some 30 years of being an Orthodox Christian, I still feel like a newcomer. It sucks and it also shows why many of us never felt the “push or need” to try and “convert the world.” I also UNDERSTAND why others do… I just don’t always see the necessity to verbally assault people like some Christians do.
It reminds me of preacher week at UT Knoxville. I don’t know if they still do this, but there was a “week” where preachers of all religions (mostly Southern based Christian churches though) were able to come and evangelize to the students. They basically sat there and told everyone they were going to hell, shouted it actually. It was something else, if you have never seen a “heated religious debate” this would have been eye candy. Students were having to be held back and police monitored while preachers and people alike yelled the vilest stuff in each other’s faces. The most amusing part was that everyone was probably “Christian.”
I would avoid these “gatherings of humanity” and it furthered my resolve that religious debate just doesn’t serve much purpose. It only creates enemies and even the most amicable of friends can come to furious blows over a difference in what happens when they die. I honestly don’t care what happens to most humans when they die, only my family and closest friends. Just as long as your spirit doesn’t collide with mine and send me spiraling in an alternate… direction… we are good.
She draws upon herself with beautiful knives of steel. With each stroke she paints a picture of her pain… with pain. Each cut produces a blossom of relief followed by a single tear of desire. A yearning for relief so strong is present that the hand acts without thought. It creates etch marks upon the arms and legs to mark the turning of each page. Another chapter of depression is finished, marked by the flowing of blood. They form droplets of periods and commas on the floor that highlight the desire of the moment. The emptiness of the page that follows reveals more than a lack of desire to write. The absence of a picture paints the image of pain that would be understated by words. It is instead underlined by the “swishing” of a razor and a pained smile of contentment.