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100,000 Words of Love (Excerpt Nov. 8, 2024)

I hope you can begin to find your footing in a world which slants and skews as you try to move forward. There may be no more rhyme or reason to its shifting and slewing, no rhythm or cadence that can be anticipated for the great dance. It’s tempting then to want to shuffle slowly, to be cautious, and to try to hold onto something or someone to help you balance, but it all comes down to the core, really.

Once your center is solid, firmed, and defined then your sense of self can be the steadying force in your life, and each movement forward will grow in strength, and grace, and confidence. Until then, exercise your senses, your muscles, your mind, and your inner ear so that you can hear the flow of spirit and stay true to yourself.

Don’t be daunted by times past where you feel you might have wasted time or effort and let go of the feeling of having been robbed. Without violence, bring an awareness of your decisions to the forefront, and examine the pressures upon you rejecting any which do not align with what you want and with the direction you want to take your life.

Like a rudder, adjust in small smooth movements, and let the changes gradually move you in the right direction. Unless there is about to be a big crash, take back control of your life with quiet determination and a sense of responsibility.

I love how you are learning to be flexible and proactive. Try to find some good in every day and don’t give up on yourself.

Your sense of humor is a wondrous thing, and I’m sure you will find it gracing you again soon.

Try to be patient with yourself and others.

Until the next cup of coffee, be gentle and honest,

!00,000 Words Of Love – Wendy Kheiry

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100,00 Words of Love (Excerpt Nov 7, 2023)

I’m so sorry that things have been so hard for you lately.

I know how hard it can be to focus on your goals when you feel like you are barely surviving.

I hope you know that I see you, when you struggle to find any purpose to your life.

Continue to keep your goals and activities private and work slowly and meticulously towards the goals you have set for yourself with writing, art, and music.

It is okay if the hits don’t hit, and if you feel awkward and bad at these things.

You are bad at them. You will only get better with continuing to apply your time and effort towards them in a way that is enjoyable as well as productive.

I know it’s a continuous challenge for you to try and remain hopeful when you feel your own place in the world is so fragile.

Things will get better eventually. I believe that for you.

My wish for you is that your mind can settle and focus, and that your heart will heal.

Do not abandon yourself even when it seems that others have abandoned you.

Cherish your life as best you can. Be silly and awkward and human. It’s a delicious combination.

Maybe you’re not worth the time and effort to be cared for – admit how high maintenance you are.

What if you are, though, valuable, and precious and funny and smart and kind and worthy of love?

Would you hide behind the lies of your youth about your worth or would you rather develop yourself and your skills so you can take a good kind of pride in yourself and your work.

Just for yourself. Just for you. Just because you can.

That seems more empowering and a better way to spend your time than moaning over things you can’t control.

Cultivate some discipline in your life – food, exercise, rest, good boundaries, and just focus in on being there for yourself every day.

Until the next cup of coffee, be free and strong,

!00,000 Words Of Love – Wendy Kheiry
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Weeping For Abigail (poem – spoken)

Sunset certainly the sun glowed orange yellow pink

Near the lake by the huge weeping willow

Glinting lies rippling across the top of the water rustling

Now smooth

And it rained

Circles overlapping one another in impossibilities

It was always raining

The low clouds hugging the spirit in a damp uncomfortable grip

Meaty fingers digging into arms or thighs

Faint hint of juicy fruit gum and aquanet

I should pick better words for the sunset colors

What word is more pink than pink or that shade of orange which

Hovers and blends between the hot pink and the glowing yellow

Golden salmon peaches blues

And the dark dark water under the glinting

swallowing the colors

Until they shine palatable

The grey tabby brushes loose hairs against

Knee high socks

The design is lovely, not quite lace but pointelle

I want to pet her and I reach

The reprimand is as fast

I pet anyway

I belong to no one

Hissed rebukes and I will pay for it later

I would no matter what

Pets or no pets

The tabby and I are commiserating

There is too much noise and nodding and tight smiles

Grief stricken eyes but they don’t know the depth

And breadth of it

They think they weep for the person who died

That they weep for those of us left behind

But in the end I am sure

Everyone is weeping for Abigail

Look at her she purrs

Her fur is soft and gently striped

Her whiskers are white and stiff

A minister says he and she and they are with God now

And no longer in pain

The water glints

Are you sure about that

Why then do we weep for Abigail

If big Ned is no longer

And Sissy’s in the grave

And Aunt Delila’s coffin slowly lowered

And the dirt’s thrown down

A clod

Pad pad pad and a soft strike

Retracted claws and still there’s a snag

On a pointelle knee high sock

It’s grey too the socks

The corduroy dress, the thin kind not that

Ropey thick stuff

Shoes are tossed in a corner by a door

Wooden floors beg for sliding

Even as the dirt comes out in hushed whispers

No one is good enough to avoid speculation

Was it the pills or the heart

Had someone found out about a scandal

Was there a scandal

How scandalous that there’s nothing to speculate

Was he or she or they just boring and dull

And the sun is setting and setting and will never

Fall beyond the horizon and this is hell

This landscape of midwestern church clothes

And sensible shoes

And corduroy and tabby cats who speak in gestures

And rolling throat noises

Feet are sliding on the wooden floors and someone

Says stop that

And someone else says let her be she doesn’t understand

But we are all gathered together for ever

Weeping and weeping for Abigail

I’m sorry you are weeping too

I’m sorry no one escapes it

The Sun sets and the rain falls and the water

Absorbs more water and the circles overlap

And the weeping willow falls into the lake

Drowning

The earth has a gap now

A ripped up shredded space where a giant

Of motherly love once stood

The secret behind every tear drop

Is the how the blood of the tree flows

Without ceasing and everyone who has ever

Laid on the floor and cried

Or faced the ceiling as silent tears slide onto a pillow

Weeps for Abigail

All weeping for Abigail

And they don’t know it yet

But when they lie stiff in satin lined boxes

Wearing the nicest set of clothes they hated

Their spirit has finally understood what it means

Because the stocking covered feet no longer slide on the wooden floor

No one is there to pet the grey tabby

There’s no thighs or arms to pinch and grab

No laughter shouting crying out defiant

There is a ghost animating a body

Abigail is dead and they can’t see her until

They cross the veil

They know then they were always weeping for Abigail

They know then they were always Abigail

A ghost animating a body and not understanding

The glinting of light on the water

Or how sunset lasts forever

Or that it’s good to be notorious