Learning how to stay motivated to write can be a difficult task. Contrary to popular opinion, authors and creative writers
A wild woman is magical.
She oozes a charm that is rare.
She lives free, and seeks awareness.
She undresses your soul with her mind,
And, helps you see the magic in chaos.
If you try to tame her, she will intimidate you.
She belongs to no one except herself.
And, yet she gives a piece of her heart
To everyone that she crosses paths with.
~The Amrita Connection
My Michigan dream….
“Hush my sweet baby, don’t you cry. I am here ,I shall never leave you, when the chills of the night come, I shall keep you warm and safe. You are my love, my reason to dance upon the earth.”
She knew the language of the sea, she knew the language of the grassy fields and she knew the language of the flesh.
She awoke my wintry heart with her emerald eyes and how she frolicked with the Lake Huron waves.
She was a carefree wonder and a miracle, making my slumberous heart learn to sing again.
Lovely-may, lovely may-not, lovely be kind.
My lady of the lake made my lovelorn woes become distance and faraway.
I gave her wildflowers for her hair and I told her. She was my earnest wish and she made me want a glorious life, a everlasting wish of happiness in her…
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The first time his eyes met hers
Certainty clouded his mind, he knew
He knew this was it, no hide and seek
But how did he really know?
He says he just did
The first time his hand met hers
Doubts were no where near
He felt a current wave in the right direction
How did he really feel these things?
He says he just did
The first time he made contact with her warmth
He had no reason to be unsure of the things he felt
George Benson and Roberta Flack played in his mind
Why did he think the lyrics provided certainty?
He says he just did
The first time she smirked at him
Joy and relief swept through the streets of his heart
All he wanted to feel till infinity was this
How sure was he that this was it?
He says he just did
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How do you know you’re in love ?
How many times do you really fall in love in a lifetime?
How do you decipher between what’s love and what’s not?
How do you know when you just want it to be love but clearly it isn’t ?
Do you just hope the universe listens to you?
Do you just hang unto a false sense or hope?
Do you keep doing you?
How do you even act?
Do your actions change?
Do they die out or get better?
How do you know it’ll last or not?
Is there really a manual to this thing?
Or is it designed to specification?
How do you figure the specification?
How do you fall out of love?
How can you unlove a love song?
How do you even stay in love?
What controls it?
What really is love?
I say love lives…
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Come and Enjoy this from Cynthia!
Facing a blank page
waiting for inspiration
is akin to the early morning hours –
when no one else is up,
not even the sun.
Its newness and freshness
has a daunting yet hopeful quality.
I simply love the mornings.
And now I am learning to love
the empty page.
Just like each day,
there are times
when I falter,
filling the white space with nonsense
and disappointing myself.
But when creativity shows up,
when I am engaged in the flow
of divine connection,
nothing else matters.
I have found Presence
If only each moment
could be like this!
And then I remember,
Each moment can.
I just need to stay awake
and get out of my own way.
Copyright@ Cynthia Cady Stanton, 2017
I like to get up before the sun does.
It is a kind of race
to greet the day first, for
being alone in the stillness of the morning
When I walk in the quiet
of my slumbering neighborhood,
and I can look up at the moon
and the stars,
and feel the crisp morning air
on my sleepy skin,
I am like a wakening flower bud.
I open to the promise
of a new day –
of being in fresh light.
I am a rare creature, I know.
Few would take the covers off so early
to brave the chill.
But me? I just get some coffee in me,
bundle up, and go.
It is the most liberating time of my day –
for yesterday has been filed away…
and it is just me, the stars,
So, I lift up my voice
and sing, joining…
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The empties are all around us
They walk and talk like confidence
But that is simply to fool us
People consumed by pettiness
They care more for appearance
The newest style,
The coolest friends,
Love to them is not happiness
When the mask falls down
She is shrunken, unhappy
Her life wasted tricking the world;
But that was the mask
She did nothing for herself,
Only the mask
And the master of the mask is really the slave
And the mask has friends
And the mask has faith
And the mask has joy
And she has none
And the mask is pretty
And the mask is tough
And the mask is perfect
And she is not
She cloaks herself in happiness;
Takes pride in prettiness
But the boys care not for her soul
Just the package in which she comes
And her friends care not for her
Just the weight…
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Every time you feel broken,
Think of yourself as unfinished,
A first draft of a mystery novel
Whose plot twists can be edited
A hundred times over before
The final version is published.
What if you could rewrite everything
And, imagination is your only hindrance?
Indulge in that day dreaming.
If your mind cannot conceive
The life that you want
How do you expect the Universe
To conspire and make it happen?
You may not have felt seen yet.
You may not have felt heard yet.
You may not have loved your deepest yet.
You may not have lived everywhere yet.
The key word is yet.
You are the creator of your own destiny.
It may take you more time
To arrive at your masterpiece,
But, don’t let it not happen
Because you don’t believe in yourself yet.
Because you haven’t surrendered
Your spirit to it yet.
Beauty comes from…
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Are you looking for information on how to stay motivated in the summertime? It can be difficult to get your