encouragement, Human Behaviour, Human Nature, Humanity, inspirational

Nothing Prospers Yesterday

Nothing in the world will prosper yesterday. Yesterday does not exist save for our memories. It cannot be taken back and tweaked, and yesterday is a reminder that we live in the present.

No future plans will be turn out as we imagine, and how can we imagine anyway? The future is out of our reach. Planning is healthy, but expecting the perfect result may always disappoint. And it may surprise us. Humans were not designed to know the future, and there’a good reason for that. If we know our future, it could very well blow our minds. No psychic can truly see your future. Some people are truly gifted; however, the future events of our lives are not entirely predictable. There are too many variables. It’s my belief psychics can pick up impressions from the present, and guide persons into a decision, but who has learned the exact future from a person who is sensitive? In my experience, I paid too much to raise my own expectations.

Focus energy on today. Our days have twenty-four hours, and those hours are split into dark and light—to be awake and to be asleep. Fill days with hope, find solace in a good days work or play. Get a good night’s sleep after a busy day.

Today will turn into tomorrow—what have we done to enter into tomorrow? Have we succeeded at something? Will we? Tomorrow waits, but for today, dream, because dreams and goals are healthy. We enter into tomorrow with that dream.  What takes years to do always happens in our todays, and it could be this day we reach a lifetime goal.

Thanks for reading.

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Addictions, Human Behaviour, Human Nature, Humanity, parental losses

Dear Unpublished Name

PRIVATE PAIN

Please come and share with me,

I promise not to judge.

I see the pain in your eyes,

so young… I hold no grudge.

I care to know about you,

what takes way your sun,

and I wish to be there for you,

if dark days have begun.

I ask your pillow sometimes,

why tears have run from you.

I wonder what each stain there means,

and then I cry some too.

Nothing you could ever do

would turn me away from you,

so never be afraid.

I have much love for you that’s true.

You are changing

and I am too.

Do you know

that I grow with you?

Each step that you take,

I am there in shoes

that lace up with your learning days

with double knots tied for two.

God has placed you in my hands.

He blessed me to teach and love.

So always know I do,

and no matter what happens to you,

in my heart, it happens for me too.

Always remember, I love you,

I know you and I need you.

We shall reunite again

because I filled your heart

with teachings of loyalty

to last your lifetime long….

© Lynn P. Penner, 2003

Some things just don’t end well no matter what anyone does to help.

2018

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Human Behaviour, Humanity, millennial children, undisciplined grandchildren

The Changes Regarding Parents’ Rights

Baby boomers, both my husband and myself. We grew up with rules, and we didn’t make decisions about what we ate and when, about bedtime, or if we went to school or not. And if we disrespected our parents and other authoritative figures, there were most definitely consequences.

Why did the rules change? Why do little children get to decide so much these days? When did it become all right to show little to no respect? Why are parents giving up the driver’s seat? Why are they surprised when their unmanageable little ones become manipulative, defiant teenagers? And why does everyone have to get a trophy in competitions?

Moreover, why do parents turn to the internet to raise their kids now rather than asking a parent. Grandparents are called grand for a reason. Grand experience, skill, knowledge, understanding, background, maturity. Wisdom.

Why is my daughter teaching her kids to scream it out when they get frustrated? My grandson could’t get his zipper undone. “Just scream… and breathe.” Scream? Are kids no longer being encouraged to cope at five years old? I’m the grandmother of twins and I’m telling you, it’s double mayhem. There seems to be a confusion in this day and age about the difference between discipline and abuse. And we grandparents are to step back and watch the decline of our future adult population. If we offer our opinion, we’re given twenty-five excuses as to why our logic, which has sustained society for  centuries, is terribly wrong.

I’m not the only one who feels this way, yet it’s one of those things we don’t talk about much. Although our grandkids are not our children to raise, isn’t there still an element of shame in our cheeks when we see how those we did raise well are failing at the essential task of being in control of their own kids? Didn’t we teach skills of coping with frustration? Didn’t we teach manners, like being grateful for birthday and Christmas gifts with a thank-you said rather than a gift thrown to the floor in distain? Didn’t we teach about eating proper food before getting dessert? Did we not teach our kids to greet company and say good-bye also? I’m sure I’ve not mentioned it all, but I bet you get the point if you have grandchildren whose parents think we and our ways are old and outdated. Silver hair, invisible being. Wasted wisdom.

Perhaps not. It could be your grandkids are well behaved, and you’re comfortable taking them anywhere. If this is the case, I must say I feel exceedingly glad for you. You have sensible grown children who’ve accepted old-school logic.

What makes the difference? Why are some millennial parents better at getting good results? Well, I can only assume your grandchildren are being raised not by the internet, but instead with your input when needed, and good information in published books by reputable publishers. Good parents these days know how to say no and stick to it. Consistency outshines giving in to fear of children being displeased and not being their parents’ buddy.

I’m genuinely interested to know who out there finds the discipline lacking and tension growing. Who, despite raising your own children to the best of ability, are experiencing the hardship of keeping your mouth shut while watching chaos develop?

Thanks for reading. Leave a comment to agree or disagree. I’m looking for input.

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Human Behaviour, Human Nature, Humanity, Spiritual

A Micro Second Death Face

I remember the headlights and the shiny bumper on the white SUV. I was swerving and my husband was yelling at me, “You’re going to roll the car!”

The only thing separating vehicles from other vehicles on the road is about five feet of air and an imaginary do not cross barrier. What are drivers on these days? How many believe they’re experienced drivers who are immune to the effects of alcohol or hard drugs, or marijuana for the argument? Or was he texting?

My car didn’t roll, but I felt the unsteady jerking beneath me. I had swerved to the right towards the soft, gravel shoulder, and the SUV driver swerved to the left, missing my little Hyundai Accent by mere inches, tucking himself back in. He couldn’t see us when he thought he could pass? There was no warning. He drove out directly in front me.

That’s all I remember. My husband yelling, near tipping of my car, and the white SUV’s headlights and shiny bumper.

My life is forever changed.

Everything I have worked for, everyone I have loved or not loved, every sticky note I’ve written to remind myself of something wouldn’t matter beyond the micro second that it takes to die, then leave my body, and watch the vehicles embrace, in a crunching tangle from my soul floating 20 feet above. I’d look for my husband as he was extracted. He’d be limp and bent unnaturally. I’d try to see myself behind the battered face I used to recognize. The emergency team would pull my squashed body out. I’d see my husband looking, too. We’d then see each other hovering above the chaos, and we’d remember the discussions we so often had about dying together as neither of us could bear the emptiness if we were left behind. Also, there he would be, the drunk driver being extracted from his white SUV. He’d be bloodied and crying, repeatedly saying he’s so sorry. He’d be banged up, but he’d see his loved ones again. He’d finish projects, he’ll drink again.

He’ll forget about the people he killed when he drinks himself to sleep, but the dead will be there every time he wakes.

Nothing would matter anymore. Not my novel which was accepted by a trustworthy publisher, not the closet I meant to clean out, not the computer I am writing this on— nothing. Not a thing would matter. Our lives would matter to all who had to receive the dreaded news, though. Our grown kids, our friends. Our bosses. Our innocent cats who always wait to hear the door open would be surprised as family came in to do what had to be done. Maybe our cats would pine to death in a shelter, separated from us and each other.

None of this death aftermath happened, though, but my life has changed nonetheless.

Thank God we are alive. No one can tell me God didn’t have the last say at that near head on collision. Why am I here? I’m going to find out. We all should find out why we’re here. A micro second wipe out could be anyone’s ultimate fate, but when?

Live before you leave. Really, really live. God Bless.

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Humanity

World Disasters

The most frightening thing in the world is losing our world. Everything we worked to have, everything we love, and people we love, even out pets.

I feel deeply for those affected by fires, floods and earthquakes.

My prayers are with the scared, the injured, and those left to carry on without loved ones and beloved pets.

If you’re reading this, you’re safe. Thank God.

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Humanity, technology

Cell and Chain

PING-DING-RING THING

What started out as fun has become, well, not fun. And dangerous perhaps.

I’m driving and I see this kid propped up by his handlebars, on a banana seat and he half-ass steers himself away from me. He lifts his face and takes a brief, hurried look at the road, but not me. I slow down, look at him texting on his rusty handlebars. Wait now… yeah—no—he’s on Facebook. On a bike. On the road. I say, “Hey, guy. Are you not worried about getting hit?” I think it sounded like I was patient and calm. Good. ‘Cause I feel like I appeared snotty. Kids have a sense of entitlement; I very much dislike their attitudes. Nonetheless, I love teens.

He let his foot drag and stopped the bike. He shrugs, shakes his head. He said, “Who made you the texting police?” Pushes off and scrolls, peddling slowly.

I want to get mad and tell him he’s dense. But I feel sorry for the kid. He’s riding alone, but in the company of Facebook users. What does this kid do when winter storms fill the roads? I suppose he just walks. He seems to be going nowhere, and maybe it doesn’t matter if he arrives anywhere. Traffic was coming, I had to move on. I said, “Careful, okay?”

He nodded, and I think the corner of his mouth raised his cheek. Briefly, though. Just for a sec.

When we baby boomers were that kid’s age, we all had bikes and we ran in packs. We didn’t even know what a cordless house phone was. We had Packman, Archie magazines, and we twisted the curly phone cord around our fingers while making plans to meet up or drop by each others’ homes. If our parents were on the phone we walked blocks and blocks to each others’ home. We did not know that so-and-so just made delicious spaghetti. We didn’t know what a profile pic was. Photos were at home in an album or box. Summer nights we played hide and go seek in neighbours’ back yards. The people in my neighbourhood couldn’t afford fences, so we got it goin’, running like untamed beasts.

Humans are distracted by ping-ding-ring thing noises.  Some keep their phone off, many do not. My hubby is a commodities relocation manager. This means he drives transport. He gets lonely and bored, so my cell phone rings off his Bluetooth. It makes me tense when I’m driving. I hope nothing has happened to him. A pretty Zen harp. I used to like it, but I throw up a little in my throat when it rings now. I think I’m an introvert, pretty sure. I couldn’t be hooked into the texting thing or social media on the go. I prefer to write in peace on my desktop, and go out to get away from me. If that makes any sense? To me it’s a cell and chain, I’d have it off mostly if I didn’t have to be available in case my hubby got hurt on the highway.  No ping-ding-ring thing all day long for me, thanks.

I am curious, however, about how humans manage the distractions of the cell sounds.  I have the attention span of a common goldfish, so I just won’t deal with such interruptions when I’m trying not to speed in my car. ADD they said. That means Attentional Daydream Disorientation. Not so bad; not ideal.

Thanks for reading~

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Humanity

Is Being Highly Emotional a Disorder?

EXQUISITELY STRUCTURED MINDS

Emotionally sensitive individuals have exquisitely structured minds—imaginative, creative, expressive, perceptive, and sensitive—and we’re highly responsive because of this.

Is being highly emotional a disorder? Perhaps it is. That being said, our emotions are a part of being human, so how is it that being inordinately spiritual is a disorder? That in itself isn’t really a disorder per say, because each and every human is overly emotional at one time or another. Watching sports causes emotional outbursts, the birth of our children causes elation, death of loved ones causes profound sadness, etcetera. Emotions are spiritual responses. They come from within us, from our hearts and souls.

Some are more prone to display emotions than others. We who laugh and cry easily, feel indignant, feel a rush of joy, or tear up simply because we see our friend or lover crying, we’re intuitive.  We feel compassion and love, joy, peace. We have faith, gentleness, kindness, meekness—and self control—apparently except for total control of our emotions. And we might be closer to the spiritual realm of God than we think. We were designed in an extraordinary way, after all. It’s a gift to be sensitive, because seeing beyond the surface and conveying emotions through medium is a gift. Ask anyone who loved Robin Williams’ acting or comedy routines. God rest that man’s soul. Bipolar depression trapped him in despair for one last time. I know I’m not the only one who shed salty sadness when that news landed.

Mostly, emotions are temporal, though. We feel and release them, but letting our emotions make decisions isn’t helpful. God guides, emotions glide. We need to release tears as much as anger or laughter. Release it and move on.

Being highly emotional is not a disorder. Some humans’ sensitive feelings and reactions are more prominent, that’s all. We sensitive characters in life are the poets and writers, the artists, the actors, and the counsellors.

Thank God for feelings and imagination. Thank God for those emotional humans who write greeting cards.

Fellow human spirits, have an emotionally rich day and a wonderfully peaceful night.

© L. P. Penner, 2015

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