Category: writing
takings from, Whitman’s Leaves of Grass
I exist as I am, that is enough
If no other in the world be aware, I sit content
And if each and all be aware I sit content.
Whoever degrades another degrades me…
and whatever is done or said,
returns at last to me,
And whatever I do or say I also return.
The pleasures of heaven are with me,
and the pains of hell are will me,
The first I graft and increase upon myself..
the latter I translate into a new tongue.
I am the poet of the woman the same as the man,
And I say it is great to be a woman as to be a man.
And I say there is nothing greater than the mother of men.
And as to you life, I reckon you are the leavings of many deaths,
No doubt I have died myself ten thousand times before.
i dont mind dirt under my nails
you are so brave and quiet I forget you are suffering
-Hemingway
i dont mind dirt under my nails
You are so brave and quiet, I forget you are suffering
-Hemingway
For a rustic effect wrap your pots in coconut basket liners and tie with brown string. You can buy basket liners from nursery and hardware stores. If you cut them down the middle and open each piece up they will wrap easily around the pots, then secure with the string and trim off any excess. They look really nice when all placed in an area together like on a window sill or book shelf. A little winter indoor garden. For easy watering just place all the pots in the kitchen sink basket liners and all.
words
if there is a place where i ask the questions, it is here, with dirt under my nails and new life resting in my hands. It is here that I hear the sound of my own voice, where life speaks volumes in it’s all alluring silence. It is here where my creativity begins and always ends with a pen and notebook in hand.
mothers
mothers
He asks,
‘What is it you do?
I’m a mother
‘Yes, I know that but what else, before that?
She feels her heart drop to the pit of her stomach , as she frantically searches her mind for a more suitable answer.
A mother, just a mother.
He is oblivious in the knowing, that in that moment all worthiness was stripped away and her heart was silently crying an abundance of tears
For the self she is yet to know and the self she has whole heartedly given to her children.
when did it become not enough? when was it that becoming a mother became so undervalued? It is true, there are parts of myself, parts that are not a mother or a wife but are simply me. They are most of the time in the shadows or only seen as a glimpse now and again and as mothers, the caretakers of our families we know only too well that this is a selfless journey we have chosen. We move through our days nurturing and nourishing our families by meeting needs and with an abundance of love. Often allowing all those who matter most to us to move on their journeys ahead of our own. We wait patiently, maybe for only a few minutes of solitude, or a full nights sleep, or enough time to take a bath, read a chapter in a book, or a pause long enough to feel the warmth of the sun on our faces, maybe the bigger things we will have to wait a little longer for.
It is undeniably deplorable that the very words ‘ I am a mother’ are so often perceived as insignificant and demeaning. That even I, when asked this was not able to convey my own importance and sacrifices here, that I was, in that moment diminished to feeling like it wasn’t enough. I believe that if it wasnt for mothers, so many that are blessed to be living up to their ambitious dreams and walking the journeys that they have chosen for themselves without the need to pause or defer to raise the children, might look upon us in a new light and with gratitude in their hearts. 
St GEORGIA & Boo 