Author Archives: Patricia Ann

It’s a Doggie Dog World

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Tyra 1

It never ceases to amaze me how we can hear the same words over and over in our lives and yet misinterpret them so profoundly. For instance, a young lady among my youngest son’s teenage friends had often heard her parents discussing the news as “it’s a dog eat dog world out there”. She really tickled us one day by referring to a particular news story, and drawing the conclusion that “it’s a doggie dog world out there”. Thinking of this memory brought to mind all the dogs that have touched my life in one way or another over the years, including beautiful Tyra, one of my nine grand-dogs who went to doggie heaven at Easter time this year, just before her fourteenth birthday. Thinking about all these pets reminded me of a poem I wrote back in 1974 when my own dog, Penny, was forever running away to play in a nearby stream. The  poem has nothing to do with that, though. I don’t even know how it inhabited my brain, but here it is.

WOE IS MOE

I have this dog, his name is Moe

he follows me wherever I go.

While tackling my daily jog

I’m followed by this doggone dog!

He cramps my style

I tell him “Scram!”

But soon he reappears with Sam.

Sam is Moe’s best pal, you see

and now they both are dogging me.

At last I’ve done half a lap

but Moe and Sam have done the track.

Joined by Jigs along the way,

these dogs think I am out to play.

Now jogging isn’t play to me,

I take it very seriously,

until I looked around and found

we’d added quite a large greyhound.

Now Grey and Jigs and Sam and Moe

all follow me wherever I go.

It follows that I gave up jogging

and the dogs have had to give up dogging.

Now I sit at home and pine

for some good old dogless jogging time.

©1974

I’m aiming for a little humor today. Is anyone out there smiling?

MY SAVIOR AT THE WELL

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For a very long time I have identified with the Samaritan woman at the well with Jesus in John 4. I have pictured myself sitting there with Him and having Him put me at ease about my lifestyle. And then one day as I was reading her story (for the umpteenth time) the following words came to me, and a new  poem was born. Here, then, is My Savior at the Well.
Oh, that it was I who met our Savior at the well,

The joy of meeting face to face

would all my fears dispel.

To hear Him tell my story,

all the things I’d ever done,

would make me cry, “I’m sorry, Lord,

I know you are God’s Son.”

To see compassion in His eyes

as He looked into my own,

to hear Him say he took my sins

with Him to the tomb.

To feel His touch upon my brow,

His love upon my heart,

to hear my Savior say to me,

“You have a brand new start.”

“Go, my child, and sin no more,

your faith has made you whole.”

He who met her at the well now lives within my soul.

©2007

There is some amazing poetry being blogged here on WordPress. I love, among others, The Sanctuary of My Heart by Skye, and Wordsmith’s Desk by Butch Dean. I bless the day these bloggers came my way!

Feelings

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Here is something different. In one of my writing books, the exercise was to describe in your own words the meaning of certain feelings we all experience–to just write down the first thing that comes to mind. It’s unfortunate that I don’t always note where I read these things, thereby giving credit to whoever dreams them up, but the truth is I don’t. In any case here is my take on the following feelings.

What is happy?  It is a light airy feeling that bubbles inside me out of the blue sometimes.

What is frustration?  It is a tear your hair out feeling when you can’t get through to someone.

What is sadness?  It is a pain in the heart and a lump in the throat for the pain of others.

What is anger?  It is a boiling feeling of inner turmoil.

What is love?  It is an overwhelming feeling of gratitude and a heart bursting feeling.

What is scared?  It is a pee-your-pants weak-in-the-knees queasy feeling.

What is joy?  It is bigger than happy, bigger than love, and contains them both.

What is pettiness?  It is not a good feeling once you have participated in it.

What is excited?  It is the thought of something new coming your way, something new to explore and have good feelings about.

What is adventurous?  Doing something you have never done before regardless of the consequences.

What is critical?  Not letting people be themselves, always correcting or trying–picky, picky.

That was a good exercise, and I found it enlightening.

Sometimes it pays to pay attention to our feelings, and not just take them for granted. Especially anger–who needs that?

The Bible expounds on feelings over and over again, and the most popular of these is love. Just look in any concordance to see how many times love is mentioned…1 Corinthians 13 is a great example..But the greatest of these is love. (verse 13)

Comments?

Seventy Times Seven

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Today I am going to post a full chapter from my now published book, My Precious Life.  It can be found at Amazon.com, Amazon.Ca, Westbow Press, and many other online book stores. As well, copies will be available through me for residents of Ontario, and some other provinces. And now, Seventy Times Seven:

A Lesson in Forgiveness

The anger I carried inside was making me sick. It felt like a grapefruit-size growth taking up precious space in my body, threatening to annihilate me, and it was directed at my husband. We had recently separated, and it was not amicable. Bill’s verbal abusiveness and alcohol dependence had taken its toll on our twenty-one year marriage.

One day, my sister came to visit. She knew about the separation, but did not know the details. I had shared these with no one. Eyeing me over the rim of her coffee cup, Mary bluntly said, “Patsy, you look very unhappy.” Astute observation, I thought. Suddenly, I was spilling over with words of rage, anger, hate and hurt; all the emotions that made up that grapefruit inside me.

“I hate him so much it’s making me sick,” I told her.

“Have you prayed about it?” Mary asked.

“No,” I admitted, “I haven’t.”

It was food for thought, and I chewed on it for several days before finally crying out to God, “Please help me to stop hating him!” But the feeling was still there. I prayed to be released from the agony of negative emotions my life had become. You need to go to church. It was a pop-up thought out of the blue. I remembered the quaint little church one of our daughters had been married in. It reminded me of a small country church from my childhood.

One Sunday morning found me sitting in a sun-bathed pew, listening to a sermon on a part of The Lord’s Prayer; a prayer I had memorized since my high-school days.

Give us this day our daily bread, was this week’s message. The pastor had been giving a series of sermons on this popular prayer, and I wished I had heard the previous messages. It was comforting being in the hushed sanctuary, hearing the sermon, and listening to hymns and prayers, but when I left, my grapefruit was still with me. The following Sunday, the sermon was on forgiveness.

“Holding hatred and anger towards others can make us sick,” Rev. MacNeill said. “We have to learn to forgive.”

He quoted a scripture in which Jesus told his disciple, Peter, he must forgive, not only seven times, but seventy times seven. I left the church with those words reeling around in my head. My new prayer was, God, please help me to forgive, seventy times seven. It didn’t happen overnight, but gradually the hate began to dissolve, and the grapefruit with it.

I continued going to church, and found solace there week after week. The love I had allowed to be smothered began to resurface, and life became liveable again. One day, Bill phoned to rant and rave about something real, or imagined, as was his custom. I stayed silent until the tirade was over.

“Pat, are you there?” he yelled.

“I am,” I said, “and I love you.”

Where did those words come from? His incredulous, “What?” prompted my next words.

“I love you, Bill, but not in a romantic way. I love you seventy times seven.”

I had found that forgiveness and love went hand in hand.

Thereafter, communication was more reasonable, and in the end we became friends, and remained so until his dying day many years later.

“Lord, how many times shall I forgive my brother when he sins against me? Up to seven times?” Jesus answered, “I tell you, not seven times, but seventy times seven.” (Matthew 18:21,22)

Imagination Unlimited

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Below is another example of where one of my writing books led me.

Undirected freefall (stream of consciousness) August 9, 2002. Revised August 27, 2002 and again June 21, 2006:

I woke up this morning and thought about how all the people in my life had been waiting to meet me. When I peeked out from my mother’s womb and into the future, I saw them, and realized that I had to be born to meet them; my parents, grandparents, great-grandparents, aunts, uncles, cousins, foster parents.

Starting school, I met more people waiting to meet me: school chums and their parents, teachers, principals, coaches, my future husband(s). Then came work, and I met more people; bosses, co-workers. When I got married there was a whole new group of people waiting to enter my life; my children, grandchildren, more friends, neighbors, and relatives-in-law.

It was like driving to work one morning and just seeing the road go off into the future, and wondering where it was taking me. I felt the car rise off the road as I sat behind the wheel calmly surveying the scenery below me. Then I was on a highway in the sky, seeing everything at once. (Like the movie, Chitty Chitty Bang Bang.)

Was I finally going to see what life was all about? Would I look down and see everything as it should be: my life, my work, my family, my spouse and the things I would like to have done differently? Where did I go wrong in my life? Why did I allow so much bad stuff into my subconscious?

From this distance can I just blot it all out, cause a rain cloud to wash it away, and write a different scenario for my life? What would that be like? What would it be like if I had never heard the words, “money doesn’t grow on trees”, “you’re just like your father” (and he was supposed to be a bad person)…”they just live together…not married”. And what about that home for unwed mothers up the street from my teenage home? I felt sorry for those girls, but also intrigued. Where did their lives take them? Where did their babies go?

I can’t imagine my life without my babies; my own babies and their babies. I love my life. From a higher vantage point it looked pretty good.  I could see where I had lived a lot, learned a lot, cried a lot, laughed a lot, played a lot, worried a lot, and been hurt a lot. But life was good.

At this point, I just want to be there for all the people whose lives touch mine; all those people who were waiting to meet me, and who I went forth to embrace. God bless them, every one!

And now, it’s time to come down to earth.

I Am Published!

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This is a celebratory blog!

Today, after approving the author copies of My Precious Life, Westbow Press advised that the book is going to print tomorrow morning (or this morning, depending on your part of the world.)

I am thrilled and excited and can’t stop saying “Thank You, God!”

“Write in a book all the words I have spoken to you,” He said. And once started, the pages just kept filling up until the work was completed. That scripture, Jeremiah 30:2, has meant a lot to me this past year. It seemed like God was always whispering that encouragement in my ear. I’m so glad I listen to His still, small, voice. Like I wrote in the introduction to My Precious Life, it is exciting, and holy and fun.

So, to all my new blogger friends, My Precious Life is available at 25,000 online book stores around the world: Amazon.ca, Amazon.com, Amazon.uk, Westbow Press/Christian Book Store, Barnes and Noble, to name a few. If you choose to buy from your local book store, simply ask them if they carry it, and if not, would they order it for you.

The same goes for friends in California, Channel Islands, U.K., Australia, (except my grandsons; you guys get a complimentary copy!)

My Canadian friends have the option of purchasing directly from me, when the first shipment of five hundred books arrives on my doorstep.

Thank you so much for letting me share this very important life event with all of you; it means the world to me.

I never dreamed when I began blogging the excerpts from the first forty chapters of my book, that it would lead me to a host of interesting people in cyberspace. Every day there is a brand new reading experience to look forward to from all parts of the planet.

It will be wonderful if those of you who purchase My Precious Life would share your thoughts on the book by leaving a comment on my blog site.

And now, I’m off to bed with a song in my head, “To God be the glory, great things He has done….”

About Celeste

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After yesterday’s blog, someone asked me to write about Celeste. Although Celeste resides, among other places, on the menu, My Poetry, of my blog’s home page, not many people appear to be aware of that site.

Let me tell you a little bit about this special angel of mine.

The Mustard Seed Gift Shop was my home away from home for almost fourteen years of my life. It was my “pretty little gift shop” as I liked to refer to it. One day a shipment of beautiful porcelain dolls arrived, and one in particular caught my eye. She was dressed in a lovely, emerald green, sharply pleated dress with matching hat, and had an angelic face with pretty green eyes.

Just before the shipment arrived, an assistant and I had been discussing whether or not angels had names, and I said I loved the name Celeste. When I decided to call this beautiful new doll by that name, my assistant commented, “Maybe that is your guiding angel’s name.” That thought stayed with me for the rest of the day, and was still on my mind as bedtime drew near that night.

The urge to communicate with my angel was so strong, that with pen and paper in hand, I said, “Okay, Celeste, if you really are my guiding angel, let’s write something.”

This is what appeared on my paper:

CELESTE

Longing to write

through an angel guide

the words I seek

come from deep inside

the heart of me

where they cannot hide

from Celeste.

Pen to paper

an open mind,

wonderful words

of every kind

waiting in turn

to blend and rhyme

through Celeste.

Softly the words

flow to me

spanning space

through a Spirit free,

God-sent words

reminding me

of Celeste.

Longing no longer

the time has come

the words will be written

great works will be done

by Celeste.

©Patricia Ann Boyes

That was so easy to write, and yes, the words did flow to me. Would you call this synchronicity in writing? I’m not sure, but whatever one may call it, it ended my day on a beautiful note, and Celeste has been in my consciousness ever since.

Do I Believe in God?

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Today’s blog is another Julia Cameron exercise, on the above title. It is really amazing how much delight I can get from a little exercise in writing. Perhaps it is because writing is my passion, or at least one of my passions. These daily blogs have been a blessing to me, keeping my creative juices flowing, while pushing my boundaries to complete one hundred blogs in as many days. By then my book should be out and maybe the blogs will go on a back burner for awhile…or maybe not. So, here is another of Julia’s inspiring exercises from 2002.

Do I believe in God? (Another exercise from Julia Cameron) Oct. 17/02

I believe in God with all my heart and all my soul and all my mind. If it were not for God my life would be a dismal mess.  God helps me see myself as I really am and so many times I don’t like what I see.  But knowing that He loves me in spite of myself makes me feel somewhat better.  Still, I need to change the things I don’t like about myself.

God has been so wonderful in my life; so many blessings, so many answered prayers.  He is always just a prayer away.  He helps me creatively as well.  I remember the night I prayed in my bed, “Oh God if I really do have a talent within me will you please bring it out?” The next day I wrote “God’s Summer Day” and have been writing ever since.  And I’m told  that what I write is enjoyed by many people.  And I say Thank You God!

 Do I believe in Angels?  Yes, very much so.  They are messengers of God and I have my very own angel code, so to speak.  I have written a story about my angels also.  I would really like to be more in touch with my angels.

Regarding a writing experience that was somewhat uncanny was my experience with Celeste.  To make a long story short a colleague had mentioned that Celeste might be my “angel”.  Anyway, I sat down that evening and said “ok Celeste, if you really are my angel, let’s write something”.

And we wrote “Celeste” and I think it is one of the better pieces I have written.

I am very willing to experiment with the use of synchronicity in my writing.  Perhaps this afternoon I will begin that process.

One topic I would like more information on for my writing is spirituality and how it affects our everyday lives.  I must stay aware for a week to see how this manifests itself in my day to day journals.

This ends the exercise experiences with Julia Cameron. And only God knows what I am going to write about tomorrow! Hmmm maybe Celeste!

 

 

What Do I Need to Know

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Hugging a tree in Whistler BC

Hugging a tree in Whistler BC

“Books are the quietest and most constant of friends; they are most accessible and wisest of counsellors, and the most patient of teachers.” Charles W. Eliot

Being an avid reader, I read books of many genres, and especially like books about writing. Some of my favorite writing authors are Brenda Ueland, Stephen King, Anne Lamott, Sophy Burnham, Janet Hagberg, Hal Zina Bennett, and Julia Cameron.
In one of her books, Julia Cameron recommended exercises of twenty minute writing on a given topic, one of which was What Do I Need to Know. The instructions, as I remember, were to begin writing on this topic and stop after twenty minutes. Here is what I wrote: Another Exercise from Julia Cameron – Aug. 30, 2002 – 20 minutes

What Do I Need To Know

The grass is crisp beneath my feet as I start my morning walk through the hydro field adjacent to our house. There has not been enough rain, yet tiny blue flowers grow out of the dry soil. Sunflowers hang their heads over a wire fence in rest or death, I’m not sure which. The fence has become their prop, where once they stood free, faces upturned to their namesake.

And I hug a tree. Someone could be watching from a window, but that‘s okay. I need that hug. Picking my way through piles of doggie dirties left by those who refuse to stoop and scoop, I come to the paved path.

The air is sweet this morning, which prompted this walk in the first place. I hug another tree at the other side of my walk and turn around for the return trip.

I see the faded day moon laid back against a perfectly blue, cloudless sky and the morning sun is beckoning the artificial hue from my hair.

I recall a walk from the past; same time of day, over thirty-five years ago. The air was sweet that day, too, but it was the need for a smoke that prompted that walk. Dishes in the sink, kids at school, husband at his daily toil, and I was out of cigarettes.

Mission accomplished, the return walk from the store that day was a beauty. The sun filtered through the trees and the air was still. I felt a sense of awe, gratitude and love. I think it was very spiritual; felt it but didn’t know it.

As I neared the front door of our house, I wished I didn’t have to open the purpose of my walk, that package of cigarettes. But I did. I lit up and got on with my day.

What do I need to know? Spirit was working in me back then, but I didn’t know it. Now I do, and have quit smoking since that time. What do I need to know? I need to know that, indeed, all things are possible, and I must keep on keeping on with my spiritual life.

A Garden Full of Flowers

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I have met many different people while visiting long-term care facilities, nursing homes and hospitals, as part of my volunteer duties.

One man I met, Mr. Flowers, was an amputee, and while he had no legs from above the knees, he sat high in his wheel chair and had a commanding presence. He was of sound mind, whereas some of his fellow residents had lost this faculty, and Mr. Flowers often found it difficult to find someone to talk to. He had been a high school teacher in his working years, and it was easy to engage him in conversation.

When he learned that I wrote poetry, he asked me to write a poem specifically for him. Being the kind of man he was, and his unusual name, it didn’t take me very long to come up with the following poem:

A Garden Full of Flowers

      (for Mr. Flowers)

 A garden full of flowers

when tended with great care

or tended not at all

if wildflower seed is planted there

will reap its keeper plenitude

in fragrant showy splendor

and bring the memory of spring

come blustery December.

Blooms spring forth upon the mind,

deep wine rose and purple phlox,

daffodils of yellow,

multicolored hollyhocks

replace the snow and blizzards

in the darkened winter hours

and keep alive in mind’s great eye

that garden full of flowers.

©Patricia Ann Boyes

March 7, 2005

You would think I had given him back his legs when he read that poem! He beamed the brightest smile that nursing home had seen in a very long while, and I got a hug that almost toppled him out of the wheel chair.

What a blessing to see the happiness a string of words, placed in the right order on a simple piece of paper could bring to a person.

Mr. Flowers, who didn’t seem to have any religious affiliations whatsoever, shouted, “God bless you!” as I entered the elevator to leave that day’s visiting behind.

“He already has, Mr. Flowers,” I said, “He already has!”