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Tag Archives: comfort

Rose teardrops


Teardrops... ┬ęcopyright2014owpp

Teardrops…
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Bleeding beauty
Seasonal & moody
Oblivious to the
Comfort you bring
To Winter’s needy

I thought a bit of color in this season might bring all of you some comfort. I played around with color. I wonder which is your favorite?
Wishing you a wonderful weekend ­čÖé

In its original color ┬ęcopyright2014owpp

In its original color
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Offering to the needy ┬ęcopyright2014owpp

Offering to the needy
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Natural Recipe category restored!


Nearing to its end... ┬ęcopyright2013owpp

Nearing to its end…
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I am relieved to have completed the photo restoration of the recipe category in less time than the others as it’s smaller compared…
I realize now that all this ordeal was in my favor as the blog is more pleasant to the eye in its update from more experience. I selected this time round more carefully the quality of the photos and thanks to the advice of so many kind bloggers I reduced the photo-pixels which rejuvenated this blog that was nearing to its end by being close to overloaded.
So, I am learning constantly and I’m now short of two smaller categories to finish (Writings & O.a writings) before being able to totally celebrate ­čÖé

Thanks again for all your support!

A day of our lives February 2010 Oa essay


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A day of our lives
—————

Last night I felt like waiving it all. Does it happen to you too?
Ironically, the arguments I want to run away from are the very reason I will not give up.
Even if the scales prove otherwise, working my character defects is now the reason for me to stay on.
So, I am hanging on a thread, as a spider, slowly weaving my way, consolidating my web.
My thread is my connection to my ├ęlan vital. To what is home now. It keeps me linked to my sparkle. That is why I hold on, toil my way through. Anneal the base.
My thoughts shout. Build a wider faction, extensions!
Outreach calls are of paramount importance yet, I have been shying away from that assignment.

We tend to build protective walls around us, which need to be broken down at some point.
Some build fortresses throughout their lives, staking up watchmen to mark their borders that stretch out further and further away from their former territories and lose themselves in it. Opportunities for light and life shrinking away from their grasp as the ebbing of a tide, leaving its emblem to be stamped on by the carefree, merry vacationer.
Others stay jammed between the doors of desperation, forlorn in an ocean of slavery to some addiction or another, plaguing them constantly with thoughts and acting upon them in a half-slumber, as if it is their destiny, as if they had no choice in the matter.
They live in a no-manÔÇÖs land. In the crepuscule. Passengers erring between countries restlessly, looking for comfort and finding none.
Solace, evading their days and nights. Their soul giving them no rest. Until they are bestowed with the gift of sagacity and composure.
The skills for living in the right sense. Fully, truly, joyfully and peacefully.
Those miracles can happen. It is only up to us to create the vessel to receive them.
All there is to do is hope to be awarded with the volition to shape, mold it, as a sturdy thick, impermeable, hermetically sealed receptacle that will enable us to treasure those gifts never letting them out of our sight,
Whatever the cost.