Just Ruminating...

Just Ruminating...

I can say I am in a farouche mood today,
trying to fletcherize my thoughts,
if that is possible at all.

But estivating in my room,
due to conjunctivitis,
propels me to experiment
with these highfalutin words
that I fail to comprehend myself.

It feels great just to play with them.

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What Happens When Commitment in Marriage is One-sided?

What Happens When Commitment in Marriage is One-sided?

Love is consummated in marriage but marriage will not last when commitment is only one-sided. This is because a marriage is a relationship that requires full commitment and dedication, not only by one person, but by the two persons involved.

That is precisely the reason why persons in marriages are often called "couples" because they have to operate as a couple.

Marriage is likened to a seesaw; if only one person is in it, it would not go up and down; or a chess game with only one player. One can go on for a while but after sometime, it would be useless to do so as it is supposed to be done by two persons.

This lack of commitment of one of the couples will affect these different categories:

1. Emotional stability

This can never be achieved when one of the couples is not committed. Emotional stability occurs with the development of the relationship over a period of time spent together. Emotional attachments are the capital gain in this category.

2. Trust and confidence

Unfaithfulness happens when there is a lack of commitment with any of the couples. A lack of commitment signifies that the person still wants to be free to look for another partner. Trust and confidence then will suffer because of this. When a person truly loves someone, he is willing to commit to the relationship.

3. Building a family

A family is not only composed of the father, mother and the children but it is also concerned about the dedication and commitment of both parents to parenting and nurturing the proper growth and development of their children.

4. Financial stability

Both couples should share in this responsibility. Having only one partner concerned about this aspect will cause chaos, financial instability and great misunderstandings between couples. Many marriages failed because of financial disagreements and problems.

5. Nurturing the love

Love can never take deep roots when only one person is committed. Love is like a plant that has to be nurtured and taken cared of. Without the constant care and concern of each of the couples in a marriage, the love will corrode and the union will bound to fail.

Love is always a two - way traffic, involving two persons who are willing to make a commitment. Marriage is love being consummated.

Love in marriage is a must. It has to be requited and returned back or it will never prosper, and without commitment, love will dry like a withering leaf never to turn green again.

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What Happens Now?

What happens now that you're gone?
Will I have a drinking binge with the guys next door?
Will I start tidying the messy music room you have stained with your "music?"

What am I supposed to do?
Wait for you to come back, as I know you would do?
Or pick up the pieces of this decadent life and start from there?

What do you supposed I should do?
What am I supposed to do?
What would they want me to do?

Well, I now realize,
that I won't do anything. Not because you matter,
but because you no longer matter to me.
Good riddance!

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My Best Friend - Piper

We oftentimes hear people talking about a dog as their best friend. I could only respond to them half-heartedly as I did not yet have a first-hand experience regarding the matter. But now that I had experienced it, then I could truly say that dogs are indeed, the most faithful friends one could ever encounter. This is the story of my dog- Piper.

Piper had been brought home by my husband when she was just several days old. Even then, she was so impish and unruly. She would run around the yard non-stop; toppled everything blocking her path, and bit strange looking things into Kingdom come.

I was irritated at first because of how she was turning the house upside down that I had to tie her up. She refused to be tied up of course and did all she could to get out of her imprisonment. I had no option but to set her free. By then I was growing to like her cute antics. I named her Piper. Yes, after the lovely lady Piper of Charmed!

When I arrived home from work, she would rub her body against my feet and wagged her flurry tail, wanting to be cuddled. There were times that my husband and son were out, so I had to bathe her and feed her myself.
After two weeks however, she got sick. She vomited all what she had eaten and had tenesmus (blood in stool and difficulty in defecation). I thought she would die then, and I prayed silently as I patiently fed her milk and medicine from a dropper. She was just lying down there so weak and helpless that I prepared myself to lose her.

After a week though, my prayers were answered, she was up and about and was again in the front door to greet me whenever I came home.
She did not get sick again, not until she was 3 months old. She had a big infected wound, from a barbed wire fence in the back yard. I had again to nurse her to health until her wounds got healed.

Soon, when husband and son were stationed in another city, I was left alone, as I didn’t want to leave my job. Piper provided me with the company and security. She may have sensed that I needed to be safe and had kept vigil over the house when I was not around and more so when I was.

There was a time I had been brought to the hospital for treatment and she stayed faithfully in the front door guarding the house. Nobody remembered to give her food or to check on her. (I still, am teary-eyed whenever I remember) I was unconscious then so I could not instruct them to check on her, and because everyone was preoccupied, no one remembered.

When I went home eventually, there she was sitting guard at the door, faithful as ever!

When I moved to an apartment nearer my place of work after a year, to avoid stress. I was forced to instruct my son to bring her, as dogs were not permitted in my apartment.

She had adapted nicely to my son’s family and again stood guard over my grandkids!
When she died, my grandkids cried as I did.

If at first I found it strange that people would cry for a dog, the death of Piper had made me understand them completely.

And I’m not ashamed to admit that I have cried for my best-friend; my dog – PIPER!

N.B.

The picture here is not of Piper but of my son’s dog – a Rottweiler, which they named Piper too, in memory of my best friend. They have to tie her up as she would bite strangers.

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STILL STUPID AFTER ALL THESE YEARS

By: KEN ARMSTRONG

Normally, my ‘stupid-stories’ are about things that happened to me in the dim and distant past. But the story which I’m going to tell you now actually only happened a little less than six weeks ago.

It still hurts me, both emotionally and physically, to think too much about it. Still, I hope you get a little smile from reading it.

That’s the whole point really.
* * * *

In my job, I sometimes have to go out into fields in the countryside and check out their boundaries. Six week ago, I had one such job which took me into the green green depths of County Mayo (Ireland, of course).

It was a lovely sunny afternoon as I drove out and met the very nice lady who owned the land. We had agreed to meet her elderly neighbour down the field so we both pulled on our boots and headed off together down the grassy slopes.

Soon enough, we came to a fence. It was made of barbed wire and interspersed with tall wooden posts. We had to get past it. The lady – let’s give her a name, let’s say… Mary! Right, well, ‘Mary’ inched her way through a tiny gap and left a fair scrap of her nice tweed jacket on the jagged edges of the wire.

I had my best and loudest red jacket on and I didn’t fancy tearing it so I decided to go ‘over the top’. My plan was to climb on top of one of the large wooden poles that made up the fence and then simply jump down the other side.

It didn’t work out that way.

I got up on to the pole all right. There was only room for one foot on top of it so I balanced there, one leg bent back, arms outstretched. I reckon I must have looked a bit like the Karate Kid except in Welly-Boots.

So for one graceful moment, there I was - perched in the countryside on my pole.

All was well with the world.

Then I went to jump down the other side of the fence.

Perhaps it was because Mary chose that very moment to shout, ‘Be Careful,’ at me.

Perhaps she caused the very air to become negatively charged with her concern.

Perhaps it was all simply destined to fail from the moment I mounted my pole.

Perhaps, perhaps, perhaps…

I launched myself from the top of the pole but the act of my launching caused the poorly anchored pole to fall away backwards behind me just as I departed it.

This transformed what should have been a simple leap to the ground into a graceless swan dive out into rural space.

Bear in mind I was about six feet off the ground when I parted company with the toppling pole. It felt like a long long way to fall.

On the way down I found time to realise that my chin was going to be my first point of contact with the Earth.

In a last-ditch attempt at vanity, I drew my head back to save my beloved chin.

I threw my arms out behind me too, so as to further take my lower jaw out of the impact zone.

It worked. I hit the ground chest first, head up, arms back.

I think it really was quite a remarkable show.

Mary ran up to me. ‘Are you all right?’ she gasped, "Are you all right?"

I was winded. I was as winded as a winded person can ever be winded. There was no breath in me.

But I could tell that Mary was deeply concerned. The way I was curled up clutching my chest, the poor lady was probably thinking that I was having a heart attack.

So I squeezed an answer out on my last dribble of air.

"I’m fine." I wheezed, "Fine…"

Did I mention that Mary was ‘hard of hearing’?

Mary was as ‘hard of hearing’ as the post from which I had so recently sailed forth.

She shook me a bit.

"I said are you all right?" she wailed.

I recovered, after a while. I sat up and reassured Mary that I was indeed fine.

"I WAS ONLY WINDED!!" I said, "DO YOU HEAR ME? WINDED!"

In point of fact my stupidity had earned me two cracked ribs. But I wouldn’t know that until much later. For now, I pretended to have no ill effects at all.

It was critical that I regain some of my professional manner so that I could continue on and complete my job on a calm clinical way…

…as if!

(Really, I should end this story now – I’ve written enough words, I think. A story which has, up until now, been fairly embarrassing for me to tell is about to become completely mortifying. Still, I can’t stop myself from telling it. God help me I can’t!!)

On the way back up the field, after completing our little boundary-check, we came to the same fence again.

I had reinstated the pole as best I could so the fence was once again an obstacle to be overcome. Mary went through it exactly as she had done before.

I still wanted to save my jacket so I went with ‘Plan B’.

I walked to a point midway between two posts, pushed the barbed wire down and stepped over the top of it.

I do this all the time, it’s not a problem.

But this time, when I threw my leg over the fence , I got my first inkling that all might not be quite right with my ribcage.

A sharp pain wrenched through me.

I let go of the barbed wire in shock and the evil wire shot up and snagged me around the place where my trouser-legs tend to meet up.

I hasten to explain, there was no ‘anatomical’ difficulty here – I had baggy waterproof pants on over my ‘regular pair’ (of trousers, dear, of trousers) so I wasn’t in danger of any fate worse than death.

But I was left in a dreadfully uncomfortable position. One leg was on the ground, the other leg was dangling in the air on the other side of the fence and my trousers were totally snagged as if on the barb of a fish hook.

Try as I might, I simply could not free myself from the fence.

Not to mention that I had two newly cracked ribs.

Okay, I mentioned it.

Mary watched me struggle for what seemed like twenty-five minutes and then she apologetically asked. "Can I give you a hand?"

I had no choice.

Dear Mary got down on her knees in the field and, at face level with my snagged trousers, she tugged and wrangled and finally got my errant crotch free again.

As I told you, her elderly neighbour had agreed to walk down the field that day and meet up with us for a chat…

…he never showed up.

For these small mercies, we can only give thanks.

@Ken Armstrong 2008

About the Author:
It is a dream come true for me, having one of my most admired writers - Ken Armstrong of Ken Armstrong Writing Stuff - write a story, which is now featured in this post. I had thought it would be difficult to invite him as he is already a proven and known persona in the writing department in his own niche in Ireland - having published plays and short stories for the theater and radio, but - he so gladly obliged. The good author's feet are still rooted firmly, on "terra firma"!

For more of Ken's interesting and amazing stories visit his blog at:
Ken Armstrong Writing Stuff.

At your expense Ken, I can't help but laugh. Thanks for the honor. Hats off to you!

N. B.
This is a re- posting. I hope you enjoy reading. 
____________________________________________________________________________________
____________________________________________________________________________________

Buddha Picture

A Journey Into the Unknown

(Due to inevitable reasons, the story "The Wanderer.." will continue next week. In the meantime, here is what I can offer in its place.)

It was the first day in school and everyone was eager to start the year. The students were excitedly updating each other with their latest escapades. There were a few of them lost in their own world, nevertheless, the air was charged with great expectancy and adventure.

I stood there at the entrance taking all of these in. My pulses quickened, and I can feel my heart do a flip. It was my very first exposure to teaching and I was apprehensive and nervous as how it would turn out to be. I reminded myself that I have made all the necessary preparations so I assumed it should proceed like a breeze. But looking at them now, I didn't expect a college class to be as "rowdy" as this one. I had expected to walk into an organized, attentive class, with all of them seated in their designated places.

Someone noticed me and turned to his classmates, "Sshhhh, she's here..." The din inside the classroom slowly diminished - as one by one - they went back to their seats. Then there was complete silence, I could hear a pin drop. I was amazed at how the ambiance changed in just a few minutes. I walked in and assumed the sternest face I could muster.

I introduced myself, gave a brief summary of the course, have their class cards accomplished and distributed their syllabus. During all these processes, I spoke in firm tones and never smiled. My hands however, were shaking behind my back, and my knees were wobbly. If they only knew how nervous I was, they may have come after me like a pack of wolves.

My first lesson was about endocrinology. I have reviewed the material thoroughly so I went on like an automaton trying to impress them with my cognitive abilities. One brave student asked several questions trying to test the waters. I was acutely aware of that, and it made me wary.

I went on to explain about the functions of the endocrine glands, the hormones they produced, the assays applicable to these hormones, and all pertinent information related to the topic.

Well, they listened and I survived my first day in college. Nothing disastrous happened. I was able to give a two-hour lecture without collapsing in the middle of my presentation. But after the class, I was like a deflated balloon, so relieved that I was able to make it through.

As days passed, I gained more experience. I came to realize that teaching is not just being able to deliver the lesson for the day. Teaching should also be an interactive process amidst a friendly atmosphere. It should promote an environment of respect and should provide enough freedom for students to be able to express themselves without fear of censure and sanction. They learn more in this set-up than in a rigid and straight-laced method.

I have also learned that adapting the "carrot method" (positive approach merits are awarded for good performances) encourages more student participation than the "stick method" (negative approach- sanctions are given for low performances)

A few of my students during my first year of exposure to college are now my colleagues in the University, and I take pride in stating that they had turned out to be very competent and effective instructors.

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Alfredo's Resort

The Wanderer

Damn that airline, service was so slow. Now she was running late!  For the first time in her life, Ann swore.

She stormed through the house and ran all the way to the bedroom. She was fervently praying Allan was still there. But as she flung the door open, the eerie stillness of the room greeted her. Allan was gone. On the side table was a letter with her name on it. Allan's powerful strokes stared back at her, begging her to open it quickly.

Ann - her hands trembling - slowly unfolded the letter ...

My Darling,

You know, I have not been fair to you in some of the things I have said. I'm sorry, please forgive me. I LOVE YOU. My life made me so negative that I stopped believing in everything. I began to think the worst first, always. I lost faith in human beings. Just lost faith. Even in my self.

Then you came and I fell in love with you and I could not believe  that I could actually feel this way. I can't stop thinking of you. You know my habit of tearing up things I write also applies to everything else, I jsut tear, delete or drop things in life just like that and not even look back.  Not a good thing to do.

Now you are there and I still keep thinking that it's not possible that after so much, someone has come who actually loves me. I hope you are following and not over reading like I also do, imagining things that are not there.

I suppose I am really plain dumb. I keep getting negative thoughts and imagining things.

I know that if I lose this love there will never be another chance for me.  I can't let that happen.

I did not sleep well last night. Went for a ride then came back and slept. Got up at around 12 and read your message. It was early when you had sent it. Were you still awake?  So I started thinking  she must have been awake on the computer . See, how negatively I start thinking. 

When I saw that the message you sent was early I immediately thought she did not even sleep she was still at the comp. I am giving you an example of what is ahppening to me, thinking all sorts of things. I don't know why, I have never been like this. You were still on the computer after we finished talking that means you were talking to someone and that means she does not really love me. This is what is happening to my mind. All kinds of scenarios.

I guess this all stems from my loss of faith in everything around me and even though I know that I love you I keep thinking she cannot love me too, that it is not possible for anyone to love me. Like how can anyone love a crackpot, like that.

I feel sad and happy at the same time. One minute believing and the next not believing, that it can't be. It's a dream. A fairytale.

I LOVE YOU ANN!

Love you,

will you love me always,

like I love you,

or will you just disappear like a dream?

Allan

TO BE CONTINUED...

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BINTANA

By EVER

Sad trip ang dating ko nung buksan ko ang bintana,marami akong mga bagay na na-aalala,gusto ko na ngang batukan ang sarili ko,kung bakit naisipan ko pang tumingin sa labas ng bintana,ito ang mga iniiwasan ko, ang mga ganitong tema,masyado akong nagiging emosyonal,pakiramdam ko lahat ng mga problema binubulungan ako,lahat ng mga bagay naalala ko.masaya,malungkot,masama at mabuti.. eto ako ngayon,nakatulala at nakatingin sa malayo na wala namang tinatanaw …

BINTANA

Bintana ang lugar kung saan matatanaw
Kung saan naglalakbay ang mga pananaw
Dito rin makikita ang espasyo ng buhay
Mga pangarap na nagtatampisaw

Ibat-ibang uri,ibat-ibang bagay
Lahat may kilos lahat may galaw
Di mo mapapansin malalaking bagay
Kumpara sa maliit mas mararamdaman

Sa aking pag dungaw malungkot ang tanaw
Pagkat ala-ala pumasok sa isipan
Pilitin mang baguhin sa kasiyahan
Di kayang itago ng katotohanan

Ngayon sa pagsara ng dahan dahan
Anino ng hangin ay maiiwan
At bukas, sa muling pagdungaw
Sa bintana. haharapin ang kinabukasan.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Si Ever ng Pamatayhomesick ay isa sa mga magigiting na OFWs. Isa siyang Filipinong bayani sa disyerto ng Farwaniya, Kuwait.Sabi niya " maliban sa pagpipinta,kinagigiliwan ko rin malaman ang tradisyon,lugar at,ang ibat ibang kulturang aking ginagalawan..."

"Aside from painting, I am passionate to learn about the variety of cultures, traditions and the fascinating places around me."

This poem "Window" mused about various thoughts that crossed the mind of the poet as he looked out of the window.  The feelings of regret and realization of the truth made him melancholic.  

I know Ever has more "meaning" in this poem, and I don't think I can capture them in just a few sentences.

Ever is a popular artist, a poet, a writer and a remarkable blogger. He writes for his blog, "Pamatay Homesik" where his posts are well commented on. Insouciant like an impish child, he depicts the happy side of the harsh realities of life abroad. I always had a smile on my lips after reading his wonderful articles about life in the deserts of Kuwait.

He has been a finalist for the PBA (Philippine Blog Awards in Arts and Culture) in 2008 and 2009, for Best Filipiniana Blog.

He is not only a blogging superstar but is also a TV star. He and his artist group ADHIKA were featured in both of the leading National TV stations Channel 2 and Channel 7 in a special show featuring Filipinos abroad.

Ever, thanks for this beautiful poem. Sana marami pang kasunod.

Panagbenga Festival, Baguio City, Philippines

Sometime... Somewhere...

By Roy Dela Cruz

Sometime… somewhere…
When everything is in its place
Not now
Maybe not even in this lifetime
But sometime… somewhere

Let me savor the pain
Let this heart bleeds as it may
No bitterness
If this is what I have to pass
I welcome it with open arms

Tomorrow’s not too far
Pain will not diminish the desire
Heart endures
As vulnerable as it is
It is stubbornly resilient

Insistent longing kept… withheld
Until comes the right time
Fate prevails
Believe it will happen
Sometime… somewhere…

------------------------------------
Roy
July 27, 2010
12:50 am
Angeles City
Philippines

AS PROMISED, HERE''S THE SECOND POEM OF ROY.  THE POET IS ON THE LOOSE...LOL. THANKS , ROY

Painting Words

By Roy Dela Cruz

If I were a poet to paint your beauty
You know I will do it with all honesty
Though with paints and brushes I cannot do
I will use words that can only speak true

You are a face so young and so innocent
With a smile to cheer even a weary heart
Glowing eyes that can only be you
And a hair gently bathed by midnight hue

Your hands are soft like that of velvet
A walk like a swan, so graceful and fine
A voice that bespeaks of youth and innocence
And the rare, rare charm of a real lady

But then you know that words are not enough
To paint a picture of your enchanting beauty
Cause yours is a beauty more than words
  could ever speak...

You really are beautiful

--------------------
Roy
March 25, 1990
4:00 am
Angeles City
Philippines

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Roy Dela Cruz is the well-known Struggling Blogger of Philippine Blogging. An awardee of the Emerging Influential Blogs of 2009, Roy has17  active blogs and counting. That's right - 17 blogs - to his name. A creative writer, a poet, an artist (yes, he drew that caricature) and an Uber blogger, Roy's greatest achievement is to be the perfect father and mother to his three children, Ralph Emerson, Edgar Allan and Angel.

Roy, good luck with your future endeavors.


Visit his blogs:

Be Inspired Now!

Etsetera! Etsetera!

HAU Grand Alumni Homecoming

In my mind’s eye

Kapampangan Blog

Letters To Mama

Money OnLine

more than just copy-paste

REFLECTIONS

Roysville dot Com

Short Stories Blog

Single Fatherhood

Subukan Taya Ing Kapampangan!

Sugar Coated World

The House Of Puroy

The Struggling Blogger @ 168center.com

Travel To Angeles City

WATCH OUT FOR HIS SECOND POEM NEXT WEEK.

 
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Music is Art

Music is art and art is music. Let's have some break from poetry and short stories for this beautiful music.

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The Welcoming Arms of the Ocean

Deep, mysterious, enchanting;

plaintive cry in the arms of Morpheus.

What calm would it be to give in

amidst the fathomless depths,

dark, abysmal, wallowing;

hollow words in the bottom of despair.



How tempting to let go of the lifeboat;

be lost in the hypnotic, azure blue.

Let go and rest amongst the aged rocks.

Be part of the calm, harmless current,

where underneath nothing matters,

but a welcomed sleep of death.



Photo by: DavidK-Oregon's photostream

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