Published May 9, 2012 by MagicalRi
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As the World Spins Madly On

Published October 24, 2011 by MagicalRi

It would be safe to say that everyone has experienced the sensation of hearts a flutter or a feeling of sheer exhilaration at the mere mention of a person’s name. Yet, it brings to question what the feeling of elation is as the world spins madly on? As one goes through the various stages of life they are bound to experience a gamut of emotions as they travel the various paths into adulthood. Nothing is etched into stone as being right or wrong, and it is up to us to discover how the plethora of experiences influence the decisions we make and  how we in turn process and interpret them. Every experience we encounter or endure leaves an imprint on our soul and in turn often time’s leaves new question as the cycle continues. One of the largest such adventures is love or infatuation.

Whether from a young age full of naiveté or from the perspective of wise and mature, many relationships will analyze and ask what is love and what is infatuation? As a relationship starts what exactly is the difference or does one in fact lead to the other? According to Encarta online Dictionary Love means; to feel tender affection for somebody, or to feel desire for somebody.” Yet, if one thinks of infatuation it takes on a negative connotation even though it is a synonym of love. So again, I have to ask myself what is the difference?

We all start out in memorable relationships with those initial feelings where our heart skips a beat or will experience the butterflies when you even think of that other person, even if the thought is fleeting and buried. Time does not seem to be a factor, as you might have had years go in between without a thought and in that one brief moment, you are taken back to a moment frozen in time. Your body is magnetically charged and drawn by an invisible force to that person, almost like a moth to a flame. As Buddha said; “Of all the worldly passions lust is the most intense. All the other worldly passions seem to follow in its train.” Yet, is it that very desire of momentary lust that causes the kamikaze jump between infatuation and love? Is it really like a drug in which you are in a blissful and euphoric state? If this is the case then it should be fair to say that infatuation is the primary stage and step into ‘true-love’.

As I am looking back and having time to reflect on past relationships, I realize that I have a lot of confusion in regards to the meaning of love. Have I ever known or experienced love? Did I just say it was love but in reality it was infatuation that I was in amidst of and in turn would fizzle out and disappear before I could be caught up in the development of the all-consuming emotion that is considered love? If that is the case then I have to ask myself why? What am I scared of if in reality they are basically the same thing but one is a beginning step and one is the outcome- yet, both are all consuming?

How does one go about discovering the difference of infatuation and love? Is it really true that we have one special person or someone often referred to as our soul mate or dual flame? What happens if that person does not reciprocate the feelings or belongs to someone else? Have we lost our chance of experiencing the love and the first stage of infatuation with that person and instead it just becomes the pre-course for a deep seated fiery desire? Will that fire or even the embers that the fire caused ever truly go away even after such things as divorce or different paths of life? According to the author Mason Cooley; “If love was straightforward and unchanging, then that would be easy to acknowledge. But, when you take a close look at the nature of love and romance, then one thing becomes clear; love creates happiness & heartache, opportunities & constraints, joy & sorrow. Love begins with an image, while lust and infatuation begins with a sensation.”

As I contemplate the past relationships of my life, I am reminded of the imprints that have shaped my life. I can say that even amongst the heartbreak that the sheer joys of having my soul mellifluously sing, even if only briefly, outweighs all risks associated or fear or even tears of sadness. These are the things in life that make us who were are, and their influence is mammoth. I still find myself believing in the premise of love, however IF there is a difference between the two, I will gladly choose infatuation over love. Many will ask why I would do select something fleeting over settling for safety and consistency. The answer is quite simple, I would rather have that brief moment where I will have reached the crescendo and pinnacle of bliss and rapture than to have never of even had the opportunity to truly be beautiful and adored. It is those first moments  of past relationships that I can reflect on and have it still bring a smile to my face, thus taking me back to a period or moment in my life that is pure magic.  As the actress Alfre Woodward says; “When you feel a connection, a gut connection, a heart connection, it is a very special thing.” There is no definite answer to whether love or infatuation is the same thing, it depends on the person, but one thing is for sure- they both are wonderful things.

The Art of Listening

Published July 14, 2011 by MagicalRi

Dedicated to Storm Randall

            One of the most significant aspects of any relationship is the ability to listen. We all would like to think that we are competent and empathetic listeners, yet the question remains; Are we truly? For almost 21 years I have prided myself on not only being a fantastic mom, but also a person who could listen to the needs, both verbally and non-verbally, of my son Storm. After spending time putting aside the distractions and outside influences I was quite surprised how much I still had to learn before it could be a true statement. I discovered through this assignment, that listening offers challenges, rewards, and finally a new sense of self-discovery.

For the past 11 years, since Storm was diagnosed with Schizoaffective Disorder, I have been finding new ways to advocate for him. What I thought was listening was in fact not listening at all but rather, just me speaking for him or through him. When Storm would talk I would act like I was listening but instead the words he was saying would get twisted into what I thought he meant. After all how could he know what he meant, since his mind was constantly racing ten steps ahead of all those around him? For years I would try and kowtow all of our conversations into what would appear normal or make sense. During this exchange I finally realized how wrong I was.

It was quite eye opening to realize that what I had thought was normal was in fact far from normal as it was not a conversation but instead were words jumbled and forced together like a jigsaw puzzle, and all though they seemed to fit, they were just a smidgen off.  Since Storm’s mind is quite different than ‘normal’ minds, I had failed to realize that by my controlling the conversation or only hearing the words that I thought I had heard or needed to hear, I was in fact not listening. I thought all of the years before that by keeping Storm on “track” it was helping him to not start the conversation in the middle. I had always chalked our broken conversations up to the fact that he thinks faster than he can speak, this was not entirely true as I discovered.

As I sat listening to Storm just talk, I realized that I was seeing him through new eyes. I am not sure if I can chalk this up to the walk exercise that we did for this class or what, but my senses seemed to be buzzing and everything was more dynamic. I seemed to have a better understanding and appreciation for this amazing man sitting in front of me. I watched him talk, amazed that by my sitting there and not butting in and showing that I was truly hearing his words that he seemed to flourish and come alive. I sat in amazement watching the genuine smile come forth as he spoke- and not just a visual smile but in the tone of his voice as well as the body language. The restlessness that always seemed to stir under the surface of Storm’s façade seemed to be at peace, and the bear (as I used to always tease him about having) seemed to be asleep. It was in this moment I realized the reward of what truly listening entailed. The art of listening is more than hearing actual words or sounds, but comes from the emotions, and feelings that can be presented through actual vocalization but in mannerisms, behaviors, and habits. Gone were the usual moments of no direct eye contact, or the nervous fidgety behavior and instead standing in its place was something magical and majestic.

It was at this moment that the self-discovery came in, as I came to realize and appreciate the vast differences that Storm and I had. While we both were so alike in so many ways, we each have our own template that makes us individuals. I continued to sit and watch in awe how he spoke through body language in addition to words. I ‘listened’ as I realized that through his mannerisms that he had picked up on the moral values and beliefs that I had tried to install in him. I listened to him be fluent in using big words and talking about deep things, which made me proud of the fact that he had listened to my lectures about the Thesaurus being your best friend. He used to act like I was crazy when I would have him and his sister Rachel learn the big word of the day, although he would humor me, and assume it was because of my late start learning to read as to why I loved words so much. Yet, here in this conversation, he showed me that he had actually LISTENED to me and because of the lessons I had lectured him on, was now able to communicate and listen in return. Gone was the little boy and in his place was a man who spoke with such eloquence and clarity that for a moment I felt ashamed for having let him down all of the years that I thought I was helping him. It was an epiphany of sorts as it reminded me that in order to be a compassionate listener, then I needed to face the fact that if I ‘talk the talk’ then I needed to ‘walk the walk.’ It seems as if we are never done learning the importance of listening. Through the learning that we aren’t just robotic, we are offered new understanding and appreciation of those around us. It could be compared to the old analogy of how we get rusty if we do not ride a bike for a few years. Listening is a lot like that as it shows us that although we might be tarnished, if we use diligence it will soon become a fine tuned skill again.

Sitting down and giving undivided attention while participating in active listening can be a quite challenging, especially with the hullabaloo that we call life around us; yet, the rewards, self-discovery and benefits can be exponential. Listening is not a skill that we learn and then forget but rather is something that is in us to do but its priority of importance is momentarily forgotten. It takes patience and diligence to maintain. For years I have struggled through a rollercoaster of highs and lows of emotions in regards to Storm. After this exercise I realized that the differences are okay as long as we enter into the conversation with open ears and genuine appreciation of caring what the other person has to say. I am glad to say that I now value my son a little more if that is possible as my perception and expectations have changed. The ups and downs of Schizoaffective Disorder and the barrage of emotions no longer stand as a barrier of communication. Those very differences are now embraced and in its place there is a sense of wonderment as I realize that things do not need to be ‘normal.’ Although we are very dissimilar, I embrace those variances and appreciate the plethora of rewards that we mutually offer each other. I am sure there will be times ahead of me where I might forget to listen and let the chaos of life take over, but if that happens I will remind myself that it is time to take a walk leaving my IPod and phone in the car, since it seems that amongst the mellifluous sounds of nature that my senses seemed to be jump started into vivid Technicolor clarity.  I guess that this is why listening could be called an art; it is after all as beautiful as the nature around us.

A Time of Reflection- dedicated to my daughter Rachel Robin

Published July 4, 2011 by MagicalRi

A Time of Reflection

-dedicated to my daughter Rachel Robin

I have been meaning to do this for months, yet, something always stops me. It is only now that I am asked to reflect on something that has been instrumental both good and bad in my life that I can finally put these feelings to words. What stopped me before? Was it fear? Was it stubbornness stemming from anger and pride? Was it feelings of abandonment? I do not know.

I have a void in my heart that even with time does not seem to heal. I went from one day having a daughter who was my world, to no daughter at all. This was the second time in my life I had to feel such gut wrenching sorrow. It did not matter that this beautiful girl was not my blood or biologically mine. I went from having a friend and confidant with whom I could share my deepest fears, feelings and secrets- whether good or bad. Someone I could look forward to seeing everyday knowing she would make me smile. A little girl who grew up into a woman that with her help, helped my heart to heal and enabled me to believe in magic and good again. In the blink of an eye that changed.

For the second time in my life I lost what I held most dear- a little girl who loved me and believed I was a good mom and person. I ask myself everyday why? In the beginning I was hurt and wanted space from the reminders of a marriage that failed. I resented that my beloved daughter chose her daddy over me despite seeing firsthand how dysfunctional and unhealthy our relationship had been. Was I right in keeping a distance or barrier? Probably not, yet I did not want to taint my relationship with my daughter, nor ever make her feel that she had to choose me over her daddy. After all I had an idea of how that would turn out since exactly who was I and what was my place in her life without that piece of paper that entitled me the title of step-mom? I had no rights or claim to her. The years of holding her hand while she got a shot, or the hugs to mend a broken heart or a betrayal of a friend were for naught and seemed to vanish and account for nothing.

Yet patiently I waited, holding on to the hope someday she would find that I was integral and important in her journey in this thing called life.  I did not want to beg for her to be in my life or deem me important like I had to do with a little girl so many years before. Instead while I waited I found that in her pain she needed to believe that I was the bad guy- and in the process said hurtful things in order to place the blame and anger on someone for a situation that was out of her control. I understood that anger and I welcomed it. After all isn’t that what mothers are supposed to do? Is it not a mother’s job to absorb the pain to the best of their ability in order for their child to find peace and solace and security? I did this with barely a stumble all the while my soul was weeping inside. How I missed her…

When will the heartbreak and void either end or be filled? I do not have the answer despite the insatiable desire to obtain my own sense of peace and solace and a respite from this pain and emptiness that feels like I am standing on the precipice of an abyss. I hold on to the hope that I can gain comfort in the promise that she will find her way home to me. Until that day I keep the façade that I do not care or that it does not bother me. No one knows how much my soul cries out for completion of hearing a little girl named Rachel say;” I love you Ree -Ree.”

Now I ask myself would I go back and change things to spare myself the pain if I had known the outcome. Therein lies the dichotomy, as a part of me wishes yes, anything to not ever have to feel the gut wrenching sorrow and emptiness of losing another precious miracle. The duality of this however says no, because if I would have changed anything I would have lost out on one of the most amazing treasures ever bestowed on this Earth. I am blessed to say that I am a better person having known this beautiful soul that I was lucky enough to call my daughter. I would gladly go through the heartache of divorce just to have had the years that I did. As I have always taught my children, Rachel included, “to every season there is a season.” I think that this holds true in regards to the moments I was blessed to be called her mom.

In my heart she will always be my beautiful daughter, biological or not. I am eternally grateful to have had the opportunity to be called ‘mom’ (Ree-Ree) and also her friend. I wish her happiness and magic as well as a lifetime of love and laughter. I hope that she cherishes the moments we shared and remembers some of the ideals and morals I tried to install in her. I hope that they are enough to carry her on through the trials and tribulations of this chaos we call life. I hope that she knows in the deepest of her heart that I am waiting here with bated breath for the time that she comes home to my waiting arms. Until that time fly free my sweet “Bido-Bug.” I love you unconditionally – Always and forever. Thank–you for making me a better person and helping me to believe again. So in reflection, my life changed forever the day I was introduced to the wonderment of a little girl named Rachel and the endless beauty that she offered, I can honestly say that my life has been enriched and I am an enriched person with the knowledge that there is truly magic alive in this world.

~ Ree-Ree

If you wait for me then I’ll come for you
Although I’ve traveled far
I always hold a place for you in my heart
If you think of me If you miss me once in a while
Then I’ll return to you
I’ll return and fill that space in your heart
~~~~“The Promise” by Tracy Chapman

The Passion that Drives

Published February 26, 2011 by MagicalRi

The Passion that Drives

In today’s news, one cannot help but hear about education in one form or another, which in turns brings up the question; why would anyone want to be a teacher? The choice to take on the endeavor or career of being a teacher is one that I have not taken lightly. My life has been a tumultuous one filled with many obstacles and continual balancing acts as I have stood on the precipice of the unknown. Yet, all of these things combined have put me on the path of following my dreams and quenching the deep seeded soul desire to becoming a teacher. Many things have brought me to the decision to be a teacher; amongst them being life experiences, a chance to pay it forward and the completion of my goals.

At the earliest of ages we are taught to reach for the stars and to follow our dreams of becoming whatever we want, for myself this took on even more meaning than most. Life for a little girl, named as Rosemary, was anything but ideal or perfect. Instead of hearing encouraging words, or  receiving loving hugs, a life of settling and just accepting that this was as good as it gets was more common, amongst abuse and drugs. The highlights of this little girl’s life were the moments where she was no longer invisible in the classroom, with a kind hearted woman that gave hugs and offered words of encouragement; a woman who helped a little girl at the age of nine, to discover that the words in a book meant more than just the pictures. It was a woman who saw beneath the layers of dirt, burns, and bruises and took a scared little girl into her own home until a foster family and eventual adopted family could be found.  This was a woman who not only educated in a classroom sense, but helped mold a child into learning the most important lesson of all; to believe that dreams are always within our reach no matter who we are. Neither the world nor the stars seemed brighter as Maria- Rosemary was born. The impact of this magical amazing woman set me on the course that I am on now. This amazing woman went by the name of Miss Britt and she was my teacher, and because of her that is what I am aspiring to be.

I have met many people who have had a preconceived notion of what it meant to be a teacher. Much like the stigma that police officers have with the time spent at a donut shop, teachers have their own stereotype that they must endure.   The most well-known of the benefits of being a teacher are that they get summers off, extended holidays, “mental health” days and play with kids all day. How hard could it be? For many these can be considered the extrinsic rewards. My reasons for becoming a teacher are many; the obvious reason most definitely would not be for the pay. The shortened days or holiday breaks are a great motivator to me becoming a teacher; despite knowing first hand that the day does not end the moment that the bell rings and the class room is locked. The idea of summers off is even more enticing to me; however, the biggest incentive for me is the flexibility in a schedule which would afford me the chance to handle the chaos theory also known as my life.

The road to becoming a teacher has had many deviations along the way, yet in one form or another I have been a teacher whether as a mother, a substitute teacher or a tutor. To understand what it means to be a teacher, one must start with the definition of teacher. According to the Encarta Dictionary a teacher is “somebody who teaches or is an object from which something may be learned” (2009). Teachers play an integral role into the shaping and molding of our future generations.  As a mother, I have been a teacher, by continually invoking the passion and wonderment of what the world has to offer to my children. Through my son, Storm, in particular I learned the importance of advocating for a child that has schizophrenia, and the importance of Individual Education Plans (IEP). I had firsthand experience  of what it was like to work with administration while getting the best education for my child as well as the importance of establishing a great rapport with teachers. It was during this time I put my own desires of being a teacher on hold in hopes that I could offer my son the best possible mother and advocate that I could be. The road has not been an easy one, as my children have not learned at the same wave length or had the same strengths or learning styles. I have had the privilege of raising three amazing children who continually teach me as much I hope that I have taught them. It is through them, that I have learned to spread my passion of learning and further my belief that I am meant to become a teacher.

Without teachers I find the world runs the risk of limited, if any knowledge.  Since I have been the child that did not learn to read until the age of nine, the world of teaching holds endless opportunities for me as I start the endeavor that will pay it forward. This could be called the intrinsic rewards of what motivates me. People remember their favorite teacher decades later because great teachers change the course of a student’s life.  This definitely rings true for me. I often ask myself where would I be now had I not been blessed with a woman who had the calling and passion to become a teacher. I want the chance to be able to teach a child that if they can read then they can write, if they can write then they can speak. I want to become the person that stands at the front of the class and ignites the passion or spark of becoming a future poet, or an artist or just to let a student know that I believe in them even if they do not believe in themselves. Some may call these idealistic beliefs, but for me they are the very ethics and morals by which I live my life.

After having the personal experience of being a substitute teacher, I can honestly say it is perhaps the most exhausting job I have ever had. Amidst this  I found that I managed to put a smile on my face, and tried to help put every child on the track that will eventually lead to the future success of not only the student, but because I believe in the importance of a teacher. Many of these students will use the knowledge that they have learned from their education as well as their teacher and will become doctors, lawyers or even a multimillion dollar athlete. At which time I can look back and say, I was a part of that, I was their teacher. It was during my time as a long term substitute teacher that I realized that although life had taken a different path for me for a time, my soul was crying out to be a ‘real” teacher. I had never truly forgotten the promise to myself that my destiny was to be important in the life of a child.

To be a teacher is more than teaching, it requires passion and a commitment.  I admire this inner fortitude and strength of spirit among a profession that has the perception of being a no brainer job.  As I started this goal I realized it meant more than just a career, or offering me a paycheck and job security instead for me it meant coming full circle. Gone is the scared, abused and neglected child, and in its place is a woman who wants to share the excitement of a world filled with endless possibilities.

Having had a turbulent childhood and being bounced around through numerous foster homes, it was not until I was nine years old that I discovered the love of books with words. Before this time I had relied on pictures to give me the image of what the story was about. Learning to read became my solace and refuge from my real world and offered me an escape. While for many who have never lived this lifestyle, they might question how I can be the person that I am, but for me, I find that is one of my strengths as I will not accept things at face value, nor do I take things for granted. I want to see and feel and understand what is being offered. I find myself rereading things over and over, and each time finding a new gem of wisdom or insight. If something seems off kilter I will make note of it and step away from it and then after contemplation I will come back to it. I think that will benefit me in being a teacher, because it gives me the resolve and perseverance to continually learn alongside my students.  It is because of these types of things that fuel my desire to want to become an English teacher.  I want to be the one to incite the passion. The same passion that I felt when I discovered words and worlds that was beyond my imagination. I want to teach kids that it is okay to be different and to have a myriad of different interpretations and opinions as we reach into the treasure chest of the true meaning of education.

After years of putting my dreams on hold, I finally have put myself first. I cannot say that this decision has been an easy one. This inner longing that for years has cried out for attention is finally being answered. At the age of 40, I came back to college to purse the goal I had set for myself in the third grade. In the pursuit of this goal, I have managed to make the Presidents’ List and to be summa cum laude for three semesters despite going through a separation and now a divorce. I have been asked many times how do I can manage this or even why would I want to do this and the answer is quite simply attributed to Miss Britt; I am not a quitter, I CAN be whatever I want to be and I am important and therefore will make a difference in the life of a child. Even if I just help one child then I will have accomplished my goal because without a teacher I would not be who I am today. Numerous times I have wanted to give up and yet like a magnet I kept being drawn back to completing a goal that I had set out for myself in the third grade.

It is with this knowledge that I have put myself on the course of becoming an Education major with emphasis on English with a minor in History.  Although the teacher that had the most impact on me was an Elementary Education teacher, I find that my calling is with high school, in particular seniors.  While many think I am crazy, I have never been so inspired, until a former student I had told me, that although the state requires certification to be called a ‘real teacher’, it did not matter because I was one already. To this young lady, in the time I had been her long term teacher, I had managed to kindle the spark of awakening and made her WANT to learn beyond what was required. If I had ever doubted my goal of becoming a teacher, or the path I was on, I no longer did.

I shudder to think what my future would have been like without the teachers or mentors who have helped steer me on the path of what I call my life.  I believe that I will get a sense of satisfaction in seeing the joy, awareness and passion as I help kids find not only themselves, but the key to turning on the pursuit of becoming who they are destined to be. As a mother as well as a future “real” teacher, I will continue to hold on to the belief that the sky is the limit. I will continue to foster the dream for not only myself but my children or students to become a sponge and soak up everything they can to become the best that they can possibly be.

I have found that there is no road map or course book that maps out my future. There is no one telling me what I should or should not do, because if I choose the role of teacher, it needs to be a deeply felt passion or calling. Through real life experiences of a very chaotic and turbulent life experiences I have learned the importance of having a quality teacher and where I can be afforded the opportunity of paying it forward through the completion of my goals.  Everyone wants the chance in their life to be remembered for something, for me there could be no greater reward than being remembered for helping a child become the very best that can be by fulfilling their destiny. I welcome this opportunity to turn my passion for learning into a love of teaching so that someone else can experience the joy that the world has to offer.

Not so Happily Ever After

Published January 30, 2011 by MagicalRi


From a very young age, Girls start the fantasy of the fairytale of finding Prince Charming, falling in love and getting married. It is almost as if it is programmed into fledgling girls DNA. Yet, what happens when the glass slipper does not fit, and ‘happily ever after’ is only for a blip in time rather than forever?

I had always grown up with the notion that when I got married it would be forever. Now maybe that is the glass half full perspective, or maybe not. No one goes into the idea or vision of marriage thinking it is going to end in failure or divorce, where you get to feel the deepest layers of heartbreak which can be paralleled to the levels of purgatory as described in Dante’s Inferno. Now, with divorce number two soon to be finalized I realize that my expectations are that of fantasy more than an actual delusion.


The sad fact is that marriage is not what it used to be. Apparently the vowels we speak are hollow. Even though we dream or hope that it will be eternal, forever is not the forever of yore. There is no security. No amount of hard work can or will prevent the ring of eternity into becoming just a strip of metal instead of the circle of united bliss, if both parties are not on the same page. In society today, the majority of people are always looking for that next best things or worse when it gets tough it is easier to just give up and move on. After all, why work for something when your time can easily be spent on something else that is more important than your supposed soul mate.


Gone are the pledges that even if we marry our best friend that we are assured the chance of living out every dream or image of finding that eternal flame or connection with the love of our life. In fact, gone is also the chance of living in peaceful harmony till death do us part for better or worse. Different ideals or definitions of what those very words mean can change the very dynamic, as much if not more so than even the difference of day changing to night.


So what happens when the glass slipper breaks, does not fit or worse yet when Prince Charming turns into a toad and does not change back. (This can be the same from the perspective from a man in the sense that Cinderella might be a façade and in reality might be the wicked witch or the ugly step sister.)


There are the stories of pure wedded bliss, but as we know in today’s society they are few and far between. So what happens when the perfect world you thought you were going to have of growing old next to the individual who you pledged your eternal love to fades away? What happens if you did marry your best friend and in the process of losing your spouse, you lose the very person who you counted on the most? How do we manage to stay intact and not shatter to pieces, because everything that we have been taught to believe and was integral in the makeup of who we are now lays in question in the pile of ash that was once our heart. Little chunks of who we are change. All of these things can be said to make us stronger, but what if it the broken relationships leaves a plethora of distinct imprints that forever alter who we are.


For me it has been a bumpy ride. I am left with more questions than answers. Maybe I am in love with the idea of love, and even with that said I loathe it with my very essence of who I am. I am left in a conundrum of trying to figure out why it is easier for me to be loved than to receive love. For the few that I have let in, and wanted their love, they were unable to give it. I can definitely say the old adage is true, “it is better than to love and lost than to never have loved at all.”, and yet, in the same breath, I want to scream at the stars above, cursing the entire notion of love. I was blessed to be able to say that I was married to my best friend. In the same instance it was a curse because when the fantasy came crashing down, I lost my best friend and my spouse. So now I am left to pick up the pieces and wonder how next to proceed in the world of “life after happily ever after.” It is the ultimate dichotomy. I, however, like the  mythical Phoenix will rise again of this I am sure to savor the mellifluous feeling of love for it has been etched and entwined into the template of who I am. Here is to love, including the trials, the peaks, good and bad and forever and always.

Finding my Voice

Published January 19, 2011 by MagicalRi

There is a common perception that people generally have the innate ability to perform well in Math or they will have a strong proficiency in Writing. As my venture into secondary education has transpired, I have discovered how very true this is. From a very young age I had discovered that my strength was in writing. This has become even more pronounced since I started writing in an academic setting. In order for me to be successful in writing as well as in college means that the two have to go hand in hand. I need to be able to write with clarity and have it seemingly balanced with pathos, logos and ethos. If I can manage to do this, then the rest of my academic years will flow easier. This semester has shown me how to fine tune this and has given me a plethora of tools to become a proficient writer.

As a writer, I think it is important to be able to see the whole picture. I have to ask myself what the goal or outcome is that I wish to obtain, especially as my thoughts and language are so entwined. Through this journey, I have discovered so much about not only myself but about my writing.  I have found that I truly love writing. I adore the chance to explore putting my words and thoughts down on paper, much like an artist puts paint down on an easel. Whether someone likes it or not is open to personal interpretation. As a wise man told me “love is an appropriate word to describe and define a person’s relationship with writing.” I had never thought about it this way before, but how true it is. It takes dedication, passion and commitment to realize through writing that we have a voice, that even if just for a second it can give people a moment to pause and reflect. . I have learned so much about not only about my love of writing that now has a soul, but also about me as a person. Every person has a teacher who impacted the life of a student, for me, I will cherish the ones that invoked that passion in me, where it was allowable to dream. It was these teachers who helped me discover myself and to believe again. They helped me to find my voice, and for that I am eternally grateful.