In a world of increasing Artificial Intelligence, are you missing the human touch? I am. In 1992, Bruce Springsteen penned a song titled “Human Touch”. I suppose he was ahead of his time.

image source; Unsplash by ThisisEngineering RAEng

These days, the human touch seems to be missing, a dreadful consequence of automated life. It’s not that I’m a super social butterfly–in some ways I am the opposite. I prefer to remain in my studio, as many writers and artists do, rather than host a party for example.

Are you feeling the Magic of the season? For me, it comes and goes. I have days where I’m meh about it all. Whatever, Santa’s no big deal.

And it’s just so damn dark all the time. Even though it’s been short days for almost two months, I’m still surprised when I look out the window to see that my day has been stolen. Like I have lost a sense of time for a split second. It could be either 5:30 pm or 8:30 pm because it’s pitch black outside. Thank goodness for mini twinkle lights, right?

And baby, it’s cold outside.

We’re approaching the winter solstice and the shortest day of the year. Do you celebrate the solstice more so than Christmas day? Winter solstice is beginning to hold more meaning for me as the years pass. Meanwhile, the importance of December 25th seems to be diminishing as I get older.

Welcome spooky, October…looks like me trying to come up with a brilliant blog post…

Well, September came and went in a flash. I didn’t write one post here and that is a first for me. I have never gone a whole month without writing something here. Should this concern me? I remember the early days of my blogging back in 2011-12 and I didn’t understand bloggers who would take long, unexpected breaks but now I do. They had been in the game for several years and eventually, we change.

You are an unfinished poem

Stuck in my heart,

Appearing on the horizon

Like an unanswered question

Simple as one-two-three,

Further from reality

But as real as flesh on bone

The lively echo of your smile

Keeps me thinking,

What's left incomplete

Is sometimes just as sweet

As the holy "amen"

At the end of a silent prayer

-LTW-

Photo by Leon Biss on Unsplash 

We’re already half way through summer. It always goes far too quickly of all the seasons. Winter? Dragging…like an ellipses. Spring? The start of a new thought; like a semicolon. Autumn? Gathering, like a comma ordering things. But summer! The exclamation of the seasons. Bright, long days, swimming, parties and other exclamatory activities! But gone all too soon.

The Tattoo Club

I had a dream.

You treated me to a tattoo

For my birthday surprise.

I could not decide on the design

So many choices!

It’s funny, because

I realized

How hard this must be.

For you loathe tattoos

But want me to be

Happy just the same.

It was so clean and

The needle pain-free.

The final poke brought

me into a club–The Tattoo Club.

My forearm was the extremity of choice

(but never would be in real life).

Ink so bold and yet I felt the same.

I awoke before it bled,

Then I laughed as I watched you sleep beside me.

You had no idea what you had just done.

LTW.

Are you in the tattoo club?

image source: Photo by Natalie Rhea on Unsplash

I’m thinking there are two types of people in this world: those who mend and those who discard. Actually let me add a third type; those who want to mend but cannot. They take their mending to have it done by a pro (smart folks).

I used to be in the second and third category but as I’ve gotten a bit older, I mend more often. Since I was a child, I have almost ‘enjoyed’ sewing by hand. Almost. My grandma taught me how to thread the needle and how to make a few stitches. I used to watch her ‘darning’ my father’s socks when she came to stay with us.  She was pretty good with a sewing needle. She did not have a sewing machine.

Such a small word for so large a meaning. To be brave even when you fear it. Whatever ‘it’ might be. I wrote in my art journal with a white pen on black painted paper (setting the mood), exactly what I needed to hear. Funny how that works. Well, the purpose of journaling truly is to help us muddle through emotions, doubts and life stuff. As I re-read this passage, I felt it might be helpful to my readers.