remains the quintessential principle of treating any illness or disease. A concept, easily forgotten or ignored. Ancient and medieval medicine was famous for its outlandish cures that were oftentimes far worse than the ailment, often leading to the demise of the patient.
Reflecting on the pandemic, is it possible, that the global response to COVID-19 has become more harmful with indiscriminate, wide-sweeping lockdowns than the actual illness?
It seems, the global tide of mass quarantine, driven by fear-based medicine, has not only caught everyone unprepared but has swept nation upon nation along. It has cemented the responses of (most) local, national, and international governments into ones of unwavering resolve. It has closed society down, social-distanced everyone, and has created an almost Orwellian society. …
I am filled with hope. A hope found outside of myself.
Why hope? The alternative is fear and despair. I’ve already been there. I have hope, not because I’m good or smart or clever, but because hope is the better option. Hope is a choice, a daily choice — like joy. And a hope that finds its roots and origin in grace is more confident, more palpable, more definite.
“Hope is the word which God has written on the brow of every man.”
I was challenged by Danielle Bernock to this Pandemic Word Challenge, in response to Jordin James’ #pandemicword #pandemicwordchallenge. …
Easy for me to say.
How can we even talk about faith, hope, and love amid an unfolding pandemic?
Shouldn’t we run to the nearest store and stock up on hand-sanitizer and dehydrated and canned food? (Good luck finding any.)
Part of the panic and fear stirred in hearts and minds is due to our global interconnectedness — what with the instantaneous dissemination of information via digital and wireless networks. This news has spread, ahead, or on the heels of the novel virus, piggy-bagging with air travelers, the world over.
Denied at first to be a problem, COVID-19 has now turned into a harsh truth. What we have dreamed up in dystopian novels and watched in movie theaters, have, within a few short weeks, become our new reality. …
Grow or stagnate.
We either develop and mature or we vegetate — there’s no in-between — much as we may prefer to maintain the comfort of the status quo.
Can there be a more apt time to reflect on the New Year, the new decade, 2020, ahead of us, than right now? Many of us may already have been swamped by listening to and reading yet another version (or disguise) of New Year’s Resolutions and another approach to reaching goals and living a happy and prosperous life. Enough of all this harping the same string!
But what if we simplify things? What if we could make things less overwhelming? …
Whose heartstrings aren’t touched listening to Bing Cosby crooning the beloved “I’m dreaming of a white Christmas”? Add to that, the voice of Michael Bublé, and the treat is doubled!
Growing up on the plains of Southern Africa, made a white Christmas something we could only dream about — only to be seen on Christmas cards, read about in books, or watched in movies. And did we ever dream! Our Christmases were green (and no less grand), even though it simmered in the summer heat! …
All my panic to get through customs with the parcel for nothing.
Llewellyn Lloyd smiled as he cradled the fragile cardboard box to his chest, striding across the tarmac. He glanced at the terminal building when he reached the portable stairs — he was the last to board. Taking the stairs two at a time, he hurried to the top when the first drops plopped down, then winced when lightning struck, lighting up the skies.
The heavens opened, making him leap across the gap between the stairs and the fuselage, ducking through the aircraft door. …
Opening sentences that hook the reader place every word on trial for its life.
Disclaimer: this is not a fly-fishing story.
But who doesn’t love a campfire story about the big one, this big, that got away? We snuggle closer to the fire, hanging on the storyteller’s lips, drinking in every word.
The art of good writing nestles in the many aspects of storytelling and narration, from word choice and language to metaphor, rhythm, and rhyme, to theme, tension, and topic. Every word counts. …
Oh, it’s a beautiful noise, being blessed and burdened at the same time with modern technology and state-of-the-art communication abilities. We live and work in an online world. Yet, our quest remains, how do I stand out? As writers, authors, entrepreneurs, coaches, consultants, and creatives — how do we make our soapbox stand a little taller, be a bit more colorful and sturdier than the rest?
One way is to be good at woodwork. We build a soapbox that is bigger, better, and brighter.
Believing, then the people will come. We not only try to be interesting; we learn to do so. We learn to clarify our message. We complete one training after the other, we join webinars, complete courses, attend conferences, become part of mastermind groups. …
first things first: each
ailment needs a name
(that fits), a remedy
that cures or soothes
(but doesn’t kill);
with fiberoptic scope
behold the innards
of a man — through
orifice (and hidden
the mouth and throat,
the nose and ear,
the bladder and
the bowel, the womb
(a sacred tomb),
a scope to look at cells,
and one to count the
distance to the moon and
name each far-off star,
tell the speed of light,
(at loss, at best) no
scope be found
to peer inside
or fail to estimate the
weight of broken
dreams, the height
and width of
Why is it that we make it our business to know who the wealthiest person on earth is?
We are filled with awe, finding some pleasure in pondering such wealth and the seemingly endless realm of influence and power it brings. We close our eyes and imagine what it would be like to live such a life, how happy we would be.
Why is it that when we talk about richness, affluence, and wealth, the first thing that comes to mind is money, equity, or financial prowess? Have we, as 21st-century citizens, become so materialistic? Have we unknowingly (or intentionally) placed a dollar value on everything, from time to people, from relationships to vocation, from talents to leisure, only to find, in the quiet of the night, money doesn’t satiate the hunger in our souls? …