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Written and Posted by: Margie Babon   Our greatest inspiration in life is our family—parents, siblings, wife, husband, niece and nephews even our grandparents. Not only the biological family but also true More »

Flower Pattern and Mandala in Sweet Potato

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Understanding People

Written and Posted by: Margie Babon   When looking at people is like trying to look at a pair of slipper with hundred varieties of style and of color. All look similar More »

Forgive Others for not Being Kind

Written and Posted By: Margie Babon    To understand people of how they act and misbehave is the kindest thing we do to ourselves. I repeat, it is the kindest and most beautiful More »

Continue that Dream! Happy 2017!

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Small Note

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Smile Don’t Cost a Thing

Written and Posted By: Margie Babon “Good morning ma’am,” the lady security guard says to the staffs of women who pass by at the x-ray security machine at the entrance of a More »

“Seeking for an Answer”-Personal Experiences about Religion

Written and Posted by: Margie Babon   It is not a surprise to me if some people hate me for what I am writing about religion and cannot accept some ideas that More »

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Written and Posted By: Margie Babon   It was 12th of February, Friday after office during rushed hour where traffic is so heavy and commuting is such a burden.  It is so More »

Real, True, and Pure

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Category Archives: Creative Writing

Follow Your Heart

Written By Walter Rinder

Posted By: Margie Babon

 

follow your heart

 

I know the sun will rise every morning, even when there is fog. I know the whippoorwill sings melodious songs because I have heard them from the enclosure of my room. I know the sky is blue looking through the haze, that the grass is green even when I stand in the desert. I know the branches of trees dance to the movements of the wind even though now it is still. I know the flowers have beautiful smells, that the ocean never sleeps and that snow falls upon high mountains. I know deeply, that all human beings are beautiful if they are born free to follow their hearts.

 

It has been said, long before those written words, that if you build an archway for your heart, with neither lock nor door, life will pass freely in harmony with your senses.

 

TOUCH…your friends, your lover; a stranger, then they are stranger no more. Hold them, feel the beauty of their skin, their face, their hair…as you would touch the delicate petals of a carnation or put your hand in a gentle stream or feel the sand beneath your feet or climb the rocks and crags of the shoreline.

 

LISTEN…to their words, their breathing, their heartbeat, their footsteps on the carpet of leaves as they come to you…as you would listen to the rain or deer running through the forest or the bark of a dog or the cascading of a waterfall or a tiny breeze.

 

SEE…the expressions on their face of their different moods. See in their eyes the longing for love, companionship and a meaningful purpose to their lives. See their hands create their being…as you would see a tidepool, the splash of a wave, a new portrait made by falling snow, the landscape of a valley, the changing of a sunset.

 

SPEAK…to them of love, of the harmony of nature, of quiet understanding among men, of the simple things in life in which one can find peace, of the truth you have found…as you would speak to God.

 

Ride the crest of the wave of the shore.

 

Follow the river till it emerges with the ocean.

 

Look at the cloud till they disappear.

 

Watch the sun rise, its path across the sky, then vanish.

 

When you have experienced these things you will know your heart…follow it.

 

 

 

About Walter Rinder 

Walter Rinder was born in the late thirties under the astrological sign Gemini in Chicago and grew up in that city of, New York and Los Angeles. He left home to work his way around the U.S. taking jobs as bellhop, soap salesman, theater set builder, ranch hand, and landscape artist’s aide. He studied psychology at Phoenix College and Arizona State University, worked in painting, and turned on to photography, posters and poetry in San Francisco. He attributes his real knowledge and awareness to his traveling and reading. His color work has been exhibited in his own North Beach gallery as well as Kaiser Center in Oakland, California; Elmwood gallery in Berkley and San Francisco art festivals.

 

“The magnitude of love achieves is measured by its strength of giving, perception of understanding, faith of  purpose through the passage of time.”- Walter Rinder

 

 

If

Posted By: Margie Babon

Written By: Haresh Daswani

 

This creative writing has been published in 2014.  While trying to upgrade for higher version of word press, some of the post were gone, almost 20 posts were not unable to retrieve, so it needs to be written again and start from scratch.

This inspirational post received more than 2k share. And to repost this for future reader/viewer is very worthy to have.

 

If

 

IF
You realized there was no God No afterlife, no creator…
Would you have still cared for others?
Would you change your morals?
What would you have done different from now?

 

AND IF

There was a God,There was an afterlife…
Do you believe an all knowing God Sees your action as sincere?
Are you happy with what you have done to others?
Do you have any regrets on what you have done?

 

DOES IT MATTER THEN

If there was a God or none?
Are you sincere to your humanism?
Or do you ever really care about others?

 

DOES RELIGION OR LACK OF IT

Make you a better person?
Does it make you worse?

 

HUMANITY IS SET

To the concept that we just lovethe one all pervading energy in the universeGod’s existence should not matter
- to be better
- to love others
- to do what is right
- to do what is fair

 

IN THE END Your choice for your life

- Is to make this world a better place
- Is to touch the lives of whoever you meet

 

AND YOUR GREATEST CHALLENGE

Should you choose to accept
- is to love for the sake of loving
- is to help for the sake of helping
- is to love even your most hated enemy
- is to forgive for the most painful atrocities is to grow and live, and be happy, even if we are all destined to die.

 

In the end, we can choose to hope for an afterlife, or leave a legacy.

 

Your life is one you craft with whatever you have.

Whatever you have, albeit a boon or a curse, are all blessings to a skillful artisan.

 

FOR IN THE END

Your happiness was always in your hand

 

 

 About the author

shapeimage_3Haresh Daswani is the the author of the book “Evolution of Insanity.” 

An entrepreneur, environmentalist, racer, wine lover, writer, and many more random things. Haresh has started writing through poetry and upon its mastery (mostly boredom, you cannot truly master writing as it is an evolving process) has shifted to experimenting with essay and short stories.

Haresh’s passion in short story lies in being able to dwell within the universe of consciousness and experimenting, dissecting, and in short, exploring and destroying and recreating thoughts, concepts, interjecting hallucinations and twists focused on something deeper, engaging the reader to jump in and explore together.

Evolution of Insanity

Purchase the book  Evolution of Insanity thru’ Amazon:

Evolution of Insanity

Know more about Haresh, visit his amazon page

Haresh Daswani’s amazon page

Interesting nterview about Haresh

http://cakunz.blogspot.com/2011/07/author-interview-with-haresh-daswani-d.html

 

 

Morbid

Written by: Haresh Daswani

 

This has been already published in 2014.  While trying to upgrade for higher version of wordpress, some of the post were gone, almost 20 posts were not unable to retrieve, so it needs to write it again and start from the scratch.

   Morbid

Some of the better pieces are written through great sorrow. The apparent anger through tragedy of having one’s self esteem crushed like a delivery flyer could be once said as it has always been said. You can excel and be everything you can be, but you will always be haunted by the flaws the world sees in you, depriving you of the dignity to be possibly loved

I think.

 

Rushing down the hallway with the noise of the shoes tapping on the floor. Tapping and tapping tapping tapping and tapping, tapping tapping tapping

 

and tapping.

 

He passes through hallways of wayward door shapes, wayward being such a wayward word anyway. He looks over and but has no time to see; all he can do is notice and think and rethink. He has no time to think or rethink.

 

He only has time to rush.

 

He is not trying to go somewhere, nor is he running away, but fast walks can be therapeutic, or so it was supposedly stated. He is rushing to forget, rushing, occupied by all that is, and all that can be.

 

Rushing and passing through a blur of wayward looking rooms, some have an orange glow inside them, how strange.

 

He looks not forward, but on the floor of where he is stepping, making sure the next step will be on even ground. Busy on the tapping noises his shoes make as he gets many things done.

 

Many random things, many welcome things, many unwelcome things.

 

The world is full of friends, yet we are meant to be alone apparently.

 

Well, not all of us. Many or most will have someone, the rest will not.

 

And so he walks in his fast pace looking nowhere but the floor, avoiding eye contact for it may just be the same mistake perhaps.

 

How tragic could it be to be achieving those that apparently does not matter anyway. Many people fall for that mistake.

 

Even more tragic is when what matters is what should not have mattered in the first place. Unless of course it has something to do with marketing.

 

But too much thoughts, talks, thoughts and insights, that ruin the pattern already being followed by the constant tapping of the shoes on the floor, ignoring is sometimes less painful, just letting the world blur and pursue walking.

 

Sooner or later is the time of demise. While waiting, keep walking.

 

He has been walking and walking and walking and walking, walking walking and walking

 

and walking.

 

Fast paced to almost the speed of a slow jog but without the hopping.

 

What lies in the wayward doors are neither gods nor demons, or any other fiction.

 

What lies in the wayward doors are neither joy nor pain, or any other abstract.

 

But the orange glow in the wayward room, the blue glow in another room.

 

Do you stop and turn with curiosity, embracing the possibility of yet another disappointment, or do you keep walking and walking and walking

 

and walking?

 

Many times the man is found unworthy to enter, yet with no reason perhaps. Does he turn with curiosity this time or does he keep walking, walking, walking, and walking?

 

Life thus falls silent as the tapping of the shoes has made its call. Tragedy can make stories beautiful, as love letters written in blood has more heart than that of ink.

 

Every tear has a deeper story over a droplet of water.

 

Every scar more beautiful than a skin flawless.

 

Stories, stories are beautiful with tragedy, just as tragic as a violinist pining for her long lost lover. Beautiful.

 

Within morbidity is beauty, a strange one perhaps, but one with a soul, music, soothing the pain within as it heals, caressing where there was void,

 

release, and further release.

 

Accept that which we can never be, and embrace that which no one can accept. The only person, after all, who can accept you for who you are is only yourself, and no one else.

 

 

About the author

shapeimage_3Haresh Daswani is the the author of the book “Evolution of Insanity.”  An entrepreneur, environmentalist, racer, wine lover, writer, and many more random things. Haresh has started writing through poetry and upon its mastery (mostly boredom, you cannot truly master writing as it is an evolving process) has shifted to experimenting with essay and short stories. Haresh’s passion in short story lies in being able to dwell within the universe of consciousness and experimenting, dissecting, and in short, exploring and destroying and recreating thoughts, concepts, interjecting hallucinations and twists focused on something deeper, engaging the reader to jump in and explore together.

Evolution of Insanity Purchase the book thru’ Amazon Evolution of Insanity

To know more about Haresh, visit his amazon page Haresh Daswani’s amazon page

Interesting nterview about Haresh http://cakunz.blogspot.com/2011/07/author-interview-with-haresh-daswani-d.html    

 

Artwork by: Margie Babon

 

Tacloban Post Card

Written  By: Margie Babon

 

The Provincial Capitol Building built in 1907.

 

In a busy street

Full of concrete

I found a treasure

Written in the history

 

Corinthian column at The Capitol

 

Old American buildings

Some are Spanish

Others in an Indonesian motif

It was lovely if only preserved

Amazing,  if only conserved.

 

Part of the Hotel and Convention center at the Leyte Park.

 

The downtown,

Quite disappointing..

Giving up?

Not an option,

I want to see

A charming potion.

 

6:30 morning light at Leyte Park

 

Mangrove area under the famous San Juanico Bridge

 

So I follow the light

at six-thirty

Thank God,

I was lucky

Exquisite scenery

Awaits me!

 

6:30 morning light at Leyte Park

 

Hotel and Convention Center at Leyte Park

 

Pool amenities at Leyte Park Hotel and Convention Center

 

Thank you Tacloban,

For a short moment.

It was wonderful!

 

Open ocean in front of Leyte Park

 

What a perfect shot

That the nature has cast.

 

The Astrodome

 

In a cloudy late afternoon, the famous San Juanico bridge that connects Leyte and Samar Island in its 2km. span built in 1969-1972, still the longest bridge in the Philippines.

 

Lucky for me to see a Philippine flag being raised during the flag ceremony with the government employee of Leyte.

 

Mc Arthur wall sculpture at The Capitol

 

If Mc Arthur says,

“I shall return.”

No idea

When

I will return.

 

Photography: Margie Babon, 2013. All Rights Reserved

 

 

About the Author

Margie Babon has given a privilege to become a wildlife photographer in 2006 that let her choose to be a vegetarian for seven years now. Has background in film making as a producer and researcher on the plight of Agta-Dumagat documentary film Children of the Mountains that garnered the 2005 Mark Haslam Awardee  in Toronto, Canada. Sharing her passion in photography, drawing & creative writing  is a great opportunity to express wisdom  which is far beyond teaching career for more than five years in College of Architecture and School of Fine Arts.

 

An Extension of Your Heart

Posted by:  Margie Babon

 

 

Your hand opens and closes and opens and closes.

If it were always a fist or always stretched open,

you’d be paralyzed.

Your deepest presence is in every small contracting

and expanding,

the two as beautifully balanced and coordinated

as bird wings.

-    Rumi

 

Hands are tools of the brain to make ideas realistic and tangible. The word manifestation is formed from the word manus which is the Latin word for hand. Hands thought to be a conduit power that transforms the unseen energy into the world of form.

In almost all religion, joining of hands in prayer position is a sign towards holiness. Different hand position known as mudras are very important in Hinduism and Buddhism, hand position that symbolically carrying energy, wisdom and divine power in meditation.

 

After coming into contact with a religious man I always feel I must wash my hands. –Friedrich Nietzsche

All the powers in the universe are already ours. It is we who have put our hands before our eyes and cry that it is dark. – Swami Vivikenanda

 

Beyond the physical form of human hands, Walter Rinder shares his deep thoughts on hands as an extension of the heart that creates, has feelings and gives love and emotions.

 

Hands by Walter Rinder

Our hands are extensions of our heart, through their movements people know what we are, who we are and how we feel.

Take hold of someone’s hand. You can feel the beating of their heart, the very substance of their life. The hand has as many expressions as the face and if you don’t see any reactions from the face watch their hands…covering their face in desperation, reaching out for warmth, caressing your body with love, clawing to push death away, tension in holding something, their motion in creating, their movements in happiness, stillness in idleness or loneliness.

The shape of the hands follows the structure of the body, heavy, thin, muscular, fragile, strong, smooth, rough.

Our mind is the energy. Our hands the projection of that energy.

Take someone’s hand and you will have, in that moment, begun the awareness of yourself. That moment has seed of the creation of love, every time it is done.
The hands are so very sensitive to the elements of nature. Feel the bark of a tree. Put your hands in the snow or a cold stream. Run your fingers across the sand. Put your hands up to the rain or the sun or the wind, all different feelings. Touch he coat of a dog or a skin of a snake.

As the years pass your hands gain knowledge as does your mind, and grow older as does your body.

Your hands carry episodes of your life: scarred, stained, calloused, scratched.

Let your hands become the joining together of you and another human being, the extension of your heart, the merging of two rivers, the grafting of two branches, the birth of new life.

Your hands are you.

 

How you use your hands is how you express yourself: your mind, your heart and your intent.

Each day that you go to sleep, do thank your hands for doing a lot of work from morning ’til evening, it deserves a lot of gratitude.

 

A man paint with his brains and not with his hands.- Michaelangelo

 

 

About Walter Rinder 

Walter Rinder was born in the late thirties under the astrological sign Gemini in Chicago and grew up in that city of, New York and Los Angeles. He left home to work his way around the U.S. taking jobs as bellhop, soap salesman, theater set builder, ranch hand, and landscape artist’s aide. He studied psychology at Phoenix College and Arizona State University, worked in painting, and turned on to photography, posters and poetry in San Francisco. He attributes his real knowledge and awareness to his traveling and reading. His color work has been exhibited in his own North Beach gallery as well as Kaiser Center in Oakland, California; Elmwood gallery in Berkley and San Francisco art festivals.

 

 

 

About the Author

Margie Babon was given a privilege to be a wildlife photographer in 2006 that let her choose to become a vegetarian for seven years now. Has background in film making as a producer and researcher on the plight of Agta-Dumagat documentary film Children of the Mountains that garnered the 2005 Mark Haslam Awardee  in Toronto, Canada. Sharing her passion in photography, drawing & creative writing  is a great opportunity to express her wisdom which is beyond academic teaching career of more than five years in College of Architecture and School of Fine Arts.

 

 

 

The Couple

Posted by: Margie Babon

 

 Birds perching on a wire fence, a pair of yellow butterfly are dancing around the red roses on a rusted tin can, while a white cat enjoys the warmness of a sandy rug near the main door.

Carefully touching the knob and turn it off, Remy is looking for something; she moves her hand and grabs the pot holder and carefully pours hot water on her mug. The open ceiling of the bathroom reaches the aroma of the coffee that wakes up Dante.  “Are you finish taking a bath?,” Remy yelled.

“Mother, what is our breakfast?,” Tony asked. “Will you help me Tony to fry the dried fish?  We still have bread for you to eat.”  “I have to wake-up Leni, we have to go to school early today,” Tony replied.  “I want coffee,” Leni yelled while scratching her head and walks toward the kitchen/dining table that are only ten steps away from the bed. “We need to go to school early Leni, we need to help teacher Ella to clean her room,” Tony said. “Did you pour some coffee to my mug Remy,?” Dante asked while changing his shirt.  “I divided one sachet of coffee for the four of us, just add sugar to make it tasty,” Remy replied.  “Remy, fry at least eight dried fish, I already cooked rice and put it in the lunch box,” Dante said.  “Mother, how much is my allowance for today,” Tony asked. “I will give you allowance, tonight, will you still sell garland at the church tonight?,” Remy replied. “I will also sell garland,” Leni said. “Yes mother, the profit I will earn tonight is for us to buy rice, coffee and eggs,” Tony said.  “Fry the fish now Leni, we will be late for the work,” Dante yelled.

After an hour, Tony and Leni are ready for school with the slippers on. “Mother, some teacher will give us notebook and bag,” Leni said. “That is good, Sister Ces will give you a pair of shoes, and she will give it tonight after practice.  “When you arrive after school, clean the house and cook rice before both of you leave to meet us at the church, we can wait for you while selling garland,” Dante said.

“Opo, nanay at tatay” (Yes mother and father),” Leni and Tony said as they kissed goodbye to their parents.

Thirty minutes after, a tricycle arrived in their house, it was Joseph, the assistant worker at the church.

“Remy, bring our lunch box,  I have to get the guitar,” Dante said. “I have it with me and the bottled water; I am ready, are you ready? Let’s go,” Remy said.

Unknowingly, what the road looks like, the couple knows they have reached the church; the ringing of the bell, the footsteps of less than 20 people approaching the entrance door.  A woman in white dress approach Remy and Dante.

“Remy, this is Sister Ces, (while holding the hands of Remy)  the priest is asking you to join the choir for Friday mass. I will also give the shoes for your kids after our practice this afternoon. Have you eaten for breakfast?,” Ces asked.  “Thank you sister Ces, you are so kind.   We have eaten already. Thank you for inviting us to join the choir,” Remy happily replied.

“Does it mean we will sing every Friday, sister Ces?”, Dante asked.  “Oh yes, Father Gary said, both of you will be members of the choir and you will sing at every mass of weekdays, morning and evening. The church will give you allowance on a daily basis,” Ces replied. “Thank you so much Sister Ces for helping us,” Dante said. “You are very welcome; we are here to help you. I have to go back at the convent now. The church allows you to stay whole day here while waiting for our practice. Perhaps, serenade some guests from other convent when they get here at ten.” Sister Ces explained. “Thank you so much Sister Ces, God bless you always,” Remy replied.

While Dante is setting up his guitar, mono bloc chair and the wooden coin box,  Remy is praying silently, “God, thank you for the wonderful people who are helping us to survive, for us to buy food each day.  Thank you for the greatest blessings, our kids Tony and Leni that are so much loving and kind; we may not see them in our lifetime but we know in our hearts they have beautiful shining faces for they light up our lives.  Thank you for the talent you have given to us, a skill that will help us to raise our kids.”

Dante feels that his wife is in tears, he gave Remy a hug. “Don’t cry, we will be with our kids tonight and tell them the good news,” Dante said.

Remy is ready for another day, she grab her harmonica and Dante started to strum the guitar.

Sunshine hits the green grass, birds perching the palm tree.

White, yellow, red, blue, orange…colorful balloons dancing in the air. The balloon seller is enjoying, dancing and humming to the music of the blind couple.

 

“Judge not your brother,
Walk a mile in his shoes.
You see he’s doing the best,
That he can do.


Judge not your brother,
Walk a mile in his shoes.
You see he’s doing the best,
That he can do,
Like me and you.”

 

Dante is inspired to practice more and more while Remy is excited for the new pair of shoes for Leni and Tony.

 

 Christian, Jew, Muslim, shaman, Zoroastrian, stone, ground, mountain, river, each has a secret way of being with the mystery, unique and not to be judged.      -Rumi

 

 

Credits: Judge Not Your Brother music by Eric Bibb   http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EE81OnUk9Ks

 

 

About the Author

Margie Babon was given a privilege to be a wildlife photographer in 2006 that let her choose to become a vegetarian for seven years now. Has background in film making as a producer and researcher on the plight of Agta-Dumagat documentary film Children of the Mountains that garnered the 2005 Mark Haslam Awardee  in Toronto, Canada. Sharing her passion in photography, drawing & creative writing  is a great opportunity to express her wisdom which is beyond academic teaching career of more than five years in College of Architecture and School of Fine Arts.

 

 

 

Humanist Poet Walter Rinder

Posted by: Margie Babon

 

Yesterday, I went to a surplus book shop and found a book entitled, “Love is an Attitude” by Walter Rinder. I was amazed by the collection of prose and photographs contain in this book which was published in 1970 and followed by more publication in series of month’s in 1971.  Though the book is already used and in black and white photos, I find it a genuine treasure considering I bought it only for a dollar. As I scan the pages, I can’t avoid asking, “How can this man compose a poem beyond the thinking of a human being?”

It is a privilege to know and get inspired by this man Walter Rinder. His work contains nothing but greater depth of understanding the different aspect of life with unconditional love in his heart. Every verse of the poem is soulful; every sentence of the essay is celestial.

As what Alan Richards commented,

Walter Rinder’s works are a labor of love, for his whole life has been dedicated to doing his best to express what is often inexpressible in human language: the unconditional love of God that embraces and is within All That Is.  “Love is everywhere.  It is the night sky where the stars smile… It is a seed nourished by two human beings.”  Great sages like Rinder, Shakespeare, and Rumi express their heart’s desire: to return to God, to return to Love.

Featured here is one of his essays entitled Spectrum of Love which became a phenomenal book that was published in 1984.

If only people around the world act and think like a person in this essay, perhaps, there would be no divorce and broken relationship. Every one act out of love, understanding, true joy and peace.

May the wisdom and lessons you will find herein help you to seek inner truth and lead you towards unconditional love to God, to the humanity and towards yourself. 

 

Spectrum of Love

“I Love You.”

There is a much greater motivation than simply my spoken words.

For me to love, is to commit myself, freely and without reservation. I am sincerely interested in your happiness and well being.

Whatever your needs are, I will try to fulfill them and will bend in my values depending on the importance of your need. I f you are lonely and need me, I will be there. If in that loneliness you need to talk, I will listen. If you need to listen, I will talk. If you need the strength of human touch, I will touch you. If you need to be held, I will hold you. I will lie naked in body with you if that be your need. If you need fulfillment of the flesh, I will give you that also, but only through my love.

I will try to be constant with you so that you will understand the core of my personality and from that understanding you can gain strength and security that I am acting as me.  I may falter with my moods. I may project, at times, a strangeness that is alien to you which may bewilder or frighten you. There will be times when you question my motives. But because people are never constant and are as changeable as the seasons, I will try to build up within you a faith in my fundamental attitude and show you that my inconsistency is only for a moment and not a lasting part of me. I will show you love now. Each and every day is a lifetime. Every day we live, we lean more how to love or neglect it, for if I wait until tomorrow, tomorrow never comes. It is like a cloud in the sky, passing by. They always do you know!

If I give you kindness and understanding, then I will receive your faith. If I give hate and dishonesty, I will receive your distrust. If I give you fear and am afraid, you will become afraid and fear me.    Will give to you what I need to receive.

The degree of love I give is determined by my own capability. My capability is determined by the environment of my past existence and my understanding of love, truth and God.  My understanding is determined by my parents, friends, places I have lived and been. Each experience is fed into my mind from living.

I will give you as much love as I can. If you will show me how to give more, then I will give you more. I can only give as much as you need to receive all I can give, and then my love is endless and fulfilled. If you receive a portion (part) of my love, then I will give others the balance I am capable of giving. I must give all that I have, being what I am.

Love is universal. Love is the movement of life. I have loved a boy, girl, my parents, art, nature. All things in life I find beautiful. No human being or society has the right to condemn any kind of love I feel or my way to expressing it, if I am sincere being the honest realization of myself without hurt or pain for my life or any my life touches.

I want to become a truly loving spirit. Let my words, if I must speak, become a restoration of your soul. But when speech is silent, does a man project the great depth of his sensitivity. When I touch you, or kiss you, hold you, I am saying a thousand words.

 

“Love is an Attitude”  (Book Review)

Rinder is apparently the biggest thing in poetry since the McKuen of “Stanyan Street and Other Sorrows.” – William Hogan, San Francisco Chronicle, 18 January 1971

“It is what this society of ours need, an awareness of love, truth and God.” – a Kentucky nun

“You have put the very core of my being into form I have been struggling with for a quite some time.” –an Oakland, Calif. woman

 

About Walter Rinder 

Walter Rinder was born in the late thirties under the astrological sign Gemini in Chicago and grew up in that city of, New York and Los Angeles. He left home to work his way around the U.S. taking jobs as bellhop, soap salesman, theater set builder, ranch hand, and landscape artist’s aide. He studied psychology at Phoenix College and Arizona State University, worked in painting, and turned on to photography, posters and poetry in San Francisco. He attributes his real knowledge and awareness to his traveling and reading. His color work has been exhibited in his own North Beach gallery as well as Kaiser Center in Oakland, California; Elmwood gallery in Berkley and San Francisco art festivals.

 

“The magnitude of love achieves is measured by its strength of giving, perception of understanding, faith of  purpose through the passage of time.”- Walter Rinder

 

 

About the Author

Margie Babon was given a privilege to be a wildlife photographer in 2006 that let her choose to become a vegetarian for seven years now. Has background in film making as a producer and researcher on the plight of Agta-Dumagat documentary film Children of the Mountains that garnered the 2005 Mark Haslam Awardee  in Toronto, Canada. Sharing her passion in photography, drawing & creative writing  is a great opportunity to express her wisdom which is beyond academic teaching career of more than five years in College of Architecture and School of Fine Arts.

 

 

A Dream

Posted By: Margie Babon

roses

Her sisters are wishing her luck, wishing happiness and more love. Wearing a white gown, off-shoulder, her gown illuminates by the blue water like a deity full of light moving gracefully at the gazebo.

The symbol of purity and virtue are in her hands, a bouquet of white roses reflect her  inner beauty even more. Feliza is thinking if the happiness is natural or pretending, “it feels so wonderful to be married,” she silently told herself. Knowing on a deeper part of her heart, she wants a special appreciation and understanding from someone very special– her husband.

She’s looking for her groom for about fifteen minutes but won’t find him.  “Where he must be?,” murmuring a prayer, she walks towards  the garden…into the woods but failed to find him.  She rests her eyes on the blooming lavender, roses and lilies.  “Where is he?,” still she keeps on asking.

Decided to take a sit, her flowing white gown touches softly the green grass.  While holding a dozen white roses, she is asking herself,   “Is he really happy of this event? That I asked too much of the wedding? Or perhaps, I should be contented of what he wants, a simple celebration wearing casual clothes and just the two of us.”

While plucking off the petals, she holds the bouquet closer to her heart, her tears started to flow while reflecting on the arguments two weeks ago. Talking silently in her heart, “Is it a sin that I am not content of what life is offering me? God, if life is a collection of nothing but experiences, is my attitude too bad if I want better experiences than being simple?  Is it a selfish love if I share my dreams to someone else and keep on hoping and expecting to make it happen? If the attitude of achieving more and making things better is unrighteous, forgive me, this is the self I live with. Help me to accept and understand people, events and things as they are.”

While meditating, a white butterfly kissed her cheek and quickly flies away.  “Mom is that you?,”  Feliza said. Recalling her present moment that she’s alone, though longing for embrace, her parents are in heaven already… her tears keep on flowing and flowing again.

“Ouch” she shouted. Feliza did not notice the ants are on her feet. She was awoken and everything is just a dream.

Still resting alone on a shaded hammock by the twin lake.

 

There’s only one corner of the universe you can be certain of improving, and that’s your own self. -Aldous Huxley, English writer, 1894-1963                                                                                                                 

 

 

About the Author

Margie Babon was given a privilege to be a wildlife photographer in 2006 that let her choose to become a vegetarian for seven years now. Has background in film making as a producer and researcher on the plight of Agta-Dumagat documentary film Children of the Mountains that garnered the 2005 Mark Haslam Awardee  in Toronto, Canada. Sharing her passion in photography, drawing & creative writing  is a great opportunity to express her wisdom which is beyond academic teaching career of more than five years in College of Architecture and School of Fine Arts.

 

 

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