#1000Speak – The Village is REAL – part 1

Feb20

Over the past couple of weeks compassion has been front and center in my life, in my mind, and on my heart. It’s not something new mind you, I’ve always tried my best to incorporate compassion into every aspect of my life, but since I was blessed with becoming part of the 1000 Voices Speak For Compassion campaign, I’ve been immersed in it.

And I realized a few things.

First – I hadn’t even noticed it, but I was losing faith in humanity. Not completely, but enough to break my heart just a little bit at the realization. I was no longer seeing the good. I used to look for it, I would seek it out when it wasn’t obvious. Somewhere along the line I stopped looking, and as a result, I began to think there was no good left to be found.

Second – I stopped trying to be the good I saw missing. I’m not saying I became a heartless wretch by any means, but I may have let a few opportunities to be the good someone else needed pass by. I was letting my annoyances show and my aggravations alter my actions.

Third – I was retreating. This is something I’ve had to fight throughout my life, the desire, the need to shut down and distance myself. The problem was, I began retreating from the ones I love most. I was moving farther and farther away from myself as well and the distance was making me angry.

But then . . . a wake up call. A message, a reminder. There is good.

I had a choice to make. I am still thanking God for guiding me in the right direction. I chose to seek the good and the amazing, slightly unexpected, and glorious thing is – I found some. The even more surprising part, at least to me, is I decided to become a part of it all.

I can see the good again. The bad hasn’t gone away, it likely never will, but as long as I can see the good, as long as I know I am part of that good, I can breathe.

They say actions speak louder than words, but words, to me, are action as well. The #1000Speak initiative is proof of that. It started with words born from a need, a desire for change. A plea for help, a call to action. It began with words on a page and it sparked something magical. This is where it began . . . we-all-need-the-village, written by Lizzi and shared with the world on her blog, Considerings.

When another beautiful blogger, Yvonne, read her words, she took them to heart and made a suggestion – What if we all joined our voices and created the village? She did more than just share an idea, she decided to build the village and people began moving in. I’m sure she may have thought the notion of getting 1000 bloggers to come together on one day, today, February 20, 2015, might be a bit of a challenge, but it wasn’t. They came quickly and happily and soon exceeded 1000.

It is a beautiful village and I am honored to walk its virtual streets, paved with good intentions and love.

Over the past couple of weeks, words of compassion have been pouring from the hearts of everyone involved, sharing without hesitation or reservation the deepest, truest, and most beautiful parts of themselves. It is awe-inspiring.

This virtual village is real and while the words and images shared by those who reside there are characters on a screen, their message has become tangible and found its way into the real world. I know this because I exist in this real world and if the words splashed across my screen can bring about a change in me and renew my spirit, I know it is doing the same for others. When our spirits are awakened and challenged it leads to action and action changes everything.

The next couple of posts here at The Qwiet Muse will be my contributions to 1000 Voices Speak For Compassion. Click the little blue linky button below to view or share your own links and join the chorus of compassion.

#1000Speak – Jesse and the man in the suit – Compassion isn’t complicated

Feb18

The ‪#‎1000Speak‬ day of compassion -compassion awareness- is here! On the 20th, (which for some of us is now) bloggers from around the globe will be posting their stories and thoughts about compassion. I hope you are blessed enough to read many of them, all of them!

I also hope you join us in spreading this message of compassion. Sometimes it’s easy to find ourselves wondering if there is any compassion left in this world . . . there is and it is beautiful.

Help us reach as many hearts as we can by sharing, liking, and tweeting the #1000Speak posts you come across.

Be a part of compassion in action!

Click the little blue linky frog following the post to add your #1000Speak links.

~ I hope you come back and visit me throughout the day ~ I’ll be sharing more of my own thoughts on compassion, I’d love to share them with you . . .

I am a consummate people watcher, seeing people outside of their inner circles, their comfort zones, and their safety nets while out shopping and running errands is fascinating. People tend to be at their most real when out and about, alone, without putting on pretenses for the people they are closest to. The masks so many of us often wear come off and the trueness of self shows.

It’s not always pretty what lies beneath.

Some people wear their compassion on their sleeve for all to see. It is simply who they are. Others wear it as a mask they sometimes forget to hide behind.

“Compassion asks us to go where it hurts, to enter into the places of pain, to share in brokenness, fear, confusion, and anguish. Compassion challenges us to cry out with those in misery, to mourn with those who are lonely, to weep with those in tears. Compassion requires us to be weak with the weak, vulnerable with the vulnerable, and powerless with the powerless. Compassion means full immersion in the condition of being human.” Henri J.M. Nouwen

I know of a man who gave of what he had; he gave generous donations to charities, he dropped off no longer needed items to be delivered and dispersed among the needy. He gave, and he gave often. Most saw these actions as the good works of a compassionate man leading an altruistic life.

To the ones benefiting from his philanthropic endeavors he was exactly those things, but he did these things not out of compassion as much as he did them for the accolades and the nice tax write-offs he received. In his daily dealings he was cold and selfish. He would walk past a thirsty man without giving a second glance on his way to buy an expensive cup of coffee, and he did just that almost every day.

I know of another man; he used to sit on the corner by that same coffee shop the wealthy man frequented, he never asked for anything. He sat there at the corner, watching people go by, accepting whatever kindnesses they offered. He was gracious with his gratitude when they stopped, he always said “God bless you as He has blessed me.”

If a kind stranger brought him something to eat or drink from the coffee shop, he gave the first portion of it to his little dog, his best friend. If you asked him what he would like, he’d say his pooch would love a sip of water and if they have any world peace, he wouldn’t mind a bit of that. Mostly, he just wanted someone to sit and chat with him a while. I have a feeling if he saw someone walking by without shoes, he would have offered them his own.

He was a compassionate man. I don’t see him there at the corner by the coffee shop anymore, I often wonder where he is and hope wherever it is, he is warm and happy. Sometimes, I get a little emotional when I look over to where he used to sit, singing old church hymns and petting his little dog.

I think about all the people who walked right by him, who looked his way and never saw him. I’m sure most were wonderful people, perhaps kind and compassionate in many ways, but they walked by him. Purposely not looking. If they could have done nothing else for him, a smile may have been just compassionate enough to ease the trials he had to endure that day.

“If we have no peace, it is because we have forgotten that we belong to each other.” Mother Teresa

The man in the fancy suit who wrote monthly donation checks is just a small dot in my memory, he has no face, no name, no real reason for being in my mind except to serve as an example of what compassion is not.

The other man, his name was Jesse and I can still see his sweet smile when I think about him. The one who had nothing to give gave more than the man in the fancy suit will likely give in his entire lifetime every time he said, “God bless you as He has blessed me.”

You see, compassion isn’t complicated. It just isn’t.

People seem to think it’s some enormous endeavor, when really, it’s quite simple. You do what you can for others when you can, with what you have and if all you have is a smile and a prayer, give it to them. Give it to everyone.

“Too often we underestimate the power of a touch, a smile, a kind word, a listening ear, an honest compliment, or the smallest act of caring, all of which have the potential to turn a life around.” Leo Buscaglia

There is no such thing as someone unworthy of our compassion, maybe the ones we feel the most unworthy recipients are the ones who need it the most, if for no other reason than to keep our hearts from becoming jaded, cold, and cruel. For this reason, I still pray for the man in the suit and hope he too, is warm and happy.

“Doing nothing for others is the undoing of ourselves.” Horace Mann

Crystal R. Cook

Photo credit – Irene Wilson

Click the little froggy guy below to share YOUR #1000Speak links!

Compassion – #1000Speak

Feb17

#1000Speak Topic Reveal – Sort of.

Feb16

Since I decided to add my voice to #1000Speak, compassion has been a constant on my mind and in my heart. I’ve found myself actively seeking out compassion, in part, to reassure myself it still exists.

It does.

I’m a little late for the topic reveal party because I’ve not been able to pin down just what it is I want to say. Defining compassion is huge, in reading all the beautiful sentiments and statements my fellow #1000Speak bloggers have been sharing, I find myself feeling very small. Compassion. Is. HUGE.

It is more than a word, more than an action; it’s just so huge.

I’ve been attempting to define it in some way, but really, compassion is uniquely defined by every individual in a personal way, the givers and the receivers. The dictionary definition for compassion is far too simplistic an explanation, mere words cannot encompass the enormity of it.

For my part, on February 20th, I am going to do my best to define what compassion is, at least what it is to me. I’ve been scribbling down thoughts in notebooks and scraps of paper for weeks, now it’s time to compile them and see what they become.

Crystal R. Cook

Life Is Better With Art In It

Feb15

From the creative mind and talented hand of Angela West, my little girl . . .

It’s almost time – Compassion has a voice.

Feb14

My Heart Soars Like a Quaffle – Nerd Love is Fantastical

Feb14

So Valentines Day — It’s here. I was going to write something lovey and gushy and sweet, but before I did, I asked my son what words he would put down instead . . . words aren’t really his thing (even though they are and he just doesn’t realize it), I could see the little wheels begin to spin and he said he’d get back to me.

He and the adorably nerdy geekdom that are his circle of friends, had a text party that night.

While he waited for his friends to get their romantical ideas to him, we sat down and wrote our own, sort of. We did string together the words, but most had already been said, you might recognize their sources. It’s short and sweet.

I would follow you beyond the blackest gates,

into unseen dangers if you’d only wear my ring.

I would wait for 2000 years just to see your face, my precious.

If we were ever torn apart

I would face the depths of the unknown,

for my hearts; they beat only for you,

can’t you hear the drumming?

I would pull time itself apart for you.

When we met I wondered

if I’d wandered into a dream,

and when I said I love you,

you simply said I know.

Quantumly entangled,

it’s together or not at all.

If you asked me how long I was going to stay,

I would say forever,

because we’re all just stories in the end.

Ask of me anything,

I will grant it to you . . .

as you wish.

So back to my sons geek squad of *romantics for a day*, I provided the beginning and what follows makes my heart soar because a group of teenagers and twenty-somethings took time out on a Friday night to come up with these cheesy, surprisingly sweet, and innocent lines of . . . I guess we’ll call it love.

Romeo and Juliette had a love so tragic,

but James and Lilly Potter —

their love was truly magic.

It lives on and on forever,

that much can be said,

you can see it on their faces

in The Mirror of Erised.

My heart screams for you like a mandrake,

like a mermaid in the black lake,

when I cannot be with you.

My heart soars like a quaffel

every time you eat a waffle.

Dragons are red,

Nevilles face is blue,

petrificus totalus

attracts me to you.

Flue powder is green,

the portkeys a shoe,

I feel my best

when I’m traveling with you.

You are a golden snitch

and I’m a humble seeker,

I know that when I catch you,

you will be a keeper.

My Nerdy Valentine – love this boy so much.

So I’ve not written a sonnet or an ode or an epic ballad of love this year, I just had some fun with my son and his adorably fantastic friends — the laughter and the love filling the room as we played was a gift, and these silly words will always be my portkey to take me right back to it, that makes them far more epic than ten thousand words penned to a page.

Crystal R. Cook

His Boots

Feb10

Sharing in honor of Valentines Day . . .

I remember writing this the night my husband

returned home from Iraq.

It was his third and last homecoming

from that faraway place . . .

He’s since retired.

The sight of those boots laying there at our bedside

was one of the most beautiful things I’ve ever seen.

Dust from another world,

soles worn from wear,
the color of sand,
wrinkled and creased
from the miles
marched in,
fought in,
slept in.

Dappled with the
darkened stains
from fallen sweat
and silent tears.

On the floor
by the bedside
they lay,
weary from war.

Worn with pride
ready again for service,
but now they rest
beside the bed where
the soldier sleeps.

Safe, loved,
home with me.

When tomorrow comes
a little boy
will wear the boots,
clumsily making his
way around the house.

He doesn’t know
where those
boots have been,
he just knows
they are his daddy’s
and he is home
again . . .

Crystal R. Cook

Girl gaga! Ha! Gotta love spam.

Feb9

“What i do not understood is in fact how you’re no longer really a
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opinion imagine it from so many varied angles.
Its like women and men aren’t interested except it’s one thing to accomplish with Girl gaga!
Your personal stuffs nice. Always maintain it up”

Yes, girl gaga – I has it. Sometimes the spam comments really amuse me 🙂 This particular bit of poorly translated spammage has popped up a few times, makes me laugh every time!

Maintain it up, my friends, maintain it up . . .

Our Camp Grenada – Apologies to Mr. Sherman

Feb9

Found sillies from the shoebox – I love rediscovering things I jotted down and tucked away . . . She was likely a pre-teen when I presented this one to her. It had no effect on the state of her room. Ever.

I may revise it for her and her husband.

My silly lyrics loosely based on what I remember of Camp Grenada by Alan Sherman – This version is lovingly dedicated to my daughter, my inspiration, my messy muse if you will. I dramatized things just a tad, but the premise of this little ditty is based on actual events, my husband and I are still in therapy, but things are getting better by the day.

I’ve actually had this tune stuck in my head since 1977 I believe, at least the tune to the first verse, I’m not certain if it even has any variation in tune between stanzas, all I know is it haunts me. It never leaves. It’s the fault of my sweet little troll sister. She sang it repeatedly from the age of five until just shy of her ninth birthday. I wonder if she even remembers the song.

This is your muddah,

and your fadahh,

we’re writing to ya,

our dear daughta,

we’d like to say that,

we really love ya,

but if you don’t clean your room we’re gonna holla.

We are standing,

in your room now,

things are movin,

and things are crawlin,

dad looks mad now,