Category Archives: Essays

February 25, 2018

Sunday’s Week in ReVerse – 25 February 2018

By Kat Myrman

If you are reading this, you have survived another week on this planet. It’s a crap shoot isn’t it? We are born into this complicated world with a fierce sense of survival that is so easily swayed by false senses of security. The truth is, as the sayings go, “none of us are promised tomorrow” for “we will not leave this place alive”. Which is all the more reason to seize each moment.

Still, it’s hard not to worry, to suffer angst and fear. Fear is a heartless beast. It likes to build on hypotheticals and what ifs. Even more despicable are those who exploit and profit from its proliferation.

But, what if we could accept the inevidabilty of our mortality. What if we were not afraid of our emotions; the highs and the lows and actually embraced the exquisite passion to be found in ecstasy and in grief?

Would the fear-mongers have less control over us? In truth, they would like nothing more than to dictate to us how we should be feeling. They thrive because we are willing to abdicate our freedom to their twisted protectionism. Resignation and compliance is the price of liberty they say. But it is not freedom.

We are not free unless we shed our dependence on powerful others who have only their own best interests at heart, and take our rightful place as individuals. We need each other we say, but not for reasons the powerful would have us believe. We need others who remind us that we are valued; that our dreams and hopes are worthwhile endeavors; that give us room to live and feel, and yes, even die with dignity; that we are perfect even in our imperfections; that we are mortal and yet magnificent in each breath we take, each tear we shed, each utterance of joy. And we are free only when we are fearless.

How is this possible? Well, you know…you do. It is today and you are here, breathing. There is this. A simple, single moment to savor. Is it enough? If you can answer “yes!” then you know true freedom and nobody can take that away.

Peace and kindness to you. Have a wonderful moment…have many!

Sunday’s Week in ReVerse – 25 February 2018

the sting of loss settling in
winter bones shimmer
more like hopeless
swelling in the mist,
it’s already old news…
but it’s a temporary fix,
it’s okay if you don’t want to admit it.
flag at half staff
the fog clears
amidst the cacophony
all honor is slain
I see you, alright?!
a songbird sings
a change is coming
the fall of an empire.
listening to the wind
there’s a hint
no one sees…
my heart knows
innocence cannot be restored
a face in the crowd

~kat

A ReVerse poem is a summary poem with a single line lifted from each entry of a collection of work over a particular timeframe and re-penned in chronological order as a new poem. Unlike a collaborative poem, the ReVerse features the words of one writer, providing a glimpse into their thoughts over time. I use it as a review of the previous week.

6 Comments   |  tags: , , , , | posted in Digital Art & Photos, Essays, Poetry, Random Thoughts and Musings, Reverse Poem, Shi Sai, Week in Review

February 24, 2018

Rasputin – Friday’s Word of the Day

By Kat Myrman

Friday’s Word of the Day at Dictionary.com is Rasputin. It is defined as

1. any person who exercises great but insidious influence;

2. named for Grigori Efimovich Rasputin, 1871 – 1916, a Siberian peasant monk who was very influential at the court of Czar Nicholas II and Czarina Alexandra.

Dictionary.com gives the following summary on the origin of this eponym (a word relating to, or being the person or thing for whom or which something is named: of, relating to.):

Grigori Efimovich Rasputin (c1871-1916) was a Russian peasant and self-proclaimed mystic and holy man (he had no official position in the Russian Orthodox Church). By 1904 Rasputin was popular among the high society of St. Petersburg, and in 1906 he became the healer of Alexei Nikolaevich Romanov, heir to the Russian throne and the hemophiliac son of Czar Nicholas II and his wife, Czarina Alexandra Feodorovna (a granddaughter of Queen Victoria and a carrier of hemophilia). In December 1916 Rasputin was murdered by Russian noblemen because of his influence over Czar Nicholas and the czarina.

Rasputin, I learned, is something of a legend. He was a towering man at 6’4”, believed to be a healer with clairvoyant powers. He had a wild appearance, that earned him the nickname, the “mad monk”. Though he was married and had a daughter and two sons, he earned notoriety as a philanderer and drunkard. Oddly his promiscuous behavior was, according to him, a religious practice. He believed that in order to be redeemed of sin, one must immerse oneself in it. Word of his orgies, that he called sessions of “rejoicing”, spread, much to the displeasure of the Orthodox Church. Despite his horrible hygiene, he had plenty of willing partners and hundreds of followers who called themselves “Rasputinkis.”

Eventually his wild living caught up with him. Several attempts were made on his life. The first was made by a masked woman who stabbed his abdomen so violently his entrails spilled out. The intervention of a surgeon saved him that time.

He would eventually meet his end but, as his murderer would learn, Rasputin was not an easy man to kill. On a single night, he was poisoned, which only seemed to give him a buzz, shot four times, with one bullet directly to his head, followed by a severe bludgeoning and finally he was bound and tossed into a frozen river. An autopsy later showed that he died from drowning and hypothermia, even after being poisoned, shot, beaten and, some believe, castrated. His pickled member was supposedly displayed throughout the region, a relic of sorts, said to have properties that could cure men of impotence.

Everything about Rasputin was larger than life. But it was his sinister control over the Romanoffs that eventually led to his demise and soon after, the fall of an empire.

Today we use the word Rasputin to describe someone who has evil influence over someone in power. I can think of a few examples…

Frankenstein’s Igor,
Bush’s Cheney, Trump’s Bannon,
ruthless Rasputins

~kat

7 Comments   |  tags: , , , , | posted in Essays, Haiku, Poetry, Random Thoughts and Musings, Word of the Day Haiku

February 21, 2018

House as Self – Sunday Writing Challenge

By Kat Myrman

You never know when you might need that 3-inch lug-nut wrench that came with the baby gate I had when my kids were toddling.

“How old are my kids?” you ask.

Well, if you must know, they have children of their own now. All the more reason to hang onto that little tool. Never know when they might need it.

“And the keys?” you ask, “What are they for?”

Well, that black one? That was from my first apartment. Great place that was. Just a block away from downtown. Loved that place. And that tiny one? My very first diary. I still have it…somewhere…I think. The others? I’m not sure. But someone knows. So I keep them around, just in case.

I know what you’re thinking. You’re thinking that all of this junk is useless. But I’ll have you know that I’m the first one everyone comes to when they need tape, a pen, a battery or a rubber-band. I can be counted on for a paper clip in a pinch, or a bandaid or one of those adapter thingies that you use to plug a three-pronged plug into a two-pronged outlet.

Junk you say? I know, and you do too, that you would be lost without me, but it’s okay if you don’t want to admit it. You know I’ll always be here if you need me. Remember that next time you need a twist-tie.

~kat

For MindLoveMiserysMenagerie Sunday Writing Prompt:”House as Self”. They say you can tell a lot about a person by the parts of a house that they are drawn to. I find myself reflected not in a particular room or space, but a drawer…a junk drawer to be exact. You know you love me…😉

14 Comments   |  tags: , , , , , | posted in Challenges and Writing Prompts, Digital Art & Photos, Essays, Random Thoughts and Musings

February 18, 2018

Sunday’s Week in ReVerse -18 February 2018

By Kat Myrman

So, rough week here in the States. Inconceivable loss for several families on a day that started like any other. The sun rose in the east, wisps of clouds streamed across a crisp blue sky, and I’ve no doubt there was happy birdsong sweetening the breeze wherever people happened to be. It was an ordinary day that flipped into a nightmare at the hands of a disturbed, angry, young man, left behind by the dwindling resources of our top heavy nation.

By evening the horrible facts started to trickle in…17 dead, many wounded; and with it, regret for words unsaid in the rush of the morning, dreams cut short, trauma inflicted, survivors made. Adding salt to fresh wounds was a litany of vapid talking points from our leaders, “thoughts and prayers for this tragedy that our children should never suffer…” but it’s “too soon…too soon to talk about” regulating our homegrown militia of angry white men. It was, of course, as it always is, about mental health, punctuated by a victim-shaming lecture, against those who witnessed the festering insanity of the shooter and said nothing, even though they did say something, we learned, to law enforcement who regretfully missed the gravity of this impending doom. But it wasn’t guns, it’s never guns that caused this latest slaughter of our greatest treasure. With a nod to the NRA, a gun show opened shop a county away from the shuttered crime scene for what would be a banner weekend of arming the fearful with weapons of war.

By Friday, Congress recessed early, the president went golfing, and another news cycle shifted the focus of our attention to porn stars with stained dresses, playboy bunnies, Russian Bots, cyber attacks, justice on the cusp and a “no collusion, but it is Obama’s fault” mantra of vindication spewing from 45’s vile mouth. He finished the week by grinning, “thumbs up” in a photo op with the medical teams who were charged with patching our battered youth together to face another ordinary, possibly horrible day.

We’ve had too many weeks like this. Except…this time feels different. This time feels angry and raw and perhaps even hopeful. The curtain has been ripped back revealing those whose pockets are lined with blood money, calling them to account for their complicity and cowardice. This time there is a force rising, armed with the fiercest of weapons…truth. And though they are young, they are legion; older and wiser than their 5-6 year old contemporaries whose memories still haunt us. This same generation has found its voice and will soon be old enough to vote. A storm is coming with its thunderous cry…”Enough!” This gives me hope even as I grieve.

It’s been a rough week, but I want to leave you with this: Be gentle with yourself. Say I love you often. Breath deliberately, slowly in, then out, and savor each moment as best you can. None of us are promised tomorrow. All the more reason to seize the day. Peace.

Sunday’s Week in ReVerse -18 February 2018

giving a damn often leads to losing one’s shit
a sweaty blob in a puddle of drool
it’s sometimes a symptom
the honey-soaked earth glimmering…
you were meant to fly
Do you have a minute?
a trio of cowbirds perch aloft, screaming
high above a flat earth…cows
should be an easy choice
sweet
silence
it takes empathy
life is a mere blip
harmonic dissonance
that’s a lot of love
only a breath lingers
charmed by the sun
and the gaslight flickers to black

~kat

A ReVerse poem is a summary poem with a single line lifted from each entry of a collection of work over a particular timeframe and re-penned in chronological order as a new poem. Unlike a collaborative poem, the ReVerse features the words of one writer, providing a glimpse into their thoughts over time. I use it as a review of the previous week.

9 Comments   |  tags: , , , , , , | posted in Digital Art & Photos, Essays, Poetry, Random Thoughts and Musings, Reverse Poem, Shi Sai

February 16, 2018

Messan – Friday’s Word of the Day

By Kat Myrman

Today’s Word of the day at Dictionary.com is Messan.

Its definition from the Dictionary of the Scots Language states that a messan is…
1. A small pet dog or house dog, as opposed to a dog used for some form of work, a lap-dog 
2. (a word) used contemptuously: a mongrel, a cur 
3. A term of contempt applied to human adults signifying lack of stature or dignity; or to a child.

Dictionary.com tells us that, The English noun messan “small dog, lap dog” comes from Scots Gaelic measan “small dog,” cognate with Irish Gaelic measán, both of which are diminutives of Gaelic mess “favored (one).” Messan entered English in the late 15th century.

It’s not a word that is used often, and I couldn’t find a lot of additional info online. It is a timely word, nonetheless, for today’s celebration of Chinese New Year and the beginning of the Year of the Earth Dog. Happy New Year!

I also learned that messan is a valid Scrabble word, so if you are a game board enthusiast, keep this one in your brain vault of useful words. According to Merriam-Webster 59 playable words can be unscrambled from this gem that has a letter value of 8 points.

Of course, before I close I must admit that I have a few messans of my very own, though they do not fit the physical description as defined. Still, they think they are messans and I have a few bruises to show for it! I was able to find an obscure dictionary reference (Century Dictionary and Cyclopedia: Including Atlas of the World …, Volume 5) that actually mentioned ‘mastiffs’ in the definition. So perhaps there is an instinctual reason why my big lugs find my lap so appealing!

Have a great weekend! 😊

messan-dogs find laps
their favorite place to be
that’s a lot of love

~kat

13 Comments   |  tags: , , , , , | posted in Digital Art & Photos, Essays, Haiku, Poetry, Random Thoughts and Musings, Word of the Day Haiku