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Quietly present

April 25, 2016

Hey, you.

Yeah…you.

What? Did you think I couldn’t see you?  Did you think I’d forgotten about you?  I know we used to talk a lot more, back in the days before I ran out of words.  But we didn’t stop existing when the words flew away.  We kept on breathing.  Our eyes still saw the world spin around.

Life marched on.  Sometimes it even danced on.  Life does that if we’ll let it.

You must wonder if the words are ever going to come back.  I wonder that, too.

I am surrounded by a sea of noise.  Some days it’s hard work to make sure the noise doesn’t invade me.  Truth be told, some days I fail.  But I have a very high value for the unshakeable calm that holds steady when the waves of sound begin crashing around me, assaulting my peace.  Sometimes it’s an expensive priority.

Right now it’s costing me words.

In the bible there’s a story of a man who was crippled, and every day he laid on his mat by a public bathing pool.  Sometimes the waters in the pool would mysteriously get stirred up, and when that happened it was said that an angel was stirring the waters, and the first person who got into them when they were all sloshy like that would get healed.  Except the man was crippled and slow, and so he was never able to be first.  But then one day Jesus dropped by the pool and noticed him.  And instead of scolding the man for not trying harder, Jesus skipped the whole get-in-the-pool part and just healed the man on the spot.  Told him to pick up his mat and go home. Which he did. You can bet that was a day life danced for that man.  Jesus showed up and did for him what he was unable to do for himself.*

I’m not sure why I’m telling you that, except perhaps to say that maybe my words need a dip in the pool, or maybe they just need Jesus to speak to them and heal whatever it is that makes them decide to stay away.  If He can heal lame legs, surely He can heal hiding words.

Anyway, I just wanted you to know that I haven’t forgotten you.  I see you.  You must never permit yourself to believe that my quietness means you have slipped from my sight or lost value in my heart.

Nothing could be further from the truth.

*The bible story of the crippled man can be found in the book of John, chapter 5.  It’s a good story.  You should check it out.

bonJOY: Spring box 2016

April 12, 2016

 

It's here!  It's here!  It's here!

It’s here! It’s here! It’s here!

It’s a ton of fun when a new bonJOY box arrives.  I don’t know what’s in it when I order it.  The surprise is part of the fun!  What I do know is that every item in it will be chosen because the person/company that produced it is invested in fighting global human trafficking or the exploitation of women.  The items are always of very nice quality, too, and they’re usually from brands new to me.  An added bonus with the Spring box is that bonJoy donated a dollar to A21 Campaign for every box sold, and purchasers had the opportunity to add their own extra donation.

Wanna see what was in the Spring 2016 box?  Of course you do.  That’s why you’re hanging around, wishing I’d shut up and get on with it!

Ooo!

Ooo!

The Happy begins the moment I open the box.  Happy colors, pretty wrapping.  Life gets livelier with beauty, you know?

This box contained several really awesome items.  Here’s the rundown:

-A beautiful pink and coral handcrafted tagua nut necklace from Tipharahs.  It’s surprisingly lightweight, and truly lovely.  Tipharahs is a platform for women who have been freed from trafficking or other kinds of abuse/exploitation to be able to make a sell their handmade goods and encourage others through the sharing of their stories.  Retail $20

-A Free To Bloom cotton pouch from The Tote Project.  Listen, you may think you don’t need a tote or a pouch, but if you go check out The Tote Project you may very well change your mind!  Cool stuff made from recycled saris and 100% organic cotton by women in a certified Fair Trade factory in India.  Retail $15.

-4Her fragrance by The THX Co.  Very nice scent; fresh, light, and pretty.  Kinda floral and citrusy and such.  The Sparkette has already absconded with the entire bottle.  I don’t even know how to explain this company, except the consumer gets to choose what cause their purchase supports, and the THX gives 100% of their profits.  Super cool.  You should check it out.  Retail $10+.

-Rose Sparkle lip gloss from My Sister.  Pretty, shimmery, nice for wearing alone or adding a pop of sparkle as a top coat to your regular lipstick.  My Sister gives portions of their profits to help free women and girls from a life of sexual exploitation.  Retail $7.50.

Ahh!

Ahh!

I seriously love bonJOY.  I really believe that consumers have a lot of power when it comes to social justice.  Our choices impact people who have no choice.

If you go to http://www.bonjoybox.com you will find several ways to get you own bonJOY box.  Not the same as this one, though.  Those are all gone.  But you can get a three-month subscription, or a box just for April, or a fun little Bitty Bundle.  And the Summer 2016 box will soon be for sale.  It will be kinda like the box I’ve described here, except with different stuff in it, so not really like the box I’ve described here other than the outside will probably be brown and there will probably be a festive yellow sticker on it.  But the Summer box will be $45 and you’ll get a good value for your money, and there will be awesomeness inside.  And you’ll be a do-gooder ordering a box from do-gooders who curate items from other do-gooders.

OH!  And if you order a box and you use the code LISAJOY when you check out, you’ll get $2 off the price of your box.  How awesome is that?!

IMG_3777

 

 

This is not an echo

April 2, 2016

A deep breath

and then another,

trembling from the power of

the burning in my chest,

caught in the vortex that

transcends heaven and earth

and time.

 

Words birthed in quiet

are released in a roar,

and my bones bear the marks

of a vibration that

is breathtakingly present and alive.

This is not an echo

nor is this a memory,

this is not about what has been said

but about what is still being spoken,

the choice bits of chronos

transformed and translated

into the treasures of eternity.

 

Fiercely…something

February 18, 2016

There is a vicious battle for the safety of this household tonight.  I can hear it waging in the next room.

I don’t know exactly when the outlet covers in the house turned against us.

Heck, I didn’t even know we had any outlet covers left around here.

But The Doctor knows.  Yes, Dr. Love knows!  And while we strongly suspect that cat’s never really  been to medical school, there is no denying that he is giving his all in the fight against the Outlet Covers Gone Rogue.

Observe the warrior in his natural habitat!  No, really.  He lurks under stuff a lot.  Weirdo.

Ignore the marks of ferocity all over the leg of the chair, please.

Ignore the marks of ferocity all over the leg of the chair, please.

I seriously don’t know where he found these rebellious little thingamabobs..  For years we’ve had no outlet covers, because no little kids, and now suddenly Doc is skittering them all over the place.

Perhaps they’re mutants.  Maybe this is what happens to dust bunnies that get too much radiation from the microwave.  They turn into outlet covers without a cause.

But no fear!  While it does sound dreadful, this business of being overrun with criminal gangs of outlet covers that come from nowhere (or maybe Mars or New Jersey or something), we can rest easy knowing Dr. Love has it all under control.  He will battle each and every outlet cover until it has been subdued…

…and then he will drown them.

Sleepin' wit da fishes...or maybe the occasional errant waterlogged kibble.

Sleepin’ wit da fishes…and maybe the occasional errant waterlogged kibble.

I would like to say there’s some sort of lesson in all this.  It is possible that it’s a sign and a wonder:

A sign that cat ain’t right in the head, and a wonder that we keep happily and voluntarily buying him food and scooping his poop.

 

The Perspective of the Reflector

February 16, 2016

I sat in the curve of the toenail moon,

my legs dangling over the inky blue and

my feet swinging to the rhythm of a tune

heard only in my head.

As I turned my gaze to the earth below,

I watched the darkness chase the light—

or was it the other way ’round?—

across its bulging belly,

playing hide-and-seek with time.

The lunar daisies nodded in the cello wind

as I swung a straddling leg over the thin blade

of the golden crescent,

settling back into its glowing chaise and

popping glittering stones of green cheese

into my laughing mouth.

 

Banked promises

February 13, 2016

I stared at the night sky

waiting for you,

waiting for the moon,

waiting for the stars,

listening to the mockingbird

taunt me with the cheerful songs

of midday warblers.

There were no fireworks

or meteors shooting across the horizon,

no flashing of inspiration

to brighten the inky darkness,

and although I wasn’t afraid,

a shiver ran up my spine

as I shifted in place,

sitting on a cliffside rock.

I’d memorized the note you’d left me

and I recited it to myself

every time I thought I might give up

and go inside where it was warm

and there was laughter and companionship

and a game on the television.

You said you’d come.

You said you’d come and

you’d bring me a jacket

and a canteen

and a treasure map for an adventure.

And so I waited in the damp air

of the wee hours,

my eyes growing sandy

and my stomach growling,

willing myself to stay awake

and listening for the sound

of your footsteps.

 

In the eye

February 7, 2016

She sat quietly

as the shouting swirled around her,

the syllables and decibels

skirmishing and clashing

in a cyclone of fearful words

hiding behind violence,

pretending to be angry.

Perhaps,

she thought,

if she sat very, very still,

nobody would notice her.

But her stillness

only served to incite the

panicked demands of fear.

What have you to say for yourself? 

it thundered,

the roar rattling her chest.

She turned a steady eye

to the storm and

realized that the hem of

her robe of peace was wide enough

for any seeking its shelter,

but far too small to suffocate

the enraged screams of a tempest

being terrorized by love.

 

 

 

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