At the beginning on this course, when I first found out that we'd be submitting a piece of writing for publication, I grew really nervous. I've always enjoyed writing and have always wanted to be a published writer, but didn't think I'd submit something so soon. Now, having done it, I'm excited to continue writing and continue submitting my work to various publication outlets. Instead of submitting an article for publication, I ended up submitting a poem I wrote two weeks ago about a very emotional occurance within my work environment that emotionally crushed a lot of people.
This class reawakened my writer within, and I'm excited to continue moving forward with my writing. I hope to write a natural healing and/or holistic nutrition book some day, but I'd also like to get a lot of my creative writing published as well.
Sunday, November 18, 2012
Tuesday, November 6, 2012
For some, life is but a dreadful battle amongst the living
An unenjoyable task to live the day to day life of pretending
A crying soul, unheard
Drowned out by our own commotion
Had she seen a flower, her fate may have been different
Instead, robbing herself of her life is what she chose
Fallen leaves lay upon her, a sad soul set free
Now only a memory, need remember, you are never alone
An unenjoyable task to live the day to day life of pretending
A crying soul, unheard
Drowned out by our own commotion
Had she seen a flower, her fate may have been different
Instead, robbing herself of her life is what she chose
Fallen leaves lay upon her, a sad soul set free
Now only a memory, need remember, you are never alone
Monday, November 5, 2012
A Compilation of Thoughts
I don't know what to write. I don't know what to write. I don't know what to write. My mind is blank. I can't think of what to write. My brain thinks too much when trying to fill these empty, white lines. No words are good enough for the paper or for this assignment. I'm too hard on myself when it comes to my writing. I need to quiet my mind and let my pen do the task of writing, rather than my brain. There's plenty of time to go back and recreate what was written. Why is this such a struggle? I want to let them all out somehow. I'm tired of listening to these thoughts screaming while they're drowning inside my heart. I've always liked writing, so why can't I let myself just write? Instead, I have to think about every single word being written. It's a blank slate. Fill it with whatever I want. I don't know what else to write. The timer is still counting down. I'm having a battle with myself. I need to meditate and do yoga again, like I used to. Maybe that'll help with my writing. I'll be more relaxed and just let my thoughts flow and pour out of me, rather than overthinking it. Three, two, one...
Sunday, November 4, 2012
NEWS RELEASE
For more information contact:
Dana Marsh
The Prajna Center
1109 Main St, Suite 329
Boise, ID 83702
boisesangh@gmail.com
Gather for Meditation
am - 12:30 pm and on Tuesdays, at 7:00 pm - 8:00 pm, Meditation and Dharma Talk will be hosted by Dana Marsh. Gatherers will meditate together for twenty minutes, then follow with tea and conversation for ten minutes. On Mondays and Thursdays, at 6:00 pm - 7:00 pm, Heart of the Dharma will host Simply Meditation. All will sit together and open their souls to the divine. If you need to leave early or don’t want to stay as long, you can quietly leave at any time.
Anyone is welcome to join, whether you’re a beginner or a long time practitioner. Heart of the Dharma offers teachings and meditation to assist others in overcoming suffering and living a life of peace. Dana is the teacher for the Heart of the Dharma, and has 25 years of teaching experience. She’s also spent many years meditating and studying the dharma.
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Tuesday, October 30, 2012
Health and Apple Cider Vinegar
Pectin - helps reduce blood pressure and bad cholesterol
Malic Acid - antiviral, antibacterial, and antifungal
Calcium - helps create strong bones and teeth
Ash - an alkaline property, which aids the body in maintaining proper pH levels
Monday, October 29, 2012
Words
My source of inspiration differs between my daily life and my writing. My smiling daughter, my bright future, my dreams and my goals are what get me through my hellish days at work, listening to my boss drone on about nonsense, and dealing with my daughter's father who was once my beloved man, but is no longer. They're what keep me on my path toward success and happiness rather than lingering through a dark forest.
Writing, on the other hand, comes from a different source, releasing itself elsewhere from within me. My love is a beautiful writer. His work, his words, inspire me to release my thoughts and emotions as they are guided through my fingertips, crawl through the pen, and melt onto the paper. When I borrow his eyes, I see my true ability to free myself from myself, into the paper, and out of my soul.
Though he allures me with each word he writes, his inspiring me is not what creates what you see of mine. My own writing creeps through a place buried deep within my soul, a place absent of light, a place of solitude.
Words are trapped inside my heart, pushing against my chest, feeling as if I can't breathe. My thoughts keep them hidden inside of me, because my words aren't good enough for the paper, or even for me. Screaming for freedom, unable to breathe, drowning deep in my soul, they'll hopefully, one day, be set free.
Writing, on the other hand, comes from a different source, releasing itself elsewhere from within me. My love is a beautiful writer. His work, his words, inspire me to release my thoughts and emotions as they are guided through my fingertips, crawl through the pen, and melt onto the paper. When I borrow his eyes, I see my true ability to free myself from myself, into the paper, and out of my soul.
Though he allures me with each word he writes, his inspiring me is not what creates what you see of mine. My own writing creeps through a place buried deep within my soul, a place absent of light, a place of solitude.
Words are trapped inside my heart, pushing against my chest, feeling as if I can't breathe. My thoughts keep them hidden inside of me, because my words aren't good enough for the paper, or even for me. Screaming for freedom, unable to breathe, drowning deep in my soul, they'll hopefully, one day, be set free.
Sunday, October 21, 2012
Lonely and Flora
As I sit here atop this shelf, watching everyone filter in and out of this bright, fluorescent-filled room, I can't help but wonder what it would be like to escape. How I wish I could return to my native homeland to be with those that truly cared. We all helped each other survive. No one here seems to care if I live or die. I'm just a dusty, old plant. No sunlight, no soil massaging my tired roots. I hope nobody can see my once-beautiful-green leaves drooping; I'm supposed to look pretty and add life to the room. Only the opposite of life is radiating from my roots.
I miss Cash. I had fun with him. He loved me. He used to nestle his fins between my roots and envelope himself within me while he slept. She took him somewhere - took him away from me, my only friend. I tried to help him get better. It wasn't my fault he got sick, was it? I'm sorry, Cash, my fishy friend. I hope you're okay, wherever you disappeared to . I hope you're being taken care of. I guess I wasn't good enough, just like I'm not good enough for this dungeon-of-a-room.
She gave me fresh water today. That was nice. Maybe she does care after all, who knows. It helped my posture; I'm standing taller.
I wonder what that other one thinks of this place, of these people - these people who don't seem to care about life outside this room. Bamboo, I think her name is. She's much more beautiful than I am, with her heart-shaped body and ceramic elephant stand. She gets more attention than me; she probably likes it here. Surrounded by her beauty, I turn away, hoping she doesn't notice my nearly lifeless petals.
"Hey, you," I motioned, waving my leaves ever so slightly as if there were a breeze in this windowless room, trying to get her attention. I want to tell her, the girl-who's-boss-hates-her, to go, escape this room, escape these people, escape this place, otherwise she'll end up like me - alone, trying to scream for freedom, but no one seems to hear. Time is escaping both of us; she needs to get out. And, when she goes, I hope she takes me with her.
I miss Cash. I had fun with him. He loved me. He used to nestle his fins between my roots and envelope himself within me while he slept. She took him somewhere - took him away from me, my only friend. I tried to help him get better. It wasn't my fault he got sick, was it? I'm sorry, Cash, my fishy friend. I hope you're okay, wherever you disappeared to . I hope you're being taken care of. I guess I wasn't good enough, just like I'm not good enough for this dungeon-of-a-room.
She gave me fresh water today. That was nice. Maybe she does care after all, who knows. It helped my posture; I'm standing taller.
I wonder what that other one thinks of this place, of these people - these people who don't seem to care about life outside this room. Bamboo, I think her name is. She's much more beautiful than I am, with her heart-shaped body and ceramic elephant stand. She gets more attention than me; she probably likes it here. Surrounded by her beauty, I turn away, hoping she doesn't notice my nearly lifeless petals.
"Hey, you," I motioned, waving my leaves ever so slightly as if there were a breeze in this windowless room, trying to get her attention. I want to tell her, the girl-who's-boss-hates-her, to go, escape this room, escape these people, escape this place, otherwise she'll end up like me - alone, trying to scream for freedom, but no one seems to hear. Time is escaping both of us; she needs to get out. And, when she goes, I hope she takes me with her.
About Lindsay...
Lindsay Kolpitcke is a nutritional coach and hypnotherapist. Following her passion for holistic healing, she decided to pursue an education, and eventually a career, as a transformational healer.
Studying remedies, such as holistic nutritional therapy, hypnotherapy, aromatherapy, and life coaching, Lindsay has gained a diverse background in the field of holistic medicine. Her goal is to act as a tool in others' transformational journeys to create balance and live a life full of complete physical, mental, and social well-being.
Lindsay resides in Boise, Idaho with her four-year-old daughter, Melanie.
Studying remedies, such as holistic nutritional therapy, hypnotherapy, aromatherapy, and life coaching, Lindsay has gained a diverse background in the field of holistic medicine. Her goal is to act as a tool in others' transformational journeys to create balance and live a life full of complete physical, mental, and social well-being.
Lindsay resides in Boise, Idaho with her four-year-old daughter, Melanie.
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