Day to day, every day, we are accosted by words.

Look around. Everywhere our landscape is dotted with slogans, catch phrases, deals and appeals for our time, attention, and money.

Advertising is everywhere and cannot be avoided. Signs. Everywhere. Words from someone else selling, or telling us, what we need, what to believe, and how or when we can see it.

It goes well past products or prestige, and the message is not always clear, but it clutters any and all vacant space within our sight lines.

You get the message.

There is no escape. You can’t help but see the billboard blocking the sunset, larger-than-life banners flapping on the edge of the high-rise, day-bright neon, or lawns signs at election time emphasizing one bad choice over another.

How do you respond to the words? Do you try the new service, or buy what they are selling? Do you stop and take a further look? The truth always telling.

It is nothing new; I can’t remember when it was. It’s the same ol’, same ol’. Brand names may rotate, or the colour or style shifts in another direction, but with all the changes, it is still the same.

It could be handwritten or professionally crafted, and size does not matter, it speaks in our language. We all use words to communicate. We cannot survive without words. We read words whether we like to are not. They are always there.

Perhaps now it has become even more obvious as it has spread further into our virtual reality. We are constantly bombarded with messages each time you click or swipe on the mobile device to get to the information you want and need, our chosen apps held hostage or interrupted with pop ups.

It is a newer format, yes, but it follows the same old premise. The ads, the signs, telling us what we may or may not want, appealing to your hunger(s), or vices, insecurities, or greed.

We respond.

It works the same way a poster for Kool-Aid will distract you on a hot summer’s day. If you’ve got the thirst, you will likely buy. Sometimes you might be looking to repair something, or the best price on something you don’t really need.

Words: they temp you, they taunt you, they upset you and haunt you. The words catch your eye and, as consumers at heart, we look and we buy.

“Sign, sign, everywhere a sign
Blockin’ out the scenery, breakin’ my mind
Do this, don’t do that, can’t you read the sign?”
                                                      -Les Emerson

by Deb Stidham Avery

My dear, you are a most brave, kind and awesome being.

When your mother threw away the little bunch of wildflowers you picked for her, stating that they were only weeds, it was only because she failed to see their worth.

When others laughed at you, and still do, for your deep love of all beings, it was because they were not capable of seeing the beauty and intelligence in all things.

When your husband belittled and controlled it was because he did not appreciate your true worth, the intricacies of your beautiful mind, or the beauty and depth of your heart.

It’s never about you, my dear. It’s always been about them.

Each time someone says or does something hurtful, remember that.

It is not about you, your intelligence, your worth and your compassionate heart. Instead, it is always about them.

It’s about all the times they were hurt, ridiculed or neglected. It’s about all the past hurts in their lives that caused them to close their hearts and minds. It’s not about you and your openness, your deep empathy and your ability to see all sides of the situation.

Instead of armoring your heart and mind, you chose to open them to the pain and heartaches and the interconnectedness of all that is around you. That, my dear, takes courage, trust, and lots of love and compassion.

Don’t you dare let the words, thoughts and actions of others cause you a moment’s pain. You know better than this. You’ve spent your whole life learning that we all travel through life with different levels of consciousness. And you know that this is just how life works.

It has nothing to do with you, my dear, and everything to do with them; their perceptions and the experiences that have shaped their lives.

Love and forgive them because of what you have learned. They have traveled a different pathway. They have experienced life differently from you.

Now, dry your tears and always remember these two things.

You are a beautiful, intelligent and loving being.

And it’s never about you, dear heart, and always about them.

©2018 Deb Stidham Avery
Deb Stidham Avery lives in a small rural community in the South with her best friend Sam, the dog. She is often found walking in the woodlands, gardening, reading, listening to music and writing. It has been through her writing that she has found healing, hope and grace. She hopes that by sharing her experiences and insights with others, in hopes that they too may find peace, acceptance and help in dealing with the problems and traumas that life can sometimes deal us all. She currently writes for The Tattooed Buddha and has written for Sivana, Wake Magazine and elephant journal.

by Carolyn Riker

I believe
if this were a different lifetime,
we’d be more than passing
as midnight fireflies.
 
I see this in the corner of
your eyes; such smiles rub
my wild and yet your tease
eliminates my needs when
you feel uncomfortable
you reinstate your prestige.
 
We dance over the obvious.
Too shy to say why.
It’s touched a note deep inside
of how often I’m seen
as if invisible.
 
You know it hurts
how much unsaid
is spoken in all the ways
you try to hide
but still, it shows,
I’m just another token.
 
You aren’t the first
but you are the last
because I finally know
my worth is what needs
to be spoken.

©2018 Carolyn Riker

Photography by Abena Buahene

Carolyn (Riker) Avalani is a licensed counselor, teacher, writer and poet. A frequent contributor to numerous online journals and anthologies, her first book of poetry and prose Blue Clouds  was published December 2016.
Between sips of coffee, navigating life with copious writing and daydreaming, Carolyn offers creative writing workshops, coaching and private counseling. To find out more please visit www.carolynriker.com

by Jennifer Hillman

Wisdom through words.
Some advice I would give to anyone…of any age.
Observe, listen, and share.
I learned for observing many wise elderly and the young innocence.
With this, I collected and smiled with these steps to living.

Quiet the Mind. . .
be with the Silence
and simply listen to your heart…
follow the whispers of your truths
be bold and embrace the magic
while expanding your brilliance
in every moment,
with every breath.

Live large through creativity
share tender moments of laughter
express yourself
while you forgive often…
yourself and others.

Love Always.

Be true to you by being the uniqueness of all you be.
Trust. Love. Be. Love’s Truths.

©2018 Jennifer Hillman

Jennifer Hillman is an intuitive life coach, published writer and poet, host of Abstract Illusions Radio podcasts. Her site is  JenniferHillman.com  and she is available for coaching sessions. Her books are available on her site and Amazon.com.

It was never for the night, but only
for the summer.     My seventeenth
summer. Never would I say it shouldn’t
have happened, because it did.
You with a past
I would certainly become a part of,
and I collecting stories.   An identity.
At seventeen. You took a part of that;
of all, or whatever, went forward.
What I have become.
Bones are formed through experience,
shaping us emotionally, physically, and
psychologically.           Down to the soul.
You were there.    There I was,
not knowing what to expect, and you
expecting nothing but honesty.
I didn’t question your motives, nor did I
question mine. Age was not important,
you said, nor was intent.
There was a difference.
Seventeen years. but only one summer.
July heat, the scent of patchouli,
sandalwood and #5. Intoxicating.
I tasted the moon on your breath,
and witnessed the clouds in your eyes.
A sullen anger, a hurt from before, and
your impatient need to get over
the emotions.    You talked about it.
I could only listen, or try, to understand.
At seventeen I could not know.
Yet.   I would learn.   Eventually.
In times of give and of take, we took
consciously. Each of us. Never a moment
of mixing the beginning up with the end.
We knew.    I wouldn’t ask;
at seventeen you don’t.    Of course,
I remember fireflies, the music, touch,
and the sense and secrets we rarely
acknowledged.   Not enough time.   Only
one summer.      It was close, something
I had never had before, but it was not
friendship. A friend you would see again.
Not only for a summer.

©2018 j.g. lewis

“It isn’t all it seems
at seventeen”
-Janis Ian