Looking back on a lot of these old posts, I see that I wrote to impress.
I hope I never write to impress again.
Looking back on a lot of these old posts, I see that I wrote to impress.
I hope I never write to impress again.
A mere short story written by yours truly.
This story begins like most others stories with a plain and simple Once upon a time. But what many do not know is that she was far from plain and simple. She was a lovely and demure young lady about seventeen growing up in Scotland. It happened upon this certain young lady on a late night that the window in her bedroom remained open.
Once upon a time, long ago, the open window let in the breeze of the late night through the tall tree next to her bedroom. Through that window in the still dark night crept a man no older than twenty into her room.
“Louisa, Louisa come to me,” said the young man in a quiet, stolid tone.
She was still groggy, unresponsive, and laconic, for this boy had woken her t this ungodly hour. For one reason or another, perhaps and most likely her tiredness; our young girl remained un-obdurate to the young man escorting her down the tree. In a bleary and somewhat unsettling moment she was on horseback with the young man (who she chose to call Edward, for she thought the name suited him well.) She decided not to be coquette to the boy, and just rode along with him through a vast, dew covered valley in complete silence.
Suddenly they were surrounded by hundreds of men all clad in heavy armor. What was she to do? Why was she riding here in the night rather than sleeping soundly in her bead? These questions and more loomed in her head, but rather than think, at that moment she decided to take action. Her young escort had been injured and was precariously draped across the horse, unresponsive and unconscious. She sat him upright and took the reins. Sweet and quiet Louisa had never ridden a horse before in her short lifetime, but for some unknown and mysterious reason she controlled the horse with utmost precision. She could think of nothing else but to escape the evil men. She looked for a gap amongst the crowd of faceless knights and weaved her horse between them just before a spear was thrown at her head. She began to gallop, faster, harder, she had to get away. She did not look back to the dark knights but rather, she focused on what was in front of her. She pushed the jet black horse until she felt as if no other animal could run as fast as her horse, it ran, and then it ran faster, quicker, and harder until she felt as if she were flying. She was flying. She realized that the ground had disappeared under her steed and they were flying high above the clouds, away from their captors. She could not believe the beauty and serenity of life above the clouds. The faintest hints of sunlight shown around the young man and Louisa and she felt the loveliest of breezes caress her soft skin. Before she cold fully finish reveling in the beauty of her flight, the steed touched down next to what appeared to be an inn built of pine trees. Louisa was shocked that of all the places her animal could have landed, it landed at a place where her mysterious young man could receive help and aid. She decided not to question the situation and pulled him inside. The inside of the inn appeared to be more like the out-of-doors than where she had just come from. A fire the size of Louisa’s house blazed brightly in a corner of the vast room. She looked about in awe over the woodland room, but her fascination was quickly interrupted by a little man, no taller than a young rabbit who pulled on the hem of her dress as he asked her what had happened.
“Oh this young chap needs to be mended for sure,” he mumbled to himself, “Oh this looks bad, quite bad indeed.”
His fingers peeled back the boys’ shirt to reveal a nasty stomach wound.
“Nothing would heal this boy except the blood of the one who rescued him… that’d be you lass.”
She was dumbfounded, when and where would someone’s blood help someone who was injured? Louisa became quite confused with her situation, yet should felt a terrible nag in her stomach; she knew she needed to help him, no matter what took from herself and her life.
“Do what you need to do; just get it over with as quickly as you can.” She said with a tremble in her voice.
As the leprechaun-like man drew his knife to cut her neck, a tiny bottle of what appeared to be water fell out of her coat pocket.
“Blimey! Why didn’t ya’ tell me you had Wellcapria potion?” He exclaimed rather garrulously. “This’ll cure an’thing. It’s the most powerful and rare substance in our world! Ya’ shoulda told me ‘bout it lass.”
Louisa remained in a state of confusion and simply watched the little man pour the solution over the wound; it quickly healed right before her eyes.
“That was a very noble and magnanimous deed, lass. Yeh’ were willing to give up yur life for a stranger, that that’s the bravest thing I think I’ve eva’ seen a body do, ‘twas quite assiduous of you.”
Edward regained consciousness and thanked her for saving his life. They walked about outside in the thick forest for a long while until he said that he had to go. He thanked her for the night ride, and while her back was turned, he vanished into the cool night breeze.
She stood there, in the peaceful woods, relishing the adventurous night and the particularly nice wind. Soon, the breeze became so strong that it stirred her from her stupor. Abruptly she was back in her room, the refreshing breeze reminding her of her nighttime adventure. It had all been a dream.
Tender affection, longing, giving of one’s self for the sole good of another, this is love. Love most closely resembles a fever. Love takes over thoughts and actions causing the victim to give into the symptoms. Love, like a fever if not monitored properly can quickly take over a whole person.
William Shakespeare in his one hundred forty seventh sonnet describes love as a sickness, “My love is as a fever, longing still for that which longer nurseth the disease; Feeding on that which doth preserve the ill, the uncertain sickly appetite to please. My reason, the physician to my love, Angry that his prescriptions are not kept, Hath left me, and I desperate now approve, Desire his death, which physic did except. Past cure I am.”
Love reaches into the depths of the human heart and stirs up a great many emotions that were previously thought to be non- existent. A fever affects the body, changing it and making it weaker, but it also builds up a stronger immune system for the future. Love while it may not always be comfortable cause people to learn a great deal about who they are as a person. The human heart regarding love can be quite picky and difficult to please; it can be relentless thinking only of itself. A fever does this as well, the germs invade using the body to their own good- they are selfish. The phrase “love is blind” is true in that when someone loves another, their whole heart becomes fully devoted to the lover regardless of the persons physical appearance. Love as well as a physical fever, takes time to recover from. Lost love leaves a sick and empty feeling in the heart, just as a fever does to the body. True love, unlike a fever can never be forgotten it is cherished. Love being the completely and absolutely consuming is very much like a fever, because once infected it becomes unavoidable.
Books- so rich and complicated in their nature bring excitement and intrigue to the senses. One day a book takes its reader on an adventure to a previously undiscovered way of life and the next it transports to a world of undiscovered history. Books shape the world as it is known. There are many styles of books written. The forgotten, obscure and often taken for granted style of books, the contemporary mainstream books, embraced on the common ground of popularity, and the treasured classics those that will remain in the heart of the readers for years to come. Books, no matter their genre, popularity or age have affected the lives of readers for centuries and every single person should count the ability to read a very important responsibility and privilege.
Society frequently accepts mainstream books because of their popularity. These books are quite often mentioned as one’s favorite book because that reader has no better grasp of truly greater books, and because he did not take the time to such for and read them. They are unlike the obscure books or the classic ones, in that they are quite easy to read and frequently bring an uplifting message at the end of the sadly predictable tale. Books such as The Hunger Games, Twilight, and The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo are all examples of conventional fiction. These stories, though possessing many fine qualities; frequently fail to make it as a classic because of their typical plots, predictable endings and weak messages.
Classic books are the stories that have stood the test of time. These books are not embraced for their cushy storyline or the absolute sterile perfection of writing style. These books are precious because they express the human spirit at its most vulnerable. They often tell what is hard to express for nearly every person, including the writer. Because of the writers unique gift, he unknowingly penned a masterpiece which would cause many to question their thoughts and beliefs due to the message of his story. Stories such as The Great Gatsby, A Journey To the Center of the Earth and, Gone With the Wind, though long since published give the feeling of community through well told stories, detail and undying emotion.
There are some stories written that truly touch the reader, not on a level that may not be recognizable to many, simply because many have not had the pleasure of reading them. These are the obscure titles, the independent book seller in the back of a coffee shop- the ones that are the most hard to find. Though these books are often unrecognizable in the sea of so many stories begging for our attention, they are worth the reader’s time. The writer wrote it in hope that he could possibly inspire one or two readers to see his point of view on the world. The realization that his book will most probably will not be a New York Times bestseller of an independent writer and therefore an independent book can touch the reader on a very deep level because the reader realizes that he is of a select few privileged to read this story.
The gift of reading should be treasured and used often. No matter the genre, size or reading level of a book, a good writer wants to cause the reader to feel the emotions he felt. Books should be viewed as a window into the heart of one who expresses his thoughts on the world and what goes on in it. Despite a books appearance or reviews, the lessons and memories gained from the reading of a book will be treasured forever.
Does music really impact the way someone thinks or acts? How has music changed lives throughout history? Some people may say that music is just a choice made during a day, one that does not have any long term impact on a way someone lives, but this is not true. Music is an integral part of all people’s lives and thought life. It affects attitudes, emotions, and opinions.
The importance of music is seen even in the ancient times where references of music and instruments are seen in the Bible. Music is used to calm the mind of King Saul in “1 Samuel 16:23, It came to pass, when the evil spirit from God was upon Saul, that David took an harp, and played with his hand: so Saul was refreshed, and was well, and the evil spirit departed from him.” Early instruments such as the harp, lyre, flute, and the human voice, God used to glorify himself and to ease the minds of his people. Such as “Psalm 40:3, He hath put a new song in my mouth, even praise unto our God: many shall see it, and fear, and shall trust in the Lord.”
The affect music had on a person’s mind in Biblical times had a deep impact that impact still exists today. When studied on a scientific level, different types of sounds and instruments cause the brain to feel a variety of emotions. The repeated sound (such as a beat or tempo in music) indicates living things to the brain, making the given sound interesting and stimulating.
A song heard from a person’s past causes the brain to fire neurons that give the feeling of nostalgia and even melancholy. This is why when a person hears a song sung in a passionate, sad, happy or any emotive tone, the person bears the anguish or elation of the singer.
The brains enjoyment of music is no more heightened then when a song is shared with others. People find common ground through music. It helps them to relate to one another. Aldous Huxley said, “After silence, that which comes closest to expressing the inexpressible is music.” A group of people could have supposedly nothing in common, discover that they mutually enjoy an artist or song and then have many things to discuss because of what the song expressed to them. Frequently, the message of a song can drive someone to better or change themselves. The words, “T’was Grace that taught my heart to fear, and Grace, my fears relieved. How precious did that Grace appear, the hour I first believed,” cause many hearts to give thanks to the one who forgave their sins. Because of these responses to music, it is easy to see what a person values and how they change through the types of music they enjoy and share. Man’s common ground through music is a pivotal way in which humans relate.
Because of the way humans interact through song, many are concerned with the future of music. Many believe that the auto tuned pop songs of today detracts away from what they believe is the purpose of music” to discover one’s feeling, to be real. Music for “mass production” or money usually cannot express the feeling of the heart because the musician was not focused on how the music would impact someone. Instead, the artist may be working for fame and a catchy tune. This usually causes the singer, and his popular song to fade into the forgotten racks of discounted albums after a couple years. When a singer uses his talent to
communicate the thoughts of the heart, and others feel the emotion in the song, then music as an art form is achieved. When someone can stop and experience the uplifting joy or heart wrenching sadness of a singer and actually feel the emotion themselves, the singer fulfills his purpose as a musician. A modern pop song can still be used to communicate one’s feelings, but because of typical, repetitive, auto-tuned songs, it is often difficult to perceive the thought behind the lyrics.
Though music has changed and grown through the years, the impact of a good song stays. Music is a large part of people’s lives and because of the purposeful expression and impactful lyrics enjoyment of music should not be tossed aside as just something done in a day. Music is personal, it helps people relate. It reaches beyond the boundaries of personal opinions and brings humans together. Despite the style of a song or personal preference, the genuine emotion behind a song has affected the hearts and minds of people for centuries.
The end of the tunnel could not be seen
what I need to do yet have not done
when will peace finally come
and save myself from me;
Lonely and waiting that was I
A tormented soul that could not explain,
Waiting for some way to escape the pain
the world has told a lie;
But then He came and found me
in my troubled state,
picked me up and saved
me from a doomed fate;
A life without Him would be hopeless
redeemed by the gospel, now my soul is safe
One day I will see the lord
and worship Him for His amazing grace.
I am quite unfamiliar with blogging, so bear with me, I will probably not post everyday,or every week for that matter; I am busy with life, but I am excited to begin sharing my thoughts.