Tuesday, September 30, 2008
Tuesday, September 23, 2008
R.I.P Dear Love Song
What happened to the love song?
Don't you remember a time when a song made you feel something that surpassed the mere physical aspect of relationships? Songs used to have the power to speak words unspoken. To express desires and emotion that couldn't be expressed any other way. Do you remember where you were when you first heard "Back at One?" I do. It was at a grade seven school dance. It was my first slow dance with a boy. Even though I knew him, and we were friends I was nervous, but I sang along with Brian McKnight. Even now, I can't hear the song without it resonating deeply.. See that? When was the last time a song did that to you?
There were songs that applied to our lives, songs we could relate to. Remember "Have you ever?" I know you do. And don't all of us have someone from our past or present that the song applies to? I know I do.
There were songs that were so saturated with raw emotion that if you found yourself in a similar situation could bring you nearly to tears... after my 1st break-up I couldn't even listen to "Missing You." (112).
The notion of the love song has become nearly extinct since the turn of the century. Booty and sex are all that we hear about. Remember when there was a difference between love and sex? Now a days its as if they've become synonymous. its sad. i miss the love song. the love song helped make me who i am today. the love helped shape me. but it seems now that the love song has died. so this is its eulogy... R.I.P dear love song, you will be missed.
Don't you remember a time when a song made you feel something that surpassed the mere physical aspect of relationships? Songs used to have the power to speak words unspoken. To express desires and emotion that couldn't be expressed any other way. Do you remember where you were when you first heard "Back at One?" I do. It was at a grade seven school dance. It was my first slow dance with a boy. Even though I knew him, and we were friends I was nervous, but I sang along with Brian McKnight. Even now, I can't hear the song without it resonating deeply.. See that? When was the last time a song did that to you?
There were songs that applied to our lives, songs we could relate to. Remember "Have you ever?" I know you do. And don't all of us have someone from our past or present that the song applies to? I know I do.
There were songs that were so saturated with raw emotion that if you found yourself in a similar situation could bring you nearly to tears... after my 1st break-up I couldn't even listen to "Missing You." (112).
The notion of the love song has become nearly extinct since the turn of the century. Booty and sex are all that we hear about. Remember when there was a difference between love and sex? Now a days its as if they've become synonymous. its sad. i miss the love song. the love song helped make me who i am today. the love helped shape me. but it seems now that the love song has died. so this is its eulogy... R.I.P dear love song, you will be missed.
The Pigeon and the Peacock
Once upon a time there was a Woman. She thought well of herself, held herself in high regard and in turn was able to think the same of others. She loved the people in her life deeply, and thought of them fondly. She laughed, cried, fell, and got up as we all do.
One day as she carried on with her life, and when she least expected it she caught the eye of two men. Not one, but two. She of course was flattered.
Man-number-one approached her directly, forcefully, and flirtatiously. He made poetic declarations of emotion, and eloquent descriptions of her beauty. He bought her gifts. He took her places. He was affectionate. He was romantic. He sought to sweep her off her feet. He wanted her all to himself. He made it his mission to be exactly what she wanted. She was bedazzled that such a man had found interest in her.
Man-number-two looked on as Man-number-one did all this and was crestfallen. He had no large sums of money. He had no flowery words. He had no exotic destinations. And though he longed to be romantic with the Woman his ideas of romantic gestures paled in comparison to Man-number-one's. So, he gave what he had. He walked her to class. He called her when she was sick. He worried about her. He prayed about her. He stayed up late nights talking to her about nothing and everything. He dreamed about her. He offered a listening ear. He offered a strong arm. He offered a tender heart. He told her things he told no one, all in an effort to have a connection with this Woman. He became her confidant. He became her friend.
One day, Man-number-two sat alone. He was deeply troubled. The Woman hadn't heard from him in a day or so and became worried. She sought him out.
"What's wrong?" She asked when she found him.
"Why are you here?" He replied. "Why aren't you with 'Him'?"
"I was worried about you."
He looked into her eyes and asked her a question that had troubled him for so long.
"Why do you worry yourself with me when you have Him? He gives you everything your heart could desire."
She was shocked at the question but the shock passed as she looked back at him, realizing the depths that the question had surfaced from. Her face softened and she replied.
"He is romantic, He is generous, He is public with his affections. He knows what to say. He knows what to do. He is what most women dream of." She paused. "Then there's you. You brought me soup because I was sick. You held my hand because I was scared. You dried my tears because I couldn't. You walked with me, because alone, I wouldn't. He sees my tears, You know the reason. He gave from his pocket, You gave from your soul. He used flowery words, You said it all without uttering a single one. He shows me what I want to see, You show me what I need to see. He shows affection, but You show me love. You listen. You understand. In your quietness I see you, not the pomp and circumstance but you. Your motives. Your desires."
He couldn't believe what he heard. He'd impressed her without being "impressive." He'd shown Her his worth without putting on a show. He'd given Her what she needed not to win Her over but because He'd been won over. He was the man she loved not because He gave what he had, but because he gave who He was. He bore His soul and She responded. He gave His love and She accepted. Not because He expected a reward but because He loved her too much to do otherwise. The Pigeon beat the Peacock.
One day as she carried on with her life, and when she least expected it she caught the eye of two men. Not one, but two. She of course was flattered.
Man-number-one approached her directly, forcefully, and flirtatiously. He made poetic declarations of emotion, and eloquent descriptions of her beauty. He bought her gifts. He took her places. He was affectionate. He was romantic. He sought to sweep her off her feet. He wanted her all to himself. He made it his mission to be exactly what she wanted. She was bedazzled that such a man had found interest in her.
Man-number-two looked on as Man-number-one did all this and was crestfallen. He had no large sums of money. He had no flowery words. He had no exotic destinations. And though he longed to be romantic with the Woman his ideas of romantic gestures paled in comparison to Man-number-one's. So, he gave what he had. He walked her to class. He called her when she was sick. He worried about her. He prayed about her. He stayed up late nights talking to her about nothing and everything. He dreamed about her. He offered a listening ear. He offered a strong arm. He offered a tender heart. He told her things he told no one, all in an effort to have a connection with this Woman. He became her confidant. He became her friend.
One day, Man-number-two sat alone. He was deeply troubled. The Woman hadn't heard from him in a day or so and became worried. She sought him out.
"What's wrong?" She asked when she found him.
"Why are you here?" He replied. "Why aren't you with 'Him'?"
"I was worried about you."
He looked into her eyes and asked her a question that had troubled him for so long.
"Why do you worry yourself with me when you have Him? He gives you everything your heart could desire."
She was shocked at the question but the shock passed as she looked back at him, realizing the depths that the question had surfaced from. Her face softened and she replied.
"He is romantic, He is generous, He is public with his affections. He knows what to say. He knows what to do. He is what most women dream of." She paused. "Then there's you. You brought me soup because I was sick. You held my hand because I was scared. You dried my tears because I couldn't. You walked with me, because alone, I wouldn't. He sees my tears, You know the reason. He gave from his pocket, You gave from your soul. He used flowery words, You said it all without uttering a single one. He shows me what I want to see, You show me what I need to see. He shows affection, but You show me love. You listen. You understand. In your quietness I see you, not the pomp and circumstance but you. Your motives. Your desires."
He couldn't believe what he heard. He'd impressed her without being "impressive." He'd shown Her his worth without putting on a show. He'd given Her what she needed not to win Her over but because He'd been won over. He was the man she loved not because He gave what he had, but because he gave who He was. He bore His soul and She responded. He gave His love and She accepted. Not because He expected a reward but because He loved her too much to do otherwise. The Pigeon beat the Peacock.
A Marriage
The joining of two souls. Becoming one flesh. These are the things that mark the sacred union of marriage. Only a few years ago when I was younger than I am now, I experienced such a union. This is the story of the courtship and marriage of pen and pad.
Each lived happily long before they met, for each had many uses before their love existed. They carried on blissfully unaware that they were both grossly incomplete. For you see when one is on their own, they are ignorant to their lack of wholeness. Just as one cannot miss a dessert without experiencing its taste, once cannot see their own state of unfinishedness without finding their other half. So, on they went, each on their separate ways. The pen doing the writing and the pad receiving the writing of others. Neither making a significant impact. Menial were their tasks, mediocre the products, until one day a third party entered into the equation. Me. Yes I am the narrator of this tale but also am I a character. Even more, I am the catalyst! For if not for my inspiration and introduction their love would never have been ignited.
On a day like any other I sat before the familiar pen and the familiar pad and on a whim suggested they dance. Neither had previously considered the possibility but since neither had any reason to object, they obliged me. What happened next was nothing short of breathtaking! They danced ballads, and epics. They danced sonnets and haikus. They danced stories both long and short. They danced romance and thriller and drama. And as the power of their dance continued to grow they fell madly in love.
That very night they discovered their desire for one another and neither could contain themselves. They were consumed by the flames of their longing and though shy at first, adoration for one another broke down the barriers of their insecurity. The wedding followed suit and the exchange of vows was more beautiful than I could endure. All present shed tears because they danced their commitment to one another.
They danced words of undying, unyielding, unrelenting love. The type of love that survives the test of time and temptation. The type of love that heals wounded hearts & makes men fly on wings of self-worth. The type of love that cannot be bought or sold, lost or found, only given and shared.
The honeymoon was long and deep, and years of blissful weddedness followed. The story however isn’t over. Oh no. For you see, once honeymoon is ended and time passes, the vows given during the wedding grow hazy and are forgotten. The fresh memories of passionate love fade and are lost as life continues on.
Within time, pen and pad became estranged. They forgot the reason for their love. They forgot the products of their love. The flame was quickly going out. They both returned to the menial tasks of their previous lives. Tasks with no beauty or magic. I didn’t know how to help, nor was I aware that help was needed. You see, inspiration, my lover, had eluded me some time prior. But as inspiration and I longed for that which we’d lost we were reunited, and sought to do the same for our dear friends, pen & pad.
We forced them to join us. The music began to play. They both knew the song, inspiration’s song. They began to remember their first introduction to it and all the beauty which ensued. They gazed longingly at one another and began to dance once more.
This is where the story pauses, not ends, but pauses because their dance is still strengthening. My beloved inspiration has saturated them with his song and they dance on. They dance right this moment to you, their audience. This very story you see is the product of their dance, of their marriage, of their love. The story will continue while we, the components, are present. Inspiration to writer (me), and pen to pad.
Each lived happily long before they met, for each had many uses before their love existed. They carried on blissfully unaware that they were both grossly incomplete. For you see when one is on their own, they are ignorant to their lack of wholeness. Just as one cannot miss a dessert without experiencing its taste, once cannot see their own state of unfinishedness without finding their other half. So, on they went, each on their separate ways. The pen doing the writing and the pad receiving the writing of others. Neither making a significant impact. Menial were their tasks, mediocre the products, until one day a third party entered into the equation. Me. Yes I am the narrator of this tale but also am I a character. Even more, I am the catalyst! For if not for my inspiration and introduction their love would never have been ignited.
On a day like any other I sat before the familiar pen and the familiar pad and on a whim suggested they dance. Neither had previously considered the possibility but since neither had any reason to object, they obliged me. What happened next was nothing short of breathtaking! They danced ballads, and epics. They danced sonnets and haikus. They danced stories both long and short. They danced romance and thriller and drama. And as the power of their dance continued to grow they fell madly in love.
That very night they discovered their desire for one another and neither could contain themselves. They were consumed by the flames of their longing and though shy at first, adoration for one another broke down the barriers of their insecurity. The wedding followed suit and the exchange of vows was more beautiful than I could endure. All present shed tears because they danced their commitment to one another.
They danced words of undying, unyielding, unrelenting love. The type of love that survives the test of time and temptation. The type of love that heals wounded hearts & makes men fly on wings of self-worth. The type of love that cannot be bought or sold, lost or found, only given and shared.
The honeymoon was long and deep, and years of blissful weddedness followed. The story however isn’t over. Oh no. For you see, once honeymoon is ended and time passes, the vows given during the wedding grow hazy and are forgotten. The fresh memories of passionate love fade and are lost as life continues on.
Within time, pen and pad became estranged. They forgot the reason for their love. They forgot the products of their love. The flame was quickly going out. They both returned to the menial tasks of their previous lives. Tasks with no beauty or magic. I didn’t know how to help, nor was I aware that help was needed. You see, inspiration, my lover, had eluded me some time prior. But as inspiration and I longed for that which we’d lost we were reunited, and sought to do the same for our dear friends, pen & pad.
We forced them to join us. The music began to play. They both knew the song, inspiration’s song. They began to remember their first introduction to it and all the beauty which ensued. They gazed longingly at one another and began to dance once more.
This is where the story pauses, not ends, but pauses because their dance is still strengthening. My beloved inspiration has saturated them with his song and they dance on. They dance right this moment to you, their audience. This very story you see is the product of their dance, of their marriage, of their love. The story will continue while we, the components, are present. Inspiration to writer (me), and pen to pad.
Simply Me
Hello world, allow me to introduce myself. Raxxie is what I'm affectionately called. It was a name given to me by my father. So now that the introductions have been covered we can get into my reason for being here. Put simply, I love to write. I am a writer by nature. The only thing I've done longer than writing is singing which is the other love of my life. The third and most important is my relationship with Christ which I'll address at some point.
Basically I want to share myself with the world, as it were, and so this blog shall be my outlet. Here is where everything will be shared in a way that can be related to. You'll see what I mean in time. So here I am, for you to see. Transparant to the world, my thoughts and feelings through my pen; the mightiest of all weapons.
Basically I want to share myself with the world, as it were, and so this blog shall be my outlet. Here is where everything will be shared in a way that can be related to. You'll see what I mean in time. So here I am, for you to see. Transparant to the world, my thoughts and feelings through my pen; the mightiest of all weapons.
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