Words for Wednesday
The original Words for Wednesday was begun by Delores and eventually taken over by a moveable feast of participants when Delores had computer troubles. Sadly, Delores has now closed her blog forever due to other problems.
The aim of the words is to encourage us to write. A story, a poem, whatever comes to mind.
If you are posting an entry on your own blog, please let us know so we can come along to read it and add a few encouraging words.
This month the words/prompts are supplied by Sean Jeating and can be found here
This week's words/prompts are:
1.long 2.monk 3.novice 4.spiritual 5.time
and/or:
1.ants 2.boy 3.compassion 4.stream 5.trapped
use either list or both, or mix and match, just have fun.
Charlotte's colour of the month is Carmine as seen above the text here.
My own story will hopefully appear on this blog on Friday 30th
Great words. I look forward to your story.
ReplyDeleteDVArtist; possibly I won't have a story this week, there's a lot going on here and my mind is scattered.
DeleteHere's mine. All words and colour. Really enjoyed the words this week. Thanks Sean.
ReplyDelete------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The monks in their long carmine robes added a special dimension to this 10 mile walk along the mountain trail all the way to the Mestalima Temple at the very top.
Bill was still a novice at this sort of thing and his thirty year old self would have howled with laughter at the spectacle. But it was time now. He had turned forty and had decided his life was far too shallow. Drinking and smoking his couple of spliffs most nights were sucking his creativity. He needed to focus on the spiritual and why not with a retreat to a monastery with other men. It was time to stop being trapped in the incessant picking up of the streams of strange women. To grow up. To find purpose.
The head monk, if that was who he was had registered him before the start and called him “my boy” with a look of compassion. It seemed being an important banker had no effect here.
He was midway up the mountain now, in the middle of the long line of monks and other men like himself who were going to spend a month up here.
We must all look like ants, he thought, wending our way to a mystical destination. Ants. Unimportant.
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XO
WWW
Oh! Each ant is important ...
DeleteWisewebwoman; I like this every much and hope Bill and the other men find the change they are looking or hoping for.
DeleteStarting with a month's retreat sounds a bit extreme, but I hope it works for him.
DeleteI’ll be working on it.
ReplyDeletemessymimi; I look forward to your story.
DeleteI will be back with you by tomorrow. Great words
ReplyDeleteSusan Kane; I look forward to your take on the words.
DeleteGreat story. Very visual.
ReplyDeleteIn a time long past there was an old monk who, through diligent practice, had attained a certain degree of spiritual penetration.
ReplyDeleteHe had a young novice who was about seven years old. One day the monk looked at the boy's face and saw there that he would die within the next few months. Saddened by this, he told the boy to take a long holiday and go and visit his parents. 'Take your time,' said the monk. 'Don't hurry back.' For he felt the boy should be with his family when he died.
Three months later, to his astonishment, the monk saw the boy walking back up the mountain. When he arrived he looked intently at his face and saw that the boy would now live to a ripe old age. 'Tell me everything that happened while you were away,' said the monk.
So the boy started to tell of his journey down from the mountain. He told of villages and towns he passed through, of rivers forded and mountains climbed. Then he told how one day he came upon a stream in flood. He noticed, as he tried to pick his way across the flowing stream, that a colony of ants had become trapped on a small rock in the midst of the flooding stream. Moved by compassion for these poor creatures, he took a branch of a tree and laid it across one part of the stream until it touched the little island. As the ants made their way across, the boy held the branch steady, until he was sure all the ants had escaped to dry land. Then he went on his way.
'So,' thought the old monk to himself, 'that is why the gods have lengthened his days.'
Sean Jeating; oh no! Just this morning I used the jet of my hose to wash ants off my hoya plant! will I lose a year for each ant?? Maybe the gods are too busy to notice...
DeleteI like your story very much.
Sean Jeating; Tant com salvar-lis la vida, no crec que ho hagi fet mai, però sí que em passava hores asseguda a terra, mirant cap a on anaven. ;-)
DeleteBona història!
Excellent story and use of the words, I'm glad he was compassionate.
Delete@ River: Thank you!
DeleteThe gods will respect the fact that you only wanted to protect the Hoya plant. ;-)
@ sa lluna: Gràcies! And they didn't try to carry you to their nest? ;-)
@ Mimi: Thank you. I hope the winterstorm felt compassion with you and the yours.
Sean Jeating: That was a great story. Just to show what a little compassion can do, not just for ants but for us humans too.
DeleteHave a lovely day.
Thank you, Lissa.
DeleteAnd yes, a little more kindness and compassion would make a better place of this planet.
You threw me with the ants, added. Should be a fun read when done though.
ReplyDeleteThe Happy Whisk; I will try, but there is a lot of unexpected stuff going on here in real life and I may not have a story by Friday.
DeleteGood words and nice stories so far.
ReplyDeleteMargaret D; they're a talented bunch aren't they?
DeleteIt looks like fun
ReplyDeleteRuby Rose and the Big Little Angels 3; perhaps you'd like to join in sometime, we don't mind.
DeleteI meant to participate all this month but I couldn't finish anything that I started with the prompts. But I got something this week though I'm late (but it's still Friday here). My take on the prompts:
ReplyDeleteFiction: The Cupcake Tragedy.
Have a lovely day.
Lissa; Sean's prompts are often challenging. I'll be right over.
DeleteAquí teniu el meu:
ReplyDeleteEs trobava profundament fascinada pel món que l'envoltava, la nena es va asseure a terra amb el seu vestit carmí, el sol brillant a la pell, mentre observava les formigues treballant sense parar. Eren com petits monjos, cadascuna a la seva missió, movent engrunes de menjar amb un esforç que li semblava espiritual. Es va preguntar quant de temps portaria construir casa seva, un llarg viatge per a aquests diminuts éssers. Els seus pensaments eren com un riu tranquil que flueix amb corrent serena.
Mentre les formigues anaven i venien, la nena va sentir compassió per elles, eren tan petites, però treballaven amb tant d'afany! Va pensar en com ella, sent encara una novella de la vida, de vegades se sentia atrapada entre la diversió de jugar i les responsabilitats d'ajudar a casa.
Un nen passava corrents a prop, deixant una estela de pols aixecada pels seus peus. La nena va somriure, cada dia són diferents, com un corrent que mai no s'atura...
Tot i ser només una nena, va aconseguir captar la grandesa en allò petit, sentint-se atrapada en un moment que semblava etern. La seva mirada es perdia en els seus moviments, admirant com cada formiga tenia un propòsit, un indret en aquest món. Observant-les va entendre que cadascú té el seu propi camí i això la va fer sentir una mica més gran.
Moltes gràcies!
Wonderful!
DeleteI can just picture little Paula with all the tiny "monks".
Besitos!
Sean: Tens molta imaginació! ;-) Moltes gràcies i petonets!
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