mermaidcamp
Keeping current in wellness, in and out of the water
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#SelfCareSunday Social Media Management
July 16, 2017
— 1 Comment
heard it through the grapevine
heard it through the grapevine
Social media has a way of consuming more time than anticipated. The phone is a silent thief vibrating in your pocket, distracting you from whatever you are doing. There are now special programs at hotels for folks who want to do a detox. The deal is that the front desk will keep your phone locked up for you while you try to go cold turkey. You pay a fee for this service. This example from 2009 is listed as a detox package for just $199 a day ( that is per person) at a fancy place just outside Washington, DC. They were probably pioneers in the growing market, and DC probably does generate a lot of social media anxiety.
The terem social media management is normally used to refer to the marketing of a business using the various platforms. What I mean is personal management and strategy. You don’t need an expert to help you design a strategy. You are the only person who knows how far social media has slipped into every aspect of your day. You are the only one who really can asses your need for “likes” and what that need represents. This is not a relationship with your phone, although it seems to be. This social media presence is a self image, crafted by you.
There are now businesses designing custom social media detox retreats. This is a high growth industry. Just like the opioid crisis, the social media addiction problem can be treated with mindfulness and meditation for a long term cure. Staying “clean” after one of these intentional cleanse periods will require a plan. But why wait until you need an expensive intervention? Now is an excellent time to find balance between life and digital devices.
My own strategy, which works pretty well, is to have no relationship with my phone. I don’t give out my cell phone number, and ignore my phone most of the time. I have a land line to talk to people, and I don’t text. I use the phone for GPS and to make calls when I travel. I sit at my desk (like now) to write or read on the laptop. I limit the desk time just because I am not the type who likes to sit for long periods of time. When I finish my tasks on the computer, which include a couple of platforms, I leave it behind while I move around and do the rest of my day. This keeps my focus on the task at hand, both at the desk (because I want to finish) and on the go. I occasionally get sucked in for short times, but basically this system creates a functional boundary. Have you ever thought about where your digital boundary is….or where you want it to be? Take care of your time, gentle reader…it is a terrible thing to waste.
#WritePhoto Tunnel Vision
June 22, 2017
— 10 Comments
apparition
Crawling on our bellies through the mud, James Bond style, we quietly exited the castle. Our scuba gear was hidden in the brush at the end of the tunnel. We had the documents we needed to prove the identity of the spy we had come to investigate. Her tricky double agent status had fooled us into thinking she was interested in helping us. As we proceeded with some caution we discovered her true intention was theft and subsequent sale of our defense plan. Ever since that covert meeting at the tavern she had turned up in curious ways. We sensed that we were being followed, and took pains to put her off our scent. Finally we discovered the source of her power and wealth. She was fully funded by the Inquisitors, and was expected by her masters to defeat us through espionage.
Our island was infiltrated by the Inquisitors without our knowledge. The slow trickle of foreign settlers all claimed to be loyal to our mission. The last island in the sea that was not ruled by a conglomerate was to be our Eden. We planned to live in harmony with nature, cultivating the plants, the social customs, and the laws that would preserve our tiny paradise. Refugees from all over the world had journeyed to our island to take part in this bold social experiment. Science and politics had failed us when they combined to dominate the world. Our diet had been reduced to just corn, potatoes, and animal fat. We were starving on many levels. The abundance and freedom we once cherished had been sold. Humanity had sold itself for secure employment in a mysterious system that enslaved the populace. Now our survival would depend on our ability to weed out those who intend to destroy our culture.
The justice system had been corrupted, but there was a single official who retained both integrity and power. The Judge Most High still had the ability to rule in favor of morality. He told us that with evidence he could convince the other rulers to allow our culture to survive in freedom. Some of the most powerful rulers had started to think they had gone too far with the total control of agriculture, environment, and religion. They feared creativity had been wiped out forever to feed the factory machine. They feared the automaton nation might eventually become too weak to survive under the strict and repressive circumstances. They wondered if nature was angry at the killing of all her diverse species for the sake of “markets”.
We managed to sneak away, but wondered if we could make it to the Judge Most High without being caught. We saw a hazy figure blocking the end of the tunnel that lead out to the beach. At first we could not distinguish if the figure was man or woman, friend, or foe. We continued in silence with deep anxiety, wishing for the best. Finally we saw that the Judge Most High was waiting for us. Our fate was sealed. Either the Judge Most High was truly an ethical figure, or we were about to turn over evidence to a double agent. There was only one way out of this predicament. It was show time.
#writephoto
This story is written in response to Sue Vincent’s Daily Echo photo prompt this week. Tune in to read, write, and comment here. It is fun to see how many differences there are in the responses.
#WritePhoto Abandoned
May 25, 2017
— 10 Comments
This is inspired by Sue Vincent’s Thursday photo prompt
ruin
The building bitterly fell down around them in the end. They refused to move when the epidemic wiped out the neighbors and all the businesses. They decided to stay since they were the sole surviving members of the cult. The bishops foretold of a great sickness, and built shelters to hide from the inevitable. The underground bunkers that had been designed to save the people from harm turned out to be the source of the deadly mold that infected their lungs and spread like wild fire. After almost a year of suffering and loss the difficult decision was made to seal the enclosures with the infected population trapped inside.
Very few of the elders knew about the plan to bury those who were carrying the mold in order to save the few who remained healthy. The stone house was the headquarters of the operation. The six members of the board carried out their plan with precision and cold blooded planning. While the people in the bunkers slept they set off canisters of poison gas and closed the entrances. They were all killed as they dreamed. Those in charge knew they had murdered their own believers in what they decided was self defense. There was no excuse, and there would be no remorse from these reprobates. They only cared for their own survival at any cost.
Although they had years of food stored for the future of the community, when they opened the storehouse they found it swarming with all kinds of bugs. The seeds had been devoured by the hungry insects who now jumped out and started to eat the rest of the humans. They took refuge back in the stone house until the building itself heaved and crumbled to the ground. There was no earthquake or storm. The stones of the walls and the clay tiles on the roof rebelled against giving shelter to these selfish plotting fools. In an act of revenge they crushed the elders as they slept. Nature had the last word. Only a ruin stands now as a reminder of human greed and folly gone awry.
Please visit the photo prompt round up to read the entires from last week. Read, write, comment, contribute!
#writephoto
#WritePhoto Old Green Stone Wall
May 11, 2017
— 10 Comments
green passages
People tell stories about the time before the stone wall was built. The streams and rivers flowed freely and served everyone as they went by. Water to run small mills and to irrigate crops was plentiful and easy to find. Family farmers subsided and even thrived in years when the weather was favorable. The community members provided for each other, and the simple agricultural life was comfortable. They had plenty of food, shelter, and water.
Progress came to the area in the form of a land buy out by a large estate owner who wanted to experiment in modern farming techniques. His ignorance of nature combined badly with his lame and greedy attitude toward those with deep knowledge of working the land. He changed the landscape, moved the waterways to suit his purposes, and set out to build an empire. He had a monopoly on all the waterways in the valley, having sewn up all the land on which the tributaries flowed. His signature move was a large stone wall he built. It stood in the middle of stream, with tunnels to handle the water as it flowed beneath the structure. He was secure and pleased with his conquest of this natural resource when all hell literally broke loose. With a crack of thunder and a flash of lightening the sky broke open with a stormy and deadly response to his lack of respect for Mother Nature.
The flash flood poured over all the banks and rushed through the canals and tunnels like an angry dragon. Destruction and erosion brought famine to the land, once ripe and productive. Once the greedy land owner gave up the ghost the land itself returned to a riparian state. The farmers did not return, so the land has been fallow for centuries. It no longer feeds or shelters people. The natural world has taken the place of the former residents. The streams flow sweetly and green moss covers the ancient stone as if nothing had ever happened. All is forgotten.
#writephoto
This slice of fiction is a take on the prompt of this week by Sue Vincent. Visit Sue’s Daily Echo to read, comment, or submit your own story or poem.
#NaPoWriMo Barriers and Boundaries
April 28, 2017
— 1 Comment
wall
wall
When barriers go up they exclude thought
They intend to protect, but offer no real shield
From the harsh reality that must be taught
In order for the entire community to be healed
Boundaries are healthy, they define our rules
Selfish stonewalls of ignorance are built by fools
Know the difference between freedom and deceit
Listen carefully for shenanigans and vain conceit
Don’t bind your mind too tightly, don’t hide in your yard
You may find, to your dismay, you’re hoist with your own petard
ruins
Please join poets in the month of April for National Poetry Writing Month. Find new material to enjoy at the #NaPoWriMo site, or by following the hashtags on social media.
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- #GloPoWriMo
The Sad Story of Felix Powell
April 10, 2017
— 1 Comment
I have a special treat for my gentle readers today. My good digital friend Marjorie Clayman is my guest today. We probably met on twitter, being a little silly, but over the years I have come to really appreciate Margie’s attitude. She spends a great deal of her time crafting hand made items of the useable sort, which she donates to those who need it the most at the time. She is not only a powerhouse of crafty artful blankets and hats, but also is pretty crafty as a wordsmith. She works in public relations, so words are her stock in trade. Margie adds her own personal commitment to a better world to all her communications. She brings us a story about war and the way it leaves lasting impressions. Without further ado, I bring you Ms Clayman:
Marjorie Clayman, guest author
The other day, in honor of the 100th anniversary of the US entering World War I, I attended a commemorative event filled with speakers and musicians. One of the singers sang a song called “Pack Up Your Troubles in Your Old Kit Bag and Smile, Smile, Smile.” The singer, in a laid back tone of voice common to folk singers, talked about how the song had been written by two brothers. One of the brothers, Felix Powell, performed the song for soldiers all along the WWI front. The song became popular again during the Second World War and resurfaced once more during the Vietnam War.
You are thinking that this is a feel-good story at this point. You might think that even more so when you learn, as I did via this article (http://www.independent.co.uk/arts-entertainment/music/features/chapter-and-verse-the-surprising-story-of-the-song-pack-up-your-troubles-in-your-old-kit-bag-2124620.html) that the brothers submitted the song to a contest as a joke. They thought it was a dud. When they won first price they thought it was hilarious, and Felix decided to take that opportunity to win some fame. What are the chances?
Sadly, however, the story did not end happily for Felix Powell. This is not a story of rags to riches, per se. Rather, this is a story about the humbling and very real impact of gruesome warfare.
When Powell first got to the front lines, he felt really good about himself, as anyone would. His song was hopeful. Cheerful.
“Pack up your troubles in your old kit bag, And smile, smile, smile, While you’ve a lucifer to light your fag, Smile, boys, that’s the style. What’s the use of worrying? It never was worthwhile, so Pack up your troubles in your old kit bag, And smile, smile, smile.”
Powell was giving these boys a happy message while they tried to survive, far from home.
As the war dragged on, however, Powell began to see just how tragic trench warfare was. He visited battlefield after battlefield, and it dawned on him that these boys were dying. Thousands of them were dying. They were undertaking the ultimate sacrifice, in fact, and he was strumming away at them asking them to smile smile smile. According to the singer at my concert, as well as the article posted above, Powell began to see the contradiction between his light-hearted message and the world he and these boys were actually living in. He became filled with regret, and he never really was the same.
Powell pursued some other writing opportunities after WWI, but he had a rough time of it. When the Second World War broke out and the song gained popularity with a new generation of fighters, you can imagine him grimacing. Now his song was going to be used to make light of more young men marching towards death.
In 1942, Powell, who had entered his town’s Home Guard, dressed himself in his uniform, took his assigned rifle, and aimed at his heart. It is a shocking mark of how much his experiences had impacted him, and perhaps how much regret had come to overshadow any level of success he had ever enjoyed.
I found this story to be deeply moving. Many entertainers, of course, have gone overseas to try to cheer up the troops. You never really think how that impacts those celebrities, though. How can you perform with joy and verve and cheer when you know that you are trying to raise peoples’ spirits who could be killed on the field? It puts war itself, as well as entertainment tied to war, into a very real, and oft overlooked, perspective.
#NaPoWriMo Dystopia
April 9, 2017
— 1 Comment
Wall
My dystopian dream is all coming true
They are building a wall around the suburbs
And making them pay for it
#GloPoWriMo
Join the world for National as well as Global Poetry Writing month by following the above hashtags, reading, writing, reciting, or listening to poetry in April. This celebration of all poets, accomplished or not happens each year and goes on all month. You still have time to bust a rhyme. Check it out here.
Entitled Ignorance #NaPoWriMo
April 3, 2017
— 1 Comment
the fuzz
the enforcer
the fuzz
Power to the heavily armed, confusion for the rest
Our resources have been confiscated to feed the hungry pest
Who dominates our life and times with injustice and pain
It is hard to say how many will survive this corrupt reign
Sitting it out is impossible because it runs right up to your door
Knocking down all that is holy in the name of an eternal war
#NaPoWriMo2017
Please ride the poetry train all month in April to find new poets, or find the poet in you. All are welcome all month.
#GloPoWriMo
#WeekendCoffeeShare #NaPoWriMo Edition
April 1, 2017
— 4 Comments
#NaPoWriMo2017
Dear Gentle Readers,
In April I write 30 poems in 30 days to honor my famous ancestor who was an exceptional poet and a special kind of historian. Today I join folks from around the world to participate in this year’s #NaPoWriMo. Since it is a global initiative it is also known as #GloPoWriMo to make it clear that everyone is invited. You can follow both these hashtags on twitter or Facebook for more information. I invite you to partake as a fan or a poet. You my be surprised at the poet you find inside of yourself. There are many wonderful styles of writing to discover in this treasure trove of artistic expression. Don’t be shy. Write a poem.
#GloPoWriMo
Please sit down, relax, take a load off your feet
While I tell you the story of Ann Dudley Bradstreet
She published her poetry in the Puritan times
Her English is old school, her well crafted rhymes
Were concerned with religion and current events
She made poignant requests to her progeny to stay
On the right side of God’s will, never sit on the fence
She begged us to be ethical, honest, virtuous and bold
Her legacy is eloquent, the details of our family were told
In real time as America took unexpected turns toward liberty
Finding her voice as a woman was a rare privilege, an anomaly
As her descendant I call on her esteemed presence in April every year
I ask for her assistance to drop a few decent beats, to be pertinent and clear
And so, dear ancestor, now scattered into stardust and moonbeams
Visit me with your discipline, your wisdom, and all of your ancient dreams
To follow in your footsteps I am going to require a great deal of your love
Look down on your daughter here on earth, send inspiration from above
in bloom
looking up
If we were having coffee this month I would ask my coffee friends around the table to ride the poetry train if you are able. I know it is corny and may turn perverse. I assure you than in May I will return to verse. The coffee share and the poetry train go well as a duo, in my opinion. Help yourself to coffee, tea, and poetry. For more digital beverages and prose, please visit Nerd in the Brain. The weekly party is always interesting and stimulating.
#WeekendCoffeeShare
