Saint Michael, the Archangel, defend us in this day of battle. Be our protection against the wickedness and snares of the devil. May God rebuke him, we humbly pray; and do you, O Prince of the heavenly host, by the power of God cast into hell Satan and all the evil spirits who prowl about the world seeking the ruin of souls.
More info about this ancient and popular prayer.
By Melania Daniel
Bruised and broken is learning
What life is really about;
All this longing come to nought,
All this aching discomfort
Ends in unsated yearning
Of fine youth turned stale and stout;
They whom misfortune has sought,
They moored in a stormy port
To know the grace of earning
In voices that softly shout;
The way life’s victories are fought,
The racers slowed to a trot.
For information on how to read more of my poems, please visit my writings page.
I am still in a phase of fascination with the literature on breaking bad habits — looking up both the religious and the secular writers on that topic. In my previous post, I thought just going ghost on a habit/quitting cold turkey, was the better option. I’m learning though, what everyone who has made a resolution, New Year’s or otherwise, can tell you: how much humble pie is consumed in the process. Even the strongest willed fail, fall, compromise along the way and have to start again multiple times over. There is merit in consuming smaller and smaller portions of your habit on the way to quitting or managing it better.
I am fallen, into a non-writing habit, for a number of compelling reasons that I am not eager to bring up lest they become convenient excuses that encourage me to be lazy. I scribble a wee bit on occasion, but need to start writing, or re-writing in earnest. I determined one of my bad habits that keep me from investing more time in a good writing habit, allowing for any ailments that make holding a pen to paper challenging, is my online and social media consumption. At the start of this week, I resolved to ‘dump’ my social media accounts for at least one week and see what would emerge in other aspects of my life. The online habit often lead to progressively worse ones, I’ve been told, like trolling, spying, envy, pride – believing we are so good at mind reading or deciphering what others are up to, and so on. I am here now, so I guess that means I am eating humble pie. Meaning I have changed tact and will instead experiment with being online on a schedule of diminishing frequency, and see what changes. Or gives.
I’m told there is no such thing as writer’s block — it’s just a bad habit of non-writing. So, what’s it gonna be? I am more inclined towards option 2 (was that said by a British prime minister?), but I am loving something greater than my habits now, a new hobby, which is also offered as a surefire cure.
Based on this demo I can safely say that the first winds described in my hurricane poem were at category 3 strength.
In the throwback spirit of Thursday memories My Mind returned to a poetry performance tour in Martinique many moons ago. I was invited by a group called Sainte Lucie-Martinique Ansanm – on two occasions actually – to do readings of my poems, television and radio chats about my poetry and country, interviews for print media articles, and answer questions before live audiences about how the economy of Saint Lucia (my homeland) had held up since it became politically independent from Britain.
Those all expenses paid trips did feel good. They also opened my eyes to the fact that there was a very vocal anti-colonial/pro-independence voice in Martinique, against being ‘ruled’ by France, even though it was a minority viewpoint at the time. The mostly poetry performance trips were also an eye opener showing no matter how much you think you are/have nothing, someone is out there eying you, patterning on you. That group felt Saint Lucia was a role model for their aspirations; with its much smaller economy and geographic size compared to Martinique, the island managed to get by with Independence. They argued that the people of Martinique should have more self confidence and stop fearing total collapse if they took charge of their internal and external affairs.
I must try to reconnect with some of the key figures to see how they have evolved since then. The name of the group loosely translates from Creole (a tongue we speak in common) to Saint Lucia-Martinique Together. It was great of them to translate some of my poems into French. (The full PDF of the snip below is here).