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 LIVING HAPPY     
UPLIFTING, THOUGHT-PROVOKING NEWS FOR OUR MIND, BODY,AND SPIRIT   

From Carole Kane


  Vol. 5  No. 1                                       February 1, 2015 

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Click here to meet our writers, read past issues, and see comments

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in this issue
Carole Kane M.A., N.C.C. 
Prehistoric picture 

 

 

Dear Friends,

 

Welcome to Living Happy,  a little ray of sunshine for our mind, body, and spirit.  Our aim is to share interesting, enjoyable articles that make you feel good when you finish reading them.

This issue celebrates life in all its iterations - past, present, and future.

In  "My Past Lives"  I try to reach back - maybe I used to be a Roman goddess or a queen somewhere in Africa.   What I found out was - well, you have to read it!

Next,  Brad Holway tells of an awkward  little pioneer back in the day.

Arthur Lewin's story "No Place Like Home"  gave me a bit of a challenge.  I had to look up "griots" - I thought it might be a typo - but, yes, it is a real word!  (In my defense, he IS a college professor - and I'm not!)

Then, in "What is happening?" Dimitra describes an agonizing journey from a comfortable home where everything is just right, to a glaring new world where nothing makes sense.  But maybe it'll be okay.

Last, as a special tribute to Jo Pico, our  beloved Living Happy writer who passed away two years ago on February 1, we offer you her prophetic poem "Heaven". 

If you'd like to comment on our articles, or just say hello, click here: 

 

 

Happy reading!

 

Love, Carole XXX OOO

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My Past Lives                                                 by Carole Kane

 

 

I was recently asked by a rather interesting friend, "Do you know what you were in your past life?"

 

I hadn't given it much thought before, but the question remained with me long after she went home. I started to think about it, tried to remember. I figured I'd start with this life, and maybe the previous ones might become more apparent.

 

So - I have been a baby, a toddler, a child, a student, a teen-ager, an adult, a middle-ager, and an old fart.

My current life...
getentrepreneurial.com

 

A sister, a cousin, a grandchild, a niece, a girlfriend, a wife, a lover, a mother, an aunt, a friend, a divorcee, a single chick, a roommate, a grandmother, a caregiver.

 

I've been a babysitter, a writer, a secretary, a hospital administrator, an envelope-addresser, a counselor, a typist, a teacher, a guitar player, a ghost-hunter, a poet, a bad piano player.

 

 

I've been slim and fat and thin and fat and fatter and thinner and normal.  I've exercised at ten different gyms and pools. I've lived at 21 different addresses. I've been happy, sad, depressed, happier, happiest.  Whew!

 

I'm going to call my friend and let her know I don't care what I was in my past lives. It's enough work just remembering this one!

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Awkwardly...                            by Dr. Brad Holway

...and tentatively, the creature pulled itself onto the rocky beach on its splayed legs, not much more than fins or flippers. Dazzled at first by the bright sunlight, it blinked. It paused there, its front legs on the land, while its hindquarters were still reassuringly bathed by the salty sea-foam. It opened its eyes and looked around, swiveling its head. Though the cool ocean water felt reassuring, the warmth of the sunlight was pleasant as well.

   

It felt a rush of timidity. Its brain, though small, could feel fear. Still, the air was breathable and the sun's warmth made it feel good. Curiosity was just beginning to stir in the creature's primitive brain. It overcame its fear and crawled forward, now totally on dry land. It halted again and looked around. There was nothing nearby that seemed threatening. It continued inland, pressing slowly forward. Awkwardly and unwittingly, it had become a pioneer.

 

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What is happening?                                                              By Dimitra Savvidou

I am somewhere, I do not know where. It is so wet but so comfortable. I float, all around me is liquid but I am solid. What is happening? Why am I here? What is my purpose?

 

I am in a liquid environment, I am floating but I am not free. It is also dark. I am connected to something. I can move my feet, I can move my hands, my head, but I do not have much space and for sure I cannot go anywhere. That tube connects me to something. What is happening?

 

I am not breathing but I am alive, I can move. Why do I have a nose?  I am hungry and yet I do not eat through my mouth. Why do I have a mouth?

 

Is this my existence? Is this where I will spend eternity? What is my purpose?

I hear all those sounds, voices! Where are they coming from? Nice voices, they give me comfort. The truth is that I do not know the answers to my questions, but where I am, I am happy and comfortable. I love those voices and I think that they talk to me;  but I do not know who they are or how they look. It might not be important. I am safe, I am content.

 

Oops! There is pressure, my carrier is screaming. So much noise, I cannot stand it! I am moving, I resist to what is happening. Something is pushing me, too much pressure. Why? I was happy, it was peaceful, I was floating in the waters and now the waters are disappearing. I am moving but not by choice. I hate changes, I hate pressure. Why so much noise?

 

What is happening?

 

My external vessel, the one that I am within, is screaming and crying and pushing. I think it is in pain, it is pushing me. Why? It rejects me? I feel the pain, I hear the sounds, I think that I am abandoned and rejected. My home for nine months deserts me. How come? What have I ever done?

 

I see something at the end of a tunnel, what is this bright thing? Is it what the voices call light? I am pushed towards that brightness, I am leaving home, I am leaving comfort, I am not floating anymore, I am scared, I am curious about what is happening, I travel to the end of the tunnel...

 

Oops! Where am I? Some things talk and look at me. They keep making noises. Why do they look at me? Water is gone! Oh, my goodness, I am in shock! I am out of water, aside from some liquid on me. Look, those things seem a bit like me. Are they what the voices call humans? It seems that my home was inside that beautiful human, I think it is called woman. Now, she hugs me with her arms when she used to hug me inside her.

 

Who are those other humans? They look alike but they are not the same. Oh, they are cutting my tube! How am I going to live? Do they desire to kill me? Those humans are strange. They cried and shouted before, now they smile and laugh. Definitely, they're trying to kill me. That human turns me upside down and screams: "cry, cry"... Okay, I better cry than be killed. I am in such shock, the biggest shock of my life.

 

Crying is good, I feel better now!

 

Strange, I breathe! That's why I have a nose. Yet, I am hungry. Who is going to feed me, who is going to sustain me in life? Is this what the humans call life?

 

Anyway, I better get a nap for now, I will figure it out later...

 

 Dimitra Savvidou

Writing, Teaching, Counselling

www.lovingministry.net

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There's no place like home....          By Dr. Arthur Lewin
 
It's just not cost effective, each family, each person even, in a home of their own with a roof and a yard. Instead, one roof that covers scores and no individual yards, but public squares and many pubs and countless coffee pubs rich with the redolent ferment of all togetherness.

But cost effective or not, should not each family, individual even, possess their own plot, to putter around one's own abode, or outside tending to the garden, or lying on the lawn? Yes, say some. And here's hoping there'll always be some who revere hearth and home.
 
They're our link to our vanishing kin who live wholly upon the land, be it frosty forest, steamy swamp, nearly sterile desert or rocky mountainside. They hold down the fort, that is,our heritage, our connection to the earth. And should our vast and busy hives go awry, they'll be there in our bourn welcoming those of us who survive back into our natural home.

That is where we for ages gathered 'round the fire and in our mind's eye saw the pictures evoked within by the sounds of the shaman and the storyteller. Now, though, we see the precise pictures that hidden griots spew for reasons we do not know. We are drawn to this because this is now the big communal fire. But we need not look. Instead we can visit the older tales, or sit in quiet reverie and see just where our mind alights. Or go where the people are, and talk at length over grog or jolt until our heart's content, or pour out our heart's content upon the page that's now become a screen. 

 
POETRY CORNER


Heaven 
By Josephine Pico
11/5/35 - 2/1/13
Jo Pico and her boys  
I want to know what Heaven's like

Shall we all be young once more?

             Shall we run and play without a care

Just like we did before?

 

I want to know what Heaven's like

Marshmallow clouds on high

With angels playing on their harps

As gently they glide by?

 

I want to know what Heaven's like

I've heard so many lines

But no one here has yet returned

To tell us of their finds.

 

I want to know what Heaven's like

When shadows dim the sky

Will I be zapped up by the stars

Or given wings to fly?

 

I want to know what Heaven's like

No earthly cares or duty

Just love and peace and happiness

And warmth and endless beauty?

 

I want to know what Heaven's like

These thoughts inside my head

Did I get things all messed up

And is it here instead?

 

  From  Living Happy Vol. 1, Number 33 
Think a Little, Laugh a Little  
Cartoon Contributed by Al Moffitt 

Proof that men have better friends  
A woman didn't come home one night. The next morning she told her husband that she had slept over at a friend's house.  The man called his wife's 10 best friends.  None of them knew anything about it.

A man didn't come home one night. The next morning he told his wife that he had slept over at a friend's house.  The woman called her husband's 10 best friends.  Eight confirmed that he had slept over, and two said he was still there. 
contributed by Marlene Emmett  

Advice from Mother to daughter: 

Cook a man a fish and you feed him for a day
But teach a man to fish

and you get rid of him for the whole weekend 

  contributed by Dimitra Savvidou 
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Remember this:
  

Be a reflection of what you'd like to see in others.

If you want love, give love,

if you want honesty, give honesty,

if you want respect, give respect.  

You get in return, what you give!

Life is a mirror...choose the reflection you want to see daily!

From Project Happiness Facebook Page 

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Your Space - For Guest Writers, Ghost Writers, and Commentators

 

THANK YOU! to Brad Holway, Dimitra Savvidou, and Arthur Lewin for your interesting articles this week, and to Al Moffitt and Marlene Emmett for the cartoon and the joke.

 

Would you like to submit an article, around 250 to 300 words?  Do you have a comment about the newsletter?  

     

This Could  be YOU!

Just click here to get started:  Submit an article, poem, or comment   

I look forward to  hearing from you and to reading your work!   

  - - Carole - - 

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