I Encourage You

This section is a great way to list writing prompts to encourage you to reach deep within and create something beautiful. Each encouragement will be listed in a sub section. It should appear as you hover over this tab. I look forward to reading the finished products. Thank you for participating. Happy Blogging ^ ^

22 thoughts on “I Encourage You

  1. Pingback: Opening New Doors | Quarksire
  2. Pingback: Trip Down Memory Lane | Unload and Unwind
  3. It’s what i call “triggers” –>

    i see the snails i transplanted from my parent’s house 9-some years ago to my back yard and am reminded of my parents (both expired in 2004)

    i taste/smell heath candy bars and think of bronzed baby shoes/boots (my mom told me when i told her this, many years ago, that when a baby-shoe bronzer ( a person who professionally does that) came to our house to bronze my siblings and my first baby shoes, he gave us all heath candy.

    but it is when i see the first light of the sun, the light of day, on a mountain or hill or cliff, and sometimes am almost veritably awash with “first light of day” memories — seemingly expanding off in many directions. i remember a sunset on twin peaks jutting out of the gulf of california; i saw the distant crimson glow on Maui’s Haleakala while peering out of a tent in the jungle below; wintry mornngs on a hillside outside of Boulder when i routinely would spend a meditative night pondering the big vast whatever; and, ah, those mornings many years ago waking from a shared sleeping bag with my still-asleep girlfriend of that time …

    and of course i get nostalgic when i pass a sports stadium or field, and think back of not so much my personal experience but those many years of watching my children participate. i can smell the summer breeze across the cut grass, a hint of the dust kicked-up by scampering feet, the shouts from parents and spectators, the official’s whistle — it doesn’t take much for that to ring in my ears and sense of smell. i can only imagine i can still SEE it.

    living in usually dry-hot high-desert west colorawdough — there’re times when the weather takes me elsewhere, primarily when it is cloudy cool and raining. i remember (as vividly as i can) times of walking around boston (where i met my wife), but more so of the Pacific Northwest. “a Portland (Oregon) day” my wife and i will say. summer thunderstorms with crackling thunder and gusts bearing sometimes stinging rain — i am taken to similar stormy moments in the REAL high country, just below the barren jagged peaks. ah, i will always love the peaks. i will look at a distant ridge, sometimes snow-covered while i am bathing (as it were) in an early episode of spring warming, and can acutely imagine standing up there — ice crystals borne by the wind cutting my cheeks (lovingly? cutting …) — the slap of cold wind on my face — because once you’ve BEEN THERE, you can easily always go there again.

    i have, in a sense, only just started with this nostalgia thing, so i’ll stop. for now.

    Liked by 1 person

    • My condolences on the loss of your parents. I find beauty within your story and it really brings emphasizes how life, does go on. Its so great that you still have the snails as a reminder and they are nostalgic for you. Thank you so much for sharing this moment


  4. Pingback: Moments of Nostalgia Writing Challenge | chey4412
  5. Pingback: Moments of Nostalgia |

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