THE CORNER 4 WOMEN

Friday, 8 December 2023

The Unicorn and the Rainbow Forest by English By Mia

"The Unicorn and the Rainbow Forest"
by English By Mia

Once upon a time, in a colourful land far away, there lived a kind unicorn named Sparkle. Sparkle had a coat as white as snow and a shimmering horn that sparkled like the stars in the night sky.

One day, while exploring the forest, Sparkle stumbled upon a hidden path that led deep into the heart of the woods. The trees here were different—each one had leaves of a different colour, painting the forest with vibrant shades of red, blue, green, and yellow. Sparkle had never seen such a magical place before!

As she wandered further, Sparkle heard a soft voice singing a sweet melody. Curious, she followed the sound until she reached a clearing bathed in the glow of a magnificent rainbow. At the centre of the rainbow stood a group of tiny creatures called Pixies, their wings shimmering in the sunlight.

"Hello, Sparkle! Welcome to our Rainbow Forest," chirped the Pixies in unison.

Sparkle's eyes widened in amazement. "This place is so beautiful! I've never seen anything like it."

The Pixies giggled and invited Sparkle to join their dance beneath the rainbow. They danced and twirled, creating a beautiful harmony of colours that filled the air with joy.

"I wish everyone could see the magic of this forest," sighed Sparkle.

The leader of the Pixies, named Twinkle, fluttered closer to Sparkle. "You have a kind heart, Sparkle. Your wish might come true if you believe in the magic within you."

With newfound hope, Sparkle decided to share the beauty of the Rainbow Forest with the other creatures in the land. She galloped through valleys and across meadows, spreading the message of the magical place she had discovered.

Soon, animals of all shapes and sizes gathered at the edge of the forest, curious to see what Sparkle had found. With a gentle touch of her horn, Sparkle led them into the rainbow-lit woods.

Gasps of wonder filled the air as the animals witnessed the breath taking colours and the playful dance of the Pixies. Each creature felt a warmth in their hearts a feeling of joy and unity.

From that day on, the Rainbow Forest became a place where all creatures, big and small, could come together to celebrate the beauty of nature and the magic of friendship.

And Sparkle, the kind-hearted unicorn, knew that the true magic of the forest lay not just in its colourful trees and radiant rainbows, but in the love and togetherness it brought to all who visited.

So, whenever anyone needed a bit of cheer, Sparkle would invite them to the Rainbow Forest, where happiness and harmony danced hand in hand under the ever-glowing rainbow.

https://www.facebook.com/MiaEnglishTeacher

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Thursday, 7 December 2023

The Pain of Letting Go by James Bauer

"The Pain of Letting Go"
by James Bauer

letting go of old relationships: Finding the right person to spend your life with requires that you let go of many other people you meet along the way. Some dating coaches say dating is all a numbers game. You date enough people, and eventually you will find a mutually satisfying click. There is certainly some truth to this concept. The problem is, our emotions do not let go of people as easily as our logical reasoning does.

The plain truth of the matter is this. Letting go hurts. I’m not telling you to hang on to a man who’s not right for you. I’m just acknowledging the truth. It takes something out of you each time you have to release the attachment you feel toward another human being, even if you don’t want to spend the rest of your life with that person.

As a relationship consultant and dating coach, I spend a good amount of time motivating my clients to get out there and take action on the dating scene. As you can imagine, my clients are not always raring to go right after letting go of a person. I have carefully observed the mindsets that seem to allow some people to let go more quickly (and with less pain) compared with others.

Here’s what I have discovered.

There is less pain when a woman focuses her mind on survival. Now allow me to explain that by defining the opposite approach. The opposite of focusing on survival is focusing on what is lost or what could have been.

It’s a terrible thing, but poachers in some parts of Africa use a special kind of trap to capture monkeys. They attach a jar to a heavy stone and bury the stone so only the jar shows on the surface of the ground. Inside the jar they put a piece of banana or other fruit. Then they stand back at a distance that makes the monkeys comfortable enough to climb down from the tree to retrieve the fruit.

As the monkey closes its fist around the fruit, the hunter charges forward with his spear. The monkey attempts a quick getaway, but the closed fist is unable to emerge from the jar. Only an open hand can fit through the narrow opening at the top of the jar. Refusing to let go of its prize, the monkey hesitates just long enough to allow the hunter to gain the proximity needed for a quick thrust of his spear.

Don’t be like the monkey. Do not be afraid to let go of the prize you have found in a man’s heart. Holding on too long gets in the way of survival mode.

letting go of old relationships: Focusing on survival means doing what you know you have to do, rather than looking back and lamenting what you have lost. It results in a quicker turnaround for one specific reason. In survival mode, people put one foot in front of the other even if emotions do not drive those actions. Taking action brings her face to face with new people, real people with real needs, real hopes, and a real desire to get to know her. The unfolding demands of real human interaction capture the attention of the mind, allowing the focus of thought to grow toward life, toward new relationships.

In contrast, rumination about what could have been feels right, but takes much longer. Your instincts tell you to spend some time mourning the loss of the good things from the previous relationship. Your instincts may even tell you to socially isolate yourself for a while. Don’t do it. Don’t hold on to the fruit at the bottom of the jar when you know it is healthier to move on toward a forest with fruit hanging from the trees. It’s this forward-looking quality of thought that seems to bring the best outcomes with the least amount of pain.

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TWAS THE NIGHT BEFORE YULETIDE by C.C. Williford

"TWAS THE NIGHT BEFORE YULETIDE" by C.C. Williford

Twas the night before Yuletide and all through the glen

Not a creature was stirring, not a fox, not a hen.

A mantle of snow shone brightly that night

As it lay on the ground, reflecting moonlight.

The faeries were nestled all snug in their trees,

Unmindful of flurries and a chilly north breeze.

The elves and the gnomes were down in their burrows,

Sleeping like babes in their soft earthen furrows.

When low! The earth moved with a thunderous quake,

Causing chairs to fall over and dishes to break.

The Little Folk scrambled to get on their feet

Then raced to the river where they usually meet.

“What happened?” they wondered, they questioned, they probed,

As they shivered in night clothes, some bare-armed, some robed.

“What caused the earth’s shudder? What caused her to shiver?”

They all spoke at once as they stood by the river.

Then what to their wondering eyes should appear

But a shining gold light in the shape of a sphere.

It blinked and it twinkled, it winked like an eye,

Then it flew straight up and was lost in the sky.

Before they could murmur, before they could bustle,

There emerged from the crowd, with a swish and a rustle,

A stately old crone with her hand on a cane,

Resplendent in green with a flowing white mane.

As she passed by them the old crone’s perfume,

Smelling of meadows and flowers abloom,

Made each of the fey folk think of the spring

When the earth wakes from slumber and the birds start to sing.

“My name is Gaia,” the old crone proclaimed

in a voice that at once was both wild and tamed,

“I’ve come to remind you, for you seem to forget,

that Yule is the time of re-birth, and yet…”

“I see no hearth fires, hear no music, no bells,

The air isn’t filled with rich fragrant smells

Of baking and roasting, and simmering stews,

Of cider that’s mulled or other hot brews.”

“There aren’t any children at play in the snow,

Or houses lit up by candles’ glow.

Have you forgotten, my children, the fun

Of celebrating the rebirth of the sun?”

She looked at the fey folk, her eyes going round,

As they shuffled their feet and stared at the ground.

Then she smiled the smile that brings light to the day,

“Come, my children,” she said, “Let’s play.”

They gathered the mistletoe, gathered the holly,

Threw off the drab and drew on the jolly.

They lit a big bonfire, and they danced and they sang.

They brought out the bells and clapped when they rang.

They strung lights on the trees, and bows, oh so merry,

In colours of cranberry, bayberry, cherry.

They built giant snowmen and adorned them with hats,

Then surrounded them with snow birds, and snow cats and bats.

Then just before dawn, at the end of their fest,

Before they went homeward to seek out their rest,

The fey folk they gathered ‘round their favourite oak tree

And welcomed the sun beneath the tree’s finery.

They were just reaching home when it suddenly came,

The gold light returned like an arrow-shot flame.

It lit on the tree top where they could see from afar

The golden-like sphere turned into a star.

The old crone just smiled at the beautiful sight,

“Happy Yuletide, my children,” she whispered. “Good night.”

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FRIENDSHIP by Becky Hemsley 2023

"FRIENDSHIP"
by Becky Hemsley 2023

Friendship is the type of love that chooses you.

It is a love that chooses you

when there is nothing to make it stay.

A love that says

"I have seen you at your lowest,

I have seen you at your highest

and I will persevere.

Not because I feel obligated to or because we signed a contract

but simply because you are you. Because you matter to me."

Friendship is the kind of love that doesn't need a lot of grand gestures

but it's the kind that chooses to make small gestures that mean a lot.

It drives out of its way to drop off treats at your door when you're not feeling well.

It sends surprise notes in the mail to say "I'm thinking of you."

It sends messages without needing a reply when you're going through a tough time. Because it knows that you might not have the energy to respond.

But it wants you to know that it's here.

Yes, friendship is the kind of love that chooses to exist.

The kind of love that chooses you for no other reason than the fact that

you are you.

And that's why

it is so incredibly special.

Becky Hemsley 2023

Beautiful artwork by Diana Pedott

'Friendship' is from the new collection here: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0CHL9MZC1...

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Wednesday, 6 December 2023

The Mystery of the Haunted House by English With Mia

"The Mystery of the Haunted House" by English With Mia

Once upon a time, there was a small town nestled between tall mountains and lush forests. In this town lived three friends: Lily, Ben, and Sam. They loved exploring and solving mysteries together.

One sunny afternoon, they heard a spooky rumour about an old, abandoned house at the edge of town. It was said that the house was haunted by a ghost who rattled chains and made eerie noises at night.

Lily, Ben, and Sam were curious. They decided to investigate the mystery of the haunted house. As the sun dipped behind the mountains, casting long shadows, they made their way to the creepy house.

The old house creaked and groaned in the breeze. Windows were boarded up, and the paint was peeling off the walls. The friends exchanged nervous glances but summoned their courage to enter.

Inside, they found cobwebs hanging from the ceiling, and dust danced in the dim light. Strange sounds echoed through the corridors. But they remembered they were a team and stuck together.

Suddenly, they heard a chain rattling noise from upstairs. Their hearts raced, but they didn't run away. They tiptoed up the creaky stairs, feeling both scared and excited.

At the top, they discovered an old grandfather clock. Its pendulum swung back and forth, causing the chains inside to make spooky noises. They giggled in relief, realizing the source of the mysterious sounds.

But then, they heard a loud thud from the next room. Hesitantly, they peeked in and found a window half open. The wind was slamming it shut, causing the noise. The ghostly rumours were just the sounds of the old house!

Feeling brave and relieved, they laughed together, glad they solved the mystery. They flung open the windows, letting the fresh air sweep away the spooky atmosphere.

The next day, Lily, Ben, and Sam shared their adventure with the townspeople. They explained that the haunted house wasn't haunted at all; it was just old and creaky. The townsfolk were relieved and thanked the brave trio for unravelling the mystery.

From then on, the friends became known as the "Mystery Solvers" in town. They continued exploring, solving puzzles, and bringing smiles to everyone's faces, knowing that sometimes, things are not as scary as they seem.

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AGING

"AGING" (author unknown)

You grow old, they told me, you are no longer you, you become distant, sad and lonely.

I didn't answer...

I don't get old, I get wise.

I stopped being what others like me to become, but what I like to be.

I stopped seeking the acceptance of others and accepted myself.

I have left behind the lying mirrors that deceive mercilessly.

- No, I'm not getting old.

I just become more selective with places, people, customs and ideologies.

I have let go of attachments, unnecessary pain, toxic people, sick souls and rotten hearts... bitterness and unhappiness are not for me, I release them for my health.

I'm ditching party nights for learning and embracing insomnia.

I stopped living stories and started writing them, I threw aside the imposed stereotypes.

I no longer carry eyeshadow in my bag, now I have a book that beautifies my mind.

I exchanged wine glasses for coffee cups, forgot to idealize life and started living it.

- No, I'm not getting old.

I carry freshness in my soul, innocence in my heart, and it discovers me daily.

I have in my hands the tenderness of a cocoon that, when opened, will spread its wings to other places unreachable for those who seek only the frivolity of the material.

I have that charming smile on my face when I observe the simplicity of nature.

I carry in my ears the chirping of the birds that delight me and accompany the walk.

- No, I'm not getting old.

I become selective, betting my time on the intangible, rewriting the story I've been told, rediscovering worlds, saving those old books I've forgotten half open.

I'm becoming more cautious, I've stopped the outbursts that teach me nothing, I'm learning to talk about transcendent things, I'm learning to cultivate knowledge, plant ideals and falsify my destiny.

- No, I'm not getting old.

I begin to live who I really am

https://tc4women.nicheebookcollections.com/NEWSLETTER-EBOOK-LIBRARY-SIGNUP.html

AFTERLIFE by Becky Hemsley

"AFTERLIFE"
by Becky Hemsley 2022

“In my next life,” said the tree

“I think I’ll be a dragon,

Or maybe be a mountain troll

Who owns a giant tavern

Perhaps I’ll be a little girl

With secret, hidden powers

Or maybe be a tiny ant

That lives amongst the flowers

Perhaps I’ll surf a waterfall

Or burrow underground,

Perhaps I’ll find a heart-shaped balloon

And float up to the clouds

Perhaps I’ll find a rocket

And I’ll fire it into space

Or maybe meet a pirate

With a scar upon his face”

“What do you mean?” I asked the tree

And that is when he said

“You know we’ll all die one day

But our souls will not be dead

So when the world assumes

That I have reached eternal sleep

I’ll worry not because I’ll have

So much life left in me

See, they will take my ever-reaching

Branches in their glory

And I’ll become the pages

Of a many-treasured story

And that is why you’ll often

Find them leafing through the pages

Or turning over new leaves

Of a tale they’ve known for ages

I will not look as I do now –

My life will be rewritten

But they will hear my echo

On the pages if they listen

So if you feel inclined to,

Take a walk into the woods

And take a bag upon your back

Packed with your favourite books

Then find a shady canopy,

A leafy spot to rest

And read the trees the stories

Of the lives they might live next”

*******

Becky Hemsley 2022

Gorgeous artwork by Nanda Corrêa

‘Afterlife’ is from my newest collection, Letters from Life https://a.co/d/f1WmnD0

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PUT DOWN

"PUT DOWN"
(author unknown)

Put down what you're doing. Right now.

The knife that cuts the vegetables.

The tool that carves your craft.

The camera that captures your average scene.

Put down what you're doing. Right now.

The pen that writes the list.

The spoon that cools the soup.

The hand that blends the hot and the cold of the bath water so that her tiny feet don't feel a shock on the first dip.

Put down what you're doing right now.

The text that puts the finishing touches

To Saturday nights plans.

So that we can gather our small talk around elephants in rooms that grow bigger and bigger.

As we talk smaller and smaller.

Children are not for resilience

Or for unthinkable trauma

That actually, we must think of.

Or for being trapped in a living nightmare that they'd ordinarily never even have a sleeping nightmare about.

Put down what you're doing right now.

The child you lay to sleep

On silky comforting pillows

After a carefully heated bath.

As she lays her baby down.

On hard surface

The 7 thousandth of 7 weeks.

The wretched scream from the gut of a grieving mother,

Trapped in inescapable horror.

Put down the small words in the small talk

Of your easy Saturday night.

Put down the discomfort you feel when you think of it.

Put down the hard feeling generated by images.

Put down your silence

The echoes of which obliterate compassion.

Put down your silence.

The echoes of which collude shame.

And lift up your courage

To share the image that needs to be shared.

And lift up your solidarity

To offer a parent that needs your offering.

And lift up your heart

To open it to truth.

You are human. They are human.

We are human.

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