When it comes to fighting for your dreams,be a dragon. Breathe fire.-Richelle E. Goodrich
Thursday, April 27, 2017
Slaying Dragons: Quotes, Poetry, & a Few Short Stories for Every Day of the Year
JANUARY
—Bakunawa —
The dragon that
swallows the moon whole.
January 1st
There are trials in life
that feel as tremendous as a quest to slay dragons. These trials are daunting. They require hard work, determination, and
courage. But when the dragon is finally
slain, the relief is immense.
January 2nd
It is tempting to quit
striving toward a goal when you have neither the time, the resources, the
support, the means, nor perhaps the confidence in talent to reach the level of
standing you wish to reach. But these
are not reasons to quit. Move forward
anyway. Try your best. Put what little you do have into
accomplishing what you can, because along the way you may attain a portion of
what you feel is lacking. And owning a
portion of a dream is better than owning no dream at all. Never give up.
January 3rd
Bad habits are demons that often
push us into isolation because they know that in our loneliness they stand
little chance of being overcome.
January 4th
Habits grow like dragons if
you feed them.
January 5th
Bad habits are spiraling
slides that drag you round and round down the narrowing end of a cone that
eventually ends up in a dark, tight, confining spot.
Good habits are hooked wings
that steadily grow in girth and strength.
At first, they grasp and climb until those beautiful wings can lift the
bearer out of the darkness and above the clouds to heights few ever experience.
January 6th
I saw a man climb a
mountain with no feet or hands and barely a stump for each arm and leg. At once I realized there was no excuse at all
for me not to scale my own mountains.
January 7th
To reach a goal:
Give it your best.
Own your choices.
Ask for help.
Learn as you go.
January 8th
Chew off a little every day,
because it’s hard to swallow a whole pie at once.
January 9th
Nothing remains idle and
thrives. Life needs a moving force to
prevent the devastating effects of stagnancy.
That is why life employs change.
January 10th
Weakness drives us to set goals, to try harder, to put
forth more effort, to dream and wish and hope, to reach out further and down
deeper, to pray earnestly, to cry mightily, to understand and empathize with
valid sincerity. In truth, weakness is a
catalyst for greater strength.
January 11th
When you understand that
faith is God’s muscle at your disposal, moving mountains doesn’t seem so
extraordinary.
January 12th
There are tomorrows on
their way worth the struggles of today. Never
give up.
January 13th
Never be
intimidated by what seems ominous, for BiG is only an accumulation of many
smalls.
January 14th
I know you would like to blame
the world, but the fact is that life is an “up to you” thing.
January 15th
Most are unaware of their
tremendous worth and boundless potential, despite possessing both.
FEBRUARY
— Herensuge —
The dragon with
sweet, tempting breath.
February 1st
I slay dragons at night
while you sleep.
I see by the way your face
contorts how they exist in your dreams.
Willing a magic sword, I
plunge into your deepest nightmares and swing at the beasts with all my might,
dodging flames exhaled by monsters that would eat me alive to go on torturing
the fair one I love. I see your face
relax, eyes still drowsily closed, when the mighty dragon is slain.
It may be that my fingers
rub soft circles on your forehead as I imagine my brave fight as a knight
reclaiming your dreams. You smile under
the spell of my touch, and I am rewarded.
And so, my love, as I await the dawn, I stand ready to slay dragons
while you sleep.
February 2nd
It seems my heart is made
of tissue paper; I wish the world would handle it more delicately.
February 3rd
I love you for a great many
reasons and despite a great many others.
February 4th
People search the world
over looking for someone to love them, when they should be searching for
someone to love.
February 5th
“If you were to sacrifice even a portion of yourself
for the relationship, you would naturally fall in love with him. I guarantee it.”
February 6th
Love
is donating a chunk of your life to patch up holes in the life of another.
February 7th
The
rarest, truest beauty is visible only to the heart.
February 8th
The real beauty of a woman
is most clearly seen in the smiles of those who interact with her.
February 9th
If God were to make a
million lovely flowers in your image and plant them in a garden with you among
them, I would still know you by your scent and by the feel of your petals and
by the crazy way you lean towards my light whenever I draw near.
February 10th
“My knight may not wear a
coat of shining armor, but his code of glowing honor will never fail to protect
us both from evils far worse than any fire-breathing dragon.”
February 11th
“I love you” sounds best
spoken in quiet acts of kindness.
February 12th
Love in its essence is
unconditional. When conditions, exceptions, and ultimatums are cast into the
mix, its purity changes. It is no longer love and should be referred to by a
less-desirable name.
February 13th
Amore is love
confessed to you in haiku.
Do you love me too?
February 14th
When I ask you to be my
valentine, I’m not asking you to love me.
I’m simply asking you to accept tokens of my love for you.
February 15th
When you love someone, you
don’t care that she ate your sandwich.
You only hope she found it delicious.
MARCH
— Guivre —
The aggressive dragon
that prowls the countryside.
March 1st
I wear my wrinkles like
battle scars, having earned every last one slaying life’s dragons. They boast of my victories and some defeats
while their beauty is a wealth of wisdom gained.
March 2nd
If you suffer lingering
doubts; if the consolation you cling to is ‘it
will probably be okay,’ then run the other way because what you’re
contemplating is not a good choice.
March 3rd
I sat in a box
With walls on each side.
Not too tall.
Not too wide.
To think.
To ponder.
To pray.
To hide.
I sat in a box and cried.
March 4th
Sadness is the heart withdrawing
to seek shelter from the pain.
March 5th
Young
Raccoon, for reasons real and personal, had sunk into a sorrowful mood. It wasn’t just a sullen slump or a sighing
sort of sadness. No. Poor Raccoon had endured one of life’s harder
trials and was consequently overcome with a wretched, grim, tearful type of sorrow. It wasn’t long before a close friend wandered
by and noticed Raccoon’s dark, quiet burrow echoing a sound of sobbing. Curious and concerned, Brown Beaver invited
himself in.
“Oh
my, such weeping! All is not well to be
sure!” Beaver hurried over and placed a
hand on the shoulder of his troubled friend.
“Tell me please, whatever is the matter?”
But
Racoon said nothing, unless the whimpers that accompany tears can be considered
a response.
“Oh
dear, something must be done,” determined Beaver. So he arranged a stack of wood in the hearth
and lit a cozy fire.
“There
now, here is a little light and comfort.
Surely this will make you feel better.”
But
Raccoon continued to cry, rubbing at black, swollen eyes as if the light were a
harsh contributor to misery.
“Oh
no,” sighed Beaver. “This is not good,
not at all. I must go find help.” With a promise to quickly return, he left
Raccoon beside the fire.
Only
minutes passed before Beaver stuck his head inside the warm burrow. Below him poked in a tinier head belonging to
Squirrel.
“Oh
dear, oh dear, you're right! This is a miserable
sight!”
Squirrel
hurried into the room and proceeded to remove a handful of nuts stored in his
cheeks. He then tossed them into a pan
over the smoldering fire built by Beaver.
Soon, the room was saturated with the rich, buttery smell of roasted
nuts.
“Here
you are, Raccoon,” said Squirrel, shaking the nuts onto a plate. “Some comfort food will certainly make you
feel better. Try one.”
Raccoon
didn't even glance at the offered plate but continued to cry and sniffle as if
the fragrant smell were an enhancer of sadness. Squirrel looked at Beaver. Both were clueless as to what to do.
“We
must go find someone who can help,” they decided.
As
quick as a wink the pair left and returned with Black Cat who took a minute to
size up the situation. She then
confidently declared, “We must dry up these tears, for no one can eat and be
happy when soaked in tears!”
With
that thought, the three friends wiped at Raccoon’s wet fur, sopping handkerchiefs
in the process. Black Cat even went so
far as to purr a quiet, relaxing chord while licking at the glistening fur
around Raccoon’s eyes, and yet the tears continued to spill, replacing those
washed away.
“Well,
this most certainly is not working,” Cat finally admitted, lamentably swooshing
her tail. Beaver and Squirrel readily
agreed. “We must go find someone who can
help!”
They
hardly stepped outside when the slender form of Corn Snake appeared in the road
and slithered over to them. Snake was informed
as to Raccoon's sorry state and came up with a fine idea.
“The
poor dear simply needs some hugs and kisses.
A bit of affection will dry up those unhappy tears.”
Agreeing
it was worth a try, the four turned right around to enter the burrow and
encircle Raccoon, administering snug hugs and tender kisses. Snake gave an especially tight hug, but it had
no effect at all on Raccoon’s woeful weeping. Even a ticklish kiss from a forked tongue received
no favorable response. The four friends
were beginning to feel a bit glum themselves when Calandra Lark came flittering
into the burrow.
“Tweet,
tweet, tweet! Whatever is the matter?”
“Oh
dear, Calandra, just look! Raccoon is
extremely sad. Yet as hard as we have tried,
our efforts have failed to stop the tears.”
“Is
that all?” Calandra Lark chirped, perching on the fireplace mantle. “’Tis nothing a happy song can’t remedy.”
Puffing
out her feathery chest to convey a mountain of confidence, the little bird
began to chirp a bright and lively tune.
Calandra twittered and tweeted and even trilled many a string of notes, but
the cheerier the tune, the more Raccoon appeared to cry. At long last, Miss Lark ceased singing.
“Oh
what is to be done?” she sighed. “There
must be someone who can help!” No sooner
had she said the words then a high-pitched squeal of laughter carried from
outside. Swinging down from a tree into
the warm, crowded burrow, Monkey addressed a group of surprised onlookers.
“Did
I hear that someone is in need of my help?”
“Oh
yes, indeed!” the five agreed simultaneously.
“Look here! Raccoon is so sad,
and yet nothing we have done has relieved the weeping!”
Monkey
laughed aloud again, not meaning to be insensitive. “Eee, eee, eee! Do not worry, for I will cheer up our good
friend in an instant!”
Monkey
crossed the room on feet and hands to stand directly before the saddest of
souls. He then delved into chipper
chatter, telling jokes, answering his own riddles, and laughing at his own
humorous stories. At last, he attempted
only calm words of comfort because Raccoon continued to cry, making pitiable noises
as if the jollity was anguish to bear.
Needless to say, nothing worked to halt the tears.
“Oh
me, oh my! Poor, poor, poor Raccoon!”
the company cried, succumbing to a measure of grief and sorrow themselves. “Please, tell us—whatever is the matter with
you?” But Raccoon shrank into a tighter
ball, withdrawing while giving them no answer.
Overwhelmed
with concern, the six good friends stepped outside Raccoon’s burrow to discuss
the problem, hoping to hit upon a solution.
They were running short of ideas. Debating whether or not to render the weeper
unconscious, a strong voice of objection cut them off. Every head turned to see Red Fox step out of
the underbrush.
“Oh,
Fox, if not this, then what should we do?
For Raccoon has been crying inconsolably for hours! We have tried light and warmth, tempting
food, wiping away tears, hugs and affection, cheerful songs, and kind words of
comfort. None of it has had any effect
on Raccoon’s dreadful sadness!”
Red
Fox walked up to the burrow entrance on quiet paws, but before ducking inside
he turned and voiced an idea no one else had possessed the sense to think
up. For it seemed to them rather
senseless.
“Sadness
is like a cloud in the sky; it exists out of grasp. Therefore, the only option is to let sadness
be sad until it is not.”
Curious
as to what Red Fox intended to do, the others followed him inside. There, he took a seat beside Raccoon and
waited. He did nothing but sit. Nothing at all.
Confused—yet
lacking a better idea—Beaver, Squirrel, Black Cat, Corn Snake, Calandra Lark,
and Monkey all settled inside Raccoon’s burrow and likewise did nothing. The house remained quiet for hours upon hours
as weeping, sniveling, and the occasional sigh carried over the sound of a
crackling fire kept alive by Beaver.
Time
passed.
Some
nodded off for a brief spell, but no one left the room or made any attempt to
keep sadness from being sad—as Fox had wisely declared.
Eventually
and at long last, the gloomy cloud dissipated.
All eyes turned to Raccoon, realizing that what had seemed like
inconsolable grief had somehow transformed.
Raccoon sat up and looked around, exchanging a small smile with each and
every sympathetic face.
“Thank
you, my friends.”
“Thank
you for what?” someone asked, though others certainly wondered. For while Raccoon had wept a river of tears, they
had done nothing but sit as still and noiseless as tree stumps.
Squeezing
paws with Red Fox, Raccoon softly said, “Thank you for giving me time.”
That’s
when they understood. More often than
not, the only thing that can lift the heavy fog of sorrow is time.
March 6th
Sadness is like sandpaper;
it rubs at our sharper edges, softening and humbling us, making us ready for a
coat of compassion.
March 7th
To be a rainbow in
someone’s cloud is commendable, but I prefer to be the rain because it dampens cheeks
and washes away tears.
March 8th
I think in the heart of
every human being there burns an ember of hope that warmly entices us to believe
everything will eventually come together into one perfect day, and that
potentially the hours in this day will stretch on indefinitely. And so we live our lives in hopeful
anticipation, dreaming and praying to reach this wondrous day, while in the
process we miss out on the anxious affair that life truly is. Life is not perfection; it is everything
else. We must taste and experience
heartaches and trials in order to feel the genuine joy that comes from enduring
them well. We then move on, wiser and
more capable of charity—this being pure love and the reason for life’s trials
altogether.
March 9th
God cries for us in the
same way we cry for others. His tears
most often spill over for the pain and suffering caused from the mortal misuse
of a gift called agency. He will not revoke
the gift. It was promised to us for the
duration of our time on Earth. But He
will hold each one of us accountable in the end for how we applied this power
of agency.
March 10th
Every heart has a layer of
sadness, whether deeply buried or covering the surface for all to see.
March 11th
How
frustrating to think you can be lost to yourself. And yet how often it is that a stranger
stares back at you from the mirror.
Maybe in truth we never see ourselves as clearly as the thousands of
eyes that daily take us in.
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