Tuesday, June 28, 2016

Guest Blog: Jill-Michele Lewis, photographer and poet



 

TATTOOED

Life leaves it marks, all sizes and shapes
Some are hard to see and some you notice at a glance

Some are by nature and some are by hand
Some are deliberate and some are by chance

The Eagle on my shoulder is the freedom I crave
The Ying Yang below is the hope I long to save

The one on my knee is from a slide into third
it’s a jagged line from side to side

The one on my calf really hurt,
but oh what a ride

The dolphin tail on my back began as an escape
that lead me to find true love

The peace I yearn for shines from the sun
artfully scribed just up above

The scar on my soul is vivid but ensconced
It was left by my stolen youth

The symbol on my hip resembles a butterfly in flight
It is a reminder of the truth

The scar on my heart reminds me that you’re gone
Poignant and permanent, like the words of a song

The design on my stomach is fire and words
Consumed by passion and flame is where I belong.

What keeps me going after so many markings
Is the hope and light I see in you

It’s the desire to know the who or the what
That will design the next tattoo



FOREVER

So long as I am of this earth
A beat left within my heart
Whether from near or from afar
There will always be someone that loves you
Heart and Soul, more than life itself

But when my time is done here
If it is to the sky that I do fly
There will be an angel watching over you
I’ll be the flicker of light from up high

But if in heaven they don’t want me
If it is the fire that calls me home
I’ll be the breathe of heat upon your neck
You feel when you’re alone
The tepid breeze at your back
That always keeps you warm



Biography

Jill-Michele Lewis was born April 1969 in Florida.  Although she left Miami to further her education, her love of the ocean brought her back.  No matter how far she travels or resides …  She will never be too far from the Florida shores.

She loves sports; softball, swimming, jogging, any and all forms of exercise (although her two left feet keep her from dancing anything more than a VERY SLOW sway) and will pretty much take on any sport that requires a racquet.  She practices martial arts, Tae kwon Do and Jujitsu, as a means of exercise, self-discipline and self-defense. 

A lover of words:  Since she was able to talk, the freedom of expression was always a key point in her life.  The spoken word, words that were sung and eventually the written word.  Recently her love of expression and the desire to communicate on an even larger scale led her to the study of the Spanish language.  Although still not perfect, this is now another language of words to choose from as means to express herself.  Words are like butterflies.  They are cocooned until they mature to full thoughts and sentiments and then long to be set free and to share their beauty with the world.


PARA SIEMPRE

Mientras que yo sea de esta tierra
Un latido aun dentro de mi corazón
Ya sea de cerca o de lejos
Siempre habrá alguien que te ama
Corazón y alma, más que la vida misma

Pero cuando mi tiempo aquí ha terminado
Si es para el cielo que yo vuelo
Habrá un ángel que velara por ti
Voy a ser el parpadeo de la luz desde lo alto

Pero si en el cielo no me quieren
Si es el fuego que me llama a casa
Voy a ser el soplo de calor sobre tu cuello
Que sientes cuando estás solo
La brisa tibia en la espalda
Que siempre te mantiene cálido




TATUADO


La vida deja que marca todos los tamaños y formas
Algunos son difíciles de ver y algunos que notan a simple vista

Algunos son de naturaleza y algunos son a mano
Algunos son deliberada y algunos son por casualidad


El águila en el hombro es la libertad que anhelan
El Ying Yang a continuación es la esperanza me largo para ahorrar


El de mi rodilla es de una caída en la tercera
es una línea quebrada de lado a lado

El de mi pantorrilla realmente duele,
pero oh qué un paseo


La cola del delfín en mi espalda comenzó como un escape
que me llevan a encontrar el amor verdadero

La paz os añoro brilla el sol
ingeniosamente descrito justo arriba


La cicatriz en mi alma está viva pero ensconced
Se dejó por mi juventud robada

El símbolo en mi cadera se asemeja a una mariposa en vuelo
Es un recordatorio de la verdad

La cicatriz en mi corazón recuerda que te has ido
Conmovedor y permanente, como las palabras de una canción

El diseño en el estómago es el fuego y las palabras
Consumido por la pasión y la llama es donde pertenezco.


Lo que me mantiene después de tantas marcas
Es la esperanza y la luz que veo en ti

Es el deseo de conocer el quién o el qué
Eso será diseñar el próximo tatuaje





Biografía

Jill-Michele Lewis nació abril 1969 en Florida. Aunque salió de Miami para continuar su educación, su amor por el mar la trajo de vuelta a Miami. No importa lo lejos que viaje o viva ... Nunca estará demasiado lejos de las costas de la Florida.

A ella le encanta el deporte; softbol, ​​natación, correr, cualquier y todas las formas de ejercicio (aunque sus dos pies izquierdos le impiden bailar nada más que una influencia muy lento) y sin lugar a dudas jugara cualquier deporte que requiera de una raqueta. Ella practica artes marciales, Tae Kwon Do y jiu-jitsu, como una forma de ejercicio, la autodisciplina y la autodefensa.

Amante de las palabras: Desde que era capaz de hablar, la libertad de expresión siempre fue un punto clave en su vida. La palabra hablada, las palabras que se cantaban y, finalmente, la palabra escrita. Recientemente su amor por la expresión y el deseo de comunicarse en una escala aún mayor la llevó al estudio de la lengua española. Aunque todavía no es perfecto, este es ahora otro lenguaje de palabras para elegir como medio para expresarse. Las palabras son como las mariposas. Están en capullo hasta que maduran a pensamientos y sentimientos completos que luego ansían ser puestas en libertad, para compartir su belleza con el mundo.

Wednesday, June 22, 2016

Happy Hunters


Years ago, my friend Teresa and I took her then 15 year old son, Robbie, to kayak the Johnstone Strait in British Columbia. We had two desires: to see Orcas and to see a Spirit Bear. Orcas we saw in abundance, once so close it was nearly heart-stopping. And we saw a black bear, but not a Spirit Bear, the unique white subspecies of the black bear.


Here's a link to more information on Kermode, the Inuit name for the rare white bear. This is a quote from BearLife.org:

"Due to their special color and rarity, the kermode bear is revered by local Native American culture. They are referred to as the spirit bear or ghost bear. According to Native American legend, the spirit bear is a reminder of times past, specifically the white color of ice and snow. The master of the universe created one white bear for every ten black bears as a reminder of the hardships during the ice age. During this period glaciers and cold blanketed the planet. The spirit bear also symbolizes peace and harmony."

The odd-looking bear killed by a hunter last month is finally identified.
A week or so ago, I saw the story about hunters killing what they thought was a cross between a polar bear and a grizzly bear. My first thought was they had killed a Spirit Bear. It turns out, according this article, that they had "harvested" a blonde grizzle bear.
Odd-looking bear killed by hunter isn’t a grolar or pizzly after all  

I'll leave it to you to be sickened or not. 

Spirit Bear video 

Sunday, June 12, 2016

Where do all the Horses go?

My novel, The Outside of a Horse, was published six years ago. It's the story of a daughter's struggle to help her war veteran father deal with his wounds through their shared love of horses. It met with some success and though it was a Scholastic Book Fair selection, the publisher decided it was too dark for middle-grade readers, and would not be of interest to the dystopian-loving, vampire-reading, age-appropriate, young adult audience. It never came out as a more affordable trade paperback.

Doggy-Dog World: Dystopia & Utopia

Premarin: The horses, the drugs, the women | TUESDAY'S HORSEI don't write for the fun of it. I write to inform. There are millions of animals living real dystopian lives: Captive dolphins and Orcas, chimpanzees in research, elephants is circuses, dogs in puppy mills and research facilities, and thousands of horses--like Premarin mares. (The hormone replacement drug Premarin is made from Pregnant Mare Urine.)

This article from USA Today makes it clear nothing has changed. When I was researching The Outside of a Horse, the number of horses slaughtered annually was 100,000. It's now 150,000. The number of organizations that rescue them has also increased, but there are too few and the few there are are always strapped for funds. This USA Today story is about a guy who makes his living either selling horses to slaughterhouses, mostly in Mexico, or ransoming them. If you've got the stomach, it's below.


"The USDA tracks horses that are shipped to Canada and Mexico but does not identify the reasons for the export, which could range from slaughter to sales to equestrians.The numbers indicate the(US) slaughter ban only shifted the industry: In 2006, when the United States still housed slaughterhouses, about 36,000 equines crossed into Canada and Mexico. Those numbers have steadily ticked up, and in 2014, more than 105,000 horses crossed the southern border while 45,000 went north."

picture by Patty Joslyn at the Circle of Horses   






Circle of Horses

What can you do? Donate to an Equine therapy center, or one of the many rescue facilities. And if you are post-menopausal, DON'T USE PREMARIN as your replacement hormone drug.




Bodybuilding Couple Starved, Abused Horses - SuperiorMuscle.com ...