Clear About Being

Let me be very clear…

Clear about being

Amalia Rebecca Maloney Del Riego…

All those names are me

I am a writer, singer, traveler, consultant human-being

A female, human-being, actually

I like to love and to express myself by doing things I love

Sometimes I write, other times I sing

In magical unseen ways, always traveling and praying

I also love being loved

Things I do are for the pure experiencing

Not just an end-result that may be produced

I like to think that we are human-beings

Being what we love

being love

Loving beings

 

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The Rose Bush and the Trellis

Recently I was enjoying myself at the Denver Botanic Gardens. The bench I was sitting on was in the rose garden area and across from me was a beautiful, tall wooden trellis. Below the trellis was a large rose-bush bursting with white and pink roses in full bloom. Every now and then, their fragrance was carried on the wind to caress my face and delight my nose. The trellis and the rose-bush were anchored separately, only to morph together, the rose-bush growing elegantly up the symmetrical beams of the trellis that rose handsomely with purposeful design. It was a gift to sit there and take in such beauty with a variety of my senses.

This gift from nature led to another gift…a little lesson that came to me in the form of an analogy. I thought to myself that in life, some people are like a trellis. They are built to be strong and tall in their outwardly appearance and structure, with steady attributes in the eyes of many. What they are made of is solid and anchored into the ground for a secure position grounded with purpose. And what is that purpose? To uphold and to encourage growth. Are you following me so far?

Some people in the world are like a rose-bush…in the eyes of the world, they grow with sporadic design and beauty, providing talents and gifts of the arts. Their roots seem to go deep in a more natural manner, while the budding of their roses is unpredictable and intense. For many, they are a delight to the senses in a variety of ways.

Both the trellis and the rose bush can do without each other, yes. It is for this reason that they are each enhanced, complimented and beautified immensely when they come together. Think of when you last saw an anchored strong, towering trellis with the liveliness of green-leafed tendrils dotted with bursts of silky, fragrant roses, embracing each other…

Intertwined, they give of each other to each other, wonderfully by being who they are. The result is something even more incredible and beautiful than what they are on their own. Each hold infinite value and importance on their own, yes…yet combined, they only grow and expand with the exchange of steadfast, uplifting support and colorful adoration of roses clinging. They accept each other with an intimacy that causes each to be vulnerable to the other.

Now of course, the question is…which are you? A rose-bush or a trellis? Perhaps this will enter your mind the next time you are in the magical company of a rose bush and a trellis.

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Loved by Every Season…

I absolutely love this song…heavenly piano and beautifully touching lyrics. I hope you enjoy it today and the power of its message, every day.

Lyrics:

Every evening sky an invitation

To trace the pattern stars

And early in July a celebration

For freedom that is ours

And I notice you in children’s games

In those who watch them from the shade

Every drop of sun is full of fun and wonder

You are summer…

And even when the trees when just surrendered

To the harvest timeForfeiting their leaves in mid-September

And sending us inside

Still I notice you when change begins

And I am braced for colder winds

I will offer thanks for what has been and what’s to come

You are autumn…

And everything in time and under heaven

Finally falls asleep

Wrapped in blankets white all creation

Shivers underneath

And still I notice you when branches crack

And in my breath on frosted glass

Even now in death you open doors for life to enter

You are winter…

And everything that’s new has bravely surfaced

Teaching us to breathe

What was frozen through is newly purposed

Turning all things green

So it is with you and how you make me new

With every season’s change

And so it will be as you are recreating me

Summer, autumn, winter…

Spring…

Swing Dancing the Night Away!

Just for fun, I wanted to ask if you would vote on your favorite version of this photo taken of me and my dance partner Andy. We tore up the dance floor at the 1940’s Ball that recently took place at the Boulder Airport in Boulder, Colorado. I have to give appreciation and credit to Andy, because to really enjoy swing dancing and look good, the man has to know how to dance and be a great leader…and he is both of those things as a swing dancer, a great gentleman and kind friend. And as you can see, he’s tall and great at stunts! Andy, thanks for a great time.

See the different versions below and visit the album link to my page to vote in the comments box.

Swing Dancing the Night Away!

 

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What First

So many things on my precious mind

Sporadic and jumbled it feels

What do I start with?

Where do I begin?

What first?

From my long, long list

Do I veer towards productivity?

Yet how is productivity defined?

Or do I drop all things to do nothing?

Being still and quiet inside

I find myself gravitate towards writing

Wanting to release through words on the page

Is this what I start with?

Is this where I begin?

Is first?

Taking care of me is where I begin

Writing is sometimes what I may do

Perhaps singing will at times express me best

While being still and doing nothing also works

First things first

Perhaps I need to rest

 

Am I A Storyteller or a Writer?

It dawned on me this morning that perhaps there is a difference between being a writer and being a storyteller. I realize, it also depends on a person’s perspective and I saw this question in my mind as a new lesson for me to learn. I don’t believe it is necessarily relevant or applicable to everyone.

But for me it made sense and it’s shedding some light Continue reading

Words, Words, Words…

I search my head and creative space,

Hoping to conjure up new ways to relate.

But words escape me, I’ve used them all before,

There’s nothing that new or inspirational any more.

“Use fewer” they say, “Too many words is too much.”

But then the picture is bland and ugly to touch.

And even the few words that I use,

They have no patience to hear…

How can they listen when they hardly see.

For words can combine like colors on a canvas,

To paint a story like a painting that never stops telling.

But I realize this, I must open my own eyes,

And remember that there are those who appreciate art

And those who keep on walking by.