Holy Apostles Soup Kitchen

Archive for June, 2012|Monthly archive page

The Room in my Mind

In Prose, Stories, secrets & dreams on June 29, 2012 at 11:30 am
A special place where I live in my mind. It is a small room where I store all of my armour to protect myself, before I leave that place in my mind.
In this room I live alone, just me, myself and I. I keep a Do Not Disturb sign on the door because when i’m thinking, I need to know what my subconscious mind is requiring of me.
Within this room in my mind. I keep the helmet of salvation to protect my thinking. The breast plate of righteousness to protect my emotions. The girdle of truth, so that i’ll know how to respond in truth. The feet shod of the preparation of the gospel, so that i’ll know how to share the gospel. Before I lock the door of my room, I also put on the sword of the Spirit in my right hand, and above all take in the shield of Faith.

When I reenter my room at the end of the day, I put all of my armour that I need in order to get through a day in a special corner of my mind, until I am required to venture out of my room into the world…

Shirley Cook

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Summer 2012 Writers’ Workshop

In Uncategorized on June 26, 2012 at 4:33 pm

For the first time at Holy Apostles Soup Kitchen, the Writers’ Workshop will be continuing through the summer! All are welcome, and we’ll be continuing to post new material every Food for the Soul Friday. The Workshop commenced on June 6 and will meet  on the following Wednesdays:

June 27

July 11

July 18

Please note we will not meet July 4th.

Feel free to join us for as many sessions as you can!

Space

In Prose on June 22, 2012 at 11:37 am

Space is a vacuum. Space is vast compared to our world Earth. In space there is no oxygen and there are no G-forces and there are no air molecules, which means there’s no sound. Space is so vast that the space between galaxies is light years apart. In other words, space is measured by distance and time. When you observe the nighttime sky, some of the stars that you see actually died out millions of light years ago – the light from the star that has previously died is still traveling. So by the time you see the light of a perished star, it’s million of light years later. Believe it or not you’re actually looking into the past, and that’s just one dimension of space.

Leo

Seeking Happiness

In Guest stories, Love on June 15, 2012 at 11:00 am

All my life I just wanted to be happy. Being happy was a hard thing for me. I tried to find happiness in a lot of different ways. I thought money would make me happy. I never could earn enough money to keep me happy. I thought owning a lot of stuff would make me happy. The more I owned, the more I wanted to own.

I thought pretty women would make me happy. Too much work – some pretty women can be a lot more work than I can handle. (I’ll let the workaholics handle the pretty women.) White collar jobs, pretty sports cars, and nice clothes didn’t help either.

The only thing that brought me real happiness was being a daddy. I had never known this level of happiness until my kids were born. Kids are definitely a blessing. I can still remember holding my firstborn son when he was only three minutes old, and watching my oldest daughter taking her first steps and walking toward me.

Even today, the blessings are still coming. My second-oldest son just got married last week. Thank you, God, for making me a father. Now I know true happiness.

Jeff Brantley

#6

In Prose on June 8, 2012 at 11:30 am

She wore many faces. She practiced them in the mirror. She posed – she dressed the part, whatever the part might be – until her body’s stance felt authentic. She shifted from one leg to another. She placed a finger against her cheek with a fake smile, like Betty Boop. She wasn’t sure which face she liked best, but certainly her angry face – fiercely angry, when really she was happy – was one of her favorites.

She left the mirror, the comfort of her home, the bed strewn with an assortment of outfits and a bathroom counter with combs, brushes, ribbons, her clips of different shapes and colors – and ventured outside, having decided that today she would be Hazel lexington, a stripper by day, a law student at night. The fact that she was actually a middle-aged receptionist at a life insurance company in Chelsea did not faze her – did not influence her new identity. She was on vacation and could use the time however she wanted.

After all, yesterday she had been Sister Mary Margaret of the Divine Face and Hands, and jingled large rosary beads and wore a large wooden ruler in the sash of her long black garb.  She had shouted more fire and brimstone than imaginable at anyone who bought cigarettes at the newsstand on West 4th Street, until she was driven away by the vendor, who threatened her with police. She considered standing her ground, being arrested and lacking ID, going through the system, but she had plans for that evening. Plans to be Glow – a nightwalker along Tenth Avenue – and needed the time to change clothes and put on mascara. So, with regret, she abandoned the newsstand, but not without a final flare of indignation and condemnation.

It was not that her life has been in any way boring; it was more that despite its spicy diversity, she was bored with it. She had a tendency ti wander from one job to another, to cut her hair then let it grow, to gain friends and just as quickly lose them. She found that on most Wednesdays she loved hot dogs, but on Thursdays she hated them. Although soap operas appealed to her one day she detested them another, and instead preferred the operas from the Met. She suffered from restless leg syndrome, GERD, lactose intolerance, photophobia, constipation, and anything else she had gleaned from Dr. Oz.

She vacillated between black tea, green tea and red tea, but in the end usually stayed with some ordinary deli coffee taken light and sweet.

When out and moving at a frenetic pace fueled by caffeine and a generalized anxiety disorder, it was not unusual for her to bump into someone who stopped short in front of her, or for a rushing pedestrian to step on her foot. She waxed angry and indignant, put-upon and in pain, but all the while was secretly happy. There was something about the cumbersome hustle and bustle, the inadvertent piling up of human traffic at the corners and its inevitable crushing of toes, the scrapes and scratches from manicured nails vying for a grip in the subway cars, hat delighted her, that caused inner peals of laughter to rumble her stomach – a stomach not without an inclination toward excessive acid and bleeding ulcers.

She couldn’t determine for sure the source of her delight, but imagined it had something to do with feeling fully alive. Something to do with a long-ago dream of leaving Madison, Wisconsin and its endless logs of cheddar cheese, and coming to New York City starstruck, despite the harangues of her mother that she didn’t have it in her to really leave, and of her father that she wouldn’t last a week.

She had looked to her sister Mary Kate for some weigh-in on the situation – some encouragement or support or belief. She remembered how Mary Kate had rustled up a frown, glared an angry face at her, but had secretly been happy.

Annie Quintano

Made You Laugh

In Stories, secrets & dreams on June 1, 2012 at 12:30 pm

My sense of humour kept me from my sorrows. I felt like improvising and ad-libbing, going with the moment – and laughing was good for the abdomen. It is exercise, because the stomach goes up and down, like Mrs. Claus’ from the North Pole. It is called playful yoga, full of jolly time, and it always makes the day go faster. Perhaps a nervous way of showing my feelings. Even making funny faces at my baby. His expression is very catchy. It is contagious in a good way.

In a small group or a large group – it can be a night out with some friends, enjoying a Saturday night – you can play a game of charades, with different expressions for the characters while describing them. Magic tricks or stunts would add to the experience. It is a natural high, and your brain will love you the next day. It can make any game more enjoyable, even a serious one like chess. Clowning and juggling at a birthday party, or a funeral, is good for the body, mind and soul. Add some makeup to the eyes, get a crazy wild wig, and put some Dracula teeth in – why not, to spice things up? You could forget your troubles in no time. Being sober or drinking can add some life to the boring moments. Cheering people on and clapping can reinforce the good times shared. Relationships and tranquility will strengthen, and phones will be ringing off the hook. Once-unpopular suddenly becomes the life of the party, and memories will last a lifetime.

 

Gayle Dorsky