Symbol

Our traditions, the culture, believes, the people are the symbol that define a country. For Puerto Rico these are some.

This post was inspired by Photo Challenge: Symbol

Happy writings


Weekly Photo Challenge: Growth of a Monach Butterfly

May the wings of the butterfly kiss the sun And find your shoulder to light on, To bring you luck, happiness and riches Today, tomorrow and beyond. ~Irish Blessing

To watch constantly and everyday the miracle of life was a family affair, and inspiring. A moment in our lives we will always remember.

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The butterfly counts not months but moments, and has time enough. ~Rabindranath Tagore

If nothing ever changed, there’d be no butterflies. ~Author Unknown 

And that my friend is GROWTH, for change makes you stronger.

 

Alexandra Román


Primer Círculo Literario del Centro de Estudios Avanzados y del Caribe

CON EVENTO POÉTICO Y LITERARIO

INAUGURA EL CÍRCULO LITERARIO DEL CEAPRC

 San Juan, P.R. 12 de abril de 2011: El Círculo Literario del Centro de Estudios Avanzados de Puerto Rico y el Caribe (CEAPRC) invita al público a su primer evento literario, que se llevará a cabo el próximo sábado, 16 de abril de 2011 desde las 3:00 p.m. en la Institución universitaria.

La primera actividad es una conferencia magistral titulada Derechos de autor dictada por el Lcdo. Eduardo Vera, especialista en dicho tema e inicia a las 3:00 p.m. Es la primera vez que este coloquio se ofrece de forma gratuita. El licenciado Vera es socio fundador de la Editorial Pasadizo y autor del libro de cuentos Crucificciones.

Mientras que a las 6:00 p.m. dará inicio la lectura poética Julia de Burgos a cien años de tu ruta a cargo del cineasta Jacobo Morales, la primera actriz Iris Martínez, el locutor y declamador David Ortiz-Angleró, la poeta Mayda Colón, el escritor Emilio del Carril y la cantante Luna. Asimismo, se presentará una parte del largometraje Julia toda en mí de la cineasta y escritora Ivonne Belén.

Ambas actividades son libres de costo y son en el Centro de Estudios Avanzados de Puerto Rico y el Caribe. Estos eventos forman parte de la apertura del primer Círculo literario del CEAPRC. Esta organización está dirigida por Emilio del Carril, quien funge como Vicepresidente del Pen Club de Puerto Rico.

El Centro de Estudios Avanzados de Puerto Rico y el Caribe es una institución académica a nivel graduado. Con programas académicos de Maestría en Arqueología, Estudios Puertorriqueños, Historia y Literatura y Doctorados en Historia y Literatura.

El Centro fue fundado por el Dr. Ricardo Alegría, historiador y antropólogo puertorriqueño, hace 33 años y está ubicado en el Viejo San Juan, Puerto Rico. 

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CONTACTO DE MEDIOS:

Emilio del Carril • 787.649.1281


Sang Christmas Words

Lost in the season I will be, inmersed in the loving blessing of my family. Hughed by love and lighted by lovable smiles and cheerful laughter.

Thankful for a celebration that is welcome with incense and sounds of bells and prayers.

The floors of my family room will be decorated by torn wrapping paper and empty boxes, half empty cups of coquito lay on top of the dinning table and the blue frost lights of the Christmas tree will light our joy.

An image of what might be I leave you with, not before saying Merry Christmas to Thee, and songs of ‘Parrandas‘ from me to you. So click on these links for Chritmas Words sang for this season of joy.

Enjoy and have a Merry jolly and blessed Christmas! God bless you!


“A frozen tear”

 

 

I just enjoyed reading this poem by William Thomas, it is deep and touches the core of the soul. Enjoy and hope you think in this season of love of those who spend it in solitude.

A Frozen Tear


By William Thomas©

Winter in Kodiak, a time of little light.
The snow brightens the ground and the stars light up the night.
A cluster of Spruce sag deep, a drift in front of my car.
My heart weighs heavy. Thoughts of relatives afar.
A blustery wind blows, north then south.
A cold winter thirst, warm java for my mouth.
A homeless man sleeps, all bundled in clothes.
His heart deep with thoughts of past Christmas woes.
A handshake, a smile, a sip of my coffee.
A friend in waiting, I became to he.
Some food from the shelter, a warm place to rest.
His life for the moment, felt happy and blessed.
He told me the stories of days long ago.
My full attention, he required, to him I happily bestowed.
A veteran of the war, a father of four.
A long distance call seemed to matter no more.
The blanket of stars and the snow under his feet,
only brought back memories of a scar so deep.
A story from my life, I understood his loss.
To spend Christmas without family, there’s no greater cost.
One more handshake. A “man-hug” goodbye.
His face looked of worry, wondered if I would be back tonight.
A job in Kodiak sometimes is so rare.
But I am happy to tell you, where I work is here.
A smile, a thought, the lending of an ear.
A thousand times more helpful than a frozen tear.


Stories, one of fun and the other of love

Short Funny Christmas Story 

Just before Christmas, an honest politician, a generous lawyer and Santa Claus got into the lift (elevator) at the Ritz Hotel in London. As the lift travelled from the 5th floor down to the ground level, one-by-one they noticed a £50 note lying on the lift’s floor.

Which one picked up the £50 note, and handed it in at reception?

Santa of course, the other two don’t actually exist!


Christmas is for love

Author unknown

Christmas is for love. It is for joy, for giving and sharing, for laughter, for reuniting with family and friends, for tinsel and brightly decorated packages. But mostly, Christmas is for love. I had not believed this until a small elf-like student with wide-eyed innocent eyes and soft rosy cheeks gave me a wondrous gift one Christmas.

Mark was an 11 year old orphan who lived with his aunt, a bitter middle aged woman greatly annoyed with the burden of caring for her dead sister’s son. She never failed to remind young Mark, if it hadn’t been for her generosity, he would be a vagrant, homeless waif. Still, with all the scolding and chilliness at home, he was a sweet and gentle child.

I had not noticed Mark particularly until he began staying after class each day (at the risk of arousing his aunt’s anger, I later found) to help me straighten up the room. We did this quietly and comfortably, not speaking much, but enjoying the solitude of that hour of the day. When we did talk, Mark spoke mostly of his mother. Though he was quite small when she died, he remembered a kind, gentle, loving woman, who always spent much time with him.

As Christmas drew near however, Mark failed to stay after school each day. I looked forward to his coming, and when the days passed and he continued to scamper hurriedly from the room after class, I stopped him one afternoon and asked why he no longer helped me in the room. I told him how I had missed him, and his large gray eyes lit up eagerly as he replied, “Did you really miss me?”

I explained how he had been my best helper. “I was making you a surprise,” he whispered confidentially. “It’s for Christmas.” With that, he became embarrassed and dashed from the room. He didn’t stay after school any more after that.

Finally came the last school day before Christmas. Mark crept slowly into the room late that afternoon with his hands concealing something behind his back. “I have your present,” he said timidly when I looked up. “I hope you like it.” He held out his hands, and there lying in his small palms was a tiny wooden box.

“Its beautiful, Mark. Is there something in it?” I asked opening the top to look inside. ”

“Oh you can’t see what’s in it,” He replied, “and you can’t touch it, or taste it or feel it, but mother always said it makes you feel good all the time, warm on cold nights, and safe when you’re all alone.”

I gazed into the empty box. “What is it Mark,” I asked gently, “that will make me feel so good?” “It’s love,” he whispered softly, “and mother always said it’s best when you give it away.” And he turned and quietly left the room.

So now I keep a small box crudely made of scraps of wood on the piano in my living room and only smile as inquiring friends raise quizzical eyebrows when I explain to them that there is love in it.

Yes, Christmas is for gaiety, mirth and song, for good and wondrous gifts. But mostly, Christmas is for love.

The “W” in Christmas                                                      
                                                                           
Last December, I vowed to make Christmas a calm and peaceful experience.   I had cut back on nonessential obligations – extensive card writing, endless baking, decorating, and even overspending. Yet still, I found myself exhausted, unable to appreciate the precious family moments, and of course, the true meaning of Christmas.       
     
My son, Nicholas, was in kindergarten that year. It was an exciting season for a six year old. For weeks, he’d been memorizing songs for his school’s “Winter Pageant.”  I didn’t have the heart to tell him I’d be working the night of the production. Unwilling to miss his shining moment, I spoke with his teacher.  She assured me there’d be a dress rehearsal the morning of the presentation.  All parents unable to attend that evening were welcome to come then.  Fortunately, Nicholas seemed happy with the compromise. 
                 
So, the morning of the dress rehearsal, I filed in ten minutes early,  found a spot on the cafeteria floor and sat down. Around the room, I saw  several other parents quietly scampering to their seats. As I waited, students were led into the room. Each class, accompanied by their teacher, sat cross-legged on the floor. Then, each group, one by one, rose to perform their song. Because the public school system had long stopped referring to the holiday as “Christmas,” I didn’t expect anything other than fun, commercial    entertainment – songs of reindeer, Santa Claus, snowflakes and good cheer.

So, when my son’s class rose to sing, “Christmas Love,” I was slightly taken aback by its bold title. Nicholas was aglow, as were all of his classmates, adorned in fuzzy mittens, red sweaters, and bright snowcaps upon their heads.  Those in the front row- center stage – held up large letters, one by one, to spell out the title of the song. As the class would sing “C is for Christmas,” a child would hold up the  letter C. Then, “H is for Happy,” and on and on, until each child holding up his portion had presented the complete message, “Christmas Love.” 

The performance was going smoothly, until suddenly, we noticed her; a small, quiet, girl in the front row holding the letter “M” upside down –  totally unaware her letter “M” appeared as a “W”.  The audience of 1st through 6th graders snickered at this little one’s mistake. But she had no idea they were laughing at her, so she stood tall, proudly holding her “W”.  Although many teachers tried to shush the children, the laughter continued until the last letter was raised, and we all saw it together.  A hush came over the audience and eyes began to widen. In that instant, we understood the reason we were there, why we celebrated the holiday in the first place, why even in the chaos, there was a purpose for our  festivities. For when the last letter was held high, the message read loud and clear: 

C H R I S T   W A S   L O V E”  
  
And, I believe, He still is.