Story Book

When asked recently what my story is; the following broad picture came to mind and includes the bare necessities of my narration, the nuts and bolts and basic big picture of my simple and not so simple story.                                                                                                          My story is one that reflects love, hate, happiness, a broken heart, tears of joy, sorrow, dark days and the brightest most beautiful nights. It includes a suffering humanity to the sublime innocence of the child within us all.  My story has been told by many through the ages seasoned by the comedies and tragedies life bears from the mundane and mediocre to the spectacular nature of experiencing miracles as the best and worst of life goes on. It is a story book filled with tales of epic proportion, heart warming at once subtle, mighty forged through fiery days to triumphant times I wished would never end. 

My story weaves in and out of yours and I am humbled, grateful and better for the wear and tear as I am armed with beautiful blessings, to play forward for the rest of my life ~

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Language

The question was posed regarding language and why everyone in every near or far reaching corner of the world doesn't speak only one language. The answers are found at the core of human experience historically, in culture, climate, geographical and environmental variance, in collective and individual stories politically charged, motivated by religion or simply due to the law and practice of the land.

Humankind however does speak one language of universal similarity it is the language of LOVE. The language that expresses compassion, kindness, emotions and feelings that words often fail to adequately convey. To describe what the heart knows can only completely be shared by a commonality that humanity has been gifted with since time untold. Set in place far and wide, vast nations, tiny villages, cosmopolitan places of progressive movement or humble locations tucked-away underneath thick forest canopies, indigenous, rich or scarce of resources. 

Loves language is saturated in respect, gentle, soft, strong, caring, can heal a broken heart or a battered bruised and bent body. The spoken or unspoken natural virtue of love in all it's glory shines brightly lit by the perpetual heart light even when dimmed can be reignited, revved-up and revived brought about in a little glow or big blaze.

The soul longs to explain itself without uttering a word to live a peaceful existence. How wonderful is the language of love, modest, magnificent, unwavering in it's most innocent and purest form, undisturbed by hesitance or reluctance to risk sharing what is profoundly craved and truest to our innermost being. To understand the best language known is to simply share what we know will feed and satisfy malnourished humanity starving for the optimal kind of clean food nutrient rich with a quality that addresses the mind, heart and soul, yes, it is the language of love.
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What You Have Within ~

A wise woman who was traveling in the mountains found a precious stone in a stream. The next day she met another traveler who was hungry, and the wise woman opened her bag to share her food. The hungry traveler saw the precious stone and asked the woman to give it to him. She did so without hesitation.  The traveler left, rejoicing in his good fortune.  He knew the stone was worth enough to give him security for a lifetime.  But a few days later he came back to return the stone to the wise woman. "I've been thinking," he said, "I know how valuable the stone is, but I give it back in the hope that you can give me something even more precious.  Give me what you have within you that enabled you to give me the stone."

" The Wise Woman's Stone"

Author Unknown

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Forget Me Not

How could we ever forget, nor would we want to not remember the great spirit of twin brother, Mark Allen Joseph & dear mother, Marian "Sparky". The question is of course rhetorical as thoughts and longing for the precious, dear and gone from us remain strong and vivid. The meshing of memories and dreams prevail serving to remind us of your absence. Every little detail, the seasons and times of our lives we shared weave in and out of my memory bank as clearly as the moments they occurred.

The love, the connection, the goodness of you does not dissipate. The heart ache is equal to the great heartedness associated with everything we miss about Mark and Mother, Marian "Sparky". All the occasions that made us the people we were and continue to become linger-on like the sound of a favorite song. The evolution of my life includes the good days and dark days, the exciting and excruciating moments we knew would pass and become part of our past but very much inscribed into our future. It is humbling to realize you are still present in a way that keeps you alive in my own soul.

During these holidays I long to see your beautiful smiles, to hear your good humor and feel your sweet embrace. I hold on to the love, the special and mundane times and I offer gratitude for past Christmas's we shared filled with all the special, simple and wonderful ways we expressed our love and loyalty to one another. I lift you up in everything good and grace-filled and I am so thankful for you still very much a part of this life of mine, that was part of yours while you were here.
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They're Grrreat!

When we were kid's as I recall; what brand of cereal to buy could get controversial. 

One person may have wanted Cocoa Puffs and somebody else wanted Rice Crispies. Mom kept it simple and bought either Corn Flakes or Cheerios and sometimes a box of Pop Tarts was nice when we could just pop one of those little crusty pockets of sweetness into the toaster. Oatmeal and Cream of Wheat were also a nice hot change of pace on a cold morning before school and we usually wolfed them down so we wouldn't late.

It wasn't until the older kids grew-up and out of the house that us babies of the family would get the green light for the less serious cereal like a super colorful and inviting box of Fruit Loops, Cap'nCrunch or Frosted Flakes, our first choices for a simple breakfast of champions!

Such simpler times when running out of milk was the big tragedy of the day and we only had the original flavor of Maltomeal and not the chocolate. If Nestles Quick powder was in the house and milk was flowing freely, there was nothing better than an ice cold glass of chocolate milk to put a smile on the faces of two children eager to dive into a nice lip smacking round of milky goodness. If it was a Saturday, cartoons, cereal, toast or maybe French toast was served as the sticky syrup was passed around and topped off the bread dipped in the egg mixture and fried to perfection, Mark's favorite. Good memories of basic kid stuff that started our day feeling loved and well taken care of.

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Star Gazers

Summer nights star gazing on a balmy evening, the neighborhood is quiet as we recline on the trunk of mom's car, chicharra's chirping filling the air with the loud and clear sounds of the season. An occasional unhurried car passes by as we shoot the breeze on the ever alert to behold a star dashing, flashing it brilliance across the big sky. The magic of simple moments with a twin who has evolved into the very stuff the stars we watch, are made of. We could not have imagined, we would ever be looking for you in the wild blue yonder.

The indicators are there like the writing on the wall, wide open in the wondrous waning and waxing moon. Even obscured by the city lights, the stars glisten and dance in the darkness only to give way to the beaming sun rising and setting like a priceless painting with colors on fire smoldering into the other side of the world. The butterfly too brings joy, fluttering in plain view, sweet spirited sightings bearing gentle messages of love and life ever after.      *The times we experienced together didn't seem to matter more than life being what it is, what it was and what it will be remembered for.  All the star gazing, hell raising, fussing, fighting, fun, monumental and mundane, every big and little thing remains lingering on in living color. The cherished memory of a lifetime with twin brother, Mark,  how mostly sweet it is! ♥
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Sparkyism's

Sparky

Sparkyism's
- This is the day the Lord has made, let us rejoice and be glad in it! 
- You've got champagne taste on a beer budget.
- Just because everybody jumps off the roof, doesn't mean you have to. 
- I/they, don't give a good tinkers damn. 
- Over my dead body.
- Children should be seen and not heard. 
- Speak when you are spoken to. 
- It takes both rain and sunshine to make a rainbow. 
- Don't be too familiar with people. 
- Muy agusto. 
- Whatever you do be good at it. If you dig ditches or whatever it is, be good at it. 
- Walk tall!
- The Lord will provide.
- He's gonna have to come to the door to get you, honking for you will not work, to my big sisters
  when guy friends came a calling.
- Treat others the way you want to be treated

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Memories, Messages & Brilliant Gems

We walk alone and surrounded by others, is it loneliness or freedom? Is it isolation or solitude? Is it forlorn or nostalgic? It is the tiny sliver of life, those moments of no consequence that made an impact however miniscule or profound, memories that remain locked and loaded in the heart spaces. Memories inlaid like a brilliant gem perfectly set in your core, the location where life's lavishness as well as the harshness of living, lands, unloads, refines and rebuilds with an a sense of urgency and natural desire to replace bitterness with beauty, cruelty with compassion, the darkness with light constantly attempting to recreate a better version of itself. It is a spectacularly simple, a particular alchemy comprised of mangled, jagged rusty heavy metal, it melts into an angel-soft, strong, elegant element. It is precious and powerful, a perfect spot. It is the soul, more resilient and magnificent than a super hero!

Remembering times, someone made you feel so loved or important, special and super good about yourself in any manner? The silver sliver of an experience happened during a time you were not at your best and you felt more compelled to withdraw, lick your wounds maybe wallow in worrisome, brooding thoughts. Out of no where the opportunity to contribute to life with a simple gesture of respect. Someone communicates something kind and thoughtful, a dramatic yet subtle shift occurs, spirits and burdens are lifted that very moment and life is good.

Meanwhile, landmark day's like holiday's, anniversaries and birthdays bring to mind the monumental and quiet days and years past. Sad days, days that last forever and days we wish would never end are almost relived as we lose ourselves in the reverie of our own personal history, the good, grand, bad and ugly.

To translate what my heart wants to emit is like a passionate jazz pianist swaying, moving and grooving, sliding and gliding over the keys, from side to side barely able to contain himself. Almost spastically words pop-up on the surface of the screen letter by letter, words dance into a sentence, ideas, reflective points to be made, a lamentation, messages to share as thoughts hover overhead then plucked from memory banks where the movie trailers and tapes of our lives are screened repeatedly. The fleeting times filled with heart warming, heart wrenching, mind blowing, sweet, sad, rich moments. We can recall every detail (the way we remember it)  as priceless, painful, precious and provocative as life can be.

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Rememberance

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MARK & THE MARKERS!! !!!____________

Mark and the first Marker! Mark aspired to have a band named: Mark & The Markers.
He got his wish!

MARK & THE MARKERS$√👋

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Where You Fit

The puzzle laid bare for us to put together, everyday, everyway.

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Would It Kill You?

Would it kill you to be kind, show some respect be a good example of a human? Would you be weak to show compassion, tenderness and tolerance for those who go against your grain?

Would life be better if you had every little and big thing your heart desires?
Would your heart be brave every time it breaks and mends and bursts and beat to a different drummer like mine? Would you have peace if there were no wars? Would you love if you were not loved in return? Would you give without receiving?

Would you want to rebuild, restart, revive, resuscitate your life in new and uncharted territory if you could? Would living differently than what is familiar, be so bad? Would a second thought, second glance and second chance ever be welcomed? Would the good old days be as good if you could live them all over again? Would you consider changing your mind, rethink your strong opinion at the risk of evolving into a different person you thought you knew very well.
Would you? Just wondering. Our answers, are ours to live with and merely questions posed that you may never be asked again.
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Thank You, Mom

Marian "Sparky" Ipiotis

August 28, 1925 ~ January 30, 2016

THANK YOU, MOM!

Thank you for being the best you could be, as a person, a woman, a mother, grandmother, godmother, friend, relative to many people. You taught us well the meaning of respect, of working hard and cherishing the ones who care for you.

We hold you in our memories like we breathe in the air, we think of you as if you've never left this world. You will remain in the sacred places where our hearts and spirits long to be. We love you more than we could ever adequately convey and we know you championed your children like a mother lion protects her cubs. We love you in the quiet times, happy, lonely times, when laughter roars and tears trickle down our faces.

We hold on to the sound of your smile and the smell of your graciousness. We know you are around in ways that only a mother in heaven can understand and we appreciate your divine appointment and place among the angels and saints who experience life and learned how to move on into a peaceful, powerful, perfect place of privilege. Thank you for every little and big thing you ever did for us and so many others. You made life more livable and lovable. Thank you Mom. We love you.

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Wonder

We wonder about life, the ways and meaning of it. We wonder how life can be so hard for some people and seemly easy for others, so unfair, so beautiful and blessed. How a person can appear larger than life itself while another is barely noticed in fact forgotten or altogether lost in time and space.

We wonder how humans can be so cruel while having the capacity to create such amazing moments. How does one face the day full of despair while another can't wait to take it on. The lines between the darkness and the lines get fuzzy if we allow them to. When times seem hopeless it is best to hold on to hope, to have faith in something, someone beyond the proverbial blue horizon.

Wonder how many times we wonder about such things and then jump back into the game of life as if to ignore the questions at all. Life is good and much more doable when we simply plunge in and take it on. To revel in the goodness and recall the memories and moments that leave us feeling satisfied and complete, renewed and better equipped to handle what life throws at us, instead of wondering too much about the imbalances, the yin and yang, the good and bad, darkness and light.

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Catch A Ride

Life, birth, death from the moment we are born, we sprout from a seed and grow like a weed. If all goes well, we are nurtured like a prize winning flower that has learned to bloom into something beautiful and strong.

A precious child has arrived, welcomed into the world, everyone is  overjoyed with new life. The brand new member of the tribe has come in for a safe landing, while another baby fights to hold on to her life, to breathe without support and go home. Family cannot get close enough to hold her tenderly and tell her how very important and loved she is. The battle is over, it is time to escort a tiny angelic baby to her time of passing as sacred, scathingly painful and life changing as can be. To let a child go physically, to bless them into their next soulful level of existence when you want to hold on for dear, precious life... words  fail to adequately convey such profound pain.

From a soulful place, spirits may never have to let go. We reach out somehow to those who must move on into another realm, another form of existence unsure if they can hear us, feel us, recognize us? We have "survived" our place on this earthly plane while a loved-one takes their leave. We are left with a deep void buried in our hearts when we bury our beloved ones. The love and connection remains it tugs on our heart strings and whispers signals that are revealed in the sweetest most delicate places, in nature and in the epicenter of our own existence. 

No questions, no answers upon acceptance

which shows-up in a subtle understated vehicle. It drives-up preparing you for what you thought was lost through the death of a loved one but ends-up driving you through the undeniable moments you find yourself blindsided with grief to a clear understanding that you have not lost but are part of the place of perfection, peace, power, privilege where you and I want to go some day, when it is our turn to catch a ride into the sunset. It will be a great ride with a great view beyond the horizon beyond anything we imagine, it is where happiness  and harmony, bliss and bountiful blessings with bouquets of flowers that no color, fragrance or  dimensions can quite describe, yet exists and thrives like there is no tomorrow.

EPIC L*O*V*E

Love it or leave it, believe it to achieve it. Love is epic, an essential gift to give and receive.

Over and under inside out, my heart to yours yells, it shouts to the heavens; "Love flies high in the sky with the stars and rests in the chests of angels, on the crest of a sunrise and the powerful quiet sunset, a profoundly important place where strength and weakness dwell!"

Very valuable, the big heart whose structure is strong with a solid gold foundation, sensitive as a delicate snowflake and resilient, steadfast as the weeping willow that sways in a gusty wind.

Extraordinarily excellent is the heart consistently full of soul that harbors compassion, kindness, patience and peace.

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Rise and Fall

To rise to the occasion or fall, to hang your head in defeat, depleted, drained, spent or fortified, renewed, strengthened? We cast our fate to the heavens, hopeful of where it lands or drown in the murky waters of grief, doubt, disappointment and despair. 

Where our life takes us, where we take our life leads to curious turns, unsuspecting challenges. Panoramic views on uncharted paths prove to be perilous as dangerous curves teach invaluable, life changing lessons. The hands of time move at a snails pace as the sand in the hourglass pours through in an instant. Spinning our wheels we don't seem to get anywhere then look up and suddenly realize we have come along way on our journey. 

Do we rise and thrive with the first light of day, fall from grace with the last sliver of light or move in the direction of light armed with a good but war torn heart and good intentions to be better, stronger and wiser than time before?

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Matter

You, me, them, they, us, we matter and are made of matter, minerals, blood, arteries, veins, bones, cells, a heart and soul. Earth, the stars, our moon and sun are made of matter, protons, electrons, neutrons. Various particles that form atoms create elements of life forms, molecules which kind of morph into compounds and creation.

Simple as it is, is just as complex. Time and space wraps around all matter blending all manner of life, art and science. Every manner of existence has it's place, be it dangling in mid air, firmly rooted in the ground or wet as water when hydrogen and oxygen get together.  *The moon's mass consists of various minerals and rocks! The sun is comprised of crazy hot, hotter than hot stuff, meanwhile, the moon light like sun shine is immersed in our precious, fragile, resilient, crazy colossal world and becomes a reflection of us here. It turns out all of us are connected, all of our lives matter ~

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Back To School

The dreaded advertisements and commercials on TV and radio reminding us that school was just a stones throw away from starting another year. Oh joy! School clothes for many years meant uniforms, beige, brown and brown plaid at St Francis Xavier and dark blue & white tiny checkered uniforms at Queen of Heaven.

All the life lessons, mistakes and achievements, learning about the world and out of this world, the excitement of learning to read and write, the challenges of my unique learning style along with our scholastic achievements, the magic of language, literature, history, geography, science, religion and math- oooh my nemesis-math. Back to school- back to formal education, a structured learning environment an atmosphere of curiosity and critical thinking but not too critical, curious, controversial, provocative nor inappropriate as conformity made for smoother school day's and easier crowd control while fostering a wholesome and respectful educational experience for all.

My mind wandered, paying attention was precarious and I often yearned to be anywhere else but in the class room, I yearned to be anybody else but me. I went on my own journey in the middle of the group trail and ventured off the beaten path. I noticed things in the pages and chapters of our books that everybody including the teacher seemed to over look but I learned enough and then some, to propel me into the next grade and keep up with you and your lighting-fast tutorials that kept me up to speed in a language I could understand clearly.

Sports came naturally on the other hand and was a great diversion from the confines of the classroom, an alternative way to be excellent if not with fractions and participles then with the dynamics, rules and regulations of sports, of particular interest to us and an exciting outlet to excel in. The allure of "the thrill of victory, the agony of defeat", the playing field seemed more level in organized competitive athletics. It was all there, the camaraderie, sportsmanship, the discipline, fun, physicality and satisfaction of winning after all the practice, training, effort, time and energy involved.

School was a mixed bag of memorable great days to days where I thought I died and gone to hell due to school work or adult and peer pressure to be normal and fit-in regarding grades, behavior, clothes, attitude and overall status quo. It was a hell of a time, a big part of our lives as twins who grew up together and shared the crazy, amazing school days. We learned a lot inside the classroom and outside about many subjects including people. We grew-up together and grew a part but always seemed to find our way back for commentary on the latest happenings in our lives, sports, music, current events, places or other mutual points of interest.
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Dream The Impossible

Life's journey, the quest for liberty, freedom from oppression, unrest, desperation,  highs, lows, losses, triumphs, tragedies, hopes, aspirations, disappointments are taken on by Miguel de Cervantes as he transforms into Alonso Quijana then Don Quixote de La Mancha, accompanied by loyal companion, Sancho Panza.

Trouble is encountered, the horizon blurred as the castle's innkeeper "The Governor" tells Don Quixote what he wants to hear, meanwhile Dulcinea's rough edges melt into silk and lace then bloodied and battered by injustice for helping The Man of La Mancha, who only see's her as eternal beauty defined and needing defense against a cruel world.

Not the threat of a renegade band of Gypsies, the opposition and constant threat of The Enchanter nor a Knight of the Mirrors, not even The Spanish Inquisition can diminish visions of such grandiose measure.  Devotion and resolve to love and cherish to protect is unstoppable only adding to the possibilities, the illusions of life regardless of the raw reality. The depth and height of hope, the determination and will to see beyond the scathing harshness of it all. It is possible to stand tall, start fresh, begin again and again, to imagine and see only the best most beautiful, brightest and precious, without hesitation.

Yes, dream and hope and wish and conspire to share the vision, the very warm tender and powerful prayers with the ones who mean the most, the ones who lift us up, who walk along side of us, who reflect our bold blind love in the middle of darkness and ultimately believe the truth of our dreams and wishes that somehow, somewhere do occur by means of our own design. *Dream sweet dreams, the impossible and improbable, imagine your heart happy, fulfilled as an awesome dream come true.

"Impossible Dream"

To dream the impossible dream
To fight the unbeatable foe
To bear with unbearable sorrow
And to run where
the brave dare not go
To right the unrightable wrong
And to love pure and chaste from afar
To try when your arms are too weary
To reach the unreachable star
This is my quest
To follow that star
No matter how hopeless
No matter how far
To fight for the right
Without question or pause
To be willing to march,
march into hell
For that heavenly cause
And I know
If I'll only be true
To this glorious quest
That my heart
Will lie peaceful and calm
When I'm laid to my rest
And the world will be
better for this
That one man, scorned
and covered with scars,
Still strove with his last
ounce of courage
To reach the unreachable,
the unreachable,
The unreachable star
And I'll always dream
The impossible dream
Yes, and I'll reach
The unreachable star

~ Joe Darion  

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