Five Minute Friday: Commutual

Large blue book - Webster's New Universal Unabridged Dictionary - with small post-it-note pad and a pen.

(So, I’ve been participating in a “writers’ flash mob” of sorts called Five Minute Friday. In response to a one-word prompt, hundreds of writers sit down and write for five minutes flat. No extreme editing; no worrying about perfect grammar, font or punctuation; unscripted and unedited. Here’s today’s edition…setting the timer….)

Five Minute Friday: Commutual

Go.

This week’s one word prompt is not really “commutual.”

There actually IS no specific prompt other than “choose your own.”

What to do?

Here’s what I did.

I grabbed our super-giant dictionary, opened it at random and pointed to a word.

The word was “fumariaceous.”

Um…OK.

So let’s try this again. (There are no real rules to this, remember.)

This time, the word turned out to be “commutual” – an archaic adjective that means “mutual” or “reciprocal.”

As we speed along to the close of another year, it is a pretty darn good word (albeit it an archaic and underused one.)

‘Cause you know what?

LIFE IS COMMUTUAL.

Bottom line – we are in this together.

We can talk about individual rights and preferences and goals.

But underneath it all, we need each other and every single thing we do affects others.

LIFE IS COMMUTUAL.

Random word?

You bet.

But also fitting for the final “Five Minute Friday” of 2015.

Here’s hoping it is a word that gets some use in 2016.

Stop.

p.s. – because I know you are wondering…“fumariaceous” means “belonging to the plant family Fumariaceae.” Apparently this plant family is related to poppies and to bleeding hearts.

Five Minute Friday: Reflect

(So, I’ve been participating in a “writers’ flash mob” of sorts called Five Minute Friday. In response to a one-word prompt, hundreds of writers sit down and write for five minutes flat. No extreme editing; no worrying about perfect grammar, font or punctuation; unscripted and unedited. Here’s today’s edition…setting the timer….)

Five Minute Friday: Reflect

Go.

A kazillion brilliant winks of light twinkled from the surface of the lake, reflecting the beauty of the sun.

The twinkly-wink reflections bounced right into the eyes of Anne Shirley, protagonist of Anne of Green Gables and one of my favorite literary characters.

Spunky Anne looked at the world differently than most.

The rest of the world might call that lake “Barry’s Pond” – but of course that would not do.

(Yawn.)

Anne called it the “Lake of Shining Waters” – a reflection of her sense of imagination and wonder twinkling and winking as brilliantly as the sunlight.

“Barry’s Pond” does not call to mind any particular image, but the “Lake of Shining Waters” most certainly does!

I can close my eyes and see the sparkles, hear the water lapping at the shore, and feel the breeze on my face.

What we name things reflects how we see the world.

That goes not just for lakes – but for everything…even groups of people.

Perhaps especially groups of people.

What we call people reflects more about who WE are than about who they are.

Do we look for and celebrate the beauty in them?

Today as we write about the word “reflect” – and as I reflect on much of the recent rhetoric in the world – this is a question that weighs heavily on my heart.

Stop.

Paperback book cover for Anne of Green Gables by L. M. Montgomery

Five Minute Friday: Season

(So, I’ve been participating in a “writers’ flash mob” of sorts called Five Minute Friday. In response to a one-word prompt, hundreds of writers sit down and write for five minutes flat. No extreme editing; no worrying about perfect grammar, font or punctuation; unscripted and unedited. Here’s today’s edition…setting the timer….)

Five Minute Friday: Season

Go.

The baggy shirt and pants swallowed the small child as he strode to the plate, his helmet three times the size of his head.

The ball on the tee towered over him as he hoisted the bat to his shoulder.

He eyed the ball and, beyond the ball, other figures in similar baggy shirts and pants in various states of attention or distraction.

The dust from the field swirled around his feet as he squared them to the tee and took aim.

The bat thwacked the ball.

He stood still and tracked the ball with his eyes until one larger figure in the field waved energetically and yelled for him to run.

His feet began to move and he closed the dusty distance to a large lump on the field – first base.

The season had begun.

Weeks hence the feet of the final runner would find home and all the baggy-pants-wearing children would move on to the next season.

As they should.

Seasons come and go.

Stop.

A T-Ball tee with a blue aluminum bat on the ground in front of it.