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Maya Davis
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Maya Davis

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"6 Years And 720,000 Attempts" Worth remembering. 
Alan McFadyen, who has been an avid wildlife photographer since 2009, just captured a photo that he has spent 6 years trying to get. By his count, it took him 4,200 hours and 720,000 photos to get a perfect shot of a kingfisher diving straight into the water without a single splash.
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Maya Davis

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Yesterday, as I was heading home from a park, I saw a woman and man in a yard. The woman was clearly trying to get away. The man dragged her back. As I was dithering about whether or not to call the police, I saw a police car approach. Thinking (hoping) the police may have already been called, I went on my way. However, I thought about that couple all day. I worried. I prayed. On the way home last night, I turned the same corner. In the darkness, I saw two police cars out front, and further down the street were several more. A window in the house looked broken, and as I looked again, I could see another busted window--windows that were not broken earlier. I called Joel and told him I needed to stop. I pulled off the road by a police car and waited. Thoughts of, "This is insane. Someone may see you and track you down and hurt you. You could be in danger by being here. Just leave. Don't get involved," went through my head. I sat and waited by the police cars until an officer came by and asked what I was doing there. (Actually it was, "What are you waiting for?" said in a harsh tone.) I replied that I had seen something there this morning and felt like I needed to wait and talk to them in case what I saw was important. "What did you see," he asked? "A fight," I replied. "Come with me," he said and led the way.

We drove to where the other officers were located. Three approached. I started to explain what I had seen. They asked me to describe the people. Before I had even finished, they told me that, yes, they needed to talk with me. I stood there, hands wringing and voice shaking, describing what I had seen. Timing. Details. Information. I was told that it was indeed a domestic situation, but they couldn't say more. However, the timeline of what I saw changed the narrative considerably (I don't know one way or another, which way, but based on how many officers were on the scene, I know that something serious happened).

I say all of this to point this out: We often want someone else to step in. To do the right thing. We hear (and may even say), "If it were me, I would have _______." But, in the moments that count, it's easy to assume someone else will do the work. To step in. It's instinctive to protect ourselves. To not make waves.

If I had followed my gut instincts and called 911 when I saw the fight, I don't know if the narrative would be different. The cop car I saw going toward the fight was doing something else, and clearly never saw the interaction.

We may be the only eyes for someone. We may be the only voice. It is not easy to be the only one standing on the side of a dark road. It is not easy to be the one to get involved when it could put a target on your back, depending on the situation. It is not easy to speak up, even when your instincts tell you to do so.

But the right thing to do is always and will always still be the right thing to do. Be the voice. Be the eyes. Be someone who cares. We live in a broken world. We will not get through the horrors it presents if we do not come together for each other.
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Much love, Maya. 
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Sometimes #poetytime  happens because we know that something is coming, and the only way to process it is to poet on.

She Remains

Warm soil turned in the sun
held together with firm hands
and the kindness of 
earth-mother goddesses.
She held the loam
the way she held our hearts:
gently, but with expectation.

It is never easy
to watch the soul slip away,
freeing itself from skin and bone
and transitioning into the role
of star-walker,
but she did it so gracefully
as though she knew
she was born to escape.

We do not get to plan
the way we exit this orbit.
But we can decide
how we walk in sunshine
and how we hold out our hearts
and how we stick our hands in soil,
with upturned faces
knowing that we are surrounded
by our own soul.
When we leave
it is never good-bye.
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So perfect
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Every now and then, life can bring us people that make our days brighter and our hearts lighter just by being around them. +Kelly Baysden​ is a continual ray of sunshine that makes me grateful that life brought us together, and thankful that she has chosen to call me a friend. (She's also funny, practical, and always wanting to learn, which means of course I love her!)

Happy birthday, beautiful! I hope today is full of joy, and that this next year brings you more happiness than you could ever imagine. I'm so glad you are in the world! Xoxoxoxo!
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Back into the review swing of things! Here are four fragrances that I reviewed from the Possets Halloween 2015 collection (four more will be up tomorrow).
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Whoa. I admit, I love this stuff even if it seems surreal. (It also makes me think of stories to write.) Fascinating stuff.
“We choose to examine a phenomenon which is impossible, absolutely impossible, to explain in any classical way, and which has in it the heart of quantum mechanics. In reality, it contains the only mystery.” Richard Feynman, a Nobel laureate of the twentieth century (Radin, Dean. Entangled Minds: Extrasensory Experiences In A Quantum Reality. New York, Paraview Pocket Books, 2006) […]
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As the good Doctor said, it's more like a big ball of wibbly wobbly, time-y wimey stuff. 
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"Escaping it is not the same as making it." (From Unbreakable Kimmy Schmidt)
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For such a funny show, it contains a lot of deep concepts.
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There's something about grief that somehow taps into all of the unresolved things we think we've taken care of from years past, and brings them front and center--making us feel adrift, loose, uncertain of our path.

I was reminded tonight of a hike I took years ago by the light of the moon. We knew it would be cold, and at the base we thought we had enough to get us through the night. Hours later, after we broke the tree line and had nothing by a lunar landscape to scramble over, where the wind rolls over the divide in waves that can be felt like standing in the ocean, we realized we were not as prepared as we thought.

Sometimes, all you can do is find the waist-high man-made shelter that others built, and hunker down in the bitter cold, and wait for the sun to come up. Before it does, there will be a pause where the stars will go dark, and the moon will probably have already set. The cold will feel more intense. The trail markers will be completely invisible. In that moment, it's easy to second-guess the wisdom of the journey. Question decisions. Want to re-do and erase what led us to where we are. Make us wonder if the steps we've taken to get to where we are were meaningless. But then the horizon will begin to gray, slowly, steadily, and then give way to shimmering pearl and pinks and orange.

The sun will rise.

It always does.

Even before we can register that it is happening, our skin will begin to warm. Color will come back to the world. The wind that feels so impossible to overcome will become manageable. Cairns showing the path forward will become obvious.

Grief can lead us into the most desolate places, and all we can do is hunker down against the cold. We may feel more isolated than ever, we may wonder if the journey is worth the effort. We may see nothing but darkness.

It's okay to drop down and let the wind roll over you. It's okay to feel afraid when you look up at the sky and can't even see the stars, much less the path forward.

We are not alone in our loneliness.

And at some point, the sun will rise as it always does. 
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Oh! This is luminous.
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Sometimes #poetytime comes from multiple thoughts that tangle themselves in knots and finally resolve into words that decide to march across the page and surprise ourselves. Today's offering:

Aloha Does Not Always Mean Goodbye

The egg lies raw and broken,
yolk bleeding out of the side,
and the clear part--
that which nourishes
drips through the cracks.

The essence of ohana
is not just one of belonging.
It is of remembering.
We share the same heart,
and give each other feathers
from our own wings
for softer places to rest.

But we have plucked the finest quills
then used them
to scratch ourselves to bleeding.
Words. Raw words. Raw
and pulled from bone and sinew,
then laid out for our young
so they, too, can transcribe hatred.

How can we call for the dove of peace
when we have roasted her
upon the flames of justification,
and the olive groves have been sold
lest we are tempted to hold the branches
for her children to land on?

We have turned love into that which is kapu
while we sit at tables
and at plates
piled high
with egg shells.
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Maya Davis

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For those who like Indie perfumes and unique fragrances (think old barns or earth or other fun notes like gasoline and paint), Blooddrop just released their autumn collection and it looks pretty fantastic (she also included some foodie/autumnal fragrances for those who like some sweetness on their skin). Mmmmm I really wish I had won the lottery a few weeks ago... Link to Blooddrop's new release page:
Perfumes are sold in 5ml Austrian amber glass bottles and contain 6-7mls of perfume. No sample sizes are available for any limited edition perfume.Here through until late December or while supply lasts. Complexities are a new little experiment for me where I take one of my creations and go for a little adventure, mixing it with other notes to create a new scent or idea with that perfume noteaccord. As it makes the most sense, I am beginning th...
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Oh yes. Abandoned Art Studio is totally for me. Thanks, +Ron Hall !
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Part 2 of my Possets Halloween 2015 collection reviews. Not all reviews are positive, but sometimes what doesn't work helps us know even more what does. :-)
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OK, We a you fom
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And in more interesting news of the day, how cool is this? (Since this was from spring, I'd love to know if this has gained any traction.)
Firefighters may be snuffing blazes with deep-toned sound, if a new device invented by two engineering students in Fairfax, Virginia, catches on...
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LOL, +Robert Scholz.
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Maya's Collections
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I am adept at making snarky comments, skillfully weave sarcasm throughout my day, and enjoy the occasional double entendre.
    writer, present
    I kill people with my mind. I also write poetry. Life's about balance.
Basic Information
Looking for
September 22
I write literary wordthings, play with yarn, and continue my quest for gluten-free foods that don't taste or feel like sand.
I am a femisofty. I believe in creating women who push against typical societal roles, who find their own paths in their own ways, who, instead of blooming where they are planted, find their own places to bloom.

I was born in a mining town (now defunct) in the mountains of Colorado on the hardwood floor of a two-room cabin. Although that was exciting enough, I've climbed mountains, shaken hands with a President, traveled to France, and gotten lost in Boston. Thanks, Mom, for starting me on a life of adventure.
Bragging rights
Excerpt of my first novel (still unpublished, but I'm working on that) included in Don't Sabotage your Submission by Chris Roerden, as an example of how to develop a scene (the right way).
Map of the places this user has livedMap of the places this user has livedMap of the places this user has lived
North Carolina
Denver, CO - San Jose, Costa Rica - Dover, DE - St. Paul, MN - Ward, CO - Taos, NM - Oxford, ME