By Scott Morgan

Prompt: Write about something you believed but have changed your mind about.

You’d think I’d remember the day my certainty died. I only remember the foreshock. The night I came down the stairs and said, I think my marriage is over.

We were done, and that was fine. I don’t miss her and I never did.

But I do miss the certainty.

A year before I had that conversation, I was just so sure. Of everything. The arrogance of dying youth, perhaps. The naïveté of someone who’s convinced himself he knows things.

He doesn’t believe. He knows.

Well.

Somewhere in the subsequent two years, my worldview collapsed because my certainty died. And it was a death.

Certainty is such a cozy blanket on top of such a comfy bed. It gives you license to indulge in safe routines. To lose it feels like a nuclear bomb. The aftermath is gray and endless.

Until you consider that you might not be facing a blank void, but a blank page.

I recently read the novel and saw the movie Conclave (Robert Harris). In both, the character of Cardinal Lomeli (Lawrence in the movie) speaks about the sin he’s most come to fear: certainty.

I wasn’t expecting to be brought up out of my chair by a fictional monologue. And yet here I was, leaning forward, eyebrows properly twitched and eager.

Certainty, his eminence argues, is the death of curiosity. Compassion. Tolerance. The Church’s strength lies in its diversity and in its doubt — without which, the cardinal offers, there would be no need for faith.

Church or not, faith takes courage. Faith is vulnerable, because it’s such a gamble. It doesn’t always pay off. And while faith does walk hand-in-hand with doubt, the other hand walks with hope. Certainty isn’t anywhere to be found.

All of which makes me sound very sure of myself. But I’m only sure that I have no idea what I know. Faith has replaced certainty, and it’s better over here.

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By Scott Morgan

Prompt: Define what “cosplaying life” — not like at Halloween, or a Ren Faire, like when someone dresses as a character — means to you.

I don’t cosplay poverty because despite that the electric company would occasionally shut off the power for unpaid bills,

— despite that half of the clothes I wore as a kid were 15 years out of style,

— despite that dinner was often leftovers for lunch at the school where my dad worked,

— despite that I thought going out to a restaurant with my parents was a bona fide vacation,

— despite getting into fights in school over my K-mart knock off sneakers that I had to wear until the holes wore through,

— despite that mom would furnish the house with goods paid for on Layaway,

— despite all that, I never really went unsheltered, unclothed, or unfed.

I might have worn rags, but I wore. I might have eaten crap, but I ate. I might have grown up in Trenton, NJ, but I could close my door, and I survived.

And despite not trying to cosplay poverty for some bullsh*t street crud, it bothers me when someone of means tries to relate to people who’ve really had it rough.

I don’t know how it is these days to need to take a bus to shop for food, just because I did that for a news story.

I didn’t write that story. That would be disrespectful. It’s not my lived experience, it’s my role play. I could stop the simulation anytime I wanted to.

A friend who grew up wealthy — not rich — wealthy, had a father who’d grown up on actual dirt floors.

He was a Cardinals fan because seeing cardinals every spring meant hunting, and he could eat again.

He would occasionally shut off the power to teach his kid — my friend — that everything could go away at any time.

My friend told me this as if she understood the real power shutting off and not being sure when it would come back on.

Recently, I read an “experience piece” by someone who’d spent the night in a shelter.

I imagine it’s a noble goal, but being well-intentioned and being intentional about solutions should not be confused as the same thing.

Empathy has an ugly side-effect, which is the creation of ingroups, and, by extension, the creation of them.

And yet how do we love without empathy?

Life is complicated.

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By Scott Morgan

Prompt: In what areas have you grown by attending this writing workshop?

I’ve learned that I like people a whole lot more than I had believed.

That it’s okay to sit in a room with strangers and become a not stranger.

I’ve made actual friends.

It’s getting to have your trust. The things some fellows have shared have really landed. And you took a shot and opened up and let it out, and it’s reminded me that people aren’t always to be wary of, to hide from.

My first five years in Rock Hill, I made a few friends who weren’t. The subsequent year and a half have been shaped by being in this room, with real people.

It helps me trust.

It’s helped me open up to others — and it’s been working out well.

This workshop gives me something to look forward to. A reset. I didn’t know how much I’d needed that.

It’s taught me about how quickly life can change in good ways.

And it reminds me how much I love and how much I miss the library where it all started.

I’m not the type to take others’ praise or admonishments to heart, but I feel utterly un-judged here.

Here, I’ve come to trust, because I’m not that radio guy to you. Most of you don’t even know my first name.

Certainly not my last name.

You just know a guy in the writing group.

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I love the word mystery!

It implies things needed to be uncovered and discovered.

Once a mystery is solved, there is always another!

There are endless clues to lost treasures and stories untold.

Following a path to collect,

all the pieces,

brings about curiosity and grit.

Being courageous enough to brave the oceans and depths,

of where the mystery leads you

feels fantastically exciting and without regret.

Trace the lines and connect the dots,

to all the uncertain parts

and eventually they will come together,

to create a story or maybe piece of art.

The mystery, the secrets, and hidden things

are the adventures where everyone wins.

We read about them in books-

We watch them in movies and TV-

We hear them in lyrics and songs that we sing-

How can all of these people be wrong?

What is the mystery to solve about love?

Where are the hidden things that will help us?

Who has the key to unlock secrets and open up?

I suppose that is why,

it is a mystery, a secret, or a hidden thing,

All the questions can make your head spin!

Judge a book by its cover -

And you will never know what is inside.

Endless emotions, a myriad of stories,

Traumas and joys, experienced and contrived.

So what is there to hide-

In a mystery or a secret,

Just a puzzle to solve-

Because we are all curious on the inside.

Lovers of nature and prose,

Appreciating sunlight and rain,

Is there a mystery in a rainbow?

Becoming endless supports of our

own domain!

Aren’t we each our own mystery-

Carrying a secret or possessing a hidden thing?

Why not have fun and try to solve the darn thing!

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I read it three times, trying to discern the difference or the similarity. Looking for clarity and a concrete example that my mind could make sense of.

Weirdly, it resonated more with a sensation in my chest, one of warmth and tingling. As if they are one and the same, two sides of the same coin, each with a slightly different perspective.

I continue to read the words and they get jumbled like a tongue twister, causing me to giggle out loud!

Am I abnormally normal or normally abnormal? I struggle to decipher it.

At the same time it feels as if there is a finger pointing at me and a quiet voice in the shadows whispering, “this is you, don’t you see it?”

I think I do sometimes, but do they see it too? Do I want them to see this, to know that I am abnormally normal and normally abnormal?

Now I have said it and written it three times! Is it like Beetlejuice or Voldemort?

I am leaning towards normally abnormal. Normal feels regular and I don’t feel regular so it seems to make more sense! To me? To whom? To you? To them? Today? Tomorrow?

Ok how about this:

Normally abnormal- is normal on the outside and abnormal on the inside.

Abnormally normal- is abnormal on the outside and normal on the inside.

This makes me feel like I am in a Shel Silverstein poem, which I adored as a child.

Tongue twisters, rhymes, funny and not funny-

A b n o r m a l l y n o r m a l

N o r m a l l y a b n o r m a l

Nonsensical and silly. Does it matter which way I go or choose?

Take a break and try another day! Who’s to say?

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My invisible backpack carries all the memories of the past and dreams of the future.

It holds the growth that is not linear but almost maddening. There are secret pockets on the inside, full of sunshine and quiet moments too.

The outside design, I imagine to be a pattern similar to a patchwork quilt, mismatched fabrics that are bright and colorful, and seamlessly belong together.

Packed in tightly around the metaphors of emotions and heartfelt inspirations, are my journals and sketchbooks. Photographs of my children and dogs sit next to my collections of rocks and crystals. And close to the top, are small bags filled with pencils, markers, and paints.

I feel most excited about the fun stuff! I wish to offload some of the heaviness, even if it is just a little to make more space for creativity and new collections.

I dream that my backpack would be large enough to house my favorite books, poems, and movies!

In the side pockets there are treats tucked in safely for a rainy day. Among them would be chocolate candy, cinnamon gum, my favorite protein bars, and something salty and crunchy!

When I take the time to take inventory, I pause and feel gratitude for all of it. Taking a moment to release the things that I no longer need, letting them go with grace and love.

Sliding down in my comfy space I reach for the journal and my favorite pen to write some thoughtful words and a pencil to sketch the emotions. Here I notice the softness in my heart and the smile on my face.

My backpack is not just a holder of things that are special to me, it is the metaphor for all that I carry with me, past, present, and future. All the pieces that create me like the design on the outside, maybe mismatched and imperfect, but perfectly me.

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VALENTINE’S DAY

Valentine’s Day is my favorite holiday. A celebration of love. I love myself, my family, my friends, my Jesus. I love macarons, medium-rare steak, sunshine, singing birds, epiphanies, a good beat, a great hair day, and picnics in the park. Love is in the air!

COLOR

Dear Lilac... I love you so. A close cousin to lavender, a descendant of purple. I love that you serve baddie when paired with black and pretty girl when paired with mint and mauve. Lilac... a light royal color. Inviting and inspiring.

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Prompt: Write about a memory anchored in a smell.

Memories are funny, especially when a simple smell like fresh cut grass or baking apples can evoke a time long forgotten in the back of your mind.

One smell that brings me back is damp earth. It seems so normal but it’s not just damp earth. It’s that mixed with the smell of camp fuel, brewing coffee and horses somewhere far off in the distance.

It’s mornings waking up at the New York Renaissance Faire. I spent summer weekends there from age 10-16. My sister and brother-in-law owned a popcorn company and I worked all different odd jobs at the faires. It ran from July to Labor Day weekend, but it was up in the New York mountains and nights got cold in August.

Waking up, bundled in sleeping bags and blankets, hoping you weren’t the first one awake so the fire would already be going.

Seeking out the smell of coffee, knowing that meant there would be water boiled for hot chocolate.

Hearing people singing off in the distance, children laughing as they ran up and down the field near our campsite.

Bacon would sizzle and pop outside the tents while my sister would knock on my tent pole.

“Time to wake up, sleepyhead.”

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Prompt: Write about fruit.

Prompt: What has been heavy on your heart lately?

Apples, oranges, raspberries, and blackberries.

That is all the current fruit in my house right now. Today.

Tomorrow there will be less of each. Come Friday there probably won’t be much left.

After Friday…

The government is closed. I’ve used all my EBT benefits to stock up on things to get us through as long as we can.

Fresh fruit won’t be on the list when the food starts to run out. Ramen. Spaghetti and PB & J will replace them as cheap alternatives.

I’m scared. For my family, for yours.

Elderly and children will starve. People will die. Children will be removed from their homes because their parents can’t provide for them.

We need help. We need change.

We need fruit.

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FAVORITE FOODS

Favorite foods?

There’s a meal I like with sour cream and soft shell.

Happy Tuesday! Tuesdays used to be the day to cook them and still is for some families.

Salt, pepper, garlic powder, chili powder, beef, olive oil, tomato paste.

I love the real Mexican tacos or burritos. Taco Tuesday. Taco Friday.

Happy tacos. Happy burritos. Yay, yay, yes, yes!

CHOICE

There’s a Mark Twain quote that’s a reminder of self-reflection, thought, accountability, and self-examination.

Be accountable for your ups and downs in life.

You have a choice to make.

Up or down. :)

IN ONE YEAR

One year from now I hope to keep climbing the ladder of great life travel experiences.

Going places and doing things I’ve never done. Being able to do it with a smile or grin on the face.

Continuing to laugh expansively and abundantly with no apologizing. Growing and flowing joyfully.

Never being sad, ashamed, mad, or miserable for what the Most High grants you.

There are no limits with Him at all.

FUNNY WORDS

The word dongle makes me think of Goof Troop and Goofy and Max. Although its meaning is: a small device connected to and used with a laptop or computer.

Argle-bargle comes to my floozy. You can brouhaha your way out of my face Argle-bargle.

Why do these funny words make me think of Disney characters?

Still goofy I know. Don’t call on Mickey Mouse or Donald Duck.

Okay, have a great day.

PRINCIPLES

How do I fit into the problem or solution?

By doing the right thing.

Solution thinking and actions by building with my actions, goals, and behavior.

Having the intentions to solve the problems with solution based actions only.

FAVORITE MOVIE

My favorite movie of all time?

That’s a challenging one for real.

If I have to get spiritual and dig deep down then it’ll have to be based on nature, tribes, family together, with some animals in the wilderness. The principles and morality approved by my heavenly Father.

The only classic movie that comes to my mind is a movie by the name of the Lion King. Although there were some sad moments, it reminded me of Cain and Abel.

Mufasa was a godly man. His brother was the opposite.

Simba, the son of Mufasa, learned to be godly.

It reminded me of Bible history. I’ve had many deep dreams that are like a treasure for me, because I know God revealed it to me.

This dates back to the 90s.

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SUPERMAN

As a kid my cousin and I would always play Superman. We thought we were Superman.

He even went out to get a VHS Superman tape of himself. His father paid for it.

But he and I would go back and forth as Superman 1 and Superman 2. He would always get the edge because I’m 5’10” and he’s 6’6” tall.

It was hilarious looking back at it.

Could you imagine multiple Supermans fighting each other or arguing with each other?

That was my six-foot-six cousin and five-foot-ten I.

BASKETBALL

One day when I was a teenager, I was playing a game of basketball. Five on five.

I got picked up to play the game. No one expected me to do anything. But I already practiced and played a lot. Like a hidden gem, a secret talent.

So the guys were talking trash. Acting as if they were better than they were. I kept quiet.

The other team was winning. I decided to play real.

My team started to make a comeback. I was contributing to the team on defense. Steals and blocks!

Then all of a sudden I started making jump shots and lay-ups. My team won and I made the winning game jump shot. My teammates ran and jumped on me celebrating.

It was fun.

PRESENCE

What I brought with me today was the presence of my Father. I talked to Him this morning. I prayed to Him this morning.

I spoke life, protection, grace, mercy, and strength over myself. I reminded myself why my Father is so important.

The One that will never let you down or betray you. The Most High is always the most reliable Spirit and presence to all His children on earth.

He reminded me why I trust Him the most, over any and all humans.

COMMUNICATION

It bothers me when someone tries to be close to me or get close to me without communicating to me about it.

Expecting me to be the one to break my neck, or to keep calling, texting, or chasing you down.

It doesn’t make sense.

You have to communicate well to me if you want to build together, grow together, and experience vacations and fun together.

BIG RED

My favorite fruit on the planet is something red.

As a child I used to call it “big red.” Also “magic red” is something else I would call it.

It’s funny looking back at it. My relatives would be wondering what I was talking about.

“Red Magic.”

“Big Red.”

It’s juicy. Yummy to the taste buds. You could add it to a flavor of juice, squeezing the juice out.

It’s a strawberry. Strawberry, strawberry!

Yummy.

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GRATEFUL

I’ve been taking it one day at a time.

Being reminded to not take anything for granted. Thinking about youth. Thinking about skin. Thinking about bones. Thinking about body.

How to not take those things for granted.

Remembering that those things could be taken away.

Every day is a reminder of my Father above.

SWEETS

If I could bring back some people for dinner, it would be someone that means a lot to me.

Someone that brought me a lot of laughs and smiles. Someone that could cook, bake, and make juice.

She was my favorite. Also she rewarded good behavior by giving you something of your choosing.

Surprise! It is my grandmothers. Both of their nicknames were Joyce and Sweetcake.

Sweetcake was great at baking cakes, brownies, etc. Joyce was great at cooking and baking desserts.

They enjoyed doing it. It was a happy affair when they were around. The aura!

GRANDMA JOYCE

I miss my Grandma Joyce. Because she always carried a high encouraging rich energy.

She could see things that others couldn’t see. She would tell someone about what she saw about them to encourage them. She did the same thing to her grandchildren.

What a blessing she really was.

She was inspiring above and beyond.

She told me to keep my head up always.

ERROR JORDANS

I’m an A+ student so I would love to have a pair of Jordans. The guardian parent says “no.”

The student says, “Why not? I’m an A+ student.”

The guardian says, “Because we said so.”

The student decides to become a thief and tries to steal some Jordan shoes and Jordan material.

He’s caught by a guardian and told, “You are dumb.”

Stealing is dumb, not smart. Don’t be a criminal.

You want Jordans, work for it. Get a job.

HOPING FOR GOOD

What are some things I’m hopeful for?

I’m really hoping for peace, joy, happiness, abundance, and keeping my head up. With the fire and ability to stay encouraged and be inspired.

Not lacking in peace, joy, gladness, and abundance. It requires a lot of meditation and self-examination, meaning you’re going to have to be accountable for your actions.

At the end of the day can you look yourself in the mirror and be content with yourself? With a smile or content stare.

Hopefully you can.

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Prompt: It would really be sublime/if you could give us your best rhyme/in this short amount of time.

It would be really sublime

if you could give us your best rhyme

in this short amount of time

And I know, to attempt to do so is foolish as can be

but think about it:

time is merely what?

On one hand, feeling nothing

more than a figment of the mind,

an inkling of thoughts

Something that one believes is solid, real,

but it’s often not.

Time is as inconsistent as can be,

Sometimes short as a dot,

sometimes longer than eternity.

It can seem scary, frightening, unnerving,

wavering, gripping you to the very core.

Because of all the things on this planet earth,

regarding time,

I wish I had more.

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Prompt: What were we thinking?

What were we thinking, continuing to come here time and time again, sometimes if newbies coming in, stepping into the madness of WTF-ery? It all goes back to that definition of true family and the importance of it. The goal of the writer’s group somehow became much more than mere writing. It allows us to express our true selves with no judgments. It creates a unique bond with our expressions made and our identities being displayed. It creates a caring and kindness towards the others in the group who not only share one’s same situations but different ones as well.

What were we thinking stepping into this laughter, thoughtfulness, seriousness, sometimes unexpected tears, all rolled into one mingling?

Unbeknownst, maybe unconsciously, we were thinking of our desire to be near a close-knit little family.

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Prompt: Write about a belief you used to have, but you changed your mind about.

The very first tattoo that I got was two years ago, right in the midst of a dark period I was having, after an extreme dark period.

In the middle of the tattoo is a semicolon, which represents a pause that the story—my story—will go on. On the left of the semicolon is a flower, representing blossoming and growth that I am growing. And on the right of the semicolon is a butterfly wing, representing the transformation that is happening.

I used to believe the doubts that others placed into my mind throughout the years so much so that they became a part of me, becoming a part of my thinking and psyche that poured out into my actions. But now, as I look down, and I am reminded of the growth, the transformation, and that the situations of hardships I’m going through is only a pause, this helps me into a new mindset of realizing that my life will go on.

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First mammogram (or “baseline” in medical terms) results are in ... nothing suspicious in either breast!

I don’t know if people reading my posts just overlook my posts about my health, but I’ve been telling my story to some people that it’s something when as a counselor, you were advising/encouraging others to look at the holistic values of their health--physical (in all areas), mental, emotional, spiritual--to help their healing process...but way different and eye opening when you’re on the other side of the coin and having to learn how to do that yourself to help your own healing process.

I have to admit, that part of me was doing the mammogram not only as a routine encouragement for women, but to rule out any possible, underlying physical ailments that could have been contributing to the epilepsy’s increased seizures.

And, I have to admit that I am going to look into seeking therapy to help on this continued journey of the epilepsy, for honestly that deep breath of...I just want this to end, and get back to some sort of “normal” that I “used to have.”

But, as I know from my previous therapist who I had when I was first diagnosed, and with the amazing grief group I attend at Hospice and Community Care ... when a major event happens in life, the reality is, there is no going back to “the old normal.” Eventually, you must accept the “new normal.” And it won’t be easy, and acceptance won’t be easy in any way. But, somehow, some way, there will be a way.

One of the reasons why I do share the roughness, and non-sugarcoatedness of my journeys, and I’ll admit, the non “there is always purpose, God will make a way” that you’ll often get when you’re going through hard times of life is not many people don’t share or open up because they may feel that people who haven’t experienced what they’ve experienced don’t/won’t understand. And I’ll use the openness and realness of my stories and journeys to hopefully help someone who’s reading it to realize that he/she/they aren’t alone in their hurt/pain/unsureness/chaos as they’re trying to make sense.

And it’s in the midst of that trying to make sense of everything when that spiritual healing will eventually happen. And maybe the mental healing that’s needed. And just like with weight loss and physical health, it won’t happen overnight. The reality is, it could take years. It could take ups, and downs, and resets, and downfalls, and “I’ll get back on track eventually” and stepping away from the goals you had in mind, and revising the goals, until it starts to happen.

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Prompt: What is Patriotism?

Patriotism—calling itself a feeling of love, attachment, and

loyalty to one’s own country.

But it has no direct definition from the major nor minor sides of the

aisles as I see

And growing up in my household, there was never any belief and

honestly,

As I continued to grow, that non-belief grew with me.

With the groundwork did in local communities,

seeing how more loyalty was

spent on this country instead of the issues that be

right under one’s own noses

right in front one’s very eyes,

Allowing one’s neighbors to suffer,

to mentally,

emotionally,

physically die,

be disgraced,

to weep,

to allow us to be divided and to divide.

Communities collapsed, breaking the backs of

the ones who built the country—then yes, this

so called patriotism will always be death to me.

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Prompt: What is Patriotism?

Patriotism does not have a political side. It is defined as “a feeling of love, loyalty, and attachment to one’s country.”

As I was growing up in my household, my family never believed in it, and honestly, I don’t think they believed in the country. And as I grew up, with the ground work I did in the local communities, seeing some advocate for patriotism—from both sides—but yet don’t want to get their hands dirty with the issues that are happening right under their noses, makes me wonder: what does patriotism even stand for?

If one lets one’s neighbor suffer, the very people that made the country what it was supposed to be, then I feel that true patriotism is actually dead to them—and currently is to me.

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Prompt: If you could create a new invention, what would it be? What would it do? What would be the name of it?

My new invention would be: “Slap Some Sense: For ages 25 and up.” It would be a robotic service AI animal approved under a person’s state service dog registry.

To get the service animal approved, one’s disability would be idiocy, stupidity, and not having any common sense.

Once approved, “Slap Some Sense” would be able to follow a person around wherever they go, inside or outside of their home. The robotic animal would be loving and caring—and have an artificial arm with a hand that would be ready to respond when needed.

Slap some sense!

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Prompt: What is holding you back?

Mini things and major circumstances of life do tend to hinder me, sometimes in minor ways and sometimes greatly affecting me. Regarding the latter, the biggest thing holding me back is the feeling of being stuck and feeling as if I’m moving too slowly at progressing forward in accomplishments of life. This is due to my fear of the uncertainty, the unknown, and not having the faith to FULLY believe that everything will work out and be ok.

I know it is ok to have doubts and question, because God knows me and my heart—He knows everything about me, and I can’t hide anything from Him. What’s the point of hiding my doubts and fears from Someone who knows it all? In my opinion, it would only make me fake.

The problem comes when I’ve held on to those doubts and fears and not just give them to The One who has it all handled.

And the problem comes when I feel I need solid evidence and visual proof that everything will be “ok,” instead of not only knowing but fully believing that faith in the unknown—of what’s not yet seen—will get me further than I realize.

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→ Donate here. Speak Up is a 501(c)3 Public Charity. Gifts are tax-deductible.