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June, 2013:

The entitlement of a Tiara.

When you wear your tiara:

When you wear your tiara you sparkle,

when you wear your tiara you shine,

When you wear your tiara you give the rest of us permission to say, “that life’s mine”

That beauty that every woman holds, the prettiness she should embrace,

The silk, the cloth, the precious, delicately embroidered lace,

Every woman should know she is worth so much more than gold

And when you wear your tiara, you are telling a story; untold.

A story of celebration, just the way it should be,

A story of value and worth for you, for each woman, for me,

So wear your tiara proudly, wear it with grace and with style,

You set a shining example, only out done by your smile!


Dedicated to and inspired by an “ordinary” girl, who had the courage to dress like a princess!

Portrait of a woman

A picture of a beautiful woman, shrouded in a cloth, face covered, head bowed, on her knees, as in prayer, beautiful hands folded over one another, exposed, connecting with themselves.

Why should such an image have such an impact on me? Why would I feel an affinity towards this image?

A solidarity with a woman in such a stance?

Maybe because I too want to take solace from the comfort of anonymity?

Maybe because I too want to hide from the world, just to be alone, with myself, my soul, my thoughts?

Maybe because I too want to bend my head in prayer.

Maybe because I have placed my needs, my soul, my spirit in subservience – again, once again, so soon.

Maybe because I too want to bow my head in defeat, yet not complete hopelessness?

Maybe because I too want to seem mysterious?

Maybe because I too want to experience isolation, for there is good – so very much value that can come from such isolation, which insists on introspection.  Something I have not afforded myself the luxury of having indulged in. This might seem like a contradiction in terms – luxury and isolation. Yet for me, right now,  it is what my soul craves.

Yet I sold out. I sold out to fear, to anger, to reaction to a circumstance, instead of boldly and happily embracing the isolation. The challenge of becoming who I ought to be, achievable only through exploring myself, myself.

So now I get to assume that stance, but not from a point of prayer, not from a point of power, but from a point of regret, and desperation. Same position, different energy enforcing the pose.

How subtle the difference. Yet how significant the difference.