Fiddler on the Roof


I know a girl who cries when she practices violin because each note sounds so pure it just cuts into her, and then the melody comes pouring out her eyes. Now, to me, everything else just sounds like a lie.–Conor Oberst
So I have decided that I am going to be writing a novel. I have had a story brewing for about 2 years now and the characters keep popping out and asking me to write about them. This is one of the character developments that I had worked on. Not exactly sure where it is going to go, but I think that it is well worth delving into. It has been one of my dreams to write a novel for awhile now so I figured, “Why not?” Sadly I did not write anything yesterday because I was in a bit of a funk as far as writing club though, but I will get back to the post I promised about being “Lion-hearted” like I promised. Hope you all enjoy and Namaste!

Fiddler on the Roof

By: Michelle Curry

Fiddler on the roof fits him properly. Sitting off to the side with his leg propped up, looking over the skyline of the city. Its not quite dusk and the lights are starting to flicker on. He sits there, debating if he should play his song. He takes out his fiddle, handmade by his father, and plucks the strings. Playing it reminds him of home, in the lush rolling hills of Ireland. Everything was much greener there and the dank city puts a bit of a damper on his mood. This wasn’t home for him, it was a distant land that seemed cold and unwelcoming.

Coming to New York was to bring him fortune, new journeys and adventures and enough money to make a life for himself instead of having to farm potatoes like the rest of his siblings. Instead he is a stage hand at a local Cabaret, barely making enough money to afford a bite to eat and a place to sleep at night.  He places the cloth that’s embroidered by his mother on his shoulder and brings the fiddle to his chin. He takes a deep breath and with his rosined bow, he begins to play. In his mind, he sings the words “I shall sing a song for you, what shall I sing you? I shall sing a song of 10, what is the song of 10?”

Smooth and methodic his fingers nimbly explore the neck of his instrument. The emotion in his face changes with every note struck and plucked. He looks beautiful, in all senses of the word. His dark black hair cut not too short to accentuate his curls is tousled a bit as the train starts to roll by. The clicking of the tracks is just the rhythm for him to play to. Click clack, click clack, click clack, the sound of urban drum beats doesn’t compare to the Celtic drums of home.

His skin slightly tanned and a bit worn, he wears it well, almost like a badge of honor. The slight stubble just adds to the look of old farm hand. As he finished, he glares back over the now lit up city. Those blues eyes have a sadness in them, a longing for more…and a loneliness that longs for a woman’s touch. I stand there watching unbeknown to him. I want to sing a song for you, but what shall I sing you…and will you accept my song, my fiddler on the roof.




I am not afraid of an army of lions led by a sheep; I am afraid of an army of sheep led by a lion.–Alexander the Great

I had a dream last night that was rather interesting. I woke up in my dream at my friends apartment, but when i walked outside I was at the beach. It was about to be daybreak and just as the sun was breaking over the horizon, it swirled with the stars that were still visible. The thing was, it was still night over to my right and I could see all of the stars in the Milky Way. So here I am, seeing the sun burst over the curvature of the earth on my left and seeing the entire cosmos on my right with my toes in the sand facing the ocean.

It was beautiful…and frightening all at the same time. Then I felt like I had to make a choice on which way to go, and I chose the right. I walked on top of the ocean towards the stars and felt the universe envelope me. It was quite peaceful. This dream felt so real that when I woke up in the middle of the night I was still a bit “star struck” (oh puns) and bewildered. I still had the smell of salt in my nose and could almost feel the breeze blowing against my skin. Needless to say, I think I might have had some sort of shift or cosmic change.

Today feels different to say the least. It’s gone from a very cold and rainy 33 degrees to a sunny and pleasant 55. Maybe it’s just because spring is in the air, or possibly I just am in a better mood than I was yesterday, or it could be the coffee that is pulsing through my veins giving me some sort of rush. Whatever it is, I am looking forward to what it brings and what happens next. I will be posting a poem later on today after I have been to writing club. More than likely it will be on this topic.  Stay tuned and Namaste.

Where to Eat Vegan in Winston? Washington Perk

“Nothing will benefit human health and increase chances for survival of life on Earth as much as the evolution to a vegetarian diet.”–Albert Einstein
Being Vegan in The South is interesting because most people have the Paula Dean philosophy when it comes to cooking. If its not made with butter, deep fried or has some sort of animal product, then it isn’t tasty. There is hope though, especially in Winston-Salem. I present to you, The Washington Perk!
This place is a local grocery store and also owns a pub next door called Swaims. It is located on 228 W Acadia Avenue, which is conveniently located near The School of The Arts and Downtown Winston. Most of the products here are locally produced, organic, vegan friendly and health conscious. Plus, they have an excellent beer and wine selection! They also have a place to order sandwiches and coffee. One of my favorite things to get is a Sesame veggie pita with liquid aminos and nutritional yeast. Can you say delicious? Also the fact that you have the choice of almond or soy milk is fantastic.
The staff is very friendly and easy to talk to. They really strive to build the community around here and make things easily assessable for regulars. Plus, the book section is always a good place to sit and read. If you are looking for a great place to hang out that isn’t just another coffee shop, this is your best bet. Pick up some groceries, grab a good bite to eat, and talk to some local artists who go to the local art school? Yes please! Stop by if you are ever in town. Namaste!


“I offer you peace. I offer you love. I offer you friendship. I see your beauty. I hear your need. I feel your feelings. My wisdom flows from the Highest Source. I salute that Source in you. Let us work together for unity and love.” ~ Gandhi

Sometimes standing on your head can give you a new perspective on life. With life being turned on its head for me I figured maybe being upside down would maybe do me some good. It really just reminded me why I love inversions so much in yoga. I tend to get caught up in a back bends, forward bends twists…but occasionally I will remember to allow myself to do inversions.

I try to practice all the stuff I could improve on when it comes to yoga, and my headstands are quite awesome so I don’t do the as often. I think it is time that I start adding them back in to keep me sane. You know how people get awesome ideas in the shower? That happens to me when I am practicing yoga, especially if I am upside down.

So, what is the best way to do a headstand? Well this is what works for me. Start in a squatting position with your hands firmly placed on the floor. Breath in and bend elbows and place your head behind your hands on the floor. Take your knees and place them on your elbows so you are in what is called Reversed crow pose. Stay here for a few breaths, and when you are ready lift your legs up and straight till you are fully inverted. Stay here for 5 breathes, then return to inverted crow and then back down to squatting position.

Not only does this help you work on balance and core strength, it also helps keep your skin glowing (plus helps lift your face. HELLO!) and helps relieve depression. Plus if you break it out at a party all your friends will be impressed. 😉 I hope you all enjoy and Namaste!

What it Means to be Missing

We ourselves feel that what we are doing is just a drop in the ocean. But the ocean would be less because of that missing drop.-Mother Teresa

Contemplation of more serious matters have been running through my mind as of late. Maybe it’s the fact that I have more time to think and actually feel what I am doing since my life has started to become more turbulent. I have started noticing the pieces that were missing, the ones that didn’t need to be there any longer, ones who were holing me back, ones that were still painful to move, and especially the ones that I am grateful for having. People often don’t take the time to examine their self very often because it hurts too much. So we stay busy so we don’t have to think about it, drowning the pain with activities and other peoples issues so we can ignore our own.
We are all guilty of it, we all do it at some point or another, but now has come the time for me to actually face these issues. I spent most of the day on Friday just sleeping, thinking, writing, crying and trying to get rid of what cold bug I still had left. It was a lot to process, but most good things are and slowly I am coming out of the little hole I dug to hide in. I know me not having a job does not decrease my self worth (even though it feels like it) and I have plenty of opportunities before me to succeed. I have great friends, family and a roof over my head. Still…I feel like I have puzzle pieces missing. I am sure they will fall into place when the time is right and in the mean time I just have to do what I can and hang tight.
So, here is a poem I wrote on Wednesday. I hope you all enjoy and Namaste.
What it Means to be Missing
by: Michelle Curry
               Missing a shoe, missing a button, missing you?
Missing a turn, missing a word, missing how things use to be…
               How we kissed, how we danced, how we touched…
                             How not a word was spoken and yet so much was said in
One       Single            Breath…
Missing out, missing a chance, missing a turn…
                To take back all those things that were said that night
we were both drunk…
                 And taking our fears out on one another…
                                       Can I still try?
Can I take it back?
              Can I just wipe it all clean and pretend it didn’t happen…
So that you and I would still be here…
Missing parts, missing memories, missing hearts…
                That were once bound but are no longer. And this…
this is what it means to be missing.
                 Missing          You…
This is the hardest thing I have ever had to do.

Every Girl is Crazy for a Sharp Dressed Man


I love being a woman. I like dressing up; I love buying shoes.–Carly Fiorina 

I really don’t think I belong in this time period. Reasons? Well, I enjoy nice gardens, hand written letters and I have the firm belief that no one should ever wear sweatpants in public. Yes, that is right. I think people should actually put forth effort in how they look when they go out into the real wold. Call it old timey or what you will, I am sticking to it.

Ever since I was little, my Nanny (aka grandma) raised me with the sensibility to be a lady. You cross your legs when sitting, you expect gentleman to hold open doors, and you ALWAYS dress nicely when you go out in public. Period. That is how she was taught and that is what she was going to teach me since I was her granddaughter. Funny enough, times has changed to wear you can get away with wearing just a g-sting and nipple pasties practically while getting groceries, let alone pajamas. It makes me rather sad.

What happened to people taking pride in themselves and wanting to look nice? I don’t mean always wear a suit or a ball gown (although if I had the choice I would. Men in suits, nuff said), but just taking the time to actually put on a decent outfit when you go to run some errands. It makes you feel better when you take time for yourself, even if it just means putting on a pair of nice jeans and a cool t-shirt.

Too often we think it is selfish to want to look good. “I don’t have time because I am a new mom. I don’t feel well. What if people judge me and call me a slut?” You know what? You taking that time to look halfway decent actually makes a better impression on others and sets an example for people. It makes them go, “Wow, they really take care of theirself.” It makes a better impression on your boss, your significant other, your family, even the random guy at your local coffee shop.

I know a lot of people my age are in school and sweatpants are easy, especially if you sleep late. Putting on real pants with a real shirt is just as much effort as putting on PJ pants though. Take the time to be good to yourself, it pays off. So leave the sweatpants at home. Namaste.



What is True Love?

True love is like ghosts, which everyone talks about and few have seen.–Francois de La Rochefoucauld

I found this video while surfing through stories on one of my favorite websites,  Itis a beautiful story, which made me cry. The thought of someone writing me a love letter every morning before going to work and being their truest self, even when in sickness makes me melt into a puddle. Then it made me ponder and wonder what true love really is?

Is it waking up next to someone everyday and knowing that they are always their for you no matter what? Picking flowers out of random planters and putting them in your lovers hair? Finding beauty in every little detail of that person even if it might drive you bonkers sometimes? Or is it all those things and more?

People fall in love everyday, in so many different ways. Some over the internet, the subway, the coffee shop that you always frequent, even bumping into someone on the street because you dropped some papers. There is no right or wrong way, it just happens. The problem is, people don’t trust it. Yes, that even includes me. But instead of questioning it, why not give in and let it be?

Why not let your story unfold and just have it happen? Namaste.