I am often asked if Brightening is still available for sale. No, it is not. Sorry. It was sold many years ago, but you can still get prints by clicking the link above.
The next question I get asked is if I could paint another one.
Not likely. I find it very hard to copy my own work. It never works out well and usually ends up in frustration. Not that I don’t have “sister pieces” and “spin-offs” of my work occasionally, but it’s not something I usually do on purpose.
Let’s face it, I often paint like I write — clueless, in the dark, and with no idea of the outcome. It really is a bad habit, especially with painting. I keep hoping that some day I will actually come to a point where I can plan a painting. For the moment, don’t ask me how to do that because I have no bloody idea and not for lack of searching for an answer that works for me. Oh, there’s people who will talk about composition and thumbnails and such like that. There’s Mikki Senkarik whose work I follow because she walks through the whole painting process and has great tips, but I just can’t. It feels like plotting to me and I’m afraid that it would ruin the energy of the piece. David Limrite told me earlier this year that I just needed to start treating my canvas like my sketchbook and he is right. While he and his partner, Jordan, were able to get me painting more, I just have yet to actually sit down at a canvas and start scribbling like I do in my sketchbook.
I admit that I have frustrations that I don’t have with my writing (any more). If I look back, then yes I can see similarities with what I use to go through with my writing. I know it’s part of reaching a new level of mastery and that these steps must be gone through. I know this!
I frustrate myself, feeling myself getting older and not getting any closer to the things I desire in this life.
How long must the old dog lie on the nail before the pain gets so intense that it moves? I ask myself this question often.
Okay, well this is going down a rabbit hole I didn’t expect. But maybe it is part of my walk into the enchanted forest. I can’t let the magic help me if I don’t tell the spell what I want it to perform.
Interesting. I often ask people what story my paintings tell them, but I haven’t done this sort of exploration for myself.
While I will leave myself to think on that, let’s found back to the original intent of this post.
As I was saying before my diatribe, because of how I paint, it makes each one unique. One has finally been produced that is similar to to Brightening.
It is called, “Enchanted Forest.”
I know, you’re shocked.
I love the little mudslide across the path. A great little obstacle to encounter. I think some dwarf was mining and chucking all the dirt up in a mound. With the area so lush, it must get a lot of rain. That made the mud slide down.
If you want to own this piece for yourself, you can get it now on Etsy. Warning though: once it’s sold, it’s gone.
A quick note about my free fiction: this is raw draft with little editing. I don’t know where the story is going, or if it’ll even get completed on the blog. But it’s fun to do.
The clips from this story stay up for a limited time and then they will turn back into a pumpkin.
Let’s proceed, shall we?
Deep Space Omega (#2)
by Dawn Blair
The quarters were like most Jadz had seen before: bed, table, desk and chair. Except this room had something different. There was a man inside, seated at the desk. His cheeks flushed red as he dropped the tablet he’d been holding and stood up. He saluted. “Sorry… ma’am. I should have been done before you arrived. I only learned you were coming in early a few moments ago.”
Jadz watched him look for insignia on her collar, knowing he’d find none. “It’s fine, lieutenant. I’m a civilian, so I’m just happy to have United issued equipment.”
An expressive look of relief went through his face and he gave a genuine smile. “Let me know when you’re settled in and I’ll come back and finish.” He scooted around toward the door and left.
“That’s right. You don’t want to stay in my presence,” Mouse said, waving toward the closed door. “I’ve only been on him for a week to get your computer and accounts all set up. I don’t think he really believed anyone was coming until we got the inbound flight manifest. Well, here you are. Home, sweet home.”
Mouse sat down on Jadz bed as if to wait while Jadz unpacked. “Your record said this is your third transfer in less than two years.”
Jadz bit down on the inside of her lip, wondering if she’d been a topic for conversation and scrutiny before even arriving. At length, she responded, “Yeah.” No point in denying it.
“Didn’t have any red flags in your file, or signs that you’re disruptive and need to be sent away from the human population. Way I see it, you either are running from your last boyfriend or you really have a thing for astronomers. You wouldn’t come out to the Big O if it weren’t one of those reasons.”
Mouse held up her arms to indicate everything around them. “This place, the DSO.”
“Ah, Deep Space Observatory.”
Mouse laughed, clearly mocking Jadz. “No. Deep Space Omega. That’s what we call the O around here. You are at the last spot in the world, no, the universe. Nobody comes out this far. Nobody. Heck, we once had space raiders try to overtake the station. They came aboard to take us over and they hightailed it out of here leaving us with supplies.” She scoffed again. “Imagine that, feeling so sorry for the people you just tried to raid that you take pity on them.”
There’s been something I’ve wanted to do for a long time, but I got around to it. That is building puzzles for my books.
Okay, maybe some backstory is needed here.
My mom often told stories about how I would do word searches before I could even read. Sure, why not? Let’s face it: letters are nothing but visual pictures. You don’t need the sound attached to understand that “BEACH” is one type of visual picture that you match to “BEACH” in a word search.
I enjoy doing the puzzles where you compare pictures and look for the differences. Or finding hidden things in images.
Now, I admit that I am not the biggest fan of crossword puzzles, but I use to design them by hand on graph paper. Creating them was so much more fun than solving. I also made several word searches. Today, our world makes it even easier. I love technology!
I have been living with the main character of my Sacred Knight story, Steigan, in my head since 1994. People laugh when I tell them I have a tote full of notes and drafts which weighs 41 pounds! What they don’t realize is that there’s hardly a notebook or scrap of paper in my house that doesn’t have some sort of note in or on it that has some reference to my Sacred Knight series. Seriously, it’s everywhere!
I am pretty much use to it, though I do have the moments of frustration when I’m looking for notes on another story and only find things for Sacred Knight.
Recently, the point of how long I have lived with story really got driven home!
This is a span of 26 years I’ve been working on this story. Not so much for the surrounding stories, like Tangled Magic, thank goodness. I’m merely talking about the Sacred Knight portion, Steigan’s story. 26 years.
A couple weeks ago, my youngest son (who is in his early 20’s) and I were looking for the draft of one of my children’s stories. We found a bunch of diskettes where the story could be stored as well as papers.
When I started digging into the papers and searching the files on the old diskettes, I kept running into more of my Sacred Knight story. Old manuscripts which I thought were all contained in my tote. That’s when I really started realizing how long I’ve worked on this story.
I’m sure I mentioned before that this story has gone through several incarnations too. It started off as a fantasy romance, then took a tailspin and became a young adult book, then a comic, and finally landed as the epic fantasy it is today. When it was a romance, the title was Some Kind of Kiss. I had completely forgotten about that until I ran into a file on the disk that was labeled “Steigan.” Then I laughed and realized that’s how the “SK” came about which I eventually started thinking about as “Sacred Knight.”
One of those weird and wonderful ways that life works.
In one file, I found the original name I had for Lucinia. If you’ve read Quest for the Three Books, then you are familiar with the woman who “adopted” Steigan and her bustling, mothering fashion. Originally, she wasn’t his adoptive mother, but merely the wife of the owner of the inn.
I thought it might be fun to pull out an old scene I wrote which has Lucinia’s original name on it. I didn’t remember this scene, but I do recall a later time where I where I was trying to think of the wife’s name and couldn’t. I threw in the placeholder name of Lucy until I could find the name. Then I was developing the backstory between Lucy and Arlyn and it was Arlyn who kept calling her Lucinia. A quick search and replace later, all the Lucy’s were changed to Lucinia.
Now that I’ve found the original name, I really like the fact that my brain rejected it so hard I forgot it (grin).
I do remember writing this scene though and it’s fun to see the things that stayed, or how they shifted positions (like Dragzel, who I had forgotten was initially Steigan’s pet. Did you know that Ellis was originally LS which stood for Little Steigan and that is why Ellis now has Dragzel? Fun trivia.)
If you’re interested, take a peek now.
The Room Above the Inn
(Excerpt from an old draft of Sacred Knight)
By Dawn Blair
Before Steigan opened the door, it was flung open and a robust woman bustled in. She walked right into him and, though Steigan tried to grab her, fell backwards.
“Oh, my!” She stood up, brushed herself off, and pulled brown hair fallen from her bun out of her face. “I’m awfully sorry. My, what a hard chest you have.” She knocked her hand against his metal breastplate before he could stop her. “Oh, my.”
“Are you okay?”
“My, do you have armor under there?” She reached for his cloak.
Steigan stepped away from her. “Please, ma’am. If you’re all right, I should be on my way now.” He looked around to see how many people in the tavern room were watching them. This was drawing more attention to him than he liked.
He caught a whiff of stew and his stomach began to growl.
“Oh, my. A growing boy. Don’t tell me Sim let you go away hungry. Let me guess. ‘No money, no service.’” She pursed her lips. “Come on now. We’ll take care of that.”
Steigan wanted to pull away and scream. He did neither, not with his head starting to feel so light and his stomach filled with only hunger. “I just came in to talk to Sim.”
She dragged him into the kitchen, where she spun around to face him. She placed her hand on the countertop where several knives hung within her reach. “You. I know you.”
“Please just let me leave.” Steigan tried to step back, but the woman refused to let him get more than an arm’s length away. “This whole thing’s been one big misunderstanding.”
“Shh!” She swayed from foot to foot, at first keeping her hands near her face. Then, she reached out to push the cloak back. Her fingers touched the blue and gold armor, then she lay her whole hand against it.
“Really, I should be going.”
“I know.” She pointed a finger towards him. “I had a dream about you. That’s it.” She stretched to the tips of her toes and clasped her hands together. “I remember now.”
Steigan pulled the cloak back around him. “I’m sorry, ma’am. I have to be going.”
She grabbed his arm. Her short nails scratched him. “You can’t. I have to help you. I will help you.”
The woman reached for a muffin and slathered it in butter before handing it to Steigan. “You must be starving.”
Once Steigan took the muffin from her, she puttered around the kitchen gathering more food in a trencher. “My name is Larcina. I’m Sim’s wife. Do you remember your name?”
Steigan swallowed the bite. “Remember?”
“Yes, remember. There hasn’t been a dominus in the north for over five hundred years. Certainly you’ve been awaken. In my dream, you’d been laid to sleep by Saint Steigan and told to wake when the time was right.” Larcina picked out some chunks of meat from the stew and put them on the floor. She pointed at Dragzel. “For your creature.”
Steigan took Dragzel off his shoulder and placed him on the floor before taking the trencher. “Blessings to you.” He nodded. “My name is Steigan. I am from the south. I live in New Lilinar.” Lived came to him as an afterthought. It was hard getting use to the destruction of New Lilinar since for him it had happened only today. By the goddess, what was he doing here? Why had he ever wanted adventure?
Larcina went to stir the stew pot. “If you are willing to work, I am certain I can convince Sim to let you stay with us as long as you need to. You aren’t afraid of a little hard work, are you?”
“No, ma’am. But why are you doing this? Why are you so willing to help me?”
“Good. For your work, you will receive room and board. I can’t offer you one of our inn rooms because we must always keep some open in case the Holy Reverend comes traveling through, but I can give you the upstairs loft. I think you will find it to your advantage as long as you keep quiet.”
“Why? Why are you doing this?” he repeated.
Larcina lit a candle. The first thing we must do is hide your armor.” She kicked aside a rug covering a trapdoor in the floor. “If you’ll just pull that ring…”
The door was heavy and if something was pushed over it, it would be impossible to open from the inside. Finally it rose and fell back on the hinges. Steigan took a candle and tried to look inside. “A storage cellar?”
“A good place for you to keep your armor hidden. Sim has problems bringing up barrels from down there and if you could oblige us by getting the barrels, he’d have no reason for going down there. You armor would never been seen.”
Steigan started down the steps. Blackness quickly encroached and even the candle he carried wasn’t helpful. A light dusting of cobwebs brushed against his face once he was completely under the floor level. He rubbed then away with his hand and continued on.
“While you’re down there, why don’t you get a barrel of strickleberry ale?” Larcina called down.
The musty basement had a dirt floor and walls. Barrels were stacked against two of those walls and on a third were shelves that looked to hold canned vegetables and fruit.
Steigan unfastened his cloak and draped it over the barrels. He began removing pieces of his armor and stacking them on barrels to keep them off the floor. He’d be down here polishing the pieces ever day, he thought, to keep the rust away.
Once out of the armor, he grabbed a barrel and relized there was no way he could carry it out unless he put the candle down. Reluctantly, Steigan set the candle on a shelve. Balancing the barrel on his shoulder, he looked towards the top of the steep stairs.
From above, an angry voice boomed, “He is not staying, Larcina. He’s a vagabond. Fates, woman, you can’t take in every stray that comes knocking at the door.” Steigan knew instantly it was Sim’s voice he heard.
Neither Sim nor Larcina was in view, but through the cracks in the rough floorboards, he could see shadows of where they stood. Steigan half expected the trapdoor to be slammed shut at any moment.
“You’re letting your imagination run away with you,” Steigan whispered to himself. “What are they going to do, lock you in here?” Even trying to laugh it off as a ridiculous idea, he couldn’t get past the seriousness of it.
As Steigan emerged with the barrel, he saw Larcina standing with her hands folded against her chest. She was biting her lip and glaring at Sim. They both paused to glance towards Steigan. He set the barrel down. “I have to go back for the candle,” Steigan explained, pointing toward the cellar.
“Actually, we need another barrel brought up,” Larcina said. “The Holy Reverend is coming in tonight. Do you mind?”
Steigan looked toward Sim. “No, not at all.” Steigan started back down the stairs.
“This isn’t a good time to take in strangers, Larcina. First he shows up and now news of the Holy Reverend coming. I don’t like it. Something’s going on.” Sim said.
“He’s only a boy. He’ll cause no harm and I doubt he’s caused injury to another.”
There was silence again as Steigan brought up the second barrel then returned for the candle. He closed the trapdoor and secretly breathed a sigh of relief to be out of there.
“I have to go check on the rooms.” Sim turned on his heel and left.
Larcina turned back to her countertop where she had several balls of dough sitting on a heavy covering of flour. Diced vegetables were stacked in neat piles and little spice tins were scattered about.
Steigan leaned against the counter. “I take it this is not a normal trip for the Holy Reverend.”
She pounded one of the dough balls. Flour exploded, dusting all of her tins. “This isn’t a Traveler’s Moon. It’s too dangerous. Besides, this isn’t really a good time.”
I am bringing back my free fiction. As always, this is raw draft with little editing. I don’t know where the story is going, or if it’ll even get completed on here. But it’s fun to do.
As before, the clips from this story will stay up for a limited time and then they will disappear (turn back into a pumpkin). I’m making these sections really short this time, less than 500 words so that they will be quick and easy to read. This one doesn’t even have a cover right now, so it’ll be short and sweet each time.
A speedy note about this story: I am writing Deep Space Omega as a sci-fi romance. When I’m done, I’ll be putting a pen name on it, mostly to help my readers differentiate my work. Some writers use pen names to hide work they don’t want to admit having done. I plan on being fully open about it. Yes, I already know what name I want to use, but I’m keeping it secret for now. I don’t know how long this work is going to be. Already it is approaching the original length I thought it was going to be, but I have just barely gotten into the story. I’m starting to really enjoy these characters and it’s been fun spending time with them and getting to know them. Unfortunately, I can also see a larger romance series building (somebody help me!).
Let’s do this, shall we?
Deep Space Omega (#1)
by Dawn Blair
As Jadz walked through the corridor connecting the two airlocks, she thought about how thin the passageway sounded, as if it might crumble under her feet. She stopped, feeling the sway beneath her. Her lips and forehead tighten as she decided this would be the first thing she fixed.
Emerging from the faulty tunnel onto the space station, a bright young-faced brunette with hair pulled back in a messy bun greeted her. “Jadzine?” she asked hopefully.
Jadz quickly realized the woman could only be a couple years younger than her, despite her young appearance. “Jadz,” she lightly corrected, trying not to offend. First impressions at new assignments were so critical.
The woman nodded. “I’m Mouse. Okay, really my first name is Maripsa, but everyone calls me Mouse. So, I get it.” She bobbed her head around and even gave a little roll of her eyes as she spoke with excitement. “We’ve got your quarters all ready.”
“Permission to come aboard then,” Jadz asked, holding out a little card toward Mouse.
Mouse, who had already started leading the way, glanced back over her shoulder and gave a dismissive wave. “We’ve already got your information. As for permission, you got off the ship bringing you here, didn’t you?” She laughed. “We’re a lot less formal here.”
Steely letters backlit by neon blue light on the gray metal wall read, “Deep Space Observatory.” Jadz wondered if anyone coming this far out would really have any doubt about what orbiter they had landed on. This wasn’t exactly a tropical paradise destination for tourists. There were only two reasons to be this far out: punishment or silence.
Jadz returned the card to the front pocket of her pants. “Yeah, about that corridor… why hasn’t anyone fixed it? It feels like it’s going to fall apart under your feet when you’re walking through. It needs reinforcing badly.”
Mouse grinned from ear to ear. “Why do you think you’re here? It’s about time we get a decent engineer around here.”
“Mechanic,” Jadz corrected her again. She wouldn’t start people thinking she was more than she was.
Paying her no attention, Mouse gestured as she turned down a branching hallway. “Crew quarters are this way. We’re all on the same deck. Hopefully you’re good being close to your coworkers.”
“I was raised on a starship. Close confines like that even in space might as well be a prison”
“Never heard a United lifer talk like that,” Mouse laughed as she gave another wave for Jadz to follow her into a room.
Every time I say that, it’s an affirmation that I believe in the crazy ways that I tell my stories, even if that path doesn’t make sense. Often it doesn’t until something clicks and I see a larger picture in hindsight.
I’ve been working on Walk the Path (editing stage) and The Missing Thread (writing stage) in tandem. Many events from these stories tangle together. It would have been impossible to make them fit together if I wasn’t going through them together like I am now.
I can’t tell you how excite this entire world makes me. Sacred Knight and the Onesong series are so intertwined, as they should be considering that Onesong is pretty much the prequel, and they support each other so well. It literally amazes me every time I go back to look for information or even just in the whole writing/editing phases to see how they twist together. I am grateful for these stories. I am grateful for getting to a point where I can handle the vast scope of the story and multitude of characters without fear of it falling apart or shrinking back and taming down the story to something more manageable. I’m grateful for the surprises it brings to me each time. I’m grateful that I’m not a plotter because I would have killed the energy of this story if I were.
Okay, come closer if you dare. I’m going to take a moment to pull back the curtain and show you my world right now.
I’m going to talk about The Missing Thread since it’s what I’m writing. Right now, I have several characters going down into Gohaldinest. This is Steigan’s second time being there. It’s interesting to see it through his eyes now. I won’t include spoilers here, but I will say that Steigan has more to fear now.
Dragzel, a creature who is basically like a kitten-sized baby dragon, is along for the journey as well. Now Dragzel has been a part of every story. I often read Dragzel’s lines aloud as I’m writing them because I love narrating this character as well as writing him. He’s so much fun and terribly mischievous. Steigan loathes this creature and with good reason. He doesn’t understand why other people adore it. In Gohaldinest, Steigan’s friend, Ithanes, is giving Dragzel the utmost respect. I think Steigan is about to lose his cool. (grin)
Having Dragzel here is fun because Dragzel’s memories of Gohaldinest are tumultuous at best. He probably has the most knowledge of anyone in the group at this point. The things he knows…
I just got chills up my arms.
I keep reflecting back on the scene in Tangled Magic where Dragzel is guiding Rivic through Gohaldinest. There is so much information, both spoken and unspoken in that scene, that makes it fantastically delightful for me as a writer. I want to pull that essence into the scene of this group walking through Gohaldinest now, but darker and with more creepiness. It ought to feel like Halloween night. That would be a deep contrast to The Quick Highlights of the City as provided by Dragzel in Tangled Magic.
Well, now I’m inspired to get back to work, so off I shall be now and whisked away once more into my story. I hope you enjoyed your glimpse of what’s coming up.
Last week I ran afoul with my own thoughts. I despise nothing more than those depressing creative moods that drag me down like plough stuck in the mud. I have learned that for me there is only one solution: sleep.
But when the first night of sleep didn’t help. I’d gone to bed early, but didn’t sleep well. I spiraled into an even worse mood: an angry, depressed creative mood. It seriously didn’t help that the Universe seemed to want me in that exact state and was doing everything it could to keep me there.
The second night of sleep was better. I actually slept, probably because I hadn’t slept correctly the night before. Afterwards, I felt somewhat better, no longer stuck in the mud, but not quite pulling along like I should.
I asked the Universe what I needed now and it quickly replied with “The Freelancery, of course.” I headed over to Walt Kania’s blog. Now, I love Walt’s blog posts, but he doesn’t write nearly enough of them for me. I want more. But, I also understand that he’s got his freelancing going on and so I’m glad that he puts out his words of wisdom as he can for the rest of us.
Fortunately for me, he had put out a post since my last visit. And, just as the Universe had promised, it was exactly what I needed. In this post, he talks about the difference between an entrepreneur and a freelancer. At first, I was all ready to disagree and yell that a freelancer had to be an entrepreneur and understand that they were a business for themselves. But as I read Walt’s blog, I understood his point. And I saw that I most definitely ended up in the freelance side of things.
But as I read on and I got to his line, “…a freelancer says “I built this,”…” something inside me snapped as if two pieces were clicking into place together. Immediately I discarded the remnants of the funk plaguing me.
I am a builder. I build books, paintings, audiobooks, comics, photographs, and whatever else suits me at a given moment.
I am an architect. I see structures of plots, of systems, of storylines, of compositions all in my mind’s eye.
I am a wizard. I bring forth that which was not there into our world as if by magic using the tools I have.
I create. I make something from nothing, giving form and substance to the things I build.
I write this in order to remind myself should I ever forget. Maybe along the way, someone else needs to hear these thoughts so as to bring his or her own mind back together.
I am writing this post after having finished writing my rant that went up on Monday. I have to say that my emotions are a little raw right now. The psychological distance is the reason why I usually save thoughts like that for my fiction.
But I know this feeling will soon pass.
Our bodies are meant to feel emotions. Chemicals, many of them constructed in the brain, are released to give our bodies the many varied sensations we feel. And it usually takes about two minutes for those chemicals to dissipate.
Already, I am beginning to feel better.
I suspect it would have taken longer for my emotions to level back out if I had continued to dwell on them.
This is why the news media latches onto a story and keeps repeating it over and over. It continues to flood the viewer with negative emotions which feed the irritation. This is why our society is getting angrier and we have so much bad going on. Solution: quit watching the news! No, seriously. Read headlines and ask yourself if you really want to invite a story into your life before reading. Don’t view any news. Read it. Choose what you read wisely. You can stay informed while not giving into the drama and trauma that our news outlets want you to surrender to. Don’t give them your energy.
All of life is about choosing how you wish to spend your life energy.
More importantly, YOU get to choose how you spend your energy. Don’t give it to someone who is willing to influence you in the way they want. You make your own choices.
People aren’t taught how to flow with their emotions and their energy, or how to focus them into their lives. I really do believe though that humanity needs to mold itself differently and that is only going to happen one person at a time; only you can choose the person you wish to be.
Do you want to be full of anxiety? How about anger? Jealousy? Fear?
I honestly believe many people choose these states. It makes them victims. Then they can have other people’s sorrow, which feeds their justification for living a lackluster life as well as supporting their addictions.
But you can change this. You can quit letting negative, ill-gotten emotions control your life. All it takes is understanding these emotions being chemicals released from your brain and a little courage to live a better life.
This is Cirvel’s response to Rivic asking why Cirvel would have the genie lamps if genies are such abominations. I love Cirvel’s answer and the implications that hang there for Rivic. Once again, it’s Cirvel not quite revealing all his hand, but subtly giving a peek.
I’m very thankful this story (Rivic’s as well as the entire Sacred Knight series which is part of it) has been mine to tell.
I woke up Sunday morning to read the headline of an article which stated that people were baffled by orca whales hitting the sides of boats around Spain.
Has 2020 taught us nothing?
I feel that our world has been sending us one very big, flashing neon sign of a message this year: GET OUT!
I have long told people that when Mother Nature decides to throw us off the planet, there will be nothing we can do about it. I really feel like She’s decided to start that process. Yes, start! She really has yet to begin.
We should have first taken a clue when She sent us all to our rooms with COVID. We didn’t listen. In fact, we took to the streets with violence and mayhem. There were earthquakes and fires (okay, I acknowledge that the Australian fires were first about the time COVID was becoming a worldwide issue). Hurricanes, and now orcas. Nature has gotten the clues that we are not welcome any longer.
Too long have we fought each other because of skin color or cultural differences, or for land/power. Other animals fight too, but we’re supposed to be one of the smartest, most evolved of all the animals and we can’t get over ourselves to realize that we are all out here floating on this little bubble together? Do you know how precarious our situation is? Huh? Any clue at all?
We are freaking idiots!
Worse, I feel like humanity is getting dumber all the time. We prepare our children to do standardized tests (I’m mostly talking U.S. here), but do nothing about preparing our children how to live in the real world.
It all makes me very angry. I usually try to keep my sentiments like this in my stories, let the battles play out in imagination, but I feel like it needs to be said more openly. Especially since no one is listening to the planet as She screams around us.
I am still a believer in hope. I will not stand against racism or war. I won’t be against drunk driving or smoking or drugs. I won’t live in fear against a disease. Any time you stand AGAINST something, you lend it energy. What you resist persists. Instead, I will continue to be for peace, for sobriety, for health. Those virtues are what I wish to promote here. I will continue to support kindness in humanity, beginning in myself. I will see things differently than everyone else and believe in life and energy. I will not buy into what the news tries to shove down my throat. I understand that this is all happening for a reason and I trust that power that is greater than me. Yes, I trust the process. That might be easy for me to say as I am safe right now. I am healthy, I have electricity, and I have my home. That is more than many can say right now.
But, is that because I hold a different view and outlook?
I certainly hold myself to standards that most people don’t understand these days. It’s easier to come home and have a beer, plop down in front of the television, and claim that they deserve to rest after a long day of work than it is to get home and refocus on their own passion and put in more hours on that in order to build a better tomorrow for themselves. It’s easier to get angry, raise a stick, and attack a fellow human than it is to seek out the calm and allow to live and let live.
We would all be better off if we paid attention to the space inside our own jars than trying to get the space from everyone else’s jar.
Mother Nature is only going to let us remain if we can find peace within our selves and learn to live in harmony with Her, not strip Her down of all she’s got. Nature is smart enough to replenish Herself if we can learn to listen to her cycles. She even allows us glimpses into Her secrets as our own scientific advancements. It’s not like She stands against us. No, She is clearly for our survival as well.