The Stages of a Simple Beginning (Starting Over)

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Morning Glory (photo by M.A.D.)

Ever had to start over, either by a conscientious and premeditated choice or by a forced circumstance? It is like the Spring that comes after the death of Autumn and the coldness of Winter. The difference between the two circumstances is the degree of trauma or excitement. Either way, one has to start somewhere. So, where to start? Obviously, safety is most important to consider. Once a person has a safe haven where primary needs are met, such as food, shelter, income, and other basic needs, only then a person can start recovering and dreaming again, but not until one has grieved the past. Grieving the past is the one thing that should not be avoided, the sooner the better, and the faster a person can recover from whatever circumstances caused a “starting over” situation. Even in a planned and voluntary fresh start, I have to leave things behind, a form of grieving. Only then, forgiveness is possible, of others and myself. Only then, I will be able to move forward towards a new day, a fresh start, a new beginning. The simpler the start, the better.

Simple beginnings hardly are simple. I have to find balance again, the old is gone, and the new, well, it has not fully arrived yet. I am in a suspended state for a brief time, a time where everything or mostly everything is new, unfamiliar, and unpredictable to some degree. Sometimes, one has to find oneself before charging to a brand-new future; a new present has its own challenges, some easier than others, depending on the circumstances that catapulted the change. Even when the change is planned and executed carefully, the unpredictable shows up.

When embracing a new beginning, a slow pace at first helps me see with more clarity the road ahead, even during sudden change. I might not be able to control circumstances, but I can slow down in the way I react to change; I can always control the part that is me. It all starts with me, and of course, faith. Hope will follow soon enough, and with hope, new dreams and possibilities. Once I start dreaming again, I have begun again.

As writers, many times we place one of our characters in such a predicament of starting over, and by not rushing a character through all the stages of a simple new beginning, we are building the character’s credibility and ultimately that character’s truth. When we don’t rush ourselves, and we go through the same stages, we start regaining confidence, believing in ourselves once more, finding our truth. But life is not fiction, even if we deny reality and try to live in our own fantasy. Eventually, the fantasy dissolves and we are left with the possibility of change, of making the decision of a simple new beginning, even when that might be just as simple as embracing a brand-new day, as it is for many. During that time, kindness to ourselves and others on the way will make the most significance.

When we focus on our differences, we don’t see need, and we miss an opportunity for kindness. Kindness with promotion cheapens it. Kindness without forgiveness cancels it.

Little Miracles of Life

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Tiniest snail (Photo by M.A.D.)

I was helping my husband who was working on our water well. The area we live in has been in severe drought, and has not recovered yet, so our well was not working properly. His tools were scattered all over the ground, so I started to gather them in one place. As I picked up the tool in the above photo, I thought dirt was attached, but upon closer inspection, I realized it was the tiniest snail I have ever seen. In the photo, you can see it between the numbers 2.5 and 3. Very gently, I picked it up and put it in a safe place in the garden. Nature is just amazing and it speaks constantly of the wonders of our Lord.

A Robin’s Tale

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Robin (Photo by M.A.D.)

Since childhood, we are conditioned to see things as useful, utilitarian, and with a purpose. We learn it from our parents, at school, and later on, from all the messages we receive from society. The messages tell us that things must have a purpose, a use, to be valuable. We learn to equate utility with value, and eventually, with how good or bad things are. It is a subtle message, one that can hardly be spotted in our minds, in the way we view and judge things/people/life.

The robins are back, a sign that the lovely weather of spring days will soon arrive. Although they have their place in nature, it is not obvious to me how they impact an environment. At first glance, they might not seem “useful” at all, but for me, it is a sight that besides beauty, it brings me joy, peace, and relaxation. For me, they are valuable. Things don’t have to always be useful to be valuable. The mere existence of those pudgy birds is enough. God made them perfect.

Sometimes, we judge ourselves, we measure ourselves with the same ruler. We judge our value according to how “useful” we are, to how much we do in a day, how successful we are in life, how much money or possessions we have, or not. We go a step further and we compare ourselves to other people, whom we also judge, and we mentally and emotionally assign ourselves a “place” in the timeline of success. We think that we are in a lesser position than we should be, or that we are not enough according to those imaginary standards.

The same God who created the robins created us with value to Him. As part of His magnificent and perfect creation we have a valuable place in it, whether we see it or not. Maybe if we can accept our being, the immense value we have to our Creator, we might not be so harsh unto ourselves, and maybe, we will start seeing ourselves and our brothers and sisters with the loving eyes of our Creator, who is the perfect source of it all, including us, and the robins.

“I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made; your works are wonderful; I know that full well.”

Psalm 139:14

De-evolution?

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I have a dream; that one day, people in this country, from the top down, will have manners and decorum once more. I don’t know what has happened, and I never expected to see it in my lifetime, but people have become uncivilized. When I see how people who have higher positions in our government talk to one another, the type of crass language, cursing, and simply, the kind of less than civilized behavior they display, I have to ask myself what happened to an older generation that once viewed decorum and manners as something of value, moral value, the same generation that equated such public display of inappropriate and vulgar behavior to a lack of intelligence. We behave as cavemen who cannot control a single emotion, whose brains are still in development, from an evolutionary point of view.

My goodness, what has happened to us? Our demeanor is not better than that of medieval characters who believed in fallacies, myths, and superstition, and execute faulty reasoning. It is 2026, and with all the accessible knowledge and technology we have, it seems as if we are de-evolving, going back to a primal state; pretty soon, we will be pounding our chest and howling.

“Pride goes before destruction, and a haughty spirit before a fall.” (Proverbs 16:18 ESV)

How Do I View Independent Publishing Now?

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Many years ago, I wrote about my decision to pursue independent publishing, specifically, print on demand method, and how important this technological development was in making my dream of becoming an indie author possible. At the time, there were many views on independent publishing vs traditional publishing, but mostly, the disdain for independent publishing by the traditional publishing industry. Basically, they viewed it as an author’s career suicide. At the time, and after much research done, I decided that independent publishing aligned more with my views and expectations, work ethic, and my writing style and future endeavors.

For a while, as independent publishing in venues like Amazon and others continued to develop and evolve, it seemed promising and liberating for many authors, as well as affordable. However, with the passing of time, a “gold rush” environment emerged, and it seemed to attract other people who wanted to make a quick buck, who could care less about writing, and who plain and simple stole other author’s work, modified it, and published it as their own. The worst-case scenario that traditional publishing so warned us about, materialized. Now, with the development of AI, another layer has been added to the chaos that already enveloped the independent publishing industry. The speedy AI creation of stories and even the modification of stolen work by using AI is real. Indie authors who care about the craft are facing an overcrowded environment where it is hard to distinguish the good from the ugly, making it harder for their work to be found by readers.

So, how do I feel about independent publishing now, after all the new challenges, perils, and a less than attractive environment for indie authors? How do I feel about traditional publishing now, after seeing what has become of the independent publishing industry? Because honestly, even the so-called vanity publishers of the past seem more attractive now in comparison. If anything, the farmers who own the cows are the ones who benefited either way. Well, I have to say that independent publishing still aligns more with my writing style, the method, that is; however, if back then, I knew what the future would hold for the industry, I would definitely be discouraged to follow that path, and I would seriously have considered traditional publishing. It has become a garbage dump, a less than attractive venue for my taste, and I have to admit that traditional publishing still holds the golden medal, as far as a reputable venue, although much of it has changed in various ways. The flood gates were opened without any type of filtration system, and now, at least for me, this type of venue for independent publishing lacks appeal, honesty, and trust worth.

I don’t know what the future will hold for me as an indie writer, and I may have to go back to basics through research and study of an industry that seems to have fallen short of my expectations. Writing is what I love to do, and I guess that I should be asking myself if I want to do it under today’s circumstances of a less than appealing environment for me as an independent author. It is something that I have to answer myself, seriously and with honesty.

Evil

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Evil is a theme in my novels, but it is viewed in a supernatural way, not so much as a real condition, such as in a crime novel. Unless you are a victim of evil personified, most people think of it as something remote; it exists, might be supernatural or not, depending on your spiritual beliefs, and it manifests through human behavior. Since I can remember, I have always considered the supernatural side of evil to be real, but also, I was raised by a religious and devoted catholic grandmother, one who would tell me stories of old, ingrained in an ancient culture, stories of witches and demons, and supernatural beings that happened in the past. Lore or not? It doesn’t matter, but it did permeate into my novels. It probably shaped my views and interest in the topic, but also, fueled my curiosity; so much, that once, I dared asked a priest if he believed that evil was real. He answered something generic, that evil was in this world … I interrupted him and rephrased the question: “Do you believe that the Devil is real, that demons exist?” He looked at me a bit surprised, but calmly he said, “Yes, it is real.” I asked, “Why doesn’t the church tell people the truth?” His answer resonates in my memory until this day. He said, “Because most people would not be able to handle the truth.” I understood and I did not keep pressing him on the topic. I never asked again, but I always remember the answer.

More than three decades have gone by, which takes me back to my novels and the theme of good vs. evil in the supernatural sense. The current novel I was writing (and I say was writing because I stepped away from it for a while) does not follow the same lines, as far as this theme goes, although it has a bit of a supernatural flair mixed in more with the human condition. I asked myself the other day, did I step away from my “niche,” did I abandon my personal quest? Is this why the current novel seems so challenging or is there something more to it? I am not forcing the writing of this novel, but I know one hundred percent that I have to write the story, however the flow of it is very different, but I know that I am the one causing it. There are a few stories that are waiting to be written, all of them calling me at once, however, I know that until I conquer this one, in mind and soul, I will not be able to tend to the next one. Now, it is personal.

At a Close Glance

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Nature never ceases to amaze me, and so does refusing to see the truth.

I always thought this tiny beetle was black. It is the size of a pinhead. It wasn’t until I decided to take a picture of it and zoom it that I realized all its beautiful colors. At a glance, it looks black, but it is not. Now, I see it with very different eyes.
Buzzards are welcomed here in Chatham. We even have a buzzard festival.

Jester enchants the crowd,

at the ivory palace,

the half, mesmerized, dance.

The Mystifying Nature of Time

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The other day, I had a conversation with my sister that made me think about time, mortality, and my perception of these. She watched a video in which a former supermodel now in her sixties, said that if she were to live until her eighties, she will have about 20 more summers to enjoy. Being about her age, the realization that 20 summers is not too many hit me. Imagine writing these numbers down and crossing each one as time goes by and realizing that 20 is such a finite number and thus, the fragility and brevity of one’s existence. Overwhelming on paper for sure.

Time is aloof. It is long, it is short, it is real, but also measured by our kind, by our humanity. It is freely given; it is used and misused. It is ignored when we think we have much of it but wanted when it seems scarce or limited. It is a blessing but a curse for many. Perception defines it, for every person differently; we give it meaning. It is constant but forgettable. It is natural but also, supernatural and mystifying.

Summers come and go. I never thought about them as a finite number. When I think of what I did last summer, much of it eludes me. Did I enjoy it? Did it just go by as any other season? For some reason, when you start numbering your summers, your life seems to have gone faster, time seems to speed up, and the realization of how fragile one’s existence is, and how special it is as well, certainly puts many things into perspective. Memories are markings of the passing of time. I guess that my point to all of this rambling is that time is a gift, a blessing we are given, and our days are not guaranteed. No one knows for sure what this day will bring, or if it will be the last, so in that sense, would a number even matter?

For us time is linear, but also, it is more than that. Just think of everything that happens at once in your life, with all your interactions, and the people in your circle and beyond, all around you, all interconnected in some supernatural and natural way. Live well the blessing of a new day and be grateful for the time that has been given to you; it is all a gift from above. I am certainly looking forward to this summer.

Photo by M.A.D.