If you live in the USA, by now you might have heard of the new Texas law on the abortion issue. Let me disclose for the purpose of this blog post, that I am pro-life; however, there was a time when I was much younger, in my twenties, that I considered myself pro-choice. Maturity, and understanding life from another perspective, which I will not discuss here because it would be a lengthy philosophical discussion, led me to what I believe and support now – the right of every human being to live, a shot to be on this planet and become whatever he/she wants to be with God’s blessing. Who am I to prevent that?
I was watching the news on this issue, and two interviews caught my attention. In one, a physician who worked at an abortion clinic in Texas said something about the situation and the Texas law – “It is inhumane, and we are tired …” I am not here to judge anyone, that is God’s job, not mine, but it is interesting to me the choice of words this doctor used. While it is inhumane that he cannot perform abortions on his clinic, apparently, killing babies is not. Uh? Denying a chance for living to a baby is not inhumane? Last time I checked, that fetus belonged to the human species.
On another interview, a nurse at another abortion clinic in Texas said, “..for a woman to have to drive x amount of milesto another state that allows abortions, for a procedure that would take 10-15 minutes is cruel.” Here is another word – cruel – so, it is cruel for someone to have to drive so far, an inconvenience for sure, but it is not cruel to kill a baby. I guess we will have to redefine the entire dictionary eventually.
Pay attention to the words people use around you, and you will see where society is headed. The words that we use today are the reality of tomorrow. Of its words a society becomes.
It is almost September, and by now, I should have collected several baskets of veggies, but not this year. The dry and hot weather in my area has made growing food challenging – no tomatoes yet, no giant sunflowers, and no signs of the beginnings of a pumpkin or even a cantaloupe – Where have all the veggies gone? Some of the plants died, even when we were watering once a day every other day or two. I only collected this so far, and even the lettuce, the easiest thing to grow, did not do so abundantly.
And that is it! Tomorrow it will be the first day of September, and I hope I can get at least a couple tomatoes before cold weather hits. The plants are not looking too promising, but I hope there is still a bit of time, although I think it will be slim pickings, and I will be grateful for it.
Unrelated but lovely.
They have their food, they pollinate, and we will have ours as well; not so unrelated now.
It happened on New Year’s Eve, years ago. My husband was in the living room and we were about to watch the New York ball drop on T.V. (No, we were not drinking). It happened in a matter of seconds, very fast but very profound. As I stood in front of the kitchen sink, about to finish up and join my husband in the living room, suddenly, I was hit with an immense feeling of joy and love like I had never experienced before. It engulfed my whole being. I felt as if I was part of the entire universe, of everything that surrounded me, even the material. I was everything and everything was me, but all of it was engulfed by this immense love, unlike anything else. I heard this voice in my mind, but not audible, just present in my mind, and apart from my own thoughts – “Hold on to the feeling,” the voice said. In an instant, I was back, and I could not explain what had happened. A very small part of that feeling remained in me for the next couple of days, almost like a side effect. I kept thinking about the voice – “Hold on to the feeling” – but I could not recapture it. The greatness and oneness, the immensity of it is hard to explain with words, even today, as I recall the experience.
Much later on, that memory helped me through a very rough time. I knew that I was never alone. I don’t know why, or how, but I think that I was given a tiny glimpse of God’s love and oneness that day. I don’t think that my being would have been able to take all of it; it was sublime, supreme, great and indescribable. Today, I think about that day, and I share it here with the hope that it speaks to anyone who might be feeling alone, unloved, or unworthy. That it speaks about how much God loves us, and His immense kindness and care. You are not alone, God loves you, and you are valuable to Him. The entire planet seems a big giant ball of twine these days. The events happening around the world might be overwhelming to some people; I know these have affected me, however, even when I cannot recapture that feeling today exactly, I reminisce of it, and know that I am not alone, and neither are you.
I have been working with recycled pieces of wood, just following the natural lines of the wood with oil pastels. I call it wood whispering. It is very relaxing and you can let your imagination go, letting the wood whisper what it wants to become. In this case, a winter scene – deer enjoying a magic show as the aurora borealis paints the evening sky.
Signs are everywhere, that is, if we take the time to see and listen. Have you ever heard someone say, “Signs of the times?” It refers to characteristics of a particular era or present time, or even alluding to certain events that are expected to happen, such as “end times” or other. Signs could also be warnings given to us from above before something is about to happen or we are about to make the wrong decision. Different from clues, which take us forward, from one to the next and so on, in order to reveal something or truth, signs serve more as a beacon, a warning just on time.
I have had signs before something is about to happen. For example, on one occasion, I gave a ride to a coworker who was sabotaging me at work, unbeknownst to me. A small glass blown angel that I had hanging from my backing-up mirror, suddenly broke in pieces and fell just as this person sat in the car. I could not explain why and how it happened because it was well secured with a sturdy chain, and the chain remained intact, not broken. Although I found the incident unusual at that time, I ignored it. It was a warning from above, which I understood later on.
In writing, sometimes we use signs and clues when creating a story. Mystery thrillers are a good example. However, one should separate one from the other. Clues take you to a destination, signs warn you about it. Many people refer to these as one and the same, but I view these as different in purpose. I made use of clues in my novel Moonlit Valley, as the main character Rose Carrigan follows a path that reveals the truth. I made use of signs also, such as a warning given to her by Black Hawk, one of her protectors. Signs and clues are sparingly used throughout my novels, which deal with the topics of the Divine and the supernatural. As a writer, I try not to center the story solely on clues and signs. I think these should enhance the story not become it.
I have been in awe over the last couple of days admiring these ladies (and gentlemen) in my garden. I had been telling my husband that this year I have not seen as many butterflies as other years past. It must be that everything has been so dry from the lack of rain, only a few showers here and there, but no significant amount. Other areas close by have enjoyed more showers. The flowers have withered, some that were ready to bloom as well, and the veggies are growing slow – no tomatoes yet; only four cucumbers made it to the table along with a few leaves of lettuce. If anything, we will have a late harvest. We have been watering every other day, but it does not seem to be enough. Just when my gardening enthusiasm was fading a bit, we were blessed with a couple of short heavy showers overnight, and also the butterflies have been visiting the only source of nectar that has been doing good around here during the season.
I am grateful that I can enjoy watching them, their beauty, and share it with you here. I hope you enjoy this post.
Sometimes, you just don’t know what pieces of wood are going to tell you. The other day, I was looking through some pieces of scrap wood that my husband saved for me to use in future projects. I came across a couple of pieces that whispered to me what they wanted to become. As soon as I looked at them an image in the wood grain appeared; so I listened.
You never know what wood is going to whisper, might as well listen. Hope you enjoyed this post.
If you happened to look up last night, you saw a Buck Moon. It is a July moon named Buck because these animals grow new antlers about this time. It has other names as well. I was able to take some quick pictures of this gorgeous moon. By now, you know that I have been in love with the moon all my life, since I was a kid. I remember when I first saw the moon through a telescope. I was about six years old, and a Pastor who rented the house in front of my grandmother’s home had a telescope set up on his porch. One night, he let me look through it, and I was in awe, and remain in awe until this day. It is one of my fondest memories.
Birthright – A right or privilege to which a person is entitled by birth.
Destiny – The seemingly preordained or inevitable course of events.
Free Will – The power or discretion to choose.
(American Heritage Dictionary)
These are topics/ideas that are common in many novels, whether paranormal, historical fiction or other. The Dinorah Chronicles trilogy presents the idea of birthright as central to the series from denial to acceptance to fulfillment. At first glance, these three concepts might appear different or even contradictory to each other, however, these fuel each other, and in the end, the character chooses (free will) to fulfill a birthright and/or what might be viewed as destiny. A birthright might be given but a destiny is chosen by the exercise of free will, whether that birthright is fulfilled or not. In the end, the character finds “self” or grows into the pursuit of knowledge.
The Dinorah Chronicles is available via Amazon in eBook and paperback format.
Most heroes accept their calling, even when they might hesitate at first. They choose to follow their purpose. Their purpose eventually becomes their identity, and if that purpose fails, ceases to exist, even momentarily, the hero/main character loses her/his identity. When the purpose , the calling, the birthright becomes the goal/the existence, it becomes more important than the hero or anyone else, and it usually translates (ironically) in the denial of self, the neglect of loved ones, all for the good of humanity – the ultimate goal. Just like a fire, it consumes the hero’s soul, and takes over everything around her/him quickly. Sometimes the hero finds balance, sometimes not; however, most likely, the hero finds the self along the way.