“Thaw”

“Thaw”

“I don’t want to talk about it, but the quiet might be worse”-Sabrina Song “Thaw” Official video

Powerful lyrics, so reflective of the times we live in. A long emotional winter.

“Emotional Winter” photo by Raymond Roy

Personally over the past year, an increasing number of my relationships, typically after “Speaking my truth” have grown cold and I have literally run out words to say. Left only with the heavy dense fog of silence residing in what seems to be ever widening gaps.

I recently heard that in Vietnam, there is a saying, “before you speak your mind, wait for seven heartbeats” (perhaps a lesson to speak from the heart rather than the mind). I suspect the isolating truths I spoke were not from my heart but rather from my mind(ego). As Tolle puts it so well in “The Power of Now”, Egos win when they convince us to focus on the mistakes of our past and the worries of the future. Living in the present moment is the ego’s nemesis.

In the present moment, neither the past nor the future exist……

By design we all need to feel loved, be treated with kindness, and dignity. We need the warmth of an emotional Spring. I am ready to “thaw” by striving to live in the warmth of the present moment and stand ready to count to seven in order to speak from my heart, and not my mind. I hope you’ll join me.

-Goroyboy

The Yard Sign

I often walk or bicycle around our small town’s neighborhoods with my wife. As the upcoming election nears, front yards are adorned with candidates names displayed on yard signs, banners, and even up flag poles at times in place of the American flag.

Perhaps 50+ %of the yards in town are garnished with political collateral and not inconspicuously, 99% of the endorsements represented one party.

As life would have it, I happen to NOT support the highly visible party on popular display.

So…I ordered my yard sign.. when we returned home today, there it was in the front yard.

As I pushed the sign’s wire supports deeper into the dry clay soil, I swear I heard it say something, “What am I doing here?” “Are you sure this is the correct address?”

“ I heard your last sign got stolen”

As the day faded toward dusk, I was on the my front porch with my back to the street, painting my front door.

“I like your sign a voice called out”, I turned to see a lady walking her two dogs stopped on the sidewalk in front of my yard. “Thank you. Kinda stands out from all the others in town, doesn’t it? “ I replied.

“Yes it does” she chuckled nervously..

I responded, “ there is probably more opposition support in our town than people want to let on to.”

“I totally agree, I was actually afraid to put out a sign” she nervously shared.

“If you are afraid to put out a sign in your own front yard, perhaps that says allot doesn’t it? “ I said.

“Yes it does, but I feel better now after talking to you. Thank you.” she said as she lead her two fluffy companions onward..

“I feel better as well, Thank You, have a good evening”

I returned to my painting but not before looking at my yard sign, Which seemed to stand up just a little straighter.

-Goroyboy

A sign can also be a “symptom” which conveys meaning. Vote!

Chapter 2

“The Rescue”

The shock from the fox regeneration, (from Chapter 1)sent an intense spasm through Bella’s body. It started at the base of her neck, traveled down her spine and snapped her curly tail straight like the whip of a muleskinner. 

Traffic whirred by.  

A string of orange barrels dotted the rural state road,

Click clock,

click clock.  

The clacking rhythm of a flashing arrow sign provided a moderate tempo as Bella trotted along the road shoulder. As the mechanized cadence faded , plumes of carbon diesel exhaust clouded the turquoise blue sky, rumblings reminiscent of the junkyard, reminded Bella of her mother.  

Further down the road, Bella came upon a road construction  truck parked on the pavement shoulder, “sniff-sniff”…something smelled heavenly. Bella cautiously cleared the truck’s undercarriage in pursuit of the deliciousness.  A construction worker named Maria Lopez sat in the truck’s passenger side seat. Her boot laden foot propped the door open as she enjoyed the beautiful weather. Unwrapping the foil from her lunch, an egg, potato, and chorizo burrito, she took her first bite and a morsel tumbled out the door, onto the ground. Bellas wet ebony nostrils  flared wide open drawing in the scent to full effect. 

 

Unable to contain herself, she darted to the food scrap, flawlessly picking it up like a ballboy retrieves faulted balls at Wimbledon. 

Taking refuge back under the truck. Bella waited for subsequent mana from heaven. Another morsel dropped, as she retrieved it, her tender paws shuffled the roadside gravel. As Bella retreated under the truck, Maria caught sight of her. Grinning to herself, Maria threw another piece of potato out the door. The playful dance continued for a few minutes then Maria placed some egg just out of Bella’s reach, atop the truck doorstep.  

Letting out an involuntary  whimper, Bella’s  hunger got the best of her.  She creeped cautiously under the step. Wet nose positioned against the cold tube steel of the step and like a gecko catching a cricket, Bella darted out her pink tongue, snatching up the egg. Maria burst out laughing! 

Stepping down to the pavement, sitting on her haunches, Maria beamed with pleasure at the sight of the adorable scavenger. Longing for the  kindness of her mother, Bella sensed tenderness  in Maria’s face. Taking on a submissive posture with her curly tail wagging, she tinkled a bit on the pavement as she drew closer to Maria. 

Sitting down fully on the ground, Maria’s hand extended, “come on Perrito” “I won’t hurt you”, almost at a belly crawl, the weary pup could no longer be contained as she leapt into Maria’s lap, almost knocking her over. Nuzzling and whining, Bella frantically licked Maria’s neck, her needle teeth gently nibbling and whiskers tickling. 

“ Easy  Easy Perrito! “ Maria giggled. “Oh and you stink!” she said laughing. She shared the rest of her Lunch with Bella. With a full melon shaped tummy, Bella fell asleep in the shade under the work truck. 

5 o’clock came, Maria, returning to the truck, the gravel shuffling underfoot woke Bella. Excited to see Maria, Bella whined and wagged up to her. “So Perrito , what am I to do with you?”she said. Bella whimpered and nuzzled in. “It looks like you have already decided for me.” she said, “Vamos Perrito , I am taking you home.”

Thank you for taking the time to visit my blog and read my first chaptered short story. Today is the real-life Bella’s birthday. She brings so much joy to our home, we love her.

-goroyboy

“Comfortable Chains” #abuse #selfawareness

It is difficult to free fools from the chains they revere“- Voltaire

Who among us doesn’t at least for a moment think the fool Voltaire speaks of, is someone other than ourselves?

We all have chains don’t we?

Chains come in many forms, pride, hatred, greed, spite, envy, These seem obvious as they exude evil.

But what are the “revered” chains Voltaire spoke of?

May I propose they are the shackles of codependency, and physical and/or emotional abuse? Why don’t victims break free of these bindings?

Unfortunately, victims can be so beaten down that sadly this abuse provides a warped sense of security. Knowing that they (the chains) are if nothing else, always there.

Be safe and take care of yourself first so, you can care for others.

Peace.

Raspberries

Raspberries

As a kid working in the raspberry fields, in Lynden, WA, it was always about how many pounds did you pick?

15 cents a lb. toward school clothes and money for getting into the HS football games. I think the most I ever picked in one day was 200lbs or around 30$, I was on top of the world. Looking at a raspberry at times brought stress thinking of those long days in the fields. Days of hoping to hear to impact heads of the irrigation running for some flooded relief in the July heat. Today I grow raspberries in my garden, how much did I pick? Just enough to enjoy. Peace.

Straw-man by Raymond Roy #FFfaw #fiction

He is a Liar!! A liar, a fornicator and I can’t stand it any longer! Mitzie had conviction in her voice as she addressed the Church board. Squeezing out a few tears completed the effect. The accused, Pastor Rigby, stunned, waiting for the church board to react. Rigby had perhaps squeezed a little out of his Church personal expenses, but what in the hell was she talking about?

Earlier that day, as the Church-administrator, Mitzie was denied vacation time by Rigby. By God he was going to pay. It started with texts to the church district office. Next lunch with the assistant pastor.

“Look Jeffery, you want that top spot don’t you? ” Jeffrey was puzzled until he saw the devious look in Mitzie’s eye. Give us a kiss Jeff, and leave the rest to me.

There was no wrong doing by Rigby but like any good strawman fallacy, her lies lit the straw-man on fire, Rigby couldn’t put it out.

Margarita glasses, “clink”in Cabo. Cheers Señor! Or should I say Senior Pastor Jeff!

Word Count-175

As a former Church Board member, Nothing could be truer than the idea of “truth being stranger than fiction”. Just as the Strawman mentioned in this story, the repeating of rumors,(even in denial of the rumors) only cultivate them toward being believed.

Written for Flash fiction for Aspiring Writers thanks to our gracious host Priceless Joy and thanks to Ellespeth for the photo prompt. To read other stories based on the photo prompt click here

Peace.

“You Must Like Butter” By Raymond Roy #writephoto #domesticabuse

You Must Like Butter” By Raymond Roy #writephoto

The bright yellow flowers were reminiscent of when as a child, we would hold a dandelion under each other’s chin. If your chin reflected yellow, it meant you liked butter.

The fringes on the brand new fat rubber tires created a whirring sound as the whipped against the bicycle frame. A campfire effect of the warm sun on my back with a cool headwind brought a clammy sweat to the hair on the back of my neck.

Turning off the road onto a cleared soil path carved in the canola field, the ground was like a grainy dampened beach. The soil almost pebble-like yet firm enough to keep me moving forward. The canola plants were in full bloom.

The musky sweet scent sang a sirens song to the nectar drunken, pollen-laden sleepy bees as they made their way to work.

I found it difficult to keep my mouth full closed as my upper lip continued to swell. The iron rich salty blood crusted on my lower lip, the crimson vital fluid I had swallowed, sat in my stomach like a dagger.

At the base of the ridge I coasted under the bridge to the coal shadowed stream. As I ducked under the bridge. A small cloud formed from my warm breath as it floated out from the shade into the sunlight.

Pulling my hoodie sleeves up, I plunged my swollen hands into the icy stream. Cupping water up to my puffy lip, it was difficult to drink as if I just came back from the dentist. I took off my hoodie. Washing my face and the back of my neck felt good, I felt alert.

A few river rocks rolled down toward me. I sat down, on the moss laden bank, knowing they had come for me. “Melissa Taylor!! “ a voice yelled from atop the bridge. “Melissa Taylor!!, We have a warrant for your arrest!”

“What took ya so long?” , I yelled back. As I sat in the back of the squad car I remembered they left my new bike back there. They one he forbade me to buy(with my own money), hopefully a needy child will find it and make good use of it.

“Why did you kill him Melissa?”

“Just keeping a promise.”drool stringing down as I struggled to be articulate, “I promised he would die the next time he laid a hand on me.”

The full sun had come out, I could see my reflection looking from the backseat into the side mirror of the car. My whole face had a yellow glow from the golden fields.

I guess that means I like really like butter.

Peace

Goroyboy

Domestic Violence.

If you are a victim or know a victim of domestic violence, you are not alone. You are not what someone else says you are. You are who YOU say you are. Domestic Violence Help Line

Written for Sue Vincent’s # writephoto photo prompt. Thanks Sue for hosting.

Indeed I Do by Raymond Roy

Indeed I Do By Raymond Roy

A deed that is done is more than simply an action,For once completed, no retraction.

In the deeds I do, I cannot regret. No future worry, no time to fret.

For it is one life I am given, I pray I do not waste, aspirations toward deeds, that feed egos, arrogance, and the two faced.

To others deeds I should make no mind, of passing judgement, be they evil, malicious or unkind.

At times, my views may seem etched in stone, but they are mine, and I alone, avow my deeds, indeed I do,

Yes indeed I DO, in the deeds, I do.

Peace

-Goroyboy

“The Ego” by Raymond Roy

I cannot hold you in my hand, and the foundation of your lies are built on sand.

If I extend an open hand, a clenched fist is likely what you’ve planned.

If I give you residence in my mind ,you would have me be unkind

If I bring you to where love exists, you reassure me I should resist.

If I show you where you are mistaken, any semblance of truth is then forsaken.

Ego, I am self aware, that you destroy, my wanting to care.

To not care for others serving only my selfish needs, inside I’m waiting for the power of Love, to intercede.

To destroy you Ego is a daily decision , your Children named anger, envy and spite, fog my vision.

My vision for a state of mind, occupied by Love’s Children, whose thoughts are to listen, understand, and be kind.

Peace. -Goroyboy