Low on the horizon, the sleepy fall equinox sun ploddingly awakens, bearing a gift before it’s winter nap.
Yawning and stretching, the celestial being prepares it’s brush with thick morning fog before dipping it into it’s spectral palette.
Blinking stubborn sleep from its eyes, our sleepy star warmly breathes fall colors into the cool morning breeze. The rolling mist carries splashes of crimson, orange and yellow on awaiting leaves.
Dripping wet leaves are heavy laden with hue. Prominent veins appear, telegraphing to Cardinals that winter, soon will be here.
The night is quiet less the shuffled sound of sandal turned desert rocks and labored breathing.
My hands grow increasingly numb with every step, backpack straps from the heavy pack full of all our worldly possessions restrict the blood flow to my arms, but we must keep going.
From the darkness an innocent voice asks, “What is that father?”
Vapor from our warm breath momentarily glows like a cloud, illuminated by the distant bright lights of the Kabul airport.
Without looking down, nor losing a step I respond, that’s hope my son, that’s hope”.
“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.
As I understand, Hemingway said that writing for a newspaper meant you needed to forget everything you learned from the previous day on the job and wipe the slate clean because there is a new story to be had for the next days headline.
In contrast, Hemingway said writing a story or a novel was to celebrate and apply what you know and learned in life..
I think relationships are the same way. Some are like newspapers and some are like a well written story or novel.
“Newspaper” relationships are all about the headline of the day. Slights, hurts or even joys for that matter experienced from the previous days story, mean little. Newspaper relationships are the days big headline with not allot of substance. At times you may wonder why you keep the subscription. If a newspaper relationship is to work, you must accept it for what it is and not rain on it with expectations lest it stop showing up on your front porch.
“Novel” relationships are like a favorite book that speaks to you. It is based on trust, commitment and mutual respect in which you allow yourself to be vulnerable, open to the story’s point of view and potentially grow as a person.
1979: Protest folk music was dying down and Disco had reached its peak.
“Begin the day with a friendly voice, a companion unobtrusive” blasted through the vibrating buzz alarm of the 1960s turquoise clock radio. (Time for school) “Spirit of Radio”by Progressive Rock band Rush Lyrics by Peart Neil Peart that is, aKa The Professor
Photo Source Pinterest
“If you choose not to decide, you still have me a choice” “And the meek shall inherit the earth” “Conform or be cast out” Prophetic words to pubescent outcast teens, proclaiming Peart understood. It’s been a year since Neil’s passing, RIP Professor Sept1952-Jan 2020
100 Words
Photo credit Rolling Stone magazine
Thank you Professor🤘🏼-Goroyboy
This was written for the photo prompt for Rochelle Wiscoff’s Friday Fictioneers 100 word story challenge . Although not a traditional short story. Given the photo prompt of an empty drum set along with the appreciation I have for the artist/poet/lyricist, Neil Peart I found a tribute was in order. additional stories based on the photo prompt can be found here
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!
Seeing those that have passed, my heart fills with love.
Gone is the weight of daily drama,
Which one is better, Trump, Biden or Obama?
Photo Credit: Denise Fullner Kittleson
I will rise,here souls have no gender, doctrine , origin, or race,
no conflict, hatred, color of face.
Time as we know it, does not exist, social media likes, or media twists.
I will rise, becoming stardust, from whence I came, free of life’s burdens, only love, no shame.
I will rise….
Revamped from an earlier version which I felt was timely. The peaceful pictures generously shared by friends reminded me that we will return to the stardust from whence we came.
Sitting quietly grinning, taking a well earned rest
The Elder watches the little ones, putting their youth to the test.
Not so long ago, she wore buckskin and tended pastoral sheep,
Cared for her babies, singing them softly off to sleep,
Off to war in a far off land protecting freedom, she never dreamed that she would find,
A barrel chested Austrian, handsome, brave, and kind.
They raised their kids Viktor, Linda and Cherry,
around the world and in Sydney BC where they often took the ferry.
Laughing was a common sound whenever her family was nearby,
Our Elder leaves a legacy and her passing brings a sigh.
Thank you Aunt Nellie, for your devotion, patience, love and carrying forward an example of a life well lived. Amen.
I was around 11 or so when I went to stay 2 weeks with Aunt Nellie, Uncle Vik and Cherry on Vancouver Island. The bellowing laugh of Uncle Vik, the kind sweet spirit of Aunt Nellie and Cherry’s welcoming smile, is forever embossed in my heart. ❤️
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