Time is so Compressed ...

... that a year becomes "just the other day, I--" comment. That's all a part of aging, I'm told. Repeatedly! Hummm. Isn't it said that in the Lord's eyes, a day is like a thousand years? Now there's age for you! Using that POV, I'm in good company. Yep, yep, yep.

I saw a great thought for the day quote that fits exactly where I'm at with my writing.

THOUGHT FOR THE DAY

"The pages are still blank, but there is a miraculous
feeling of the words being there, written in
invisible ink and clamoring to become visible."

~ Vladimir Nabakov

My particular pages are short--for a change--and will eventually come to the surface. Usually, I can't shut "Yesod" (that's my muse's name) up. He simply chatters on and on no matter what. I finally gave in and let him chatter away. The result: 3 long science fiction novels now making the rounds, 2 short stories in the same condition, and blabber-mouth Yesod prone on the couch. Not alone, I might add. He's sharing space with me. We will both get up soon and begin again. That's what a writer does--even when the pages appear blank. They aren't really. The words are there, written in invisible ink, just waiting for you to open your eyes and "see."

Someone asked me once, a very long time ago (only yesterday, I think), and in a joking manner if I knew what my muse looked like since I spoke of him as if he were a roommate. I do, as a matter of fact. A small, stone replica sits on my computer tower. Purchased from a little shop I was visiting with my sister. She loved bric-a-brac. We were definitely in the right shop! As I wandered down crowded aisles, arms close to my sides to avoid brushing shelves, one reached out, grabbed my hand, and whispered in my ear--Yesod. And there he sat. Like "The Thinker" except in gargoyle form. Did you know that gargoyles were really protectors? Anyway, Yesod accompanied me to the cash register and thence to my computer tower where he advises me of what comes next. Where did the name Yesod come from, you ask? The Tree of Life. Apropos, I think. Would you not agree?

That's all. Just wanted to share a bit or two with you. And if you write, don't despair over a blank page. The words are there. Trust me

WORDS OF WISDOM

There is much to think about in these few lines so take your time, think about what it's saying, and then come back now and again to see what you may have missed. It will take more than a casual read through to fully grasp the scope of these Words of Wisdom. IMHO. Author is unknown (Anon). Would that it had been me!

'May you trust that you are exactly where you are meant to be. May you not forget the infinite possibilities that are born of faith in yourself and others. May you use the gifts that you have received, and pass on the love that has been given to you. May you be content with yourself just the way you are. Let this knowledge settle into your bones, and allow your soul the freedom to sing, dance, praise and love. It is there for each and every one of us.'

Life in A Nutshell

One day, God created the dog and said: "Sit all day by the door of your house and bark at anyone who comes in or walks past. For this, I will give you a life span of twenty years."

The dog said: "That's a long time to be barking. How about only ten years and I'll give you back the other ten?"

So God agreed.

On the next day, God created the monkey and said: "Entertain people, do tricks, and make them laugh. For this, I'll give you a twenty-year lifespan."

The monkey said: "Monkey tricks for twenty years? That's a prettylong time to perform. How about I give you back ten like the dog did?"

And God agreed.

On the next day, God created the cow and said: "You must go into the field with the farmer all day long and suffer under the sun, have calves and give milk to support the farmer's family. For this, Iwill give you a life span of sixty years."

The cow said: "That's kind of a tough life. You want me to live for sixty years. How about twenty and I'll give back the other forty?"

And God agreed again.

Then on the next day, God created man and said: "Eat, sleep, play, marry and enjoy your life. For this, I'll give you twenty years."

But man said: "Only twenty years? Could you possibly give me my twenty, the forty the cow gave back, the ten the monkey gave back, and the ten the dog gave back; that makes eighty, okay?"

"Okay," said God, "You asked for it."

So that is why the first twenty years we eat, sleep,play and enjoy ourselves. For the next forty years, we slave in the sun to support our family. For the next ten years, we do monkey tricks to entertain the grandchildren. And for the last ten years. we sit on the front porch and bark at everyone. Life has now been explained to you. Live your life with acceptance, not expectance

Raincrows

Sometimes, you read or hear something that says "share" in a loud voice. The following recollection is one of those sometimes.

Our Little Rant by Eightball & Thundercloud First published in InfoAve Premium Issue #135 May 19, 2006Click to Subscribe Now!

RAINCROWS

Today was a rainy, unseasonably chilly day in May. I waited most of the day for the rain to stop so that I could take my daily walk. I've always liked to walk but just in the past couple months I've become an avid walker; motivated by recent health problems and spurred on by my Georgian friend, I try to walk at least one hour each day. Today was no exception. The rain finally stopped.Although it was very chilly for a day in mid-May, a light jacket and a brisk pace were all I needed to keep myself comfortably warm. The sidewalks and streets were glistening wet, the wind was calm, the sky a gloomy, endless overcast that made the time of day seem later than it really was. For those of you who walk you'll probably understand it when I say that a long walk exercises your mind as well as your body. I do my best thinking when I'm walking on a long walk as the day draws to a close. This evening with the wet streets, puddled sidewalks and lack of wind, the evening seem more quiet than most. And it was a Sunday too. There's something different about Sunday. It seems more peaceful than other days. Maybe it's just my imagination or maybe it's because not as many people are out hurrying to and fro with something important on their minds that needs to be done. Whatever it is, Sundays seem much different to me than other days, and this Sunday seemed even calmer and more peaceful than most.Walks are great for thinking and daydreaming. If you aren't a walker you'll have to take my word for it and if you are then you know exactly what I mean. But, I want to mention here that walking is great for starting up my time machine. And, if you walk it probably has started yours a few times too.Most of us have seen movies or read books where time machines whisk folks forward and backward into another place and time. These time machines, are of course, still fictional figments of author's imagination. But you might be surprised to learn that you can have a time machine. They cost nothing. You don't have to buy one. You have had one since the day you were born and you take it with you wherever you go. Your time machine is your mind and while it cannot take most people forward in time, it can take you back to another time and place. It can take you wherever you want to go.As I walked tonight I heard a raincrow. Most of you call them mourning doves. I call them raincrows. And I'll tell you why. When I was a young boy, probably six or seven, my grandfather and I used to sit out on the porch together most evenings. And sometimes, on a night like this one after it had rained and the evening was rather damp and dreary, we'd hear raincrows. I always loved their melancholy sound even when I was just a small boy. My grandfather told me that raincrows sing their sad songs whenever it is going to rain or after a rain. My grandfather was a smart man and he taught me a lot but I really don't think this little bit of knowledge is true. Nonetheless it sounded good to me when I was a boy. In fact, I still like to think it's true even though I know it's not. There's something special about raincrows. Raincrows remind me of someone special. And I'm a special person because I was special to him. And, come to think of it, I'm one of the few people who know what a raincrow is.Tonight, when I heard the raincrow's coo, it sounded even more peaceful and mournful in the fading light of this chilly and gloomy evening. Its melancholy lament took me back to a time when I, a small boy, sat next to the greatest man in the word and listened to the raincrows. They were special times and just for a moment as I walked along tonight, I was there on his front porch, sitting there, a little boy, in another place and time with someone I dearly loved. I was happy to be with my grandfather for those brief milliseconds, of an evanescent thought - a glimpse into the past thanks to the sad song of the raincrows and my very own time machine.The sound of my steps came back into focus and I was back in the present. The streets quiet and wet, the air chilly and still, in the middle of my-little-town-Sunday evening walk. But the raincrows still sadly cooed and my time machine took me back to autumn days long past and my grandfather and I walking along Plum Brook with a big paper sack. We were collecting buckeyes. If you're not from Ohio, the "Buckeye State", you might think buckeyes are a football team and you're partially right. Buckeyes though are nut-like things that fall from buckeye trees in autumn. You can do a lot thing with them, like make necklaces and use them for noisemakers by throwing them into a fire whereupon they explode with a delightful pop; but you cannot eat them. I think they are poisonous. But, trust me, I'm no expert and I sure I can't tell you from personal experience. I never ate one. I never wanted to. I have been told they are and that was good enough for me as a seven year-old boy and it's good enough for me now. Buckeyes are encased in a shell that looks like a little, light-green hand grenade with brownish spots. The prize, though, is inside. A buckeye resembles a chestnut. Sometimes people call buckeyes "horse chestnuts" - but don't ask me why. They're buckeyes to those of us who live in Ohio. To get at the nut inside, you can throw them on the ground, pound them with a hammer, or you can step on them (if you're heavy enough or bigger than a seven year-old boy) to squeeze the very shiny nut out of its shell.And as my mind wandered, my very own time machine took me back to a beautiful autumn afternoon, decades ago. And suddenly my grandfather and I were walking down Galloway Road to Plum Brook. We continued on off the road and walked along the banks of Plum Brook collecting buckeyes that had fallen from the trees; which were now brilliantly orange, yellow and red on a perfect Fall day. I scooped up buckeyes from the ground and put them in the large, paper grocery bag we had taken with us and filled it until it was brimming.. It got so heavy I could not carry it; but my grandfather could and he did. We walked along together with our bag of buckeyes, on a seemingly ordinary autumn day, just the two of us. Little did I know then how special that day would become.When we got home, I sat for a long time splitting open all the buckeyes we had collected to get at the nut inside. I called my grandfather to show him what I had done. We picked the most perfect ones and my grandfather took them and drilled a hole in the center of each. When he was done I began stringing them together fashioning a buckeye necklace. I wore it proudly because I had made it myself (with my grandfather's help of course).
These were good times; innocent times. They were times treasured. They are moments which will live in me as long as I am alive. They are times which will never come again. Simply wonderful memories of a simpler time when I, a child, lived in a much smaller and more innocent world.The journey in my time machine ended and suddenly, I could see my breath floating up in clouds floating silently in the cool, damp air. Night was was coming quickly;  I quickened my pace. This Sunday evening walk was an especially wonderful one, despite the cold and damp air. My time machine had been in perfect working order. A shiver ran through me as I realized that I had spent almost my entire walk with my grandfather tonight. He was with me even though he's been gone from this world for decades. As long as I remember him he will always be a part of my life. And he will live on within me as long as I am alive.
As I walked along alone on this peaceful, still, chilly Sunday evening I couldn't help but smile a sad, yet happy smile, when I heard the raincrow coo once more. His melancholy song had started my time machine. An my time machine took me back to a beautifully innocent time in my life and allowed me to share time once again with someone very special.I hope that all of you who have children or grandchildren will always remember that you can fuel a child's time machine and give them a lifetime of wonderful memories and moments they can relive over and over again. And, it won't cost you much money. The most beautiful memories are created when you're doing everyday things. Things that do not seem memorable while you're doing them sometimes can turn out to be the most precious of all. Like raincrows and buckeyes, it's the seemingly unimportant events and things in life that turn out to be the ones that we remember most fondly.If you have children or grandchildren remember that you can be the spark that will one day start their time machines.  And maybe when they hear a raincrow they'll think of you.
    

World Weaving

. . . is a creative process, one we practice every day. It's true! Every thought, every action, every decision we make creates the world we live in. Our responses to everyday stimuli shape our highest achievements and our lowest sorrows. Once we recognize that "today" is the only period that counts, it is much easier to see the wonder and the possibilities that come into our sphere of experience. Once we agree that yesterday is over and can never be changed and once we accept that tomorrow is nothing more than a speculative dream that may never occur, then--and only then--are we free from old thoughts, ideas, and emotions; then are we free to explore the wondrous possibilities of world weaving. Our world, our weaving.

"For one magnificent day, you can live with an abundance of love and goodness and grace shining inside of you." - Douglas Pagels

Voyages

. . . along the road of life often lead to destinations not planned, locales strange and disturbing, or the mundane, never changing landscapes we no longer see or appreciate. We poke and prod, searching for the new, the exciting, the challenging. Always with a vague sense of disappointment when what we search for remains elusive, as it must because we know not what it is that we hope to find. A conundrum. A paradigm. A mystery that once solved holds wonder and enlightenment; we ask ourselves why we missed it the first time around.

"The real voyage of discovery consists not in seeking new landscapes but in having new eyes."-Marcel Proust    

Writing a Novel

. . . is sometimes a real bitch! And sometimes, you walk into a world so fascinating, so mind-boggling you are almost certain it has to be a fantasy. I discovered one of those worlds while doing research for a science fiction story I'm trying to get on paper. That world is molecular biology--DNA, human genome, genes, amino acids, proteins and more. None of which work the way I thought they did. Take DNA for example. Or the human genome. We hear those words bandied about all the time, a kind of catch all phrase for us lay people. I understand the reasoning behind that, though. If the powers that be really went into an actual description of what we're all about, we'd probably turn off the news. Anyway, in trying to make certain that the science facts I use in my story are accurate, I started researching and fell into the rabbit hole. Which brings up a mental question. Do you think the scientists who specialize in those fields lose their initial wonder and awe? Do you think it becomes just another job? What an inconceivable thought! That's it for tonight--I have to get back to my studies. One of these days, I'll get back to my story writing.
Wordweaver

Cleaning the Mind

. . . is like cleaning house. First, you check the corners for cobwebs, especially up high near the ceiling. Cobwebs are unsightly in your home, but in your mind--oh, my! Plagued with fuzzy thinking, poor decision making, memory problems etc? Mental cobwebs for sure, excluding medical problems, of course--an overload in the stress department I've been told. Too many things to do, too little time to do them in. At least, that's what we tell ourselves. So, here's a tip. Once a week: steam up the bathroom, use every drop of hot water in your shower or tub, whichever you prefer. Listen to Tchaikovsky for an hour while you wait for the teabags on your eyes to do their thing. Have a hot-fudge banana split, take a walk around the block (not power walk, though), then settle down to a good book--NO television (it's only once a week, you can do it). In general--keep the world at bay for twenty-four hours.

Now you're ready to deep clean. Once you start, don't let more fun things distract you from your appointed tasks or, trust me, you'll be right back to cleaning cobwebs from the corners!

If none of the above work for you, try blogging for a sure fire cure.

That's it--I gotta go. My banana split is melting. Ummm, yummm.
Wordweaver    

Evolution vs Creation

. . . or should it be Creation vs Evolution? I suspect that depends on your point of view, but I have to ask myself--when was the last time either proponent stepped back and took a second look without preconditioned bias? There is a lot of misinformation and/or misunderstanding not only about the creationist view, but also about the  science of evolution. It seems to me that both parties have valid, non-competitive arguments that could be mutually beneficial rather than mutually exclusive and that reminds me of a quote I read at sometime or other in past years. To wit:

"Be very, very careful what you put into that head, because you will never, ever get it out." Thomas Cardinal Wolsey (1471-1530)

Procrastination

. . . can sometimes be a good thing.
So. Here I am. Procrastinating. Although, I prefer to call it "taking a break." I really should be doing a line edit on the story I'm working on, but instead, I've been trying to put together a Blog--a strange, new concept for me. However, after three hours and many mis-starts, I do believe I have a glimmer of how it's done. What I'll do is read others I can find and hopefully get a better feel for what this is all about. I may even read the instructions. :)

The foot has tested the water and found it agreeable. Tomorrow, I'll see how it feels to go a little deeper. Or not. We'll see.
Wordweaver