Learned from one of my characters.

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Sometimes characters take on a life of their own. They often surprise me.
As the end of my first apocalyptic love story neared, I found myself writing a totally unplanned scene in which a bitter, sadistic character is given a second chance. An unplanned sequel “Journey to Redemption” materialised tracing his physical and emotional journey across a dangerous new world from Wyoming to Taiwan.
Presently, trapped in Los Vegas, he becomes henchman to an ex showgirl run crime ring. I thought this would be an exciting addition to the plot, but I’m seeing more and more as I write, how only in seeing himself in her can he begin to make the changes he needs.
How true that is of life, it’s often only when we see our own vices manifest in others we become desperate enough to change.

Forest.

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forest

Leaves of orange and red rustled in the breeze above her. She loved the forest, the solitude. Here she could be truly alone with her memories, indulge her senses to the full with no eyes to watch. She danced, spinning in circles, trancing passing patterns in piles of past years leaves now brown and gold. She smiled, giving voice to her joy, for the birds and woodland creatures alone.

Stopping to recline on a weathered stump she glanced at its aged rings. So had her life been, circles growing outward, growing stronger. Within lay the marks of time, the storms, the years of want, the years of plenty, the years its heart had near frozen. She stroked the smooth surface in understanding. The tree no longer lived here, converted to furnishings it now enjoyed a different existence, yet its roots remained, the story of its life embalmed like a woodland throne.

Her eyes reached up to the sky above, shafts of sunlight patterning the canopy, as the sun broke through the cloud transforming the air to gold. She sucked in her breath at the beauty of it all. Why couldn’t life always be like this? Why didn’t people seem to understand?

She thought about the ugliness of her job, the sordid squalor of the city streets. She wanted to help, to make a difference, yet it so often ended the same. Young lives grew distorted in the urban landscape.

Perhaps if she brought them here, perhaps here they too could be free to grow, to expand? Funding was always short, but she had wealthy clients also. Perhaps they’d see it if she brought them here. Perhaps they too might benefit? A picture formed in her head, something simple, nothing grand, just a place they could come out here in the woods where rich and poor might mingle, might learn from the world around them,  might grow strong and healthy.  Despite her studies she fought a losing battle, but here, perhaps here, one might turn the tide?

Things we take for granted.

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wrist

I’m learning a lesson along these lines due to a problem with my wrist. I don’t know what’s wrong with it (neither does the doc.) but as of yesterday for no apparent reason I can’t put any weight on it or carry even the lightest thing, though it has near perfect mobility.

It’d seem no major problem to “rest it up and see how it goes” as the doc. said, after all I do have two hands. The truth is it’s far from easy, from riding my bike (I never realized till now I lean on my left handle bar when pushing off) to trying unsuccessfully to put on a pillow case (it requires coordination of both hands). I’m finding tons of little everyday tasks have now become difficult and have been ordered not to do any more gardening or allotment work for the next few days (a great frustration as my little seedlings are winking at me) as it will aggravate it. (Hmmm I wonder if the doc included typing – surely not!?)

OK, my sweet left wrist, I am truly sorry for taking you so much for granted. I promise if you’ll just go back to normal I’ll remember just how precious you are!

New Beginings Old Wisdoms

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mountain sunrise

A new year peeps out before us like the first glimmers of sunrise glimpsed over the mountains.

Should I run yelling, arms waving towards it or pause just a moment before the light is upon me to look back? I glance over the year that’s passed, what progress, what victories, what dreams fulfilled I ask myself? I take account remembering the high ideals with which I started its predecessor.

A new question forms. What have I learnt? What wisdom can I take with me on my journey towards the rising sun, (for wisdom I have learnt is worth far more than achievements). Like a “get out of jail free” card wisdom can be traded in along life’s journey, it’s “ready cash.”

Progress? Yes, this blog is evidence of that. Victories? Yes, there have been many. Dreams fulfilled? Not yet but I follow a path that leads in that direction. Wisdom gleaned? Yes, (but those lessons were the hardest).

I turn again towards the rising sun, my backpack now set and loaded with dreams new and old, lessons, and past test papers I stand ready for what this new year may bring to light as it graces the heavens.

Ode to Atlantis.

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atlantis

Down where the silver fishes play
Sunk down deep in its decay
Where once the proud like peacocks stood
Lies shattered stone like shards of wood.

It’s peaceful there now down in the depths, no more slaves, no more evil, earth and water washed it all away, this once “thriving” civilization. It thrived on hate and greed, on privilege and slaughter, using its knowledge to enslave the souls of men, trapped in the treadmill of its habitation.
Once the tumult of voices filled the streets, but no more. Now all is silent as the grave, and bones, picked clean, line the confines, earth and water conspiring to eradicate their evil lest it spread, contaminating the earth.
Now sharks bask in scattered sunshine that filters through the waves, like sentinels guarding the city hidden deep below. Coral adorns its sunken walls, shadows its depths. The trinkets and gold it sought long scattered by the waves, sunk beneath encroaching sands.
A lesson lies here, hidden, unknown, all glory brought to naught in a single day. Its vast armies unable to intervene, its technology of no avail against the powers that over threw it. They thought themselves invincible upon the earth, securing its resources to their will, enslaving “lower species” of men. Standing in the height of their power they were consumed in an instant. Now the fish inherit all.

Atlantian Legends.

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Down where the silver fishes play
Sunk down deep in its decay
Where once the proud like peacocks stood

Lies shattered stone like shards of wood

atlantis

It’s peaceful there now down in the depths, no more slaves, no more evil, earth and water washed it all away, this once “thriving” civilization. It thrived on hate and greed, on privilege and slaughter, using its knowledge to enslave the souls of men, trapped in the treadmill of its habitation.

Once the tumult of voices filled the streets, but no more. Now all is silent as the grave, and bones, picked clean, line the confines, earth and water conspiring to eradicate their evil lest it spread, contaminating the earth.
Now sharks bask in scattered sunshine that filters through the waves, like sentinels guarding the city hidden deep below. Coral adorns its sunken walls, shadows its depths. The trinkets and gold it sought long scattered by the waves, sunk beneath encroaching sands.
A lesson lies here, hidden, unknown, all glory brought to naught in a single day. Its vast armies unable to intervene, its technology of no avail against the powers that over threw it. They thought themselves invincible upon the earth, securing its resources to their will, enslaving “lower species” of men. Standing in the height of their power they were consumed in an instant. Now the fish inherit all.