Quote For The Day 1-18-2016

“Perhaps that’s what life is about–the search for such a connection. The search for magic. The search for the inexplicable. Not in order to explain it, or contain it. Simply in order to feel it. Because in that recognition of the sublime, we see for a moment the entire universe in the palm of our hand. And in that moment, we touch the face of God.”
― Garth Stein, A Sudden Light

Flash Fiction For The Purposeful Practitioner Jan 15th

The opening sentence for the January 15th Flash Fiction for the Purposeful Practitioner: We were within a mile-and-a-half of the service roads when we found it.”


Robert stopped dead in his tracks, staring to the right. I started to go around, glancing to see what fascinated him. Stopped dead. It was there, as if it had never been lost. And if the skull was here, then the entrance to the Dreaming had to be close, at least according to the ancient manuscripts we’d studied.

We stood, I don’t know how long, neither of us wanting to be the first to speak, afraid the Skull might disappear if we broke the silence.

“So,” Robert whispered, as if anybody on this windswept mountainside might hear, “Aren’t there supposed to be two skulls to mark the entrance?”

I nodded, eyes scanned the landscape. “There, to the left, almost worn away into the ground.” The Second Skull.

Bats swirled up and out of nowhere as dusk settled around us, swooping for whatever bugs might exist in this place.

“So…. what do we do?”

“We find the Dreaming of a lifetime.” I strode off the road, boots crunching frost, into the shadowed mist shimmering between the signposts, stepping into to the world of Camazotz’s Dreaming.

The End… or maybe the Beginning.

(Camazotz is the Mayan  Bat God – name meaning “Death Bat.”

Words 203

If I Could Turn Back Time

Daily Post Writing Prompt 1-12-2016 –  If you could return to the past to relive a part of your life, either to experience the wonderful bits again, or to do something over, which part of you life would you return to? Why?

If I Could Turn Back Time
(Fiction written in whatever voice shows up first)

Turn back time, you say.  What would I do?  Well, that’s a tricky question….

Not so tricky anymore. I wrote that when I was 15 (a school assignment) and, frankly, I didn’t know shit when I was 15. What’s there to turn back to?

Now….. there is more behind me than ahead. All I can do is wait so something to occupy my brain is a welcome change.

I’ve had a good life. Some won’t believe me. Four Divorces. Widower once. Never could get the love thing right. By the time I knew what I wanted, my reputation was set. The public mask all celebrities wear. Philanderer. Cheater. And those were the nice ones.

So yeah, I had lots of years cheating, but that’s not what I would change. I made a lot of mistakes but each one taught me something, narrowed me down until I finally understood why and how to stop. That I wouldn’t change.

Would I change all the years of suicide attempts? Yes and no. I’d like to  forget them, but again, they taught me needed lessons. They taught me how to live bi-polar, on the knife’s edge. Lots of years on the edge.

Drinking.  Drugs.  I got rid of them early otherwise I wouldn’t have survived the edge. The hospital stays. The weeks of nothing but blankness. The months of running to escape myself.

No, what I would change is the friendships. I’d have more and I’d stop pissing them away.  I’d change how I treated them, professionally and personally. I’d cherish them, something I learned far too late.

Yeah, that’s what I would change.  If I could…,



JSW Prompt 8-27-2015 response


That’s the curse of being a writer.  If I could show you the worlds inside me, the multiple dimensions all narrowing down to one single pin-head point – me – then you might understand.  Not that I hold out hope.  How can you comprehend a hundred worlds inside me, a thousand characters telling stories, clamoring to be heard.

I had invisible friends as a child.  Everybody does.  Friends with which I played and talked; friends who were inside me. But, I never outgrew my invisible friends.  They grew away from me, into their own, but never left.  Though many of them have merged and morphed into other characters or combinations, none are forgotten, not unless they have died in my imagination.  And, truthfully, even not then.  Some names of the dead have been lost, pushed out by the living, but the character is never forgotten.

Having a hundred characters inside my head, inside my body, is normal for me.  I don’t understand how other people live without them.  Stories are always spinning through my mind, one character or another settling over me as I walk or talk or work.  I see through their eyes, talk through the mouths, hear through their ears.  I touch through their skin.

Understand, when you talking to me, you are talking to both me and whatever character descends like a shroud over my being. Could I live without them?  Without their stories.  I don’t think so.  I would be too alone in the silence.

Would I want to live without them, those names and faces which have carried me through so many days.

No, not even for you.

Quote For The Day 7-30-2015

“Don’t expect the puppets of your mind to become the people of your story. If they are not realities in your own mind, there is no mysterious alchemy in ink and paper that will turn wooden figures into flesh and blood.”
—Leslie Gordon Barnard, WD

Poetry Moment

I lay awake,
staring out past
the confines of my window,
sky soft and blurry.
Dark is complete.
I trace the rooms of this house,
shapes, sizes and even
the rough corners of the room’s elbows.
All the while dark lies
on my chest like a cat,
licks my cheek, fingertips.
I could reach out and turn
this night like a page,
one loud voice and
the dark would shatter
like crystal.
We did not touch –
never did you see
the dark universe I house
between my ribs
or the dull ache in my breast
that needed only stroking.
We walked together
in the cold night snow,
breath streaming behind us
like exhaust
from a car
turning circles
over a cliff.

Wolf In The Fold

“Oh, but you must travel through those woods again and again… said a shadow at the window… and you must be lucky to avoid the wolf every time…

But the wolf… the wolf only needs enough luck to find you once.”
Emily Carroll, Through the Woods

Isn’t this just the way it is?  We have to navigate endlessly through the woods of life, rising to the varied and sundry challenges on a daily basis.  But the wolves, the bad things that happen to us, need only find us once.  Seems unfair. The wolves should have to work equally hard to spread the bad around.  They shouldn’t be so favored. If anybody is favored, it should be us, right?

Maybe not. Think about life.  Is your life good or bad?  Abundant or lacking? Rich or poor?  If you said your life was good – what makes it good?  Abundant – what makes it so?  Rich – is it dollars that bring goodness?  And the same with the bad, lack and poor.

What makes are our lives what they are?  Isn’t it us, really, not the outside things, like money or power, which make our lives worth living?  You’re heard it all before, I’m sure.  Money doesn’t bring happiness.  But, really, it doesn’t.  Yes, you can buy things with money but they are outside things, things that open us up to the possibility of lack and poor and bad.

If you had nothing but yourself and the ‘outside’ world – and by outside I mean the natural world – what would your life be like?  Do we ever consider the possibility that maybe before houses and cars and villages our ancestors might have lived an even better life than we could ever imagine?  Not necessarily better than us, but better all the same.

I’m not saying we should – or could –  go back to being nomadic, learning to cook over -ohhhh – a fire, but that we should learn to simplify our needs. Before the houses and cars and baubles, shouldn’t we find the happiness inside us and build from there, not the other way around?

So we don’t like the wolves.  Understandable, but if we didn’t have the wolves, the bad things, how would we know the true meaning of the good? After all, we humans weren’t built to live in a world of all light and no darkness, all good and no bad; we’re meant to live comfortably in the middle, learning both from the good and the bad.  It’s how we think of our life that matters in the end, not how many things we have for the next big Show-and-Tell.

Good or bad? Abundant or lack? Rich or poor?

What is your life like today?