Category: Writing
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Who Happens Next?
One aspect of writing fiction is the dilemma of writer’s block. The writer sits before a blank sheet of paper tapping a pencil in dismay or suspending anxious fingers above a keyboard . What happens next? is the silent cry echoing in her head. But I’m not sure this is the correct question, or that…
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When It Stops Snowing
The moment I see snowflakes and the sky is a swirl with flurries my heart rejoices. I anticipate an onslaught of flakes not sure what will come or how long it will continue. I don’t access my weather app because that makes me think about snow. I just want to feel it. If it’s the…
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Sheer Silence
The desert beckons. Not because we desire it, but because it speaks to our heart. Whether it’s a table at a coffee shop or the counter at the diner, we know when it’s time to go deep into our soul. This week I began writing the second novel in a series that I project will…
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To Walk Away
When I think about walking, a destination usually comes to mind. Recently, though, my thoughts have wandered to the exact opposite–the idea of walking away, of leaving something behind. This image has sad and forlorn overtones. To leave a place or a person or a culture because it’s harmful or simply bad is to walk…
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To Stumble and Fall
It’s one thing to walk along the path, and another to come across a traveler who’s broken, injured, and unable to walk. Remember, the path is our homeward journey. This isn’t a tourist trip or a march into battle. Metaphors of the Good Samaritan abound. Here we encounter another doing the same thing as us.…
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Welcome
An archaic form of expressing gratitude is the simple word, ‘welcome’. Strange, huh? We say it when a guest arrives, and after we offer help. But why did ancient cultures use the words ‘grateful’ and ‘welcome’ interchangeably? The connection isn’t obvious. The essence seems to lie in the giver and receiver. But wait a minute,…
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The Earth and its Fullness
Who owns the earth? Ancient cultures assumed it was given to us by a caretaker from a spiritual realm. It makes sense. Surely they knew they didn’t create it, so it had to be bequeathed to them from someone. And here is where my story begins. From what I have read, we were given a…
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To Hear the Cry
When darkness surrounds us and we cry out in fear, we hope that someone hears us. A cry in the night is one of desperation accompanied with tears, announcing danger, helplessness, and ruin. The most horrible utterance a human can hear. What it must be like to be heard! The rush of a savior in…
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A Withered Bloom
It snowed yesterday, and I am looking out the window from the kitchen island as I write. The soil in the kitchen garden has been turned, but the wildflowers along the fence’s edge still have some withered blooms on the top of brown stalks, which will remain throughout the winter until new ones replace them…
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Hic et Nunc
“Here and now.” That’s where we are. Always. My novice master impressed upon me, “All that exists is the here and now.” Hence the phrase Hic et Nunc. These enduring words are so true, they form the motto of the Stone Ridge School of the Sacred Heart in Bethesda, Maryland. A school dear to our…
Richard Earenfight 