Tag: literature
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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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Reeds Do Bend
There is strength in flexibility. Aesop remarked on this paradox in his fable of the reed and the oak tree. His insight reveals the strength of the reed. Yes, the might oak is sturdy, strong, and tall, but the lowly reed survives the thrashing winds because it is pliant. Don’t be confused here. The reed…
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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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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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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…
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Lost Horizon
While on the path, we always keep our eye on the horizon. It’s where our destination lies. Over the next hill, through the mountain pass, between the ravines, and among the crags, we lose sight of our destination, caught up in our immediate surroundings, picking our way through the steep-walled passages dotted with thorn bushes…