Especially during these days, when many of us are struggling with how to respond to life and all the changes challenging our culture and the world, the truth that artists have a duty to reflect the times seems incredibly important.
Creativity comes in different forms and mediums. I encourage you to mine those gifts from within yourself. That may mean painting, dancing, music, writing, building — simply creating something.
My contribution will be a book of poetry, to be revealed later in the year.
Yikes, I’ve told you what my goal is. Now you all know, and may periodically inquire about my progress.
2024 is groaning under the weight of all the happenings of the year.
Too many happenings to list here.
Are you groaning as well?
Here’s the cure…
Slip into your snuggly warm jammies, or comfortable sweats, grab a warm cup of your favorite steamy brew, take your preferred throw or blanket and settle in-front of the fire.
A big roaring fire.
Listen to the crackles as little sparks pop from the blaze. Watch the flames of the fire rise, rise to the sky or up the firebox.
Give your thoughts of the year to those flames.
Let the flames take the weight of 2024 with them.
Rising into the heights of the heavens, then dissipating in the air.
Allow the smoke to fill your nostrils like incense, purifying your soul.
Watch the flames licking the logs slowly turning the surfaces into glowing, red searing heat sources. Soak in this heat. Sit quietly and let the weight of 2024 escape from your body.
Soak in enough of the heat that you need to toss the blanket aside.
Quiet your mind. Think about the flames making the logs smaller. Let your stressful thoughts shrink as well. Breathe deeply. A new morning is coming. 2025 will arrive like a new babe. Welcome it into your life– Uncorrupted, Renewed, Original.
From the ashes of 2024, let something new be created in you this coming year.
Embrace the possibility of new beginnings. Wrap them around yourself like the blanket you previously tossed.
After three glorious weeks on the road and over 5,000 miles on the car, we returned home tired, yet oh, so refreshed. We connected with so many friends and family, saw beautiful sights, and enjoyed one of the best Midwestern autumns! We’re home and have caught up on laundry, mail, appointments, household tasks and jumped into necessary holiday preparations. Now, we’re savoring the memories and reflect on them often.
I’m including a few snapshots from this epic trip.
I, however, seemed to have kept the vacation mentality, dragging my feet about stepping back into routine activities. All forms of writing have slipped through most of the cracks. My writing grounds me. It is how I sort my thoughts and feelings, and where I let my imagination run wild. So today, I’m tip-toeing back into my playground.
Thanks for joining me here.
I hope you are expectant about the upcoming holiday season and traditions important to you and those you care about.
I wrote earlier about my creative “desert experience” and teased about sharing the flash fiction piece written from this phase. The counts are in and the “YES” votes win.
Do not be surprised, this piece may find a home in a future collection of short stories.
The Concert
Peter sauntered into the seating area of the concert arena. The patrons were milling around, greeting friends who were at the same event. Many people already seated were chatting with those near them, or enjoying pizza with wine or other drinks. Servers walked the aisles, taking drink orders. Not wanting to draw attention to himself, he nonchalantly glanced from left to right. It was still early and there were many open seats. He was sure whoever purchased his ticket for him was already there, watching him. An usher looked at his ticket and directed him to his seat. It was an excellent location, center stage, just a couple of rows back from the dining tables, three seats in from the aisle. Realizing he would have a good seat for the show, and he himself would be in a prime location for others to monitor, he unbuttoned his jacket and sat down. As directed, he had on a black suit, with a bright orange shirt. He’d left the top two buttons undone, trying to look a little more casual. Clearly, he was overdressed compared to many of the others at the concert event. As he once was told, his movements were stiff, almost robotic. Though he made efforts to appear to fit in, he could not relax. The glasses he wore, which were dark-rimmed and oversized, allowed him to observe others around him easily. He had never figured out how to loosen up when around others. This evening was no exception. His seat was next to an energetic black woman. She was already swaying to the piped in pre-concert music. Occasionally she would speak to him, and he nodded or gave her a brief reply. Couldn’t she tell he didn’t want to converse with her?
The opening act appeared on stage and the crowd went wild. It was during that excitement another couple took the two seats on his other side. The lady sat next to him, but it was obvious she was enthralled with her date.
He remained in his seat, erect and focusing on the stage. The opening act had the crowd’s attention. They weren’t something he would have paid to see. He sat there pondering how this evening came to be.
Why am I here?
Who am I supposed to meet?
How many people are watching me?
Is this a set-up?
His thoughts raced as he focused his attention on the performers. The opening act wrapped up their performance. As they vacated the stage, many rose from their seats to get something to eat, or just to stretch their legs. He stood, as did the couple seated next to him. It was obvious they didn’t intend to allow him to leave. They started talking to him.
Were they the people he was supposed to meet here? The gentlemen introduced himself as KP. The woman never provided a name. As KP talked, Peter responded mostly by nodding his head or providing short affirming responses. The woman, wearing a tight-fitting sleeveless denim vest, tight black jeans and a perky straw hat, kept staring at her partner. Her brown hair curled out from under her hat, framing her face nicely. It was easy to wonder if she knew the man at all, or if this was a new relationship. She would tip her head and adoringly stare into his face as he spoke. He too wore tight fitting black jeans and a casual denim shirt. His beard and hair sported a dignified salt and pepper look. Probably in his mid-40s, KP appeared more casual than Peter and more relaxed. But why wouldn’t he be more relaxed? He shouldn’t know the group was being observed.
The threesome talked during the switch-up between the opening act and the featured performance. KP did most of the talking. The woman just smiled and fawned on KP. Peter stoically stood and listened. As the main act was setting up on the stage, the three returned to their seats. Before sitting down, KP reached into his pocket, extracting a small envelope which he discretely slid into Peter’s hand. Peter nodded, seated himself, and stared straight ahead at the stage. He thought, oh what one will do for money! It sure makes the world go round. If they only knew. He wanted to turn around to determine if anyone had noticed the transaction, but then he didn’t know who he should look for. He knew there would be a sedan waiting out front after the performance to whisk him away.
I recently started a new project, as I felt my mindset had slipped out of some traditional thought patterns. I pulled a gratitude journal from the bookshelf as I decided I needed to get back into the habit of practicing gratitude.
Each writing offers a two-page spread, with the first page having some thoughts to ponder, some scripture reminders, and the subsequent page is for writing and a brief prayer for ending the session.
My writing will remain private, but I wanted to share the thoughts to ponder from one day. Day five, to be more precise.
Some of the truths I’ve known for years, yet somehow, allowed these truths to escape from personal practices. Sometimes we all need reminders.
Yet I was fascinated by the idea that one’s mind actually expands based upon our focus. I liked the examples they used and could see experiences from my past to support the statement.
The world we currently live in bombards us with information designed to grab our minds and cause us to be fearful or distrusting of others. Allowing such thoughts to occupy my mind creates the possibility for a stream of emotions and actions which I don’t want to be used to describe me. I can accomplish an alternative outcome with how I choose to think. When I ponder all I have to be grateful for, or the beauty surrounding me, I will become more optimistic and content. The prospect of becoming more optimistic and content is exciting; which should cause increased happiness, increased health and more fun for those I interact with.
So, I have started the “100 Days of Grace & Gratitude.”
Some ask, how is a story born? Where do you get your ideas? Read below to find a plausible answer to your questions.
The Desert
Stranded in a creative desert Words escape me Nothing to show on paper
Wisps of a scene dance through my mind, then disappear before the words land in my story.
This journey is unsettling Leaving me feeling ill at ease
Besides being dry and barren, deserts are often hot To escape the dullness of these empty days We went to a concert
The outdoor setting provided a great escape from the heat Venue was filled with people enjoying themselves An evening breeze blew in from the ocean A lovely time was had
A threesome unlocked a creative muse within me The characters were all – characters I was certain there was a story beneath the surface
Back home, after a lovely evening of music by the shore, a short story was born
Now, your part…
If you have a desire to read the flash fiction piece born of this evening, click the yes option. If not, click no. In a couple of weeks, I’ll tally the responses. Depending upon what I find, you may get the story. You will be updated.
Please select and press one of the options below.
(Disclaimer notice for you, my readers. I appreciate your patience as I worked through the details of the form. Thank you.)
Finally Sitting in a quiet space My senses are settling down Sifting through the exposure of this trip.
After landing in the historic, multi-cultural metropolitan area Sights, sounds, smells and flavors all came together at one time.
In one place… Constantly Traffic never stops Sirens punctuate the air Music blares, escaping various doorways Colliding with the sound of those performing in the street.
People walk these streets Holding hands Carrying drinks Smoking The smell of marijuana hangs heavy in the outside air.
Honing my senses to look beyond the surface I find buildings designed in days gone by. Some proudly display hanging baskets and planters overflowing with flowers Set against decorative metalwork balconies and entrance ways. Others, covered with graffiti often host for-sale signs Hoping to lure someone into the neighborhood.
Many small shops emit strong fragrances from within Tobacco from the cigar shop Conflicted florals from candle shops or body works shops Rivaling savory or smoky fragrances from the plethora of eateries All compete against the backdrop scent of overflowing garbage bins and pot wafting through the air.
Cuisine is as varied as everything else in this city Showcasing the multiple cultures that settled and blended here. Surprising Delightful And, so enjoyable! I ate my way through the city with each meal awaking different taste buds.
The people who lived or worked within the city were friendly They genuinely wanted you to enjoy your stay in their city. They were proud of their heritage Sharing stories of their history and the culture’s survival through time.
A few more days removed I recognize how much new historical knowledge I gained while there.
Given the opportunity, The Big Easy could awaken something in you too.
Happy Spring! Feel free to leave your thoughts in the comments section.
Between Life and Death
Spring 2020 by Linda L. Flynn
I cut my first bunch of daffodils before Easter.
It snowed during the night. The blooms left for later bent under the weight. Buds not yet open succumbed to the morning snow.
My bunch of daffodils in the living room brought sunshine and the promise of spring to come. I’ve enjoyed this bundle of blooms. I’ve watched the petals on these beautiful blooms first become paper thin. Still beautiful, but the truth of their fragility is now evident.
A few more days and the edges of those paper blooms are dry and wrinkled, some have turned a darker color, others just became more fragile.
How like us. We bud and bloom, bringing sunshine and promise to those around us. Our lives bring beauty to some. Like these blossoms, we don’t even recognize the gradual process of becoming more fragile. Our bones are more brittle, muscle strength steadily disappears, our skin becomes more translucent, and our hair thins.
Like my daffodils, we often fail to recognize these changes until something happens.
Last night brought one of those happenings. I feel like I should howl and be in dissent. Today, I’m weary and wonder, what is this time all about?
During the day’s reflection, I pondered the completion of another trip around the sun and found myself standing on the threshold to another decade. It’s unfathomable I’ve moved through so many years. Yet, here I am.
Journey to the Heights 