Writing

Furyan Flame

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Inspired by “The Chronicles of Riddick”, starring Vin Diesel.

My life–such as it was–was over. Until the day that I met the Furyan.

They had spread across the great expanse like a wave of darkness, leaving destruction in their wake, blinking out planets and stars like so many candles snuffed in a breath.  You know the story: if they could not convert you, they would kill you.

My race was not eradicated. No, we were converted, whether we chose to be or not.

The Necromongers needed us.

My people, we were of a particular mind. By that, I mean, we were of a Great Mind. Our minds are moon and stars above that of many other species. We are Connected. We can communicate telepathically, even across thousands of light years, and can even carry the thoughts of others with us across the expanse. We can see into the minds of others, reading the impressions left upon their cerebral cortex. Thoughts, experiences, memories.

They called Him (quietly) the Holy Half-Dead, but, if anyone was half-dead, it was us. Where we had been artists and philosophers, oracles and orators, now we were communicators and weapons. We had become the Quasi-Dead.

Most of the time we didn’t know one moment from the other, always lingering on the edge of life and death. That is, until we were required to touch minds. Rip into them was a more accurate description.

My life had been over for a hundred years. Until I touched the Furyan’s mind. Such rage was there. Fierce, undying, ever-burning rage and desire for freedom. We cried out the only thing this latest Lord-Marshall could possibly do to stand under this creature’s fire.

“Kill the Riddick! Kill the Riddick! KILL THE RIDDICK!”

It was as if his mind fed back into mine, opening me, shattering me, filling me with this fire. It burned through my mind, lighting the dark corners of death where I had been kept for so long. And, somewhere in the dark and the dead, I prayed to the stars.

Let them not kill Riddick. Let the Furyan prevail. Let the fire burn.

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Sweet Floating

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The other day, as I covered my bed in freshly laundered linens, I paused for a finishing touch. I took some air freshener and sprayed my pillow and side of the bed lightly, the apple-cinnamon aroma making me long for bedtime to come, when I could bury my nose into my pillow and allow that sweet scent to soothe away the day’s care and busyness and lull me to sleep.

There are few scents in the world more calming, lovely, and soul-soothing to me than apples and cinnamon (except for Glade’s creamy custard/apple cinnamon 2-in-1 candle; that reminds me of my favorite My Little Pony when I was a little girl, smells just like her). The scent calls to mind all the time of the year from autumn harvest through Christmas. It warms me in the midst of the earth being in its winter bones outside. It calls me to comfort and peace and rest. I will re-scent my pillow and blanket later on so I really can’t wait to go to bed tonight.

 

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Peaceful Sleep by Chujian Ou

 

 

 

Giving As You Would Have Given To You

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We have often heard what is touted as The Golden Rule: “Do to others as you would have them do to you” (Luke 6:31). Have you ever thought, though, that that includes not only our actions but our reactions to people, too? Have you ever had a situation in which you longed and hoped for the best-case reaction from someone(s) but, instead, got the absolute opposite?

  • Instead of compassion, you were judged.
  • Instead of mercy and forgiveness, you were rejected.
  • Instead of support, you were abandoned.

Being truthful, coming clean, sharing our faults, shortcomings, vulnerabilities, or our need for help are often very difficult and even frightening. That fear is often built on the anticipation of a bad reaction from those to whom we must tell these things, and many of us have felt the pain of those fears realized at one time or another.

One of the most popular quotes over the past year (with over 51 million Google results and numerous memes floating about Facebook, Instagram, and Twitter) is: “Be the person you needed when you were younger” (Ayesha A. Siddiqi). What would our world be like if we gave the reactions that we wished we had received in our difficult moments? Better yet, what if we gave responses instead of reactions? “To react” is defined by Merriam-Webster as action or feeling as a result of a stimulus or situation. “To respond” is defined by the same as giving an answer to something. The former implies a visceral outcome, built on emotion. The latter implies conscious effort and thought given before speaking or acting. Now, that is not say that ours will always be the response that the other person would expressly desire but, in taking time to think, there is less chance of us allowing our emotions to hold sway and cause us to be discourteous, dismissive of, or even cruel to others in their heavy moments.

What if we gave responses instead of reactions? What if we took the time to consider? To consider humanity, fallibility, and kindness.  We can give compassion instead of judgement, mercy instead of rejection, and support instead of abandonment. How much better would our world be if we remembered the responses that we needed in our tough times and then gifted those responses to others? How many spirits might be spared, hearts edified, or even  relationships saved? Taking a pause is not always easy to remember or to do but I dare say that it undoubtedly worth it.

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Hymnal Thoughts

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Before now, I have been hesitant to state which is my favorite Christmas hymn, and honestly, that is because I couldn’t decide. But now I have an answer. Definitely have an answer.

As I drove around through the cold January air, the rain falling in sheets and the sky a slate grey blanket above me, my car was full of warmth. Yes, I was listening to Christmas music in January, plainly breaking the family “rule” about no Christmas music until after Thanksgiving. (When I am alone in my car and no Doc McStuffins soundtrack is being requested, I shall listen to what feeds my soul, thank you very much!) This song came on and stayed on repeat for most of the rest of my errand trip. I couldn’t get enough of hearing it, of singing it, of feeling it.

Without a doubt, “The First Noel” is my favorite Christmas hymn. There is no song that elicits that sense of thrumming anticipation and elation that the season embodies like it. No song that fills my soul to the brim and overflowing with that peaceful expectation, that serene joy that is all that Christmas means to me. It feels like song reaches into every part of my soul, flooding it with warmth and the desire to see light and love and hope everywhere, to see with my heart rather than just my eyes.

I want to keep that song, keep its core, its joy, anticipation, and watchful spirit alive in my life all the year through, not just Christmas. I want it to echo in my heart and in my life and spread out to others in the way I live each and every day.

PS. Thank you to my music teachers all through school for teaching me how to find and carry a part in a choral arrangement! I cannot tell you the joy I had finding that I could still sing along well enough to enjoy vocalizing along to this wonderful group of vocalists in their beautiful rendition.

The Spirituality of Fandom

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I don’t often do this. I actually rather avoid writing or posting about such happenings like the plague, but it has filled my mind all day. So here goes.

In the wake of the unexpected death of Alan Rickman and others this week and the outpouring of sadness, grief, and even reverence to their memories that has resulted, I have come to realize something. Our fandoms have become a spirituality, a faith of sorts. And I don’t mean that in a bad way, necessarily.

Our fandoms, like faith, have brought us near the untouchable. It has taken these untouchable stories, these untouchable characters, and made them as flesh. Flesh and blood and heart and soul, that we can hold close and know and love, without ever having met them or seen them with our own eyes. That faith renders them wholly real to us, not only the characters but also these people who have breathed life into them and into the ideals they represent that feed our souls.

In a society that already idolizes celebrities, I’m not calling for more of the same. However, I am more than willing to recognize and be grateful for the contribution that these people have made to imagination, soul-healing, and heart-hardiness in the face of a difficult, pain-filled, and broken world.

Thank you, all of you. We will not forget the light that you shared with us and have urged us to spread.

On Wish-Making

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People think that wish-making is an easy to-do. That you just say “I wish” and bing! there it is! Well, allow me to tell you: that’s absolute stupidity. Wish-making is a serious business and no one, and I mean no one, takes it seriously!

People just blurt out stuff without thinking about it. They think “I wish” makes us mind-readers. Serves them right when bad things happen.

“I wish to be rich.”

That’s it? Okay, you’ve just given me carte blanche to turn you into someone named Richard Wellington Freybrush the Third, but everyone calls him Rich.

“I wish to be wealthy.”

Better. But I could just make you the “wealthiest” internet celebrity (whatever the seven hells that is) ever, with not a real penny to your name. For gods’ sake, be specific!

“I wish to have excessive, extravagant wealth in spendable coin for the remainder of my life.”

Now that’s what I’m talking about. Specifics! You want results, you do the legwork and give specifics.

Take that Rampion/Rapunzel chick. You think she was born with that mane? Nope. I popped into the see the Black Forest Witch about a reference and there the little chit was. She saw my bottle fastened to my belt and, the next thing I knew, she was blurting out, “I wish I could have long hair forever!” All the witch could do was facepalm. If a desk had been there at the time, I swear her forehead would have made a respectable thump upon it.

Well, once the words are said, you can’t take them back, can you? No, you can’t, in case you were wondering. You can check it if you don’t believe me. It’s in the Sigils and Smoke Contract. Fine print.

So…what else could I do? I gave her long hair forever. No matter how she cut it, it was always down to her hips again next morning and would keep growing unless she cut it. Serves the stupid girl right. You think she would have learned something being raised by the Black Forest Witch and all.

Wish-making is no la-di-da business! It takes us centuries to train to become wish-granters and we take our jobs very seriously. So when you screw around with wish-making and make, quite frankly, stupid wishes, it insults us. So what do we do? We will give you stupid results. Not our fault. It’s what you asked for.

Everyone thinks they can be like Aladdin and trick wish-granters. Stupid Disney and their stupid movie. We aren’t idiots, you know? We’ve trained for this; we know the tricks, we know the loopholes. If we grant you something for free, it’s because we decided to, not because you’re so all-fire clever. Believe me, you’re not. Even Peter Pan isn’t that clever; he thinks he is but no, trust me. Tinkerbell has had him well in hand for the past 200 years and he has no idea just what he gave up with “I wish to be a little boy forever and have fun”. Please! Never grow up? Massive loss on his end and little skin off her pert little nose since Never Land itself maintains the Magic of such a massive and long-term granting rather than it coming from her personal stores. That’s why she was Wish-Granter of the Month for nigh on three-quarters of a century.

Don’t get me wrong, I’ve had a few good wish-makers in my time. There was this lovely little immortal woman, petite little sword-wielding thing. The most striking green eyes. Now that woman! That woman was a customer of the highest caliber. You’ve never seen such detail in wish-making as she gave. Written out, party-of-the-first-and-second-parts, and all that lovely legalese. Smoke and air, I love working with her! But I digress.

In short: please, if you find yourself with a consultation from a wish-granter, do us a favor, would you? Show a little respect and be specific. Know what you want and speak it, clear and detailed. That way, we get to do our job and you get exactly what you want. Everyone is happy. For a while at least, in most cases (chances are three to one). After all, it is Magic.

Winter Whispers 

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The world is feathering around me, turning my cozy home into a silent scene in a snow globe. The frost frames the window pane, turning it into an artistic trope. The wind has plastered the sides of my little cottage in snow, and I can still see the trees outside tremble in its icy grip. The cold has become absolute, bespoken by its aura radiating from the panes like a pulse. 

Winter has arrived properly enough, fluffed its feathers, and settled in for its stay. Just how long it will sit upon the nest of the earth remains to be seen.  

On Steps and Tears

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As I sit here in my quiet living room, wrapped in my ridiculously-comfy cable-knit poncho and relishing the absence of sound coming from my daughter’s room that tells me she’s asleep, I inhale the deepest and exhale the slowest I have all day (including the moments immediately following when I found said daughter had thrown her plate of mashed potatoes and corn down onto the rug). It’s like I can feel the world slowing down, quieting down, getting ready for the end of the day and forthcoming sleep. The television is off for the nonce, though I’ll probably indulge in some (countless) rewatching of “The Great British Baking Show” before bedtime.

Here we are almost a full week into 2016. It’s a thought that I am having trouble reconciling; it feels like it should have been longer than that right now and yet the days are taking their time a bit. I feel like I have accomplished a great deal and yet that I am falling behind on my To Do list. The decorations are coming down slowly. I’ve already written and submitted an article to the editors of The Well Written Woman. The laundry mountain is being chipped away at. I’ve cooked supper at home several nights this week. I’ve ready several chapters of a new book (you’ll find some favorite quotes from For the Love in the next post back). I’ve also been to the gym and kept up with my daily exercises. Pros and cons, progress and lag. But, on the whole, I find myself very pleased with how this year has begun. Baby steps.

I will confess that I have been busier than I had been expecting and need to work on being a bit more present with my little girl but I did take her out for her first snowfall play of this winter on Monday, which was wonderful. Then we sat on the floor and colored today before Mamaw gave us a call on Skype. So that was fun, particularly with me hilariously trying to defend my meticulously-colored picture from my daughter slapdash creativity. (I managed to snap a picture of my page for myself before surrendering my MLP: FIM coloring book to her mad genuis.)

I am looking forward to this year. I know that it is setting up to be challenging, difficult, or just plain hard for some in my life and it pulls my heart towards them, full of the desire to be there for them, even if there is nothing that I really, physically do for them. But I can be there for them. I can offer love and acceptance and an ear to listen. One of my goals this year is to speak less and listen more and offer as safe a place as I can for others. I don’t really have the words for how important this has become to me.

I have noticed firsthand of late just how ingrained it has become in us to not cry. Don’t cry. Whatever you do, don’t cry. And, if you do cry, apologize for your over-emotionality. Immediately. I am completely guilty of this and it breaks my heart to see those I love feel like they are putting too much on me or embarrassing me or themselves by crying. So I am retraining myself to never say, “Don’t cry”. (Oh, how hard that is with a three year old and those big fat tears over those chubby cheeks over the littlest thing.) Rather, I try to say, “It’s OK. Go on. I’m here,” and then just let them cry as they need. I am trying not to offer advice or platitudes or admonitions, or, really, even say anything aside from reminding them that I am right there (especially if it’s over the phone or Skype, as this is my verbal alternative to being able to hold their hand while they cry). Advice is not what they need from me in that moment. What they need is to be able release those tears, to release that emotion in a place where they do not fear being judged, condemned, or thought ridiculous. They don’t need “don’t cry”; they need “go ahead, you’re safe”.  And that is what I want to give these friends, family, and loved ones. I am a sympathetic crier so there will most likely be two people crying before all is said and done, and that’s okay.

2016 has had a good start, with goals and hopes in place and progress made. It might be little progress but it’s still progress and I am glad for that. Here’s to the progress continuing. Cheers, dears!

Turning the Page

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As 2015 prepares to haul on its cloak and make its exit, I cannot help but throw my mind back over what has made my life important this year. Not just the wifely things or the mommy things, but what has been important to me, Mel, as a person.

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A Dragon Sky

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Olaf would say that the sky is awake, and so it is. As I stepped outside to toss the trash into the hopper, I found myself struck and just staring upward. The moon is almost full–round and bright and beautiful–the air is crisp and lovely, and the clouds are racing over the sky, backlit in moonlight blue. The only description that came to mind was “dragon sky”. Like dragons, the epitome of air elemental, racing through the night air or their breath so hot billowing before or after them in a great exhale that mists the blue-black velvet above.

I just wanted to lie on the hood of the car and watch the sky, fall asleep to the cloudy symphony above. But then my family would worry and I would surely catch my death on the cold hood of a dew-covered car. So I shall settle for writing it down and calling it up in my mind’s eye for a smile as the night goes on.