Have We Learned from the Pandemic?

 

First, look what came yesterday, a proof for my novel, The Girl on the Pier. The stripe is to make sure I don’t sell it. Everything fit, the spine worked, no unnecessary blank pages. I choose a misty/foggy cover for it is a bit of a mystery. First, why would a customer offer two million dollars for the painting The Girl on the Pier? Second, when he saw it he said, “But that’s not the painting, there is another?”

Read a Free sample click here

Now, onto El Bloggo:

“There is more love than hate in the world, but hate gets noticed.”

Have We Learned from this Pandemic?

 

I don’t know. Maybe.

 

Today I heard someone say she was tired of commuting, tired of her job, just tired, and didn’t want to talk to anyone. She just wanted peace and quiet and to crawl off alone. She said that recently she had spent a lot of time in meditation. “Did I cause this pandemic?” she asked. 

 

The answer was, “Yes. Along with all the others who were tired of the way it was.”

 

Wow, that hit me like an anvil.

 

That’s a pretty out-there statement, but what if that is true? We were tired of the way it was. Competition wore us out. Long hours at the job were draining us. Commutes were pushing people to the breaking point.  Kids were getting shot at school. We still had racism and prejudice, and that was after we thought we were smarter than that.  We allowed a wall to begin at our border. We separated kids from their parents at the border. We were discouraged and feeling that we weren’t getting anywhere near to what we wanted. We felt impotent to instigate change when issues such as global warming were staring us in the face.  (Oh yes, global warming doesn’t exist, say some, or it is a natural earth cycle—well, maybe we ought to study it.) We are having more wildfires because of dry conditions. Why did the winter slip past with hardly a cold day? What happened to the snows of yesteryear? When I was a kid, it was so blooming cold in the Cascades that the water flowing over Multnomah Falls froze on its way down. and during this time the Columbia River had chunks of ice the size of Volkswagens.

.

People like wild-caught salmon, but if the tributaries, the spawning grounds of salmon, dry up, there will be no fish. We take supplements, fish oil to make us healthier. No fish, no fish oil. We’ve come to accept such luxuries without thought of where it comes from. Californians are happy to have the electricity that the Dams on the Columbia River provide. That river needs input from other rivers. Other rivers come from snow-melt.

 

I wonder if we have learned anything. People are anxious to get back to “Normal” WHEN NORMAL SUCKED.

 

And now they call what’s coming the “New Normal,” insinuating that it means something not good. That further scares us.

 

I have tried to get people out of fear and into possibilities--I don’t know if I’ve been successful, for the fear mongers have a louder voice. And who am I anyway? Some little blogger sitting out in the sticks, taking walks in the forest, and proclaiming that we can create the world of our dreams.

 

Well, how stupid is that?

I tried to place a 30 sec video here, “Pond Ripples.” This site, however, had different ideas. The video is a moment of calm. The water was so clear, and the reflection so perfect we had to throw pebbles into the water to prove it was wet.

You can find it on https://www.youtube.com/JoyceDavis0001/videos

I would love it if you subscribed to my videos.

Oh Dear

A few days ago, someone asked me why I was doing this, writing, blogging, all that. So, I decided to tell you.

 

Long ago and far away—in San Diego, a long way from Junction City, Oregon, where I now live, I sat on a hillside overlooking Fashion Valley. Alternately drinking a McDonald’s coffee and orange juice, I asked one of life’s persistent questions: “What do I want to do with my life?”

 

I had just delivered my two girls, ages six and nine, to school, a 45- minute commute, and I didn’t want to drive home and be back by 2:30, so I parked. 

 

“Well,” the little voice in my head answered my question, “I’d write if I had anything to say.” 

 

That day I wrote a little children’s story and haven’t shut up since. 

 

This morning Amazon Kindle informed me that I was eligible for their StoryWriting contest. That’s good.

 

The rub is, a part of the judging depends upon people reading the book. That's the "Oh Dear," part.

 

Oh, but then all of you would love to read it/ them. There are two. Not to be pushy or anything, but people have to know it’s there, for they aren’t apt to stumble upon it. 

 

Here are what they look like and the links.

 

 

 

 

Where Tigers Belch is a novella, 8,424 words  

 

https://www.amazon.com/Where-Tigers-Belch-jewell-d-ebook/dp/B0965Y2K7V/ref=sr_1_1?dchild=1&keywords=Where+Tigers+Belch&qid=1623779561&sr=8-1

 

One young girl’s search for her purpose.

 

 

The Girl on the Pier is longer. Most novels are around 90,000 words. This one is 43,718 words. Amazon.com : The Girl on the Pier

 

When a buyer offers two million for a painting but then says, “That’s not the painting, there is another.” It sends Sara and her newly found love on a world search to find the lost painting.

 

https://www.amazon.com/Girl-Pier-jewell-d-ebook/dp/B096G9GT6G/ref=sr_1_1?dchild=1&keywords=The+Girl+on+the+Pier&qid=1623779856&sr=8-1

 

  

It looks as though I can attribute my writing career on my girl’s schooling. More accurately, those long commutes did it, for I often spent those hours between delivery and pickup, studying, reading, and writing.

 

Now my girls have children of their own, and Grandma is still plugging away at the keyboard.

 

Blogging makes you notice things, allows you to make comments, and is a commitment, and, think of this…no professor will mark your page with a red pencil.

 

I must love what I do, or I wouldn’t keep doing it. 

 

“Don’t think about making art, just get it done. Let everyone else decide if it’s good or bad, whether they love it or hate it. While they are deciding, make even more art.”

 

Yes, I consider what I do art. It’s my creative endeavor, and I preach to others to find that thing that gets them up in the mornings. We are all artists. Find that thing that lights your fire. 

Why in the world are so many people on drugs, uppers or downers, when they have a fabulous endeavor at their fingertips? We have eyes to read and a beautiful world to enjoy. This is life, folks. 

When someone asked the Science fiction writer and person who coined the word ROBOT what he would do if he was told he had fifteen minutes to live, Isaac Asimov answered: “I’d type faster.” 

 

 

 

 

For the Love of Dogs and Other Incredible Critters

 

Now for the blog. Here we go…

Abraham Lincoln loved dogs, and dogs loved him. 

“When Lincoln was elected president, he was concerned that Fido would be fearful and unhappy with the bustle of Washington. The Lincolns arranged for the John Rolls family to care for him. Lincoln specified that Fido could not be tied up alone in the yard, must be allowed in the house whenever he asked to come in and allowed in the dining room at mealtime. To help Fido feel at home, the Lincolns gave the Rolls the dog’s favorite horsehair sofa.

Abraham Lincoln’s dog Fido

"I am in favor of animal rights, as well as human rights, that is the way of a whole human being." 

--Abraham Lincoln

Talking dogs are now a rage.

Owners are presenting dogs with buttons that represent a word. The dog sends his communication with the press of a paw.

I watched a Sheep o’ poodle—something like that, a Sheepdog/poodle mix. This dog had 29 buttons, and she knew their meanings.

I watched as she pressed “Mad.” “What are you mad about?” the owner asked. “Stranger,” came next. “Ouch,” next. “Ouch? What hurts?”

“Paw.” 

The owner examined her paw and found a foxtail stuck between her toes.

Awesome. That foxtail was a stranger to the dog.

I talk to my dog, but I’m not doing the button thing. I’m afraid she will begin bossing me around, although both dogs do that already. However, it would be nice to know if something hurt or what they were concerned about. 

I find animals fascinating. And there is a lot of inter-species interaction. (When they have developed a friendship.) Our cat Obi licks Lafayette, the coon hound. But let the dogs see a strange cat—ho ho, not good. And a bunny in the yard—that makes them salivate faster than a steak.

I once saw a video of a polar bear playing with a husky. Chimps adopt kitties, and Zoos place a companion dog in with wild cats. Yipes. 

Animals love to please humans, except when it interferes with their desires. Or if they encounter a stranger, or an intruder, or like to announce, or take the center of attention. 

Like us.

Farm animals learn how to deal with the other animals on the farm and take the human’s food—well, being penned, they must. And regarding cleanliness, they must rely on the humans again to clean their area. 

Both the human and the animal probably think the other is stupid.

The dog, however, has a bit more savvy regarding human beings. He is non-judgmental. Oh, he can be hurt by humans, but has a great deal of tolerance for their owner’s bad behavior. He knows how to connect, how to communicate, how to be a friend, and how to love. Dogs love a job, and they perform theirs to perfection and will work for a human if they human knows how to teach him. 

I’m even learning about Blackie, our adopted chicken, who has free run of the back yard. I saw her agitated, going round and round the little chicken house, where the young pullets are penned.

The second-story door is open to the nesting box, and finally Blackie went in and laid her egg. She was like a pregnant woman about to give birth. I hope it was easier for her.

Blackie roosts on a chair with a paper under her, and in the mornings, I pick up the paper—chicken toilet.

The birds are partaking of the chicken food, and I have a stainless-steel watering dish with a hose steadily dripping in it. The other morning five birds were having a free-for-all fun bath in the watering dish.

This week I completed my paperback version of Where Tigers Belch. I’m calling it a novella for it is short and to the point. 

It follows The Alchemist’s genre in that it follows a young person’s quest to find their purpose.

In my case, a young woman’s quest is on a jungle trail. And her spot will be where tigers belch.

I don’t know much about tigers, except they are the biggest cat and are camouflaged with stripes. But orange? Why orange? Well, it’s pretty. You might wonder how an orange cat is concealed in the jungle. First, mammal’s fir cannot make green, but it makes orange very well. To most colorblind animals, a tiger looks green. 

 Viola’ big cat, not seen.

Tigers do not have the long-range running ability, so getting close to their prey is essential–thus the need for camouflage. And although we feel sad when a tiger kills an antelope or a deer, they miss 9 times out of 10. 

Why the title Where Tigers Belch? I just like Edward Abbey’s poem: 

“May your rivers flow without end, meandering through pastoral valleys tinkling with bells, past temples and castles, and poet’s towers into dark primeval forest where tigers belch, and monkeys howl…beyond that next turning of the canyon walls.”

Making a Kindle book is easy—but have you tried to make a paperback book? I thought it would be easy since I had done it before.

Not.

The ending of Where Tigers Belch gives me a smile.

A muse wrote it.

Link to Where Tigers Belch

Click on the cover

Whoa, I just hit my video link and the whole kit and caboodle came up here. Well, that makes it easy.

F

You Know What?

 I got this on the trail: The universe doesn’t know the difference between a penny and a million bucks.

I can hear you…don’t go there.

We will explore this concept later on…

For now, the second video is up, and you know what joined us?

Dogwoods. Exquisite blossoms right beside the trail. Who would have thought? I probably will never again find the road I took that day. There is a web of logging roads in that vicinity. I took a wrong turn on the way home and ended up in a blackberry patch.

Poor truck.

But, as I have told my grandson, “I’ve never been permanently lost.”

But I got the video. Jewell’s Happy Trails #2 – YouTube  

Rob Breszny, who writes for The Eugene Weekly under “Free will Astrology,” expressed this week exactly what I am going through. I like him—mainly because most of the time I agree with him. Isn’t that the way it goes?

I got a kick out of this article. 

“Aquarius-born August Strindberg (1849-1912) was a masterful and influential playwright. He also liked to dabble in painting and photography. His approach to the two fields was different.”

While he was a polished writer, he would always be an amateur at the visual arts,” he said, “And I intend to stay that way. I reject all forms of professional cleverness or virtuosity.”

“Just for now, Aquarius,” wrote Breszny, “I recommend you experiment with the latter attitude in your own field.”

I’m doing it.

In walking my trails, videoing them, and placing them on YouTube. I’m exposing myself as a rank amateur.

I need the walks, and I figured many of you need a breather, So, come hang out with me. We’ll explore the trail, and I’ll babble, or turn down your volume and be with nature. It would be nice to have a conversation instead of a monologue, but you weren’t there. 

Hang in with me.

Maybe I’ll get the gist of YouTube videos—like turn my camera sideways, or make shorter ones.

My purpose of these walks was to talk my walk, and put out my take on The Law of Attraction.  The term The Law of Attraction, might annoy the heck out of some, and attract others. Putting out subjects is like sifting through the sand for shells. Some people want to collect shells or use them in their art. Others will use the sand for playing, building castles, or melting it down for glass.

Both are artists.

You see, I believe everyone is an artist. They just express themselves differently.

I have a friend who sews so beautifully that you can’t tell her work from the professionals, but she doesn’t think she is an artist. Pfff.

In Seth Godin’s blog recently–he writes daily, so it’s hard to keep up with him—this time he wrote about the benefit of the doubt.

“The benefit of the doubt is what happens when instead of being skeptical, we’re inclined to believe.”

Godin says, “We grant the benefit of the doubt to the big man on campus, the homecoming queen, the tall person, the celebrity, the person who apparently has amassed a lot of money, the one who fits our cultural mores, the male, the white person, the conventionally pretty one, the conventionally abled one, the popular one. But it also might be the class cut-up, the insurgent or the renegade.”

Yet there are others…

There is so much rabble it is hard to tell fact from fiction. I am encouraging people to follow that still small voice that lives within. It’s our internal guidance system. Unless we have completely put aside our rational mind we know when something rings true.

From my horse-training days, I remember Pat Parelli saying to never call your horse a derogatory name, for it builds barriers instead of bridges. 

Now, wouldn’t that also apply to people?

For a moment, I step out of time. I go to the forest and walk a trail. I smell the sweet fragrance that seeps from the trees and the ground cover, and the brush alongside the trail.

And I come home refreshed.

That’s my wish for you.

Joyce

P.S. I have a novel now on Amazon.com. Kindle and paperback. I’m entering a contest, so I needed both. It’s a big deal for me, for I have spent the last week formatting the paperback. It finally worked. I figure if people buy the book they would want a Kindle version, but rules are rules. If I sell a paperback I would make the whole sum of 89 cents. Cool. All I need is to sell a million copies. Hee hee.

The Girl on the Pier by jewell d

Amazon.com : The Girl on the Pier by jewelld

Joyce’s YouTube channel: https://www.youtube.com/JoyceDavis0001/videos

Subscribe to my You tube Channel and I will love you up one side and down the other.

FEATURED

Ablaze

 
The forest along the McKenzie River was ablaze. 

“We literally had minutes to make a decision,” said Jeff Ziller, a Fish Biologist for the South Willamette Watershed District.

He had just received an emergency message that the Leaburg Dam had pulled all three gates. It would be drained to avoid any catastrophic debris pile-up if the dam’s power went out.

“Do we act quickly and release the 1.2 million trapped fish at the hatchery, or do we let them die?”

They decided to save the fish. 

So, with an okay from the National Forest Service and the Oregon State Police escorting them, Ziller and 6 others set out to release the trapped fish.

The police lit the way through the smoke with strobe lights. One hundred to 150 salmon were trapped in a fish ladder. Seven hundred adult salmon, plus juveniles, would quickly be stranded in a pond as the Leaburg dam drained.

Seven hundred thousand Spring Chinook salmon,150,000 to 200,000 Steelhead, and 12,000 t0 15,000 catchable-sized trout fingerlings were released into the river. 

We were driving along the McKenzie Highway through the burn that happened last September. I checked my phone for the fire’s date and found the story of the fish rescue in Catch Magazine. 

I remembered the red skies from our house some 100 miles away and ash afloat in the air, but I didn’t remember the date, and this day was the first time since the fire we had driven the highway.

Sparks from downed electrical lines caused the fire. Extreme winds drove the blaze to an almost immediate engulfment of forest that burned 173,000 acres and destroyed 400 homes. It is officially called The Holiday Farm Fire, Labor day, September 7, 2020. I can’t imagine what it was like for the people living there.

When we first moved to Oregon west of the Cascades, I said I didn’t think I was in Oregon until I saw the McKenzie River. It is beautiful with a raging river and old-growth trees surrounding it. 

Last Saturday, however, we drove for 20-30 miles through blackened trees and decimated hillsides. Within these areas were oasis’ of homes intact, surrounded by their green lawns and flowered borders. It was remarkable how some were spared. Magical almost. Strange to see the evidence of a burn weaving, engulfing complete hillsides while leaving other places untouched. The little town of Blue River, slightly off the highway, is completely gone.

The fire stopped before McKenzie Bridge, and just beyond it was our destination.

Since I am videoing forest trails, I wanted to film the one I had walked several times before. It is one of my favorites. And so, as Husband Dear, Sweetpea, and I walked the trail down to the river. I captured it on my phone/camera. It will be posted eventually on YouTube, Jewells Happy Trails as # 3. 

I didn’t talk on this walk.

Perhaps I will add commentary when I learn how. I wonder, though, it is so beautiful, and when you come to the roar of the river, it is magical. It would be lovely to give people an experience of a peaceful trail through an old-growth forest, to walk among the trees, and watch the green go by. I’m sure some have never experienced the giant grandfather trees, with the delicate and beautiful ground cover that flourishes beneath them.

I need time to think.

Up from the ashes of Blue River….

Chinook Salmon on the McKenzie

 

I did it. I posted a video on YouTube. I thought maybe a no-frill video talking about The Law of Attraction could be of interest. Jewells HappyTrails#1

And there is nothing like a green forested trail to refresh the spirit, and make you believe anything is possible.

In 2006 Rhonda Byrne published a movie titled The Secret to a rousing 19 million viewers, and $300 million in gross sales. That tells me people want to know how to use the power of the mind to bring about their desires. And they want transformative experiences. I wonder how all those people are doing. You don’t hear much about The Secret anymore.

I wish I had a different name for #The Law of Attraction, but then, people wouldn’t know what I am talking about.

I believe that the transformative journey is like art, to become good at it, you practice every day.

What better way than on a forest trail?

Please subscribe.

When I reach 100 subscribers, I can have a custom URL. (That will make it easier to find.) And when I reach 1,000 subscribers, I can make a little money from the video. (But not from my viewers.)

Please go to https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_4fHxsX6Kcc&t=99s

 

Jewell's Happy Trails

Holy cow, I don't know why I am doing this. I click into YouTube, and what pops up? All those professional speakers. People more knowledgeable than me, more experienced, more, more. So why would anyone listen to my babble? That is a phenomenon every artist must face—putting their work out there, knowing it doesn't match the standards set by people who have practiced for 20 + years.

However, we all have a voice and a gift, and perhaps my saying whatever I have to say will spark something in someone.

 If we wait until we are perfect (ha), we will never do it. And so we begin.

 

I have two forest walks filmed so far where I talk about this mystery we call life. My focus is called The Law of Attraction, although I wish I had another name for it. Guess I feel the title is cliché; however, here's my take on it.

 

Please go to: https://www.youtube.com/channel/UC3pPWKU7N1VvVAHOClUSreA

 

And then here is the blog post I wrote for this week.

 

Blog May 25 21 Pet Your Reptile

 

In this age, we speak of enlightenment—whatever in the heck that means…

 

Maybe it means we have come to understand that we were born a perfect human and live the life of a human. The cliché is that we are spiritual beings having a human experience. It might be cliché, but I agree with the statement. We learn along the way, and maybe enlightenment is living in peace and fulfillment. It probably comes after we have walked the pot-holed road filled with boulders.

 

All along, we are fighting our evolution.

 

My sister used to get agitated when I used the word evolution, for she thought it negated creationism.

 

I'm not going there. Evolution simply means change over time—big deal. Things change, and we have built into us certain behaviors that were undoubtedly a result of evolution, aka, what worked at the time, aka, driven by natural selection.

 

Fast forward. We still have behaviors built into us that do not work to our benefit. Sorry. Millions of years built us.

 

For example:

 

Fear. It benefited us to run or fight in the face of danger. However, now it is thrown at us regularly. It sells. (An adrenalin rush.)

 

The hunter phenomenon. It was necessary to feed the tribe. Killing for sport or war is counterproductive. (But it is another adrenalin rush.)

 

Some native hunters revered the land and the animals. Sorry, we must kill to eat, but that's the way this earth is set up. (Vegetarians, charge ahead. The cow doesn't kill the grass; she mows it. Most fruits and vegetables would rot if we didn't eat them. (My refrigerator attests to that.)

 

Distain or fear of strangers or people who look different from us. Well, what can I say about that? Used to be you needed to fear marauders. They would come and take your wife, your children, your animals, and your land. Then there was the class system—money and title meant you were better than the common man. And then there were slaves. Not a pretty picture. 

 

Nationalism. Now we are World People. Used to be, we had to protect what was ours for the same reason we feared strangers. However, we still fight over land.

 

Judgment: I've heard more people fault themselves for judging than I can count. Of course, we size up people to determine if they are a friend or foe. It's natural. We pick and choose who we want to hang out with or who we want to marry. Where this goes wrong is when the ego gets involved. Wanting to be better than those others we are judging. We are taught competition, not cooperation. (I've heard that Navaho children gave teachers a hard time because they wanted to help each other on exams. They couldn't understand why they had to keep their eyes on their own paper.)

 

Belief systems. Probably beliefs give us comfort. It provides us with some understanding of the way the world works—even if it's faulty. It allows us to find others who agree, thus giving us bonding and friends.

 

When we look back, we realize we carry baggage from our past, genes, nurturing, propaganda, etc. Yes, we want to look ahead, but not to forget what made us. And we want to take with us lessons learned. We developed a big thinking brain, a brain over a brain over a brain. That reptilian brain is at the base of your spine, is hungry, scared, angry, and horny. The midbrain is responsible for memory, temperature, heart rate, swallowing, sneezing, among many other things. Then we wrapped it up in a pretty package, the Cerebral cortex, the place where miracles happen.

 

We carry quite a package.

 

"Why did the chicken cross the road?"

"Because his reptilian brain told him to."

 

The Reptile Brain also is where repeating patterns such as rituals, automatic responses without conscious thought, predictability, fear of the unknown, fear of losing a job, spouse, home, dying, lack of money, and lack of resources. All are anxiety and trauma responses. It is where racism arises. 

 

"The lizard brain is the reason you're afraid, the reason you don't do all the art you can, the reason you don't ship when you can. The lizard brain is the source of resistance."—Seth Godin.

 

 In The Dragons of Eden, Speculations on the Evolution of Human Intelligence, Carl Sagan wrote:

 

 "Despite occasional welcome exceptions, this seems to me to characterize a great deal of modern human bureaucratic and political behavior."

 

The way to deal with the Reptilian brain is to realize when it has taken over.

 

Reptilian brains often label people as crazy or unstable who willingly take a leap of faith and go for it, like quitting their job and moving to another country.

 

These people acted despite their reptilian brain – allowing them to experience life as it was meant to be, free and boundless.

 

Eckart Tolle has a trick to calm the reptilian brain:

 

Sit quietly, hands in lap, and think of your hands. Notice you know they are there without looking. Focus on them, and soon you will feel them tingle. You will feel energy in them. After that, you can move to other parts of your body. And you can use this at night when you want to go to sleep.

 

You are giving your reptilian brain a pause. 

 

After writing this post, I understood my reason for doing the forested trail walks and talks.

 

Let’s say you are an artist, and I believe everybody is. To perfect your craft, you practice. You show up every day.

 

I view this travel through life the same way. You show up every day—consciously. You find things that uplift. You look for the good. You find ways to still your mind chatter; you pull yourself back into alignment when you stray off the path.

 

I would love to have you join me on Jewell's Happy Trails. The second video will be up before long. It's better. (Try not to listen to my hugging and puffing in this first one.) 

 

You readers are special to me.

 

Love, Jewell, aka Jo, aka Joyce

 

Premiering  today:

 https://www.youtube.com/channel/UC3pPWKU7N1VvVAHOClUSreA

 P.S. After I get 100 subscribers I can have a personal URL which will be easier to remember.

A beauty from the trail.

I awakened this morning—a stupid statement. Otherwise, I’d still be sleeping. Oh, I didn’t want to get up, but something, like my bladder, compelled me. And I felt sorry for Blackie, our adult hen who was penned with the young chicks, so I walked on wet grass to release her from the little house. It was a game like keeping one plate spinning while seeing the other begin to fall, for the young chicks wanted out, and Blackie wanted out, and neither wanted to be with the other.

 

Well, now I’m awake. Blackie is out. My feet are cold and wet. Okay, let’s get to work. I’m not fixing breakfast, although I’m starving, so I take Sweetpea and we go out in the truck for coffee and a scone. (She likes the truck better than the car, for I have a blanket over the console, and she can sit beside me.) Not the best breakfast, I know, but desperate times require desperate measures.

 

While drinking my coffee with the heater jacked up to womb temperature, I listened to Marie Forleo interview Seth Godin, the premier blogger who blogs every day. He says he would blog whether anyone reads it or not. When you are forced to have something to say every day, you observe. You leave a trail of your thoughts.

 

You might be thinking, maybe your thoughts stink, but they are your thoughts, your observations, and you showed up.

 

All that was to tell you I showed up here today.

 

Seth also said that to search for our “Calling” is nonsense. This was precisely my point in writing Where Tigers Belch. In it, my young protagonist sets out on the jungle trail to find her destiny, her calling, and she figured where the tiger belches would be her spot.

 

Well, I think it is more like this: You create your calling as you go along. The Universe, the Great Spirit, whatever you want to call the Divine, is there to get with Your Program.

 

Some might take offense at that statement, thinking they should follow “God’s Will.” But consider this, what if “God’s Will” is your will. He, she, it didn’t put us here to be puppets. The Patriarchal God wants obedience. The Mother wants her children to find their own calling. Yep, sometimes you land on Park Place where your opponent has three hotels, and you go bankrupt paying the rent, but it’s only a game (Monopoly). You can play again tomorrow or in a second.

 

I revamped, edited, changed Where Tigers Belch a smidge and will publish it as a novella. Amazon sent a notice of a contest, and I decided to enter, although some say the chances of winning are slim when it isn’t a full-length book. (Where Tigers Belch is between 8,000 and 9,000 words, 49 pages. The requirement for the contest is over 25 pages)

 

I wrote Where Tigers Belch over 12 months, one episode (chapter) a month. I had two subscribers who I love dearly, and knowing they had subscribed forced me to meet my appointed deadline every month. I thank Marilyn and Meredith profusely. I didn’t know where this story was leading, so it was an adventure for me. I’m happy with the outcome and that they didn’t leave me alone stumbling through the jungle. I’m sending a Chirp book (notebook where they can write their own story) to both readers for subscribing to that newsletter at $12.99 for a book that will be for sale on Amazon for $2.99. (If I can ever get my Tiger picture at a resolution high enough for a cover.)

 

I’m playing hot/cold with life. Suppose I have a desire or a thought to produce something. In that case, generally, I do it—not everything, but ideas pertaining to my work. I took two forest walks for YouTube that might embarrass me, but what the heck, it’s me. Justin Perry said it was a good idea. I agreed.

 

How have you been feeling?

 

Have you felt a little off-kilter? I have. wonder how much the past year has worn us down. I’ve heard that mental problems are up, and it’s no wonder with people stressed out, worrying, and fearful. It’s enough to trouble the most stalwart heart.

 

If I could put salve on the hurt, I would. You know, while we’re on the trail creating our life’s work, doing the job we love, finding the relationships we want, we also want to contribute to the good and to offer a helping hand to those who stumble.

 

“Was it you or I who stumbled first? It does not matter. The one of us who finds the strength to get up first must help the other.”

 ― Vera Nazarian 

 

Oh yes, it’s been an exciting week in Junction City. A house across the street burnt to the ground. Scary stuff. It was under construction, a house behind a house, and right over the back fence from our friend’s house directly across the street.

 

Daughter dear was walking her dog at 1:30 in the morning and noticed a glow, thinking someone was burning. By the time she turned around, it had become a full-fledged blazing fire. We ran, waking people. One, an elderly woman, had to be wheeled out in a wheelchair. Her daughter said she hated that house. It had dormer windows that faced directly into their back yard. House gone.