Sometimes there are small quotes from books, another person's gift of weaving images and metaphors in such a way that sums up exactly what is going on in the readers reality without clinically spelling it out. One of the most poignant novels I've read is The Secret Scripture by Sabastian Barry. It's the type of … Continue reading When We Stop and Blink
Category: My Writing
Memory as Metaphor
Memory is a funny thing. Multi-metaphorical. It’s like a tiny alligator. Lurking in shallow water leisurely swimming by moving it’s tail. You wade tentatively in life feeling warmth and security. Going further out and away. When suddenly it grabs your ankle in it’s sharp pointy teeth reminding you it’s there. And then leaving little pointed … Continue reading Memory as Metaphor
Purging in Purgatory
You know that place you sometimes go where you feel all itchy and unsettled inside. Like you don’t know if you should go out and run a mile or just sit down on the floor in a puddle and try to cry? You’re feeling something but you can’t quite name it? You’re not happy, you’re … Continue reading Purging in Purgatory
Shards of Bare Mute Blackness
I keep journals. Journals possessing emotional streams of consciousness. Travel journals. Journals that read as an itemization of my day. Journals with ideas and impressions from anything and everything. But I also have a journal filled with quotes. Quotes from novels. Lines from poems. Dialogue from movies. Chains of words I find especially poignant and … Continue reading Shards of Bare Mute Blackness
Corpora vs Spiritus
"The day of the corpora is the night for the spiritus. When the bodies cease their labour the spirits in man begin their work. The waking of the body is the sleep of the spirit and the spirit's sleep a waking for the body." (Paracelsus cited in Lawrence Durrell's "Justine") Well, this explains why I'm … Continue reading Corpora vs Spiritus
A Meditation on Thornton Wilder
“There arose a perfume of tenderness, that ghost of passion which, in the most unexpected relationship, can make a whole lifetime devoted to irksome duty pass like a gracious dream” (pg. 74) The Bridge of San Luis Rey by Thornton Wilder. I have fallen in love with Thorton Wilder because of this quote. How wonderful … Continue reading A Meditation on Thornton Wilder
The Sound of Lightening
We are having a bout of hot weather and lightning storms before the arrival of autumn. I love the sound of lightning. No, I don’t mean thunder. I don’t like thunder. It sounds ominous and threatening and downright mean. But lightening…the flash in the distance. The moments of silence. The beauty without the boom. It’s … Continue reading The Sound of Lightening
“Time Heals What Reason Cannot
Time heals what reason cannot. ~Seneca It’s interesting how much difference a day can make. I am continually amazed at how, over the course of a measly twelve hours a person can go from being mired in the deepest darkest pit of disappointment to walking on sunshine. This change cannot merely be a matter of … Continue reading “Time Heals What Reason Cannot
An Intelligent Hell
“An intelligent hell would be better than a stupid paradise” Victor Hugo Interesting. Once in a while I'll have a day where I find it difficult being nice to stupid people. Now, I know that doesn’t sound very kind of me but I seriously have no patience for anyone who just seems, well, juvenile. And … Continue reading An Intelligent Hell
Antonia Finds a Husband
Chapter 3 Once there was a young girl named Antonia Gigglegoose. Antonia came from a very large family. There were Gigglegoose brothers in the first and second grade, and Gigglegoose sisters in the fourth and fifth grade, and there were even Gigglegoose triplets in kindergarten! Antonia herself just finished the third grade. It was summer … Continue reading Antonia Finds a Husband
It’s the Little Things. In Honour of Father’s Day
In honour of Father’s Day I thought I’d share some little things my father used to do that made my sisters and I feel loved: 1. He would sharpen our pencil crayons with his jack-knife. 2. When my sisters and I would come home off the school bus he’d leave us a little note on … Continue reading It’s the Little Things. In Honour of Father’s Day
Ink And Spine 