TAKING A DEEP BREATH HERE

Maybe it's time to JUST DO IT!

That's Lona on the Right! So excited to see her after 20+ years!

How to begin the story about the impact this woman has had on my life at its most critical points?

Go back, go back.

It is 198? and my then-husband Lowell and I are trying to work our way through some serious relationship issues. I had already left him once only to return (whole other story in THAT). 

We find out that the Refuge, a Domestic Violence Program, will soon be training their first batch of volunteers and we sign up, him telling me that since we've successfully resolved our own issues it would be good to share that success with others.

As the training progresses, we realize that we've barely touched the tip of our personal iceberg; we aren't qualified to try to help anyone else when our own situation is an explosion waiting to happen. He opts out of the training; I remain, learning and absorbing knowledge and information like a sponge, applying every last bit to my own life.

And Lona is there. 

She knows before we do that there's something seriously amiss in this couple who has shown up in her training program; and she allows us to remain. 

Her choice provides us with the chance to figure out for ourselves the deeper issues beneath what we thought we had successfully addressed, namely the physical abuse that had infected our relationship like a virus.

Lowell, unwilling or unable to go deeper, opts out of not only the training but our home as well. 

And Lona is there.

When it becomes clear that Lowell has no interest in taking the steps required to save our relationship, Lona provides me with the tools I need to carry on alone.

She is there for me. Somehow she understands the complicated position I am in and guides me gently but quite very firmly along the way. 

Because I am both one of the first victims served by the Refuge and one of the first volunteers, my path is sometimes murky to me. 

Lona seems to have no murk to deal with, not when it comes to me anyway.

She puts me on the hotline. She encourages my participation in support groups, both as survivor and advocate. She sends me to court with someone who needs desperately to know that she is not all alone. She sends to my home women and children who need safety. At times I have to wonder if I'm up to it; Lona says I am and so ... I am up to it. 

I leave to return to UND, to finish at long last my Bachelor's degree in Psychology. I meet Steve and we are awesome. We have a daughter and move to the mountains to make a dream happen.

Returning to Cambridge with nothing except ourselves, our animals, and what we can fit into the International Travelall we are driving, it is to Lona I turn. 

Lona is there.

She sees to it that the house we rent gets furnished with needful things. She brings me up to date on what's been happening; she includes me in current events; she smiles when those with whom we meet chide me for loading my food with salt (and me pregnant as a house, a risky pregnancy from the get-go and the reason for our leaving the mountains in the first place).

Such a long time ago it all was. That time will be ever hazy for me, but one thing remains strong and clear to me.

Lona was there.

Strong and able, perfectly willing to challenge me to BE, to BECOME. to BELIEVE. 

More than twenty years have passed.

Walking toward the restaurant where we are to meet, my nephew asks, 'Will you even recognize her?'

'Yes.'

And my step quickens almost to a run across the parking lot.

Yes. Oh yes, I recognize her.

Lona is there.

And all is right in my world.

This time, for the first time, I have something to give to her. It is perhaps not the way she sees it, but for the first time I feel as though finally I am a woman grown, as opposed to the needy child she has only ever known me as. 

Yes, of course I realize that has been my own perception - one I hadn't even fully realized until I saw Lona this time. This time, this one time, for the first time, I was coming to her knowing that I am the strong woman she has always told me I am. 

And, to me, this moment is maybe the most valuable of the gifts this woman has brought to my life. 

Lona is there.

This time she sees not a broken young wife and mother; she sees not a frightened woman struggling to cope. 

This time she sees a woman who knows that she is strong. 

It is the woman that Lona has seen all along, I think. 

And that, my friend, is the gift she has given to me - the smile of recognition and respect that she has always greeted me with is somehow different this time. 

It takes a bit for it to sink in but at last I realize what the difference is.

The difference is in me. 

Lona is no doubt seeing the same woman she has known for many years; but she is also seeing in me something she hasn't seen before.

What she recognizes is that now I know my own strength. That's the difference. It is a gift I can give to her, one she has worked for and looked for since the get-go I think, one that doesn't always happen among us. The realization that she sees it - that is her gift to me. 

The books I hand to her are but a little token of thanks for so very much. 

I feel as though in some way I have come home.

I had to call in today.

And of course they have to know why.

And of course I flounder around trying to find words that will work. Being INFJ means I’m essentially unable to justify an untruth, most especially one coming out from my own mouth.

Are you sick?

Kind of.

Do you have the flu?

No.

And I mumble something about just not being able tonight.

Is it your nerves?

That brings a dry little laugh.

Sort of but not really.

‘Nerves’ implies instability and the professionals I went to back in the day emphatically assured me that I’m one of the most stable people they’ve ever encountered.

Being INFJ my communication skills lie in the written word, not in being put on the spot to provide an immediate answer to someone whom I neither know very well nor trust to understand what I mean.

How do I communicate the very real and entirely legitimate physical and emotional distress associated with something so very few of us have to try to live with on a daily basis?

Even the ones I’ve tried to get to look into it either haven’t bothered or think it’s hooey – or something.

No it’s not ‘nerves’. No it’s not the flu or a broken bone or anything else that might make sense to 97% of the world I live in. It’s being INFJ. It’s being an empath, if that helps clarify it for you. I don’t like the term but it’s one that more people have at least a little comprehension of.

At a job interview one time I was asked, ‘What’s your greatest strength?’

‘I care. Deeply.’

‘What’s your greatest weakness?’

‘I care. Deeply. ’

Nobody I know really understands the toll taken nor the consequences I pay for choosing to remain a CNA. I’m not in it for the money, not when I bring home barely 800 bucks a month and  for seven months of the year 400 of that goes to keep one room of my house at 50 degrees.

I do it because I can’t manage to turn off the love I bear those whom I help as best I can. It’s worth the price I pay to do what I do.

I’m good at what I do and I know it. So do my people know it; they love me and I love them, and it shows.

The very thing that makes them love me is the same thing that costs me so very much.

I care. Deeply.

A large family gathers at the bedside of a much loved parent. The unexpectedness of their emotions catches me off guard and suddenly I’m drowning in a deluge not of my making. Unable to catch my breath I seek solace in busyness and feel the support of my team as we do what needs doing. The family seeks me out; between my busyness and their focus there’s not much time. Bombarded by the feelings that are thick in the air I shield myself as best I can, focusing my attention on tending to the needs of others. When one who has become a friend of sorts sees me, out reach the arms of this strong person. She needs more than her own strength right now; in her eyes are agony, grief, and an unmistakable relief at the sight of me. A world of pain is transmitted in one glance and I stagger within myself for a moment, accepting it, feeling it as though it were my own. For that moment it IS my own and as I accept her hug a part of the pain goes into me and through me, easing her hurt just a little for just a moment – and it’s worth it. To me, yes it is worth it to accept another’s pain if it gives them even a brief and partial respite. And so I make it through the hours, step outside for five minutes of alone pacing and weeping, letting the tears carry tiny portions of the pain away from me as they drop from my face. I love the parent of this family, too. And they know it. They see my tears through the tears in their own eyes, and they know. And so I lower my shields and accept as much of their anguish as I can, not nearly enough, before I have to step away again – focusing once more on the needs of others. My internal resources are depleted; those very few who know me well enough recognize this. They may not understand it but they recognize and respect it. Home at long last my body wracks with the sobs I can finally vent. Through the night they come and go until dawn brings morning bird song to make me smile, and sleep.

The tears carry a lot of it away; the sleep begins the healing; writing it out brings more of both; finally sleep will again claim me and the process will continue until I can again eat. This is a sign that I am beginning to feel myself, that my strength is returning both for defensive purposes and to share where needed, to be taken and given. This has been a very difficult one for me and I feel it to my DNA.

The repercussions linger, sometimes in physical symptoms but not always. I am drained; asking me to function and perform as usual will not magically restore what has been taken from me and given by me. A time of healing is necessary, not optional.

So am I sick?

Kind of.

Am I functional?

Certainly.

So why did I call in?

Functional in terms of being not dead does not necessarily mean I’m anywhere near up to par. I would rather not subject myself to a ‘second verse same as the first’ scenario and I’m fairly certain my tapped-out strength would not stand up for long in the face of the emotional assault I pretty well know would hit me; it’s affecting me even from here – going into it in an already weakened state would no doubt lead to tears on a job where such things are most assuredly not encouraged nor accepted. I would get sent home; if not, the toll would be more than I am willing to bear. Better to call in and face whatever fallout that generates than add to the burden of a family already in distress.

How can I possibly convey all of the above in a word or two to someone who can’t possibly understand?

If I could fake having the flu, or lie about things, it would probably make it easier for everyone.

Then again, if I could do that, what kind of person would be looking back at me from my mirror?

People are forever asking me how I can be so happy all of the time, how I can smile and sing. More than once I’ve been told that I carry peace with me, and give them hope because I am proof to them that not all is dreary and dark after all.

And they’re not wrong. They are seeing true. Within me does live happiness. And smiles and Song. Peace reigns even when it doesn’t feel like it. In me, in you, in all of us if we choose to find it, accept it, live it.

But what my people see comes with a price tag for me that even those closest to me rarely know about.

When the price has been paid I am once more able to share the happiness, the smiles and Song, the peace.

I’m not just taking a lazy day of doing nothing out of a desire to get out of work.

How many times have I done this?

Twice in four years, far fewer than have been needed.

Mostly I ignored my own needs and pushed myself to perform until I was literally dropping in my tracks, a choice encouraged and expected of me. Segments of our society seem to think menial workers HAVE no needs other than a paycheck; lip service is given but … ONE person, ONE in four years, took one step when she saw me literally exhausted almost to the falling over point. After I had put in some doubles and was going into yet another one, she sent me home. It was the DON who just happened to be passing through on one of her rare visits to the Units. My condition must have been appallingly obvious – but I was going to put in that double because it was necessary.

Pushing oneself physically is one thing, and not really so very bad as a general rule. Pushing oneself emotionally and spiritually is a whole different ball of wax.

Since this has already reached ‘massive missive’ status, I’ll continue. The rest of this is likely to be a diatribe: forewarned is forearmed: read on only if you have a desire for reality, and the stomach for it. If you don’t like it, oh well.

Once when our whole team was feeling the stress, not just me, we asked for help. We got sent to some ‘counselor’ who didn’t know what Compassion Fatigue was until I explained it to him. This guy was a professional whose clientele includes people in the medical industry, mind you. His solution was to suggest we run ourselves a bubble bath in the middle of the afternoon; in addition he handed us a CD and told us that listening to his voice as we fell asleep would do us a world of good. This was after we refused suggestions of pharmaceuticals.

We don’t need drugs; we don’t need bubble baths; we don’t need some strange guy’s voice in our ears.

We need respect and recognition. And real help.

At the time we had several sundowners who became more agitated as evening wore on, our shift. We requested quieting things down before their sundowning got into full swing – turning the television off, putting on quietly soothing nature sounds with calm music background, dimming bright lights … for our benefit as well as theirs; US staying calm would help, too. Nothing happened and we held ourselves together as a team as best we could, talking to one another and supporting one another through it. Two of us only, from that team, remain.

Burnout is probably the single most preventable thing in the world –

In one group meeting I was called ‘STUPID’ with emphasis, and referred to as a cow, along with many of my colleagues. This is not a cherished memory. It was, however, a turning point for me. It made me ask myself, ‘Really, Shiela?  Just exactly HOW STUPID are you? How much like cows are we, really, to sit here in obedient silence and allow this person to speak to us with such obvious derision and scorn?’

Dropping down to part time cost me about half of my income, between the fewer hours and a four dollar an hour pay cut.

It also gave me the freedom to begin viewing my part time job AS a part time job, not the be-all and end-all of my then-bleak existence. It took some time and a lot of adjusting but I soon realized that I was feeling alive, really truly alive (with energy, and everything! WOW!) for the first time in quite a long while.

When I could tell myself, and believe it, that from the time I clock in until the time I clock out my time and talents belong to someone else, it helped.

What helped even more was when I could tell myself, and believe it, that from the time I clock out of that part time job, until the time I clock back in, my life belongs to ME. I am in no way obligated to make it any part of my life between clock-out and clock-in.

If someone should have a problem with that I know of a couple of good counselors who would be happy to help them cope with their problem for under $175.00/hour. That’s an expense I would have been shouldering myself, plus gas money and the time it takes to drive halfway across the state and back once a week (a full day) – just to be able to continue in my job.

Scoff if you will; that was my other option.

Sitting down and weighing the odds, putting the pros and cons into black and white, I figured that if both options were going to cost me half of my income I was going to go with the one that gave me HOPE.

It has done more than that.

It has given me a life again.

Either way I was going to be poverty-stricken; the difference is that survival is not truly life. I wanted to find out if I could actually live.

A year ago I would have apologized in advance for possibly offending with parts of this.

Now I make no apologies.

When I clock in at my part time job the best I have to offer is on the table.

When I clock out I take it with me as it belongs to me.

Writing this out of my system on this day is part of the healing process.

What I do with it once it is written is my choice.

Whether or not I share it is up to me. When and where and how and with whom I share it is up to me.

No I’m not clocked in.

Yes I have nevertheless given this day to my part time job, more hours than I would have given had I gone and clocked in.

Not in the way some would have preferred (that would be the clocking in part whether I was ‘able’ or not), but in a way that will allow me to go back to it healed and strengthened – which is a better deal for my people, all things considered. They need and want and deserve a fully functional CNA; they need and want and deserve the best I have in me.

Wracking weeping, tears carrying away toxins and pain, sleep, writing, more sleep, a meal, more writing, and again sleep – this has been needed on this day. It isn’t always like this, but today it is what it has taken for me to regain the strength that will be required of me.

So yeah, I had to call in today.

Am I sick?

Not any more. I’m recovering now.

If you have a problem with my reasons, I’ll see if those counselors can fit you in.

Well Ya Know ...

Well

Ya know

The world

Aint gonna

Cooperate

With you

Just on

Your

Say

So

O

Indeed yes I do know that.

But sometimes the world can be rough on me; not many understand that. Almost everyone is clueless about the way things impact me. I do the best I can but the price I pay is enormous and so very few ‘get it’ that there are times I really DO need healing time.

I need time to find the strength to cope with what’s been thrown at me. I barely make it through sometimes.

That doesn’t mean I’m weak although I can most surely be weakened at times when the highly charged emotions of others are suddenly my own. When the hurting of another person floods me without warning, the sensation can freeze me in my tracks figuratively speaking and sometimes literally. It will take me a moment to get my shield up, so to speak. During that brief moment the wounds can go deep … and so I am weakened just when I’m called on to offer my best to another. Drawing strength from a position of weakness takes a lot out of me but do it I must.

And that leaves me with very little to go with. Regaining both what has been taken by the wounding and given by the sharing … it doesn’t just happen automatically nor immediately. It takes time and a degree of focus.

So yeah, I need healing time. It’s not optional.

I also need time prepare myself for the ‘next round’.

When I know ahead of time that a challenge lies ahead it behooves me to prepare as best I can for it.

When the two are conjunctional the combination might immobilize me and I know it.

Preventing that from happening means taking the time to both heal and prepare.

It’s taken me a very long time to realize that I can’t keep pushing myself and allowing others to push me beyond the point of challenge to that of defeat.

When my internal resources are depleted, nobody wins.

People don’t really ‘get’ that.

When I garner the courage it takes to try to tell even a few that I’m INFJ, an ‘empath’ if you will, and of those few even fewer realize what it means or care to learn; when their main concern is that I do what I do and do it well (oblivious to what it costs me) … well, it doesn’t do much to encourage me to try any more to get through to people.

I still do what I do – it’s instinctive and I can’t just turn it on and off or believe me I would. And I pay the price. The additional price of being judged ought not to be part of the deal, but it is.

I don’t expect the world to accommodate me; I do my best to adjust to the needs and concerns of others. The fact that there’s no reciprocity, or very little, is the norm – you’d think I’d get used to it, but it still stings.

If I had a condition people could relate to, or a physically obvious characteristic (pointy ears maybe?), they might pay more attention and be more accepting when my need to recover trumps their need for me to perform.

What’s instinctive to me is impossible to most of the rest of the world. No wonder nobody understands or cares.

Pffft.

All I can do is the best I can do so I’d best 

JUST DO IT.

And damn the torpedoes.

Authors Create Characters

I'm going to call this a rebuttable presumption.

M'Lady

Some years ago I met a Lady.

This lady is kind, sweet, generous with praise, frugal with criticism, loving, gentle … if there’s a word with connotations of the best characteristics of humanity, it fits this lady.

I can see her, in a day gone by now, surrounded by her children, in the arms of her husband, glowing with a serenity and calm peace amid a chaotic world of her very own. Her happiness flows to cover all around her with a golden rainbow aura; she is the center of her world and she knows it, revels in it, celebrates it.

When one day she is gone still she will be the center of the world she has graced with her love for so very long. It will not have to go on without her because she has been, is, and will forever be M’Lady. Her gifts live in and through her children, their children, and those yet to come.

Every once in a great while the world is home to one that is destined to generate in others such love and devotion, admiration and respect, that the qualities which inspire others seem to embrace them, become a part of them, are shared and  passed on by them … and so are eternal.

Such a one is M’Lady.

One day it will be time for her to return to the arms of the husband she has been missing for many years. Their reunion will be filled with joy and, together once more, they will watch over their children with even more love than ever.

Having had the privilege of meeting M'Lady and being granted the blessing of getting to spend time with her … it’s something pretty special. I will be eternally grateful for the chance to know her. 

The SONG Line-Up! LINKS

In a few weeks there will be an addition to this line-up when Mamm of Iona shows up on the scene! 

Click on the words beneath each book: they're links to more information and previews, and the easiest way to buy them.

Print Version  Click to Buy!
OR
If you want KINDLE

      

Print Version Click to Buy!

OR

If you want KINDLE

Print Version Click to Buy!

OR

If you want KINDLE

Print Version Click to Buy!

OR

If you want KINDLE

The Mamm Books are dual story-line. One is a generational family history; the other follows the 'current' generations who are listening to (and telling) the stories.

Two more Mamm Books will bring the family stories full circle; the story lines will merge in They Are My Song (it's being revised, so look for a new edition in 2015) when the past catches up to the 'present'.

Continuing the cyclic theme to OUR present we'll follow other Characters through the centuries as the Legacy is again and again challenged. Does it survive? We'll find out.

Holy Moly! It's After Three In The Morning!

That'll teach me to get up early, spend a busy day rearranging my house, and get so tired that I take a nap in the evening.

Throws my whole schedule off.

Usually I KNOW when it's the middle of the night.

But I have to say it was a fun and productive day. I only banged my knee once, my hip twice, my sliced but healing finger five or six times, knocked over a set of four paintings (but they did not hit the lamp, thank you Angels for that as it was a true miracle), moved my fridge three times, got my antique bed frame taken apart and put back together in another room with only minor mishaps and minimal hammer blows (a little walnut meat rubbed onto the woodwork will fix those scratches right up, you know - that's how come I keep walnuts around. I have to hide them from Duke, though. I hope he didn't find 'em or I'll be SOL until the store opens.), remembered to eat (made myself two cheeseburgers and thoroughly enjoyed them too!), found my moccasins and put them where they belong (and my ballet slippers too come to think of it - I'm on a roll here), and sorted out my work clothes from my scrubs from my artiste clothes from my real people clothes from my regular clothes and got the winter stuff stashed in my store room where they belong at this time of year (thank God, finally), AND remembered to take out my garbage.

Ha. 

I was in the middle of putting together a promo trailer for Small Town USA and happened to look at the time.

Yep.

It's the middle of the night.

If it's nice tomorrow (later today I guess, but I usually don't admit it's a new day until the sun comes up) I'll maybe get some raking done and pick up all the toys Duke took outside over the winter. He found one of his huge bones a few days ago, brought it inside with him and dropped it smack onto my bare foot. Thanks, Duke. Like I really needed that.

Ah well. So it goes.

If I'm gonna get up when the sun shows up in the sky I'd better get to bed or I'll already BE up.

Getting That Feeling ...

And trying hard to rein it in! 

I've got a lot to get done on the home front in the next three days; then I can 'Turn 'er loose!' and see what happens.

I am very much looking forward to the sheer fun of these next few months! I have no idea in this world what to expect, but I do know that it's going to be a very busy and exciting learning experience for me!

The Younglings are going to hit the press, for one thing. Iona is going to come out. Dunnottar will be in the works for Fall Equinox or Winter Solstice, and SONG's additions will get done. I might focus on that for Spring Equinox release in 2015 and present the complete set then. Or save it until Summer Solstice, better yet, when the weather's more likely to be cooperative. 

But yeah, that feeling is definitely in the air and I'm loving it!

Thank goodness I have lots of home projects to focus on for the next few days, because the end of this month is liable to be the beginning of a hectic time!  

Just for the fun of it!

UND Women's Center - Loving and Giving

I was eighteen when first I stepped foot into UND's Women's Center (a long time ago).

At eighteen you don't expect a work-study job to impact your life a whole lot, let alone affect it for decades to come.

At the time, in the mid-seventies (TOLD ya it was a long time ago!), I was newly from what had been a pretty sheltered up-bringing. My grandmothers, aunts, and my mother herself had already shown and taught me what strong women can do. I had joined Alpha Chi Omega, a sorority at UND and found myself surrounded by more strong women.

Going to work at the Women's Center ... that's what really opened my eyes and gifted me with the vision to see and feel what was so very important about what the women in my life had done, were doing, and even more what they were going to do. And I came to learn that my own contributions were valued and meaningful, even if it was 'just' stuffing envelopes and trekking campus making deliveries. 

I grin today because back then my sorority sisters dubbed me their 'Token Rebel' while my Women's Center colleagues called me their 'Token Sorority Bitch' (with grins of their own). Nobody ever even once insinuated in any way that I ought to choose one path or the other; I was happily walking both in perfect harmony and it was only much later I thought that it might have seemed a bit odd to those who knew me then.

And you know what? I've put on a lot of miles since then, lived a lot of lives ... and come to the understanding that in reality there was no feeling of division for me - because in reality there is no division.

Warriors come in all shapes and sizes, with different skills and interests, and all are equally needed. At times the role of one will be at the fore, at other times another role will be needed to take the lead - yet all are necessary and balance is maintained through the very diversity that one would expect to be divisive. 

The seeds of this knowledge were planted jointly by my family women, Alpha Chi - and the Women's Center has nourished and protected those seeds through the years.

At times my life held fear and confusion. Randomly I would show up at the door of the Women's Center at UND, hurting and needy. Not once did I feel weird about that. Whether it was the simple serenity that pervades the place, a textbook, or advice - the women of UND's Women's Center gathered me in and  helped me to heal.

Another truth that has come to me, in large part via the Women's Center is that the 'traditional gentleness' of women in general is backed by a fierce tenacity, an indomitable courage that cannot be defined by any words that I know, and I have a fairly good vocabulary.

In the very old days of my books women went actively into battle right alongside all who were ready willing and able. Today women also go actively into battle - but in between there were other sorts of battles that needed fighting. I ask myself when that changed and how come that would have had to be. The quest for answers goes on for me. 

I will never find all the answers, but I do know one thing. When I stop in at the Women's Center (all too rarely I fear) I will find there strong women who are loving and giving. 

Today I am smiling in anticipation of a visit soon - just thinking about the quiet serenity I will find there soothes my wounded soul, and knowing that serenity is concurrent with that same fierce strength gives me courage. 

Peace is sometimes hard-bought yet it is what underlies all. The battles of the past have preserved for us the Legacy of our own indomitable spirits.

And I'm going to shut up now before I get really maudlin.

Wright Thurston = Hope and Encouragement

I don't know about you, but there have been, are, and will be times in my life when the Voice of someone I haven't even met brings to me the very words I have need of at the exact right moment.

Often these come from the internet via Facebook or Twitter and the realization hits me that there are many many people out there who have taken the time and made the effort to be kind to those, like me, whom they will probably never lay eyes on but are in need of one kind or another.

Wright Thurston is one of those people.

Just recently I have been in a bit of a funk. This Long Dark Dakota winter seemed to drag on forever; I was feeling cold inside and out, the greening time impossible for me envision, and my enthusiasm for everything at a low ebb.

Today I found in my inbox something that both made me smile and renewed my hope and determination.

It was a link to Wright Thurston's Tweets.

Here's the one that, on this day, went straight to my Soul:

And so, on this day, I say to Wright Thurston:  Thank you so very much for being as you are and for doing what you do. You no doubt hear often that you have made a difference. I affirm that. Today you have given me a gift and I do believe that such things don't just happen by accident.

The Younglings of Dunnottar Are Getting Ready to GO GO GO GO GO!

The Younglings of Dunnottar

As I prepare to introduce the Younglings I realize that they want to introduce themselves, as have the others.

And so . . . I give you:

THE YOUNGLINGS OF DUNNOTTAR!

Merri Speaks

I am Merri of the Younglings of Dunnottar.

My path lies before me

And the choosing is my own to make

Will I be warrior?

Will I be scholar?

Will I be artisan?

Weaver?

Horse-master?

Farmer?

Tender of herds and flocks?

Trader?

Medic?

Law-keeper?

The paths are many and all are open to me

I must choose

Soon

The other younglings will perhaps guide me

I hope so

We, each and all of us, have choices to make

And so we help one another to make them

We are the Younglings of Dunnottar

And we will choose and set our own path

Together

Always

Diann Speaks

I am Diann of the Younglings of Dunnottar

Although born to the Alamanni on the Continent

And my grey eyes and straight blonde hair show that,

It is here on Dunnottar my family has found safety and training for me

I am a kin-fosterling of Dunnottar

But among the Younglings of Dunnottar I am at home

We are a family here

My path is that of Healing

Dianann and Saille spend much time teaching me needful things

I learn also with the rest of the younglings many other needful things

Our life is filled with learning

And fun

Laughter rings about us

Love surrounds us always

It is good

It is good to be here and I am happy

I am very happy to be one of the Younglings of Dunnottar

It is forever

Nothing will part us

Ever

Corrbed Speaks

I am Corrbed of the Younglings of Dunnottar

To me is given the path of scholarship

To Dunnottar have I come as a kin-fosterling

For safety and training

From the high mountains of Andorra

Between Gaul and Iberia

My dark eyes and dark curly hair speak of my homeland

Yet here on Dunnottar am I also at home

Among the younglings have I found brothers and sisters

We will one day be parted

When I return to teach the younglings of Andorra

But we the Younglings of Dunnottar will forever be as one

Know this

We will be always true to one another

We will never let each other go

Always

Never

Such eternal words

And so we are eternal, the Younglings of Dunnottar

Dothann Speaks

I am Dothann of the Younglings of Dunnottar

The blood of the Old Ones runs strong in my veins

Through my mother who is Alianora of Dunnottar

Like her and Mamm I am small with their dark hair and big brown eyes, only Mamm's eyes are green

Some say it is from the Old Ones that I have the curiosity and courage of me

That I don’t know nor do I much care

Life is today

Not yesterday

Nor tomorrow

Today

And there is much to explore in this day

Much to seek and to find

We the Younglings of Dunnottar seek and find

It’s what we do

And we do it together

Always

Brann Speaks

I am Brann of the Younglings of Dunnottar

These my brothers and sisters make me laugh often

They sometimes also bring tears

My father died before my birth so I never met him

But I have Alann and the others to parent me

To me have been given the blond hair and green eyes of Danann

Through my mother Aine his daughter

After he was gone I one time put my foot into a boot he left behind

It went clear to the top of my leg

I will never fill his boots

Never ever ever

Dothann says I mustn’t try

But just be my own self

And someday perhaps my feet will fit those boots

Of that I’m not at all sure

So I guess I’ll wear my own boots

Which seem very small

But they are my own

They fit me and no other

We the Younglings of Dunnottar do what we must

Often we do what we choose too

For good or for ill

And we learn

Together we learn

It will be so for always

We are the Younglings of Dunnottar for now and always

 Rua Speaks

I am Rua of the Younglings of Dunnottar

From Gaul I have been sent to these my kin of Albann

For safety and for training

I am a kin-fosterling

My flame-head of hair sets me apart and I am very small

Being small has its advantages I have to admit

I can get into and out of places the other younglings cannot

Which is very useful for all of us

And you know . . . although I am the littlest of us

They never leave me behind

And I try very hard to keep up to the pace they set

It makes them laugh sometimes

But they NEVER leave me behind

We are all brothers and sisters

We are the Younglings of Dunnottar

And so we will remain always

Even when we grow into Elders

When It All Seems Dark ...

ANYONE ELSE FEEL THIS WAY?

My Life Has Gone From THIS

To THIS

Right Now I'd Settle For THIS

And THIS Would Make Me Happy

Champing At The Bit Here!

Last night I got to bed at a fairy reasonable hour, for me. 

Tried to sleep but images kept forming, just barely at the edge of my perception. For more than hour this kept on.

Realizing that I wasn't going to be getting to sleep any time soon anyway, I got up and went to my laptop to see if pattering would help.

It didn't do much good, so I thought, 'Okay, I'll go into poetry mode, see what happens.'

'Poetry mode' is a sort of freeform writing exercise where I eliminate as many sensory distractions as possible and just let the words go as directly from my thoughts onto my screen or paper as they can. Off goes music, into the other room goes Duke, closed go my eyes and empty my mouth (no snacking or pop or anything else). I can still smell as I daren't close my nose, you know, but my household scents are all familiar and not distracting unless I happen to be cooking apple pie or something; and of course I can feel the keys at my fingertips.

This is the technique I used a lot when writing SONG, for the Voices of the Characters, so I went to them. 

Sat still at the keyboard until one of the Characters came into my mind.

This time it was Sidhelagh, so I clicked on her Voice Font, closed my eyes, and pattered whatever came into my head.

Then it was Danann, and then Mamm, back to Sidhelagh, and then Danann with the last word.

It took over an hour but talk about a productive hour!

Wow.

As usual I waited until I was sure they were done 'talking' before reading any of it.

Again I say: Wow.

At first I thought, 'No way.'

Then I remembered the motto my daughter Tess and I chose for this year: JUST DO IT!

Then in the back of my mind I heard this little girl's Voice: Keep up if you can! 

Hells bells. I can't keep up with them ALREADY! 

THIS, THIS, THIS ?????

Again I thought: No way.

Yes way.

No.

Yes.

Fine, okay.

It's more than a little intimidating, but the Characters are strong enough and all I have to do is follow them - and try to keep up.

A part of me is still saying, 'ARE YOU KIDDING ME?'

But a bigger and stronger part is saying, 'Wow, let's GO!' 

How it's all going to happen, what with this, that, and the other thing demanding huge hunks of my time and attention, I have no idea.

Fortunately for me, I'm not in charge of the Ways and Means Department so I'm not going to fret myself overmuch about it. All I have to worry about is my own part of the deal, whew! A way will be found and the means will show up if/when needed. 

I have to say it's liable to be an exciting ride!

I can't say anything else right now, by executive decree, but I for one am anticipating a mighty remarkable journey and more than a couple of surprises.

Heck, I've already run into more than a couple of big surprises.

So I tell myself: All I have to do is follow them. They know where they're going.

SONG is going to end up with a couple of 'extra' sections, too. THAT ought to be fun - challenging, but awesome in the end.

I just hope one or more of the Characters is/are ready willing and able to kick into the art department because this is going to blow that end of it wide open. 

Yep.

And LittleMamm says, 'Keep up if you can!'

Smart aleck kid.

TARNOS IN MY HANDS ON MONDAY!

And I can't WAIT to get my hands on it! 

*Laughing*

When I'm all excited about getting a print copy of one of my books because I want to just sit down and READ it, people look at me funny and say, 'But ... you WROTE it!'

Indeed, but there's something about having the physical BOOK that gets to me every time. 

And, you know, by the time I get a print book in my hands I'm generally a book or two ahead of it, so the story isn't fresh in my mind ... being able to sit down and read it is always just FUN. 

Not to mention I get to add another volume to the shelf that holds my very own books. 

The Cursing Bishop

The era for this is a piece down the road from 487/88 but we'll get there eventually ... !

This Bishop, I tell ya. He's thorough, I'll say that for him! This curse is more than a thousand words long.

THE BISHOP CURSES THE REIVERS 

In 1525 the reivers had become such a nuisance that the then Archbishop of Glasgow, Gavin Dunbar, put a curse up all the reivers of the borderlands.

"I curse their head and all the hairs of their head; I curse their face, their brain (innermost thoughts), their mouth, their nose, their tongue, their teeth, their forehead, their shoulders, their breast, their heart, their stomach, their back, their womb, their arms, their leggs, their hands, their feet, and every part of their body, from the top of their head to the soles of their feet, before and behind, within and without."

"I curse them going and I curse them riding; I curse them standing and I curse them sitting; I curse them eating and I curse them drinking; I curse them rising, and I curse them lying; I curse them at home, I curse them away from home; I curse them within the house, I curse them outside of the house; I curse their wives, their children, and their servants who participate in their deeds. I (bring ill wishes upon) their crops, their cattle, their wool, their sheep, their horses, their swine, their geese, their hens, and all their livestock. I (bring ill wishes upon) their halls, their chambers, their kitchens, their stanchions, their barns, their cowsheds, their barnyards, their cabbage patches, their plows, their harrows, and the goods and houses that are necessary for their sustenance and welfare."

"May all the malevolent wishes and curses ever known, since the beginning of the world, to this hour, light on them. May the malediction of God, that fell upon Lucifer and all his fellows, that cast them from the high Heaven to the deep hell, light upon them."

"May the fire and the sword that stopped Adam from the gates of Paradise, stop them from the glory of Heaven, until they forebear, and make amends."

"May the evil that fell upon cursed Cain, when he slew his brother Abel, needlessly, fall on them for the needless slaughter that they commit daily."

"May the malediction that fell upon all the world, man and beast, and all that ever took life, when all were drowned by the flood of Noah, except Noah and his ark, fall upon them and drown them, man and beast, and make this realm free of them, for their wicked sins."

"May the thunder and lightning which rained down upon Sodom and Gomorra and all the lands surrounding them, and burned them for their vile sins, rain down upon them and burn them for their open sins. May the evil and confusion that fell on the Gigantis for their opression and pride in building the Tower of Babylon, confound them and all their works, for their open callous disregard and opression."

"May all the plagues that fell upon Pharoah and his people of Egypt, their lands, crops and cattle, fall upon them, their equipment, their places, their lands, their crops and livestock."

"May the waters of the Tweed and other waters which they use, drown them, as the Red Sea drowned King Pharoah and the people of Egypt, preserving God's people of Israel."

"May the earth open, split and cleave, and swallow them straight to hell, as it swallowed cursed Dathan and Abiron, who disobeyed Moses and the command of God."

"May the wild fire that reduced Thore and his followers to two-hundred-fifty in number, and others from 14,000 to 7,000 at anys, usurping against Moses and Aaron, servants of God, suddenly burn and consume them daily, for opposing the commands of God and Holy Church."

"May the malediction that suddenly fell upon fair Absolom, riding through the wood against his father, King David, when the branches of a tree knocked him from his horse and hanged him by the hair, fall upon these untrue Scotsmen and hang them the same way, that all the world may see."

"May the malediction that fell upon Nebuchadnezzar's lieutenant, Olifernus, making war and savagery upon true christian men; the malediction that fell upon Judas, Pilate, Herod, and the Jews that crucified Our Lord; and all the plagues and troubles that fell on the city of Jerusalem therefore, and upon Simon Magus for his treachery, bloody Nero, Ditius Magcensius, Olibrius, Julianus Apostita and the rest of the cruel tyrants who slew and murdered Christ's holy servants, fall upon them for their cruel tyranny and murder of Christian people."

"And may all the vengeance that ever was taken since the world began, for open sins, and all the plagues and pestilence that ever fell on man or beast, fall on them for their openly evil ways, senseless slaughter and shedding of innocent blood."

"I sever and part them from the church of God, and deliver them immediately to the devil of hell, as the Apostle Paul delivered Corinth. I bar the entrance of all places they come to, for divine service and ministration of the sacraments of holy church, except the sacrament of infant baptism, only; and I forbid all churchmen to hear their confession or to absolve them of their sins, until they are first humbled / subjugated by this curse."

"I forbid all christian men or women to have any company with them, eating, drinking, speaking, praying, lying, going, standing, or in any other deed-doing, under the pain of deadly sin."

"I discharge all bonds, acts, contracts, oaths, made to them by any persons, out of loyalty, kindness, or personal duty, so long as they sustain this cursing, by which no man will be bound to them, and this will be binding on all men."

"I take from them, and cast down all the good deeds that ever they did, or shall do, until they rise from this cursing."

"I declare them excluded from all matins, masses, evening prayers, funerals or other prayers, on book or bead (rosary); of all pigrimages and alms deeds done, or to be done in holy church or be christian people, while this curse is in effect."

"And, finally, I condemn them perpetually to the deep pit of hell, there to remain with Lucifer and all his fellows, and their bodies to the gallows of Burrow moor, first to be hanged, then ripped and torn by dogs, swine, and other wild beasts, abominable to all the world. And their candle (light of their life) goes from your sight, as may their souls go from the face of God, and their good reputation from the world, until they forebear their open sins, aforesaid, and rise from this terrible cursing and make satisfaction and penance."