I WEEP, I WEEP

When it gets to the point that I'm seriously upset for no absolutely discernible reason, when even the most valid of personal and family reasons can't account for the Power of ... I don't even know of any words to use that would make sense ... feelings doesn't come close, dread maybe? ... apprehension? ... disturbance in my soul? ... whatever it is, it occasionally hits me so hard that I know I have to see if I can find out what's behind it.

Anyway, as a general rule I try to avoid watching and/or reading the news, because so much of it impacts me so hard that ... well ... carrying on with life as usual gets darned difficult.

Tonight I finally checked, knowing it was going to hurt ... and it does.

It hurts to the marrow of my bones and straight through every cell in me. 

Peace.

Remember what that is, what it means?

How in God's green world am I supposed to reconcile the command for Peace, at least within my own self if no-place else, with the emotions wrought by what's going on out there?

Where now the Peace, when the Warrior wants badly to go to battle?

For quite a long while now an ancient Lament has dominated the songs that run through my mind all the time.

One of my fictional Characters seems to have become fond of saying, 'The wheel goes 'round and 'round ...'

And it seems he's right.

Another cries out, 'Enough! Please let this be enough!'

When will it be enough?

When will we finally cry out, 'Enough!'

Seems to me that we ought to be well past that time.

Seems to me that there ought to be more of us in this world who would that we had Peace than those who would choose otherwise.

Where now our Voices?

I have nothing to speak of in any sense the world at large could understand, my own small Voice being all I've got. On this night I wish it were louder, bigger, stronger ... but, you know, even a small and lonely Voice is heard by the Almighty.

'Enough!' cries the small and lonely Voice in the night.

'Please, please let it be enough!'

Why can't we be done with whatever it is we choose to fight about?

Is there not only One God, the Same God?

Whose is different?

None.

There is ONLY ONE.

To each and all is given the Gift of Choice.

Who can dare to challenge that?

What is there of God in such a challenge?

Nothing.

It isn't up to any of us to presume to choose for another, to question or deny the validity of the path which is given to another to walk. 

Yet we do so presume ... again and again and again ... 

And so the tears rise.

And so the tears course.

And so the tears fall.

Again.

And again.

And yet again.

When will it be enough? 

What are we doing to ourselves?

I want to shout, 'Stop it! Just stop!'

My one small and lonely Voice ... 

Weeping in the night, mourning ... 

Politics, religion, power and control issues, differences of opinion ... people have always and will always be at odds about something or other. Has killing each other ever really worked? Not so's you'd notice.

Really, there's only one thing we all ought to agree on and agree to disagree on the rest of it: Peace. 

It has never happened. It may never happen.

And yet ...

And yet ...

It is not worth wanting, worth working toward, worth praying for each in whatever way best suits?

Ah, I'm sentimental and an idealist. 

Also a bit over-tired at the moment. 

It feels as though the entirety of the world weeps, and me along with it. Why cannot everyone just stop it and let others be as they are Called to be without making a huge issue of it - and let those of us who feel the world's pain have a bit of a rest? 

No rest for the weary I reckon.

Which kinda sucks at times.

Yeah, the Warrior wants a fight. 

But no ... Spiral trumps Sword ... and the Song trumps Spear ... and the wheel goes 'round and 'round ... 

And I weep.

I weep.

The Lament rides my heart and it has cruel spurs and a relentless whip.

Into my hands goes my face and I weep with the pain of our world.

Renegade, Rebel. Rogue, and Riley : Three : Out West in the Olden Days - Enter Reckless and Roger

Renegade, Rebel, Rogue, and Riley are out west and out of cash.

It seeming to be the thing to do in such situations, they rob a bank and run for their lives.

Their horses are waiting just outside of town on the other side of a cliff where they can’t be seen so the bank-robbers run up the easy side of said cliff and leap off the top of the sheer side to land neatly in their saddles.

And they’re off!

The posse chases them of course and they ride into the nearby desert to hide out until the heat is off.

Unfortunately for them, they've chosen the desert for a hide-out and the heat doesn't GO off. Except at night when they realize they've no blankets.

Shivering their way through the night they begin to wonder about themselves.

Now they've got money all right, but no-place to spend it. They can't even have a fire to help with the shivering because the posse is out there somewhere not too far away and would most certainly see their fire if they started one.

What the heck is wrong with this picture?

I'm pretty sure this isn't the way these things are supposed to work.

They dig through their saddle bags and find a few things they've tucked away for a rainy day; not that it's raining being as they're in a desert and all, but they figure their situation is dire enough to qualify anyhow.

Riley has an assortment of candies that little old ladies just seem bound and determined to hand out to her on a regular basis for no discernible reason.

Rogue has a few sticks of jerky.

Rebel has some juice boxes he always has on hand in case his six kids get thirsty; and some dried fruit in case they get hungry.

Renegade has some tortillas she snagged from that place they ate at before they ran out of cash – homemade of course and very tasty.

They’re too upset to eat, what with breaking the law and then getting chased from hell to breakfast, but they take an inventory and aren’t very encouraged by what they find.

So they shiver their way through the cold desert night and eat their supplies for breakfast in the morning.

The next day they’re grateful they listened to Rebel when he nagged them to FILL their canteens before they robbed the bank.

And off they go as they catch a glimpse of dust in the morning air – it seems to be coming their way so they make some dust of their own as they dust on out of there in a fast hurry.

Down the trail a piece they see another cloud of dust with another coming along right behind it.

‘The desert’s a busy place this morning,’ says Rogue as they pull up to see what they can see.

‘Ain’t it just,’ says Renegade.

‘Well, now what?’ Riley wants to know. ‘If we go that way the posse will get us; if we go that way over there we’ll run smack into that one dust cloud, and the other way we’ll hit the first dust cloud. Are there any other clouds of dust around here we need to know about?’

‘I don’t see any but that wagon train up there seems to be dead in the water; it isn’t moving.’

Riley says, ‘Dead in WHAT water? This is a Desert here!’

‘Well you know what I mean. It’s just sitting there right in front of us. We don’t have to turn off at all, just ride right on in. I bet their little old ladies will give us candy.’

And so they do.

The wagon train has seen the clouds of dust and circled their wagons in case it’s a band of Wild Indians.

Turns out that first dust cloud IS a band, although they aren’t exactly Wild, and up they come to the circled wagons hollering something about Easterners.

Easterners out West?

What the heck.

So they let the Indians into the circle and everyone shoots at the Easterners as they ride around and around the wagons.

Since the Easterners started shooting first, this is self-defense.

Rogue wants to know, ‘What’s wrong with those guys? They couldn’t hit the broad side of a barn!’

And she calmly goes back to emptying saddles.

Riley answers, ‘I don’t know but there sure are a lot of them!’

Out of ammunition she switches over to using a sling and keeps pace with Rogue in the emptying of saddles out there.

Renegade has borrowed an extra bow and is shooting darts as fast as she can get the arrows set and off the string.

Rebel is busy darting around inside the circle checking on everyone and making sure they’re all okay, which they are but some are getting tired so he spells someone now and then as the hot day just gets hotter.

A couple of Easterners who have fallen off their horses try to sneak in between the wagons but Riley promptly gives them a whirling kick or two or three and sends them flying back out again where they land among their cohorts and knock a few more of them from their saddles in the process.

Rogue gives Riley a high five and then gets busy her own self with a few more un-horsed Easterners, picking them up by the scruffs of their necks and the seats of their pants and heaving them clear over the tops of the wagons to get them back outside of the circle where they belong.

Renegade never seems to run out of her little darts.

‘How come you never seem to run out of your little darts?’ asks Riley.

‘Well I have here a poison pen,’ answers Renegade. ‘See?’ And she waves an ordinary-looking pen in the air. ‘It never runs out of ink and that’s what I load my darts with. They won’t kill anybody but they sure as hell can knock a person for a loop. I keep it separate from all my other pens, you know, and only use it if someone really has it coming. Some say the pen is mightier than the sword, but you have to load them with the right kind of ink, dontcha know.’

Suddenly into the melee comes a blood bay horse with a screaming banshee on top of it.

Now the Easterners are shocked into dead silence by this apparition – which shock said apparition takes full advantage of with the two pistols she’s firing with both hands as she rides, standing in her stirrups and cutting loose with some almighty loud screams and yells for such a mite of a girl.

The noise has the Indians looking at each other and then at her. They’re impressed.

So in she comes, leaping her horse into a space between the circled wagons.

The Easterners recover themselves and go back to riding around the wagons shooting at all and sundry but not hitting anyone thank goodness.

Their saddles are rapidly emptying as the Westerners are way better shots.

But there are a lot of them and they just won’t let up.

Finally the posse catches up and being respecters of law and order and badges the remaining Easterners give up and turn themselves in.

Turns out they’ve been wreaking havoc in the West for some time now and there’s a bounty on their heads, dead or alive.

Well none of them are dead which is a great relief to everybody since nobody really wanted to kill anyone, just get them to leave them alone. They’ve mostly just been scared senseless by the whizzing of arrows and gunshots that somebody else besides them are producing. Somehow it had never crossed their alleged minds that somebody might shoot BACK at them someday.

Since the money from the bank is covered by insurance the posse lets the bank-robbers keep it – but they divvy it up with the Indians and the wagon train people.

And, when the reward money gets to the posse they send shares of it along to the outlaws.

Now that they’ve got plenty of money again the outlaws leave the owl hoot trail and go back onto the straight path.

Rebel buys actual candy for his kids with part of his share because Riley and Rogue have yelled at him for only having healthy stuff.

‘They’re KIDS, Rebel! Kids have to have CANDY once in a while!’

Thanking the girl for showing up in the nick of time to give them that bit of an edge they needed to hang on until the posse got there, they find out her name is Reckless.

‘I’m an orphan girl and this here is my horse Roger,’ she says.

And so they take her along with them and she comes in mighty handy now and again.

KEEPING MY BALANCE

I'm keeping my balance, if only just barely ... and I thank 

God every day for those who support me and keep me 

moving steady on. I love you. Sometimes a simple smile or a 

kind word or shared bit of a miracle is exactly what it takes. 

So thank you, thank you, thank you for keeping me in line 

and on the balance beam. Being well-balanced is a good 

thing.

ARTWORK TO BE DOING!

I've got some events scheduled over the next weeks and want certain things for the introduction to the Characters.

Sidhelagh has an ever-growing wardrobe so all I have to there is decide what I'm going to wear each time. That, and finish putting together the additions that are waiting to get done. 

The size of the cover paintings readily enough lend themselves to being used; depending on the venue's physical setting they can serve as backdrop and/or front my display table. 

Because Perth is at the head of what I want to introduce to people, my tentative plan is to front my table with that cover painting and have the books dominate the table top.

If the set-up allows I can hang Tarnos behind as a background; if not ... who knows. Tarnos will have its own turn down the road a piece.

But I also want artwork that represents the concepts that lie behind all of my work.

The Spiral of Creation, Life, Death, and Eternity: symbol of the Father.

The Circles of Faith, Family, Friendship, Freedom, and the Future.

The Double Spiral: is the Spiral twisted and leading us to a dead end and if so how can we un-twist it  - if not how do we avoid twisting it so that our future generations will HAVE a future?

The Dove of the Mother.

The Cross of the Son.

I want the four of them on paintings big enough to put together into a back display.

Even though these are informal type gatherings, I figure that I can still at least try to put together a reasonable facsimile of a 'professional' presentation. 

All I can do is the best I can do - so I'm going to do the best I can with what I've got to work with right now.

Taking a break from the writing will give me the rest I need.

The Characters are between battles at the moment so it's a logical breather for me as well.

Of course, there's all that transcribing to do before I start up again but that too can rest for a bit.

Me, I've been missing my paints, pencils, and brushes - and the colors that go along with them.  

And so ... so I'm going to take the time to get some artwork done.

I've got part of today and most of tomorrow for it so the sooner I get going on it the better. 

Come to think of it, I've also got a painting of a barn to do. 

But first things first.

MAMM : SHE'S TIRED AND WANTS TO REST

And so do I!

I don't know how they did it, I truly don't. But there are records of this particular part of our Story that say they did, so they must have.

Anyone who thinks that nobody could have really gone anywhere back in the old old days ... think again.

I'm sitting relatively still in one place and am exhausted from trying to keep up with the movements of these Characters!

And I think what it must have been like for them - for Mamm and her family ... the happiness they brought to one another and the heartache they got one another through ... and the MILES they put on in the doing of it. By ship and on horseback mostly. 

And so the Story grows.

And grows.

And grows.

When historic records popped up showing the existence of someone I hadn't known existed, I had to go find him ... and now I have to get him to where he has to be when he has to be there. Thank goodness for knowledgeable Characters, sez I. Or something. 

*laughing *

Yes I think I do need a rest. I feel as though I've been traipsing around Italy, Greece, France, Spain, Ireland, Scotland, and even America - I've got jet lag, feels like. Within the span of a very few hours I've been in how many time zones? I have no idea.

At any rate, on the Story goes, taking the Characters and me along with it.

As TallUllin of Iona says: The Wheel goes 'round and 'round.

MAMM : PATTERING VERSUS PAPER

I've been long-hand writing lately, then transcribing the pages (and pages, and pages, and pages, and pages) into my working file. 

Pretty soon I'll have enough done that way to read the whole of my to-date book and see if I can tell the difference.

Pattering is when I'm at my keyboard.

When I enter the handwritten pages, I do a little editing as I go along but am surprised at how little that really is. I've also been a bit surprised at how seldom I have to go back and add or change anything. Writing in ink, it's not like I can just erase what I just wrote and fix it. There are some notes and cross-outs and margin scribbles but not nearly as many as I anticipated.

In the past couple of days I've handwritten well over seventy (70) pages of text. I'm not looking forward to the transcription of it all, believe you me, but am kind of curious as to how many pages it will translate into and to finding out what the word count is. 

This is the text for the 'Mamm Story' half of Mamm of Dunnottar; it's already longer and more detailed than any of the other books - but I knew ahead of time it was going to be. 

And so ... tomorrow I reckon I'll find out what I've wrought and hope to high heaven I don't have to rewrite the whole works.

Transcribing it will be bad enough.

Another difference between this book and the others is that I'm writing the 'Mamm Story' half of it in its entirety first. Then I'll fit the 'Dunnottar Story' into it. It's a bit of an experiment as the others were written basically 1-2-1-2-1-2 as far as the dual story lines go.

One of the reasons I can do this one the way I am is that the 'Mamm Story' largely has to fit itself into an actual historic set of events - the others I had no idea what was going to happen next in either of the story lines. 

This is still fiction, mind you, but the times are well-documented (relatively speaking) starting with the dates covered in this book. 

Anyway, because the 'Mamm Story' needs to follow a fairly specific path, I've got to get myself onto that path and stay there straight through without so much of the 'time zone' travel. Bad enough to keep track of my own time and one other one - when it's THREE, I end up with jet lag and forget when and where I'm supposed to be.

As the story lines begin to converge in this book, I figure I'm better off doing them one at a time.

Wish me luck.

BOOKING RIGHT ALONG!

It feels decidedly odd to have a cover design long before the book is actually all the way written!

But I LOVE this sketch. It's the face of my own 'Mamm' and pretty much catches the essence of both her and the fictional 'Mamm' - different times, different places, different life stories ... but they share many qualities ... I've loved my own Mamm for all of my life and I've come to love the fictional one too.

This book is already longer and more complex than any of the others, just a heads up on that ... !! I'm not even halfway through the writing of it, yikes!