April Showers: The Sweet Rain of Books

Hi, folks. Today I'm putting my writer hat aside, and my creative hat too. I'm placing that reader hat on my head. Here, I'm going to talk about something I don't chat about much. I love to read. I read every day of my life. I mark off the days for books to be published. My life revolves around stories, true and fiction. There is nothing that waters my life more than books. I love the sweet rain of books.

I'm not a highbrow reader.  I occasionally read a book that is called literary fiction, but most of the time, I like children's books and genre fiction, most of all historical, historical romance and science fiction.  I occasionally binge on non-fiction. I have had entire decades devoted to mysteries and thrillers. I never like horror. I like the classics and read one or two a year. I read a few fantasies every year too. Occasionally, I just like an author, and I read everything they have ever written.

In books, I have lived thousands of lives. I have faced thousands of problems. I am more because of books.

I've survived the Battle of Talavera in 1800s Spain, and at the same time, the intrigues of Russian noblemen in the times of Peter the Great. The history of the Netherlands for thousands of years boils in my blood. I've seen the pyramids built and inhabited huts with my fellow slaves. I lived in the bogs of Ireland thousands of years ago struggling against my harsh gods. The stories of ages inhabit my soul.

I've felt Mr. Darcy's pride and Elizabeth Bennet's prejudice. I've been with Jane and heard Edward's mystic cries through time and space.  I've survived bombings while working with my true love.  I've been broken into shards and found love with someone also as broken as me. I've missed huge swaths of life, frozen with fear, and found the fortitude to love again. So many stories.

I've traveled to the far reaches of the galaxy. I've fought aliens, terra-formed planets, and discovered the ruins of ancient species. I've been sold into slavery and been rescued by an intergalactic cop. Apocalyptic nuclear winters, green jungle worlds, the harsh conditions of Mars, I've lived in a myriad of unique environments, survived, thrived and sometimes died. Like the intense electromagnetic radiation of the sun, the heart of all life, speculative stories have transformed me.

I've sat on the bones of dead children waiting for rescue from a white mouse. I've had my memories stolen from me and forged a new life. My puppy fell out of an airplane once! Oh, one of my best friends is a spider, and I might be some pig. I care too much and call it love.  I've opened my heart and believe that someone will come. I am stronger than I think, and I may not belong in the zoo, but there is a place for me. I like your hat, I understand the price and know stories are light in this dark, dark, world.

Books water the soul. They expand horizons and open my eyes to the distance shores.  They encourage me to be more, to accept myself and others and believe in happiness with good things beyond the bright light of last moments on Earth.

Pick up a book and read till your heart is content!

Next week a new series starts. Exciting news! A guest blogger will usher in the month of May with Bloom! Excellent author Alexandria La Faye will be here! If you don't know her books already, please check her out!!! Edith Shay! Strength of Saints!  Strawberry Hill!  So many fab stories. www.facebook.com/alafayeauthorwww.alafaye.com, a@alafaye.com

Here is a doodle.

Here is a quote for your pocket.

Stop being so fruitlessly busy and dream. Use your imagination. Reach out into the unknown and dream of how you can enlarge your experience and improve your mind and your soul and your world. Mary Balogh

The Unexplored Country

Hi, folks. This has been my unfortunate refrain for a while: my heart aches. I've worked hard as a creative person and believe I have little to show for it. It's tough when the lowliest worker makes more than me. For sure, I've made mistakes on my creative journey, and those mistakes have cost me, but I have always believed my gift would make a place for me. Instead, I've found shut doors. This has led to more than a few nights, sitting in my rocking chair and staring off into the dark night.

Here is a mystery that is greater than me. Once there was man named Micah--he was my kind of person, against unjust leaders, a defender of the rights of the poor, and a believer in social justice. He lived over 500 years B.C.E. ago, and yet his words connect to my experience.  Here is his thought, "Though I sit in darkness the Lord will be light." I'm an American, so "Lord" isn't one my favorite words, we are not the Lord and King crowd. I recognize this Lord as the "Everlasting Intelligence" or "The Maker of the Immovable Rules" or the Heart of the Universe. When I don't know, the Heart of the Universe knows. 

It's strange how light will slip into your soul in the dark night. In the midst of tough times, hope finds me. I find myself dusting myself off, and, as if I'm some mythical creature, I feel myself rising. This season has been a place of darkness for me, and yet I look up in the night and see the infinity of stars. Light always finds its way into the dark corners. There are no words to how this comforts me. I feel drawn into the light. 

What is my response to this light? Light illuminates the terrain. It frees me to move forward. As an artist, I want to build new walls and pour histories into them. I can see the ground now and can see the best places to put the walls. For me, writing is an imagined history that is as real as any history. My imaginary wings are spreading. I see far off seas and the hint of unknown mountains. I have held myself back but now I must extend my boundaries. What will I find in the unexplored country? 

I hope that you are comforted by this. The light will find you where ever you are. I am sure of this.  I will be back next week with more reflections. 

Here is a doodle for you. Waterlilies.

Good news if this is you:

Micah 4:6 ...I will gather the lame; I will assemble the exiles and those I have brought to grief. I will make the lame my remnant,...