“Standing With My Toes Hanging over the Edge”…It’s a Six.

Welcome to GirlieOnTheEdge and a vaction edition of the Six Sentence Story. Our Hostess Zoe, aka Ivywalker puts on a bloghop each and every week and invites any and all to share a story, poem, limerick, anecdote (catch my drift?) that contains no more and no less than 6 sentences. I have found it to be an enjoyable challenge! This week’s cue word is Craft.

The thin girl, wavy, flowing hair resistent to being contained under the starched bonnet, was barely out of her teens but in this time period she was considered a young woman, an adult subject to the laws of the small minded community to which she was born.

She’d been brought before the council to answer for what she was accused – crimes against humanity and Christianity and all things holy and good, witchcraft – and while older women were the majority accused, she stood as an example that no female was exempt from accusation.

A life had been saved, a young life she saw no reason to be sacrificed to the impenetrable ignorance of religious fervor that permeated the day. She had been taught how to cultivate and mix herbs into healing potions and linaments, medicine surely as effective as anything prescribed by the so called “doctors” of the day by Agwi, an island slave who’d been brought against his will to this fledgling colony.

Bridget couldn’t remember the first time she met Agwi, it felt as if she had always known him, and just as certain was the feeling, the knowing, that there was something extraordinary about the dark skinned slave.

She was tutor to the young boy whose parents, Agwi served, and so it was that a friendship almost magically was able to grow and flourish right under the noses of those who would surely have disapproved, association with a slave was tantamount to the worst crime save for witchcraft.

Under Agwi’s careful, albeit clandestine tuteledge, Bridget learned the craft of medicinal herbs, homeopathic remedies and ways in which to soothe ailments so prevalent to the times but tragically there was no cure for fear and ignorance as she now stood before the tribunal accused of consorting with the devil himself instead of being praised for saving the life of her young student.

And Yet I Find…Another TToT at the Edge

Good morning. Welcome to GirlieOnTheEdge and my contribution to the Ten Things of Thankful blog hop, courtesy of our own world traveling Lizzi Lewis.

I sit facing almost due east, to my right, early morning sun near blinding me as it demands entrance into the lower level family room in which I have taken refuge today. Light so bright my reflection stares back at me, superimposing my own self over these words. Quite cool. For this, I am thankful.

the-spot

2. I gaze both at this screen and out the French doors into the world of my homeland. And so, I am thankful for a safe journey yesterday arriving in sunshine.

3. So very thankful I am to be on vacation! It has been a year since having time off. Feels good🙂

4. I am always thankful for my brother and sister-in-law’s kindess and generosity. They always make me feel welcome when I visit. I’m thinking, hoping, perhaps this trip, this time, clarity will be mine as I sleep soundly in the room of re-direction. I’d like to think I’ll sleep in since I’m on vacation. In my mind’s eye that is what I will do this week. But if today is any indication, I’ll be awake and up before 6:30 am. Wait! That is sleeping in!

5. As things turned out, my visit this week allows me to celebrate my sister’s birthday in person😀

6. This may be a bit premature, but I’m thankful in advance for being able to get together with a few friends while I’m back. Guess I’d better let them know, eh?😀 I’m a fan of surprises. rogers, in general, aren’t that into surprises. You know, the preparation thing. Which is why I told my sister Thanksgiving Day I was coming to visit. Sure enough, she made plans for today…last Thursday🙂 Fine by me since I had made the “surprise” plan for Wednesday night🙂

7. the Wakefield Doctrine.

8. Proximity to Mystic, CT. It’s where Annaliese grew up. I’m thinking of driving there for some inspiration. The writing thing. Gone for months. Perhaps this trip will facilitate a comeback

9. Finding spots. I have a new spot in the downstairs of this home sitting in the wingback by the French doors, looking out to green and trees. Yup. This is it. This is the writing place. Fingers crossed the words will come.

10. This day.  A gift I shall not squander. I will go out into it and celebrate.

Just Remember This… It’s a TToT.

‘Morning. I have blown my nose, rid myself of tears. Why? Well, because I listened to the first vid. Since I was an itty bitty Girlie, I’ve felt an “affinity” for all things French. The very first time I sang the French national anthem in grade school, something stirred within me. Something on a molecular level. Past life “memory”? Who knows.

I first watched Casablanca, at my mother’s urging “you have to watch this movie…” When this scene played, when they started to sing, my body reacted. The floodgates of emotion opened and I felt something grip my soul. And so I cry every time I hear La Marseillaise. To this very day.

This is a post for Lizzi’s bloghop. The one that has survived and persisted lo these many years. If you want to get an idea about how long, just go to Clark’s post. To the 4 individuals who wrote the screenplay for one of my favorite movies of all time, Thank You.

All the people involved with that movie – did they think their creative endeavor would survive time? Did they dream that their work would go down in history as one of the best films of all time, that their words would be repeated by generations of people yet to be born? That it would affect millions of people? The longevity of works of art, of the creative mind. Perpetual inspiration, non? Thanks to the internet, there is a dearth of creative work that will go on in perpetuity. Huge thankful. Huge.

I have many thankfuls, always. Each day. The weather so far, cool but not cold,  sun… finally finding jeans that look decent on me. (well, no one has told me otherwise. but would they really? lol) And a huge thankful shoutout to a fellow clark who is blazing her clarklike trail with great success. Thank you Cynthia. She has encouraged me to write, she has always been supportive and I am thankful for her friendship.

To Val. Thank you Val! for creating the FB page, My World at the Moment.  What began as an exercise between two people was shared and the creative process was engaged. Isn’t that what it’s all about? Engaging the world? Participating. Reaching out. Experiencing the world, not reading about it, not thinking about it…To everyone who has helped me to persist in that endeavour, THANK YOU!

The past cannot be altered. We become who we are in spite of it or because of it. It is our choice.

 

It’s Not My Fault for being Late to The SSS!

How many times do I have to hear “Denise, you need to set a time limit for writing a post“.  And each time I hear that admonition (yes, it’s an admonition lol), I agree. With gusto! It makes sense. Especially when it comes to writing a 6 Sentence Story. Zoe’s bloghop does not require any more than 6 sentences. On the surface, the SSS is a seemingly, low pressure, just have some fun with it, bloghop. Except if you’re a clark who has all but stopped creative writing, writing of any sort really. Na-ah. No pressure! lol

I found a way this evening, don’t ask me how because I’m clueless, to sidestep the pressure. I engaged the world earlier and you might say that by doing so found my way to the words below. And a special hats off to a particular 10 year old who’s creative energy always makes me smile:D

Mrs. Garcia, her 5th grade students nicknamed her “Mrs. Garcia Lorca” after the famous poet and playwright, was very excited about going to work today.

She’d finally been able to get her first decent’s night sleep in over a month, as it had been that long since she first began her project, her quest, her attempt to fulfill a long neglected dream.

Elise Carolina Garcia, 5th grade English teacher, was not only a talented poet and writer, she also excelled in the fine arts and her dream, since first discovering the world of paint, pencil, charcoal and canvas was to create a work of art that would one day hang in the National Museum of Women in the Arts.

“Good morning class, how is everyone doing today? I hope you have all taken a good look at the painting I brought in this week as today it will be shipped off to the museum to be included in this month’s exhibition.”

“Um…Mrs. Garcia…..I…I’m really sorry…it was an accident, honest, I was just fooling around…it wasn’t my fault!”

 

Sleep is Under Rated. Right??

I tried to sneak up on myself tonight, you know to write a 6 Sentence Story. It’s the blog hop hosted by Zoe. Yeah, that Zoe😀  This week’s cue word is “stick

Not as easy as you think, sneaking up on yourself, so I’ve sent up a plea to the vowel gods and implored the concierge  of consonents to assist me with this, my entry for this week’s 6 Sentence Story. I mean, if the stars can occaisionally align, then why, oh why can’t the independent letters of the English alphabet align themselves into words to form a clever little story, poem, vignette….something. I mean we’re only talking 6 sentences!

It was Christmas Eve, all Currier & Ives smeared windows, picture perfect New England winter wonderland day, oh, so silent.

Slight crunching could be heard from boots trying to walk on frozen water, almost successful, treading carefully, making their way guiltily to the front door, a stick snapping in two, a precursor to events yet to unfold .

Hushed, yet not night, the sun ambled it’s way, rolling like a beach ball over the dunes towards the distant blue black horizon, to take refuge for another cycle, night following a day, always.

Life, it seemed, would never be the same, an era ending, not so much in fireworks as in the slow extinguishing of a single, solo, smoldering ember, the dying of a fire never meant to go out.

Where, when, how, do paths veer, hearts wander, intent go astray….

Christmas Day, surely was solemn as two hearts lay, torn asunder, beneath the low hanging branches of a holiday tree adorned majestically, sadly for a last time, would the star shine.

 

 

 

Ludwig Van, Stanley and Alex. Thank You 10 times over.

I have 6 minutes to write this TToT. And it’s all thanks to the PinterestPeople sending me suggested music boards. Yes, this segment, from one of the most well known of my favorite composer’s creations, was suggested. I clicked on it and at once started tapping my foot, then the keys here. Except! Except that I can not disassociate myself from Alex. From the movie, Clockwork Orange. I cannot. And I suppose it’s a shame. But I will never not love it.

Some of the other music pins were well targeted. Emmylou, Joan Armatrading, Sara Bareilles, The Kinks. All well enough, but it’s been awhile since getting pins for the “heavier” types of music I enjoy. Can’t claim to understand the Pinterest world so I’ll consider these suggestions as a gift and be thankful nonetheless.

Btw, I’ve exceeded the 6 minutes mentioned in the opening line. But that’s OK. I had considered not writing a TToT. Was contemplating it’s purpose for me lately. There’s seems to be this phenomenon going on lately, well, for rather quite some time. A reverse osmosis of words, writing, living…faucet barely dripping and I find myself wading into the flood again.

I awakened rather late this morning. 9:22 am to be exact. When have I slept that late during my adult lifetime? That’s right, cannot remember. But hey, no pressure here today. I don’t care. Tomorrow is a holiday from work and so I’m not succombing to the TaskMaster that harangues me about the “things to be done before going back to work“.  So the day is mine. This only day.

I’m up to the last 2 thankfuls. Have I saved the best for last? lol. Naah. It’s not about best, better, less, least. It’s simply about participation. About me writing words that make it out of my head. Last night, I was talking to Clark on the Saturday Night Wakefield Doctrine Drive Call in Show (gasp, out of breath with that one) and talking of the ususal and heard myself utter something like “yeah, I admire you and all the writers out there…I know from experience, the more you do of a thing the better you get at it“. What I didn’t say, was that by not doing a thing, you not only lose the advances made, you regress. Bigtime. Because you know, realize, have to acknowledge, that at one time you were moving forward, excelling at something and by ceasing that forward momentum, and thinking about beginning again, you’ve invited the well imagined, but real deterrant known as, you’ll never be able to do it again, you’ll never “re-learn” what you knew.

The last thankful is a weird one maybe. Ok, yes, weird. But only if you’re not a clark! When I finish posting this, I am going out into the world, into a day of screaming sunshine, blue sky and any possibility possible, much like the day in the video posted.  Little did I know that 2 weeks ago I would time travel lol. 2 weeks ago I was intending to write a TToT post and in that post I was going to counsel clarks to go easy on your selfs. To make errors and be “exposed” is not the worst thing in the world (the one “out there” and your own).  You will hear in this video a mistake of major proportions and yet I had every intention of posting it anyway. Except I didn’t then. But I will now. So let me leave you with a video that hasn’t taken place yet (insert winking emoji here because I don’t know how!!)

Go out into the world today. Enjoy it for what it might be, what it can be, what it needs to be. It’s yours…

See? Perfect example. If I would practice shooting/uploading videos, I’d get better at it😀

Today. Yes, Yes it is a TToT.

Where do I begin? What is the starting point? Where is the starting point. Which one? My head holds a myriad of flash intros each screaming, vying to be headliner. How do/can/will I know which one is the right one for this…this version of reality? Even as I write these words, I doubt the font type currently appearing was the same font as when I opened this post. To borrow from Calderon, is everything but a dream….

Thanks to constant interrupted sleep last night, I awakened this morning at the sound of an incoming text. I’m thankful for that as I dare not think how long I may have slept. Already, the day had been re-arranged, re-ordered for me by my body. By the intermittent leg/foot pretzels that plagued me throughout the overnight. “I am an old woman, named after my mother, my old man is another child that’s grown old”. Even now, I wander the highway of multidimensional reality. Why the hell not🙂

I will, being sleep deprived (there can be very enjoyable special effects garnered from interrupted sleep), on the verge of getting sick? attempt to put some cohesive tape on this botch job of a post…it all began….last night, as I turned out the light thinking it was going to be a typical, lay in bed, go to sleep, sleep until morning kind of night, I lay, lights out listening to youtube. The last 2 songs I listened to were Don’t Speak and Someone Like You. Neither are new songs. Neither are played on the radio here (Don’t Speak I’ve heard once or twice but not in ages). At least the stations I listen to. Driving to work, I heard both these songs. Back to back. Now you might say, what’s so weird about that? Here’s what’s weird. The brief conversation I’d had with Clark pulling away from the house 20 minutes earlier. It culminated in his statement/observation that my previous (work) timeline was reclaiming it’s self proclaimed, rightful place here on this, my new timeline. What? Whatch you talkin’ bout Willis?? And so, the briefiest discussion of the re-emergence of pattern, habit, routine. Engrained like the groove in one’s favorite record. Impervious to the switch to digital media, habits and routine cannot be erased, cannot be altered sufficiently for them not to resurface to reclaim their rightful position, steering you to those places it would have you be because, after all, we’re all where we would have ourselves be. We are living in our perfect world. (go ahead Clark. I know I could never explain it. The words are not in my brain any longer lol)

This is a jumbletron of words. Like “sitting at my desk at work at 11:45 this morning, I was overcome with an incredibly strong feeling of deja vu.” The kind where you believe you know right at that moment the next thing you had done/will do. And so I thought, is this simply a facet of timeline replication? Is it the “feeling of having done this before” or was it simple resonation of familiarity of habit?

I think perhaps the lines were bleeding one into the other today. Blending, melding, criss crossing. In a way, I hope so. Otherwise, how is it I can ever discover anything “new”? How will I keep routine, habit at bay. How will I keep my body from playing in the worn rut left by the needle that has traversed the same song for 57 years.

TTOTimelines (yes! I’m stealing that from Clark! That clever Doctrine guy who plagues me, lectures me, yet manages to keep me sane). I am participating today. Somewhere. LOL

For the Wakefield Doctrine

For last weekend. Achieving goals, spending time with my favorite small humans. We had a wonderful “nature walk” on Sunday to round out the weekend.

For increasing knowledge, little by little in my new profession.

For only getting ,my face “burned” 3 times by my dermatologist.

For the sense that I will write, will complete Annaliese’s Dream, though it’s barely begun.

For the YouTube.

For my physical stamina. It’s pretty damn good.

For not totally, completely giving up participating in the virtual world. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have read Kristi Campbell’s very fine Finish the Sentence Friday post. Check it out. Her writing. It’s good. Like damn good.

For the BOSR/SBOR. No. Not quoting a rule. Just a general thanks for it’s existence🙂

For this, another opportunity. For this, both my first and my last day.

Do you know where you are? You sure?