Truth, a writer’s moral obligation

“If something inside of you is real, we will probably find it interesting, and it will probably be universal. So you must risk placing real emotion at the center of your work. Write straight into the emotional center of things. Write toward vulnerability. Risk being unliked. Tell the truth as you understand it. If you’re a writer you have a moral obligation to do this. And it is a revolutionary act—truth is always subversive.”
Anne Lamott, Bird by Bird: Some Instructions on Writing and Life

 

 

(Photo via pixabay.com)

Peeking Through the Cobwebs

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“Some ideas are not born of logic and good sense. They are made of clouds and cobwebs. They sprout from nowhere and feed on excitement, sprinkled with adventure juice and the sweet flavor of the forbidden. The psyche moves from the realms of the ordinary and takes a delicate step towards the unknown. We know we shouldn’t and that is exactly why we do.”
― 
Brigid LowryGuitar Highway Rose

(Photo by Pratik Kadam via flickr.com)

Maya Angelou, your light will continue to shine

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MAYA ANGELOU

April 4, 1928 – March 28, 2014

R.I.P.

Another inspirational woman has left us too soon.  At 86, Maya Angelou was just as vibrant and brilliant as ever.

A writer, poet, singer, dancer, activist – she was so gifted. 

Her eyes were luminous, expressive and wise.

But, her voice… my goodness, what a voice. 

I will leave you with one of her most beautiful poems, Still I Rise – her words resonate with me deeply.  You can read along, as you listen to her recite the words…. in her own voice (see the video below).

Still I Rise (by Maya Angelou)

You may write me down in history
With your bitter, twisted lies,
You may tread me in the very dirt
But still, like dust, I’ll rise.

Does my sassiness upset you? 
Why are you beset with gloom? 
‘Cause I walk like I’ve got oil wells
Pumping in my living room.

Just like moons and like suns,
With the certainty of tides,
Just like hopes springing high,
Still I’ll rise.

Did you want to see me broken? 
Bowed head and lowered eyes? 
Shoulders falling down like teardrops.
Weakened by my soulful cries.

Does my haughtiness offend you? 
Don’t you take it awful hard
‘Cause I laugh like I’ve got gold mines
Diggin’ in my own back yard.

You may shoot me with your words,
You may cut me with your eyes,
You may kill me with your hatefulness,
But still, like air, I’ll rise.

Does my sexiness upset you? 
Does it come as a surprise
That I dance like I’ve got diamonds
At the meeting of my thighs? 

Out of the huts of history’s shame
I rise
Up from a past that’s rooted in pain
I rise
I’m a black ocean, leaping and wide,
Welling and swelling I bear in the tide.
Leaving behind nights of terror and fear
I rise
Into a daybreak that’s wondrously clear
I rise
Bringing the gifts that my ancestors gave,
I am the dream and the hope of the slave.
I rise
I rise
I rise. 

heatherfromthegrove’s story spotlight for today: “Oryx and Crake” by Margaret Atwood

♦ ♦ ♦

Monday, July 15 – Saturday, July 20

FICTION

@ heatherfromthegrove!

Enjoy some good summer reading.

♦ ♦ ♦


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“He doesn’t know which is worse, a past he can’t regain or a present that will destroy him if he looks at it too clearly. Then there’s the future. Sheer vertigo.”

Margaret Atwood, Oryx and Crake

The creative and gifted mind of Canadian author Margaret Atwood unleashes itself yet again in the dystopian  novel, Oryx and Crake.  Written in 2003, it is the first in a trilogy in which Atwood takes us on a speculative journey into the future.  The story begins after a plague destroys civilization. The main protagonist, Snowman (formerly “Jimmy” before the world collapsed),  struggles with surviving in a world where he may be the last living human and coping with grief (and memories) over the loss of his best friend Crake, and the beautiful, evanescent Oryx , whom they both loved and coveted.  We learn more about Jimmy and his past, through flashbacks, and are drawn into his post-apocalyptic quest for answers.  Guiding this solitary man through his journey are these human-like, green-eyed Children of Crake.  As they travel through the wilderness which was once a great city, they see hybrid creatures (wolvogs, pigoons and rakunks) roaming the forest, and we later come to realize that these cross-species are the result of genetic engineering. 

It would be remiss of me to reveal more. I don’t want to spoil the story for you. 

I have read most of Atwood’s novels and this one roped me in from the get-go, and prompted me to read the second book (in the Oryx and Crake trilogy), called The Year of the Flood. Loved it. Her third installment, MaddAddam, will be released in early September (I’ve pre-ordered it).

Dystopian fiction is not for everyone.  In fact, I was ambivalent about reading Oryx and Crake but I am glad that I did.  It propelled me into a world of “what-if’s” – told by the award-winning storyteller par excellence, Margaret Atwood.

Other novels by Margaret Atwood:

adapted into a TV movie (2007, USA) by the same name; directed by David Evans and starring Mary-Louise Parker, Shawn Doyle and Susan Lynch

** adapted into a film (1990, USA) by the same name; directed by  Volker Schlöndorff and starring Natasha Richardson, Faye Dunaway and Aidan Quinn

*** adapted into a film (1981, Canada) by the same name; directed by Claude Jutra

In addition, she has written a large body of work:  children’s books,  short fiction, poetry, anthologies, television scripts, E-books,  and non-fiction.

heatherfromthegrove’s story spotlight for today: “South of Broad” by Pat Conroy

♦ ♦ ♦

Monday, July 15 – Saturday, July 20

FICTION

@ heatherfromthegrove!

Enjoy some good summer reading.

♦ ♦ ♦

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“Nothing happens by accident. I learned this the hard way, long before I knew that the hard way was the only path to true, certain knowledge. Early in my life, I came to fear the power of strange conveyances. Though I thought I always chose the safest path. I found myself powerless to avoid the small treacheries of fate. Because I was a timid boy, I grew up fearful and knew deep in my heart the world was out to get me. Before the summer of my senior year in high school, the real life I was always meant to lead lay coiled and ready to spring in the hot Charleston days that followed.” – from South of Broad, by Pat Conroy

I became a fan of Pat Conroy after reading Beach Music in 1995. In every novel, he masterfully weaves an intricate web of tales with southern charm and lyrical description ― exploring the fragility of the human mind and soul, the searing pain of tragedy and the healing  power of unexpected joy. For Conroy, all roads lead to home.  South Carolina.  Set against the lush backdrop of Charleston, South of Broad unravels an unforgettable tale of  families haunted and broken by tragedy, their closely guarded secrets that  become exposed, and the everpresent menace of racism and class division looming beneath the surface. Conroy’s protagonist and narrator is Leopold (Leo) Bloom King, the unassuming ringleader of a group of high school outcasts who sustain each other in good times and in bad, more the latter than the former. Their stories intertwine over a period of two decades, at the end of which they face their most daunting challenge which is the ultimate test of their friendship.

South of Broad is an exquisite, eloquently written ode, both to Conroy’s beloved hometown of Charleston and to the gift of lifelong friendships born and nurtured from these southern roots.

I was enchanted from beginning to end and read the book in one sitting. If you haven’t read any Pat Conroy’s novels, I would heartily recommend this as your first taste of this very gifted storyteller.

Other books by Pat Conroy:

* adapted into a film (1991) by the same name, directed by Barbra Streisand (she also starred in it), Nick Nolte and Blythe Danner.

** adapted into a feature film (1983) by the same name, starring David Keith.

*** adapted into a film (1979) by the same name, starring Robert Duvall.

**** adapted into the 1974 feature film, titled Conrack, starring Jon Voight and then later (in 2006) adapted into a TV movie, under the book’s original title, and starring Jeff Hephner.

 

Keep That Lens Focused

Following from my May 16th blog, Maximize Your Five Senses, I will be writing (all week) about each of the five senses (and the sixth sense) and sharing with you some of the wisdom that my mother imparted to me.

This series of blogs is dedicated to her.

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“The greatest thing a human soul ever does in this world is to see something, and tell what it saw in a plain way.  Hundreds of people can talk for one who can think, but thousands can think for one who can see.  To see clearly is poetry, prophecy, and religion – all in one.”
―  John Ruskin,  Modern Painters

My mother always spoke to me with her eyes.  She was most definitely not mute, but she nevertheless  preferred to communicate via her eyes.  Oh, the conversations we used to have!  Just a glance ― grey-green eyes meeting grey-green eyes ― message sent and received.  I knew exactly what she was thinking.

She taught me how to be quiet, stay still and watch.  Observe.  Focus. Notice every detail.  See beyond the obvious. 

She taught me that a person’s eyes tell a story.  In a flash, she could tell when someone was lying or when someone was trying to hide some emotional scar.  She was able to see beneath the surface. Her eyes missed nothing. 

She taught me well.

What I know now, that I didn’t know then, is that my mother was training me to be a writer. 

With this heightened sense of sight  (a great feat for me, since I’ve been wearing  very thick eyeglasses,  since the age of two!), I observe everything keenly and then, I write.

Our sense of sight is one of the most  – if not the most – precious of the five senses.  It is so important to take care of it.  I nearly caused some serious damage to my eyes when I went through a phase where I would sleep with my contact lenses in, for days on end.   Foolish vanity.  I now wear  my eyeglasses 99% of the time.  And my lenses are perfectly focused.

When my mother was in hospice care, she – along with many of the other patients – would be wheeled into  a lounging area.  She was often confused as to where she was (and why).  Her confusion, however, did not extend to me.  She knew exactly who I was. One of my last memories of her was when I was walking down the corridor towards the lounge and, from about a hundred feet away, she spotted me instantly. Her eyes danced, as she clapped her hands with joy.  Her eyes followed me as I came closer – grey-green eyes locked onto  grey-green eyes.   We embraced and I held her small, frail body as tightly as I could, without hurting her.

That was eight years ago this week.  Not a day goes by without me remembering her expressive, mischievous eyes.  And when I look into the mirror, there they are.

Her Eyes

by VALARIE M. SHEA

Gone are the eyes that watched me grow
The eyes that were able to see into my soul
Together we climbed mountains and made it through the pain
Only to find out that someday it would be forever changed

As you’ve gotten weaker, I’ve gotten stronger
Able to take care of myself even though I didn’t want to

You’d be proud of my wit, my confidence and my charm
People say I’m just like you and I know all about your charms
The eyes are in my heart, the eyes that saw my soul
But gone are the beautiful eyes, the eyes that watched me grow

heatherfromthegrove: 7 New Year’s Revelations to Embrace the Grace Light

For those of you who have been following, reading and enjoying each of my seven New Year revelations …. Thank You. 

I would like to point out that they are not  New Year Resolutions.  I don’t make New Year Resolutions anymore.  They are my own personal revelations. Epiphanies. Discoveries.  In the past decade, I’ve faced some daunting challenges and heart-wrenching events.  I’d like to think that I’ve handled them with dignity, compassion, grace, and humor.  Always humor.  It helps take the edge off. 

So, the lessons that these “life tests” have taught me are my “revelations.”  As I move forward with my life, I will use them as my guide.  Wisdom has to be earned.  For me, it’s a work in progress.  I hope that they have inspired and even amused you. I hope that they have made you think long and hard. 

Here’s a synopsis:

Revelation No. 1:   SIMPLICITY

Revelation No. 2:   PAUSE AND TAKE NOTE!

Revelation No. 3:   SAY GOODBYE TO REGRETS 

Revelation No. 4:   TAKE THE SCENIC ROUTE ……. ALWAYS!

Revelation No. 5:   ALIGN MIND, BODY & SPIRIT

Revelation No. 6:   OPEN THE WINDOWS … AND BREATHE!!!

Revelation No. 7:   FIND YOUR PASSION AND DON’T LET GO!

So, there you have it.  I believe that 2012 will be an interesting year.  One for the history books.  I wish you all a blessed, healthy and happy New Year and may your own personal journey towards Grace Light bring you deep fulfillment and wisdom.

Cheers,

h.f.t.g.

 

Image via blogs.canoe.ca.

New Year’s Revelation No.7 of 7: Find Your Passion and Don’t Let Go

“20 years from now you will be disappointed by the things you didn’t do than by the one’s you did. So throw off the bowlines. Sail away from the safe harbor. Catch the trade winds in your sails. Explore. Dream. Discover” ~ Mark Twain

Many of us know what our passion is.  Some call it “Purpose” or “Raison d’Être.”  The seeds are — more often than not — planted in childhood.  As we grow up, “Life” sometimes gets in the way. Correction. We let it get in the way …. it doesn’t get there by itself (remember, we are each authors of our own destiny). And, if we’re wise, we rediscover it.  And when we do, the reunion is joyous. Like renewing old friendships  … or … finally getting to meet (face-to-face) a family member that we’ve never had a chance to connect with.

And then there are some who never wavered, never let go of their passion. They made it their Life.  They embraced their passion with every fibre of their being and, when they died, they died knowing that they had lived their Passion. These people are, sadly, few and far between.  The late Lorena Gale, was one of those special ones.

Most of us juggle our day-to-day lives with our Passion.  Half the time is spent at the “day job” (the one that brings home the bacon) and the other half is what we do when we go home …. namely, our Passion.  For example, the wonderful 85 year-old music legend that is Tony Bennett obviously loves what he does for a living.  But, his real passion is art.  He is an artist …. as in, painting.  When he is not singing on tour or in concert, he paints. Check out Benedetto Arts, on his site, and prepare to be amazed.

Many of my family members have a day job and, like Anthony Dominick Benedetto, go home and spend quality time doing what they really love to do.  One cousin of mine (in Malta) has a passion for painting.  He is an exceedingly talented artist. Another cousin (in Canada) is a brilliant – and I mean brilliantphotographer.  In his own words, “It’s what I love to do.” 

It’s as simple as that. Do what you love to do and you will live a happy life. People will be drawn to you.  It’s the law of attraction.  You send out positive energy and you receive it back …. in spades.

I’ve always been a Writer. But, like many, I have always had “day jobs.”  I was a marketing communications professional for about 25 years. The first five years were in junior and mid-management,  the next 5 in senior management, and the following 15 as a consultant.

And then, one day (in the autumn of 2009) I woke up and realized that I had just turned 50.  I decided, then and there, that I would — as Mark Twain suggested — “sail away from  the safe harbor.” 

Fyi …. I can’t swim (well, I can tread water).

So, I decided to follow my passion — full-time. Of course, this meant that I would have to have a lifestyle adjustment. There would be no Louis Vuitton luggage in my immediate future. It meant I would have to forego Macallan 25 for Macallan 12. Scotch, that is. 12 year-old versus the rich-yet-smooth 25 year-old scotch. Oh woe is me.

Ahhhhh, the sacrifices I would have to make!

And, the reward for all this?  Here’s the thing. When we follow our bliss, we shouldn’t focus on quantifying it. The reward is not necessarily monetary (although, that certainly doesn’t hurt!). The reward is happiness, serenity, and knowledge. As we seek to master our craft — whatever that craft may be — we acquire knowledge.  With that knowledge, comes wisdom.

I can truly say — without reservation — that I am the happiest I have ever been.  I live simply. I love deeply. And I write.

May you all find your passion (if you haven’t already done so), and may it bring you great joy — always and forever.

Cheers,

h.f.t.g.

 

Image via womenonthefence.com.