Glad you could join us for the next resplendent episode of Elliot’s Adventures. If you’re new here, you can catch up by returning tothe beginning, and reading really fast…
Side by side, Cassandra and Elliot followed the lowering sun. They laughed their way through a grassy meadow, slipping over broad ribbons of green, sharing stories of childhoods so vastly different Elliot knew they created an entirely new world by weaving their tales together. The future spread before them, a blank tapestry awaiting their design.
He was happy. Every breath was blissful proof that love was more than an ideal to dream of; it was as real as life itself, and he deserved Cassandra’s gift of eternal love just as surely as it was his destiny to bestow his unending love upon her.
Nothing would ever part them.
“Excuse me, my young friends,” a silky voice called to them from the lengthening shadows. “Might a weary Traveler trouble you for a little assistance along the Road?”
Glad you could join us for the next quirky episode of Elliot’s Adventures. If you’re new here, you can catch up by returning tothe beginning, and reading really fast…
“There’s something I must do before we leave,” Cassandra announced. “Would you mind making one stop?”
“Of course not! Just tell me which direction to go.” Elliot couldn’t believe his recent trials had led him here. There was no way he was going to mess this up.
“Just beyond the mossy knoll, and then behind the fern, you’ll see a tall stalk not quite ready to bloom. That’s where we have to go. I need to say goodbye to my mother.”
Elliot was glad Cassandra couldn’t see his face; his smile had disappeared as he bit his lips, nervous about what her mother might say. Would she think he was a cad and a bounder? Would she try to talk her daughter out of going with him? Would she take away his one chance for love? Would she ruin his life?
Around the dawning of the Age of Aquarius, the best friend of my high school years painted some rocks and gave them to me as tokens of our friendship. I still have them.
Lost Angiest (A. Granheim), over on Medium, has shared the first three days of her #LoveStonedArt Project here, here, and here. She hopes to build a human chain of love and peace and the knowledge that each of us matters.
This is our life. This is our planet. This is our responsibility.
Share love. ~ A. Granheim/Love Stoned Project/Los Angeles
You can be a human in the chain. Find an unpainted stone. Pick it up. Paint it. Leave it somewhere for someone to find it.
And if you find a painted stone, post a picture of it on Instagram and tag @love_stonedla.
Gapawa published a post today titled A Bit of Honesty. He likened himself to Sisyphus, futilely pushing a big rock up a hill only to have it roll back down for him to push back up the hill. Day after day after day. Gapawa concludes the way out is beneath oceans of fear where your dream — whatever that means to you — is carefully concealed.
“It can be reached. But you must be courageous. You must be willing to accept help. You must be strong enough to surrender. Sweet dreams…” Gapawa
I left a comment.
“If you dive into the oceans of fear often enough, you can locate the shallows of experience where you can dream awake and put down your rock.
The first time was the scariest.” Me
He asked me if I’d care to share some of my experience, and my response grew into a post. With credit to Gapawa for prodding me to put it into words, I decided it would be more polite to publish it here than to fill his space with a post-length comment.
We will combine all contributions and welcome suggestions for what to do with the resulting collaborative Poem…”The Poem Heard ‘Round the World” something that would make Gandhi, the Dalai Lama, and Martin Luther King Jr. sigh.” #PoetsForPeace
by S.T. Ranscht
ignorance, destruction, violence
the fearful band together
to contain, restrain, constrain
civilizing this Time’s
to question, create, explore
Shadows creep unnoticed from horizon
into unwary hearts that have no fear
or sense of other
or of love
Their first act shocks the world
to flurry anguish settling
to comfortable couch outrage
from the fifties
Was that the news
or just another episode
of mass shooting senseless violence reckless hate?
What can we do?
What can anybody do?
It is insane.
I see no hope.
Yes, this is a very comfortable couch.
Until it isn’t
Springs poke through
Too much anger, frustration, discontent
the hundredth monkey finally arriving
after the third act
or the fifth
Standing to make room
swallowing their fear with the blood flowing
past their homes. along their streets, in their veins
until it boils
to purify us all
Helen Espinosa’s theme for Song Lyric Sunday this week is missing someone you love. The person I miss the most is the little boy my son used to be. The little boy who kept every sparkly rock he found because it was “special”. The little boy who crawled underneath a big cardboard box, pretending it was his shell and he was a pet turtle named Secret. The little boy who used to write his mother checks for a million dollars so she’d be rich.
This week’s theme for Helen Espinosa’s Song Lyric Sunday is Breaking Up. I’m guessing most of us have played both parts, the breaker and the breakee. I know I have. It feels like I was on the losing side more often than the other way around, but when I look back, it was pretty much even.