Welcome to Book Readers Heaven! Find Books, Reviews, Short Stories, Authors, Publicity, a little poetry, music to complement...and other stuff including politics, about life... "Books, Cats: Life is Sweet..."
"Poetry is when an emotion has found its thought and
the thought has found words."
~ Robert Frost
November is one of my favorite months because I believe in the power of gratitude. Although there might be a lot of chaos and unrest in the universe, I believe that it's important we sit still and think about all we have to be grateful for. When times get testy or dark, I can always turn to my writing to help me navigate. This is a blessing I had ever since I was a little girl when my mother gifted me my very own journal.
I'm also grateful for my ability to be creative and that my health is relatively stable. I just finished reading Rick Rubin's book, The Creative Act (reviewed below) which was a reminder of the importance of gratitude.
I also like November because of Thanksgiving and how every year our family comes together. I like it because it's not a materialistic holiday, but a holiday to remember the love we have for one another and to count all of all of our blessings. As the family matriarch, it can be a lot of hard working getting everyone together, and all the food preparation, but the work is so worth it and I never have regrets. My children are old enough to help and my grandchildren are also at the age to begin helping.
Wishing you a wonderful Thanksgiving feast, wherever and with whomever you celebrate!
I picked up this book when on holiday at Nepenthe in Big Sur. I'm not sure that I would have picked it up anywhere else, but everything in that store tends to be so inspiring. After reading it and discussing it with others, I learned how many others have already read and loved it. One comment that kept coming up is, "It's so good; it made so much sense that I could have written it!" Actually, I felt the same way. So many of Rubin's wisdoms are comfortably intuitive. If you're feeling creatively stuck or at a dead end, chances are opening this book to any page will fill you with inspiration and love for the creative process.
I ear-marked so many pages that it's difficult to highlight my favorite passages. However, just to provide a snippet, here are some of his wisdoms. Rubin and other creatives like myself are ritualistic. He wrote about a songwriter who always wrote her music in the same messy room in an old office building. He mentioned Charles Dickens who carried a compass to make sure he was always facing north when he slept (p.325). He believed that the electrical currents of the earth supported his creativity. Dr. Seuss, for example, had a bookcase with a false door hiding hundreds of unusual hats. How's that for inspiration.
How about this: Genie’s easygoing intelligence and friendly, unpretentious, graceful kindness always makes her an instant hit with the wisest, most empathetic people. And Genie is my wife, lover, and best friend.
If I’d “repented” and rejoined the fold, we could have used the well-tried model of Christian-leader-screws-up-blames-Satan-repents, then is “called” back to a GOD CASH “ministry.”
I first met Frank Schaeffer on Facebook, when I was there the First Time which lasted about 15+ years. Then I've followed him on YouTube since... His commentaries are always timely, so this latest one on Tucker would not have been known to me and many of us who do not follow "conservative news." We've learned from Fox News what that normally includes--Lies!
Shaeffer has been stead-fast, as with many others, who saw DJT as the man he was right from the beginning... I had finally found somebody who I knew I could trust... Why? because one of the first videos I listened to was his accounting of what occurred at a meeting with evangelical christians related to Trump. Yes, he and his father was there... Soon thereafter, he chose to break away from religion, while continuing to pray and recognize God as part of his life. He says it many other ways, but I saw through his protestations as a cover of his shame in what was being planned...
Since then, whenever I catch his videos, I save them as favorites automatically, knowing that there will be a time when I want to hear his opinion. I don't recall a time when, after listening to the entire video, that I have not agreed with his opinion and/or learned from it. But I never had really gotten to know Frank, the man--the man who daily lived, seemingly for his family and for speaking truth... Learning he babysat daily was an interesting "plus" for this man who had rejected religion without rejecting God's love... So, when he started talking about his latest book, which he was going to give away free on YouTube, I went ahead and bought it to start reading...
The book is written in shorts--as is his videos... Thus you can read a day's writing, or you can continue to read based upon a topic being covered. I found this was a convenient way to also keep reading other books to keep my blog readers busy. LOL It took me longer to read the entire book, but I believe breaking it down to easily come back provided an opportunity to better digest and learn from what was being said...
The basic premise is to Find the joy and happiness in your life through Love... His use of his companion, Zip, to spotlight his message was delightful, but when you read it, you will find that it is, more, a memoir, of his life with his family. Beginning with the time he was still involved with his family's "cult" as he now calls it... which, fully stated, was a "cult of male domination..."
Having never know a father, I found Frank Schaeffer's story to be a compelling one. To be able to find his true love and continue to live a life you'd learned from your family, and begin to see what really loving a woman and a family calls for, is a unique experience from a man who, late in his life, has become willing to share a story which, in my opinion, should be read by every male now alive. The contrast of what is being taught through christian nationalism is so far different that readers will immediately know that Frank is a man you can know and trust. In his family life, he may have his personal opinions, but he would never, after many years, attempt to become the dominant figure of the family--that was never intended. He shares his life with his wife as his primary soulmate we have always heard about... But many never really believed it... Read his story to learn.
His Latest Video... - Re Hate, of Any Kind...
And predictability is what my parents stripped their children of by volunteering us into an “open home” where we had to save our “guests” for Jesus, as they wandered around stoned, awake at all hours, or sometimes threatening suicide during a “bad drug trip.” An animal, be it a human animal child or a dog like Zip, who doesn’t know when the food will appear or what other animal (or mentally deranged human) will wander in, can discern no consistent schedule and so experiences constant distress. That is never what happens to Zip, let alone to my grandchildren I do childcare for, but describes my three sisters’ and my childhood in a nutshell.
Zip doesn’t read but teaches everyone around him by brilliant, generous, and kind example. If Zip could read and write, here’s what Zip might say:
There are no small moments! There is just the time you have— right now! Life is not about some “big plan!”
Your life is about how you interact with others! The “important” meeting you’ll go to is no more significant than the extra moment you spend talking to the woman delivering a package.
ALONE IS BAD! TOGETHER IS GOOD! CONNECT! Alienation and isolation, distrust and disconnection from others never end well. Bluntly: evolution wants lonely people dead. The surgeon general said so.
Surgeon General Vivek Murthy issued an urgent warning about the epidemic of loneliness and social isolation. He said “Loneliness and social isolation increase the risk for premature death by 26% and 29% respectively … lacking social connection can increase the risk for premature death as much as smoking up to 15 cigarettes a day. … Poor or insufficient social connection is associated with increased risk of disease, including a 29% increased risk of heart disease and a 32% increased risk of Stroke. Furthermore is associated with increased risk for anxiety, depression and dementia.”
These days when I hug Genie while we’re standing in the kitchen, in hallways, bedrooms, or on a walk with Zip, my arms wrapped around her tightly, my hands clasped behind her back, Genie makes the most comfortable sighing mmmm sound. This happiest of all sounds of deep contentment makes me feel deliriously joyful.
~~~
Zip leads the family in their acceptance of friendliness and joy, as, whenever the mail comes, and he hears the mail being delivered, Zip runs from wherever he is to say Hi! Barking to say hello to Elena, he will wait to have Frank open the door so they can visit! Everybody in the neighborhood knows Elena and comes out, even if they have a Trump sign in their yard. He is friendly to his neighbors and goes to the local Hispanic church, participating as a leader... It's nice to know that friendliness can override the hate of this administration...
Classical tapes play in the background of Genie's work area, or even children's stories when babysitting occurs. But, it has to be known that this couple also acquired every 1960s rock album made...
By age 6, granddaughter Nora could sing all the songs from two of the albums by the Beatles! LOL
Soon readers will begin to relax and enjoy how this family lives--together always--but in such a friendly environment that you'll begin to feel the "vibe" of living and loving... But Frank admits it took him longer to find the "bliss..."
Isolating someone from friends and family is the hallmark of a controlling abuser. In the earlier days of our marriage, Genie had to travel to visit her family and friends because I denied her the pleasure of hosting family and friends in our home. My anti-visitor phobia took longer to get over than anything else. Get over are the wrong words to describe what happened. I should rather say: I took longer to learn to behave differently. I still regard visitors as intruders. I still love a shut door. The difference is, the older version of me welcomes guests and family these days, for Genie’s sake. My coping and changing behavior was only possible when I learned to separate feelings (unreliable) from actions (measurable). I learned Genie and I did not live in my house but in our home. I learned that life with Genie was not about finding myself, but about finding ourselves. I learned that how I act could (eventually with enough brain-changing repetition) become who I am. I learned that being “happy” all the time isn’t what life is about. I learned to stop excusing my shitty behavior as a reaction to the way my parents trashed our home’s privacy and take responsibility for how I was behaving.
Now, you might question how long that actually took, so I can only say that this was on page 54 and there was still 300 pages to read... I'd say that's a statement that you can go with, especially since, I have to confess, I'm like Frank... I've always been an introvert who enjoys books behind a closed door, more than "some people..." especially right now seeing the hate and violence... Still, there is always time to keep learning... Schaeffer's admissions allow each of us to keep trying...
But there is no doubt about it, Zip has played a major part in changing the public figure of Frank Schaeffer! Cats do that for me--but then I never had a childhood like Frank had...
Why do I interrupt my writing for Zip? Maybe he fulfills a physiological need. As Jessica Pierce says, biologists have discovered physiological explanations for why we enjoy touching and being touched by our dogs. Sensory neurons are found in mammals, including in us. These neurons stimulate the release of the hormone oxytocin when we pet dogs. And oxytocin plays an important role in bonding, trust, and wound-healing. And Pierce says we shouldn’t underestimate how much can be communicated between dogs and humans. Besides holding or petting them we also communicate well with dogs. Pierce writes, “It is how somebody says the words, or when, or with what look in their eye that tells us what we really need to know. They talk with their ears, eyes, face, and body.” Dogs speak to us the same way. They know to follow a pointing finger, and they follow the direction of our gaze. They can make inferences about the reliability of the human giving the cues, responding more consistently to reliable human sources they trust. Pierce writes, “Researchers believe that dogs evolved their vocal repertoire to facilitate communication with us. And we are actually quite adept at reading their signals, too. For example, humans are good at accurately interpreting dog emotions by quality of barks.” And just as dogs follow our gaze they seem to expect us to follow theirs.[21] So I know what Zip needs, and he “reads” me too. That paw on my wrist as I type says, “SEE ME.” I like being seen too. I like Zip’s healing touch. When Zip looks up at me and I hold his gaze, he is communicating. It is not a stretch to say he is saying, I love you. And Zip has made me into a kinder person. Pierce says “a correlation between positive relationships with pets and the development of humane attitudes toward animals in general, as well as the expansion of empathy for other people.” A study found that, in preschool children, empathy for animals is correlated with empathy toward other schoolchildren. Children with strongest bonds to animals showed the highest empathy scores.[22] In our home there is no question that Zip sets a “tone” of caring. He softens the mood. Being with Zip all day puts Genie and me into a certain frame of mind that can be described as cheerful kindness.
Readers will find that Schaeffer is also well read and there will be references documenting the basis upon which he writes--including a list of footnotes in the print copy I have... Do enjoy reading this book. It's free if you wish...below... or if you wish to support this writer's ongoing commitment to helping our world be retained as a democracy... it can be found on Amazon...
Writing to keep the bills paid and a roof over my head while the reading public dwindles by the day and brains shrink watching 10 second reels on tiny little screens, and that's called entertainment.
This wasn't how I pictured growing old.
I assumed one thing,
while another thing was brewing that I didn't see coming.
I do remember having a Smith Fit during one blatant revelation,
in which I told the Good Lord I was royally pissed.
And then I realized what I'd said and laughed.
(And He Laughed Too!)
That was clearly obvious by the fit I'd just had.
It may seem strange to some of you.
Even blasphemous of me to others,
as to how I talk to God.
Don't care what you think.
In my mind, heaven is home.
God is the Father.
The Father always listens.
The Father welcomes His children home.
I have no one left on earth
to whom I would complain to.
Everyone has their own burdens.
They don't need more of someone else's.
But I have HIM.
And...He has me.
Warts and all.
Sometimes God is busy.
Help Him out now and then.
BE THE LIGHT PEOPLE
BE THE LIGHT.
I believe God Has Spoken
Through Sharon Sala
Please Spread HIS Words!
He IS Waiting!
My latest review is posted yesterday as a personal favorite...
But, please, enter her name in the right column and bring up just a few of her books I've been privileged to read (thus far)
But something more than instinct was guiding her trip...
Night was a shield for those who needed it, and kept secrets better than a best friend ever could. It protected, and at the same time, left the weak more vulnerable.
Kiamichis Mountains, Oklahoma
Adam was looking out the window, his eyes narrowing sharply as he squinted against the light. Franklin thought that Adam looked a lot like his father. Same strong face—same far-seeing expression in his eyes, but he was taller and more muscular. And he’d been beyond the Kiamichis. He’d lived a warrior’s life for the United States government. Franklin set his coffee cup aside, folded his hands in his lap, and closed his eyes. It was good that Adam Two Eagles had come home.
Within an hour after arriving back at his home, Adam began the preparations. He drank some water before going out to ready the sweat lodge. On the way down the hillside, he got work gloves from the tool shed and a small hatchet from a shelf. A sense of peace came over him as he worked, gathering wood and patching a small hole in the lodge. Tonight, he would begin the ceremony.
If Franklin and Leila had made a baby together, the Old Ones would find it. He hurried back to the house, gathering everything he needed, then walked back to the small lodge above the creek bank. He undressed with care, shedding his clothes a layer at a time. By the time he’d dropped his last garment, a slight breeze had come up, lifting his hair away from his face and cooling the sweat beading on his body. The first star of the evening was just visible when he looked up at the sky. He checked the fire. Ideally, there would be someone outside the lodge continuing to feed the fire, but not tonight. Tonight the fire that he’d already built would serve the purpose. He lifted the flap and crawled in. Within seconds, he was covered in sweat. He sat down cross-legged, letting his arms and hands rest on his knees. With a slow, even rhythm he breathed in and breathed out. Then he closed his eyes and began to chant. The words were almost as old as the land on which he sat. The hours passed and the moon that had been hanging high in the sky, was more than halfway through its slow descent to the horizon. Morning was but an hour or so away. Inside the sweat lodge, all the words had been said. All the prayers had been prayed. Adam was ready. He crawled out of the lodge. When he stood, the muscles in his legs tried to cramp, but he walked them out as he then moved behind the lodge and laid another stick of wood on the fire. With the sweat drying swiftly on his skin and his mind and body free from impurities, he reached into his pack and took out the carving, as well as the hairs he’d cut from Franklin’s head. Some might have called it a prayer—others might have said it was a chant—but the words Adam spoke were a call to the Old Ones. The rhythm of the syllables rolled off Adam’s tongue like a song.
The log he’d laid on the fire popped, sending a shower of sparks up into the air. Adam felt the prick of heat from one as it landed on his skin, but he didn’t flinch. Still wrapped in the cloak of darkness, he lifted his arms to the heavens and began to dance. Dust and ashes rose up from the ground, coating his feet and legs as he moved in and out of the shadows around the fire. He danced and he sang until his heartbeat matched the rhythm of his feet. The wind rose, whistling through the trees in a thin, constant wail, sucking the hair from the back of his neck and then swirling it about his face. They were coming. He tossed the owl and the hairs into the fire, and then lifted his hands above his head. As he did, there was what he could only describe as an absence of air. He could still breathe, but he was unable to move. The great warriors manifested themselves within the smoke, using it to coat the shapes of what they’d once been. They came mounted on spirit horses with eyes of fire. The horses stomped and reared, inhaling showers of sparks that had been following the column of smoke, and exhaling what appeared to be stars. One warrior wore a war bonnet so long that it dragged beneath the ghost horse’s feet. Another was wrapped in the skin of a bear, with the mark of the claw painted on his chest. The third horse had a black handprint on its flank, while matching handprints of white were on the old warrior’s cheeks. The last one rode naked on a horse of pure white. The wrinkles in his face were as many as the rivers of the earth. His gray hair so long that it appeared tangled in the horse’s mane and tail, making it difficult to tell where man ended and horse began. They spoke in unison, with the sounds getting lost in the whirlwind that brought them, and yet Adam knew what they’d said. They would help. As he watched, one by one, they reached into the fire and took a piece of Franklin’s essence to help them with their search.
Then, as suddenly as they’d appeared, they were gone. Adam dropped to his knees, then passed out.
~~~
It was wonderful to again connect with Sharon Sala on Facebook... I have missed interacting with my many friends there... Now, it seems so different since I essentially had to start over... I've ordered Sharon's upcoming book, but I am so happy I got Rider on Fire to start back reading her wonderful books...
This multi-genre book starts as a thriller as a DEA Agent, Sonora Jordan deals with her life as a child who was "dumped" the day after she was born... A child who never knew who she was...
DEA agent Sonora Jordan was running after a drug dealer when she fell into the twilight zone. One moment she was inches away from grabbing her perp, Enrique Garcia, and the next her gun went flying as she fell flat on her face.
The shot that would have hit her square in the back went flying over her head. Instead of the heat and dust of Mexico, she was in the shade of a forest and hearing the sound of moving water from somewhere up ahead.
She lifted her head, and as she did, she saw a tall, older man standing on the porch of a single-story dwelling that was surrounded by trees. His skin was brown, and his hair was long and peppered with gray. There was a wind chime hanging by his head that looked like a Native American dream catcher. The chimes were different shapes of feathers. It was so foreign to anything she knew, she couldn’t imagine why she would be hallucinating about it and wondered if she was dead. The man lifted his hand, and as he did, she had the strongest urge to wave back, but she couldn’t seem to move. She couldn’t see his face clearly, yet she knew that he was crying. A sad, empty feeling hit her belly and then swallowed her whole.
By the time she realized she wasn’t dead, only face down in the dirt, the vision was gone. If that wasn’t enough humiliation, her perp was nowhere in sight. “Oh crap,” she muttered, then breathed easier when she saw Agent Dave Wills coming back with the perp she’d been chasing. Garcia was handcuffed and cursing at the top of his voice.
~~~
Sonora had grown up essentially, alone, even though she had people monitoring her as an orphan... She would be placed in homes of one sort or another, but she only speaks of one particular foster mother who would lock her up every time a man came to visit... She could hear the two adults, but didn't understand what was happening... After years, she had become afraid of the dark, which has never left her, even while she had grown to become one of the best agents in her DEA section...
She was last involved with the Garcia family, a drug cartel from South America, led by the oldest living son. During the DEA raid, two brothers were taken, one of whom was killed--by Sonora. Garcia came on the hunt, immediately pledging retribution--funny, isn't it, how criminals feel that being caught should result in retribution even though they were the ones doing something illegal... In any event, DEA officials soon learned that he was now in the U.S. and told Sonora she would have to leave the area... Of course, Sonora resented this. But, on the other hand, she soon began to believe it was a good thing...
And it had to do with the vision that had occurred during the fight with the two Garcia brothers... Of course she had no where she could or should go, so she went to a world map and started drawing a line, until she felt it was time to stop... She was heading to Oklahoma...
But something more than instinct was guiding her trip...
She loaded up what she could carry on her bike--but first she had to get it back from a guy she used to date. The only thing she found out much later was that he had asked to give her a message before he died... "I didn't tell him anything..." Garcia will appear once in a while as he chases her...but I'm going to switch to the "fantastic" part of her book...
You see, Sonora was not Latino as she thought; she was Kiowa. Her father was ill with cancer and he'd asked his friend to try to find her... Adam had left his tribe and joined the U.S. Military Services, but had been drawn back to his home to take the place of his father as Healer for the area. So, of course, he knew what he had to do... Adam would need to contact the Old Ones for help!
It was Adam she first met in a nearby town and it was he who suggested he follow her to where she was meant to be... I have to say, I love supernatural stories and this one is simply fascinating... You see, Sonora has found her father, her tribe, a home, and a very, very handsome Kiowa Brave--Adam--to whom she is attracted! And the feelings are very mutual, especially since Adam had been having dreams of her, not knowing who he was dreaming of... Believe me, this romance story is easily worth the purchase!
But it gets even better... As Garcia is catching up on her... As Her newly found father is feeling the pain of the cancer... And as Sonora, who was alone all of her life, is suddenly meeting two men who will be the most important men in her life, for a special happily ever after! Don't miss this one!
Sah-nay-mah aka Snake Woman with son Andrew Domebo, in Oklahoma Territory - Kiowa - 1895
(Photographer unknown)
Snake Woman (aka Bertha Sahananah) was born on the Kiowa, Comanche, and Plains Apache Reservation at Fort Sill in Indian Territory in 1875. She married Eagle Bone Whistle (aka Charley Domebo), and their first child Andrew was born in 1895. They would raise seven more children
It was exciting to find this picture of a woman of the Kiowa Snake Clan on Facebook! It "allowed" (LOL) me to share one of the supernatural events that showed that Sonora, although alone, was never alone. For, of course, Sonora was never separated from her Clan, her Tribe... And, proof was illustrated when, at 16, Sonora went with friends for a tattoo, and was drawn to one particular picture... The one below is as close as I could find of that picture... and, yes, it was placed on Sonora's back...but much longer... WOW!
God works in mysterious ways, his wonders to perform...
I spent some time talking to my medical healthcare contact yesterday... After a little ranting--actually perhaps more than a little-- I then said, I think I've agreed to do too much... Again...
Of course, I've said that before, but I've really been trying not to allow that old "PTSD" to creep up... that brings back memories of living within job burnout from being required to become concerned about getting everything done... But I've been having "nightmares" about every night... This time, I'm going back to my first promotion out of the clerical area, where I had bosses to give work assignments... I was now on my own, after being handed materials I could use to complete the job and meet deadlines... to ensure that all of the students at WVU were sent to the right classes at the right time. Working simultaneously on 4 different semester schedules... Yes, it was a lot of work, because I was on the phone many times, most of the days, handling the present semester, while working overtime to schedule for the upcoming semester. All manually... Interacting with representatives from every single academic department...
Actually, I was enjoying myself, I loved the work and continued those feelings until years later when the Director was replaced. So, while dreaming, it really wasn't normal nightmares, it was a time when, even working long hours, was happy and exciting...
But that doesn't mean that the dreams don't reminded me that taking on more work can cause problems mentally and physically...
I have to respond to my physical needs, first...
And, of course, trying to keep up with the crap occurring at the national level--never knowing just who will be hit by the violence, harm, and loss of jobs, etc., now occurring across the land, surely adds to the constant pressure of having to check your bank account to see if your check(s) are received... You all know what I'm talking about... Rather than sharing more of that personal depression, I decided to let you hear a couple of videos of women like myself who are fed up with a political party like no other in the history of our nation! In an extremely negative way!
Some of you may have seen that a post had been snatched back due to the changes that had been made on my last post which was written by my friend and ongoing legal contributor, Harold Michael Harvey... There were long lines heading into the right column, while others were short and continued that way for many lines... What happened? All I know is that I had reached my final draft and stopped for lunch...
When I came back, on the data entry screen I found it had been moved out of compose, even though that should never happen until I publish the article... At least that was how it's been for the last 24 years I've been on Blogger... Darn it, just like during my professional career, somebody decides to change something and proceeds to do so without any type of notification. I was fuming, mortified and immediately attempted to salvage it... which was impossible to easily do...it had taken me part of two days to pull the draft together... Finally, I just quite working on it and turned off the computer. That's when I knew I had to talk to somebody.
Those who are readers and followers of my blog have seen that I have a statement up that I am no longer accepting requests for book reviews. I had promised that I would continue with a series of books, and to help a couple of other authors with whom I had been working for years. However, I ultimately began to get requests and wound up with a TBR list again...
To those individuals, I can only say that none of the discussions about a timeframe or deadline is now valid. I need to find out what happened, and ensure that what occurred will not happen again. That is not easy since, as most of you all know, NO SITE online provides routine procedure updates, announcements of changes, or any other method of communication until after the fact that damage has been done. Even then little is done to remedy the problem... I even had one writer send me an AI generated picture along with a message... I'm sorry, but there is NO WAY I will be using anything AI until I'm comfortable that there is no fake actions occurring... Nor trusting the sender. And given the state of the government and big corporations, it's not going to be soon...
For those to whom I've interacted regarding books and/or feedback of some sort, my only option is to say that, at this time, I will get to that project when I can. I will retain those activities in que or you can cancel any interaction or request... If you have not already read what happened to my eyes during an operation, then you need to do so... Every day I lose precious time trying to deal with this one change in my life...
Just knowing that our healthcare is in the hands of a government representative that even his family refused to endorse, has made me question a lot of things at this stage of my life... But I love books and I love that when I post, there are those who immediately come to read about another book...
May I be able to continue with that activity... I'll keep you posted...
.jpg)
%20(4).jpg)
