Sleeping Giant…

harvest being 2014 060

 

…After watching the, again, somewhat recalcitrant sun-up, we decide to head back for breakfast via the cluster of, albeit haphazardly, positioned stones which we have come to call ‘the recumbents’.

This is something of a risk, as we do not yet know what the stones represent and our Companions will undoubtedly be expecting a little more than, ‘we have a vague notion based on the feel of this place that it is something although we are not quite sure what.’

However, as an example of how we work, in and with the landscape, it is accurate and will highlight the experiential approach which both we and the ancients favour.

And this we do, telling the story of the site’s gradual introduction to our consciousness and the subsequent discoveries over the course of our last few visits.

Continue reading at France & Vincent

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Daybreak ~ Di #writephoto

It was a new day.
No-one was allowed outside to embrace the dawn, to bask in the golden tendrils of the sun which snaked across the sky seeing off the night.
The sirens had gone off and in an orderly exodus they had gone to the mountain caverns.
Many had stayed behind to give the young a chance, each having been drugged unknowingly to respond immediately without fear or flight when the inevitable happened.

Continue reading at pensitivity101

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Living knowledge

blood moon 010

“Crepuscular!” He was getting desperate now, having exhausted his list of the most obscure words. His face fell as I gave him the definition. He tried another and scowled… “How do you do that?”

“I read.” The words he dangled before me, trying to catch me out, may not be common in verbal usage, but they have cropped up often enough in books to learn their meaning through meeting them in different contexts and from different angles. Except for unfamiliar technical terms, I don’t look up words when I read. It isn’t necessary to fully understand every word to experience a story… you need, instead, to enter fully into the tale and feel it as you read. Over decades of reading, you encounter words in so many phrases that your understanding of their layers of meaning evolves and eventually becomes clear.

For me, that seems the best way to expand the vocabulary. It is easy to reach for a dictionary and have some else tell you the skeletal meaning of a word, but a dictionary can only go so far. It cannot teach you about the way an individual writer used the word… or the feelings their characters were going through… the personal interpretation or emotional overlay that goes with a word when it used rather than taught.

A dictionary is a useful tool that gives a cold, clinical definition that gives you a basic sense of a word… a story makes it vivid, bringing a depth of emotion and association to the self-same word. The one teaches from someone else’s perspective, taking a consensus of meaning that allows you to learn about the word, the other allows you to learn from experience and makes it personal… and experience is always the most effective teacher.

dawn sky (1)

I watched my granddaughter learning the other day. “No!” said her Mum as the little one extended a tentative finger. “It’s hot.” The small explorer has no concept of ‘hot’. So far, she has not burned herself. She did stop though, because she does have experience of that firm ‘no’. She will undoubtedly burn her fingers one day regardless of parental vigilance… hopefully no more than it takes to understand that ‘hot’ is not good in that particular context. Yet she will also learn that a hot day means sunshine and ice cream… and that eating dinner while it is hot is also good. One day, she will grow up and learn that ‘hot’ can have a whole other connotation of which she had no idea too.

Continue reading at The Silent Eye

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Daybreak ~ Paula Light #writephoto

Streaks of gold slid over the sky, warming the night like melted butter. She tried to forget the strange happenings of yesterday, but they kept flashing through her mind like a virus on the screen.

Continue reading at Light Motifs II

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Aeons #midnighthaiku

Ancient voices speak

Whispered stories heart to heart

Heard only in silence

Aeons of remembering

As wordless inspiration

*

 

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Coming Soon

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Charming child ~ Tallis Steelyard

Reblogged from Jim Webster, aka Tallis Steelyard:

charming child

It has to be said that there is very little new under the sun. (Save of course for my work, never let it be said that I am derivative. Obviously there are many happy to follow in the rut left by better men, but for me, I seek always to push against the boundaries of our art. Still, where was I? Ah yes.) So one evening, listening to Maljie reminisce, we all nodded wisely.

She was recalling the days of her youth. As a charming child she earned reasonable money by merely being present. Should one of her older siblings invite into the family home the current object of their affections, the adorable and delightful Maljie would place herself firmly between the two, if need be wiggling into the middle of them on the chaise longue. From this position she would allow herself to be extracted, but merely on receipt of ready cash, refusing to extend credit terms.

Continue reading at Tallis Steelyard

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Eyes of Time ~ Na’ama Yehuda #writephoto

“Learn to listen,” He-Who-Runs-With-Crooked-Legs told him as they sat to whittle spears and arrows out of saplings.

The old man’s hands moved the sharp bone deftly over the yielding wood, smoothing any bumps that could confuse an arrow’s spirit and send it listening to things other than the direction intended by the hunter.

He-Whose-Smile-Fades-Fast had hands that didn’t listen. The bone slipped. The sticks broke. The tips burned instead of hardening.

Continue reading at Na’ama Yehuda

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Guest Author: Ritu Bhathal ~ Marriage Unarranged Blog Tour!

Thank you so much for being the first stop on the blog tour for my first novel, Marriage Unarranged, Sue.

It’s no secret how long it took me to get this far (twenty years, if you didn’t know), and I have documented my writing journey several times on both my blogs (so if you are interested, please check out my links below).

What I haven’t really told my prospective readers, is more about the characters, so over the course of the tour, I will be sprinkling little nuggets about various characters.

As today is Day One, I thought it would be a good start to introduce you to Aashi. Aashi is the main character in Marriage Unarranged. Though, why should I write about her? I’ll just hand the post over to her!

“Oh! Hi there! I’ve never done something like this before, so I’m not quite sure what you want me to tell you!

So, I’ll start with the basics. My name is Aashi. Aashi Gill. I’m a British Indian girl, born and bred in Birmingham. And I’m Sikh.

I’m really excited because it’s the year all my dreams are going to come true; I’m getting married! I literally can’t wait! And I have the perfect fiancé, Ravi. Everything I ever wanted in a husband. He’s good looking, has a great job, he’s got a lovely family, and he loves me.

We’ve set the date, 5th August 2000. The gurdwara is booked. The venue is booked. I’ve even got the caterers arranged.

All the family knows, even though we haven’t sent out the invitations yet. It’s one of those typical Indian things. Any whisper of a prospective wedding, and the whole tabbar, that’s family, as in the whole extended family – all six hundred of them, is aware, then they want to get involved in the engagement ceremonies and the preparations. And when the date is set, it is announced to one and all, sort of like a ‘save the date’ thing.

Actually, I don’t even have invitations yet. But I will do soon. I’m off on a shopping trip to India with my mummy-ji and big brother, Sunny, soon, where I’m getting my wedding outfit, and a whole new wardrobe, basically. It’s a thing, you see, for my family to send me to my new home with a special marital wardrobe, called a daaj. I’ve got a folder filled with pictures of all the outfits I want to get.

It’s quite helpful that my daddy-ji works in the Indian clothing business. He has a shop on Soho Road. It’s like a mini India here in Birmingham. He’s got plenty of contacts back in India, so hopefully I can get all I want, with a good discount. And even if they don’t offer one, mummy-ji is an expert at bartering.

I can’t wait, because Sunny has even managed to get us an appointment with a proper designer out there, with a view to ordering my wedding outfit from him.

And we’ll visit Chandni Chowk in New Delhi to choose my wedding cards. I know it’s a long way to go for cards, but have you seen how much invitations cost here? Especially Indian wedding cards! They’re never a simple affair. There are inserts as well as the basic invitation, that detail all the pre-wedding functions. And, what with that six-hundred-strong family I mentioned earlier, that means a lot of cards. So, it works out cheaper, and there is so much choice!

The only other thing I need to do is choose where we’re going on honeymoon, and that’s not just my choice, is it? I’ll be popping over to meet Ravi in a bit actually, to finalise the destination. Oh! Look at the time, I’m going to be late! Hopefully, I’ll meet with you all soon too. Who knows, maybe you’ll be able to attend the wedding!”

And here is an excerpt from the beginning of the book…

***

Taking a deep breath, Aashi opened the door an inch. She then flung it wide and stood there with her arm extended, and her palm turned upwards. Her eyes searched Ravi’s face. In her trembling hands lay a piece of tissue. Inside it was… a condom wrapper.

“What is this? Don’t say it, I know what it is, but why is it here?” Tears pricked her eyes.

“Babe, I can explain,” Ravi muttered. “You see, one of my mates came over the other night, and his girlfriend was with him, and well, they must have, well, you know. Don’t worry. I’ll have a word with him.”

Aashi pushed past him into the bedroom. With her whole body shaking, she sat on the bed and wiped the tears away. That’s right. Of course, Ravi wouldn’t do anything. How could I even think it? She checked for a tissue box. Aah, on the bedside table. Noticing the slightly open drawer, she absentmindedly tugged at it. Something stuck, so she went to adjust it and shut the drawer. Out of the corner of her eye, she spotted Ravi’s hand, shooting out towards her.

Too late.

She removed the empty box, which once contained three condoms, and stared at it.

Shoving Ravi away, Aashi fled down the stairs. Snatching her bag and her car keys, she rushed out of the house. She scrambled into the car; her vision blurred. She didn’t need the rear-view mirror to know her face was awash with tears.

What’s so wrong with me? She searched the tear-stained, slightly blotchy, face in the mirror. After all those long chats about the future and how important it was to save yourself for the right one. How could he do this to me? Has there been anyone else?

As she studied her face, Aashi became aware of a figure approaching the car. Ravi. Oh no you don’t! Aashi locked the car and went to start the ignition when Ravi appeared at her window.

“Please, babe, open the door. We’ve got to talk.”

“Leave me alone!” Aashi screamed. “I don’t want to see your face, EVER AGAIN!” She turned away and started the engine.

“Aashi, honey, you have to listen to me.” Strange, his voice sounds clear for someone standing outside the car. Aashi glanced to the left, and there he was, sitting beside her.

“Please, get out, before I do something I regret.” In her hurry to start the car, she somehow pressed the central locking button on her key. Typical. Even inanimate objects are betraying me now.

Marriage Unarranged

Ritu Bhathal

It all started ended with that box…

Aashi’s life was all set.

Or so she thought.

Like in the Bollywood films, Ravi would woo her, charm her family and they’d get married and live happily ever after.

But then Aashi found the empty condom box…

Putting her ex-fiancé and her innocence behind her, Aashi embarks upon an enlightening journey, to another country, where vibrant memories are created, and unforgettable friendships forged.

Old images erased, new beginnings to explore.

And how can she forget the handsome stranger she meets? A stranger who’s hiding something…


Author Bio

Ritu Bhathal was born in Birmingham in the mid-1970s to migrant parents, hailing from Kenya but with Indian origin. This colourful background has been a constant source of inspiration to her.

From childhood, she always enjoyed reading. This love of books is credited to her mother. The joy of reading spurred her on to become creative in her writing, from fiction to poetry. Winning little writing competitions at school and locally encouraged her to continue writing.

As a wife, mother, daughter, sister, and teacher, she has drawn on inspiration from many avenues to create the poems that she writes.

A qualified teacher, having studied at Kingston University, she now deals with classes of children as a sideline to her writing!

Ritu also writes a blog, www.butismileanyway.com, a mixture of life and creativity, thoughts and opinions, which was awarded first place in the Best Overall Blog Category at the 2017 Annual Bloggers Bash Awards, and Best Book Blog in 2019.

Ritu is happily married and living in Kent, with her Hubby Dearest, and two children, not forgetting the fur baby Sonu Singh.


Find and Follow Ritu

Author Website    But I Smile Anyway Blog   Amazon Author Page   Twitter    Instagram    Facebook   Pinterest    Goodreads   Flipboard    Stumbleupon
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If you are a writer, artist or photographer…If you have a poem, story or memoirs to share… If you have a book to promote, a character to introduce, an exhibition or event to publicise… If you have advice for writers, artists or bloggers…

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New Day~ Deborah #writephoto

at daybreak, hope dawns

joy of first sparrows singing

yesterday has passed

Continue reading at A Wise Woman’s Journey

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