Today A Light Has Dawned.

Today a light dawns. This day like most days in the Pacific Northwest cloudy, gray and wet, but it is different. Something has changed in a subtle and substantive manner. Undefinable yet ever present, awaiting its richness to be discovered. Everything remains the same without but within a new season is knocking. Lightness moves in dissipating the weight, his burden chased away by this new beginning. Appearing, shinning, signifying a new paradigm. Things will be different. Unsure how this will take place, but that is not the spark to ignite this fire. Belief is the spark and faith is the wind fanning the flames. For him this is the treasure he has sought to uncover.

His tomorrow will not be the same. A new life, it that is what it could be called. It seems rather to be a righting of the ship, leaving the wilderness and finding the path again. The wilderness, although a terrible destination, but useful. A dusty, desolate place, a wanders domain. One of searching or ignoring. For him it has been the place of searching. Although he has blocked his passage and yet perseverance has opened the door. That attribute enlisted to remove the barricade blocking the door. Fear, selfishness, pride, an unyielding attitude all stones laid before the door sealing of the entrance. A door of priceless value. Behind it treasures. Gems, valuable metals, stones all hidden. His need to uncover and discover the understanding, knowledge and wisdom contained in those treasures.

His constant seeking of the ancient ways. Those tools that have endured times passage, its trials, testings and proven righteous. He has been found. The lighting of the spark that will ignite the embers lain dormant for many days, years even. It is not a matter of when they are found, but one of finding. Sooner or latter would have been better, what does that matter, these things are irrelevant, discovery is the significant reward. Those other throw one of the track. Time is neutral so do not fall into the trap of using it as an instrument for judgment in this instance. Focus on discovery and all that it offers. For it is full of delights and rewards. He hears these things coming from within, rising, whispering to his hearing.

He awaits expectantly for the what the day holds and all the days hereafter. That spark burning within its heat increasing and light shinning, illuminating his house. Heat replacing the cold in his abode. Warmth and comfort his new residents. He opens all the doors he can find. There are still more he is certain of, not relenting his quest to uncover all that is hidden. One thing is certain nothing will be as it was. Those things he has been shown will be brought forth. He anticipates there arrival.

That is the beauty of this journey, it is dependent on not seeing but believing. He has not seen these promises but he has been shown them. In those moments confidence and assurance have been established. With those a path revealed, following its route, leading to this day. This is the day. Promises will be fulfilled.

Dark Storms

An indescribable force is moving, whistling by the house, shaking its foundations. All inhabitants lying within caused to scurry, seeking cover from the debris that is likely to follow. A terrible storm is brewing. This is a night for horrors.
On the horizon dark, menacing clouds roll into view. Giant pillows billowing, changing their size and shape. Feathers will not fall this night instead destruction. A force of unimaginable proportions. Ominous wraiths floating in unhindered by the flat, barren terrain. As fast as the eye can depict the monsters they draw even nearer, traveling at unfathomable speed, aided by unseen engines realization dawns. Not enough time to prepare for the frightened residents. Wide eyes behold one another, then... response, into action they leap,  fumbling about for windows, stumbling to reach doors,  panicked hands shutting and locking both. Gathering everyone together for comfort and protection. Then the assailant strikes.

The dark, depressing, uninvited phantoms arrive. Invisible to all without, but within stealthy and deadly attacker. They have come to uproot this abode. To rip it apart. From the peak of the roof to the root of  its foundations, in hopes of destroying all. Their weapon of choice words and thoughts. Dark and menacing arrows. Their weapons honed by ages of use, they aim to tickle the fancy of those within hearing. Knocking at the door spewing tones of peace to gain invitation. Knowing that without permission there is no entry. Upon hearing faint thumping on the floor within, they continue the assault assured that it is not falling on deaf ears. Releasing the arrows of delight with subtle precision. Unhurried, they press the attack against the dwellers. As the thumping draws near they understand the frail status of this invasion. Any untimely, misfired, inaccurate missile at this juncture would be disastrous. Steady and surety their course of action. Silently anticipating their victory. Then the chain slides from it holster; the click signaling the lock turning with its release and the knob turns, the dwellers have been listening. A smile arises as glee fills them, the mark has been hit.

The door to the heart has been opened. Access gained. They will flood this domain with all the vile and poison at their disposal. For this is their nature. The have come to thieve, annihilate and sabotage. Torture, lies, illusion tools of the trade. They have been doing this since the exile from paradise. They have perfected their crooked and devious methods. Taking great delight in misery. Ultimately causing their victims deviation from a path of destiny to elusive illusions. These ghosts vanish, slipping through the fingers of their pawns. The goal, to birth unbelief, hopelessness, misfortune. The residents relocated to dwell in the valley of mud and clay.
Unbeknownst to these trespassers a watchman awaits. Down deep, below the surface hidden in the bellows reserved for such instances. Consuming fire. Threaded, imbued by heat purifying the integrity in this abode. A blacksmith resides complete with a forge. Invited long ago to prevent invasions. Signing a life time contract to utilize his unique techniques. For the implementation of the agreement the residents unquestionable yielding to promptings from the blacksmith.

Lights flashing, sirens alerting, thudding penetrating sending their echos to the ears of violators. Stooping dead in their tracks, recognition flooding their memory banks fear rises within. Turning their heads seeking out the direction of the sounds. Hands frantically rising and dropping as their eyes bulge from their sockets. They know who is coming. The familiar security measures signify the blacksmiths approach. Making haste in retracing their steps, they want nothing to do with him yet. This is not the appointed time for sentencing.

Illuminating

I have been learning a few things as I write. One that writing is healing. Two, spending time reading other authors has become a teacher in itself. Three, wow, my skills and vocabulary are lacking to say the least. Was kinda ready for that. And another revelation uncovered has been a parallel drawn on from golf. Some where anticipated, others not so.

This power writing is displaying in revealing myself, is illuminating. I did not know that it held such insightful capability. It's tearing away layers that I have not discovered and ones that I have placed myself as if my heart were an onion. This welcomed discover I was unaware would take place. I am not complaining, don't get me wrong. It is a dimension unwrapped by just writing. Just strange and healing. Revolutionary to my soul.

I really started reading habitually in my mid-twenty's. A friend of mine gave me a book Sword of Shannara by Terry Brooks. It is the igniting factor birthing my increased reading. Since then I have read a ton of books. I must say my favorite to date The Historian by Elizabeth Kostova. The manner in which she brought to life the relationships formed in the weaving of the story. Captured me.If it has not dawned I pretty much read fiction. The biggest adjustment while reading has been limiting my immersion in the story. It is hard to discern the skills used by authors when I am unable to resist page turning. Slowing down and paying attention to the details has shown me much. Theme, dialogue, character intro and development are a few of the techniques I have discovered. Nice to have a silent teacher. First for that.

I spent little time when I was in school on writing, even reading for that matter. I was interested in sports and that was it. Nothing else really mattered. Since a light has dawned in my heart for writing I have found how valuable all that previous stuff really was. My loss. Anyhow, undaunted I press on. I will learn, write down the words I am unsure of and look them up latter. I have constructed a document/file for words and enlist them into action. While finances are tight I just write, no conferences or classes. Just write. A daily journal and WIP.

As I mentioned earlier about sports. I love golf. It is difficult and embarrassing sport. But it has significance for me in self discovery as well. One of the things I have been shown by trial and error in hours of practice, utilized is to relax. Just as in a golf swing tension is the enemy so to in writing. Although manifested differently but its outcome revealed the same. Doubt plays a role in both too. Visualization is a key. See the shot, see the story. So when those fragments of thought come calling I write them down and take a ride with them. Little short clips or movies of imagination play forth on my minds screen. Pretty cool. Better late than never. Its rewards are addicting.

May your light dawn, following its glow and taking its ride.