You have been pulled back into the past by a wrecking ball slamming into your side, spilling blood as it goes along its path of the destruction of someone else’s helpfulness. But we have also been thrust into the future against our wills. The two collide as you consider the way the wooden planks meet on the floor below you before all is dust, flannel and conifers. Your life, whatever there is left of it here, is evergreen. For this reason you squeeze your eyes closed as you wait for the end to come and expect me to join you, though I do not.
You wish you could tell me that there is so much more love than you expected, still flannel and conifers but freedom under the bluest sky you’ve ever seen. Your life, whatever there will be in the future is evergreen.
I am saved by a lover, but you question what exactly I have been saved for. If he loves me, doesn’t he want me to stay out of the dark and scary nights, away from the blood and hopelessness? To wait in a lonely room and wish I could have joined you when I had the chance? Your love for me is evergreen, and the last thought I have every night before I go to sleep is how glorious it will be to walk with you beneath those skies and hold your hand, no needles falling, no clouds to bring the rain.
Completed wrimos! I’ve reached my goal of winning twelve wrimos in a row, creating an entire year of my life that I’ve dedicated to writing months, aka wrimos. For some reason, this month seemed to go very slowly and I was a little concerned about not finishing on time. But I approached it one writing session at a time and it worked out.
Next vines JuNoWriMo and I’m so happy and humbled to be on the crew this year. I’ll be handling social media for the group, so when you see more about JuNo on Twitter and Facebook, that’s me!
I wish every writer would try Juno because it’s truly unlike any other wrimo I have ever joined. Because it’s still a small group, there’s a level of intimacy and community that one simply does not find during NaNoWriMo. It’s great that it’s huge, that’s what makes it what it is. But I craved a closer relationship with my fellow writers and JuNoWriMo provides exactly that. If you would like to join me three in roughly five weeks, please go to the JuNoWriMo site and also visit JuNoWriMo’s Facebook page to learn more.
Is it just me or has the year already started to pass all too quickly? Today was the beginning of the April session of Camp NaNoWriMo, which marks a very special milestone for me. It’s my twelfth writing month, meaning I’ve spent a cumulative year participating in them! I’ll never forget my first wrimo back in November 2005. I hadn’t written anything 50,000 words long in my life and I didn’t begin to know how to approach the challenge. So I merely dove in and hoped for the best, somehow managing to surpass my goal despite starting a full week late because I wasn’t convinced that I had the courage to try! I nearly missed verifying my word count at the end because of a blizzard induced power outage. But the most important thing that occurred as a result of my first challenge was the newfound proof that I could indeed write something that long!
I didn’t participate again for several years, but when I came back to it in 2012, the goal didn’t seem much less daunting than in the first year, but I decided to start and keep going. This time, my daily quota of between 2000-3000 words became easier as the month wore on. It just kept going as more opportunities opened up, such as the relatively new Camp sessions, as well as JuNoWriMo. Each session encouraged me to try another. Before I knew it, I was counting down to the twelfth time!
As you know from my first session, it’s never too late to start, so if you’re interested, visit the Camp NaNoWriMo page and begin your writing adventures!
Today’s quote is from a devotional reading I just enjoyed this morning from Corrie ten Boom.
You never so touch the ocean of God’s love as when you forgive and love your enemies.
Corrie ten Boom
It’s hard to forgive when you’ve really been wronged, but I can guarantee you that it’s the only true path to peace. Recently I read an article by Rick Warren about forgiveness because I wanted to understand more about what it actually means. The thought that stayed with me the longest is that forgiveness isn’t saying what happened was ok or didn’t actually hurt you, but it’s giving up your right to exact vengeance because God will make all things right. We don’t need to do His job for Him, but we must leave justice to Him.
I really don’t have the gist of the tagging thing, so if you see this and want to take on the challenge, consider yourself tagged! Have a lovely day!
Thank you, Heena, so much for nominating me for the Quote Challenge! I will post a quote for three days and nominate three people each day to do the same. Here goes!
“The future belongs to those who believe in the beauty of their dreams.” Eleanor Roosevelt
Today I nominate: BlondeWriteMore, AnaSpoke and SavingSavannah.
If any of the nominees have already done the challenge or are too busy, that’s ok!
The bridge sends me into hyperspace, swinging on a rope, toes curling as I fly through the air. Sunlight filters through my hair and I can’t help but notice the expression in your eyes as you watch me purposefully fall into the water below the rope; effervescent like the dappled waves. The tension and release as I float back and forth intoxicates you until you join me in the refreshing cool. Then it’s wave after wave and their identical echoes out to the distant shore that we can barely see even on a summer afternoon.
Flickering fire lit the lamps and the open bonfire in the middle of the tribal house where the entire community gathered. A young man whose messy black hair perpetually fell into his eyes held an older model of camcorder on his shoulder, somber as he watched the people file in through the lens. It was the coldest night of the year with a thick cascade of snow falling silently from the heavens, brushing the hats and shoulders of each citizen, lingering even longer than the young man expected as the building offered little improvement in temperature from the frigid outdoors. The snow only disappeared from the privileged individuals who had earned a seat near to the central blaze, but the rest wore white flecks on their clothing, visually separating who was in control. It wasn’t something the cameraman liked to consider because his father and grandfather had taught him that every individual in a society was equal, even if they performed different tasks in the community. But they had never lived on this island in the vastness of a polar ocean. Here it was survival at its sharpest, often cutting ideals out of the equation in favor of the majority of the community still living by the time spring arrived. Each season had its own cruel beauty in a way outsiders could never imagine. No flowers pushed through topsoil to announce the arrival of a new time of year. The frost merely melted and it was possible to bury the dead from the long, dark winter with enough natural light to forego the torches until autumn. Summer was a blinding mass of sunshine and melting water, mud and mosquitos that created an entirely new risk.
The leader of the town banged a gavel on the nearest bench reserved for the elites. The meeting had begun.
Hours later, the young man shivered in his hut, wondering if he was a type of elite himself because he was equipped with the necessary electricity to power his camera. Records must be kept and the town leaders realized the logic of supplying him with what would accomplish the objective.
After plugging the camera into the power source, the man fell to sleep rather quickly, spent by the cold. As he dreamed, his lips curved into a smile as he saw the graceful and brave young woman who had defied convention and lived on a rock in the ocean, riding above the standards of the town. She lived her own life, even if only inside his imagination.