COMING IN ON FLIGHT 79

From Linda Lee Greene, Author/Artist

 

COMING IN ON FLIGHT 79...“You know what the trouble is, don’t you?” the man in the aisle seat in my row said to me. My head on its stiff neck cranked in his direction, an enquiring eyebrow lifted in irritation. It had been my habit over the years to avoid airplane conversations. I used such occasions to let loose full-bore my intrinsic reserve. “It’s all that heavy baggage stuffed top to bottom in the hold,” the man went on to explain. “You’d think that people would learn by now that if they want an easier takeoff and a smoother flight, they’d pack lighter than before. Seventy-nine of these flights and nobody seems to have learned that lesson—nobody but me that is. This is the extent of my gear,” he said as he placed a small leather pouch no larger than his open hand on the empty seat between us.

            “Cheeky fellow,” I said to myself and then turned my face back to the window. All of a sudden, fuming, black clouds split open and barraged the airplane with a torrent of rain. The vessel rose and dropped, rose and dropped like a rollercoaster car. My knuckles white on the armrests, I nearly lost my breakfast. I stole a glance at my seat companion and was astonished at his utter composure. His hands folded softly in his lap and eyes closed, his chest expanded and contracted in gentle, easy breaths. It appeared that his experience of our journey was the opposite of mine.

 

 

            Moments that seemed an eternity passed by and the plane leveled and found its balance for a while. I thought it expedient to discover the source of the man’s serenity. “What’s your destination?” I inquired.

            “As far as the plane will take me,” was his reply. “Further along than last year,” he added.

            “I never seem to get very far at all from my starting point,” I admitted.  “There have been trips where I even went backwards.”

            “Same here,” he confessed.

            “What’s different this trip?” I asked.

            “I had a dream. I take messages in dreams to heart. In the dream, a voice told me flat out that I had to lighten my load if I expect to ever get where I’m supposed to go, and especially to get off the ground for my very last trip, which the voice told me is still far in the future. So I started unloading my enormous suitcase.”

            “Unloading it of what?”

“The voice told me to begin by dumping outworn regrets and then pointless guilt; childish resentments and envies and jealousies and grudges; unspoken apologies; unattended amends, and pernicious unforgiveness. Getting rid of those things alone would lighten the load a whole lot. But that wasn’t enough—not nearly enough. There is this thing called ‘yearning,’ that wistful longing for things that will never be. Do you know what I mean?”

“Do I ever?!” I answered. I pushed back into my seat, closed my eyes and thought about all my companion had said. Without a doubt, unforgiveness would continue to stick to me like glue. And must I accept that I will never live in that villa-of-my-dreams in Tuscany; that I will never know if so-and-s0 really loved me; that I will never be sure that my children will be okay without me? Hardest of all will be to give up agonizing over those unfinished things: the paintings I will leave undone; the poems, essays, blog posts, and books I won’t complete.  

If I rid myself of all those things, I guess my suitcase will be pretty empty—probably not entirely empty, because I’m quite sure nobody gets out completely clear and clean. But maybe I can get it down to a small pouch like my companion’s. If I keep chiseling away so that by the end of this spiritual journey known as ‘my life,’ maybe, just maybe I will be as weightless as a butterfly, and who knows how wonderful my final flight will be and where it will take me?

“Happy 79!” my companion said to me.

“How does he know I’m 79?” I asked myself. Just before I drifted off to sleep, I remembered that nobody boarded Flight 79 any other way. Outside the window, the storm raged again and I was no longer afraid.© 

 

***

GARDEN OF THE SPIRITS OF THE POTS

A Spiritual Odyssey

Readers were introduced to American Nicholas Plato in multi-award-winning author Linda Lee Greene’s A CHANCE AT THE MOON, which is available for purchase at https://tinyurl.com/3dc75u6p. In GARDEN OF THE SPIRITS OF THE POTS, A Spiritual Odyssey, Nicholas boards a plane for Sydney, Australia with bags that are stuffed full of anger and heartbreak and other life-defeating issues. Little does he know that he is arriving at the time and place to empty his baggage, and to risk himself to love.

A blend of visionary and inspirational fiction with a touch of romance, this is a tale of Nicholas’ journey into parts unknown, both within his adopted home and himself, a quest that in the end leads him to his true purpose for living.

GARDEN OF THE SPIRITS OF THE POTS is available in eBook and/or paperback. Just click the following link/URL and it will take you straight to the page on Amazon on which you can purchase it.

 

https://www.amazon.com/GARDEN-SPIRITS-POTS-SPIRITUAL-ODYSSEY-ebook/dp/B09JM7YL6F/

 

#SpiritualOdyssey, #SpiritualJourney, #InspirationalFiction, #VisionaryFiction, #Romance, #Australia, #Butterflies, #AChanceattheMoon, #GardenoftheSpiritsofthePots, #AwardWinningArtist, #AwardWinningAuthor, #LindaLeeGreene,

SILVER IS BETTER

 

From Linda Lee Greene Author/Artist

SILVER IS BETTER...The lockdown through the Covid-19 spring and summer of 2020 brought about a tipping point for me and for slews of other first-world women who couldn’t get to their hairdresser for a color touchup. As a consequence, we joined the esteemed silver sisterhood—that group of senior women of every station in life comprised in part of some of my best girlfriends as well as of prominent women such as actors Diane Keaton (76), Helen Mirren (77), Glenn Close (75), Judi Dench (87), and others of their ilk—elder females who have ditched the dye and embraced their natural silver-white hair, and who show up as fabulous, confident, strong, and proud. Like me, I imagine that members of the silver sisterhood had to weigh the consequences and in the end, come to terms with the fact that going natural presents us as “older.” But I’m optimistic that more and more women will find the grace to accept with gratitude that “older” is the price we willingly pay for living, and in that vein, decide that silver is better.   

In our personal orbit, in stores, in church, and elsewhere, we see women in their late senior years not quite pulling off the “look” of the acceptable, cultural expression of everlastingly youthful womankind. It’s a false role fashioned for females by outside forces—one that must be recognized and escaped if women are to forge ahead more powerfully and authentically to their rightful place in the world. What’s more, if their rate of hair growth is like mine, their silver roots need a touch-up about every three days. “No thanks!” I say. “I have much more useful things to do with my time—with my much more precious time now that it is unfolding in my seventh decade.”

            According to family-dynamics expert Antonio Ferreira, “a certain amount of insightlessness” is required to keep any classification of humanity in a state of unawareness about its true nature and needs. A common manifestation is poor rather than wise life choices. The dictionary defines insight as: “the capacity to gain an accurate and deep intuitive understanding of a person or thing.” Some modern-day psychiatrists believe that lack of insight is a medically-based condition. Of course, chemical imbalances of the brain can manifest in an array of behavioral anomalies, but I think it’s shortsighted of the psychiatric community to overlook the role that culture plays in the phenomenon. I take the view that it’s just as often a culturally-based condition treatable through validation of the intrinsic worth of individuals regardless of classification and stage in the lifecycle. It seems obvious to me that over time, the absence of such validation can masquerade as a medically-based disorder.

“Doctor, doctor, fix her with a pill and a jab!” “Mad man, mad man, gaslight her with a new feminine hygiene product and a 24-hour lipstick!” “Leader, leader, grant her the right to vote but no seat at the table!” “Mirror, mirror, let her see black instead of silver in her hair!” I read about a hip young hairstylist saying to a senior client who took her advice and ditched the hair dye in favor of going natural, “Trust me. You will look better. It’s who you are, so be you. Be proud.”^[1]

I say, be proud of every loss and every gain, of breaking free of nonsensical expectations and coming out on the other side a lovingly authentic person. Take it from this fiercely imperfect but ever striving old gal: silver in the hair is the better badge of courage and achievement for those who are lucky enough to reach that milestone.©

 

Image: THE CAPLINGER SIBLINGS, watercolor painting by Linda Lee Greene

~

In author Linda Lee Greene’s GARDEN OF THE SPIRITS OF THE POTS, Nicholas Plato flees his troubles in the USA and forges a new life in Australia. But his troubles hitch a ride right alongside him, and forces in the land Downunder bring him face to face with them and eventually reveal to him his true destiny.

GARDEN OF THE SPIRITS OF THE POTS is available in eBook and/or paperback. Just click the following blue link and it will take you straight to the page on Amazon on which you can purchase the book. https://tinyurl.com/dw6zbhbv

 

#SilverSisterhood, #DianeKeaton, #HelenMirren, #GlennClose, #JudiDench, #Cher, #AntonioFerreira. #TheEthel, #CandySagon, #LindaLeeGreene, #GardenOfTheSpiritsOfThePots, #Books, #eBooks

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[1] The Ethel aarp@email.aarp.org “How to Go Gray the Right Way”, from Candy Sagon

 

“TIME & AGAIN” BY STELLA MAY

 

MARK YOUR CALENDAR!

“TIME & AGAIN” BY STELLA MAY IS SCHEDULED FOR RELEASE ON AUGUST 25^TH

^{IT’S AVAILABLE FOR PRE-ORDER NOW}

Time travel fans have been waiting eagerly for Time & Again, Book 2 in the Upon a Time series by Stella May. Here's a little to intrigue you on May's latest romantic fiction.

                                                                                       

After months of working like a woman possessed, Nika Morris kept her promise. Coleman House is finished. It’s gorgeous. Spectacular. Brilliant.

It’s breaking her heart.

Because once the new owners move in, she’ll be cut off from the time portal to 1909, where she met and fell in love with Eli Coleman. Now stranded in her own time, she’s waited months for the key to reappear in its hiding place. Only it hasn’t. Which means Eli must have believed the terrible things she was accused of.

Back in 1909, Eli is stunned at his best friend’s deathbed confession of a shocking betrayal. Nika—his Daisy, his time-traveling wonder—was innocent. Once he finds the key, he wastes no time stepping through the portal, determined to make things right.

But the moment Eli stumbles into her shiny, noisy, confusing future, he realizes reconciliation won’t be simple. There is more than one emotional bridge to rebuild before he and Nika can return to the time their love was born—and live their destiny out to the fullest.

This book releases August 25, 2022 in both paperback and e-book. In a hurry to get your copy? Pre-order the e-book on Amazon. 

 

 

 

Talented author Stella May is the penname of Marina Sardarova. Her personal history is a fascinating read that is featured on her website. 

 

Stella writes fantasy romance as well as time travel romance. She is the author of 'Till Time Do Us Part, Book 1 in her Upon a Time series, and the stand-alone book Rhapsody in Dreams. Love and family are two cornerstones of her stories and life. Stella’s books are available in e-book and paperback through all major vendors.

 

When not writing, Stella enjoys classical music, reading, and long walks along the ocean. She lives in Jacksonville, Florida with her husband Leo of 35 years and their son George. They are her two best friends and are all partners in their family business.

 

Follow Stella on her website and blog Stay connected on Facebook, Twitter, and Pinterest.

THE STRAYS - A Love Story

 

THE STRAYS

 A Love Story

 From Linda Lee Greene Author/Artist

Shirley hides behind her mother’s leg in family photos; Sam hangs back on the playground; nobody sits next to Shirley on the school bus; Shirley is the last one chosen for the girl’s volley ball team; Sam sits alone in the school cafeteria; nobody asks Shirley to the prom; no friend ever visits Sam in his dorm room; Sam’s grandfather forgets Sam’s name at the family reunion; Shirley isn’t invited to her classmate’s parties; Shirley marries a known jerk because nobody else is interested; Shirley is “dropped” from the daily interoffice email; Shirley eats lunch alone; Sam goes to the movies alone; Sam gets stoodup on his first and only date; Sam is 29 and still living at his parent’s home; Sam sits in “his” recliner between his mom’s and his dad’s and they watch Turner Classic Movies; the “jerk” leaves Shirley for a younger woman; Shirley sleeps on “her” side of the bed and hugs her pillow; Shirley’s children never call; Sam waits in the car outside his dad’s barber, and again at his mother’s hairdresser; Sam takes his orphan nephew fishing; Shirley adopts a little dog and names her “Gracie”; Shirley still has her first Barbie Doll; Sam’s beer stein collection covers every table top and shelf in his parent’s house; Shirley puts out food and water for feral cats; Sam takes them in; Shirley gets a flat tire and pulls to the side of the road; Sam stops and removes the flat and installs the spare; Shirley gives him her phone number; Sam calls; Shirley answers; Sam moves his beer steins and recliner to her house; Sam buys Shirley a matching recliner; side-by-side, they watch Turner Classic Movies every night; Gracie and the cats curl up together on their big round rug.©

#FeralCats, #SchoolProm, #TurnerClassicMovies, #TCM, #AdoptAPet, #BarbieDoll, #IAmWriting, #LindaLeeGreene, #GardenOfTheSpiritsOfThePots, #Books, eBooks

 

***

In author Linda Lee Greene’s GARDEN OF THE SPIRITS OF THE POTS, Nicholas Plato flees his troubles in the USA and forges a new life in Australia. But his troubles hitch a ride right alongside him, and forces in the land Downunder bring him face to face with them and eventually reveal to him his true destiny.

GARDEN OF THE SPIRITS OF THE POTS is available in eBook and/or paperback. Just click the following blue link and it will take you straight to the page on Amazon on which you can purchase the book. https://tinyurl.com/dw6zbhbv 

 

SPUNK - NEVER LOSE IT

 

SPUNK - NEVER LOSE IT

From Alicia Joseph 

Wrinkles cover her thin-skinned ninety-two-pound body, compliments from her eighty-seven years of living in this, at times, tumultuous world.  But she's as easygoing as they come, mostly unbothered by external noise. 

She's a headstrong, entirely capable, and stubborn woman. I love all of those qualities about her.  She minds her own business and lives the way she wants. She talks to me in her beautiful Irish accent. She was born on a farm in Ireland. She rode a horse to school with a trap in the back where kids hitched rides on the way. She misses the horses. The farm had rabbits and dogs and pigs, but she loved the horses the most. 

A couple years ago, her son privately talked to her doctor to persuade the doctor to tell her she couldn't drive anymore. One day she joined me for a walk with my dog Phil and she had a disgruntled look on her face. I asked what was wrong. 

"I know my son told my doctor to tell me I can't drive anymore. I'm not stupid." She looked up at me with her thin lips pressed bitterly against each other and her short brown hair swaying in the breeze. "But I do what I want. He's not the boss of me." 

Later that day I was sitting on my front lawn with Phil and her garage door opened. Seconds later, a blue van backed out of the garage and down the driveway. She pulled into the street and gave me a wave from behind the wheel as she passed. 

She'd found her keys. She's determined like that. 

Another day I was walking Phil past her house, and she was in the garage pounding out a dent in her car. I asked her what happened. She said she hit something in the garage but had to hurry because her son would be over soon. I asked if she needed help, she answered, "No, just don't tell my son."  

That made me smile. Most everything about that special woman makes me smile. I wish to be more like her. I was down one day and told her about it. She told me she doesn't think about thoughts that bring her down. I imagine that isn't something she just started doing in her later years. I'm sure she lived by that adage even when she was younger and raising six children. She talks of her past without regret or resentment. She had a hardworking husband, (whom she also tells me wasn't the boss of her) but times weren't always easy, especially the early days in Ireland when work was hard to find or when one of her children took their own life. 

None of her pains from the past show on her face now. At least none that I can see, though it doesn't mean it isn't there. She chooses to live as happily as she can. Not many people make that choice. Some live bitterly and filled with anger. When my nieces and nephews were young, they'd come over and play in the street. Naturally, they'd make a lot of noise. She'd always come outside, not to yell about all the racket, but to sit on her front porch and watch the kids play because she loved to hear the sound of children's laughter. 

Margaret lives across the street from me, and she loves to sit at her front window with her cat. No matter how bad of a day I may be having, when I see her face at the window I always smile because she waves at me with such excitement, huge smile and arm waving fast and high, as though she'd been waiting all day to see me. I will miss that when the day comes where she is no longer at the window. Hopefully that won't be for a while.

Margaret came over a couple days ago to tell us she and her son and daughters are going to England but won't be stopping in Ireland. She doesn't have much family there anymore and doesn't want to impose on the ones still there. We sat and got to talking and she shared with me how happy she is that we are neighbors. She went on about how comforting and safe she feels that we are right across the street from her. Margaret doesn't live alone. She has her daughter, and her son stops by almost every day, yet still she appreciates that we are neighbors. 

That meant something to me, and I hope she knows how much I appreciate that we are neighbors, too.

Here is a glimpse into one of my books. I hope you enjoy it. 

“When a train runs over a penny, the penny changes form, but it can still be a penny if I want it to be. Or, I can make it be something else.”

Lyssa and her best friend Abbey discover a hideout near the train tracks and spend the summer before sixth grade hanging out and finding freedom from issues at home. Their childhood innocence shatters when the hideout becomes the scene of a tragic death.

As they’re about to graduate from high school, Abbey’s family life spirals out of control while Lyssa is feeling guilty for deceiving Abbey about her sexuality.

After another tragic loss, Lyssa finds out that a penny on the track is sometimes a huge price to pay for the truth.

AMAZON BUY LINKS

KINDLE - PAPERBACK

 

 Alicia Joseph grew up in Westchester, Illinois. She has many works-in-progress that she hopes to finish soon. Life permitting.

When she is not writing, Alicia enjoys volunteering with animals, rooting for her favorite sports teams, and playing “awesome aunt” to her nine nieces and nephews.

Learn more about Alicia Joseph on her blog. Stay connected on Facebook and Twitter.

 

“OH BROTHER, WHERE ART THOU?”

 

“OH BROTHER, WHERE ART THOU?” How often I have spoken those words since my brother took his last breath. How often when a childhood memory or family event hide deep and hazy in my memory, I say in my mind or even out loud, “If I could ask David, he could tell me”. David’s mind was like the Venus Flytrap of the plant world: sensitive, efficient, lightning-fast, and possessing an intuitive sense of that which was worthy of consumption.

          Given that we have gotten beyond family dysfunction, competition, rivalry, and envy that are so often aspects of sibling relationships, our brothers and sisters can represent a safety net for us and companionship, especially in our younger and then in our older years. Often our siblings provide us with the most ardent and reliable emotional support.

The eldest female in a family of eight children, our mother spent her childhood and teen years attending to her younger siblings while her mother saw to her exhaustive duties on their farm. Married at nineteen, and giving birth to me eleven months later, our mother was already worn out from child-rearing. I was a fussy, colicy baby, and when David was born twenty months later, a calm and agreeable baby, he was the influence that helped our mother to settle into her role.

I looked upon David as my co-biographer, because we were together during all our childhood and much of our time beyond. How I miss his particular insights into our past—his verification of our history.© - From Linda Lee Greene Author/Artist

 

 

      

WHAT A FRIEND I HAD IN KIM

 

I apologize for the sideways view of the photo of Kim. I cannot get it to right itself. -Linda Lee Greene

WHAT A FRIEND I HAD IN KIM … “Although I am a typical loner in daily life, my consciousness of belonging to the invisible community of those who strive for truth, beauty, and justice has preserved me from feeling isolated.” –Albert Einstein

            In the above statement, Einstein could have been speaking for me as well as for himself. He could also have been speaking for my friend Kim Mutch Emerson. My friendship with Kim began ten years ago when, by way of a referral from a mutual contact, I hired Kim to act as the publicist for GUARDIANS AND OTHER ANGELS, my first novel as a standalone author. In her typical way, Kim took me under her wing and taught me all I was capable of retaining at the time about book marketing as an independently published author. It was hard going at first because I balked against promoting myself in such a way. “But Kim, I’m no good at talking about myself,” I whined to her. “Well, girlfriend, if you want to get anyplace in this business, you have to get over that particular fear,” she replied. She steered me to Facebook, showed me how to create a page as well as how to use the social media site. She was my first Facebook friend and encouraged her Facebook friends to take me in as part of their circle.

            Kim was a self-described empath. Chiefly used in science-fiction stories, an empath is described as a person with the paranormal ability to comprehend the mental or emotional state of another individual. ‘Paranormal’ is explained as something beyond the scope of normal scientific understanding. But it isn’t beyond the scope of my understanding, nor was it beyond Kim’s understanding. In addition, the word ‘comprehend’ as used in this definition of an ‘empath’ relegates it to an activity of the brain, of thinking, and it comes across to me as inadequate. I have no doubt that Kim would agree with me that to be an empath involves the heart as well as the brain, a heart that allows one to ‘feel’ the mental and emotional state of another individual, and even of a collective of human beings, and even of the world. Kim was a deeply religious person while still wrestling publicly and privately with the alarming state of the world—and now that she has taken on the mantle of pure spirit, I believe she has embarked on the next way, the best way for her to help in the effort to lead humanity out of its current version of the Dark Ages and back into the light of truth, beauty, and justice once more?© -Linda Lee Greene Author/Artist

 

#KimMutchEmerson, #DigitusRising