Rediscovering the Inner Light

Since January, I’ve felt a dimming of energy that guides my writing journey. While I could blame this darkening on the chaos enveloping the world for the past 18 months, I won’t. In truth, while I see the horrible corruption of governments, including our miserable excuses for politicians, our health care system, and government-owned and Liberal-dictated media, it’s not what influences my energy the most. I understand these identities to be monsters and as such not to be trusted. And I move on, not letting them affect my inner spirit.

I could also blame this darkening on the mammoth amount of work I’ve been doing that drags me away from the computer and writing. Often, by the time I sit in front of the screen at night, I’m too tired to write and since my mind has been elsewhere all day, my genius in the wall doesn’t share his stories.

I find myself once again at a crossroad: do I battle to return to my writing journey, or do I abandon it for another journey?

It was time to seek advice from a source I trusted. Yesterday I visited a special woman who has insight and visions of the past, present and future. From our discussion and after a visit to an amazing beach, I’ve decided it’s time to return.

But not like I was. I’m unsure of how I wish to proceed. While I have several stories in the Laced in Romance collection, my energy wants to return to the fantasy world, so…

Yet, the proof has arrived for my next release: Natural Selection. It’s a dystopian laced with romance novel of about 110,000 words. Longer than I anticipated, but the word count was necessary to tell the story.

While my mind drifts to a destination, it’s the journey that makes life fascinating.

More from Lawrencetown Beach, Halifax County, Nova Scotia

Huge waves hitting the coast from tropical storm Teresa as it passes off shore.

Surfers catching the waves.

Flight of the Fairy Captured on Film

The heat from the grass and forest permeated the still air in the small clearing, and when I breathed in, nature’s energy filled my lungs. Closing my eyes, I heard a slight rustling of leaves high in the trees and a distant cry of an unknown bird. Here, far from the city, people and motor vehicles, the earth relaxed, time stood still and the body felt at home.

As I made my way towards the headstones dotting the burial grounds, I wondered if I had enough time to capture images of every marker. The kids were eager to get to the blueberry field and didn’t want to linger at yet another graveyard. They followed close behind, asking if that person was related, or what did the little lamb on the stone indicate and how much longer was this going to take?

To be honest, my kids didn’t often complain when visiting cemeteries even after they’d been dragged through several dozen. Something always appeared to entertain them even if it was just a hapless toad hopping across our path.

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