A Contemplative Life

We are all part of this tapestry called life. Two more people have been murdered by ICE.  Lorenzo Salgado Araujo in Texas. Joan Sebastian Guerrero in Maine. Neither was the actual suspect ICE was seeking. Both were shot dead, Mr. Guerrero suffering multiple bullet wounds, his young daughter with him in the vehicle. None of the ICE agents were wearing body cameras, as allegedly they weren't issued the equipment. In both cases, ICE agents claim they and the public were in physical danger. My prayers go out to all those who love and are grieving the loss of these men. And I pray that those who killed them will one day acknowledge the wrongs of their actions, and seek forgiveness for such callous and cold-blooded acts. And that each of us will step up in our own neighborhoods, towns, and cities to better care for and love our neighbor, no matter the personal cost.    

In yesterday's post, I wanted to add a bit from the new story, but nothing grabbed me. This morning, reading over Chapter Five prior to writing, I found multiple things that required...assistance. Lol. With still one scene left to read, I'm first going to plop here what I've adjusted, in the hope of sharing a little more of Gilly Lund , as well as the photo above of Camilla caught napping from a few days ago. Below is what I worked on last night, the Warm Hearted Quilt back on the sofa and under my tutelage. Or the tutelage of a threaded needle or three. Maybe I'll write some today, or perhaps I need extra time to get back into the swing of writing. If nothing, else, I need to check the dryer, have some Metamucil, and definitely more caffeine. Enjoy this slice of where my fiction currently resides, in Northern California, autumn 1999. And have a peaceful day!     Chapter Five     Gilly Lund Whitlow was one of the last waiting to deplane, but within her mind conversa...

Recent additions to my Peace Round the World quilt. Greg and Hugh Lund and how did I write all this anyway.... With guests back in their own realms, this morning I sat to read what I'd been writing last month. Wow; where has this month gone? Silly question, but I throw it out there because it's already the thirteenth of July, DUDE! Okay, time warps aside, what I wanted to ponder was how sometimes love stories aren't about eroticism. Sometimes they're about familial rapprochement or merely recognizing how much someone means in our spheres. In reading over the five chapters of what's going on in the lives of Richard and Suze Lund, I was struck at how in two particular instances love within that family, but not Suze and Richard, drives the plot. Or it stirred something in me now a couple of weeks later. Love between brothers Greg and Hugh, between Richard and both of his sons. Love as meaningful as what's shared between spouses, but doesn't get the airplay that...

 Contemplating what drives someone to kill another person because of racial/ethnic/sexuality-gender hatred, and what if instead of hating the murderer,  we loved them? It's probably not what they want. They might prefer to be feared. Or loathed. They might act in heinous manners to further their malicious agenda, hoping their devious actions will continue to stir chaos, which could encourage additional misdeeds. I'm stitching hearts into little sections of quilt sandwiches, pondering the murder of Lorenzo Salgado Araujo in Houston, Texas earlier this week. Slowly affixing this quilt into one coherent cozy, kind of the opposite of what the person who shot Lorenzo Salgado Araujo in the chest did. And yet, I'm trying to not project anger on that ICE agent. I'm trying to extend grace while attempting to understand why ending a person's life seemed to matter more than allowing them to live. You might say, "Well you didn't know Lorenzo Salgado Araujo, so it's...

Written over the span of two days. Grandsons visiting. 'Nuff said.... Part One: While waiting revisions from beloveds on The Deadfern Miracles , I'm living vicariously through my eldest, currently on holiday in our former stomping grounds of England. My husband and our family lived in the UK for almost eleven years, and while hubby and I have visited twice in the last seven years, this is the first trip for any of our kids. So far it's a total WIN, despite the heat, both in London and further north. The grandgirls are finding their mama's childhood home quite the thrill, and my daughter and her hubby are happy, if not at times hot. Temps should cool down this weekend, but the British Museum was affected by the heatwave, several exhibit halls closed, and some exhibits removed. Of course, over five thousand people have died in Europe due to the heat wave, and I don't mean to diminish that. My granddaughters have found it odd how infrastructure exists for keeping peopl...

If we give everything away, we have nothing to lose. My BFF left early this morning, a few days of World Cup games, card games (gin rummy, which I'm hoping to teach to my eldest grandson), MUCH CONVERSATION amid football and gin rummy, and sharing last night's fireworks seated in the closed-off parking lot nearest to the Fisherman's Statue at the Woodley Island Marina in Eureka. We'd never taken her there, and she wandered over to the Fisherman, who honors those lost at sea. Meanwhile I snuggled under my Quilt of Grace as it was a marine layer evening that became a misty, breezy night as we waited for darkness to fall. Fireworks began before the ten p.m. announced start time, and were quite impressive! Only a few headed into the clouds, slightly lessening their brightness, but all in all it was a marvelous show, and we headed home grateful for the outing, and for forty-five years of friendship shared. Cropped from a landscape shot, but a decent example of how large is t...