Joy on a clear, almost summer solstice morning

Sunny starts, near finishes, and how we are here to love one another....

I woke EARLY this morning, probably going to be a more than usual caffeinated kind of day. Sometimes that's how life goes.

Amazing how that tiny star is an enormous planet visible to our naked eyes. (Kind of how our tiny efforts translate into the largest gifts methinks, insert smiley face here.)

But! I did get to view, and take adequate photos of, the waning crescent moon AND Saturn! A formidable ridge of high pressure is building into a heat dome for us on the Pacific West Coast, which means no marine layer, allowing for clear nights and early dawn skies, permitting planetary marvels to be appreciated. Saturn became invisible before five thirty a.m., and the sun peeked over the eastern hills at 6.02. Most mornings begin cloaked in cloud and fog, it's truly a gift to watch that sun emerge, as well as enjoy a planet many millions of miles away.

Yesterday I finished the last round of edits for Can't Be Done Alone: The Hawk Book Five. What a novel, what an undertaking! Steeped in love and crises, odd phenomena and mercy proffered, this book turns the saga from household drama to something much deeper, as one man falls into severe depression, one woman recovers from it, and those who love them attempt their best as situations permit. Again I cannot state enough that when I began writing The Hawk thirteen years ago, I never dreamed it would have become so lengthy, nor the plots needing to unravel. I'm hoping to upload it on Friday, then it might be available on Saturday, we'll see how busy is Draft2Digital.

Meanwhile I have one edge left of the Warm Hearted quilt to secure, and yesterday I pulled out my Mandolin English paper piecing project, which was abandoned last fall when hand-stitching proved troublesome. I'm more proficient with left-handed sewing now, and this quilt will be a good test of that still being honed skill.

I make quilts and write novels not merely to pass the time. And yeah, time feels at a premium, so many projects clamoring for attention. What about that Peace Around the World quilt, or the novel I wrote in spring? How about the other story I've been reading through, ahem, even going so far as putting in page breaks between chapters? Will I ever get back to The Enran Chronicles?

Yet what matters most is actively engaging in the marvel of loving one another. Which, as I read the teaser chapter for The Hawk Book Six, tentatively titled Echoes of His Voice, seemed to shout loudly from the prose: Take care of each other! Here's a sample of what I mean....

 

Seth expected Eric to raise some dissent, but the room was silent. Turning around, Seth assumed Eric had flown away, but the hawk remained, now poking at its left wing. Seth attempted to keep that genderless pronoun attached to the bird, but as it gazed toward the window, making eye contact, Seth shivered. The façade had to cease, even if the consequences were dire to Laurie. This couldn’t continue, Seth realized, no matter how painful it was for any of them.

“Will I meet you properly someday?” Seth whispered. He stepped toward the window, again placing his hands on the glass. “I wanna shake your hand, I wanna….” Seth blinked away tears. “How can I repay you, how can I, oh Jesus!” Seth shook his head, letting his arms fall to his sides. “There’s nothing I can do worth the sacrifice you’ve made. For God’s sake, go home. It doesn’t matter now, Laurie can think what he likes. I’ll just stay here and….”

The screech made Seth’s flesh crawl, for it sounded nothing like that of a bird, more like the scream of a wounded man. How often had Seth heard those shrieks, but had shut them out as though they were no more than gunfire or bombs exploding. They were a part of war as vital as machinery; that’s what weapons were for; to maim, then kill. Killing was better, the ultimate victory for either side. No messy injuries to attend, nothing wasted but another life, though what did those lives matter, for when one ceased, another stood, ready for the firing line.

Which had little to do with art, be it paintings or sculptures. It certainly had nothing in common with Eric’s other mainstay, that as a father. He was a husband to be sure, but as a father he’d had the honor of helping to create a human life. Fortunately for Eric, that child was a daughter, safe from being called to duty. Had Eric wished for a son, Seth wondered. Probably not. But another baby was coming. Seth trembled, then peered out the window. The hawk’s gaze was piercing, like it had read Seth’s mind. “You want another girl, don’t you? You’re hoping she’s not carrying a boy.”

Is it smart to proffer an excerpt from a book not destined for release until year's end? The beauty of indie publishing is I can make that call on a moment's notice, not requiring anyone else's permission. Because time is truly of the essence in regard to how we treat each other. Cruelty and selfishness must end NOW. Greed and lust for power is abhorrent. Ignoring this planet's fragility is stupendously wrong.

Yet, I'm just one person, and my efforts aren't flashy. However, they matter, because small ripples reach outward, bumping into all kinds of others, who might not realize that ping, or maybe they will. Love is so tender, and healing. As we care for one another, who knows what the result might be?

 

Eric nodded, which made Seth shiver. “I don’t blame you. Aunt Rose still wishes Laurie wasn’t a homosexual, but between us, she’s grateful he never had to serve.”

Again the hawk nodded, but this time it wouldn’t meet Seth’s gaze. Seth had never considered being anyone’s father, but he’d always thought Laurie would have been a good dad. Not that he’d expressed such wishes, but Laurie had a grand capacity to love. Tears fell down Seth’s face. “I’m sorry I dragged you all the way out here. Jesus Christ, I’ve hurt so many people.” Seth inhaled deeply, then let it out, seating himself but still maintaining Eric in his sight. “What’m I supposed to do now? Can’t you just leave, can’t we just call it….”

Eric stared directly at Seth, the bird’s dark eyes nothing like those of a human, yet the longer Seth looked, the more oval they appeared. Seth blinked, finding Eric still peering at him, those eyes round but as though Eric could change form in the time it took Seth to blink again. How did the transformation happen, and how long could Eric remain as a hawk? If Seth continued to drag his feet, might Eric never alter back into a man?

The hawk offered a stoic cry, which made Seth grimace. “Five months huh, good God.” If Seth had understood correctly, Eric had left home on the Fourth of July, right after Seth had been admitted into this hospital. Laurie had said the couple’s baby was due in January, dates that made Seth slightly dizzy. He closed his eyes, leaning over in his chair. Eric wasn’t going anywhere till all possibilities had been exhausted. Yet, unlike how Laurie had claimed the same, this didn’t weigh upon Seth in a painful manner. The wooziness subsided and he looked up, finding Eric had moved to the far part of the yard. He appeared to be watching something, and Seth stood, again stepping to the window. He didn’t set his hands on the glass. Instead he squinted, observing how Eric was going to obtain lunch.

 

The next couple of novels in this series focus on healing. Setbacks occur, there wouldn't be drama without them. Again, I didn't plan on writing something so encompassing, I just wanted to tell a story about a guy who turned into a hawk.

Why would that matter? What was so importnat about exploring such a trope, placing it in the 1960s, amid a wide variety of characters? And how would one former Korean War veteran begin a journey back to life alongside a man turned hawk?

 

The lizard had to realize the hawk’s presence, but perhaps it felt natural camouflage would conceal it. Yet Seth knew otherwise, for not only was Eric a bird of prey, but a man with a family on his mind. Eric wouldn’t depart until Seth was well, yet while he remained in Florida, he would endeavor to stay as fit as possible, for who knew when he would leave, perhaps in the middle of winter. Seth permitted that consideration, for he was lost in the wonder, also the slight horror, of a creature about to lose its life. Within seconds, Eric reached for, killed, then ate the lizard. Seth didn’t move as this occurred and after Eric had consumed his prey, he turned around, nodding. Seth nodded back, pressing his hands firmly against the panes. There had been no rage in Eric’s action, only calculated premeditation. Yet Eric had only been a hawk for two months, plenty of human emotions still within him.

“Will you forget you were ever a man?” Seth said softly, then he closed his eyes. Tears escaped, stinging his cheeks. Right before he was sent home, Seth had shut out his entire family, even Laurie. Then he choked as sobs began. Those last weeks in Korea, Seth had continually placed himself in the most dangerous situations, earning praise, as well as concern, from his commanders. Fellow soldiers understood, or those who truly recognized Seth’s actions; he’d been hoping to be killed. Yet somehow his life had been spared, if not his sanity. Yes, he’d been young, but legally an adult, a man. But who was that man, a sculptor perhaps, a Jew? A survivor, but not of The Holocaust. Why was Seth still living?

Rare were the times he pondered that question, more to capture his imagination was why had he been a spectacular failure at suicide? He smiled at himself, it was the most ironic joke. He’d thought going to Florida would be the answer, yet here he was again locked away, but nothing in his life, regardless of its length, would ever be the same. Had Eric thought that when he changed back into a man, or when he turned into a hawk? Or when he became a father; how had that event altered the creature, still gazing at Seth. “What’ll happen to you?” Seth said, then he coughed. “If I get better,” Seth chuckled, “then will you stop changing?”

The bird seemed to shrug, then gaze at the sky. Then the hawk peered at Seth, making him shiver. “I’ve never thought about it,” Seth replied. “I don’t know what kind of man I’m supposed to be.”

 

Five more books remain after Can't Be Done Alone. Because we can't navigate this world without each other, and all of it needs to be based upon love. Somehow writing all this on such a sun-drenched morning feels especially healing, especially powerful too. We underestimate the worth of our kindnesses, believing the problems are too large and unwieldy for our compassions to undue. But what if they're not? What if we all possess the ability to change forms, making life easier for one another?

 

What kind of man returned from such an abyss, Seth then mused, but not merely about himself. How had Eric altered over the years as a painter, a husband, a friend. If Eric was a human being, Seth imagined they would be good friends, perhaps as close as Seth was with Laurie, without the pain. Art would connect them, also loss of their humanity, though Eric’s forfeiture only lasted as long as he was a hawk. Yet for how much longer could Seth exist like a beast of nature? His hands suddenly ached, then Norah’s voice crept into his head: You’re a sculptor, correct? Was he? Seth gazed at his hands, then thought of how gently she had touched him, as though she could will that gift back into his limbs. Seth stared at Eric, taking in nothing remotely human. But somehow this creature would again transform into that of an artist, a husband and father and of…. A man.

Was it a miracle, Seth wondered, it must be. And if that was possible, what if he could fashion some semblance back to the person he’d been years ago, though the guise wouldn’t be that of a youth. Not even in his early twenties had Seth been close to adulthood, to manhood, in whatever form it was meant for him. He was thirty-four years old, yet he rarely considered his age. Before he had been ageless, but even hawks had limited lifespans. Seth didn’t worry that Eric’s alterations would affect how long he lived. More to the point was Seth’s own timeline; it wasn’t extraordinary, other than how often he had stirred in another medical facility. He looked behind him while a shiver traveled along his spine. When he woke after this most recent attempt, he knew it would be his last unsuccessful try. Had that been why he’d asked about Eric, was some small part within him hoping to be rescued?

And if so, was there art to complete, some vast truth to be explained, what was the reason? Seth returned to face the window, seeing not only Eric as a bird. Another vision hovered, but it had nothing to do with war or death or pain. It was healing in nature, and so close to his grasp, stirring something warm within his chest. Laurie occasionally roused such a feeling of….

Hope flickered inside Seth’s ribcage, first as a spark, then slowly building into a fire spreading through his upper body, then shooting down to his lower limbs. His legs tingled, his hands itched, but not like when he worked with clay. These sensations were stronger, perhaps how Eric felt when he changed form. Yet there was no agony, and somehow Seth understood Eric’s transformations weren’t this straightforward. Seth studied his arms, then his legs, that feeling still coursing through him. Then he gazed at Eric. “Will you stay? I don’t think I can do this alone.”

The hawk nodded, then leaped as close as he could get and still be seen. They were separated by the confines of the hospital, but Seth imagined Eric was actually standing behind him, ready to catch Seth in waiting arms. Seth closed his eyes as that idea swirled through him, then he was caught in that still lingering hope, washing through his veins. He began to cry, then fell to his knees as huge, silent sobs wracked his frame.

But the hope didn’t leave him, nor did Eric fly away. Once Seth had permitted that realization, he inhaled, then exhaled, going to his feet. The hawk had moved across the small courtyard, seemed to be collecting stones. Seth sat down, then began to speak about Korea. The ideas were connected to the blue barn and while the hawk continued gathering rocks, he listened to everything Seth needed to say.

 

The title of Book Five actually comes from the end of the first chapter of Book Six. Yet it aptly fit for the novel so close to being published that here I am, blathering about it. Shameless self-promotion one might say, but I see it as a way of reminding how much loving each other matters. What else is there that means more? In loving one another, we act in the manner of Christ, which for those with faith is our calling. We all die in the end, and best to spend our heart currency on the most precious treasures.