Category Archives: philosophy

Cerro de la Cruz in Mazatlan, Mexico

The Legend and the Promise,

the History, Memories, Science, Tradition, and  an Invitation to See For Yourself!

The Legend of the Enduring Cross From the Sea

There was in Mexico a legend that sailors told about the cross of the sea. It so happened that in the first century AD, a bearded man arrived on a small boat to the coast which now-a-days lies at Santa Cruz Huatulco, Mexico. He was carrying an enormous log that resembled the shape of a cross.

https://www.amstardmc.com/blog/huatulcos-living-legend-the-cross-of-the-sea

The Zapotec and Mixtec Indians watched in amazement as the foreigner raised the log in the middle of their settlement, and they became grateful as he taught them how to live fruitfully. Long after the mysterious man left in the same small boat he had arrived in, people remembered and told the story, until it became a legend. Quetzalcoatl they called him, while Catholic sources called him St. John the Apostle. But it was later, after the port prospered  from his teaching, that the Cross of the Sea legend grew wings. In 1587 the pirate Cavendish attacked, looting the town of all it’s riches.  Only the cross remained. He tried to destroy the sacred log in several different ways with no success. The cross was attacked with knives and axes, but it didn’t get cut. It was set on fire, but it didn’t burn. Finally, it was tied with ropes and chains to Cavendish’s ship, in order to pull it down into the ocean, but the ship stopped, unable to move the cross from its mooring! Over the years the cross endured and the legend also.

The Promise of the Sailor from Mazatlan

(Story often told to explain the sudden appearance of the Cross)

http://www.memoryprints.com/image/452225/admiral-sir-edward-gennys-fanshawe-storm-at-mazatlan-mexico

Almost 200 years passed. In 1762 a sailor from Mazatlán was caught in a terrible storm at sea. As his boat pitched and took on water, he feared that he would never reach his safe inland harbor for the sea became hungry and began to devour the ship. The sailor fell to his knees and prayed to the gods of sailors.  He asked Zeus to quiet the thunder and call in the lightning, and he asked Poseidon to let him outrun the storm. But the howling winds drowned his prayers and  the sirens of the sea sang to him of death in their arms.

It was then that the sailor remembered the legend of the enduring cross and in desperation , he cried out to the Virgin of Guadalupe who in 1531 promised a special love for Mexico’s people.  “Oh Mother, My Mother, Queen of the Sea. Ask God to save me, and I will raise a great white cross on high over Mazatlan. One so big and beautiful that people will remember the spark of divinity that lives in the hearts of all. Even those who do not believe will know that Mazatlan worships more than silver, gold and power and that the devil does not rule over this city, my Mazatlan.” And Mary heard him and whispered her request to God who accepted THE PROMISE. The winds sighed.  A sweet breeze came to blow the sailor safely to Mazatlan Harbor while the storm raged behind him. The ocean  bore her gift of giant timbers, washing them gently ashore at the lofty bluff of Cerro de la Cruz.  Then to keep his promise, the sailor worked his trade.  With mallet and chisel, he shaping  the beams into a cross, painted it white, and used the  pulleys and ropes of a sea faring man to set it up on high. It appeared as if by magic for all lost souls at sea, or blowing in the winds of perdition. It stands today upon Cerro de la Cruz to remind us of hope and the power of prayer.

The History of the Cross on the Cerro

Mazatlán was called “the Islands” by the pirates because fingers of the estuary ran between the high hills so that Cerro de la Cruz was an island towering above a passage of water from Olas Altas to the inland harbor. Historians say that in the year 1806, this land was no more than a wild and solitary forest, all covered with tall trees, lagoons and marshes. The sea washed onto the beach of Machado square and formed an irregular beach to the current Municipal Market. The cross shining white up top the promontory, was the landmark sailors looked for to find their way to the inner harbor. It was also a vantage point from which to look for warships come to capture the port. At first, there was no land passage to Creston and no El Faro ( built in  1879) up top. The cross  of Cerro de la Cruz was the beating heart of Mazatlán.

A Memory of Growing Up Under the Cross

“We were tough little kids that loved to play war and to do that, in our barrio at the bottom of Cerro de la Cruz we had a gang we called La Padilla. It was not easy to join La Padilla, our gang. We would take little kids who wanted to join and first tie them up and dress them in girly ruffles and make fun of them. Then, we stuffed jalapeño peppers up their noses and made them slaves. In daytime, we just went out back of my house to play in the rocks. We knew the devil hid out there. We could smell him, especially after a  storm with thunder and lightning.  When we saw an iguana staring out thru the  brimstone, we said the devil was showing his face. It proved you were brave if you dared to go there at night. But if you did, well there was that white cross up high above us in the light of the moon. We all knew that was why it was there, our protection when we were afraid.__Jorge Puente

Science

Being curious, we formed a crew of like-minded adventurers and found our way through various barriers to the top of la Cerro de la Cruz.  Our goal was to determine how the hill was formed and so we asked Mick McCarthy, a geologist to join us. Don Ramon was able to secure the permission to bring us with him. He has been the keeper of  the cross over many years. Plastering, painting, redoing the concrete moorings and steps, all at his own expense.

Typical damage repaired by Don Ramon

A lovely young lady biochemist  came along to see the experiments with acid that Mick used to test the stones, and her mother came to translate and to represent the community of faith that would visit the cross on May 3.

Team researching  Cerro de la Cruz: Roccio, Mike, Mick and Sue. Patricia took the picture and Don Ramon  guided us to the cross above.

Don Ramon is the president of the neighborhood of Cerro de Vigia. He and others of those living so near, have witnessed faint blue light emitting from the rocks on more than one occasion. Mick explained that is indicative of burning sulfur dioxide gas escaping from deep fissures in the lava, most likely along the fault line.  The lady who opened the entrance gate described feeling the earth shudder slightly now and then.  Mick said that animals will exhibit odd behavior before a tremor, like dogs perking up their ears and being a little agitated, or chickens suddenly scurrying around.  Horses are perhaps the most sensitive to deep seated movements in the earth that are imperceptive to humans.  He offers details such as rock type and physical description of fault lines to anyone interested, saying that would be his way of adding a grain of sand to the arena of geographical knowledge about Mazatlan. We learned the rocks were colored red by mercury, green by copper, yellow by sulfur, black by lava, etc. The hill was formed like a chimney for molten stone as tectonic plates moved against one another. On close examination, each rock had millions of tiny bubbles that would hold drops of water.  Lightening would be drawn to strike fire and cook the minerals smelling of brimstone. Being a lover of stories, I figured that made it the perfect lair for the devil beneath the hill crowned  by the cross.

Tradition  

There was a time when the traditions of religious processions was ended in Mazatlan. The church bells did not ring. It was forbidden to even use terms like “Adios” which means “Go with God.” Worship and prayer was held in secret in what was known as “those dark days.” But like the lava that boiled up to form the hill, the love and passion of the people seek expression. They want to honor their land and the ways of the heart. So since 2011,  Don Ramón Zamudio,  has worked to bring back the beloved traditions once practiced. He thought even tourists would like to come, see and join in as they do in Europe. And since Mazatlan is the place of parties and fiestas, he reminds everyone that for 200 years people pilgrimaged to the hill, and placed an offering. The religious celebration at the cross ended in a great convivial tamaliza with music, including the blessing of objects held sacred to bring . It is seven years now since Don Ramon began to restore what weather, earthquakes and circumstances have wrought against the white cross. He is a fervent promoter that tradition not be lost.

An Invitation

“Come visit the cross on the hill on May 3rd from the 10:00 hours onwards. Everyone, residents and tourists. Here in Mazatlan where party is king, let us gather together in a procession to honor that spark of divinity that lives in the hearts of all and is symbolized by the shining white cross it is my privilege to tend.

Each time I ascend the Cero de la Cruz and stand looking down at my beloved city, I am filled with love and joy. There is peace here. Shelter from  storms. I feel grateful and more alive than I can tell. I feel one with everything.”

Don Ramón invites you!
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Buy Now:

Hotel Belmar: the Ghost Has the Key

is available on Amazon in paperback and e-book formats at:
https://amzn.to/2pOpoMI


ISBN:978-0-6921 139820

The Author will have books at the First Friday Art-walk in Mazatlan. Come to the Quilt show at El Cid.  Click here to read reviews.

Until then, going fast. Call 981-8072.

Other books by S.K.Carnes

ISBN:978-0692-84685-8  Description 
Purchase here

 

ISBN:987-0692-85172-2
Available in paperback, as an audiobook and e-book.  Silver Medal from Readers Favorite
Purchase here

 

ISBN:978-0-9718600 2008 Golden Moonbeam Award.  Available from author.
Description Here

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Digging Up Bones

The sea is the largest cemetery, and its slumbers sleep without a monument.” “All other graveyards show symbols of distinction between great and small, rich and poor: but in the ocean cemetery, the king, the clown, the prince and the peasant are alike, undistinguishable.”

—George Bruce, 1884, St Andrews

As I walk along the entrance wall of Panteon No 2,   I am aware that the real graves are located inside.  But all along Ave. Gabriel Leyva, markers of Mazatlan’s heroes form a line  that once faced Mazatlan’s safe harbor. City fathers, philanthropists, and notable women are named, their contributions extolled on tall impressive monuments that stand in “honor’s row” along with those who sailed the blue Pacific. Though the waters are now contained by the seawall  blocks away, it is a fitting tribute that announces “Who is Who in Panteon No 2.”

I want to remember what happened here!

Even though I like to visit this cemetery, see the symbols and statues over each grave, and wonder about that  lifetime, the earliest dates on the stones are from the late 1800s. There must be earlier burial sites since there were some 3000 people at the start of the 1800s.  I want to find them and connect the dots. It seems that writing about ghosts in my new book, I fell under the spell of the old. It is dangerous, this “digging up bones,” it makes you want to know the rest of the story.

I am lucky because I now have a partner to work with who is a master at research. Bette Schwarz welcomes me into the fold of the curious “wanna know mores.” She works at night translating old documents, trying to understand the meaning in the Spanish words. It is map making in reverse, tracing the way back through history to the way it was then. And Mazatlan is so full of way-markers and clues. Lewis Carol wrote in Alice in Wonderland that “it is a poor sort of memory that only works backwards.” Wow. How timely is the idea that we can learn from the past and maybe do better! And so I am going to walk the route back in time that Bette has laid out for me and test that idea. How cool! Bette tells me that “the information a genealogist finds must be shared with others.” I like that—the kind of redistribution where nobody loses. It’s riches all around. She has been reading Oses Cole’s “Dictionarios,” (2006) and I have articles that indicate:

The first organized panteon in Mazatlan was located approximately between the streets 21 de Marzo, Teniente Azueta, Doctor Carvajal and Canizales and functioned until the  mid-1840s. But as the century passed, new people with no memory that it was a burial site came to build farms and then homes in the neighborhood. When digging-in foundations across these four blocks, human remains surfaced,and the place came to be called  “Barrio de las Calaveras,” “The Place of the Skulls.” Finally, there only remained above ground the memorial owned by the Romanillo family.

The first official cemetery (Panteon No.1) was built on the outskirts of Mazatlan, where the livestock  grazed the meadow, hence the name  La Plazuela del Burro. It was between what is today Germán Evers and Hidalgo streets.  It was here on the Donkey Plaza in  Panteon No. 1 that one of the most controversial characters of the port was buried: the famous “Picaluga” of Genovés origin who also called himself “Juan Passador” and according to the anecdotes of that time his tomb was cursed. Here also, The “should have been famous”  Birdman of Mazatlan, Andrew Jackson Grayson was buried in the Protestant section, separated from the Catholic gravesites by a wall. With the opening of the Panteons Nos. 2 and 3, in 1870 and 1909 respectively, the city stopped burials in the first municipal cemetery.  At that time the land was owned by the German Welfare Society of Mazatlan, then represented by Federico Unger, who donated the property in 1921 to build a park there in 1924.Today it is covered over by the Plazuela Angel Flores and the school of the same  name. 

I set off to find all the oldest graveyards, to get a feel of the past, and see how they fare today. And, I’m taking my German Shepard dog Karma with me. You know-in case of ghosts seeking revenge or trying to win out in the battle of life and death!!!!!! Bette quotes a wise person saying we die three times. First at death, second at burial and lastly when forgotten. So who remembers and what’s shakin’ in these less traveled  places?

Surprise!

Memory is alive and well but hidden from non Spanish speakers and  my untrained eyes. I meet several living in the Barrio who dis-believe tales of graves in the neighborhood, and some who are shocked that foreigners are asking to know such secrets. But the nearby  Chapel Miraculous proclaims with it’s processions that “a city without traditions is a city without history. “Let the circle connecting times and hearts be unbroken.”

In my next blog, with the help of Bette Schwarz and Cheryl D’Angelo ( a kind friend and fellow walker who speaks Spanish and is too polite to say “No”) I hope to crack open this mystery. The strangest thing though—the deeper I get into these things, the more questions I have! Until next time, then, when “Them bones them bones gonna walk around!”

New recruit Cheryl D’Angelo: alive with enthusiasm!

Buy Now:

Hotel Belmar: the Ghost Has the Key

is available on Amazon in paperback and e-book formats at: https://amzn.to/2pOpoMI

ISBN:978-0-6921 139820 https://amzn.to/2pOpoMI

The Author hopes to have books at the First Friday Artwalk in Mazatlan. Click here to read reviews. Until then, going fast.

Other books by S.K Carnes:

ISBN:978-0692-84685-8 amxn.to/2nasO9S
SBN:987-0692-85172-2 http:bit.ly/SoldiersJourney Available in paperback, as an audiobook and e-book Silver Medal from Readers Favorite
ISBN:978-0-9718600 2008 Golden Moonbeam Award. Available from author

On Laureates, the Sungod and Trees!

The above picture is a composite of polkadotedflower.deviantart.com and Franceso Albani from 1615.
Hooray! Epiphany. Starting Over in Oregon is finally formatted in paper and available on Amazon.com. Whew. It is great to have completed this, my third book and second novel—a daunting task. And now that I have made an audiobook of The Way Back. A Soldier’s Journey, I know I can make Epiphany an audiobook too. I crown myself “Laureate of the Highest Order I Have Reached Yet!”
More crowns ahead.  I want to transform-branch out-radiate! I am not ready “to rest on my luarels.” Like I do when I write, I looked up the meaning of said saying, and found that I want to be like Daphne who originated “the look.” A good look for me! But let me explain. I hope you love stories like I do.
It seems that Apollo, the pre-Christian Greek god, loved the nymph Daphne who turned into a Bay Tree when he reached out to her. Voila! He embraced the plant, cut off a branch to make into a wreath to wear around his head, and declared the tree sacred. Of course such wreaths were given as accolades for lauded deeds like winning an Olympic game. Hence “laureates are recognized for completing some kind of wondrous task—like writing a novel. Resting on your laurels means laying back on what you have accomplished. Laying back does not thrill me.
I am hooked on rising up, Daphne style. Like a tree, I like to branch out.  Yep. It’s a fact that when a tree stops growing it begins to die. So, having tasted some success looking back on my own life, making sense of it and honing the skills to communicate my story, it is time to shift gears and begin again. Why? Because I want to be like Daphne the nymph. As long as the sun god shines on me, I am going to bloom. I like my companions in my writing group-their challenge, their support, and I know I belong because I can still give them something from my experiences to help them grow too. And then there is the excitement of researching my subject and putting together the ideas and stories around me into something new. And what I am not good at—the technology, the social networking, the marketing etc. etc.? Well that just means there is room for growth. And oh the view, the contacts, the heady warmth of Apollo coming close, the rays of the sungod shining through me—embracing me. Oh. What fun to learn.
No, the book is not the destination, but instead it is the funny thing that happens along the way to finishing it. Like the going is the getting there. Got it? Get  growing!
And just for the “lovely of it” here is the whole poem by Joyce Kilmer about a tree. The writer was a Daphne lover!
Trees  
I think that I shall never see
A poem lovely as a tree.
A tree whose hungry mouth is prest
Against the earth’s sweet flowing breast;
A tree that looks at God all day,
And lifts her leafy arms to pray;
A tree that may in Summer wear
A nest of robins in her hair;
Upon whose bosom snow has lain;
Who intimately lives with rain.
Poems are made by fools like me,
But only God can make a tree.
 ___________________________________________

Order the Historical Novel by S.K. Carnes,  The Way Back,
recently released in all e-book stores.

cover of The Way Back
New novel: The Way Back. To find it on Amazon Kindle at  http://bit.ly/SoldiersJourney
Also as an Audio book at adbl.co/2f0UeOp      Soon to be Published in paper.
finalist-shiny-web5star-shiny-web

Legendary High Flyers

Above image: massively.com/wp-content/uploads/2016/10/riders-of icarus
I remember the story of the bird that stopped singing when put into a cage. With that in mind, I want to write about those who let their spirits soar, smashing through limitations. They walk among us!

HIGH FLIGHT

By John Gilesppi McGee Jr.
Oh! I have slipped the surly bonds of earth,
And danced the skies on laughter-silvered wings;
Sunward I’ve climbed, and joined the tumbling mirth
Of sun-split clouds, –and done a hundred things
You have not dreamed of –Wheeled and soared and swung
High in the sunlit silence. Hov’ring there
I’ve chased the shouting wind along, and flung
My eager craft through footless halls of air…
Up, up the long, delirious, burning blue
I’ve topped the wind-swept heights with easy grace
Where never lark or even eagle flew —
And, while with silent lifting mind I’ve trod
The high untrespassed sanctity of space,
Put out my hand, and touched the face of God.
John Gilesppi McGee bounded from the cockpit of his plane with a scrap of paper in hand. The 18 yr. old American pilot for the Royal Canadian Airforce had jotted down a poem he called High Flight. It began,”Oh I have slipped the surly bonds of earth”  Young McGee wanted to fly in the Battle of Britain so much that he illegally crossed Canada’s border and began flight training for World War II. Three months later the young pilot/poet was dead, tragically killed test flying a super marine Spitfire.
I first heard McGee’s poem recited by the President of the United States following the tragic loss of Challenger 7 and her legendary crew.

We shall never forget them nor the last time we saw them, as they prepared for their mission and waved good-bye and slipped the surly bonds of Earth to touch the face of God.”—President Ronald Regan

pedro-at-dawnMazatlan has her heroes!  Every morning just at dawn, I walk past the memorial to Pedro Infante, a legend in bronze, that sits on a bluff overlooking the sea and Mazatlan Mexico where he was born. Pedro was an aviation fanatic and died in the crash of a war bomber he piloted. Another bronze statue is set in Mexico City made from the bronze keys of his fans. Two other such statues reside in Mexico. Pedro’s fame increased after his death. As Mexican American author, Denise Chavez, in her book “Loving Pedro Infante” put it humorously, “If you’re a [Mexican], and don’t know who he is, you should be tied to a hot stove with a yucca rope and beaten with sharp dry corn husks as you stand in a vat of soggy fideos.” Why? Because his spirt soared.  He was a high flyer!
new-pegasus I created this image for my soon to be published book Epiphany: Starting Over in Oregon which is about rising above fears.  It is my attempt to describe spirit that won’t be confined, as a silver Pegasus. My next book  will be about Mazatlan’s HOTEL BELMAR— the place of high flyers— fascinating  people who dared much, their fame increasing after death,  for such energy lives on. “We shall never forget them.”
Mazatlan was a favorite destination for Hollywood stars escaping prohibition and watchful eyes. Indeed, the Belmar was the first ocean front luxury hotel in Mexico that catered to the “tinsel town. ” John Wayne kept a room in the Belmar while he worked in Durango making movies. The Matinee idol Tyrone Power, a highly decorated Marine pilot in World War II, often played cards with the locals in the spacious game room.
0vt88-ieuieh1tpk5I found this picture of Errol Flynn high-up the mast of his beloved yacht that frequented the Mazatlan waterfront.  See it at The Hairpin.com: The scandals of Classic Hollywood: In Like Errol Flynn. I am collecting  more  pictures and legends of the Belmar Hotel in Sinaloa, Mazatlan, Mexico to share  in this Blog and in my new book.  Stay tuned…


Order the Historical Novel by S.K. Carnes,  The Way Back,
recently released in all e-book stores.

New novel: The Way Back. To find it on Amazon Kindle at  http://bit.ly/SoldiersJourney
Also as an Audio book at adbl.co/2f0UeOp      Soon to be Published in paper.
finalist-shiny-web 5star-shiny-web

The Power of the Animal

 Last summer, we adopted a young German Shephard dog by the name of Karma. I saw her picture on the Internet and fell in love with her pretty face. She had been abandoned in a kennel for a year and a half and it took a court order filed by a sympathetic soul to get her out. Karma means action you know, and reaction. Fast forward to life with Karma today. We go to the beach twice a day for a run and a swim. At first, she was afraid of the waves on Olas Altas Beach—the sound and fury of them as they crashed ashore. She had only known a chain-link fence that kept her in confinement. But now, she cries and trembles on the way to the beach as she thinks of the joy of being free to work a job! When I throw a stick out across the breakers, she bounds into them to fetch it. Even as the waves roll over her, she remembers her mission, and though the stick gets sucked and surged in the surf, Karma finds it using her considerable powers. It is something to see her parade with her stick. Triumphant. Pleasing me, doing what I could never do.
And I remember my little Arabian horse Gremlin. Back in my long ago Wisconsin life, when all means of rounding up the cattle on our ranch failed, and the men finally admitted that their 4 wheeled beasts were no match for 60 head of rangy yearlings, that is when the guys would come asking for help. Gremlin knew. He would snort and tremble with excitiment as I rode him out to face the herd of beasties. Just me up top  a little horse facing jazzed up young cattle that had suceeded in out manuevering 4 men on machines. And so, in our face challenging, “they” (the yearlings) would come forward in a line, breaking out each end in a dead run. But one by one, I watched their eyes ablaze in rebellion, widen in fear, then get docile, as my little horse came alongside, ears back, nose out, outrunning them, out turning them, until they obediently filed thru gates and into the corals like it was their idea. How Gremlin would prance and dance with pride, for he loved his job—his work—and I got to be part of it. For a little while, I had powers I did not have alone—the power of the animal. Amen.
attackdog
I finished my book Epiphany. Starting Over in Oregon. It is out as a Kindle book:
amzn.to/2bFQnme
A reviewer calls it ” a story of endings and beginnings, heartache and humor, confusion and enlightenment.”
Over summer I learned how to make an Audiobook of my work of Historical Fiction set after World War I on my homeplace in Wisconsin: The Way Back. A Soldier’s Journey.
Listen to an audio http://162.215.253.97/~susancar/wp-content/uploads/2016/09/retail-audio-sample.mp3 Simply double click on this link and a new window will open.  Enjoy!
 

Endings and Beginnings

Last night, under a full Mexican moon, I watched lusty waves rise up flaunting emerald throats topped in foam, saw each one in turn roll over and crash spilling frothy bubbles a-shimmer in liquid glass onto Olas Altas Beach, as surfers, laughing children, families and lovers played in the ebb and flow of the great Pacific Ocean. Sort of like life. I thought. This place of beginnings and endings and goings on! And then I remembered a favorite song sung by a favorite singer Harry Chapin.

All my life’s a circle, sunrise and sundown
The moon rolls through the nighttime, till the daybreak comes around
All my life’s a circle but I can’t tell you why
The season’s spinnin’ round again the years keep rollin’ by

I thought about the season of winter spinning round again, remembering what I had accomplished over summer. Yes, I finished my book Epiphany. Starting Over in Oregon. It is out as a Kindle book:
amzn.to/2bFQnme
A reviewer calls it ” a story of endings and beginnings, heartache and humor, confusion and enlightenment.”

Over summer I learned how to make an Audiobook of my work of Historical Fiction set after World War I on my homeplace in Wisconsin: The Way Back. A Soldier’s Journey
Listen to a sample
Here.

Yesterday, I walked downtown to buy a frame for my latest oil painting. The old frame I found contains a canvas I can use to paint a new picture. I must get out my easel! And, as I trudged along carrying home my find, I thought about a new book rising up flaunting its throat of possibilities in my mind. What will this new season bring? Life is playing in the ebb and flow of beginnings and endings and I intend to jump right in and get into the swim.

Plum Out of Luck

Write to Catch a Dream in a Bubble That Does Not Break

“If you are dealt a lemon, make lemonade,” they say. Well, Kindle Scout decided not to publish my book, so I decided to can plums. This after the racoons descended on our plum trees. Our poor recently rescued German Shephard is suffering from doggy Post Traumatic Stress after treeing all the coons. The racoon in the picture below got treed in plum tree heaven and munched all night to the dog’s bombastic dismay. Bill, having survived combat in Viet Nam, isn’t big at killing things. You can easily see his confoundment in the picture below, especially since he can’t remember where we hid the key to the gun safe.
coondog and Bill
So, instead of lamenting and beating my chest with disappointment and the despair that is oh too common among those of us #rejected by publishers, I have turned to  every day and needful things. The plums had to be harvested to avoid  tempting all our wildland  varmints who love the sweet and juicy. BiIl and I love sweet and juicy. And isn’t that what writing is all about anyhow? Preserving? Harvesting? Besides, I am working on an audiobook and can’t lose heart.
Hoping to get back to peaceful nights, back to sleep uninterrupted by  barking dogs, back to enjoying a yard uncluttered with fallen fruit,  I have “put by” plums in every fashion and in every glass jar. You know, jams, jellies, conserves, meat sauces, whole in honey. Like writing, it is a sticky and messy business. But when a thought or experience is contained,  writing is like catching a dream in a bubble that will not break! And to take the analogy a step further, in the form of an audiobook, it will be tasty on the tongue!
sideways looksm
 
While I puzzle over how to publish Epiphany. Starting Over in Oregon, please consider downloading The Way Back from any e-book store, written by S.K. Carnes, me. Soon it will be an audiobook as well as an e-book.
Here is a Review:
“The Way Back: A Soldier’s Journey has something to please any reader – romance, history, adventure, drama, poetry, a quietly epic feel, a magnificently rendered landscape, and eclectic characters unlike any of the ‘ho-hum’ heroes of lesser fiction. Having once entered John Chapman’s world, readers will want to linger, holding close one of the most pure-of-heart and earnestly crafted narratives in recent memory.” —Writers Digest
Order the Historical Novel by S.K. Carnes,  The Way Back, recently released in all e-book stores.

 
 

Down The Home Stretch

above image at https://www.etsy.com/listing/50873652/home-stretch-horse-racing-print

The Final Kick

Running long races, there is the need to muster a “last surge”. I well remember the end of Grandma’s Marathon– up that last hill in old Duluth and down, painfully down. The knees are gone and going downhill is dreadful, but there ahead, Lake Superior’s waterfront and the finish line is bordered by fans cheering me to cross it “going away.”
There was that time, that euphoric time, when I could catch everyone I could see. Ironically, it came just before what they call “the wall” through which I struggled with pain and flagging energy. Then as now, the shining Bayfront awaits. The end is near, and it is all downhill.
Life is like a horse race: Around the far turn and down the stretch. And that is where it counts. Just do it. Finish the things you have started, and do it with a flourish. With style. With all you’ve got!
I am currently recording an audiobook.  Both of my novels will be available in all formats. I am doing this myself and editing it myself. It is a steep learning curve for me, but it is fun to learn new things. Soon,  Kindle Scout will tell me if they will publish my book, and I thank all of you who thought it might be a good book—good enough to be published. Well, I promise you this. You will laugh and cry and agree that life is about putting it all together for that grand run down the home stretch!
Only 4 days left to nominate Epiphany: Starting Over in Oregon at   https://kindlescout.amazon.com/p/113MLKNVIX6T


While I wait to see if Kindle Scout will publish Epiphany, please consider downloading The Way Back from any e-book store, written by S.K. Carnes, me. Soon it will be an audiobook as well as an e-book.

Here is a Review:

The Way Back: A Soldier’s Journey has something to please any reader – romance, history, adventure, drama, poetry, a quietly epic feel, a magnificently rendered landscape, and eclectic characters unlike any of the ‘ho-hum’ heroes of lesser fiction. Having once entered John Chapman’s world, readers will want to linger, holding close one of the most pure-of-heart and earnestly crafted narratives in recent memory.” —Writers Digest
Order the Historical Novel by S.K. Carnes,  The Way Back, recently released in all e-book stores.

 
 

Shedding the Long Shadow of Abuse

Above image: hope_for_the_future_by_eddiecalz-d60f44i

Purpose

Epiphany is not just a pretty face. Sure it is classified by Kindle Scout as a “Romance,” and an “Action Adventure” but it is really a story about struggling out of the shadows toward the light. Please go to Kindle Scout, and nominate Epiphany to be published. Only 16 days left.                https://kindlescout.amazon.com/category/158566011?page=2
Birch in the Canyon 1
Years ago I took this picture of a birch tree in a canyon. Because it was so dark deep down, the birch tree grew up—up and—UP to reach the sun. It turned into this remarkable tree. It is an outstanding specimen among birch trees that usually mature at 40-50 feet in height. To me, this tree symbolizes people who live in difficult situations. Like trees, our purpose is to grow toward the sun. Thus enlightened by wisdom, we inspire others to overcome the shadows.



While I wait to see if Kindle Scout will publish Epiphany, please consider downloading The Way Back from any e-book store, written by S.K. Carnes, me. Here is a review:
“The Way Back: A Soldier’s Journey has something to please any reader – romance, history, adventure, drama, poetry, a quietly epic feel, a magnificently rendered landscape, and eclectic characters unlike any of the ‘ho-hum’ heroes of lesser fiction. Having once entered John Chapman’s world, readers will want to linger, holding close one of the most pure-of-heart and earnestly crafted narratives in recent memory.” —Writers Digest
Order the Historical Novel by S.K. Carnes,  The Way Back, recently released in all e-book stores.

Safe on the Side-hills of Success

Above image, courtesy of: www.wallpaperfo.com_63.jpg

“A crooked legged man walks best on the side-hills of success.”

This quote is puzzling. It nags at me, begging for my attention like a pesky dog wanting me to throw a ball.   So I’ve decided to toss it out  and fetch it’s meaning—for me. If it intrigues you,  please do join me to wonder over it.
I think that the term “crooked legged” refers, not to anatomy, but to some flaw in thinking that hinders fulfillment of my goals.  Ironically, I have been afraid of heights all of my life and have tried to overcome this fear, climbing and crossing over high places. That must be why the above “wise-ism” intrigues me. “Crooked-legged” is a metaphor for the fear that plagues me, and side-hills would then symbolize the safe, attainable and familiar.
Don’t we all want to be successful (whatever that means) in our endeavors?   I write and paint, always trying to catch onto, constantly hoping to  capture, some lovely thing that probably I can’t quite get hold of. Spirit perhaps? Yes, I am  safe and comfortable on the side-hills of success, looking up. But I force myself to climb higher  into unfamiliar territory. Reaching the top of the mountain could just expose my flaw (like the idea of being crooked legged) as an excuse I have conjured up. A shadow across my path upward. And then what?……..

“If you’re not living on the edge, you’re taking up too much space.”

Presently, I am trying to master two difficult things: 1. I want to narrate my own audiobook.  2. I seek to tame an aggressive dog. I am technologically challenged, but must learn to use recording and editing equipment if I am to do an audiobook, and I am afraid I can’t figure out the jargon. The dog? Her name is Karma. She scares me. There is the rub. I have to go in the direction of my fear. If that isn’t crooked-legged thinking, what is? “Karma.” Hmmmmm. I wonder how this rescued dog earned such a name!
So, I accept the idea that “crooked legged” means, for me, fear of excellence. I am tempted to stay with what I can already do. But, I want to take what talent I have, to higher levels and explore new territory. An audiobook? Well, I have read the manual on my recorder and set up a make-shift studio. Now, I have to hit the red “record” button and try out the microphone. And I must learn to modulate and sing my words so they make a melody of my stories.
Karma
And the dog? She waits outside my door. It will take all my strength and love of the wild to master this exquisite beast. Mastery. Never complete mastery. No. For me, success resides on the mountain top of partnering with the wild in the other. But my “downfall” is contained in another “wise-ism” by an unknown author:

“The road to success is dotted with many tempting parking spaces.”


While I chip away at the rock of editing and revising Epiphany, please consider downloading The Way Back from any e-book store, written by S.K. Carnes, me. Here is a review:
“The Way Back: A Soldier’s Journey has something to please any reader – romance, history, adventure, drama, poetry, a quietly epic feel, a magnificently rendered landscape, and eclectic characters unlike any of the ‘ho-hum’ heroes of lesser fiction. Having once entered John Chapman’s world, readers will want to linger, holding close one of the most pure-of-heart and earnestly crafted narratives in recent memory.” —Writers Digest
Order the Historical Novel by S.K. Carnes,  The Way Back, recently released in all e-book stores.