In Lieu of the Unknown

Image from my Facebook Author page

Hoping this pre-scheduled blog post finds me well on the wild friendship trip. Well, hopefully not too wild. Are we enjoying one another's company? Have we breathed in poetry from a mountainside? Have we laughed a great deal? Maybe cried a little? Are we driving each other nuts? A full report upon my return.

Preemptive prayer:  Please, God, save us from trips to emergency rooms. May our days together be filled with joy, flexibility, versatility, resourcefulness, and patience. That's a tall order in regards to myself, so bring the miracles, God. Inundate us with your good presence, even those who do not call you Father. Guard us fiercely and see us safely home again.

The Friendship Trip

Image from my Facebook Author Page

Road-Trip Fever is upon me. I leave tomorrow on a routine adventure (if there is such a thing) with a big twist. For the first time ever, I am meeting a group of friends for an extended weekend holiday. Understand, these "friends"? We've never met in person. These are dear people with whom I have worked in an online capacity, and gamed with once a week, for many years. But now, we will be meeting face-to-face, for the first time. And having to live together in a rental house for four days.

I admit, I'm nervous. Things like this can clench or destroy friendships. We're each of us introverts, writers, gamers, and most of us have rather severe social, mental, or health issues. SO! This could get interesting. If we can give each other space and be respectful of boundaries, I think we'll be okay. Yes, my husband and I are taking the Tepui and a camp toilet, just in case this large house begins to feel too small.

Thing is, we all met through LegendFire, my former Critique Community. Three of the folks were my most highly trusted moderators. Two others joined later, but were gals we met through gaming. Now, all of us, minus one, game together every Thursday evening.

For some reason, they still look to me for leadership. Bless their sweet hearts. So back in February, when they jointly asked me, "Hey, Raveneye, we want to meet up in Colorado. You go there a lot. Will you plan a trip for us?" I was like, "...Ooookay. Sure! I can do that." In a couple days it was done. And it has been so heartwarming to hear their excitement as the departure day drew closer and closer.

Now, just to survive the reality.

I'm wagering that today's quote will prove most appropriate, likely for all of us.

Stories on Stone

Image from my Facebook Author Page

While I love this quote by one of my favorite authors, I treasure more the image I pasted it onto. These hand-prints were found in the Lascaux cave, in France. Each hand is a story in itself.

Some months ago, I happened to see the Antonio Banderas film Altamira, which portrays the discovery of similar cave paintings in Spain by Marcelino de Sautuola in the 1870s. Near the end of the film, Sautuola's wife places her petite hand in a print just like these. The fit is perfect. "You didn't tell me they were women," she says. This rocked me. Could it be true? We, from our patriarchal societies, have assumed the painters were men. But what if caves, like wombs, were the province of women?

And so when I look at the image depicted here, from Lascaux, I imagine generations of women trekking into the dark, a bowl of pigment in one hand, and some kind of light source in the other. Why did they venture into the darkness to leave their mark? Was it new motherhood and gratitude that drove them into the womb of the earth? Was it, perhaps, a prayer for fertility? Or coming into a position of leadership like a priesthood or lore-keeping?

Nearly every hand seen here is a left hand. Was it the bowl of pigment each woman held in the right? Red, black, white pigments. Now see the woman earlier in the day, crouching on the ground and grinding the colored minerals to powder and mixing it with water. Did each color have a different taste? Is the color dependent on the generation?

With what awe did each woman stand and gaze upon the hands of the women who came before her? "This one is my mother's. This one belonged to my grandmother..." They would have remembered the women and the names and stories attached to each print. The only lasting chronicle of their people.

Choicest Possession

Image from my Facebook Author Page

Should a room be stripped of furniture, as long as the books remain, the room will still feel furnished, warm, inviting, and full. They provide the furniture of the mind, food for the imagination, and a necessary occupation.

I'm afraid my coffee tables are a little cluttered with books. Can't get enough of them around me. I hunger for their contents and their companionship. One feels a little less alone when surrounded by books. Their voices are there for the asking.

New Wheels

My Townie

We had a realization. Once we have our new Tepui tent set up, we are unable to drive anywhere until we're ready to pull up stakes and move to the next campsite--the tent being actually attached to the top of the car. So we decided I needed a bike. My husband tried to convince me that a mountain bike was the way to go, but I assured him that my mountain biking days are over. Seriously. Forever. No thank you.

So I decided on this cushy Electra Townie. It's in my colors, moss green and saddle brown. My helmet arrives today. Oh, such a helmet it will be. Just wait and see.

Nature Fever

from my Facebook Author page

The camping and hiking season is fast approaching. Nature fever is upon me. The mountain trails are covered with late snows this year, and my husband's workload has been ridiculous, so our plans have been slightly delayed. June it is. June cannot come fast enough.

When it does, move over Muir. I need some room for "the winds to blow their freshness into me."

As Sharp As Swords

From my Facebook Author page

Despite my departure into historical fiction, I find myself drawn back again into the realm of fantasy. I am close to having enough content for a collection of stories that all take place in the world of Tanerra. That world where "Fire Eater" and "Mists of Blackfen Bog" (my first two stories accepted for publication) are set.

This particular world has been undergoing development off and on for, guessing, 18 years now. It's rich, complex, huge, involves really two worlds in one, and many planar realms besides. So the possibilities for stories are endless.

And this project is something I've envisioned for years. To think it might actually come to fruition is energizing.

To that end, I need the title story. The foundation story. The story that introduces the pantheon, the myths and legends upon which all the other stories hinge, even if indirectly.

So last week, I began work on "Winter Star." Another couple of weeks ought to see Draft 1 completed. Fingers crossed.

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Side note: my website has received an overhaul and is now live! It is now worlds away from the antiquated ickiness that it was before. Loving it. See the changes HERE.