My life glides by with such lightning speed that I scarce can mark the days. Time is moving beyond my mind's ability to remember the reasons why I set out on this journey in the beginning. As I look back over the moments, the days and years, I wish upon a memory. The stars are bounteous in the sky but they don't hold what I need to find. My wishes are in a time capsule that exists in some etherical place beyond time. So I reach out to capture a glimpse of my dreams to become a creative freelance writer. In that space of memories, my name is printed boldly on the books I always intended to write.

Daydreams carry me back to years so far away yet just within my reach. I close my eyes and reminisce about when life was like a romantic poem. Every thought and every dream had a magical happy ending. Nothing was impossible then if only I dared to dream it. Oh, how I wish upon a memory that I could turn back the years and live those happy dreams once again. A smile gingerly crosses my lips as I fondly think of those times where I sat in a meadow or a forest feeling carefree. My tablet and pen were always ready and my fresh mind was always willing to scribe the wondrous thoughts that happened along. I gazed for hours at the flowers, the sky, the birds, the trees and contemplated rhymes as I listened to the buzzing bees. It was all so perfect, so beautiful, so easy then.

When I go back to those precious times, I reach for those stars in my eyes again and step into the brightness of that time. Visions come back to me now as I remember my favorite suspense short story and how I pondered its ending. I wrote copious notes and alternative scenes. The possibilities for the story were so diverse that I could have written a dozen stories from one creative idea.

"Tread softly and slowly old woman", they say.
"Watch every step so you don't fall."
Eternity is creeping in without delay
Familiar words I seem to recall
Were uttered to me as a young lass of three
Oh, when my step was clumsy and carefree
Ironic how familiar the sounds and hence
I walk a grandmother's twilight cadence.

The Midnight Writer

From deep slumber my body awoke still drowsy in dreams now fading.
The scent of maple on hotcakes stirred my tastebuds
As the crackling fire carried me away, my senses evading
The wakeful bliss I almost tasted seconds ago.

I rolled in my bunk bed with that familiar wood creaking
From the weight of my body too large for the bed's small frame.
The smell of wool mingled with lavendar filled my nostrils
So I lavished there for a moment to savor, my senses tame.

The lavendar and wool tempted me to prolong my slumber
While the essence of maple aroused me from my bed
My mouth watered over the memories of Mom's hotcakes and eggs
Yet the trip to the outhouse amidst shadows and snakes, I dread.

I shivered in the early morning chill yearning to sit by the fire
That Mom always had burning hot for breakfast in our vacation cabin
So I slipped on my robe and dashed out to greet the morning spirits
Who linger just after dawn, waiting to taunt me with great chagrin

Cold and ancient elements melded to form the stone
That rests atop a lonely mountain peak, a jutted steep incline
Impossible to cross on foot without a climber's rope
Winds sheer the rock face sculpting a jutted edge then a line
An evolving work of art stands on the mountain high on display
With my heart trapped deep inside that ancient rock.
I cry out to the universe to set my spirit free from this place.
To the gods I pray chisel my heart free from the stone.

My eyes grow weary and to sleep, I succumb
From me, the faded thoughts relent
The scent of Astoria still fresh in my mind
Though in the field I lay down, body spent 
Lobelia flowers cast their magic spell on my limbs
Sleep falls swiftly as I drift within the mist of dreams. 
The scent of Wisteria intoxicates  my senses
As the Mist moistens my chilling flesh.
Velvety blankets of Kilarney moss embrace me
As I rouse slowly from my herbal slumber.

The sunlight is filtered through the tall oak trees
Giants that rival the trees of Scarborough's Shire
At the meadows edge the tall shadowy figure lurks
Bent on knees against the moss laden ground.
Mused and startled both at the same time
My breath rises in cloudy vapors, my heart aligns
Restoring balance to my shivering scant clad frame.
  

   
   

My thoughts turn to you these days more often than I care to say. I remember all the good times that are mere faded memories now. I long for the laughter that we all shared back then as one big happy family. The days are long gone, the memories are fading and some of you have moved on to an eternal place that I only visit in dreams. Even knowing this, the longing does not lessen in my aching heart. I miss you Mom and Dad, Grandpap, Grandma, and all my Aunts and Uncles who were the center and heartbeat of my family in those years long ago. I reach for you and those memories when I need the strength of family bonds. The distance between now and those memories and eternity grows further with each passing year, so I reach higher and further until I find you. And there you all remain in the bosom of my heart, right where you left your love indelibly inscribed upon my heart.

The Midnight Writer

Sonya's silk stockings were torn from the ankle up. She got caught on some old wire fencing as she was running through the field. When she fell, Sonya barely felt any pain even though her knee hit a small rock. The blood was scant so she wiped it away and kept running. The night air was moist and quiet except for the sound of her hard panting breath. Sonya could feel them closing in on her so she sped up her pace, and her breathing.

The night was young so the moon was not yet risen. It's light filtered through the mist across the field creating eerie shadows that chilled Sonya's spine. She expected them to jump out from these ghostly specters at any second. Half way across the field, Sonya's knee began to throb. Needles shot up her leg into her lower spine that almost sent her reeling to the ground again. Knowing that they were closing in, Sonya did not succumb to either the pain or the fright of shadows.

  At night when the sun sets a new world appears. Magical spirits unveil their forms in faded moon or sunlight. They are shy and only show themselves to those who are daring enough to flirt with night’s portal, the doorway to other worlds. Walk to a vantage point safe enough from crashing waves to watch and wait. I like to choose a high point on a cliff so I can look down and far out onto the water but still see the sun, moon and stars in all their glory. As soon as the sun drops below the horizon the moon gives its farewell kiss as they pass each other in the heavens. It’s at this moment the doorway opens and all the magical spirits enter earth time and space to frolic in the shadows of night.

Summer Breeze flirting with the mysterious night spirits at the ocean’s edge. This is one of my secret places where I go to commune with God’s creation and to receive spiritual inspiration. There is only one other person who knows where this secret place is located, and that is my life and travel partner Cephas.

The Midnight Writer

-Plato, Symposium
 
Finding the source of this beautiful sentiment reminds me that poets are philosophers who access the immortal things of God and convey them in rhyme, reason, muse, romance and fantasy for others to consume. I feel inspired once again by all God's creation and I give humble thanks to my Heavenly Father Creator for giving me such a gift to use in mortality.
The Midnight Writer

There are hundreds of phone types, styles and brands so choosing one can be a major decision. If you are looking for a wireless/cordless phone to use at home with clear voice and a strong signal, consider buying a DECT phone. You will get the freedom to roam around the house and immediate area outside without the expense of using your cell phone at home. Several phones can use the same base unit and still maintain a stronger signal. Avoid the frustration of dropped signals and chat away.

The Midnight Writer

This policy is valid from 20 November 2008

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The advocate waits around a clipped unfortunate.

It is with a heavy heart that I write this today because I miss a little boy named Gabriel. Watching his brother Raven and his father Woodstock, a/k/a Loren David O'Connor, suffer through the pain of their loss while trying to make arrangements for his burial, memorial and wake is really hard. Gabriel Jaden Coates was with us for a short 3 years, 2 months and 2 days, yet he has made a profound impression on the hearts of people that will last forever. He left this earth to enter the spirit world on Sunday, May 24, 2009 at about 11 am. Gabriel fell into the water of the Antelope Creek, which was fast moving and deep. His body was recovered by very compassionate rescue workers about two hours later.

Woodstock, Raven, his friends and family are sort of moving in a state of unreal shock. Things need to get done. So we are helping in whatever way we can. Funds are urgently needed to buy the casket and to buy a plot where he will be laid to rest. Please spread the word and help in whatever way you can.

Please visit the dedication site for Gabriel at http://www.angelsforgabriel.org. News and information about his memorial, burial and wake will be posted on this blog. Lots of pictures will be loaded soon that I took of the gathering site where little Gabriel drowned. We took photos of the creek and the campsite where he laughed, played and enjoyed. There is a very spiritual picture on the site now that shows what we believe is Gabriel's spirit that appeared while Woodstock and I were standing by the stream talking about Gabriel, about what happened, about his life, about what to do now. It is then that we both felt his presence and a butterfly landed on Woodstock after that moment. I took a photo in the direction of where they found Gabriel's body in the water and that is where the column of light appeared. It was an intense, sad, happy, etherical time.

We will be assisting Woodstock with transferring of funds to the Funeral home when it is placed on the paypal in the amount we need. The general manager Chris Girdner at the Girdner Funeral Chapel is giving us until Tuesday at closing time to come up with the total for the casket. This is urgent. Other arrangements are being made and other funds are needed very much. Please email angelsforgabriel@gmail.com if you have questions or if you want to help in some way.

The Forest Service, the fire department, the Siskiyou county Sheriff's department, the Fish and Game dept. personnel, and the townspeople volunteers from Tennant were very gentle, kind, compassionate during the entire ordeal. We are all grateful to them for the way they handled this situation.

I have many things to write and memorial signs and brochures to make, and a website to update, so please help us facilitate this link being spread far and wide to get the funds together. Gabriel deserves a decent casket, memorial, burial and wake. Help us give him that much, please. Woodstock should not have to concern himself with money at a time like this. Right now we are all camping in our rigs while this is all taking place, so family please plug into this compassionate service.

Much love and blessings.
Summer Breeze on behalf of Woodstock, Raven, Gabriel & Raven and
Jazzy all his friends and family.

Have you ever encountered a lone tree standing in the midst of an open prairie or field? I have been mystified by this phenomena ever since I can remember.

I find a solitary tree standing amidst a pasture filled with grass and rocky mounds and ruts from cattle trampling through it to be just fascinating. When I first noticed the lone tree phenomenon I don’t rightly recall. I can tell you that it has been a noticeable mystery for many years to me.

Every time we set out on a journey and are driving along, I look for a lone tree that will captivate me once again with its’ stark loneliness calling out to for company. There are times when I say to my husband, hey, let’s go over and sit under that tree for a little while. Maybe the realization of grand mysteries to the universe might come to us if we just sit in its energy field for a little bit.

Have you ever seen movies that feature trees as symbols of wisdom or as places of eternal secrets and rejuvenation? What comes to mind first of all is the Tree of Life.

Lone trees remind of earthly objects that possess a rare kind of strength. Do they strike you with that impression?

I’m going to make an intention to find awesome representations of this lone tree phenomenon to share right here. I want to write some poetry and tell some stories about lone trees that I have encountered in my journeys or in literature.

The first feature in this “lone tree” feature will be about a giant redwood in the forests of Mount Shasta that stood about 215 feet high and had a diameter of 10 feet. We camped under it for some time and it had a mysterious energy that she shared with us. By this tree, we witnessed eagles fly and other mysteries that i’ll share in the feature post.

Will you share your photos and your stories about lone trees with us here on Midnight Revelry?

The Midnight Writer

Her form is beauty, hidden yet remotely revealed
As the shadows seek to cover her beautiful form
In silhouette she taunts me, luring me closer
I turn my head slowly wanting to catch a glimpse.
The shadows beckon, then halt my footsteps as I near
Tis only beauty formed by the mystery of night
A mirage playing tricks in the darkness on my eyes.
I canter a bit, and wave as if the shadow sees me
Retreating beyond the reach of unseen eyes.

Copyright The Midnight Writer

Does this evoke memories about times when you felt like the cat who has been caught in the fishbowl?

Life is not always simple and things are not always as they seem. People don't always do what you expect them to do. I'm guilty of surprising people by jumping out of character a few times in my life.

I think about these kinds of things late at night as I lay in bed, just pondering. This past couple of years, I've pondered life and my life in particular, a lot. My mind travels in retrospect to the years past with all the people who I've interacted with on one level or another. I found out I have some regrets so I'm trying to figure how to live all my todays so I won't have more regrets in my tomorrows.

Take this cat fishing in the family fishbowl, for instance. He'll probably snag a fish without getting caught. If the cat is hungry, he'll definitely enjoy it and no one will see him eat the goldfish. But tomorrow or next week or next year, the cat might think about that goldfish when his master gives him a treat. Do you suppose the cat has a conscience about what he did?