Sandbox Writing Challenge – The Door and Beyond

Enticing possibilities  is what Lady Calen gives to us from her wonderful realm, Impromptu Promptlings.  We are asked “What is behind this door that you want?”

Sandbox Door

Forget what’s behind the door. I want the door itself! That’s gorgeous. I love old wooden structures, and the hardware of the doorknob and the intricate carving on it and the plate! And the key which will open it, is surely one (no, make that TWO) of the fabulous old skeleton keys.

So I’m thinking, if I take the door off the hinges, I’ll get a look at what’s behind it, right? Then I can decide if what I thought was in it was worth all the breaking and entering LOL

Okay, so now that’s out of the way. Oddly the first thing I thought of when I imagined something behind the door I might want, was all the food I’m no longer able to eat. Weird, right? I just realized that all of the food that I LOVE is no longer on the available menu in my world.

I think I’m getting tired of having to come up with something I actually hunger for, to cook. Nothing seems to come to mind. Meanwhile, Q can eat whatever he wants. Of course, I have to cook it for him, so maybe, what I’d like to be behind that door is a cook! One to do all the drudgery of planning and making meals, not just for one, but for two people with two very different tastes in cuisine.

Yeah, that’s the ticket.

Now had I continued reading – a really bad habit I have, unfortunately – I’d have seen in the next part the suggestion:

Imagine having the key.

Geeze, here I was thinking that part two would be next week. Harumph.

What is stopping you from opening the door?

Well, two minutes later, and I’m answering a comment in my blog, and it hits me that what’s stopping me is the goblin mud!

So imagine this:
It’s 1998, and the Berkshires is a great place to spend a week, away from the maddening crowd. On the deep forested trails, I can walk between the various places.

Rowe Trail

This one takes me from the Great House (main meeting hall and dinning room), down through the path which passes Grandmother Tree. I stop and rest my hand on Her gnarled trunk, and give thanks to Her for listening as I pour out my thoughts to Her. The scent in the woods is piney, and the air is warm, yet shaded, and I feel lovely. My mind leisurely meanders between soaking up the sweet ambiance of the campus, and the myriad seminars which have brought me places in my world that are thought provoking, and gives me the opportunity to explore without having to necessarily be anywhere, unless I choose to be there.

Earlier in the morning, of the second day, we gather together as a Great Council, and listen as we’re guided to look into our hearts and think of that which is keeping us back from moving forward on our inner journey. In turn, each of us gets up and walks to the center of the room, kneeling down before two bowls. Instructed, I push my fingers into one, holding a rather large glop of mud. I close my eyes, and feel the way the gooey wet earth gloms onto me, bringing me to the sensation of how something in my life holds me, in a similar fashion from breaking free and doing what I need to do for myself, and my growth. Words begin to form from thoughts of the things which make me feel as stuck in my life, as my hands feel encased by the saturated soil. I hear the words floating out into the room, and sense that I’m not just speaking, but allowing shackles to open and set me free. I feel myself rising up, to full kneeling, and hear myself declaring, “Enough is enough of this goblin mud!” My arms rise, and I hear the sucking of the mud as I wrestle it to get away. Free finally, from it, I plunge my hands into a cool bath of water, and begin to wash the mud from my fingers, and the palm and the back of my hand. A sister hands me a clean towel when I’m finished, and I thankfully dry them. The room is filled with clapping, and encouraging words. As I stand, I walk slowly to a table and collect the special gifts for my medicine bundle. Returning to my seat, I feel sparklingly free.
Standing there, with Grandmother Tree, I have that rare moment of feeling that I could do this for the rest of my life. A week is just never enough.


Thinking that it is the Goblin Mud which keeps me back, I must figure out which part of me is the mud holding hostage. That’s the thing.

And so it goes, on and on.

A to Z Challenge – EBOLA

Day 5

April 6, 2016

The Quint essential Letter: E



In 1998 (or there abouts) I found a book, a true story of epic proportions. I remember my friend had called me as she was reading the book, and told me she was hiding under the bed, it had scared her so much.

I had a different reaction to the details. It fascinated me, even empassioned me. Had I followed a slightly different path in life, I might have gone to medical school, and specialized in Virology.

I bought every book on the subject that I could, and read them voraciously. In the events which took place, the carriers, and those who became infected with this filovirus, were monkeys. This was the kind of killer which was Far more infectious than AIDS… filoviruses (thread viruses) are relentless killer machines that consume a human body in days, causing a gruesome death. Symptoms include liquefying flesh, spurts of blood, black vomit and brain sludge. Outbreaks of the Ebola filovirus devasted Sudan and Zaire in 1976. And in 1989 Philippine monkeys in a Reston, Va., research lab, found to be infected with Ebola, were the target of a U.S. Army-led biohazard task force that decontaminated the lab, exterminating hundreds of monkeys to prevent the possible airborne spread of the disease to humans.” The author, Robert Preston wrote “In a horrifying and riveting report, portions of which appeared in the New Yorker Magazine, and exposes a real-life nightmare potentially as lethal as the fictive runaway germs in Michael Crichton’s The Andromeda Strain.” Preston plausibly argues that “…the emergence of AIDS, Ebola and other highly adaptable rain-forest viruses is a consequence of ecological ruin of the tropics.”

In the 21st Century, this nightmare became more real, and a greater threat for our species than can be imagined. It had spread to our species outside of its native stomping grounds in Zaire. Perhaps one of the oddest things over the past few years has been walking into the local offices of our medical building and seeing this sign:

Ebola in the US – E

Photo: CNN

Photo: WPIX

INFO: Wikipedia

A to Z Challenge – DANDIDOO

Day 4

April 5, 2016

The Quad Monster Letter – D


Dandidoo info

What? You’ve never heard of a Dandidoo? How odd. Well, let me tell you about them. They hail from what can be considred an Archipenligo.


It sort of looks like a galaxy, don’t you think?

Anyway, the Dandidoo was first discovered on Cold Island. See the white blob with a snow flake in a circle? That’s the place. As you can see, Water Island and Earth Island also became home to the Dandidoo. You know how cultures have been nomadic, and how their descendants sorta, kinda, happened to become part of each other? It’s something like that. Of course, as is noted above, Gold Island also can be host to the Dandidoo. It’s like a place where all good Dandidoos get to go when they grow up, assuming they don’t get eaten by a Wubbox! *shivers* That’s scary.

What is special about the Dandidoo is how pretty it’s song can be. Sometimes, all by itself, it might sound haunting, or it might be a happy addition to the music of the Island to which it is Native. Let me give you an example of these:

See? Cute.

But she doesn’t sing alone.


On Earth Island, she learns a whole different song:

I like to think of that as the mystery song. There’s a little bit of a somberness in her voice. Is she sad to be away from her original home? Maybe it’s the Quarrister which is scary.

Did you know there was also a RARE Dandidoo? Well there is.

Dandidoo Rare

Is this what you thought she’d look like? I never thought she’d look like this.

As you can see, the rare version is evocative of the idea that two heads are better than one. While the song remains the same, the money this particular breed will give far surpasses the lonely Dandidoo.

Here’s hoping that you have enjoyed your little sojourn into the wild world of things not of this earth.

Cya later, and have a Dandidoo day!


The Sandbox Writing Challenge – Stuporstitious

Mr. Quantum offered, “I’m not superstitious, I’m just afraid something bad is going to happen,” when I read The Sandbox Writing Challenge 34 — Superstitious! prompt to him. Lady Calen  wants us to imagine what we would be afraid of happening if we were superstitious, and the cute little black cat in the picture over at Impromptu Promptlings, walked across my path.

QUESTION: If you were superstitious, and this black cat crossed your path, what would you be afraid might happen?

Interestingly when I saw the word superstitious, my mind went to how I will take a deliberate dip in the pool of fears, when I’m afriad of something happening, but to stave of that reality, if I fret over it until I reach my destination, it will not have happened…

Case in point: When I lived in NYC, I had a fear (haven’t a clue why) that the house I lived in might have burned down when I arrived home, which I turned into some weird ritual to make sure that didn’t happen. I’d drive home, fearing what I might find, and breathed a sigh of relief when there were no fire trucks on the block when I arrived home.

SO, if that’s not superstitious behavior, I’m not sure I’m playing in  the right sandbox this week.

When I look at that kitty, I just want to take it home, and snuggle with  it, and hear happy purrs floating up into the air.

I know there are several such things that people are superstitious about, which fit the black cat situation. Things like, not stepping on a crack so you don’t break your mother’s back – Talk about weird. Or, the one about walking under a ladder??? I have no idea other than getting konked on the head by falling equiptment, why anyone would be superstitious there.

Maybe I’d be afriad, with the black cat, that he’d get spooked by my crossing his path, and run out into the street and get hit by a car. See what I’m saying?

Maybe it’s all about the fact that each person’s superstitions don’t fit neatly into some previous version of that malady?

My mind goes to, what’s a superstition anyway? It’s just a fear. Maybe my fear of having a panic attack is superstitious? Or, is a superstition based in bogus thinking; things that really can’t happen, but we believe they can?

Maybe TBC (you know, for the review).

P.S. Just read that part that Lord Drollery offered, and I’m ROTFL.

The Monday Music Medicine Show – Words and Music

The Monday Music Medicine Show LOGO

Welcome to the Monday Music Medicine Show – THE 42!

There was a time when I would use music to write stories and poetry. Even when I journaled, for a short time, back in the early years of Y2K, I would put on songs and see what part of my day came through to me in the tune. The ability of music to create a mood was very helpful when I would sit down to write.

This piece, as seems to be the norm for many things in my playlist, was found in an episode of a show I was watching.

Close your eyes when you click play and listen, then write about what comes to your mind while listening. What images do you see? What story does it tell?

So my beautiful Monday Music Medicine Show friends, if it pleases you to play, share with us: A piece of music which takes you on a journey. This will allow those of us listening to see where that music take them. We can have a musical story swap meet.

You know I want to hear it! Share it there (your own blog with a ping back), or share it here.

BYOM and  remember: It Don’t Mean A Thing If You Don’t Send That PING!

Music is the Medicine in my Soul and I hope yours is as healing and nurturing as mine!

Singing Smiley

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