See It to Believe It

by Sara on May 15, 2012

photo by sara b. healy

We’re HERE! It’s odd because the current temperature is around 75 degrees Fahrenheit as I write this. If not for the huge mountains still wearing snow, I could almost believe I was at the beach:~)

Last night I woke to a light in the window. When I pulled the curtain back, a bright yellow moon was sitting above the mountains. That’s not something this Florida girl sees very often.

Instead of blabbing on and on, I decided to use this post as a picture post. I will say, however, the pictures can’t do justice to what my eyes see.

They will, however, give you an idea of how huge the Alps are and how lovely their craggy faces are, but in this case, you really do need to SEE it to believe it.

Here’s a sampling of what my new camera sees when it is cooperating:

photo by sara b. healy

This is the view from our bedroom window.

photo by sara b. healy

Here’s the view from our apartment balcony. The building below is a Swiss school.

photo by sara b. healy

The ski lift seen from my favorite meadow, which I visit every day. It makes me feel like Julie Andrews:~)

photo by sara b. healy

  This view is looking down from the meadow.

Usually by the time we leave, my favorite meadow is full of wild flowers and tall scratchy grass that begs the child in me to roll down the hill. I know better. The cows with their bells also frequent the meadow:~)

Back from Break

I know it’s been ages since I’ve posted. I’ve missed blogging, but sometimes LIFE just gets in the way. Traveling overseas can require a lot of planning, especially when you’ll be gone for over a month.

Now that we’re here, however, I’m hoping to post on Tuesdays, depending on travel and internet services. I’ll also be out visiting, but that will also depend on the internet:~)

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Break Time

by Sara on April 18, 2012

photo by sara b. healy

If birds can do it, I can do it.

Everyone deserves to take a break now and then. It’s my turn.

I haven’t been a very good blogger buddy lately.

I’ve been slow to visit and slow to get posts up.

That’s a sign.
It’s time.

I’m not giving a list of 25 reasons why I should take a break.

I’m just saying it short and sweet…

I’m taking a break
For goodness sake!

It’s just a temporary time away. I’ll be back soon:~)

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Picture Story: What is it?

by Sara on April 11, 2012

what am I?

I took this picture in 2008 in Switzerland.

Soon, we’re going back to the land of tall-regal mountains, flower-filled meadows and cautious-climbs that take your breath away.

I mean climbs that literally take your breath, like you can’t catch your breath for ages, your heart feels like it’s going to bounce out of your body and your legs are screaming “STOP, did you forget you’re from FLAT Florida?”

Enough of that; let’s move on to the challenges….

Your Creative Challenge: What is it?

  1. Is it an animal, an alien, an artistic anomaly, or possibly an android? By the way, you don’t have to stick with the letter “a.” I was just having fun:~)
  2. If it could talk, what’s the first word it would say to you?
  3. Where did it come from? (Switzerland doesn’t count!)
  4. What’s its favorite thing to do?

This challenge is for those who want to exercise their creativity and imagination. The answer to the Quickie Challenge is only acceptable if you make it into something that’s a fiction of your mind.

Quickie Challenge:

This challenge is for those who are busy and need to comment quickly. Don’t worry, you won’t hurt my feelings…too much:~)

What is this really a picture of? Here’s your hint:

I have no head, and a tail I lack,
But oft have arms, and legs, and a back;
I inhabit the palace, the tavern, the cot-
‘Tis a beggarly residence where I am not.
If a monarch were present (I tell you no fable),
I still should be placed at the head of the table.

Source: I couldn’t find the author for this riddle, but here’s the site.

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Center of the Soul

by Sara on April 3, 2012

photo illustration by sara b. healy

“It doesn’t interest me what you do for a living. I want to know what you ache for, and if you dare to dream of meeting your heart’s longing. I want to know what sustains you from the inside when all else falls away.” excerpt from a poem by Oriah Mountain Dreamer

This isn’t a post to solicit your comments; it’s one to engage your soul.

There’s a place deep inside us all, at the center of our souls. It holds the seeds of our dreams…

Those things we’re passionate about
Those things we ache for
Those things that sustain us

Go to this place inside you.

Open the doors wide and bear witness to your dreams.

What are you passionate about in this life?
What would you be like if you trusted your dreams?
What gets you up when life knocks you down?

Don’t rush; take your time

Let these questions sink into you, like ripening seeds. Water them, give them sun and see what grows. Be patient with yourself. There’s plenty of time.

As you become aware of your passions — your “heart’s longings” — write them down. Read them aloud to yourself over and over again. Hear their power.

Don’t be shy. Tell others about your passions. The more you speak of them; the more you let them come alive inside you. It’s your silence that smothers them.

Hear them.
Believe in them.
Trust them.

Most importantly, don’t deny that you have them! Everyone does. We are ALL passionate souls and our passions are unique to us.

Our dreams and passions will never leave us, unless we choose to leave them.

*     *     *     *     *     *     *

Thank You

I want to thank Emily Hanlon. I recently took a spiritual workshop with her, which provided the spark for this post. It was an interesting experience, one that opened doors inside of me.

I also want to thank Oriah Mountain Dreamer. Check out her site, learn how she got her name and read more of her wisdom. Also, read the full version of The Invitation, from which the quote at the beginning of this post comes from.

Last, but not least. Enjoy the following music by David Lanz. Find a comfortable spot, take a deep breath and reflect on what’s in the center of your soul.

YouTube Preview Image

 

 

 

 

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Fiction Friday: The End

by Sara on March 30, 2012

photo illustration by sara b. healy

Smoke stung her eyes and nose. She put a piece of torn cloth over her nose and tied in behind her head. It would have to do, but with the oil and gasses, she knew it wouldn’t last long.

In the thick black sky, flames shot up into the air, seeking escape. Carcasses of burned vehicles were everywhere, including fire trucks and ambulances. People ran past her with their hands covering their ears. She heard only silence; her eardrums had burst from the first explosions.

They had been so powerful, windows and walls fell inward, like invisible hands pushed them. It looked like a movie scene. She’d hoped it was a movie scene, but another explosion had lifted and tossed her outside, leaving her crumpled under the burning trees.

She didn’t remember getting to the street, but somehow she had. People wandered about. Some dazed, like her, while others screamed. She couldn’t hear them, but her eyes watched their contorted mouths open as they ran.

She kept walking, trying to escape the putrid smell of burning bodies. In the distance, more explosions burst, like orange-red flowers. In her mind, the line from Dante played over and over again, “Abandon all hope, ye who enter here.”

This truly was hell and she didn’t know how to get out of it or even how deep it went. People passed her, but no one stopped, even though she reached out to them. Huge asphalt cracks opened up before her. She almost fell, but managed to make her way around them.

Tired and wanting rest, the endless heat drove her on. She hurried through an alley. Broken glass tore her bare feet. She ignored the pain; there was nothing she could do about it. Across her mind a thought flickered. This is “The End.”

They’d talked about “The End” for years, but no one had really believed it. Those who spoke of it were considered doomsayers and crazies. She didn’t know what had happened, but to her eyes, this looked exactly like they’d depicted it. Fear nibbled at her heart, making it stutter, but she pushed on.

Out of the alley, she walked to the one building still standing. It was made of old stone. While it had crumbled in places and smoke billowed from it, she climbed the steps anyway. They were worn down by age and green with algae and moss, but they cooled her feet. It was a hard climb and her breathing was ragged when she reached the top.

As she caught her breath, she stared at the thick wooden door. It was open, smoldering and hanging askew. Above the door was a stone plaque. Carved into it was one word, Bibliotheca. She looked in. Burning papers were blowing everywhere. In other places, books were ablaze. A red fire extinguisher lay on its side, obviously dead.

She stepped inside and almost tripped over a burning book. Using the cloth from her face, she put out the flames. Reaching down, she picked it up. It burned her fingers. She dropped the book. It fell open.

Most of the pages were blackened and unreadable, but when she squatted down, one half-burned page still had writing on it. Her eyes read the words, absorbing them. Then, she spoke them, even though she couldn’t hear. Her throat hurt with the effort, but she needed to do it.

“There will always be dark times, but when people join together sharing hope and wisdom, their spirits will ignite and lead them out of the darkness.”

She looked up and saw a small group of bedraggled people emerging from the smoke. They beckoned to her. All were covered in black soot and some obviously injured. But they smiled at her. She smiled back, even though her burned skin stretched in pain.

They were the survivors; already at the task of joining together and finding strength in the human bond. She stood and walked towards them. As she did, she thought, “It’s not the end. We’re alive. Together, we will survive this darkness!”

*     *     *     *     *

This is based on a prompt from Liz of The Writing Reader: Write a scene about a character’s reaction to a crisis. It fit a story I had started working on for another site’s prompt, but couldn’t finish. Thanks to Liz, I completed it. It’s definitely not my usual fare, but I hope you enjoyed it.

NOTE:  I’m not a believer in doomsday prophecies, but I am a believer in hope and the ability of people to survive crises, whatever they may be.

{ 28 comments }

Gossip!

by Sara on March 22, 2012

photo by sara b. healy

Hey, you sitting in that pool chair.
It’s me. Sheila, the parrot…over here.
Yeah, I’m talking to you!
Parrots can talk, you know.
Come closer.
Don’t worry. I don’t bite.
People get their pictures taken with me, right?
Well, I learned some shocking news at our latest photo shoot.
I can’t stand it. I have to tell someone.
I’m not usually a gossip, but this is just too good.
It’s gonna shock you to the core.
Bend your head so I can whisper in your ear….
Did you know…..?

The Photo Challenge

Share the “gossip” this little parrot needs to tell. Keep your comments to 65 words or less.

You’re welcome to continue this as a dialogue or just write what the parrot wants to gossip about. Is it about a person or another parrot? What happened and why is it so shocking to the parrot?

Use your imagination! Create whatever comes to mind. Most of all, have fun with this:~)

Quickie Challenge

How do you feel about gossip? Is it bad, good or somewhere in between?

 

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Liar Liar Pants on Fire

by Sara on March 16, 2012

illustration by The Big Book of Art

Henry was finally meeting Angie, but it wasn’t his choice. He stared at her picture at the online dating site. She was a beauty with long dark brown hair and warm “melt in your mouth” chocolate eyes. I love looking at her.

They’d been writing and texting each other for a couple of weeks. He kept putting off meeting her, but she convinced him by inviting him to a book signing by Michael Connelly, his favorite mystery writer. He couldn’t resist.

He glanced in the mirror on the bathroom door. He’d dressed casually – blue jeans, a loose white shirt and boots. While his jeans were hemmed, the shirt cuffs almost covered his hands. He sighed. I hate being short!

Henry had curly black hair and indigo blue eyes. Everyone said he was attractive, except for the fact he was five feet and four and one half inches tall and that was with his lifts in.

A co-worker, John, was an experienced online dater. He told Henry women looking for men online didn’t like short men. “Don’t say your real height! Everyone cheats about this. Hey, my picture was before I went bald. Once they get to know you, they don’t care!”

So, Henry faked his picture. His friend George was good with Photoshop. With a few clicks and adjustments, he made Henry took taller. It looked real. But  he also had to lie about how tall he was in the stats section of his profile. Liar, liar pants on fire!

The fake picture got him lots of winks, views and emails. He didn’t think about the ramifications of his lies until he met Angie. Not only was she pretty, but they had so much in common. They both loved cats, dark humor, mystery books, Hitchcock and 1950’s music.

Henry stood on his tiptoes and straightened his shoulders, making himself as tall as he could. The man in the mirror did the same. I’m a cheat, but what choice did I have?

He stepped away from the mirror. With slumped shoulders, he looked at Angie’s latest text. “We meet F2F 2Nite! SYS, :-) It made him smile. She likes me! I know it! But will she like the short me?

The clock struck seven o’clock. It was time to go. The drive was uneventful, except for the butterflies tap-dancing in his stomach. He found a parking space, walked to Angie house and rang the doorbell.

Angie spoke through the door. “Henry, is that you?”

“Angie, what’s going on? You ready to go?”

“Well, no. I sort of had an accident today.”

“Are you okay? I can hardly hear you.”

The door cracked open, but Henry still couldn’t see Angie. “I’m okay, but my hair isn’t. It’s a long story.”

“I’m willing to listen.”

“Oh, Henry, I was stupid. I was watching my sister’s little kids and fell asleep. They decided to play beauty shop. They cut off my hair!”  On the word “hair,” Angie voice squeaked.

“It can’t be that bad Angie. Let me see.”

The door opened, exposing Angie. Henry gasped. She looked like someone from Night of the Living Dead, only worse. Parts of her brown hair were totally cut off, while others hung at choppy angles. Her mascara had run and created dark smudges under her eyes. She stared at him, waiting.

“Well, it’s definitely creative, but….” Seeing Angie’s eyes made Henry stop his attempt at levity. This wasn’t the time, “I’m sorry about your hair, Angie.”

Angie sniffed. Tears shined in her eyes. She rubbed her arms. “My sister’s taking me to her stylist tomorrow. I hope she can do something.” Angie shredded a Kleenex. It joined the others on the floor.

She looked so miserable; Henry stepped inside, pulling her into a hug. She had to lean down to rest her head on his shoulder. He patted her back and let her cry. After a few minutes, she spoke so softly he almost didn’t hear her.

“Can we stay here instead of going out? Please!”

The butterflies danced the Tango. She’s not cancelling! 

He managed to speak calmly. “Sure. We’ll order pizza and watch a movie. They’re playing a Hitchcock one on the WOLD channel.”

Turned out WOLD was showing a marathon of Hitchcock movies. They watched all their favorites. Angie was so upset about her hair; she didn’t even notice Henry was short. They laughed. They talked. Eventually, they kissed.

A year later, Henry asked Angie if she would have gone out with him if she’d known in advance how tall he was.

She blushed, hemmed and hawed for a minute. Took a sip of tea, bit her lip and finally said. “No, Henry, I probably wouldn’t have.” Seeing him frown, she added with a big grin, “but I’m really glad I did.”

*    *    *    *    *

This fiction story is written for The Writing Reader and is based on the following prompt:  Write a scene about someone who cheats. What is the inner monologue that the person goes through to rationalize the cheating?

For those of you who enjoy good writing prompts, check out The Writing Reader. Liz comes up with some really creative ideas.

{ 36 comments }

Photo Challenge: Name the Animal

by Sara on March 12, 2012

photo by sara b. healy

I live in Florida, USA. We have some unusual animals in our state.

We even have our own Bigfoot. He’s called the Skunk Ape. I’m not sure how fond I am of having a Skunk Ape as one of our unusual animals, but the pictures tell the story. Also, according to those who’ve gotten close enough to snap a picture, so does the nose.

You never know when a new animal will emerge from the one of our swamps. As a serious photographer, I make it my mission to seek and find the odd, strange and unique.

Therefore, when I discovered this animal on a golf course, I took his picture. So far, no one has been able to identify him.

Your challenge: Be the Zoologist

You’ve been asked to study this new animal and then answer the following questions.

  1. What kind of animal is he? Is it a mammal, bird, fish, reptile, amphibian, invertebrate or invent your own?
  2. What name would give him? I’m not talking about Harry or Mary. I mean an animal name, like the Skunk Ape.
  3. What unusual things should we know about this new animal? Hint: Be creative, but I’m not sure you can beat the “skunk” ape:~)

Extra credit

Write about the order, genus and the family of this new creature similar to Wikipedia’s description of an alligator:

“An alligator is a crocodilian (order) in the genus Alligator of the family Alligatoridae.”

Remember This

Photo Challenges are meant to be silly and fun. Enjoy making things up:~)

 

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X Marks The Spot

by Sara on March 6, 2012

photo by sara b. healy

One day I stepped outside and looked up. There it was. A giant X filled the sky. The first thing I thought of was “X marks the spot.”

We’ve all said this at one time or another. But what does it actually mean? I looked it up at The Idiom Site.

X marks the spot:
A phrase that is said when someone finds something he/she has been looking for.

Okay, it’s time to share it.

  • When did you last say “X marks the spot?”
  • What did you find? I’m thinking more metaphysically, but feel free to tell us about finding someTHING you’d lost and suddenly found.
  • What would you like a giant “X”  to mark, making it easier for you to find?

None of the above?

You can’t come up with anything related to “X marks the spot?”  That’s okay; try this question on for size:

Why do jets leave white trails in the sky?  If you don’t know, guess and be creative:~)

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Red Writing Hood: Mystery Man

by Sara on March 1, 2012

This week’s Write on Edge prompt was to use this line as our opening line of a 500-word story: “It was a rainy night in Dusseldorf…”

I chose to write a fiction piece, but in the process, learned a lot of nonfiction about Dusseldorf!

 

“It was a rainy night in Dusseldorf when we met the man who saved the church.”

These words began Sissy’s letter. I smiled. Of my four sisters, she was the most dramatic, but my favorite. She and John were on their wedding trip.

I missed her desperately and eagerly awaited her letters. Sitting at the window seat where the light was better, my eyes strained to read Sissy’s penmanship.

“We had stopped at St Lambertus Basilica, even though it was night. Thunder crashed around us, spooking the cab horses. Emmie, I was scared, but determined not to show it. In the rain and lightning, the church was spooky with its tall Gothic tower, but you know me and churches. Even if I don’t deserve to be in them, I can’t resist them.”

Laughing at Sissy’s words, I didn’t hear Sara bring my tea. The closing door startled me, but I didn’t touch the tea.

“Looking at the church, I saw a man standing in the rain. Lightning lit the sky, giving me a clear view of him. He was tall and muscular, but not a gentleman given his dress. That didn’t stop him from staring straight at me! His stare was so direct, Emmie, I shivered even though I was wearing the warm rabbit coat John gave me.”

As if I was with Sissy, I shivered, tucking my shawl tighter, before continuing.

“The man boldly stepped up to the cab door and implored John to leave immediately. He said lightening was going to strike the church! In the light of the cab’s oil-lamp, I saw his eyes were as dark as the night sky. They held me in a trance. Oh, Emmie, he looked deliciously dangerous! His untied black hair flew about his face as he told John I was in danger and to take me away! John puffed up, declaring the man a fool and a rude one at that, but he banged on the roof for the cabbie to drive on. Through the back window, I watched the man disappear.”

I sipped my cold tea. The cup rattled as I put it down. Sissy’s letter beckoned me back.

“We made it safely to the hotel, but my story doesn’t end there. The next day as we breakfasted on the terrace, John spotted the article in the paper. Lightning had indeed struck the church, starting a fire! No one could find the church key. The town locksmith, Josef Wimmer, unlocked the door and saved the church. There was a drawing of Mr. Wimmer. He was the same man we’d seen in the rain!”

Sissy’s last words were crammed in the paper’s margin. I struggled to read them.

“John and I stared at each other. I asked how this man had known lightning would strike the church. John had no answer. Emmie, do you suppose he knew of the future? Well, we’ll never know, but it is a good mystery, don’t you think? We leave for Egypt soon. — Sissy.”

*     *     *     *

While I made some creative changes, this fiction story is loosely based on a true event in Dusseldorf.

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