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"Meditation was a great way to increase my awareness around what was going on inside my mind." When I first heard the word meditation, I felt weirdly uncomfortable. Then, I began to feel interested in it. I asked my husband 'how does a person meditate?' I asked him because he meditated often and without any trouble whatsoever. I listened more closely to the sermons in my church about meditation. Soon I learned to think about my problems. I pictured Bible stories like Samson and Delilah, David and Goliath and The Israelites and Egypt in my head. God seemed to fit the stories to my modern day life. I began to smile a little bit while the struggle was still happening. Lately, I have a short attention span. So I haven't been meditating. Therefore, at times my troubles grow bigger and bigger, and I scream with anxiety. Kira Lynne's writings about meditation are helping me want to pull back into that inner world where God fights every battle, where I know the

I have been underwater with Cab, Vicki and other characters. It's been fascinating. Because of this novel, Cab's Lantern, I want to protect our oceans and learn more about them. Until reading this novel, I didn't know about the barracuda. I only knew about the big, bad shark. I also liked the mystery of the story. There is a lantern light. It never goes out. Why is the big question. I also liked learning about the main character's past. His failures and the strength to travel new directions in his life. Oddly, I didn't care much about Phil and his vendetta. Perhaps, I was too focused on the relationship between Cab and Vicki. Also, I didn't believe a person could really hug a barracuda. This scene lacked reality, I thought. I am looking forward to reading the next book in the series, I hope. cabslantern.com

I fear the times are becoming harder for my people. Now death's reality has set in, it is hardened, crystallized, not all the way but a little more than yesterday. Because their loved ones are no longer coming home for dinner. They are no longer hearing the bathroom door close or hear the slam of a car door. They're spouses, parents, relatives and friends are gone. The days are long and the nights longer. I wish for the days of Lazarus. When Christ walked the earth and could hurry back to open the graves. Death is the enemy. Death is the only one who dares not to hear the screams of protesters. Death is the one without a heart. What alley does it run through? I suppose death flies faster than an eagle. It seems indestructible. Today, the eagle has the victory. No! As we come together, "reason together," because this will happen in time, our hope for a binding love between people in the United States, no matter our differences, it will happen. Perhaps, not until th

 All of you know I love books whether new or old. A couple of days ago, I think Friday, I took this novel down from my bookshelf. I was looking for Six Easy Pieces by Walter Mosley. I did find it. Then, I rediscovered this fat novel titled Man Gone Down by Michael Thomas. While Walter Mosley is a well known and favorite author of mine, I know nothing about Michael Thomas except the blurbs on the inside of his book and on the outside of it. So I riffled through the pages and came back to the dedications on the front pages. What greeted my eyes? Music. I had to look up to the Heavens and say a soft thank you God . He's always there giving tiny blessings and serentipitous thoughts. The musical thought spoke to me because during these turbulent days I've heard the Chief of Police, David O. Brown , the people and other leaders like President O'bama say the word "love."  Sometimes that one word, a very significant word, can seem trite or overused. Not during this w

I was surprised to find Samuel Taylor Coleridge's famous poem in the pages of Cab's Lantern by Jeff Russell. It is a tiny excerpt. It kinda fits my feelings this morning. I am really enjoying this adventure with Vicki, Cab and the other characters. "The Rime of the Ancient Mariner" 'The many men, so beautiful! And they all dead did lie: And a thousand thousand slimy things Lived on; and so did I.'

  No matter who is at fault because someone is going to be blamed whether it's the police department or the victim my heart breaks for the loss of another Black male. Here is another family prematurely broken apart with a gun or guns involved. I wanted to write about the Louisiana incident. I tried to find a poem to fit my feelings for the family. However, I found nothing except the place I like to go in times of pain, the ocean. Lo and behold, I found Sylvia Plath there too. The Rabbit Catcher  It was a place of force— The wind gagging my mouth with my own blown...hair, Tearing off my voice, and the sea Blinding me with its lights, the lives of the dead Unreeling in it, spreading like oil. Then, another poem  by Sylvia Plath spoke to me. The title of the poem bumped me all the way back to the Fifties. From someone or from many and somewhere I read the words of Thalidomide. wiki/Thalidomide In a new and awful and unexpected way it brought its form of anguish in the worl

Maybe the similarity is not there. However, this woman's need for an office in Alice Munro's story, The Office,  reminded me of Virginia Woolf's novella, A Room Of Her Own. However, my mind focused on this Mr. Malley in the short story. He tells long stories to the lady to whom he rents the office. I wonder who is more complicated as a person. The writer she is complicated. Also complicated is the man, Mr. Malley, who deeply desires to write, he feels his stories are interesting, but I don't know if he will put his words on paper. I've heard once a story is spoken there is no need to write it. It's been told. I am the wannabe person. Nothing is so frightening as white, blank paper especially a long sheet of paper. I wish for the days when we wrote four and five page letters to friends and relatives. I remember writing my Grandmother and my Uncle. I had to write short thank you notes to relatives who sent me gifts.  I also can still see my mother patiently w