Finally-Sans Peur et Sans Reproche-Our Promo

It is very, very hard for us to promote our own work. We have no problem promoting, reviewing, even raving about the works of others. Nothing makes us feel better! But to promote our own work? We go into a flurry of embarrassment and our almost innate drive to be invisible. No, we are not ashamed of what we write, or paint, but we have always been fearful to be seen and heard as paradoxically, we fight for ourselves and others to be seen and heard. Ahhh–the dilemma. But now we will dare! It is time. So please read and take our promo pitch to heart for our latest book, Letters, for this time it is truly sans peur et sans reproche.

In this time of covid19, self isolation, and social distancing, Letters reflects how we can all still connect. Letter writing in itself is healing. How often do we say, “Oh, if I had only said this…” or “I should have said that when I had the chance…”. This book does that with letters written to those that have influenced the journey of the authors’ lives and taught lessons along the way. Many are poignant, some humorous, some angry at injustices, but all express human emotion and truth from the perspective of the writer(s). Often things can be written that are hard to say aloud to the one you admire, love, who has been an inspiration– or words that are bottled up in indignation that would not come verbally. Letters covers the full spectrum, from one end to the other. Why should you read it? Because it is an interactive book, unique in that at the end of each letter written is the opportunity and space for you, the reader, to write your own letter to mirror your reading. It is the reader’s chance to put pen to paper and say what was never said. In stressing what was learned from each one written to–be it animal or human, present or past–a life journey was influenced.

This author was diagnosed with DID (Dissociative Identity Disorder) and the letters are signposts, red flags, and banners of sustaining hope that lend themselves to learning how the DID came about and allowed love and survival to triumph.

Read Letters. Think about the people in your life’s journey and all they taught you, good and bad. Reflect on your choices. Then write your letters. We are not alone, any of us, even in this time of isolation and separation. Everyone influences everyone else. Reflection in reading Letters could surprise you that these people or animals come to mind. Connect.

Thank you for reading…and be assured there will be another book of letters to come.

You can order at Amazon.com, author Judy Kukuruza. Or easily go to the link: amzn.to/3eGRuRV.

Feel free to rate and review!

As the title says, Sans peur et sans reproche– without fear and without reproach. From the heart.

#26 Just WHO is the Alien?

“Did you hear that?”

“No, what?”

“That HUMAN!

“No, I don’t often listen to them, just observe.”

“Well, that human just used one of our words and claimed it just came to her in a dream or vision or whatever! The nerve! To steal one of our words…and then claim it! I tell you, they are beyond fathoming! Always taking credit for what we do, what words we have, the knowledge we bestow claiming it is THEIRS!”

“Yeah, yeah, I know. Don’t be going spronkers on me, now, please. You know this happens all the time. I told you to stick to natural beings, didn’t I? Like the animals–the four footed ones–or the natural elements. I warned you and yet you take it so…so…as the humans say–personally. They can’t help it, really, you know. They cannot entertain original thoughts or ideas.”

“But to claim it as their own! And of all our fantastic words–she chooses spronk? It’s just more than I can deal with. Why not the great words from the great minds that were our mentors? Like uzrik? Or prisk? Those words can change a world! They carry depth and meaning and she is delighted with spronk? Humans are so limited and underdeveloped!”

“I know, I know. And right now, they have little to do but dream what they call their “quarantine dreams,” and let us filter our thoughts into theirs. Why did you plant spronk into her dreams? You detest that word!”

“I don’t know. Well…maybe she heard me calling her and her species spronks over and over.”

“And why did you do that?”

“I was full of uzrik at how non-discerning they are! True, I lowered myself to their level by childishly calling their species spronks, but nothing would get through of any portent! It is as if they have two, maybe three thoughts that are malleable and the rest are like random atoms bouncing around in a vast infinity of empty space!”

“Sadly, I understand the depth of uzrik and your desire to fill the human mind with prisk, but you know we can only do what we can. Some are beginning to see that their world has actually become better, their animal life more prolific since they have been forced to stay indoors, afraid of spreading the virus they call Covid19. Such an odd name for the carrier of death and destruction…hmmmm. Nevertheless, some of their species see what they have wrought on their own planet. But their ability to rise from base instincts to logical and scientific explanations seems to escape them. And actually, if they weren’t so attached to things like–what do they call them? Cars? Planes? Their bartering papers? Yes, I remember, money. Everything is at their disposal if they could explore with their minds and not their desire to attain all those symbols. Remember we used to be similar to them.”

“True, I guess. But it didn’t take us as long as it is taking them to evolve. If it weren’t for this wave of a microbe forcing them to stop and look at what is important…well…who knows if they would not have blown parts of their planet toward ours, loaded with radiation and disposable chemicals? And are they going to learn from this? Watching, I have to wonder. I am ready to leave and report back. I see them as hopeless. Shall we go?”

“I suppose we should…but…”

“But what? They will annihilate themselves and we will simply come back to salvage what is useful to our planet. We are through here.”

“There is something that pulls me to learn from them. Something that…though lacking in logic and reasoning, scientific exploration and the understanding they lack… Have you seen their gestures? Their norts? Really looked into them?”

“Such things do not interest me. I have all the data required. Let’s transport and be gone.”

“Wait. I have looked into their norts. I have seen them overflow with moisture. I have watched their gestures. They reach towards each other–a hand will extend and they remember they cannot touch–and their norts overflow with the moisture. What is it that makes this happen? Why do the humans need to touch so? I’ve watched the young ones do what they call hugging of their parent figures, and of others. I’ve seen them sit with the animals and they communicate with touch as well as with their minds. What is this? What makes them smile with listening to music? Or having a young one hug them? I have seen sole survival turn into this thing they call caring for one outside themselves. True, they may not have great brain capacity, but there is something they have that we lack. I want to understand and quantify this, discover just what it is. Aren’t you curious at all?”

“No. A spronk is a spronk. They have nothing I desire to learn from them. Oh, and I know what they call this display of moisture and the touching and such. They call it kum-pass-yun or luv. Makes no logical sense. None at all. Can we go now?”

“Just in a moment. Hmmmm…my mind bank says it is compassion–to deeply care for another, and love which comes from their Greek forbears and it is simply reduced to also caring more for another than self. Interesting. Even those who cannot hear and use gestures to communicate have a symbol for love. They cross their arms over their chest. Like this–it feels good. Try it. But wait. One more thing. Come into my space.”

“Whatever for? This is not logical. But if I do enter your space, then can we leave?”

“Yes. Come. Just stand in front of me. I want to experience the hug.”

The one alien hugged the other and slowly…slowly, the other alien hugged the one in return. Both stood looking at each other in awe. Slowly they smiled, ever so slightly, at each other.

“I liked that.”

“So did I. Let us stay awhile longer to learn from these spronks. I think we will understand why they have survived this long. Agreed?”

They nodded to each other.

“Should we quit the hug now?”

“Maybe…in awhile…”

#25 Spronk

From sunrise to sunset, the mind can be occupied with crossword puzzles, electronic games, going outside, coming inside, etc. For instance, we can go out and beckon the crows and even the small birds that hop around on the grass to keep one eye on us, the other looking for something to grab and fly off with. But the crows? They caw at us, swoop, letting us know they know we are out, and then lighting on a lamp post or the mailbox to turn and caw out, “Still watching?” And we drink our coffee and we do watch. But from dusk, then the darkness, we may go out briefly, but then go back in to read, watch TV, and the mind wonders and wanders. We come up with some really cool topics to blog about after we reach a certain place behind our shuttered eyelids. Sometimes we come up with a whole novel, novella, essay in that land of words. Some are funny, some are depressing, some are just plain weird! Like last night and early this morning before the dawn. Our dreams, if you can call this mind meandering a dream, kept throwing out the word “spronk.” Now, we have command of a pretty large vocabulary, but spronk? It began to bug us, so we got up, turned on the light, got out the Oxford dictionary and the Webster dictionary and guess what? There is no such word! Ta Da! We had a new word–coined or whatever–and we broke it down where it could be a noun, a verb, an adjective…really anything we wanted it to be. Next, in our foggy state after crawling back into bed, we started making up sentences using it. And you know what? It could be and is one cool word. We’ll share our word with you because we just know Webster will pick up on it, it is that good.

SPRONK (n.) He/she is a spronk. Individual with limited capacity for intelligent and deductive thinking. (v.) The man spronked around trying to appear he knew what he was doing to any watchers. (adj.) People are given to presenting a facade when in fact they are lame, spronking individuals. (expletive) Dumb spronker.

When we got up with the sun, spronk was still playing with our thoughts. We met our friend in another city neither of us was too familiar with, distanced, wore masks, ordered take-out, and sat in our individual cars to chat and eat–safely distanced. It was a frustrating experience as we so wanted the forbidden human touch contact– a hug, squeeze of a hand–you know. And the word spronk popped up in our head when we were talking with her. We talked about those that we had both experienced in this time of safe distancing at grocery stores when necessary trips had to be made. How some would not wear a mask, not observe distancing, and be less than nice about running you over in line or in an aisle. Yeah, real spronks. We were both dismayed, angered by their lack of caring and awareness of the virus that surrounds us all. A true spronk is truly a threat to us all and themselves. We talked of Darwin’s natural selection and were sad that some gene pools can breed the idiots much faster than those who can think can reproduce. Again, the word spronk flitted through our thoughts. But the conversation was good, encouraging, a meeting of the minds, and we sadly waved good-bye to each other as we parted in our individual cars. Alone in our car on the way home, we kept thinking, “Stupid spronkers are going to make this last longer and kill us all while their lame spronking saves their miserable lives because their DNA is as spronked as their minds!” We also added other well known words but there is no need to repeat them here.

We got home, removed our mask, and the man across the street caught our attention. We saw he was trying to mow his lawn with an old worn out power lawn mower. His literally pulling on his hair looked like it might be fun to watch so we sat down on the front porch in the shade and proceeded to play observer. A single crow cawed at us, flew up to perch on the the lamp post, and watched with us. Now this guy was a true spronk in every sense of the word. We knew this was going to be good so we settled in. The guy started the mower and made two swaths across his front yard. The mower bogged, choked, and quit. He tried to restart it with no luck. Mentally, we are telling him, “First check your gas level. Then the oil. Then look under the mower.” He did none of these things. Instead, the spronk wrestled the grass catcher off the back of the mower, looked at it, and shook out a little grass into his waiting garbage bin. Now we are laughing. Mentally, we repeat, “Check your gas, then…” but he already had the mower tipped up and looking under it. Okay. Jump right in–spronk. He kicked the underside with his boot and we could hear some words, but we couldn’t make them out–no matter. His son had come out to see what was happening and by his motions we could tell he wanted the boy to try to start the mower–While he was looking under it! At this point, we pulled our cell phone out of our pocket so we could dial 911 if he chopped his spronking head off in this little escapade. The boy was not big enough to get a good pull on the rope (thank the universe) and retreated into the house. The mower was now lying on its side and we could see the grass packed around and on the blades. The temptation was to yell, “Clean your blades, then the grass packed around them.” But just as we were getting ready to yell, he looked up, saw us looking at him, and slammed the mower back into an upright position. The spronk, who had been spronking around with the mower, was trying to look “good” and proceeded to shove the non-running lawn mower toward his open garage door. Well, so much for mowing the grass. Then he came out with a weed eater. He watched us, we watched him, and he weed whacked his whole front lawn. We just smiled. And we knew why we had thought of the word spronk during the night and early morning.

It was foretold for us to coin the word spronk. It was one of those things just meant to be. That’s why we are so sure Webster’s will add it to their dictionary. We mean, seriously–what better word to describe the people we talked about with our friend and the scene we had just witnessed across the street? So if you need a word, we will let you share and use it. You have to admit–it really is one cool word and no one can get mad at you for using it because they won’t understand what it means. Boy oh boy! Can’t wait to close our eyes tonight! We hope the next word is as cool!

#24 “If I had a hammer…”

We used to sing that song, over and over. Then we’d sing “Sounds of Silence” over and over. Of course, included would be “Yellow Submarine.” Peter, Paul, and Mary. Simon and Garfunkel. The Beatles. Songs we loved, love now, and can sing word for word. They meant a lot to us, in the days of protest and being sure to be heard. And they worked! So many songs that spoke to the young, to the adventurous, to the ones who wanted and brought about change. Oh, how we laugh now, when we remember the dad grumbling about “…darn kids don’t appreciate good music! And the way they dress! No style, no class, long hair…disgusting! Turn it off!” And we pretty much felt the same way about his music, his favorite singers. But we had headphones and would bellow out our songs off key as the music filled our ears and head.

Now? Well, it’s a whole lot of years between then and now. We had kids and they played their music and the only music of theirs we objected to was the heavy metal sometimes. We would ask, “What are the words? Can’t figure out the words.” Our kids would laugh and keep dancing and enjoying and we would just shrug and enjoy the pounding beat. But we didn’t protest their music as ours had been protested. No, music is music, and we can go from one genre to another without much problem.

We look back, pull up youtube to listen to all kinds of music, and escape now as we did when younger. But sometimes…in a silly or capricious mood…we change the words to fit us now. We had a good laugh the other day while singing and changing the lyrics to “If I had a hammer…” Yep, if I had a hammer now, I would have to sing–“If I had a hammer… I’d bash my fingers flat as a nail… I’d hammer holes in the wall…all over the room… I’d hammer out furniture, I’d hammer out wiring, I’d hammer out curse word, to all my fellow humans, all over the land…” How times change, right? (Where’s the band-aids?)

Then I would sing “Sounds of Silence.” “Hello darkness, my old friend. I’ve come to take a nap again…” Yes, times change. But “Yellow Submarine”? Oh, yeah! That one we rarely change and never when we’ve toked up. Yes! “We all live in a yellow submarine, yellow submarine, yellow submarine…” We wish! But fun to imagine, right? Some songs never need to be altered nor the circumstances under which we bellow along with them. They just fit then and they fit now…right?

One more we neglected to mention by Simon and Garfunkel–“Feelin’ Groovy.” In these days of isolation, what could be more appropriate? “Hello lamppost, whatcha knowin’? I’ve come to watch your flowers growin’. Ain’t you got no rhymes for me? Doo-it-ta doo doo–feelin’ groovy…” The only thing that would be weird is if the lamppost answered. Of course there’s always the possibility… 🙂

#23 Rhymes

“Jack be nimble

Jack be quick

Jack jumped over the candlestick.”

(And singed all the hair off his legs.)

As a kid, this last line HAD to be added, giggled over, shouted out with glee. Now, however, with time no longer pertinent, and a wandering mind, there are points to be pondered. Agreed?

  1. Who the heck is Jack? the one that went up the hill with Jill? We know he took a bad bump. Hmmmm…
  2. Why did Jack have to be quick to jump over a candlestick? Was it moving? Taller than him? A flame throwing candle?
  3. Well, we know he made it over. Is this like a participation trophy where you get recognized for jumping over a candlestick? Did he sign up for this? Was he recruited? Did he have to try out to be able to do it?
  4. The last line added by kids who twist rhymes around–If Jack’s legs were hairy enough to singe the hair off them by jumping a candlestick, how old was Jack? Where was the glory in this feat? Was he a swimmer and needed the hair gone anyway and to burn it off was easier than shaving it? It would be funny to see, admittedly, but did it just burn the hair off and not burn his skin?
  5. Finally, who was watching to write this rhyme? And WHY?

See where the mind can go? Anybody know who should be given credit for this perplexing rhyme taught to children from the time they can be verbal? Thank the heavens it wasn’t “Peter Piper picked a pack of pickled peppers…” That one really boggles the mind!

This evening I’ll take on “Little Boy Blue.” That one has some real depth. Wish me luck!

#22 Mark a Heart

Stories of goodness come across as the fight goes on to stay at home, wear face masks, battle depression and fear, and of course Covid19. We don’t know when we have a sore throat, a persistent cough, a headache, a low grade fever if we are at risk of having the virus or spreading it. Yet, we keep on keeping on. Others have come up with online games, have participated in chats via the internet, and even if we don’t participate, it offers hope that others are making it. Now, we would like to suggest something to help us to help ourselves and others. It is the act of consciously Marking a Heart.

The premise is simple. A three year old can do it. A ninety year old and beyond can do it. The rules are few but the rewards for doing it are immeasurable. It can be done for the strongest person you know, or the one you fear for in their weakness. Try it.

MARK A HEART:

  1. return a text with the question “How are you and yours doing?”
  2. admit any frustrations but always say “we know you and we are in this together”
  3. try to say ” I miss you and how you always bring a smile to my face”
  4. point out “you are so good at… can’t wait to be with you again”
  5. tell them about a dream, something you noticed that you wouldn’t have otherwise and share it with them
  6. Always wait for a response and throw out that heart emoji whether a response comes or not

We all mark hearts. Mark someone’s with caring, thinking of them as you go outside yourself and think of them. It may be no one else will, but you can. Nothing makes someone feel less alone than another asking simply “You Okay?”

Simple. You may not be able to hug, see their face light up because you texted, but there just might be a little light in their eyes as they reach for hope again and feel cared about and cared for. So go through your contacts. Text. Let someone know you thought of them. Then they may be there to see you when this passes. And you feel better because you realize you aren’t alone either.

Stay safe. Mark a heart. Peace and Love.

#21 Responding…

Annis’ blog on finding your own voice as a writer, and Natalia’s blog on being prepared with a plan and go-bag are the subjects of this blog of ours today. They may not seem related, but we will attempt to show how to us–right now– they are inextricably linked–again, to us.

On finding your writing voice, Annis is absolutely point on. When one finds that voice it is YOURS. Just as you recognize the writing voice of an oft-read writer, your voice, too, becomes recognizable to those who read what you pen. Yes, as she noted, you can try a different or new way of writing, but your voice will be heard, sooner or later, as you slide into the realm of integrity in your written words. Ergo–you cannot hide. No anonymity. Your voice comes through. Be warned. Your perceptions, your truths, are “out there.” Personal experience validates this. You will be able to offer sincere comfort, light-hearted humor (in our case usually sarcastic), your anger, frustrations, core values and morals. Some will read your voice/writing and will appreciate it whether they agree or disagree, while others will condemn and reject it. That’s the price/reward for writing in your voice. Let it be said again, Annis’ blog was point on.

Natalia wrote about having a PLAN in these current times with a go-bag at the ready to meet basic needs if you’re suddenly displaced for any reason. Her writing helped us think about what we would NEED, just in case. Are we prepared? Could we survive with a go-bag–or like her, a small wagon with stuff needed for survival? We have no fur-babies any longer, no other humans to plan for, but we do need to plan and prepare for just us. Because of personal health issues that occur unexpectedly for our body, certain things would be necessities. These things can happen whether in a situation such as what goes on currently in our nation, that we as a people face, or when things seem “normal” or routine. One of our go-bag items–even overnight items–is a notebook and pen or pencil. If we should “forget”, we are known to write on receipts and/or paper towels, etc. However, we rarely forget those essentials. It is SMART to read Natalia’s blog and ACT on it. Being forced to suddenly evacuate or strike out for survival is not an extreme or far-fetched idea. Remember the not so long ago “run” on toilet paper when corvid19 was finally acknowledeged as reality with quarantines? This is reality now. So yes, everyone should follow her advice and prepare. We have. It does not create anxiety or paranoia but rather self-confidence and a sense of comfort knowing we have it covered.

So how do these blogs become linked? At least, for us? Simply put: TRUTH +SURVIVAL PREPAREDNESS = REALITY.

If you dare to speak your truth in your voice, you may need to go into survival mode. Grab your go-bag and hide out for speaking/writing the truth. Speaking out against what you see as religious hypocrisy, the “church”, the government–uh-oh. Standing up for LGBTQ rights and dignity, minorities, women, children abused and/or in cages, the homeless–uh-oh. Writing in your voice can necessitate a go-bag. Scientists, morally upright folks, real Christians, heroes that speak out in ALL facets of life are disparaged, bullied, receive death threats. Add an earthquake, flood, hurricane, drought to the mix and…we think you get it.

It takes guts to speak out, pen those words that others don’t want to read/hear or refuse to read/hear. With the turmoil, disinformation, confusion, death that surrounds us all, we have to be ready to flee if we are to survive to write another day in the future. Hence, since many of our blogs tend to offend or cause discomfort–as people degenerate into blaming, name-calling, verbal ridicule and chiding–our go-bag is packed and read to be grabbed as it sits by the door and we head out that door. Why not just be quiet, you may ask? Because we believe every voice counts, even ours.

THAT is our response to two beautifully written blogs that mean so much to us. Good-bye.

#20 To Do List for Tomorrow

Having no idea how many days of quarantine have elapsed, the need to get organized with an actual to-do list should be uppermost—right? (BTW anyone know what day of the week it is?) So here is the to-do list for tomorrow since today is shot–somewhere–somehow…

  1. Get up by 7 (probably)
  2. Make bed (Hmmm, maybe save that for the next day)
  3. Shower (Yeah, clean clothes and bod would be good, probably–pending)
  4. Coffee–definitely Pot after pot after pot
  5. Tall glass of milk to counteract coffee after first pot
  6. Go sit on front porch and see who comes out in neighborhood
  7. IF anyone comes out, yell hi and wave — if not, watch grass grow
  8. Go to side of house to visit lizard friend made–talk, inquire as to his health
  9. Scroll FB, twitter, emails until battery gets dangerously low
  10. Go inside and charge phone
  11. Check date and time on computer
  12. Turn on news with another glass of milk to soothe stomach
  13. Sit on unmade bed, think about turning off news
  14. Go outside when phone up to 50%charge
  15. Check in with people who care–see what they are doing
  16. Check in with friends with pets–check on pets
  17. Run down battery scrolling again
  18. In house to make another pot of coffee and charge battery on phone
  19. Time to eat for third time–actual meal this time
  20. News? No, running low on milk
  21. Read for hour or two with music on
  22. Think about list for next day
  23. Write–add thoughts in journal or wherever
  24. Self introspection on what learned in seven decades (short list there)
  25. Tell jokes to crows outside
  26. Nap time? Nah–go tell crows more jokes
  27. Watch sun and clouds
  28. Predict weather for next five days
  29. More coffee
  30. Play a game on tablet
  31. Walk to edge of yard to see who is essential and went to work because car is gone
  32. Think about tomorrow’s bed-making
  33. Eat again
  34. Check computer again to make sure it is still the same day
  35. Watch the sun go down and say goodnight to the crows
  36. Go binge watch Netflix and fall asleep hopefully
  37. Dream of waking up and making bed

Boy! Tomorrow will be busy! Yay!

#19 Evolution of Words

Words evolve as cultures and societies use them to express their feelings, all of them. This will be a short blog as it only concerns one word that we used to find amusing, that made us smile at its irony, and now has evolved into one of causing us to shake our heads in somber reflection. Our particular take on the word and its evolution in our mind has taken place in a matter of weeks that seem to span a lifetime when in reality, it can be confined to just days. So, as not to offend, know that this word is not “nice” and you can quit reading right here. (our disclaimer)

When we reached the chronological age to apply for Social Security and Medicare, along with the numerous offerings of supplemental health coverage, we started filling out papers, going online, making phone calls. Having had to manipulate our way through the “system” at times in our lives, we hunkered down, determined to do it once again. Yes, it was frustrating and time consuming and no one seemed to have a short, concise answer to any questions we had–or even recommendations as to how we should proceed. And the government handbook on these topics? Oh! Our aching head! Friends, watching and hearing our tale for the day at trying to maneuver the system, would smile, sadly, and offer, “Yeah, I hear ya!” So when we finally were signed up, not entirely confident after all of it, we laughed, hesitantly, and said, “Yep! It was a clusterfuck. ” It brought a smile to our face, a little humor into traversing the incompetency of those we had to communicate with in the system, and in calling “official” offices–the numerous times we were on hold or transferred from one incompetent person to another. BUT WE DID IT! And we still maintain, it was a total clusterfuck! We do hope you didn’t have to go through what we did! And will not in the future. Yes, the word made us smile in wry and ironic humor–then. It was doable. Better to laugh than cry, right?

But now, as we are home-bound to protect others and ourselves from an insidious virus…? We read, we watch professionals that are supposed to know what they are doing and many who do not. We see lying, profiteering, and an attitude of hey–everybody dies from something. Of course, that often comes from those who have access to testing, medical care, etc. We see others who are fearful, anxious and rightly so, pain, and not knowing anything for sure. Governors have stepped up, some of them, and beautiful stories of compassion and love for humankind rise to make all of us feel hope. We see heroic workers, putting their lives on the line to work in grocery stores, to mop hospital floors, intubate the sick and dying, crying at the lack of supplies and equipment, but still carrying on! The List is too long to thank all of our heroes protecting us and helping all of us. And then we worry about those who are following another who says, “Come to church. Pack the places! God will protect you!” and wonder how many will die from being infected. Now that, friends, is a gigantic CLUSTERFUCK! It does NOT make us smile, in any way, shape or form! And if we break the word down into two words, it is even more appropriate now. No one knows what to believe and when it becomes partisan, social class oriented, believers (?) v. non-believers–what do we do?

WE STAY HOME! WE DON’T ADD TO THE CLUSTER OR THE FUCK! We protect our loved ones by not hugging, touching, lest we unknowingly infect them. THIS has been proven to work! It hurts because humans love to touch, hug, comfort physically. But it can kill right now. In short, reader, do not–DO NOT BE PART OF A CLUSTERFUCK! Show love to others and yourselves. That’s the only way we can come out of this. Love you all and missing you, but we believe when this clusterfuck is over, we will be a kinder, more loving world. And maybe we will all be wiser and more appreciative of each other. Peace and Love.

#18 Kindred Spirits

The four children slid off the back of the White Horse. They looked around, noticing the trees, the tall grass, and then looked at each other. “Are we safe now?” Little One asked of Tessie, the one the White Horse protected. Tessie didn’t answer immediately, turning instead to look into the eyes of the White Horse. Returning her gaze, he nodded his large head.

“Yes, we are safe now,” Tessie said with confidence. Little One slumped down to sit in the grass, relieved, Tessie joining her. They leaned toward each other, bumping shoulders, smiling. The other two children, a boy named Nuff, and one called Jeffy, saw the two girls at ease and ran towards the trees. “Bet I can climb higher than you!” Nuff shouted, grabbing a lower limb and starting upward. “Oh no you can’t, you dweeb!” Jeffy yelled back, laughing as he climbed up higher in another tree. The girls, ages 6 and 7, laughed and teased the boys. Nuff, himself seven, scampered higher and higher up in the branches. Jeffy, being nine, had height on Nuff, as well as longer legs and laughed as he looked down at his younger counterpart, now below him. “Give it up,” Jeffy taunted the younger boy. Nuff responded by moving higher in his chosen tree. “Never!” he grunted as his foot slipped off a branch and he had to catch himself to keep from falling. Jeffy laughed again, Nuff got red-faced, and Tessie called out suddenly, “Guys! Something is coming! Come here! Hurry!”

Both boys dropped to the ground, hearing the urgency in Tessie’s voice and saw she and Little One standing by the White Horse, who was now facing the direction they had just come from. No one spoke, but the children moved closer to each other, presenting a unified front. Tessie reached up and placed her hand on the White Horse’s neck. “What is it?” she whispered to the White Horse. He stood still, staring, the muscles in his legs twitching at different times. No one spoke, but all looked where the White Horse looked, straining to see something, anything. Their ears were trying to discern some noise, some clue to what was coming. Then they heard a muffled, soft clip-clop, slowly getting louder and seemingly nearer. All their eyes could faintly see was a cloud of dust that seemed to grow in size. Nuff whispered to Jeffy, “Should we run, ya think?” Jeffy, who considered himself a protector since he was the oldest, shrugged and moved toward the horse’s head and Tessie. “Hey, Tess,” he whispered, “ask White Horse do we need to run, okay?” Tessie didn’t answer, but the horse turned his large head so he could look Jeffy in the eyes. Jeffy didn’t move, but the horse briefly tossed his head, which Tessie interpreted and said, “No. He doesn’t think so. He isn’t running so we shouldn’t either.” All eyes focused forward again.

Shapes began to form in the dust cloud that now covered everything. The White Horse did not move, nor did the children beside him. All stood quietly, ready for whatever. Slowly, the children’s eyes widened. The White Horse tossed his head. It was a massive herd of horses approaching them! Deer, moose, antelopes, wolves, bears, and other animals were mixed into the ever-growing cloud. Little One squealed in delight, pointing to the sky! Crows, falcons, eagles, hawks, so many birds seemed to fly over the herd of animals, escorting them! Nuff and Jeffy jumped up and down in wonder and excitement. Tessie leaned against the White Horse, tears flowing as she smiled and nuzzled her wet face into his shoulder.

“What does it mean?” Jeffy asked with wonder. No one answered him, but Tessie waved her arm over the scene and suddenly they understood. A black stallion pulled up short in front of the White Horse. Much neighing, pawing of hooves on the ground, head tossing was seen between the two. Then the White Horse lowered himself to the ground. Tessie spoke, “Come on. He wants us to get on. I’ll explain later, so hurry up. Get on!”

The children scampered up on the White Horse’s large back and he stood and they were flying towards the tops of the hills. All the animals followed, never wavering, pushing on behind the White Horse who now led them with the Black. They ran and ran, children amazingly not bounced off , but wisely hanging on to each other and the White Horse’s mane. It seemed they were running into the sunset. Then the animals, as well as their leaders, slowed as the dusky skies gathered about them. Just before the darkness settled in, they all slowed to a stop. Some started to graze, others bedded down. The White Horse lowered himself for the children to get off, still wondering, full of questions–full of awesome wonder at what had happened. Tessie and Jeffy started a fire as the night brought a chill. So amazing had their ride been that even Nuff didn’t ask for food or complain. Tessie moved to look into the White Horse’s eyes.

They stared intently at each other, with Tessie sometimes smiling, sometimes nodding. The other children knew she was communicating with the White Horse, finding out what had happened, and hopefully, what was to come. They waited, quietly, knowing soon they would know from her. Finally, Tessie went up to the White Horse’s broad forehead, kissed him, whispered words to him, and came to where the other children sat by the fire. “We are special,” she said softly. “Really special. We are allowed to stay with the animals, to be a part of them. Few humans are allowed–but we are,” and her love and happiness washed over all.

“What did he tell you?” Jeffy asked quietly. Tessie took Little One’s hand as she sat beside her and suddenly, Little One had that same look of love and happiness. “We are good and accepted,” Little One said, almost in a whisper. The two boys sat watching and waiting, not moving at all. “He told me that now that the sickness has come to the people, the animals can thrive once more, mother earth and her oceans can breathe once more. He told me that here, where we are now, this place, is SAFE and we are all safe. But want to know what is most beautiful? He said us and few like us are now kindred spirits!” Nuff let out a muffled, “WOW! ” then, “Like we are one of them and they are one of us?” Tessie nodded, Little One looked like she was in heaven and Jeffy just grinned and grinned, silent for once in his overwhelming joy.

Tessie went on, “They will care for us and we will care for them. The White Horse said this is how it was meant to be in the beginning, but people were killing them off, hurting the land, and…well, now, it is back to how it should be!” The children grinned, smiled, tears of joy ran down their faces. Then Jeffy seemed worried. “What if they come with their guns? Do it again like they have before? How can we stop them? How!” Little One smiled a knowing smile. “They can’t. Not now. Not yet. And by the time the sickness leaves, the earth, the waters, the kindred spirits of the animals and the birds will have grown stronger, braver, and loads smarter. And he said there are others, like us, kindred spirits. So we will be with them and all of us together will make it right! Peace for everyone! Love for all the kindred spirits!”

Nuff ran up to Little One, hugged her. Tessie hugged Nuff and Little One. Jeffy hugged everyone as he kept saying, “Cool! Oh, cool! This is soooo cool!” The White Horse watched them, neighed softly and nuzzled them each , pushing them down gently to rest. One would have thought they were in a fairy-tale, gazing at four children, holding hands as they slept with a white horse and a black horse watching over them, crows and hawks and other birds in the branches above them, watching also. A wolf thanked the heavens for all as he bayed. Dreams of kindred spirits filled the little heads.

The universe replied with stars to light the sky and whispered, “Kindred spirits all.” And the world slept in peace.