The Sound of Silence

Applause. That is the sound of silence this season. From the accolades of film critics and audiences to the approval of introverts across the land, the truth is, that silence seems to be golden in 2012.

Two films nominated for multiple Academy Awards this season reflect on the artistry of the silent age of films. Hugo and The Artist each detail man’s journey through the ever changing world of film, yet from different perspectives. Don’t worry-no spoilers here. While Hugo’s narrative style reveals the sense of mourning for a bygone age, The Artist clever adaptation of the silent film genre offers the viewer the thrill of storytelling through the lens.

With each, we find the importance of actions. In each, actions speak louder than words. (What a concept for those of us who write!)

Consider then, the cover story by TIME magazine, this week, which profiles those who are introverts. Citing that while we exist as a society that has become a culture of personality, those who are introverts have so much more to offer than our media-mad culture would have us think.

Introverts may be more quiet, yet their silence might actually indicate a tendency to process more information, to make better thought out decisions, and an ability to perform tasks independently. All of this may mean that the introverts are the ones we want on to be stranded on an island with...raft construction, engineering concepts, and broader categories for conversation when engaged in one-on-one discussions.

So, I suggest we all strive to find a bit of quiet time and just enjoy the solace of silence...

The opening line of Max Ehermann’s poem, “Desiderata” says it best, “Go placidly amidst the noise and haste, and remember what peace there may be in silence.”

Greetings of the New Year to All!

The ribbons strewn, the paper shredded, and the boxes are piled high, ready to be stashed for another year, until we celebrate the winter holidays once more.

For some the new year means a new beginning. For others, it means the second half of the fiscal year, or the school year is about to begin. And for some it means an end to what may have been a stressful year. Whichever suits our needs, the fact is, 2012 marks a transition in our lives.

For me, transition means I begin to look to the beginning of the spring-season-to-come. Having finished a rough draft, and three shows, I will turn my attention to the shows yet to come, as well as the revisions, and brainstorming that comes when I consider another story.

The yule season marks a restful period. In some ways, I agree. There is a quiet sense to the world at the beginning of January, almost as if we have inhaled deeply, and now are gently exhaling, allowing everything to wash over us before we begin once more.

Even in slumber, however, our minds are active~anticipating the exuberance of the season to come. Spring, new life, warmth of spirit, renewed energy.

Rest well in this quiet time. Line up your dreams and get ready to hit the ground running! Happy New Year to all!

It's the most wonderful time of the year! Traffic jams, crowded malls, stress, deadlines, pressure to get the right gift, pressure to not max out the credit cards...see where I'm going with this???

And in the middle of all this joy, we contend with the ever popular self-righteous proclamation that we MUST not say Happy Holidays because it is Christmas.

Bah Humbug.

Hold on to your hymnals~This is as politically incorrect as I can be in 2011. The fact is that "holidays" is derived from the phrase Holy Days, and refers to feast days and prayer days as they were observed in the early Church. Period.

Now, as to the whole Christmas versus other religious holidays. Besides Kwansaa, Christmas (orginally Christ's Mass) is one of the youngest holidays. Hanukkah is much older that Christmas. Yule much older than Christmas. And don't get me started on the rituals that Christians adopted from poly-theistic civilizations to facilitate the infiltration of Christianity into the cultures.

The fact is that this season is filled with traditions that are holy to all. I don't care who says Merry Christmas, or Happy Hanukkah, or Season's Greetings. ALL ARE GOOD. The nay-sayers to insist that this YULE must be addressed with Merry Christmas are being rather exclusive...sort of like the Sneeches who had "stars upon thars" (read Dr. Seuss); they are not playing nicely. Feel free to take your Christmas balls and go home.

So, to all, I say~ May your holidays be bright, cheerful, reflective, warm, and filled with laughter and love, and fond memories as you look to a new year. May this season bring a smile to your face and a song to your heart.

Autumn is the most fabulous time of the year. Everything is crisp, and an sense of something about to happen lingers in the air.
Smoke, fog, suspense, and the scent of suspense all conspire to make October evenings exhilerating.

That being said, something wickedly wonderful is about to happen. October 28 the questions we all want the answer to might just be answered. Did Shakespeare write all those scripts?

The trailer suggests, “we have all been played,” and that might just be the best tag line of the season. The movie asserts that the Earl of Oxford wrote the plays, not our favorite Stratford boy, that W. S. was merely used as a pawn in a game of Rulers, realms, and political intrigue.

The possibility gives new meaning to the phrase “who dunnit?”

Personally, I cannot wait! As a fan of everything Shakespearean, I don’t care who wrote the plays, I just love the language, the period, and--of course--the mystery!

Spring Cleaning

Well, it is that time, again~ we clean out our closets, we sweep the stoop, we start looking at the yard and envisioning trips to the nursery and hardware store! It is spring. What are you purging, philosophically speaking?
This year, my spring cleaning is an introspective one as well as a utilitarian one (gotta get ready for graduation week). Boxes of old notebooks scribbled in a fourth-graders hand will eventually depart the house, very much like the eighteen year old who once penned them...
And so, too, will I turn toward my next journey. For nearly a lifetime, I have focused on home and family, on the security of routine. However, with the shift of seasons this year, I am ready to turn my attention to my own new adventures. A new boss, a new story, a new approach to life, all are the markers for this leg of my path. If I am wise, I will be able to cast away old fears, insecurities, and bad habits, and find a more industrious approach to embracing my dreams.
Someone recently told me that once one commits to a dream, it becomes a reality. I doubted that at first, but have in the past few days realized the truth in it. Even in my past. My father once said that I had achieved many of my dreams; I nay-sayed him, and he reminded me that I had wanted a children's library (I then became a paraprofessional librarian in a school); that I had wanted to have a children's theatre ( I'm a drama instructor); and that I had wanted to see the world (travel industry professional for 14 years). He was right. I had managed to make my dreams reality. I had committed.
So...now I must commit to my next series of dreams. I wanted to write a book (I've written five). Now I want to move on to the next stage in publishing; I want to continue to travel; and I have a great desire to become a student once more.
Ooh, perhaps I shouldn't be so hasty about getting rid of those notebooks...

Autumn has arrived! While some see this season as a time for slowing down, it is a season filled with energy. The air is crisp, sunsets golden, and in only a few days Diana Peterfreund's new book Ascendant hits the shelves.

As you all know, I love mythology, fantasy, and a good story with a medieval twist. Back for a second tale, is Astrid Llewellyn, a young woman with a mind of her own, who is not afraid to be herself. Previously, readers were introduced to the ancient and very secret order of young unicorn hunters who, for hundreds of years, protected the world from the not-so-fluffy single-horned creatures. Trust me, these are not the soft, cuddly creatures won at the carnival midway. In Ascendant, Astrid continues to struggle with her commitment to the cause, as well as her commitment to do what's right. Along the way, she struggles with the balance between science and nature, well-meaning activists, and the personal choices that so many young women must make-career, school, romance, family, and which weapon also earns points as an accessory.

I thoroughly enjoyed the first book, Rampant, and I have to admit, Ascendant is even more thrilling. The story weaves a tale as rich as the tapestries that hang in the ancient Italian abbey where the story begins.

I desperately don't want to give anything away, yet I can tell you I was completely engrossed in this story; so much so, I read it in two sittings! Mystery, romance, fantasy all conspire to keep readers turning pages. Appropriate for young adults, the heroine appeals to anyone who is young at heart...Astrid is ageless.

Ascendant hits bookstores on October 1.

       With the strains of  "It's a Small World" still playing in my head from my stroll through the park last night, I registered for the writer's convention, procured my packet and tote bag, and sat down to schmooze.  Within five minutes, I found myself being introduced to a writer from~of all places~Paducah, KY (located halfway between Possum Trot and Monkey's Eyebrow).  Well, after the guffaws and hugs, we sat down to a proper chat. After all, its not everyday, one meets somebody from one's hometown.  

  

     Having said that, so often, I find myself face-to-face with people whom I know, or who are part of that whole six-degrees-of-separation phenomena.   My husband is cursed (or blessed) with it.  We've been strolling in NYC, and have heard his name called; have been in line at Universal, and have run into co-workers.   A few months ago, someone read his name and immediately asked, "Do you have a brother named 'soandso'?"  This man had made  a connection between my husband and his brother.  In New Jersey.

We live 1500 miles from New Jersey.  

I was once in an airport out west, when I heard a familiar voice, and turned around to see a former coworker.  She was there with a tour.  I was there catching a connection.  Even more bizarre...the woman had grown up near my mom  (once again, hundreds of miles from where we lived).  

Stranded in Wales, doing research for a book, I ran into a road construction worker to lent me his phone to call home to the states.  I turned out this guy's mother who lived in northern England, was also an historical novelist.  Go figure.  After I spoke to my husband, the construction worker called up his mom and we had a fine chat.    

      

      We once stopped for gas at a hole-in-the-wall station in Mississippi, only to run into my parents~who are not from Mississippi.   They had stopped for gas, too.   Seriously.

Oh, the stories I could tell!

        Consider just how small the world is.  Walt got it right, somehow, all those years ago.  As did my husband's grandfather when he told his kids, "Remember, no matter where you go, there will always be someone who knows who you are."  In this age of Face book, Twitter, Blogspot, and Skype, it seems we are making the world ever smaller. 

So...talk to me.  How many of you have run into someone you know in the most unlikely places?  Have you found yourself in the 3rd, 4th, or 6th degree of separation?  What cosmic quirks have you experienced?