Mustang, Outer Banks.

 

Love this one. Taken on film back in the day. Love to see them in the wild too. Hope your day's going well...I had a tough one...but I'll bounce back. I always have, and so I will again. :)

C.A. MacConnell

Heron.

 

Good morning. Just sharing this guy. Not sure where I fit in these days. It's strange. I admit that I feel somewhat lost, alone, and afraid, but I've also built a lot of strength in other areas; it's an odd combo...I flip back and forth somewhat. Some days, I feel newer, stronger, more positive, and more peaceful than ever before. Other days, I fall back a little. I suppose that comes with newness and change within. I've been through a lot since last year, and it has forever changed me.

A lot of the change has to do with setting boundaries...I'm learning about it, and I'm putting it into practice, and it's rather uncomfortable, but it's eye-opening as well...I don't like learning about this at all, ha, but I'm doing it, because as life unfolds, that seems to be one of the strong lessons lately.

Growing. :) It's a bitch sometimes. Ha. <3

I need to find a quiet place in nature to meditate today. I think that'll help give me some inspiration, peace, and perspective. Direction, aye. One thing I plan on...to move through it all with grace and integrity...keep doing what's in front of me...let the rest unfold.

Whatever life challenges you may be facing...I hope that your day brings you some smiles, laughter, and love.

Just making some coffee. Although I've worked in many coffee shops (even in Seattle), and I've made a gazillion fancy drinks, and I've even roasted beans, I use a Mr. Coffee, I drink Seattle's Best, and I only have drip coffee or Americanos every now and then. I like to keep it as a treat, ha...

C.A. MacConnell

More.

 

C.A. MacConnell

I just read this, and it hit home for me, so I thought I'd share. Quote is not mine; it was taken from "A Conscious Rethink": "Change is going to come whether we want it or not. We have no choice in the matter. What we can choose to do is embrace that change and move with it, allow ourselves to grow and evolve with life instead of fighting against it. The good news is that there are a lot of people out there in the world who will bring a lot to your life, as you will to theirs. You just have to keep moving toward them." -- That about hit it with me tonight. Love to you.

Photo, and Some Thoughts.

 

Good morning. What I'm thinking about upon waking, ha. Shakespeare always purposely ended his comedies with music, a dance. Perhaps in the end, the song or dance indeed comes together, and the result may seem to make complete sense, but between music notes and between the dancers, and as for the way they connect, there rests a great mystery; this "in between" connection is unexplainable. As a whole, the combination of separate parts may seem to create something that is complete, but in between the notes or dancers (or in between the lines of a poem, or in between a great painting's brush strokes, if you will), there rests something undeniably unexplainable, and so therein lives true art, which is mysterious and divine. To me, great art caters to the mystery...it brings alive "the unknown;" that is, it leaves gaps, so that the viewer or listener can fill them in...it never "tells" you how to feel. Rather, it merely suggests and allows you to have a unique experience, just as the being we call "God" would.

C.A. MacConnell

PS, ha, no, I'm not calling my photo great art, lol. Just posted it b/c I like that tree. LOL.

Photo

 

Look close. :)

C.A. MacConnell

Privilege

Maybe I'll listen to stories from the deep
cell block. Maybe I'll hear the clock wheeze,

and I'll wonder how much time. Maybe I'll search
for the perfect hat. Maybe I'll scan the endless

rows of whole milk, mopping random spills.
Maybe I'll drive to the white squirrel, the lone

buck, and the eagle. Maybe I'll hornet-fly
to Nevada; I’ll dance in the desert that I call

home. Maybe I’ll write to you. Maybe I’ll sing
to an empty room. Somewhere, out there, right

now, another girl has no maybes. Come sunset,
outside, she’s stealing a wallet and shooting

up.

C.A. MacConnell

Fuct.

I've been searching for the original, and I was happy to finally find it in my archives. One of my favorite photos I've taken. Took this one on film. <3

C.A. MacConnell

Roanoke Star

 

Shot w/ film. In Roanoke, VA, if you climb up Mill Mountain and check out the Roanoke Star, this is what it looks like. From afar, it's a distant shining light that's always there. Kinda like the Space Needle in Seattle....elevator going up and down...just always there. :) I've been up to the star a few times, and it was fun. Never did go up the Space Needle, though...it's expensive, as far as I heard...there's a restaurant up there too...I do know a lot about the Needle's history and structure, because I researched it for my second book, The House of Anchor. Interesting fact:  I originally wrote some scenes located at the top of the Needle, but I later took them out. :) Also interesting...never been up there, but I probably know more about the building than many people who have been to the top. ha.

Hope you have a good day. Love, C.A. MacConnell

From the Shark

A poem from the POV of the shark. :) Just messing around, getting my brain in gear. :)

From the Shark

Hello there Hello again
Listen I didn't do it on purpose
It all started with the sun going away
I went real fast you couldn't even see me
One second under
Next the surface
I opened my mouth
I swallowed the white bird
Too late I saw the stupid boat
Then I was stuck on something
My head my mouth my front my throat my neck my teeth
Pulling trapped sucking me
I remember I couldn't swim or breathe right
I jerked side to side my head my tail
My mouth was full of feathers and I loved it
But I tasted something wrong
The rope
Moe once told me he had it happen
No one swam near him for weeks because of his problem
Never thought it would happen to me
I knew I had to chew it apart soon no one wants a net
Break free home
Before anyone saw me caught up
I thought I was in the clear
But when I got back
Jimmy told me I had something bad
In my cheek
Patty broke off sideways
Said half my jaw was gone
I didn't feel the hole there
I was still enjoying the seagull
The whole team was all making fun of my ugly
Swimming in shapes and lines and diving in threes
Which was laughing
And I knew I had to do something to shake the stress
Before all the girls found out
I took off
I was going at least sixty
Weaving through the coral reef
I'd show them all
I saw something and I had to take a hold
Because that's what we do
I admit my aim was off
I guess I was hurt after all like they said something nasty
Which was talk therapy
Everything messed up my brain a little
I guess they were all right about that
Annoying hook in my face
Not supposed to be there
That's what happens with boats
Your face gets a hole the hunting goes wrong
Hello there Hello again
I went real fast you couldn't even see me
One second under
Next second the surface
Listen I didn't do it on purpose
I wanted a sea lion for dessert
I messed up I saw something and I had to take a hold
Because that's what we do
Everybody has bad days
I didn't like the taste 
of the person's leg
So I spit it back
out
I was mad at the mistake
But I didn't have time to say sorry
I was busy see I still had that hook 
Squid said I had to move to get it out
Which is the doctor
I smiled 
I ate him right after
Listen I wasn't dead the moon was coming

C.A. MacConnell

University of the Child Inside.

Last night, I heard a talk about a man who recovered and found his true calling -- helping kids. This morning I woke with a fierce spirit. I was thinking about treatment, 12-step programs, and other programs, and how they don't work for many, or how some die before they even begin to recover. And this goes for everyone...not just people recovering from addiction, but also, those struggling with divorce, loss of a parent, past trauma...whatever the case may be. Indeed, every human I've ever met has had some sort of difficult times and painful growth periods. And everyone I've ever met has been touched by mental health issues as well.

Overall, we're all in recovery in some way, shape, or form.

But then, I thought about these budding recovery centers that are unknown to many. There are places with equine therapy, agricultural therapy (I have a relative involved in one of these), creative outlets and the like, but they are only available to a select few. In my mind, that's the ticket. They combine traditional medicine, alternative medicine, and other outlets to help people...such as farming, dancing, riding, cooking, you name it. There, people also learn how to work, play, develop their spirits, and give back -- something lacking in most treatment options.

What if...when someone is suffering for any reason, instead of putting people away as if they are "troubled or bad," we set them free? What if, when someone couldn't grasp a certain program, idea, or doctor route, instead of saying, "Sorry, come back when you're ready," we said, "Let's create one that works for you!" Throw out the shame and bring in some compassion, love, and care. I bet, in those faces, a light would begin to shine.

In other words, what if we found what it was that they were passionate about and let them dig into that, whether it be music, writing, art, photography, fashion, construction, engineering, boxing ...whatever the choice may be. What if there were universities completely focused on this kind of healing...and in this way, if people were encouraged to fully develop their true selves, they could, in the future, give back and add to society as well. It'd be a win-win scenario. Man in care learns to make artistic coffee drinks...later starts his own coffee shop and hires others from the university who are passionate about it as well. Woman in care learns to make amazing dishes and later hires others from the university to open a bakery. People have begun to do this all over, and there are small ventures here and there.  There's a coffee shop nearby that focuses on hiring people who have been in prison. Things of this nature...it'd be a wonderful snowball effect.

The focus would not be on the negative, but rather, the focus would be on the person's individual gifts. How cool would that be? Universities focused on the "child inside." Now wouldn't that be beautiful?

It would begin with a "dying" person...and the university would be geared toward bringing the person back to life.

I sure wish I would have known about the equine therapy programs when I was first in recovery...indeed, without even realizing it, I created my own by taking riding lessons again, and when I look back, it seems like that's when I really began to get better...because I found that which was missing from my heart.

I used to muse about opportunities such as this back in the 90s. Of course, I've always had such visions and hopes buried deep within me. Anyway, I woke up with this budding dream...the idea for a new, creative program for all (for people struggling with any form of suffering), new literature, a new book, modern, gender-inclusive language, and new steps for healing, a program that says, Let's create one that works for you. Let's bring you back to life :)

Just musing about what might be something for the future that helps more people. I believe I may have to add a chapter to Book Five. Or maybe it's Book Six.

Good morning. Love to you,
C.A. MacConnell

Secrets, 1,2,3,4

 

C.A. MacConnell

Photo

 

C.A. MacConnell

Photo

 

C.A. MacConnell

Play

 

Something to brighten your day. Just making some coffee. Good morning. This is actually one of my favorite places to walk. It's up north a bit; it's full of wild fields and gardens, as well as an incredible kids' garden but interestingly enough, there's an air of danger there too...I've always felt a vibe when I'm there, and I've always been right when it comes to sensing things and so, I've not often ventured far alone...although there were a few days some years back when I went further than I knew I should have. Just my feel on it. Hope you have a good day, wherever you are, whatever you're doing. <3.

Love,

C.A. MacConnell

Photo: Self

 

This body has carried me through many wars, and I'm proud of that.

C.A. MacConnell

Limitations are Gifts.

Take My Test

 Here's a fiction sample for you...

Take My Test

Her stomach rumbled. At her desk, Stacy shifted, holding her middle, trying to mask the noise, but when she moved, the groans inside of her only became louder, turning into a sleepy, constant growl. For a moment, she wondered if the sounds would break a rib. She reached up, each hand gripping a blond braid, and she gave them a gentle tug. Her stomach churned, and she cleared her throat, hoping to hide the acidity inside.

She looked at the clock. In about five minutes, the bell would ring. She watched the second hand tick, tick, and then her eyes darted down to the blank paper on the desk in front of her. She glanced at the boy to her right. Will. Repeatedly, she blinked. When her gut was loud, she didn't sleep much.

With saucer-like, big, brown eyes, Will stared back. What? he mouthed at her. An early riser, he was tall for fifth grade. What’s wrong? You look like a sad dog.

Nothing, Stacy mouthed back, looking down at the blurry maze of unanswered math problems. Her stomach raged on, and she hugged herself, moving her small hips side to side in the hard chair, nearly slipping out of it. She leaned toward him. Ever so quietly, she whispered, I’m no dog, dummy.

Your face looks like my puppy though. Didn't you study any? Will wrote on the side of his desk.

Yes, LOTS, Stacy wrote on the edge of a small, spiral notebook. Mom made me.

You sick? he wrote back, blinking his long, dark lashes, then sniffling. Man, I am.

NO, she wrote in bubble, block letters. She thought about Pop Tarts. Strawberry. Hungry, see.

Yer gonna flunk, Will etched into the wooden surface of his desk. It wasn't hard. It wasn't hard at all, and he was happy about this.

Aren't you worried about your desk? Stacy wrote, and her body jerked when her pen sank into the hole of the spiral. She pulled it out, fixing the accident.

Shrugging, Will looked down, studying his graffiti. Then he reached for a small, black book, writing, I like your braids. No breakfast for you? Lucky Charms rock, don’t they?

Stacy wrote, They do. I like the purple horseshoes.

Will scribbled, You didn’t have anything?

Stacy shook her head. With the pen, she dug into the paper. There wasn't enough.

Will nodded, staring down his long nose, studying her. He mouthed, I get it.

The bell rang.

"Okay, everyone, time to turn the tests in. Bring them on up," the teacher, Miss Markistan, announced in a cheery, light voice.

Will handed his test to Stacy, whispering, "Here, take my test. I didn’t even put my name on it yet. I always do that last. Some kind of superstitious thing. Take it. Put your name on it, turn it in. She won't be able to tell the handwriting's wrong. It's just numbers. And I think I got most of them right too." Grinning, he nodded at her. "It's all right."

Miss Markistan yelled, "Come on now, enough of this chatter! Let's turn them in, folks."

"But what will you do?" Stacy asked Will, taking the test from him, sliding the blank one into her book bag.

Will shrugged, licking his lips. "Hm…well…I'll tell her I'm sick, or I’ll tell her that when she passed out the tests she forgot me, or I’ll kill her, I dunno. Hey, Stacy, just so you know, I think you're like some kind of movie star. You are, aren’t you? You’re special, like the purple horseshoe. Hey, your eyes are so blue, they actually look purple, it’s weird.”

Stacy smiled, looking down. She hooked her book bag on her shoulders, feeling her stomach, feeling the growl. Then she glanced back up at Will and said, "I think you're like one of those guys who wears hats and shoots guns...yeah...a gangster. My brother makes me watch those movies. I mean, I like them, but he makes me."

"A gangster, I like that," Will said, smiling wide, puffing out his small chest.

"Will! Stacy! Turn in your tests or you’ll be late for science, and no one wants to be late for Mr. Usher. You know he'll make you sit next to the snake," Miss Markistan shouted.

"Yes, Miss Markistan," Will and Stacy said in unison.

Swinging her braids, Stacy turned and walked to the front of the room, moving lightly, like she always did, like a newly violet butterfly.

Whistling, hand on the side of his corduroys, Will followed close behind.

Lightheaded, hanging on to the chalkboard, Stacy turned in her test.

"Finally! Now have a good day, you two troublemakers," Miss Markistan said, shaking her head.

Will approached Miss Markistan – sizing up her round face, her thick smile, and her body mass -- her height and her curves. The possible weight of it. He opened his hands, showing white, empty palms.

"Where’s your test?" Miss Markistan asked him, hands planted on her wide hips. “That’s not like you to be difficult. You’re usually such a good kid.”

From the door, Stacy glanced back at Will with bloodshot, round eyes. She ran a hand across her middle, feeling the life there. The life. She knew it was only one hour until lunch. She could make it.

Will sniffled. Maybe he’d keep quiet, say nothing. No, the sickness story might work. And then he thought about the hunting knife taped to his leg. The week before, he’d taken it from his dad’s dresser drawer, just in case there was some enemy out there, some enemy like Dad or Miss Markistan. Will hadn’t used it yet, but he liked knowing it was there. Like Stacy, his stomach rumbled some too. Only one hour until lunch. If he breathed slowly, the pangs weren't as harsh, and he knew his house wasn’t as bad as Stacy’s. He’d heard.

"The test, the test," Miss Markistan asked, raising her voice.

Will glanced down, studying the smooth, grey floor. For sure, Stacy was like some kind of movie star. He wasn't sure about much in fifth grade, but he was sure that Stacy was like a movie star. Nobody had purple eyes like that. Nobody but her. He stared up at Miss Markistan, his brown eyes peering intently into her hazel ones. He stood as tall as he could and muttered, "When you passed out the tests, there weren't enough.” Suddenly, he was empty-handed and fearless. He was a boxer, a pit bull, a monster from the deep. Like Jaws. He was a man.

Startled, Miss Markistan said, “It’s just not like you. You’re such a good kid.” Then she shook her head and asked, “What’s that sticking out of your pants leg?” She grabbed Will by the arm, and then she reached down, lifted the cuff of his corduroys, pulled at the tattered pants leg, and ripped at the tape hard and fast, scratching at it, tearing off half of Will's sock and some of his skin. Revealing the knife, she studied the dried blood on the serrated edge, and then she backed away from him, holding up the weapon. “Oh my god,” she said. “Where did you get this?”

Looking at the doorway, Will smiled over at Stacy.

Stacy mouthed, You're a gangster, before she disappeared out the door, heading to science.

Still gripping the knife, Miss Markistan dragged Will down the hall toward the principal’s office.

Will had never felt so full.

-- C.A. MacConnell

Glove 40.

 

Indeed, I have 54 pictures of lost gloves, ha. This is one of my favorites. I'm resting tonight...much needed. Hope you are well and happy. Love to you,
C.A. MacConnell

Photos.

 

Some shots I took today. :) That tree is amazing! I believe it's three trees in one.

C.A. MacConnell

Photo

 

Good morning. Today is new. :) Sending love and hope. What comes to mind? Follow your heart. <3

C.A. MacConnell

Wolf.

 

Goodnight. <3

C.A. MacConnell

From the Vulture

Ha, just messing around. From the POV of the vulture. Hope you like it... C.A.

From the Vulture

Hell ain't pretty, but it's a life.
Shit, everyone has a job to do.
Sure, my face isn't all it's cracked up to be --
calling up death, blood, chill, the whole drill. 
Someone has to come
from the devil.
When anything drops,
you can count on me, the damn
cleaner.
Right on time, I'm there, diving down
for a snack. Relax, people,
I have no desire
for kittens.
Aw, fuck, we were just hanging out.
Now the family senses something.
Word in the tree --
time to head into work
by the river.
My brother and I will take turns on the fish.
We'll tear her apart.
There will be no trace.
Good old Sam always saves me
the eyeball.

-- C.A. MacConnell

Photo: Kylin

 

C.A. MacConnell

Spider

 

Suddenly, I'm realizing that my whole life, I've allowed others to have power over me. Others have made my decisions -- doctors, parents, sponsors, friends, self-help writers, spiritual writers, people in 12-step meetings, and on and on. Partners, sometimes, but not so much, as I've never had a long-term partner. Suddenly, I'm wondering if the way to go is to not do "the next right thing," but instead, start doing "the next wrong thing," because I've spent 25 years doing the next right thing, and I've never felt truly free or happy following along...a part of me always questions things when people make it seem as if it's the "only route." Because the essence of "God," per say, is a mystery...divinity in itself rests in the unknown. So how can there be "one way?"

The only true religion is this:  Since I am human, I don't know.

Perhaps it is age, but now I feel as if I'm more of an observer and less of a sponge. Just a taste of what I've been feeling lately -- a shift in perspective.

Love to you,

C.A. MacConnell