Going Inkless

For years, I was the one who came straight back to work the day after Christmas, New Year and Thanksgiving, too.  There were things that needed doing, work that didn't stop just because the rest of the world was taking a break.  Somebody had to do those ceaseless tasks, and if it wasn't me, one of my coworkers might have to give up holiday plans to come in and work.  So, I enjoyed the days off while the library was closed, but dutifully returned as soon as the doors opened again.  This year, the work in my new position is not so time-sensitive, at least not at this time of the year.  Taking an extra day after Christmas would have little impact on my department; so I planned to join the ranks of those who disappeared from the workplace and spent an extended holiday at home.  In truth, it was only one extra day off, the Friday between Christmas and the weekend, but the timing worked out that there would be five whole days to spend in merriment with the ones I...

     The smell of old canvas in my car was comforting in the last few work days of the week.  I started packing on Wednesday for the trip I planned to make on the weekend.  It wouldn't be far, just a few miles from home, and it wouldn't be long, only a single night, but I would be ready.  This was to be my first solo camping trip in about a year.  Various health issues and scheduling conflicts had kept me from the experience, and now that I was feeling mostly better and could stake out a Saturday, I was eager to go.  Eager and a little nervous.  The past year has been busy pointing out that I'm older and less invincible than I used to be.  Could my skills have deteriorated while I waited to be strong again?  Those same health issues had impacted my daily walking routine and kept me from taking the longer weekend hikes I liked as well.  I could see the difference in my leg muscles.      Then there's the matter ...

Somewhere in my early teens, I suddenly came to the realization that I had quite a few stories to tell and not so much time to do it in. I had always been writing and had always followed creative sparks in other arts wherever they lit up my imagination, but this moment was my epiphany. Moment is the appropriate word, too, because it was that sudden. One minute I was more or less typically shortsighted as other kids my age, and the next, the sky opened up and dropped a sense of mortality on my head. There was no apparent impetus for the revelation, no sudden winking out of a young life that presaged the thought. All at once, I just knew, and it seemed like the knowledge had been lurking in the dark corners of my mind all my life, that there was somewhere I was supposed to be and I was running out of time to get there. Some people might classify it "a calling," and I suppose it could be, but to me it's always been this weird little thing that happened to me when I wa...

As a child, I loved folk and fairy tales. I love them still. Every one has the promise of adventure. There's excitement in the hero's quest and satisfaction in the series of challenges presented and solved in ritual fashion. Dress it in an exotic setting, a far-off land or alternate time, and the tale engages my curiosity. Imagination embellishes familiar themes with the trappings of another culture. Build your story on a foundation of magic and spirituality, and you make it irresistible . The fabric on which a fairy tale is embroidered is a world in which things happen for a reason. Dangers may threaten, but good prevails and adventures are neatly tied up with all as it should be in the end. There's a wonderful mix of comfort and excitement in this type of story, and familiar ideas are allowed to mingle with the whisper of magic. I read all the fairy tales, folk tales and mythology I could find when I was young. I read them over again as I grew and added the wo...

On the way to choosing her goal of a library science degree, my daughter explored the fields of philosophy, psychology and social work. Despite this obvious interest in how people see the world and her desire to help those who are suffering or seeking, she has a profound dislike of the self-help industry. Not too long ago, we discussed her strong feelings on the popular books and methods, their gurus and followers. She didn't disagree with their advice on all counts, even noting that many of the "new" ideas were recycled from the philosophy and religion of other cultures or historical periods. Her primary objection seemed to be the marketing of that advice. Authors of self-help books and leaders of self-help programs may begin with the best intentions, but often end up using classic sales techniques to push the notion of a quick fix on a public that is all too willing to buy that impossible concept. Mankind is always seeking, feels the need to figure it all out and...