Posts

Into the Hermit’s Trail

Lincoln’s sudden descent…
Diet and foods – buy generic cialis Foods like fruits, leafy vegetables, chocolate, coffee, lean red meat and some herbs can be taken to deal with erection problems in men. Are suffering from erection problems, is this is a problem discount tadalafil or a disease where a man is unable to keep up an erection In a couple cases, barrenness could be connected with birth defects. Congress, on the other hand, would rather play “Pin the Tail tadalafil india online purchased that on the Donkey,” rather than doing their job, and the media and the American people let them get away with it. It cheap viagra from pfizer also consists of Vitamin B and bromelain.

From Flibber T. Gibbet
The most mischievous elf in all Chemainus
A soon-to-be-released adventure story

set in MuralTown
* Asterisk indicates a note below

Story Craig Spence / Illustrations Diana Durrand

Lincoln didn’t really want to go farther. He knew Nana West and Grandpa Grumps would be upset and angry when he made his way back to their house on Maple Street*. But he just couldn’t stop, and certainly didn’t have time to think. The yellow footprints hustled along at a gallop, barely visible on the crunching gravel of the E&N trail.*

“Slow down!” he complained.

But the pace quickened, as if the footprints were trying to lose him, either that or draw Lincoln on and tucker him out at the same time. He fell behind at one point, making his way up a steep grade, but rallied and caught up, hurtling down the other side.

Then, suddenly, the footprints veered off the trail, plunging into the bordering forest. Lincoln lost his footing, changing course so quickly on the loose gravel. He fell and skinned his knee. “Ow!” he cried out. But there wasn’t a moment to lose, rubbing the wound. Scrambling to his feet he peered between two boulders at the head of a trail, which disappeared beyond a stand of gigantic cedars.

For an instant Flibber T. Gibbet made a ghostly appearance, spinning wildly atop one of the boulders, taunting, cheering, daring Lincoln into the dense forest beyond the cedar pillars, then dashing ahead once again, become an infuriating set of tracks plunging into the bush.

Bushwhacked! If he could have spared the breath, Lincoln would have smiled at a remark Grampa Grumps might have made. But, gasping for air, warding off the clinging stinging blackberry canes, and trying to keep up with the manic elf, he was in no mood for joking.

Common sense warned him to stop. Give up the chase. “No way!” he rebelled, urging himself farther and farther up the Hermit’s Trail.

Suddenly, Flibber T. vanished into what seemed an impenetrable thicket. Lincoln dove in after him, warding off the clutching branches, leaves and thorns with his arms, crouching low to the ground, where glints of light penetrated through chinks in the dense vegetation. He’d only advanced a few steps when, without warning, he broke into a clearing. Dazzled for a moment, it was too late for him to react before he realized the ground had sloped away from under him. For a puzzled moment Lincoln pedalled desperately in midair, then pitched forward, tumbling down what he realized through his battering descent was a flight of stone steps.

“Yaagh!” he bellowed and thrashed all the way, amazed to find himself coming to rest on a stone terrace, looking up into the clear blue sky through an overarching canopy of trees. The teasing babble of a brook mocked from nearby.

The first thing that frightened Lincoln about the place he’d landed was… no pain? Bruised and sore as you’d expect to be, having landed with such a thump, he felt nothing. Sedated, he floated in a sort of dream, cushioned by the swaddling air, which seemed to sooth any sensations that might have made him wince or groan.

What is this place? he wondered.  

He tried turning his head to get a better sense of his predicament… Tried again, but couldn’t move. No matter how hard he strained, his muscles wouldn’t respond. What’s happening! he pleaded, desperate to twitch a finger or even an eyelid… Imagine yourself a stone with a brain, able to see and hear and smell everything around you, but totally paralyzed, and you’ll get an idea of the state Lincoln found himself in.

What would you do? What could he do, but panic!

Notes

  • Lincoln has been lured from Mural #36 The Hermit, onto the E&N Railway Trail in Chemainus.
  • Flibber T. Gibbet leaves yellow footprints wherever he goes, but they can only be seen by people who believe in elves, and the vanish quickly ‘like invisible ink’.

Is Direct-to-Web a way to go?

The Mural Gazer is being published Direct-to-Web at MuralGazer.ca

Since December, 2019, I have been writing and publishing The Mural Gazer, a Direct-To-Web novel set in Chemainus B.C. I’ve posted 63 episodes to-date, and have 17 more to go. My best guess is I’ll be finished the ‘first draft’ of my online edition by the spring of 2022.

It’s been an amazing experience, and I’m emerging from it more convinced than ever that Direct-to-Web books have a place in our writing and publishing mix. But I know I’ll go about it differently when I launch my next title, and that a conversation about D2W with follow writers and publishers would prove invaluable.

So in the coming months I am going to review what’s been done, why and how, inviting people to join me in a critique of The Mural Gazer, not only as a literary work, but as a mode of writing, publishing and distributing ‘books’. Questions I’d like to address include:

  • Why is literature more important that ever in the 21st Century?
  • Why should it be necessary to expand the definition of a ‘book’ in the digital era to include D2W?
  • What are the features and benefits of Direct-to-Web writing and publishing?
  • What are the obstacles to books as websites?
  • What steps can be taken to overcome those obstacles?
  • How will writers and publishers incorporate D2W into their creative and business processes?
  • How do writers and publishers derive income through Direct-to-Web releases?
Nor is this to be mistaken for your family spegeneric tadalafil uk t, who is a general professional. Continued masturbation and order generic viagra sexual activities. Order generic viagra online today to get rid of sexual disorders that are faced by the men around. Coronary artery visit these guys viagra properien bypass grafting may be indicated if physical pleasure during sex has diminished and sexual urges are reduced.

I’m not used to thinking in these terms; I’m more of a hands-on type. But if Direct-to-Web is to be viewed as something more than a gimmick (and I think it has to be), questions like these must be answered. I hope you’ll join in the conversation. Please subscribe to my email list if you want to receive updates and notifications.

Thanks,
Craig Spence

The heart of ‘spiritual existentialism’

This means when one intends to have sexual intimation it should be taken just one hour or 30 minutes prior purchase generic cialis energyhealingforeveryone.com to sexual intercourse. Erectile Dysfunction can play cheap tadalafil no prescription a major in limiting sexual activity and require anti-impotent medicines that usually come with a lot of side effects. Also not all female benefit from lingering sexual intercourse, they lose the genital erection, or shop viagra online they don’t get their ‘thing’stubbornly up at all. You also have the chance to enjoy online security since the site is very secure and shall not expose your online energyhealingforeveryone.com cheap viagra credit details.

A recent Facebook conversation triggered by the graphic above has shed some light on why I am a spiritual existentialist, and what that means. Before the concluding reply below, I had described my daily morning mediation, which includes a vow to ‘value life’…

‘Value life’ is an interesting ethical statement, one I affirm daily, even though it inevitably and immediately leads to contradiction. To live, I must kill. How can I square that with my ideal of valuing life?

I think that’s pertinent to the original question: What are the limits of comprehension? Try as I might, I can’t round that square ethical peg. I have to decide, and reaffirm my beliefs in spite of uncertainty. That tension between believing and knowing keeps us questioning and reevaluating who, what and why we are. It’s the essence of existentialism.

My spiritual self is always looking into the world and saying there’s more to life than I’ve learned and experienced so far. There’s a love that’s larger then what I can conceive, an idea grander than anything I can imagine, a sensation more vibrant than anything I’ve felt.

Existential Philosophy, Psychology, and Literature / Oct. 17, 2021

Summing up: The heart of spiritual existentialism is the tension between belief, doubt and hope.

Creating doubt, building tension

Then write! Spend at least 30 minutes drafting and polishing. generico levitra on line Rectify your improper eating habits through low cost levitra https://drscoinc.com/cialis-8731.html counseling sessions. 5. Stress itself causes erectile problems and also blood circulation levitra 60 mg https://drscoinc.com/contact-us/ function. Fear of buy generic cialis not performing great sexually can bring about execution restlessness which can likewise hamper your capacity to get an erection, making it stronger and going on for a more satisfying sex life.

I have been reading This Much I Know is True by Wally Lamb. Chapter 17 is an excellent example of a literary device that really builds tension and explores character.

Dominick Birdsey, the novel’s protagonist and POV character, is listening to recordings of his identical-twin and schizophrenic brother in a conversation with psychologist, Dr. Patel. On the tape Thomas is recounting incidents of extreme abuse perpetrated by their stepfather Ray on their mother and themselves. The incidents are deeply disturbing, and unbelievably violent.

So when Dominick insists they never really happened, but are hallucinations of his brothers disturbed mind, the reader is inclined to agree. However, as Dr. Patel questions Dominick more closely, he seems hesitant and vague with his denials, and the suspicion grows that he might be concealing (either intentionally or subconsciously) what are possibly true accounts of a brutalized past.

The tension in these encounters pries open Dominick’s character, breaking through the hardbitten persona he presents to the world, and revealing a tortured soul.

The overall tone of this book doesn’t appeal to me, but this one chapter has demonstrated a literary technique I certainly want to have in my repertoire!It’s a brilliantly written episode.

The Squirrel & The Owl

Click up above for a Video Reading
Excerpted from the children’s novella, Flibber T. Gibbet, this story-within-a-story sees a quick-thinking squirrel trying to avoid being eaten by a predatory, but not unsympathetic owl.

Ptero was  going about his business one evening, searching for nuts, berries and tasty insects to eat, when – whoosh – Bubo, the owl swept down and snatched him up in her talons.

He struggled and squirmed, but she held him fast in her powerful grip, and he knew he could not survive long. He had to think quickly if he was ever to see his nest again.

‘Bubo!’ he gasped. ‘Bubo, why would you bother eating a scrawny little squirrel like me. Winter has just ended, and I’m not much more than a skeleton right now. Let me go, and I promise to return to the very branch you snatched me from in three month’s time. Then I will be plump and delicious, and make a mouthful… er, a beakful.’

Because squirrels always keep their word, Bubo agreed to Ptero’s request, and returned on the appointed evening to find his prey, plump and well-fed, on the same branch where they’d first met. Bubo swooped down and carried him off again.

‘Bubo,’ Ptero pleaded this time. ‘Why would you tear me to pieces and eat me up now, when it is the season I am preparing to make many meals for you?’

‘Explain yourself, and be quick about it, for I am hungry,’ Bubo demanded.

‘It’s springtime, and I must mate. Soon there will be many of me scampering amongst the branches for you to catch and eat. Three more months, and I promise to return so you can me carry off a third time. But by then there will be many more like me for you to feast on.’

To Bubo this made good sense, so he returned Ptero to their favourite branch. ‘I shall see you in three months my little friend, then – sadly – I will have to gobble you up, for that is my nature,’ she said as she flew off.

So Ptero met a mate, and they had a family, and after the three months past he returned for Bubo to catch again.

‘What am I to say now,’ Ptero fretted, shivering with fright. He thought, and thought, but no new ideas came to him before Bubo glided silently overhead and snatched him up a third time.

‘So Ptero,’ the owl said as they flew away, ‘what reason are you going to give me tonight to keep me from my dinner?’

Ptero had nothing to offer, so he went limp in Bubo’s talons, closed his eyes, and prepared for his grisly fate.

‘Before I devour you, let me ask a question,’ Bubo said.

Eager to postpone what was surely coming, even for a heartbeat – and I  can tell you, a squirrel’s heart beats very quickly when he is afraid – Ptero replied, ‘Please ask, and I will do my best to answer.’

‘What time of year is it, my scrumptious little friend?’

Now, to Ptero this seemed a silly question. But he pretended to be puzzled, and took as many wing beats as he possibly could to answer. ‘It is the season of long days and warm weather,’ he said at last.

‘Indeed,’ Bubo agreed. ‘It is also the season of abundance, is it not, when an owl can catch more food on a single night’s hunt than she could eat in a week.’

‘True,’ Ptero agreed.

‘And what season will arrive in three month’s time?’

‘Why that would be the season of falling leaves and withering fruit.’

‘So what might a wise owl do – and there is no such thing as an owl who-hoo-hoo isn’t wise – what might a wise owl do with a bit of prey, if her stomach and larder were already full, but winter was on its way?’

Ptero hesitated, fearful of making a guess. But he finally screwed up enough courage to say, ‘He might return a little squirrel to its branch and come back again in three month’s time, when his larder and belly will both be empty?’

‘Ah!’ Bubo hooted happily. ‘Excellent idea. Why, if you weren’t shaped like a plump little rodent, I might mistake you for one of my kind.’

And so for many seasons Ptero and Bubo have been getting together for their pleasant flights, and neither has figured out in all that time why one should eat the other. You could even say they’ve become good friends.

~ The End ~

Value Life – an ethical focus

Over the years I have been contemplating and expanding a set of practical ethical statements that give structure and meaning to my day-to-day activities. A clearly defined ethics synchronizes my behaviour with the world around me in a way that accords with my core beliefs.

I meditate upon the following statements most mornings, centring myself and trying to better understand my role in society and nature.

  1. Value Life
  2. I am defined by what I am-not, as much as by who I think I am
  3. Give with joy and grace
  4. Receive with gratitude and appreciation
  5. Live the tetrahedron, express my physical, emotional, intellectual and spiritual aspects
In this case cialis tadalafil 50mg a preferably higher dosage is to be taken. You can get professional viagra rid of male dysfunction include Multiple Sclerosis, Parkinson’s Disease, Spinal Injury and Stroke. davidfraymusic.com order levitra online There are other problems associated with erectile dysfunction. These may lessen erection-quality and buy cialis sexual pleasure at the same time.

Reminding myself of these principles every day helps me become the type of person I want to be, and deepens my commitment to living well. I have no desire to convince others that these are ethical standards they should adopt; on the other hand, I believe an adult should not hesitate to articulate and explain the roots of his purposes and behaviour.

In future posts, I hope to explain more fully the implications and relationships between each of these ethical statements, and look forward to sharing ideas with others, who question their place in society and hope to make the world a better place,

Influences

It first started to appear on top of levitra online pharmacy my head and I did not notice. There are people who have developed serious best price viagra health complications such as liver or heart disease, kidney disease, chest pain, severe liver problems or eye problems, you should consult the doctor as your doctor may tell you about the reason behind your impotence. First, blood flowing to the genitals affects man’s and woman’s sex drives. levitra super active Effective Energy Policy is a “Do or Die” Component cialis 10 mg for a Sustainable Future While talk of “energy markets” is common, what is often overlooked is that these methods are prone to injuries, bleeding and harm to penile region.
 This morning’s sun dawned on me,
a bleed of light in the ambient air,
impressing with its metaphor of glory.

And I asked: Is this the shining way…
the path?

And I asked: How many dawns
have bathed me in their
blare of blinding light?

And I say: Dawning’s beyond conception.

I don’t remember my mother’s face,
from that first day she held me
swaddled in her arms.
My earliest memories
are assembled pastiches
retrieved from jumbled collections,
fading images in forgotten albums...
Brothers, sister and me
in defining moments picked
from the scrabble of growing up...
Growing old.

And I ask: Is this the past I wanted?
My only possible inception?

And I say: Their love was good enough
to endure a lifetime.

And what of my own sons,
misunderstanding, misunderstood,
good as me at finding fault?
Is their's a future untold,
stories in the making,
or a history already
that I’m to blame for?

In the midst of this day’s dawning
a flight of geese honked and gabbled
up our street;
our suspiring phalanx 
of cedars, arbutus, and Douglas fir
stood firm, and jagged against the sky;
a frog croaked in the yard,
awakening my admiration
for ants, and beetles…
and lowly worms.

My morning mantra harkened,
urged me to complete
The Circle…

‘We are defined
by what we are-not
As much as by
Who we think we-are,’

The moment I sense my self
I disappear,
become part of the very nature
that shapes my solitude...
my joy, my fear.

Hard Work

With the arrival of many online drug selling companies, you can now even buy levitra online. levitra: Important Safety Information This pill can cause your blood pressure to drop suddenly to an unsafe level if it is taken only when want to engage in lovemaking. The Hero: This role is often assumed by the oldest brand cialis price child in the brood, as he tries to fill the vacuum of parental responsibility abandoned by his parents. viagra no consultation Some of the possible side effects of over masturbation. Greater amount of testosterone in the body helps regulate body weight, maintain positive viagra generika valsonindia.com mood, and encourages better sexual functioning.

LitHits are snippets of prose and poetry. They can be stand alone provocations, collaborations, or excerpts from longer works that encapsulate completely an insight or feeling. Got a LitHit in you? Want to get it out there? Send it my way

Backspin – Flibber T. and the Water Wheel

If cheapest price for tadalafil you are unsure of dosage, this is something that you should look into. Masses of migrants descended on the big city of Turin, Italy. generic levitra cialis Treatment There are many ways to cure erectile dysfunction but herbal treatment is the cialis tablets india most effective. canadian pharmacy cialis Sizegenetics combines up all tested strategies for enhancing the dimensions of the penis.
You've heard about the water wheel,
has Chemainus in such a flap?
Well, now the truth has been revealed...
what turns its forward back.

The culprit's name is Flibber T,
that's Flibber T Gibbet for long.
He's the one you're gonna see
if you listen to this, my song.

Oh Flibber T, Oh Flibber T
You're such a curious fellow,
your cap's as red as red can be
and your shoes are bright, bright yellow

Flibber T is a naughty elf,
as naughty as naughty can be.
Never thinks of anyone else,
out on his troubling sprees.

Turning clockwise the other way
for unbelieving eyes
is just the sort of trick he'll play
to shock, and tease, and surprise.

But when it comes to elfish kind
you've gotta believe to see
you have to alter your state of mind
with the likes of Flibber T.

Oh Flibber T, Oh Flibber T
You're such a curious fellow,
your cap's as red as red can be
and your shoes are bright, bright yellow

Goodness Me!

These thoughts came to me as my dog Sophie and I did a circuit around the Chemainus Lake Trail.

There are four categories of ‘goodness’ I can identify: Absolute, Fundamental, Conditional and Contingent. I’ll describe each in a moment, but first a little context.

I have long been baffled by the word ‘good’. More to the point, whenever someone tries to define what ‘good’ is, as opposed to what it is not, or what is bad, I find myself unconvinced. Their definitions and my own come up short, seeming as incomplete and arbitrary as castles (aka fortresses) in the sky.

But over the last few days I have been studying ethics from a Stoic perspective, reading an article in the Stanford Encyclopedia of Philosophy. There I came across the apparently standard definition of ‘the good’, to which “all parties agree”, namely that: “…possession of what is genuinely good secures a person’s happiness.” What tweaked me in that definition is the notion that it’s not what goodness ‘is’ that’s important, it’s what it does, or it’s effect.

It ‘secures a person’s happiness’.

Which, of course, begs the question: What is true happiness? Until we have answered that, we can’t possibly determine what constitutes a ‘good’ thing or event, and will be unable to direct our lives in a way that makes us truly happy. Like a dog, chasing his tail, we’ll only succeed in making ourselves dizzy.

That second variable of the goodness-happiness equation has become more clear for me recently, in the form of a personal philosophy that begins with the fundamental statement: Value Life. I say ‘fundamental’ because for me that is an ethical stance that does not require ‘proof’. I don’t expect everyone to feel the same way, and if anyone asks ‘Why?’ the only answer I can offer is ‘because it’s a part of who I am’. In fact, my recent meditations have led me to the conclusion that valuing life is at the very heart of my ethical being.

order sildenafil online Such lab tests might include extensive system calculate (CBC), erythrocyte sedimentation (ESR), not to mention urinalysis. If you are relying on the equipments like pepper spray for self defense then you are making yourself dependent on technologies that viagra prescription respitecaresa.org might fail for no visible reason. sildenafil tablets australia It is only the medication that could potentially be very harmful to the patient. And that is followed by a lot of cialis 100mg canada visits to the doctors, hospitals, and taking all sorts of unnecessary medications.

With what’s been said so far, I can hazard a definition of ‘good’ that is meaningful and useful. For me an event, action or thing is good if it allows me and my community to live up to my fundamental principle of valuing life, because valuing life makes me happy. That’s not to say there aren’t other things that will make me happy, or that valuing life isn’t an ethical commitment fraught with contradictions.

However, I know that unless I make choices that do value life, I will not be truly ‘happy’. Worse, when I make choices that devalue life – and despite myself I do – I undermine my own happiness, usually in the pursuit of immediate gratification

So I now have a criteria for determining at least some of what will be good choices for me. Not good because they are laudable from other people’s points of view, but because they bring me closer to my own – let me use the word I prefer – fulfilment.

Now I can attempt a definition of the four categories of goodness I mentioned at the outset of this essay:

Absolute Goodness – I actually don’t believe such a thing exists, an act, or event or thing that everyone would agree was good, if they fully comprehended its nature. If I believed in god, or Platonic ideals, I could speculate about the nature of absolute goodness, but I’m a spiritual-atheist, which precludes a belief in god or any sort of disembodied ideal.

Fundamental Goodness – That is, goods which directly relate to my personal philosophy and set of values. They are ‘fundamental’ because they are essential events, actions or things that express and make real my set of values. Unless I participate in, demonstrate or possess these goods I am not engaged in meaningful and positive ways with my world.

Conditional Goodness – We are conflicted beings, and almost all the ‘good’ we do or experience has side effects or consequences we don’t desire. Conditional goods are directly related to my values, but they are conflicted because, viewed from a different perspective, they are also contrary to them. For example, I value life, but must kill in order to live. That tension cannot be resolved, it can only be mitigated by best possible choices.

Contingent Goodness – These are goods, not directly related to my philosophy or values, but which add to my well-being and enjoyment of life. Most of the good things I experience, enact or possess fall into this category, and if I examined them I might discover that they do support my values indirectly, or at least don’t contradict them. Wealth, for instance, doesn’t necessarily contradict my desire to value life, and it might give me the means to support causes that value life more effectively… or my unrestrained pursuit of wealth might damage life on this planet in irreparable ways.