"Perspectives wrapped in stories that challenge your belief system, and how you see others."
The wind was tossing the thin translucent drapes hanging from the drapery rods high, lifting and tying them as it blew them in different directions. Angry, her own anger matched the approaching storm, and she hurled her shoes in the darkness; her purse followed. She heard the content fall to the carpet but didn’t make any effort to turn the light on to gather them. Confused and hurting, she walked to the large window to look up at the dark, angry sky.
The Sunlight Dialogues by John Gardner
Riding horses in a back pasture, gone wild. Woods. Inside, on a hill, a house as black as dinosaur bones. Grass grows up through the driveway’s broken asphalt, but there is a car. This is the house of the oldest Judge in the world. The Judge has company.
John Gardner’s Prologue to The Sunlight Dialogues immediately drew me in. His first sentence, “Riding horses in a back pasture, gone wild” caught me up and I saw land no longer cultivated. His description, “grass grows up through the driveway,” gave me a picture of a driveway beaten down by weeds, and I laughed when he wrote, “but there is a car.”
My setting from Turn The Light On, WC:854 FCA
Puffy, dark clouds clustered together hiding the moon when Della opened the door to her apartment. She placed her keys on the large wooden key holder that hung on the left side of the wall without thinking about turning on her lights. Even though it was early October, it was extremely warm and she kicked off her shoes and carried them in her hands. That the hallway was dark didn’t bother her; she walked down it as lightning blitz across the sky; her shoes in one hand; her purse strap hanging over her shoulder.
Approaching her kitchen door, she stopped and noticed that the wind coming through her opened kitchen window had blown her letters that were on the kitchen table to the floor; the pictures and what-nots hanging on the wall were rattling their dissatisfaction, so she entered and closed the window and hurriedly picked up the fallen letters and laid them back on the table before going to her living room.
In her living room, the wind was tossing the thin translucent drapes hanging from the drapery rods high, lifting and tying them as it blew them in different directions. Her repressed anger matched the approaching storm, and she hurled her shoes off into the darkness; her purse followed. She heard the content fall to the carpet but didn’t make any effort to turn the light on to gather them. Confused and hurting, she walked to the large window to look up at the dark, angry sky.
Suddenly, she sensed a presence, and goose bumps broke out on her arms. She felt she was no longer alone.
You're here; somewhere, in my living room, she thought. It’s got to be you.
Infuriated at him for daring to enter her apartment; for leading her on for one whole year; in her anger, her stubborn spirit reared its head.
Two can play your game; I’ll just let you wait until I get ready to confront you. She stood before the huge glass window and the wind tossed the sheer drapes to and fro trying to envelope her; she felt no fear.
I was right then. You're back in town, so, why weren't you at the restaurant?
A feeling of relief ran through her body, and tears gathered in her eyes, and she brushed them away with her hands as they ran down her face. She had missed him––her stranger without a name. He had never left her for two months. She shuddered at the intimacy, at the emotional entwinement to a stranger, an assassin she didn't even know by name––her stranger.
***
He sat in the darkest corner of her living room, watching her. Observing her brought healing to his war-ridden soul. He desired to reach out and enfold her in his arms, but he didn't. Instead, he sat; basking in the tranquility her presence gave him. This was the intimacy he had been searching for, and he relished the fact that she was his. Like a mammoth in heat, within him raged a pressing need to cover her with his body as he lay in her arms.
Her tears forced him to act. As the lightening flashed across the room, he saw her brushing tears away from her cheeks. He’d never seen her cry, and surprisingly, it pained him. What little emotional balance he had left disappeared; he wanted to comfort her.
"Did you enjoy your meal?"
"No.” She said.
"Why not?"
“Why weren't you there?" she asked.
"I had to de-brief."
"Oh. When did you land?"
"Four hours ago."
"Have you eaten?"
"No. I was waiting for you so we could eat together."
"I'm tired. I’ve had a long day."
"Why?" he asked, even though, he knew from CeCe, her live-in maid, that she’d been horrified at his occupation.
"Because I found out what you were. The newsflash this morning accidentally caught my attention, and I recognized you."
"How?"
"By your eyes," she almost screamed.
"Which means?"
"I've been walking around in a daze, asking myself how I could let myself play such a stupid game and get emotionally attach to a trained killer."
"You haven't been playing a game."
"What is it then, if not a game?"
"It's a courtship that’s about to end.”
Her heart began to beat swiftly; they were surrounded by darkness; she couldn’t see his face; she had no idea what he meant.
So, it's over, she thought and a sadness of great dimension overcame her and poked at her heart.
"Why is it about to end?" She asked, quietly.
"I need you."
"Oh, I see," she said, and joy banished away the sadness. "So, you want to sleep with me? Is that the reason you've followed me a whole year and showered me with gifts?"
"I do admit I want you in my bed on a permanent basis."
"And what if I don't want to sleep in your bed on a permanent basis? Would you force me?"
"No, I've never had to force anyone, and I won't have to force you either."
"At least you don't lack self-confidence," she said with a trace of sarcasm.
***
Shalom,
Pat Garcia
Ihre Reise ist in Passagen aufgeteilt. Diese Passagen haben Phasen, die in dir entwickeln und Ihr Leben Perspektive verändern, als Sie an ihre Reise weiterlaufen. Es hängt davon ab, wie Sie die Veränderungen in ihrer Leben sehen, ob du zu laßt dich nur kurzfristig zu ändern, so das es nur für ein paar Tage bleiben oder ob du zulaßt das dein Herz berührt ist, und sich Entscheiden die Änderungen anzunehmen so das es deine ganze Perspektive in Umgang mit dem Leben und dein Erfahrung mit andere Leute bestimmt.
Wenn Sie dieses Katalysators in deinem Geist eingeben zulassen, du bleibst nichts dasselbe und nichts kann dich verhindern. Das Wachstum in dir wird gezündet und schritt für schritt, du wächst. So war es am 13. Oktober, als ich die Gelegenheit hatte, ein blickt auf meinem 61. Jahr zurückzublicken bevor ich überquerte in meinem 62. Lebensjahr.
Als ich gestern Abend auf meine Facebook-Seite, geschaut habe dachte ich über meine Begegnungen mit jeder Person, die mich gegrüßt hat. Ohne es zu wissen, haben Sie alle meine Überzeugungen, daß Gott der Person nicht nach Ansehen auswählt, gestärkt; daß er einen Zweck hat für jede Person, die in diese Welt kommt und daß ich meinen Zweck, sein Absicht für meinen Leben erfüllen mußt. Sie haben mir geholfen, den Kurs zu halten und zu leben, was ich sage, ich tun werde, so mein Leben und mein Tun eins sind. Sie haben mich geholfen diese Ängste in mir zu konfrontieren und die zu erobern.
An diesem Morgen, dies ist meine Art zu sagen, danke an jede einzeln für euer Geburtstag grüße.
Einer meiner Mentoren, die nicht mehr auf dieser Erde lebt, hinterließ einen Abdruck auf mein Leben mit seinen christlichen Glauben. Sein Name ist Vince Lombardi. Heute teile ich diese kleine Nugget aus meinen Schatztruhe mit euch, weil es einer meiner goldenen Nuggets, die mich helfen auf meine Weg zu bleiben als ich meine Reise mache:
"Jede Berufung fordert Opfer an Zeit, Energie, Geist und Körper. Sei bereit, zu opfern."
Sei Gesegnet diese Woche und Ich liebe euch alle.
Schalom,
Pat Garcia
P.S. ich bitte um Verzeihung im voraus für alle meine Deutsch Grammatik-fehlern. Es war mein Absicht mein Dank in beiden Sprachen zu Schreiben so daß die Leute die Englisch nicht gut verstehen, mein Dank in ihrer Muttersprache lesen können. Schalom.