Archive for July, 2016

The Motherland (part 2)

Continuing thoughts about my recent four days in London:

Whenever I’m given the honorable opportunity to jump the pond to visit The Motherland (no, my mother was born in Pawtucket, Rhode Island), whenever I’m in London, I visit Saint Paul’s Cathedral.

A soothing place to be. Once I passed the inspection of my bags by a busy and hassled security guy or gal, once I paid my $18.00 per adult, once I passed by the guided tours (perhaps I stopped to listen for a while), once I made it by all that, the healing began.

I respectfully walked to the center, absorbing all I could see and hear. I sat and listened and waited. I bowed my head in prayer and  then I stood and turned left. There’s a small chapel with a remarkable painting, William Holman Hunt’s The Light of the World. I left a contribution, bought a candle, lit it, and sat down in the appreciated peace.  The painting illustrates Jesus knocking on an old garden door with no knob or latch. Often I feel I’m on the other side.

During this particular pond jump there was a temporary display down the hall from Mr. Hunt’s creation. There are several photographs and printed prose describing various immigrants who recently have arrived on British shores. As I stopped to read them I was surrounded by people entirely different from one another; immigrants all, even me.

I prayed for them too.

Writing heals. Writing helps me to open that garden door to my soul.

Saint Paul’s Cathedral is one of my healing places.


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The Motherland (part one)

This is difficult to explain, but I’ll try. This past weekend I popped over the pond to London. As to how or why will be disbursed among parts of this series of posts. I might or might not (or even may or may not) explain how an author could possibly afford such a pop-over. Today I will mention The Bloomsbury Hotel and the British Museum.

The Bloomsbury: according to my lame research, no less than twenty-five literary residents cast ghostly shadows on my hotel. My favorites include Virginia Wolfe, Charles Dickens, Charles Darwin, and me. I plan to go back and study their neighborhood in more detail.

The British Museum: I met my next novel’s object of plot and desire.

In Gray Lace (released in 2015) the object of desire filled a hollow hanging tree with gold, in August Snow ( hopefully released this November) the object is a painting by London’s JMW Turner. In Golden Leaf ( hopefully a 2017 release) the object to mysteriously disappear will be The Holy Thorn Reliquary. This is an elaborate and costly display case for the thorn from Our Savior’s Crown at Crucifixion.

Only loftiness for my objects of plot and desire.

My four days were fun, but not nearly


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