A marvelous post on author extraordinaire, Shawn MacKenzie. Thank you Niamh Clune and ontheplumtree. It is a pleasure to reblog this post of “Author’s Corner.” Well, done. [added this edited version of my comment from "on the plum tree"]. A great post Niamh. Loved your tales Shawn of discovering the Dragon in a serendipitous way. Those magical used book stores carry such treasures. I do believe Dragon Green was sitting up wondering and waiting for your arrival. “Where is that little girl. She was supposed to be here hours and possibly days ago. Ah, there she is. Now I will work my wonders on her. She will understand me. They told me she would.” And there you were, taking book in hand and from that day forward your destiny was forged. You have tried other endeavors. Playwright extraordinaire. I love your plays. But that was a different time. Now you are immersed with Dragon lore and mythical explorations and all sorts of stories needing to be told. But Dragons will be foremost in your mind. They chose you and you chose them. Either way you are meant for the other. As a writer, your brilliance shines through, your precision is excellent, and your imagination soars throughout the universe. Now you have taken on the Editor’s Corner, where you are teaching other writers, professional and novice, the inner workings of writing, so that it’s appearance is fleshed out with more accuracy. Giving valuable direction to us all. It is an enjoyment to read each week, so informative, and served with a (pardon the expression from someone I love from my childhood,) “spoonful of sugar, which helps the medicine go down in the most delightful way.” Well, done Niamh, choosing Shawn MacKenzie as your “Author’s Corner” author célèbre. She is most deserving of the attention and has a great deal more magic up her sleeve from short stories to novels. When you wrote, Niamh: “Shawn is no ordinary writer of prose. She crafts sentences, weaving them with natural flair whilst introducing the unusual. Her brilliance of mind and wit shines through everything she does.” A most accurate statement, indeed. I will second that. Not biased much, just appreciative of a true “Wildean” wit who is a true contrarian, too shy, however, to shine the light on herself, though she deserves the brightest light of all. So thank you for doing this for her. Jk the secret keeper
A favourite of Plum Tree Books is Shawn MacKenzie. You might all know her for her great editorial posts. But did you know, she is an expert on dragons and a brilliant writer in her own right? Shawn is no ordinary writer of prose. She crafts sentences, weaving them with natural flair whilst introducing the unusual. Her brilliance of mind and wit shines through everything she does. Great to have you here, Shawn.
by Shawn MacKENZIE
Hang out On the Plum Tree and you may know me from the Editor’s Corner. However, you may not know that there is actual authorial experience backing up all that pedantry. And so, at Niamh’s invitation, I’m delighted to introduce you to my fictional side, particularly my books on Dragons. As every dracophile knows, all talk of Dragons must begin with a story. They insist – and you don’t want to cross…
Laughter With Heart
Post Created by Jk the secret keeper
Wake Up Kitty Video Created by Jennifer Kiley
Created Tuesday 9th July 2013
Collage Created by j. kiley
Collage Created Sunday 7th July 2013
Posted Wednesday 10th July 2013 COLLAGE WEDNESDAY
“Deep inside us is something intensely felt, not in our conscious mind, but in our subconscious. A silent truth, an infinite truth, leading to a deeper awareness. It is an intensely divine force of what is revealed and is veiled.” ― A Thought by Jk the secret keeper
QUOTATION on LAUGHTER:
“It’s not all bad. Heightened self-consciousness, apartness, an inability to join in, physical shame and self-loathing—they are not all bad. Those devils have been my angels. Without them I would never have disappeared into language, literature, the mind, laughter and all the mad intensities that made and unmade me.” ― Stephen Fry, Moab Is My Washpot
“According to philosophers such as Nietzsche and Kant, nothing can be known about noumenal reality (not being able to be known through perception – Jk), not even that it exists.” — Dr. Niamh Clune – The Coming of the Feminine Christ
“…throughout the ages, humankind has striven to express the notion of soul, the fervour and truth accompanying vision and revelation, the divinity that speaks from within.” — Dr. Niamh Clune – Orange Petals in a Storm
“Early metaphysical poets…John Donne…extended metaphors that compared very dissimilar things…to make us think…to try to express the paradoxical nature of all things metaphysical…in the search for truth and meaning…a truth is only considered a truth if it expresses both opposites and everything in between.” — Dr. Niamh Clune – Exaltation of the Rose (Not Yet Released)
“T.S. Eliot is a fine example of a more modern metaphysical poet. He wrestles with noumenal experiences using extended metaphor, as the ‘Things of God’s cannot be known in any other way. ” — Dr. Niamh Clune – The Coming of the Feminine Christ
“In terms of modern metaphysical literature, writers such as Paolo Coelho, Herman Hesse, and Jean Paul Sartre weave philosophical concepts into simple stories to which most can relate. These stories make us think. They make us question the meaning of life. They ask us to reach beyond the world of tangible reality and allow soul into life.” — Dr. Niamh Clune – Orange Petals in a Storm
“These days, modern metaphysical/visionary literature often crosses genres and enters into the little celebrated field of magic realism. In this genre, the supernatural is part of tangible reality; spirit and nature are interwoven, inseparable, and unquestioned, and the extraordinary is made ordinary.” — Dr. Niamh Clune – Exaltation of the Rose (Not Yet Released)
“Metaphysical literature tells tales of the inner life. Usually these tales are told simply, in prose that reaches to express the beauty inherent in us and in the world about us. Its task is to give voice to soul and its yearning to transcend the suffering of everyday reality.” — Dr. Niamh Clune – The Coming of the Feminine Christ
Once In Your Life
Collage Created by j. kiley
Created May 17th 2013
Posted May 17th 2013 Nesta Robert “Bob” Marley, OM (6 February 1945 – 11 May 1981) was a Jamaican singer-songwriter and musician best known for his Reggae records. He was the rhythm guitarist and lead singer for the ska, rocksteady and reggae bands The Wailers (1963-1974) and Bob Marley & The Wailers (1974–1981). Marley remains the most widely known and the best-selling performer of reggae music, having sold more than 75 million albums worldwide. He is also credited with helping spread both Jamaican music and the Rastafari movement to a worldwide audience. He was a poet, philosopher, prophet, Rastafarian, vegetarian, an advocate of love and peace. He had eleven children. Because of his religious beliefs when it was discovered he had a melanoma in his toe he refused for it to be amputated and continued on with his tours and music. Eventually, the cancer was catching up with him and he tried natural treatments which were unsuccessful and on the way home from Germany to Jamaica, they made a stop over in Florida to seek emergency medical treatment. He died at Cedars of Lebanon Hospital in Miami (now University of Miami Hospital) on the morning of 11 May 1981, at the age of 36. The spread of melanoma to his lungs and brain caused his death. His final words to his son Ziggy were “Money can’t buy life”. Marley received a state funeral in Jamaica on 21 May 1981, which combined elements of Ethiopian Orthodoxy and Rastafari tradition. He was buried in a chapel near his birthplace with his red Gibson Les Paul or a Fender Stratocaster. His music is so alive as though his spirit were possessing it still today.
only once in your life by j. kiley (c) jennifer kiley
The LEGEND of Bob MarleyOnly once in your life, I truly believe, you find someone who can
completely turn your world around. You tell them things that you’ve
never shared with another soul and they absorb everything you say
and actually want to hear more. You share hopes for the future,
dreams that will never come true, goals that were never achieved
and the many disappointments life has thrown at you. When some-
thing wonderful happens, you can’t wait to tell them about it, know-
ing they will share in your excitement. They are not embarrassed to
cry with you when you are hurting or laugh with you when you make
a fool of yourself. Never do they hurt your feelings or make you feel
like you are not good enough, but rather they build you up and show
you the things about yourself that make you special and even beautiful.
There is never any pressure, jealousy or competition but only a quiet
calmness when they are around. You can be yourself and not worry
about what they will think of you because they love you for who you
are. The things that seem insignificant to most people such as a note,
song or walk become invaluable treasures kept safe in your heart to
cherish forever. Memories of your childhood come back and are so
clear and vivid it’s like being young again. Colours seem brighter and
more brilliant. Laughter seems part of daily life where before it was
infrequent or didn’t exist at all. A phone call or two during the day
helps to get you through a long day’s work and always brings a smile
to your face. In their presence, there’s no need for continuous conver-
sation, but you find you’re quite content in just having them nearby.
Things that never interested you before become fascinating because
you know they are important to this person who is so special to you.
You think of this person on every occasion and in everything you do.
Simple things bring them to mind like a pale blue sky, gentle wind or
even a storm cloud on the horizon. You open your heart knowing that
there’s a chance it may be broken one day and in opening your heart,
you experience a love and joy that you never dreamed possible. You
find that being vulnerable is the only way to allow your heart to feel
true pleasure that’s so real it scares you. You find strength in knowing
you have a true friend and possibly a soul mate who will remain loyal
to the end. Life seems completely different, exciting and worthwhile.
Your only hope and security is in knowing that they are a part of your
life. LOVE IS OUR DESTINY Bob Marley
This is a tribute to the legendary prophet, poet, philosopher, mystic
and Rastafari Nesta Robert Marley. He was one of our divine
messengers. Rest in Peace…The LEGEND of Bob Marley
QUOTATIONS on LOVE:
“I’m selfish, impatient and a little insecure. I make mistakes, I am out of control and at times hard to handle. But if you can’t handle me at my worst, then you sure as hell don’t deserve me at my best.” ― Marilyn Monroe
“You know you’re in love when you can’t fall asleep because reality is finally better than your dreams.”
― Dr. Seuss
“A friend is someone who knows all about you and still loves you” — Elbert Hubbard
“we accept the love we think we deserve.” ― Stephen Chbosky, The Perks of Being a Wallflower
“Only once in your life, I truly believe, you find someone who can completely turn your world around. You tell them things that you’ve never shared with another soul and they absorb everything you say and actually want to hear more. You share hopes for the future, dreams that will never come true, goals that were never achieved and the many disappointments life has thrown at you. When something wonderful happens, you can’t wait to tell them about it, knowing they will share in your excitement. They are not embarrassed to cry with you when you are hurting or laugh with you when you make a fool of yourself. Never do they hurt your feelings or make you feel like you are not good enough, but rather they build you up and show you the things about yourself that make you special and even beautiful.” — Bob Marley
“Love is that condition in which the happiness of another person is essential to your own.” ― Robert A. Heinlein, Stranger in a Strange Land
“Love is like the wind, you can’t see it but you can feel it.” ― Nicholas Sparks, A Walk to Remember
The Secret Keeper Opened Up Two Years Ago
WordPress Sent Me A Notification Moments Ago
Written by Jennifer Kiley
Created & Posted 05.06.13
Love has no other desire but to fulfill itself
Was Posted On May 6th 2011
moon watching over all — artist unknown 5.6.13 it was two years ago today
Love has no other desire but to fulfill itself
by jen kiley “the secret keeper” Posted May 6th 2011
This is an excerpt from a manuscript that I started writing while I was seeing M. who I felt was the best psychotherapist I ever worked with. She is my inspiration and muse. The stages that it is in now are more like a patchwork quilt of writings from notebooks and poems and letters and emails and role playing screenplays that I have written and continue to write everyday. I choose this blog site as a place where I can be open and honest with my thoughts and feelings and be the real person that I am in all the multiple facets of my psyche. I am hoping I will be able to post open and honest writings that help me develop and release what has and is happening in my life. Truth is what I am seeking and the revealing of secrets and recalling of memories are only some of what I want to express here on this blog. Hopefully, it will not all be serious. My new therapist wants me to laugh more and encourages me to watch shows and films that do just that, make me laugh. Modern Family and The Big Bang Theory are the best shows at creating that overwhelming feeling in me to feel hysterically silly and to laugh so hard I can barely catch my breath. I leave you to read what I am sharing. Be kind. I am new to this kind of truthful exposure.
9.20.10 – 2:15 am – monday
Reality…love…animals first…people…therapist before other people but S.O… my bird… my main kitties…fur…petting…loving…trusting…wanting love…wanting attention… petting…my bird sharing my meals…nothing better than that…sharing my juice… climbing all over me…getting up on my hand…sitting and resting on my shoulders or stomach for hours…nothing like it…sleeping with me while I write or work on the computer…hanging out together…my little buddy…my bird…my beautiful multi-colored protector…the most wonderful creature in the whole world…I feel that way about her …and I feel special ways about my special kitties too…snuggling with them…sleeping with them at night or when they sleep in my lap or draped over my arms in my chair …I love the feeling…I live for the moments…I live for those moments when M. smiles at me and tells me I am a good person and that I did good… when we looked into each others eyes when she was trying to get me to reach the child inside me…we both tried to get me there but it is a long distance inside to that place…
<3 Love <3
Love has no other desire but to fulfill itself
But if your love and must needs have desires,
Let these be your desires:
To melt and be like a running brook
That sings its melody to the night.
To know the pain of too much tenderness.
To be wounded by your own understanding of love;
And to bleed willingly and joyfully.
To wake at dawn with a winged heart
And give thanks for another day of loving;
To rest at the noon hour and meditate love’s ecstasy;
To return home at eventide with gratitude;
And then to sleep with a prayer
For the beloved in your heart
And a song of praise upon your lips.
~ by Kahlil Gibran ~
the 9th – the day I found out that M. was leaving, no longer to be my therapist. I found out later during our last session we would not be able to have any contact at all with each other for two years.
I dedicate the first post on “all is one” to M. (It didn’t take me long to change her name to “the secret keeper” and she is all mine to do with what I feel she needs to do.) She taught me that we are all connected no matter where we are in our lives. She is gone now – left abruptly from my life. It has caused me a great deal of pain and continues to do so. I love this woman more than can ever be expressed in words. Even Kahlil Gibran only comes slightly close to how I feel. We did some intense work together unearthing some of the memories of the abuse from my childhood and we tried to confront the issues that I am going through today. I am now seeing a new therapist that M. chose for me. She is quite good but I miss M. terribly and my psychological issues are only compounded by the loss of her in my life and in our therapeutic relationship. I stay connected to her through my writing. She continues to be my inspiration and my muse and I write to her in my notebooks to enter into my manuscript everyday and every night. She is there with me in those moments. It was because of her that I returned to my writing and she also brought me back to my roots in meditation. When she left I pulled back from meditating and certain music because it strongly reminded me of her and the level of pain and depression and suicidal thoughts I had were too difficult to experience in all of their intensity. She abandoned me. I miss her hugs; her voice; the way her eyes looked into mine; her gentleness; her understanding; her peacefulness and calmness and most of all her love. She is connected to my soul. I will love her always and forever.
This is just the beginning of writing here. If someone passes through and should happen to read any of what I have written I will tell you that there will be more and the depth I intend to fathom shall hopefully be expressive, thoughtful and revealing in honesty.
I add to what I wrote over two years ago, that I feel that I have followed the path that I stated back then and try to bring honesty and feelings to what is post on “the secret keeper.” I, also, try to have fun when there is a need for that. There is always a need to laugh and to cry. The first is laughing and I do that as often as possible. The second, crying, I still haven’t found the door that allows me to open it and the tears to be released. Only when something traumatizing occurs do I lose control of what holds back the tears. The Shadow Mother, the name I give my birth mother who is gone now, is the one who put my child in that prison many years ago when I was a defenseless child. I couldn’t fight her. Instead I would apologize to her and beg her forgiveness for punishing me. She forced that child to go to the deepest darkest dungeon inside my unconscious where there is no light for her to find her way out.
Those who have experienced or are experiencing brutality, remember and remind yourself that you didn’t do anything to deserve this kind of horrendous treatment. You need healing with the right person or people. I have been fortunate to have met different people in my life that have tried to help me. I feel, though, that I am very close to people in my life who are giving me a great deal of help with their love and support. It helps when you are surrounded by love and understanding. Love is so very important in everyone’s life. I feel that in my life now.
Writing “the secret keeper” has expanded my world and I feel so lucky to have met the people who I found through this world. One could say it is a very magical and mystical world where the unknown and impossible is knowable and possible.
I wondered why my muse wanted to watch movie trailers. She was stalling me until the announcement came through from WordPress, otherwise, I would never have realized the two year anniversary. I suppose I should send out a thank-you to “M” for leading me into the world of blogging. Honestly, I had another blog that I did for a short time. It was the oddest thing. I found myself on WordPress. I do not even remember why and the next thing I knew I had signed up to write a blog. My reaction: “I DID WHAT?” I was wondering what was I thinking about when I did that. I don’t know anything about writing a blog. I let it sit. Then one day I started to write. I wasn’t really myself when I was doing that blog so I gradually diminished its place in my life and that is when I realized I needed to create what eventually became “the secret keeper” but once was called “all is one” — that was named that for my meditative self but not who really needed this blog to be hers. I needed the healer and the to be healed to be what this blog was for and about. “the secret keeper” is for those who have secrets they need to reveal or for those who need a place to open up and have their secrets kept just that “secret.” Some secrets need to be shouted out loud and others need to be shared in a quiet way. The “evil” doers need to be exposed, those in pain need to know they are not alone.
I want to be able to write about any content that needs to be discussed. Hopefully, I have been doing that over the past two years, more being in the last year plus several months. I have made a commitment to myself to post something everyday. So far I have been doing that for awhile now. Doing a post a day has been good for me. It keeps my mind focused and for those who follow me and that I follow, it has been an experience to keep connected with all of you.
I keep growing and learning something all the time. One, that there is not enough time in one day for everything, but you try to fit it all in but find it exhausting and close to impossible but I am not saying it isn’t attempted. We are still learning about that one.
Did my muse or I find anything interesting in the movie trailers? Well, there is a movie with Robert De Niro, Diane Keaton and Susan Sarandon are in that is out now. The Big Wedding and I remember seeing Tom Cruise in one that is rather spooky and takes place in the future. No humans left on Earth as far as I can tell. Oblivion. Then some scary, creepy crap in between. The devil wants a baby. Probably Zombies. I wasn’t playing close attention. In fact, think I was eating cereal at the time. Put “The Big Wedding” trailer on again and it looks funny. Well, the trailer makes me laugh. Oh, the next trailer I do remember now. The movie titled: MUD has feeling of STAND BY ME but more law involved. Stars Matthew McConaughey & Reese Witherspoon and two great kid actors. Roku has some of the wildest choices of channels.
Thank you all for following and hope you find something here that you want to read, listen to, like, or have a comment you’d like to make, or just follow in your own quiet way. Anyway that you like, you are welcome. by Jennifer Kiley j.kiley jk the secret keeper jk the SK
first star on the right — abstract digital art
Metallica — Nothing Else Matters
(One of Several Videos I Posted In My First Month as “the secret keeper” Two Years Ago)
QUOTATIONS on PAST:
“Life can only be understood backwards; but it must be lived forwards.” ― Søren Kierkegaard
“You realize that our mistrust of the future makes it hard to give up the past.” ― Chuck Palahniuk, Survivor
“The past is never where you think you left it.” ― Katherine Anne Porter
“Yesterday is gone. Tomorrow has not yet come. We have only today. Let us begin.” ― Mother Teresa
“When we are tired, we are attacked by ideas we conquered long ago.” ― Friedrich Nietzsche
“It’s being here now that’s important. There’s no past and there’s no future. Time is a very misleading thing. All there is ever, is the now. We can gain experience from the past, but we can’t relive it; and we can hope for the future, but we don’t know if there is one.” ― George Harrison
“Do you not think that there are things which you cannot understand, and yet which are; that some people see things that others cannot? But there are things old and new which must not be contemplate by men´s eyes, because they know -or think they know- some things which other men have told them. Ah, it is the fault of our science that it wants to explain all; and if it explain not, then it says there is nothing to explain.” ― Bram Stoker, Dracula
“Night, the beloved. Night, when words fade and things come alive. When the destructive analysis of day is done, and all that is truly important becomes whole and sound again. When man reassembles his fragmentary self and grows with the calm of a tree.” ― Antoine de Saint-Exupéry
“To be sane, he held, was either to be sedated by melancholy or activated by hysteria, two responses which were ‘always and equally warranted for those of sound insight’. All others were irrational, merely symptoms of imaginations left idle, of memories out of work. And above these mundane responses, the only elevation allowable, the only valid transcendence, was a sardonic one: a bliss that annihilated the universe with jeers of dark joy, a mindful ecstasy. Anything else in the way of ‘mysticism’ was a sign of deviation or distraction, and a heresy to the obvious. (“The Medusa”)” ― Thomas Ligotti
“For if the will has nothing to employ it and love has no present object with which to busy itself, the soul finds itself without either support or occupation, its solitude and aridity cause it great distress and its thoughts involve it in the severest conflict.” ― Teresa of Ávila, The Life of Saint Teresa of Ávila by Herself
“In mysticism that love of truth which we saw as the beginning of all philosophy leaves the merely intellectual sphere, and takes on the assured aspect of a personal passion. Where the philosopher guesses and argues, the mystic lives and looks; and speaks, consequently, the disconcerting language of first-hand experience, not the neat dialectic of the schools. Hence whilst the Absolute of the metaphysicians remains a diagram —impersonal and unattainable—the Absolute of the mystics is lovable, attainable, alive.” ― Evelyn Underhill, Mysticism
“It has always been a happy thought to me that the creek runs on all night, new every minute, whether I wish it or know it or care, as a closed book on a shelf continues to whisper to itself its own inexhaustible tale. So many things have been shown so to me on these banks, so much light has illumined me by reflection here where the water comes down, that I can hardly believe that this grace never flags, that the pouring from ever-renewable sources is endless, impartial, and free.” ― Annie Dillard, Pilgrim at Tinker Creek
“Mystical experiences do not necessarily supply new ideas to the mind, rather, they transform what one believes into what one knows, converting abstract concepts, such as divine love, into vivid, personal, realities.” ― R.M. Jones
“Mystical insight and enlightenment occur when the veil between the worlds is lifted, the worlds are bridged, the gap closes, and we cross over.” ― Tom Cowan, Fire in the Head: Shamanism and the Celtic Spirit
“The heart of creativity is an experience of the mystical union; the heart of the mystical union is an experience of creativity.” ― Julia Cameron, The Artist’s Way: A Spiritual Path to Higher Creativity
I can crash down the gates of Heaven
Poetry by Niamh Clune & Jennifer Kiley
Artists Vincent van Gogh & Alexander Jansson
abstract streak lightning
Before I introduce the poetry I would like to introduce you to the secret keeper’s Guess Poet for today. She is far more than a poet but as a poet she is extremely brilliant and gifted in the use of words and the depth of her poetry will astound you. Here is just a tiny sampling of who Dr. Niamh Clune is and after this short bio will follow two more beautiful paintings, and poetry by Niamh Clune and by myself, the secret keeper. Following the poetry is a piece of music that will surprise our guest but she is familiar with the piece. It is quite beautiful. Then of course, a choice selection of quotations to fill your mind with, which by that time should be brimming over. So Please enjoy. jk the secret keeper
Niamh Clune is the author of the Skyla McFee series: Orange Petals in a Storm, and Exaltation of a Rose (which is due out in the near future. Keep you eyes and ears tuned in for when that launch will be made.) You will fall in love with Skyla McFee, a young girl who must go through the most harrowing experiences and survive the most horrible people to find the goodness in her life still exists. The first book, which is available now, opens up the story and quickly draws you in. You want so much to be there to protect and help Skyla. She does the most magical things with her imagination that will astonish you. Also, Niamh is the author of The Coming of the Feminine Christ. A true story about a most powerful experience. Niamh put a great deal of time and research into the writing of this magnificent 5 star book, just recently released on eBook and available now at an amazingly reasonable price. I have read this book and re-read it. There is so much to learn and to understand. I would like to add that Niamh has a CD titled “Touching Angels” which is quite magical and mystical to hear. Very soothing in places that help you to relax and unwind. I highly recommend all of these creations. I have them in my collection and would feel lost without them being in arms reach.
Niamh has produced an anthology of happy and sad stories from childhood: Every Child is Entitled to Innocence. The proceeds of this book go to Child Helpline International. She, also, quite recently, brought together the art of many poets, writers, photographers and painters who donated their work to put together for two different Anthologies. The first is titled: Song of Sahel, this is to help the people of Sahel a vast region in Africa suffering from an extremely long drought, and it continues and the people continue to suffer. Two songs were written by Niamh and performed by her daughter Aleisha Shimizu and produced to go with the Anthology to raise funds to help the people of Sahel. They are all still available separately, Song of Sahel & Island of Hope) and the second anthology is: All The Lonely People, about loneliness and the forgotten people. It, also, include artists views on aloneness. Loneliness has become an epidemic all over the world and includes people of all ages who find they are without the contact of people who show them any care or recognition that they exist. It is bad in nursing homes where often people are thrown away to live out the rest of their lives with out hopes of anyone ever showing them any love or attention ever again. It is not just the elders in our society who suffer from loneliness, it is people of all ages. This Anthology is available for free as a download through Plum Tree Books. There is a link coming up shortly which should lead you to the location to download “All The Lonely People.”
More of what Dr. Niamh Clune has done in her extremely active life is to have worked in Africa for Oxfam and UNICEF in her career as a psychotherapist. She is the founder of Plum Tree Books, which has a philosophy that is unique, in that it encourages creativity in many forms for many ages. She is an award-winning social entrepreneur, an environmental campaigner and a singer/songwriter. She does a great deal more than this brief biography states. To learn more about her visit her blog at http://ontheplumtree.wordpress.com/ and Plum Tree Books on Facebook and the Plum Tree Books and Art site online. If you want, look along the right column of my blog the secret keeper and scroll down. You will find images you can click on which will take you to many of the sites I mentioned and also to the sites where you will find Niamh’s books. jk the secret keeper
vincent van gogh starry night on the rhone
Written by Niamh Clune
May 1st 2013
I can crash down the gates of Heaven
take it by storm.
pluck inspiration from fiery ether
to bring to earth.
to light you when you’re cold
to feed you when you’re hungry
to help you remember from whence you came.
I am then made of air
taking refuge in a tree
Sooner or later
that which was stolen from the gods
breeds its own wanting
wave on wave of searing sorrow
surfaces from core
floods through me
forces its way out
crying for Heaven
to be returned to the beautiful
from whence it came.
When you arrived
I was hungry and cold
And had no memory
Of where or who I am
Help me soar
Let me fly with you
Through the air
Freeing me from the pain
Give me to Heaven
To be held in an angel’s arms
Until I regain my knowledge
Of who I am
Stay with me awhile
Until the waves of sorrow
Pass from my memories
Crying out the feelings
Screaming their way
Out of me
Finally the floods are released
Letting me finally find peace
With the spirit
Resting inside of me
Am I fractured, when in the wrath of sunlight streaming across my sky,
I cloak myself in darkness cool and safe?
Am I fractured if Colour speaks of secrets more ancient than this sun – speaks of a time before beginning,
when all was unformed, inherent, ready to burst upon this Blue?
When All was tacit – every thought to be heard,
every dream to be shared, every tear to be shed.
I go back there into Creation’s womb to the fiery Coloured salamanders
that spark and illuminate my Heavens.
I know them in essence.
Am I mad for seeing into that other realm?
Then, so be it. Far more beautiful is that Sun.
Unchain my weary spirit from this violent dawning.
a clear enough understanding through perceptions
you are not fractured
there is no madness inside of you
it is excitement in finding
that which you were seeking.
Fire Spirits being your friends,
lit the path of your journey.
No madness in the seeing
a desired destination
inviting one to breathe
to hear the words of your dreams welcoming,
an echoing from the eternal muse,
hearing and understanding
the meaning of your soul
the symbols resound
in their open minds.
Your tears are watering their world
with your release
the acceptance of their inviting freedom
to be your real self.
Here your spirit is accepted
To be free.
The old world
a distant shadow.
You were never fractured
Being able to hear the Colour spirit’s voice
Communicating from a world unknown
to those who cannot hear,
who have no understanding
your openness has the capacity
to decipher their meanings
to go to their depth of perception
to absorb the wordless meanings of Colour’s definitions.
There is no madness
To want to be
to see into this other realm
to have it so open to you
it offers safe passage
to be one with their world
as your weariness fades away.
This is bliss
you have expressed
you have found it
time to celebrate
it is difficult to leave
to re-enter the storm
through which you must pass
to return to a world far less inviting
to leave an understanding
such as this realm has
it draws you into its beauty
into its acceptance of your soul
“Sometimes it’s not enough to know what things mean, sometimes you have to know what things don’t mean.” ― Bob Dylan
“Don’t you understand that we need to be childish in order to understand? Only a child sees things with perfect clarity, because it hasn’t developed all those filters which prevent us from seeing things that we don’t expect to see.” ― Douglas Adams, Dirk Gently’s Holistic Detective Agency
“Deep in the human unconscious is a pervasive need for a logical universe that makes sense. But the real universe is always one step beyond logic.” ― Frank Herbert, Dune
“I think it happens to everyone as they grow up. You find out who you are and what you want, and then you realize that people you’ve known forever don’t see things the way you do. And so you keep the wonderful memories, but find yourself moving on.”
― Nicholas Sparks, True Believer
“When you were in love, you were capable of learning everything and of knowing things you had never dared even to think, because love was the key to understanding all of the mysteries.” ― Paulo Coelho, Brida
“All that we see or seem is but a dream within a dream.” ― Edgar Allan Poe
“The more I see, the less I know for sure.” ― John Lennon
“The world is full of magic things, patiently waiting for our senses to grow sharper.” ― W.B. Yeats
“What you see and what you hear depends a great deal on where you are standing. It also depends on what sort of person you are.”
― C.S. Lewis, The Magician’s Nephew
“There are things known and there are things unknown, and in between are the doors of perception.” ― Aldous Huxley
Private Writings: Chapter #7 — We Chose Life
Written by Jennifer Kiley
Illustrated by j. kiley
First Posting 03.19.13
Posted Weekly Early Tuesday Morning
Chapter #7 Posted 30th April 2013
WARNING: ADULT LANGUAGE AND CONTENT.
NOT SUITABLE FOR CHILDREN.
ALL CHARACTERS ARE FICTITIOUS.
ANYONE RESEMBLING ANYONE LIVING OR DEAD
IS PURELY COINCIDENTAL.
Private Writings: Chapter #7 — We Chose Life
Tuesday, November 13th, 2007
I must bring this to your immediate attention. Last week, when I wrote to you in our usual letter, I included a poem. It was a raw and painful poem to write. I would really like to discuss some of it with you in this letter. I hope you don’t mind. It has been making me feel rather vulnerable, even though I haven’t sent you the letter yet. Someday, any day, might be when I do get brave enough and really write these letters with the direct expectation of mailing them to you or handing them to you in person. The second way would make me feel more assured that you received the letters personally and no one else touched them or might accidentally open them. I don’t think anyone at the counseling center would ever do something like that intentionally. But these are very private letters meant for your eyes only. Just thinking about discussing the poem I wrote is making me feel rather anxious. In fact, I feel like I am starting to have a panic attack. Let me take a Klonopin before we continue. After that I will post the poem and the paragraph that followed it. I want to discuss that along with the poem. I’ll be right back.
Here I am, back really quickly. It will only take about 15 minutes for the med to take effect. Well, here goes, this is the poem once again appearing in one of my letters I am writing to only you. If I ever give these letters to you, I must have your word that you will never ever show these to anyone else. No one must know what I am telling you. These have to be our secret. If you only knew how I feel inside.
How do I really feel about you Annie? Right now, I have no idea. Too afraid to go inside to find out what I truly feel. The whole of the world confounds me. It just makes me feel depressed. It just feels that I can’t hold onto the people I love. They just tend to die. It’s not like they’re even old. When you die in your twenties, I would call that dying “Forever Young.” Too many die FY. You’re not going to do that, are you Annie?
What do you think of my poem? If you read it now, how would you decipher it? I’ll play both of us. You go first, or should I? Let me pull out the first three lines. The writer, the lover, the thinker: isn’t something missing? Whose feeling anything? The lover is just sexual. You can do that without any feelings at all. The writer is mental but could be emotional with the words they are expressing. But I don’t think so. It’s cerebral. The thinker, existential separation anxiety filled with analytical theorizing until infinity gets exhausted.
Someone is missing. Someone who connects in a soulful way with people or animals. Who is that? Lets think about it. Send out feelings to find out who they are? You think a spiritualist. I thought I was one of those people. I believe in the spirit, the soul, the astral body, the separation from the physical. The soul is just carrying the weight of the body while its heart beats and air fills its lungs and the grey matter still is able to function to make the physical tissues of the body perform.
I was thinking tonight about Heaven Annie. As I made it up the stairs to bed and my cat always raced up the stairs before me. We play that game every night. I make believe I’m going to beat him tonight. It’s always the challenge. There’s no way in Hell that I can ever beat him. But he loves the game. You want to know his name? He goes by many. He has such a magnificent personality. We call him Sparky because he sparks like fireworks. It’s not his official name. That one is proper. We named him Higgins after the character in the great Broadway play Pygmalion. He responds to anything but Higgins and he rather prefers being called Sparky.
What the Hell are we talking about? Is it about making it through with some enjoyment and to try to forget about all the nightmares? Or are we suppose to face the nightmares? The soul tells me that we have to or we won’t make it. I have too many. How about you? What are your bad dreams? What tried to fuck you up? Any bad people in your dreams? You seem pretty together but anyone can put a mask on. Why do you suppose we all try to hide from everyone? We are all human. Our feelings fall somewhere into the human category. Are we afraid people will think we are crazy or too weird?
Back to the poem, the next three lines are pretty explosive. Feeling the fool for not hearing, the silence for not screaming and feelings trying to blow the whole thing wide open but being stopped somehow. What stopped me? You probably would like to know that. A good reason, how about one of the abusers threatened to kill me right at the moment I told him if he didn’t stop I would go to the police. Wrong thing to say to a nasty, mean pedophile. He tried to kill me but he stopped at just making me feel he was going to crush my head into stones like Stonehenge. He pulled back but not until he told me he would not only kill me but my whole family. Those other people who also abused me. For some reason I felt I needed to protect them. I didn’t care if he killed me. My life was ruined. They all in combination destroyed who I am. They crushed my life. I am dead. My spirit has been stolen from me. It’s like in Peter Pan, they stole my shadow, my reflection. I don’t have one any longer. I am invisible. That’s why no one can see me. Why I never get noticed except when someone wants to hurt me or make me feel more pain so that I really do want to be invisible. I just wanted to die.
The only reason I stayed alive was I loved my grandmother. The funny thing about it all, my grandma, she had an accident shortly after this and went into the hospital. She never went home again. I saw her once at the hospital. I climbed into her hospital bed with her. Under the oxygen tent, we hugged. I held her so close. Her arms used her strength, as much as she could and held me close. Then it was time to go. I gave a bunch of kisses to say goodbye to her. I didn’t know I would never see her alive again.
She died in protest. They wanted her to become one of the forgotten. She wasn’t going to let them do that to her. She told them that it was something she would never do, going to a nursing home. She stopped her breathing and her heart from beating. She left me behind. I stopped living when she stopped, too.
“The feelings trying to explode…Where was the awareness?” I was clueless on what or who to, if anyone, to talk to. I never talked to anyone back then. Words were not my companion when spoken out loud. Not something I even knew how to do. Didn’t know how. Had no practice. What would have been the right words to say anyway? I didn’t know them to say or to even write down on paper. I am only learning now how to connect my words with feeling.
“We say ‘Welcome to the surface.’ It should have been Welcome to the circus. “Now what needs to be done?” We need to find someone new that we can really talk to. Someone who will listen and really hear what we are saying. Not judge us. Try to understand. And not constantly criticize us and try to put us down. Diminish who we are. That’s been done all our life except in college. For some reason I mattered when I was in college. I felt important and wanted. The same happened when I was part of the Women’s Center when I lived in Connecticut. It’s not so much I want to feel important. I just want to feel like I matter. Everyone I think needs to feel important in some way.
“Releasing the energy ensnared for decades amongst twisted webs…” I have been so blocked. My thoughts and feelings didn’t have an outlet. And I didn’t know how to say the words. I was made my own prisoner eventually, out of fear. Demons possessed me with fear. All the demons from all the years of abuse and made to feel like I was nothing, a nobody that had no worth or purpose.
“The voice is seeking freedom but holding onto multiple secrets.” We have a central voice but we also have multiple voices. With all the alters, we have to listen to all their voices and all the needs they tell us that they have. It’s hard to keep track or remember. It is really confusing inside our head sometimes. But we were working with a woman therapist who had her moments of quality therapy but she had her problems. I have an obsessive alter who was in love with her and obsessed with her. Let’s call it quite dependent. We were attached. We needed her. She was the first therapist that figured out what was going on inside our head. She figured out the DID. I have to admit when she told us we has other personalities, it really freaked us out. Kind of went into shock and some heavy denial. No way could that be possible. She said the psychiatrist agreed with her after he tested me.
That was the big secret. We thought realizing we were Gay was enough of a shock but being MPD was more difficult. Coming out of that closet was worst. It took us a while before we could tell Scottie and we had been together for a long time at that point. Almost 15 years. When I found the courage to tell her, her reaction was: “Oh, I already knew.” I asked her why she didn’t tell me. “Because you needed to figure that out yourself.” Of course, she was right. It wasn’t easy. Like I usually do, I bought or borrowed every book I could find on the subject of MPD. I learned it all. Enough to get a degree.
There is so much more to discuss in this poem. I packed it with a great deal of exposure of my past. I need a break. I may try to answer more of the points in this letter or carry it over to the next letter.
It’s a list of some of the confusion that smashed into our life. It started when we were really little and didn’t stop. The abuse continued when we were adults. No was the word that meant nothing to anyone who wanted something from us. Our body betrayed us. We couldn’t stop anyone from forcing us. Some didn’t even realize they were forcing us but they were. If we shut down inside we became frozen. We couldn’t stop what was happening. This started when we were little and continued into our adult relationships. It was all on some degree of force. We weren’t there in our bodies. We left or went deep inside or floated on the ceiling until it was over.
It wasn’t consensual. It was a form of rape and abuse. We wanted love but not sex. We didn’t want to be sexually aroused because it would always end with us disappearing and our bodies would shut down. It was like turning the keys off in a car. The engine would stop running and so would we. Eventually we created an outside person, a human robot, who faked our life like a computer. She would accumulate data. And learned the expected behavior and that would be hos she would perform. We were safe inside while she was out there living a fake life as a fake person. A puppet represented us. She hid in plain sight. No one would find us with the puppet self having a controlled pattern of behavior, always asking questions to improve her performance do she wouldn’t be detected.
Our hiding place was discovered by this woman therapist. She saw through the facade. She was tricky and scary to us. She got to close. We started to care too much. She opened up the rawness in us. She made us need people. Specifically, she made us need her too desperately. We felt so close to her. But more like the fox in Le Petite Prince by Antoine de St. Exupery. She tamed part of our wildness. She made us want to be loved by her. Being loved and wanting to love in return puts such a control on you. I began to develop an overwhelming need for her. It was driving me mad. Everything started falling apart. My life felt out of control.
Our hiding place was revealed. There was no place to go except into madness and wanting to commit suicide. Suicide has always been a part of our life. It is a part of our breathing. It is always an alternative to the divine madness. We can escape that way any time we chose. But it is not an answer we can choose. Not with all that we are responsible for. Our life needs us to be in it. Everything has changed. We are learning to begin to live. We have found a purpose. It is delicate and sometimes difficult to balance but we are giving our new life all that we are able to give it. We know and are learning what we are able to do. We are able to write. We are able to be creative. Our artistic nature is starting to blossom. We are letting it be free. It likes that. It feels like are trusted to let the muse guide us. She always seems to be when we need her. We don’t push it. We let it be a natural flow. We like, no we love where we are now. It does have its difficulties with the mentally creative activities that bombard our brain. But we work hard on that more with our doc then with Mr. Xxx. He is about as helpful as a dead skeleton. His sense of warmth and communication I’d to tell stories that do not at all relate to what I am feeling or going through. He doesn’t help me at all except to give me reasons to escape my life. He lets me run away. I know I have my weaknesses but I need to find my life before I die or I kill myself because I can’t live with the confusion any longer or the depressions or rage.
I want to say that I am here and I want to stay alive. We want to be here. We choose life.
We fought through them trying to destroy us. They didn’t succeed. We are still alive. No matter how many battles. No matter how many nights we have to fight to make it alive til morning gets here. Therapy, knowing my psychoanalyst is there is so reassuring. It means at least one person is out there in our Universe that knows we are alive. That we exist. Being alive is a higher grade than just existing. The artist that lives inside of us makes it all matter. Otherwise, nothing else matters. If I didn’t have my art, my animals, the women I love and the men who are decent that I love. A good home and family who I love and who love me. The special people who know who they are. They are part of what make this life I live matter. But that involves some major time tripping. I am having visions of a future in my life, but I must be patient and wait for that time to happen. It is a good sign that I make it to that future. Others do not.
Here in 2007 I have you Annie. I am focusing on that. Your presence is beginning to mean something more to me than I even understand at this moment. We will see where that takes us.
Until next time.
ATTENTION ANNIE: At this moment I am not trying to be a coward, but I feel if I hold back now or never send this to you, I am freeing myself up to write whatever without censorship. On some future date, if trust grows, I will release my letters to you. What I write in honesty, I will keep confidential. On my honour, no others shall see these pages.
Madison Tayler’s Fantasy of Annie Haskell’s Office as a Psychoanalyst.
Somewhere In Time – John Barry
By Madison Taylor
Give your soul an awakening
Listen quietly through the inspiring music
Enter the encouraging words
The ideas arise from their varied meanings
What is most on your mind
What is churning up your insides
Needing to be talked about
Preferably released from your mind
Where trapped are the feelings
That the thoughts are made of in the silence
Love is an all-consuming obsession
Filling the spaces in between
Every break of thought
To throw off the concentration
So many who feel love from inside their heart
They died or disappeared
Called away from their lives abruptly
You could say they had a calling
A calling not dealing with fairness
Or consideration for the pain
Created from their loss
Investing in vulnerability
Rips out the heart
Tears it like dogs with a pile
Of meaningless thrown away leftovers
The heart has been a left over piece of flesh
Good for a treat
For a hungry mouth
But for love an empty plate
Starving the hungry for tenderness and love
Wanting to be held in a warm hug
Being caressed with a slow gentleness
Giving time to be caught up to the touch
Of a lover who wants to feel safe and secure
Willing to wait until you’re where the love making is
To be part of what is happening
Slowing down when the touching starts moving too fast
Needing a caress slow making you feel
They realize you are there
And want to be there
Part of making the love work
You want to be part of it
Participating in all the feelings of touch
Reaching all the plateaus
Together with your partner
Knowing your partner is with you
Wants to be with you
While you arrive at the high together
Coming down together slowly after
Feeling the rippling through your bodies together
Melting bodies drifting into relaxation
Followed by the wonders of secure arms
Drifting off together into the dream of sleep
Contented that a wish has found a way at last
To be realized.
The labyrinth called “Wandering Wonderland.” It is where Madison, Scottie and their cats, Patrick, Mikey and Toker love to escape to
Madison’s “woods of imagination” where she takes long walks to reflect. It starts just past the labyrinth
QUOTATIONS from: Private Writings
The beginning always starts out with a dream.
It is all a dream
In our own nightmares”
— Madison Taylor
“For that fine madness still he did retain,
Which rightly should possess a poet’s brain.”
“Who ever loved that loved not at first sight?”
Christopher Marlowe for “Hero and Leander”
“A therapeutic relationship is often more psycho-emotionally intimate than a marriage, or a romantic attachment. I know things about my patients that they would never dream of revealing to their spouses or families. Why is that? One word — trust. If you do not have a connection with a therapist, you cannot trust them. If you do not have trust, you will not expose yourself, and if you do not expose your innermost being, what good is the therapy?” — unknown but ask any great therapist
“Men have called me mad, but the question is not yet settled, whether madness is or is not the loftiest intelligence…whether much that is glorious–whether all that is profound–does not spring from disease of thought…” — Edgar Allan Poe
QUOTATIONS on LIVING:
“There is an ecstasy that marks the summit of life, and beyond which life cannot rise. And such is the paradox of living, this ecstasy comes when one is most alive, and it comes as a complete forgetfulness that one is alive. This ecstasy, this forgetfulness of living, comes to the artist, caught up and out of himself in a sheet of flame…” — Jack London
“There are two kinds of people. One kind…they congealed into their final selves…you can expect no more surprises from them…the other kind keep moving, changing… They are fluid. They keep moving forward and making new trysts with life, and the motion of it keeps them young. In my opinion, they are the only people who are still alive…” ― Gail Godwin
Absolutely brilliant material. Learning so much from reading your DreamWeaver’s Corner. I am reblogging. Going to take my mini dissertation with me. Thank you for your insight and for sharing it with all of us. Love this post especially. The House is kind of scary but it is worth the journey into the collective unconscious. Very Cool. jk the secret keeper
I add this as something that I wrote on the blog site where I follow On The Plum Tree & DreamWeaver’s Corner & all the other special creative treats one finds there…DreamWeaver’s Corner: Imagine the Psyche is like a House What is hiding in the cavern of dusty decaying remnants of the unconscious? We join with the collective which must have been around since the beginning of time. So the wisdom that is contained within the darkness must be infinite also. Our life must have added to the collective, bringing in a freshness to mix amongst the remnants of the infinite. All our lives are connected to this place in the farthest reaches of this ancient enclosure. Is it where the dark feeds and re-energizes? And when nightmares frighten us. They resurrect from this darkness and feed our sleeping minds with their collective pieces of memory or symbols.
This may seem like a strange question. The collective is the unconscious and is joined as one unconscious. Then theoretically my nightmares or life experiences that are stored away in my unconscious join the collective unconscious. Blending all unconsciousness into the one, the collective. So when I dream, my soul is drawing on the symbols accumulated form everyone’s unconscious. Does this mean the collective unconscious assimilates all perceptions? That they are converted into symbols so that all can draw from the collective unconscious contributed to by all in the conscious world? All experience is eventually converted and stored in the unconscious and filtered back into the collective unconscious.
So, I conclude this dialectic that we are all connected through the collective unconscious. All experience that is stored away eventually ends up as symbols of the collective unconscious. The symbols in our dreams which our souls bring forth to the conscious mind which we can choose to analyze, will enable us to communicate with the soul. By doing this it enables us to communicate with the collective unconscious. Is this too convoluted or have I understood how this tentatively works?
If I have gone too far or seem too out there just say so. My mind gets way too analytical. The point is to connect to the collective unconscious and the symbols stored there in order that we may communicate with the soul and, also, to release the darkness that haunts us. Lastly, to be able to release the mess that has accumulated and is preventing us from releasing our emotions through feelings. When this is done we will be freeing our self to experience life more fully and actually feel life.
I do not expect you to answer this but i think I wrote my way through understanding some of what you have been writing in your DreamWeaver’s Corner.
Thank you for such a profound way of describing how one should see the layers that lead to the collective unconscious. Absolutely Brilliant Niamh. I think I am getting it. Now I just need to allow my soul to bring to me the symbols. I feel she is beginning to do that. I want to understand and be able to release my emotions through my feeling them. It would be such a freedom to be able to express them freely again, the way I did as a child before those around me shut me down along with my emotions.
That was a catharsis of sorts, more mental than emotional but a little of that also. Once again, TY Niamh. Mine blowing material. :-) jk
The upper story is modern, bright. This is home to our consciousness and day-to-day reality. But wait! There is more. Descend the stairs with me to the ground floor to an older, darker floor. Imagine it furnished in medieval style. In these rooms, the personal unconscious is connected to cultural, mythic images that still influence today’s thinking and social mores. For example, the medieval Grail myth inspires the Hero’s journey, the personal quest – a recurrent theme classically expounded in much of our religion, film, art, and music.
Imagine a heavy door in the far wall, ornately carved with symbolism. Open it to discover a hidden room with walls that are made of stone. These are roman walls, dating back to when the house was originally constructed. Examining them, we discover how our collective memory is…
“Catherine Earnshaw, may you not rest as long as I am living. You said I killed you–haunt me then. The murdered do haunt their murderers. I believe–I know that ghosts have wandered the earth. Be with me always–take any form–drive me mad. Only do not leave me in this abyss, where I cannot find you! Oh, God! It is unutterable! I cannot live without my life! I cannot live without my soul!” ― Emily Brontë, Wuthering Heights
“Stories you read when you’re the right age never quite leave you. You may forget who wrote them or what the story was called. Sometimes you’ll forget precisely what happened, but if a story touches you it will stay with you, haunting the places in your mind that you rarely ever visit.” ― Neil Gaiman, M is for Magic
“Heaven is comfort, but it’s still not living.” ― Alice Sebold, The Lovely Bones
“The cries of the dead are terrible indeed; you should try not to hear them.” ― Philip K. Dick, VALIS
“Each leaf that brushed his face deepened his sadness and dread. Each leaf he passed he’d never pass again. They rode over his face like veils, already some yellow, their veins like slender bones where the sun shone through them. He had resolved himself to ride on for he could not turn back and the world that day was as lovely as any day that ever was and he was riding to his death.” ― Cormac McCarthy, Child of God
“Ghosts could walk freely tonight, without fear of the disbelief of men; for this night was haunted, and it would be an insensitive man who did not know it.” ― John Steinbeck, Tortilla Flat
“The popular notion that ghosts are likely to be seen in a graveyard is not borne out by psychical research… A haunting ghost usually haunts a place that a person lived in or frequented while alive… Only a gravedigger’s ghost would be likely to haunt a graveyard.” ― John H. Alexander, Ghosts! Washington Revisited: The Ghostlore of the Nation’s Capitol
“A scene should be selected by the writer for haunted-ness-of-mind interest. If you’re not haunted by something, as by a dream, a vision, or a memory, which are involuntary, you’re not interested or even involved.” ― Jack Kerouac, Book of Sketches
“Libraries are full of ghosts, books being the most haunted things of all.” ― Maya Panika
“Ghosts don’t haunt us. That’s not how it works. They’re present among us because we won’t let go of them.”
“I don’t believe in ghosts,” I said, faintly.
“Some people can’t see the color red. That doesn’t mean it isn’t there,” she replied.”
― Sue Grafton, M Is for Malice
“Here and there and not just in books we catch glimpses of a world of once upon a time and they lived happily ever after, of a world where there is a wizard to give courage and a heart, an angel with a white stone that has written on it our true and secret name, and it is so easy to dismiss it all that it is hardly worth bothering to do. … But if the world of the fairy tale and our glimpses of it here and there are only a dream, they are one of the most haunting and powerful dreams that the world has ever dreamed…” ― Frederick Buechner, Telling the Truth: The Gospel as Tragedy, Comedy, and Fairy Tale