The Dream I Had Of Healing the Inner-Child

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For the longest time, I haven’t blogged. And I’m not sure if that’s a necessary statement if, perhaps, you’ve been reading articles from my blog or website. I can’t say for sure as to “why”. If you read my Facebook wall, I have plenty to say. Of that much, you are already aware.

The other day, a good writing buddy, Michael Sutch (I posted a link so that you’d click on it. Hint, Hint…) suggested I start a blog. But…but…I have one. So, here I am beginning, once again, to do just that–start blogging.

I grew up not hearing much about the term “inner-child” and if I did hear it, I didn’t hear it. Maybe it simply wasn’t a good time in my life for it to resonate. But once it did, layers of the past began revisiting me in physical representations of family I thought I’d cut ties with, situations motivated by intentions to bog me down by stirring up stress and fear, and my own personal responses to situations in everyday life that I hadn’t realized were sparked by my lack of interest in my inner-child.

Day by day, as I worked on each aspect of the situation–whether that work came by not feeding energy into the 3D manifestations brought on by family, cutting energetic cords and following through by also cutting those cords in the physical world, and changing my headspace when encountering other situations that would have normally angered me or stressed me out.

As I did these things, layers of old wounds began peeling off. The irony? Each time I thought that I was fully healed, I found an even deeper wound. What a journey?! What a time to take in a deep breath of gratitude and just know that I wouldn’t be given anything that I couldn’t handle.

I learned to trust, mostly in myself and in the Universe, and that, my friends, is an empowering thing to embrace!

Someday, I’ll break that story down a little more because, I’m telling you…it’s been quite a ride! But for now, my primary goal is to post about a dream I had a few nights ago.

I was taken to a room, and I was very aware. Was it the Akashic record? I can’t be certain because mine has always looked different from this particular vision. One of my guides was with me and pointed to a bookcase with shelves lined with pastel colored books–pinks, purples, greens, yellows, and blues.

The most prominent was a light pink book with a heart cut out on the front and lace sewn around it. When this guide communicated with me, he explained that each of the books in front of me held the answers to every question I could ever ask about my childhood, and believe me when I say…years ago, I had many questions. He went on to explain that each book held the Universal aspects of my difficult childhood, the reasons why, what I was there to learn…anything I could ever want clarified.

I took in the baby-powder smell and the glowing softness of each book. Then, I turned to him and responded that I actually had no more loose ends to tie up, no more questions. There was nothing more about my childhood that I felt was unresolved, or painful. And that moment, was so powerful for me…just WOW!

I woke up and took in all the details of that encounter. Was that it? The end of one journey?

I certainly feel like it is. I truly believe that when we no longer have points of confusion, fear, questions, or doubt that we, without a doubt, have healed.

There’s so much incredible light and truth in that experience. I’ve been spending a lot of time meditating on my gratitude for it.

I’m excited to see what journey lies ahead.

Peace and Love Until Next Time,

Erin

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Erin’s Book Review of “Kind Nepenthe”

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“The leaves are all brown.” And no, I didn’t go off the deep-end–I didn’t misquote The Mamas & The Papas lyrics– I’m not that kinda girl…don’t you all know that by now? SMDH.

“What are you doing, then?”

I’m quoting little Megan in Matthew Brockmeyer’s debut novel “Kind Nepenthe” that takes place in Humboldt County, California–more specifically, in the dead center of marijuana country…oh, now I have your attention. Great!

Throughout his work, Brockmeyer leaves no stone unturned–metaphorically, that is, and this begins with the title itself and its tragic-beautiful tie-in to the novel. Allow me to save you a bit o’ Googling. Nepenthe is a mythical drug believed to erase sorrow and suffering.

You’re welcome, by the way.

From the first page, I couldn’t help but feel an unsettling presence that seemed to float along with me through the piece–one of the many aspects that made putting “Kind Nepenthe” down, next to impossible–that’s right, not even a tub of gas station nachos was enough to lure me away from the deep-rooted–no pun intended–okay, bad joke– evil that was about to take place, and no amount of therapy sessions would’ve ever prepared me for the ending. How did it end? Here’s the obligatory “Buy” link.

Muwhahaha…

We meet Rebecca–a dreadlock sporting, vegan hippie type who, tired of society, wishes to raise her daughter, Megan, in a quiet setting where they can live off the land. Speaking of land? Matthew Brockmeyer has an impressive knowledge of horticulture so I had to ask him if his repertoire came from research or experience.

“Well, my wife is an herbalist and I am a permaculture designer. We live on a small farm/homestead. So, most of this knowledge did come first hand. I love the use of nature in literature, both as world building and as metaphor. In particular, John Steinbeck and Cormac McCarthy both use it to great effect. You can convey so much with descriptions of the natural world, from majestic and awe inspiring beauty, to a forlorn sense of dread and creepiness.”

Squeaky grocery cart wheels aside–okay, only McCarthy fans will get it…hmm–the “Creep” factor is ever-present. There’s this whole Stephen King vibe in the ‘recovering’ addict, Diesel who is struggling to rekindle a relationship with his son DJ in anticipation of becoming a grandfather–all the feels, right? Maybe. If what you’re feeling is an eerie vigilance. So much so, that if Cormac McCarthy and Stephen King had a love child, it might be “Kind Nepenthe”, and Thomas Hardy just may have Saturday visitation.

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“Diesel had pictured the boy’s face as the metal tore into it, crushing his head into a pulp of blood and bone in the gravel.” (Kind Nepenthe)

 

Everybody is watching for something– Calendula, Rebecca’s ‘hippie’ boyfriend, is watching the grow room, Rebecca’s watching for Coyote, the owner of the land, to return and pay them, and Diesel is watching his son DJ follow in his footsteps of drug addiction and domestic violence.

All the while… who is watching Megan?

The land?

Yikes… and double-yikes, because I’m saying…it’s the same land where Spider, the ghostly solitaire-playing creeper, buried dead bodies.

Back to the solitaire…I put the question to Brockmeyer–Would he play solitaire with a ghost? He wittingly points out the flaw in my question–smartass…yeesh.

Even so, here’s what he had to say:
“Well, it’s a one-person game, hence the name. That’s the thing about ghosts, their utter aloneness, separate from everything yet stuck there just the same. Would I play cards with a ghost? Sure. I’ll play cards with anyone or anything, I suppose. As long as they’re buying the drinks.”

Despite the sarcasm of the above answer, I still enjoyed “Kind Nepenthe”–for anyone who hasn’t already drawn that conclusion. What made the book real to me was the characters: the dichotomy of hippie culture meets that of gun-toting-good-‘ol-boy, makes for the perfect storm once the two enemies meet–literally a storm.

Who doesn’t know the lady who lives in a trailer, watches home shopping channels, and buys trinkets such as Christmas ornaments? The absent father struggling to clean up and reconnect with his son? The mother who wants to make a better life for her child?

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“This (“Kind Nepenthe”) was a long time coming. I had the idea of a horror story set in a back-hills marijuana grow for some time before I ever commenced to putting it down in writing. Southern Humboldt County, California, where I live, is world famous for its cannabis cultivation. Being a horror freak it occurred to me long ago that I need to write a horror story about the crazy clash of cultures here between rednecks and hippies. It took about a year to write the rough draft, and then another year to rewrite it. There were significant changes in the rewrite, whole sections edited out and new ones written in. Then I spent several months editing it down from 76,000 words to 70,000 in order to quicken the pace, make it meaner and leaner. I’m terrified of boring the reader.” –Matthew Brockmeyer

 

When we sew evil into physical nature, we can’t help but reap that same darkness, and this is the perfect juxtaposition to the human element–when we’re ensnared by our own dreams, when they turn dark, and hold us captive, do we reap a bleak future?

Perhaps we do, and in that, we find that maybe it’s not the dead we should fear. Maybe we should be more afraid and aware of the rapid transition of our best intentions into malice and how that translates into our future.

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“Even when he wasn’t in the grown room it permeated is consciousness, filling his brain, controlling his thoughts. Staring down into the open top loader, thumbing his wart, his left eye twitching, he grinned an idiot’s grin and giggle quietly as he wondered: Who serves who? Do I control the grow room, or does the grow room control me?” (“Kind Nepenthe”)

 

Until next time, my friends. Thanks for reading, and if you’re still awake, feel free to leave comments.

Window Thoughts

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Mom stopped smiling

last week. I don’t ask why,

the tea kettle blows steam. Music

from the top of a glass bottle of Coca Cola. Sometimes,

I gotta lick my chapped lips

before playing the tune. My tongue

scrapes the dry spot

I bite off with teeth, it bleeds. Once,

she asks how school’s going. I answer,

good. Lying between curtains

from a mail-order catalogue of laughter

because,

face it– hand-me-downs don’t fly. Well,

her lips don’t curl upwards with smoke

slinking from a cigarette. Hiding

in my hair. I pull it, twist thin paper

between my thumb and index finger– around

and back. On the other side of the glass, two

kids pass

by, the one on the bike

rings a bell. The other,

laughs.

My Book Review of “Daimon” by Linette Kasper

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“I love being with David. I find peace and happiness when I am. I can’t believe anyone wouldn’t want that for me…” (Daimon)

 

 

It’s a paperweight…

It’s a wheel chock…

NO! It’s author Linette Kasper’s debut YA fantasy novel “Daimon“! Linette may reside in Northern Virginia, but her I’m-gonna-love-you-forever-no-like-literally-forever-tale-of-romance-gone-dark type novel weaves its mysterious tale around the historic city of Richmond, Va.

Megan, our scrumptious and sometimes sarcastic, female protagonist is still coping with the loss of her mother when– in true Cinderella fashion– her dad decides it’s time to move on. That’s right– he’s ready to tie ye ‘ol knot again.

Moving on– it’s a good thing, right? “Onward and upward.” That’s what they say. Perhaps forward motion is optimal– well, that is if you’re not planning to marry a half-crazed psycho– Erin, remember to edit this and take that out– you can’t belittle the anti-social personality disorder community by comparing Megan’s stepmom to a psychopath.

When Megan’s crazy-bitch-ass stepmom, Vanessa decides to physically abuse her in public by slapping her at a bridal shop, Megan takes off. Who can blame the girl? And I’m not even going to start on the employee who kinda just watched and didn’t really do anything… you know… like telephone DSS. Did Kasper mean this as a sly critique of the social system in the United States? You be the judge… like maybe, literally… Megan’s dad, Jack, is a lawyer… Okay, not funny… moving on.

I don’t have the answer to that question, BUT I caught up with Linette and her crazy schedule to ask her, “If you put a dollar in a claw machine and it broke down, would say nothing or complain?”

Her answer? “Depends on if that means it’s broken or faulty. I may grumble to myself, but I’m not one to complain or make a scene, so I would chalk it up to not being meant to be and move on with my life. If the machine were broken, I would report it so it doesn’t happen to anyone else.”

So maybe the claw machine isn’t meant to be, but I know what is– “I know what is” can be read in one of those over-used-I’m-gonna-do-a-high-pitch-sing-song-voice type deals. When Megan takes off, she drives to the cemetery where her mom is buried, and it is there that she meets a dark figure in the night.

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“…our legs tangled together…He continued to kiss me and soon his mouth was moving along my chin to my throat…” (Daimon)

Who could it be? Does she live? Does she die? Did Vanessa follow her? Who is the mystery stranger?

“He was stunning, like an otherworldly being, with beguiling eyes that took me in as I was taking him in and bow lips that naturally turned at the corners into a slight smile. Tall and lean, he was dressed in khaki pants and a pinstripe shirt that opened to a fitted black t-shirt” (Daimon).

He had me at khaki pants– swoon. There’s just something about an ironed inseam that gets me every time kinda like the hot fudge melting the ice cream on my sundae…

Oh, book review– forgot. So, we know our mystery guest is a “he“, but who exactly is that?

Cue 1970’s jazzed out theme show song, lower psychedelic backdrop: “Meet David, he’s a mysterious hot n’ sexy dream boat whose hobbies include, lurking through cemeteries, cryptic dialogue that deflects any questions about himself, and being cryptic in general.”

That wasn’t a quote from the book, by the way.

So, who is David, really? Megan wants to know, I want to know, you are sitting on the edge of your seat right now– leaning in– because you want to know…

But, like any good novelist, Kasper doesn’t tell us right away, however I managed to garner a few answers out of her about what she’d do in a cemetery if she came upon a smokin’ hot stranger.

“I’d definitely be leery of him, keeping my distance until a I felt a little more comfortable. I’m not a social person and people are not apt to approach me, so I’d wonder if there’s an ulterior motive.” — Linette Kasper.

Ulterior motive would be the perfect time for me to introduce Brian, David’s scrumptious, frightening nugget of a roommate, along with Odette, Madeline, and the shy, quiet Cary.

I hesitate to spoil much about Brian, other than to say he’s got all the girls swooning– including Vanessa. The only one who’s uncomfortable seems to be Megan, but why? Could there be more to find out about Brian?

Yes, why yes there is… want to know what he’s up to?

*Sigh* Fine,

Lean in…

 

Close…

 

Closer…

 

Whatchya scared of? I don’t bite…

 

Now lean in!

 

*Whispering*

 

If you want to know, read the book!

 

Got you, right? No?

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“I could see him pacing back and forth like a hungry lion waiting for his prey to falter.” (Daimon)

 

Spooky, right?

Next, I bet you expect me to tell you that Megan is the melodramatic-loner type that lurks the high school and narrates her lack of friends–

but I’m not! Wow, you’re thinking… maybe this is exactly what “Twilight” should’ve been– no, not linking “Twilight”. I’m lazy and you can Google it.

Megan has friends– even if they fail to question her hanging out with strangers in cemeteries late at night. David’s hot, right? He can’t possibly he dangerous– the ever so bubbly Claire, sporty no-nonsense Erin, and the-boy-next-door-who-Megan-should’ve-ended-up-with-instead-of-some-spooky-cemetary-stranger-but-didn’t-and-now-the-reader-will-feel-sorry-for-him-through-the-whole-novel… oh, I was talking about Ben.

Ben? A love triangle, you say? Oh, the plot grows jucier and jucier and we haven’t even gotten through the first couple hundred pages.

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Where the hell is my coffee !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Immaculately edited and polished, “Daimon” is a five-hundred-ninety-four-page, action-packed, supernatural, thriller, mixed with a touch of chic-lit and sentimentality  ATOMIC-BOMB and Kasper paints a superb photo.

Daimon” is a must read for young adults and adults alike.

Until next time, folks! Thanks for reading my review and WRITE ON!

 

All the UPDATES (!!!!)

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I’m back to the blog once more. Guess what that means…

I have gas station nachos?

Most likely.

More episodes of the Chronicles of Ashzaria?

Yea…

You published your second full-length novel?

YES!… well, tomorrow. That’s right, August 22nd, I’ll be releasing the second installment of the ‘Sync’ Series, “Menoetius”. Finally!

I won’t lie– I’ve worked hard on the proofreading and editing phases to bring a smoother, better narrative into this action-packed series and I feel amazing about it.

 

What else have you done, Erin?

Well, I’m glad you asked…

Today I started a YouTube Writing Workshop that I intend to upload videos to on a weekly basis. I’m excited for this project because I get asked a lot of questions about my writing process, and I cannot wait to try to answer them.

You can find the video on my YouTube channel, but just in case, I’ll enter the link on this post, too.

 

Hmm… are the thumbnails the worst expressions? Who sits in the cubicle at YouTube Inc. and monitors these things?

Well, my next video will be in landscape mode… I’m a newbie, so give me a break.

For now, I’m out. Sorry for the short post. I will be writing more over the upcoming weeks/months. Yayyy….

In the mean time, check out my online shop for all the “Synchronicity” Fandom…

ANNNND… the new page for my domestic violence support website, When She Walked Away.

Peace, my friends. Look for more updates and articles SOON!

 

He Said if I Spoke Up No One Would Listen and Other Bedtime Stories

Lately, I’ve become a bit obsessed with listening to slam poetry. So… I thought I’d try my own.

Linked to the post is a video I uploaded onto Facebook. I was trying to use poetry to contribute to the dialogue surrounding domestic violence. I will add that I placed a trigger warning on this. Please watch at your own discretion.

If this moves you, feel free to share, or leave a comment.