It's during tough economic times like these that I find I really have to remember who my 'employer' really is. I am an aspiring author, but I am also a painter. I've made a living off of my art work for years. Believe me, it is not a career path for the faint of heart. I spent many years never knowing when or where my next paycheck would come from. As means of supplementing my income from sales of fine art, I took to painting murals, as well.
I remember one day I was looking at my check book and the stack of bills sitting on the counter. All in all I needed $1500 to cover that month's expenses, but I only had $40 in my checking account and I had not sold a painting in over three weeks. Now, I had been living off of my art for a little under a year, at that point, and the pressure of not having a 'steady' income was starting to wear on me. I was newly divorced with a three-year-old child, and had frequent nightmares about ending up 'homeless.'
Still, I loved what I did for a living, and for a new, unknown artist, my work WAS selling. I was given heaps of encouragement from everyone around me that I was 'doing the right thing.' But of course, praise doesn't pay the mortgage.
Looking at that stack of bills, I just sat down on the floor and had a huge boo-hoo. "Why, why, why does this have to be so hard?" I asked my God. "Am I not doing enough? Am I completely off base here? Should I pack it in and get a 'desk' job somewhere? I just want to do your work well."
The phone rang. It was a friend who was dealing with some very serious issues-- they far surpassed anything I was dealing with at that moment. I left the house and went to spend some time with her... to listen, to give a shoulder.
After I left my friend's house, I felt so much better. My 'money' problem did not seem such a big deal. I got a call on my cell phone as I drove back home. It was a woman who wanted a mural painted in her living room. She asked if I could come that evening to show her my portfolio. Of course, I went!
When I arrived at her house she showed me the living room and explained the project she wanted done. Impressed by my portfolio, she then took me to her bedroom, the kitchen, the down stairs powder room, and her eldest son's room. She had a mural project for each room. All in all, the work would total about $3000. She paid me half down to get started: $1500.
I will NEVER EVER forget that moment. I walked out of that woman's house, got into my car with the $1500 check and bawled all the way home--in complete awe. It was exactly the amount I needed.
My God had answered, "Just stick close to me, kid--and do your work well." My getting 'paid' had little to do with my artwork-- and everything do with helping the 'friend-in-need.' Listening to her problems instead of focusing on my own had pulled me off my pity-pot, and cleared my perception. It had opened my heart to love rather than plunging it into fear. When I'm in fear, I close myself off to possiblities--to miracles.
Ever since, I have never doubted who MY EMPLOYER is. It's not the gallery manager, literary agent, publishing editor, or the Dean of Arts and Sciences. In reality, they have as much power over outcomes as I do--which is precious little. I just take life one day at a time. I do simple footwork--painting, writing, connecting with others--and I let the Boss take care of everything else.
True Story.
Sunday, April 5, 2009
Wednesday, March 25, 2009
BAD ATTITUDE: Ancasta the Sionnach from 'Arawen of the West Watch'
Ancasta the Sionnach stood on Breakes Hallow Warf, her eyes trained on the lights glimmering across the sound. She was in Glenfallen, but her thoughts were not.
“You’re a very bright girl, and very enthusiastic, but I cannot train you as a Sentinel, Miss Princeport. The Initiation Trials showed that your lack of a Familiar spirit not only excludes you from any sort of combative situation but also hinders you from completing tasks on target.” said Arthur Windleash from behind his desk.
“But I can work on my timing, and not every position in the Guard is dedicated to combat. With my abilities, I would be an asset for espionage—or maybe I could be a-a tracker, even.” she argued.
“But even a spy or a tracker must be prepared in the event of assault, my dear. And your Trial results show that you did not complete a single conflict scenario, even though you were given twice the amount of time to finish.” He shook his head, “A Sentinel, no matter what, must finish the mission with as little loss of life as possible. I cannot in good conscience train you as a Sentinel, Miss Princeport. Your presence would leave your fellow Guard at unnecessary risk,” he said.
“But—
“Please, my dear. No more.” Walking around his desk, he took her hand, “You are a Sionnach, Ancasta. To be born to the Fox Magic is rare, and you should be proud of that. Your mind-powers are amazing. There’s not a witch in the world that could keep you from slinking into his head.” He smiled. “Ever since she took you as an apprentice, Coventina earmarked you for diplomacy, and I agree with her decision. The country is filled with squabbling witches and fractured covens. Who better to settle disputes than one with the ability to understand both sides completely?
“Now, I believe Blackmoore has already given you your first assignment?”
“Y-yes.” She could not breathe.
“Good luck, then.” The Boston master nodded toward the door for her to leave.
Opening the door she stepped into the reception room, a small crowd in her path.
“By the West Watch, I knew he would do it!” said Alexander Mountrain slapping his son on the shoulders. “A Sentinel!”
“I’m not a Sentinel yet, Dad. I’ve just been selected for training.” Said Arawen as his Aunt Coventina threw her arms about him.
“Oh, but I’ve raised him right. Haven’t I, brother?” She laughed at Alexander while tousling her nephew’s hair.
“Aye. Ye did good, Covey.” Merlin Blackmoore, Arawen’s former teacher, cracked his crooked grin, “Top-notch, young Arawen, top-notch. Perform in trainin’ as ye did for Initiations, and I’ll be recommendin’ ye to the Red Guard.”
Mighty Mordred, she could not bear the scene. Without a word, she darted past Arawen and his well-wishers.
“Cas? Hey Cas, what’s the matter?” Arawen called out to her.
“Nothing.” She kept walking, biting her lip to stop the tears.
“Ancasta Princeport! Don’t tell me you are still blubbering over the Initiation Trial results!” Coventina called out from the group, “Stop daydreaming you silly girl, and start packing for Omaha. Master MacCrimmons needs a translator for the natives.” Coventina explained to the others, “They’ve got a Pawnee Medicine man that keeps ice forming on their summer crops.”
Laughter. They all were laughing at her.
“Cas wait!” Arawen was on her heels.
“Go away!” She whimpered, tearing down the hall. “You heard your Aunt, I’m on a ‘big assignment.” Her voice cracked, “I can’t believe it—fifteen-hundred miles west to figure out why some native prefers cold corn.”
Arawen caught her arm, his snicker making her cringe.
“Don’t laugh at me!” She shouted, pulling her arm free.
He hugged her.
“Then don’t make me laugh.” His hands patted her back, “Great Mother, you always have had great wit.”
“More like witless.” She sniffled against his shoulder, “Windleash seems to think so, anyway. All these years of study, the last two dedicated to Pennick Mountrain’s work on the physics of Essential Transmorphy, and I’m sentence to ‘pick melons’ in some godforsaken—Ooo! The Nebraska territory, Roo? It just isn’t fair!” She threw her arms in the air. “You’ve said so, yourself.”
“Yes, and I meant it. Believe me. I’ve been pushing for you. You should be working for the Guard in some capacity. I even approached Windleash about it last night.” he said shaking his head, “I thought for sure he was going hire you as his personal secretary. I still can’t believe he chose that needle-nose, Pudgie Nightwood.”
“S-secretary? You think I’m only cut out to be a secretary?” she felt stabbed.
“Cas, I don’t mean it as an insult. Windleash needs more people like you. You’re brilliant, but—
“I’m weak, slow, and spirit-challenged.” She spat.
“I didn’t say that.” He defended. “Look, I know you don’t want to hear it, but your abilities are limited to mind reading. It takes more than that to be a Sentinel. You don’t have the muscle, and let’s face it. You don’t have the temperament. When you don’t get something right away, you get flustered and give up.”
“Ha! Easy for you to say, when everyone’s always cheering you on!” She shouted. “Maybe things would be different if I would have had someone grooming me for the Red Guard since I was in diapers. But I didn’t. I got apprenticed to your Aunt, who decided what my career would be on my first day of tutelage. Then she stuck me in the Mountrain library for eight years and forgot about me.”
“That’s not true.” Said Arawen. He struggled to control his anger, “Coventina is very proud of you. She loves you like her own.”
“Please. For eight years, I’ve done everything she’s ever asked. And the one time I ask her for something, she says, ‘no.’” she scoffed. “I could have passed the Trials with flying colors if she would have let me use The Cage of Bloodlines.”
“The Cage of—ha. Okay I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear you say something that ridiculous.” Arawen looked almost amused. “The Cage of Bloodlines, Ancasta? Its use was outlawed in the time of Henry Tudor.”
“Yes, well this is a different age, day and country, isn’t it?” she argued. “I even had someone willing to share their power with me.”
“So what? That’s not the point.” Arawen defended. “When witches start swapping and merging powers with each other, there are all kinds of unwanted side-effects, most notably, insanity. Coventina would never take that risk with you.”
“Because she already had plans to send me to Omaha.” She rolled her eyes.
“Fine, Ancasta. You win. The entire world is against you.” He threw up his hands, turned to walk away, but then added over his shoulder, “You know why I think you really couldn’t make the Guard, Cas?”
“Why?” she asked.
“You have a bad attitude.” He walked away.
A drunken fisherman passing by accidentally brushed Ancasta’s cloak.
“Eh—err, sorry there, miss.” He touched the brim of his hat.
She whirled on him, her boot connecting with his groin.
“Why don’t you watch where you’re going, jackass!”
“You’re a very bright girl, and very enthusiastic, but I cannot train you as a Sentinel, Miss Princeport. The Initiation Trials showed that your lack of a Familiar spirit not only excludes you from any sort of combative situation but also hinders you from completing tasks on target.” said Arthur Windleash from behind his desk.
“But I can work on my timing, and not every position in the Guard is dedicated to combat. With my abilities, I would be an asset for espionage—or maybe I could be a-a tracker, even.” she argued.
“But even a spy or a tracker must be prepared in the event of assault, my dear. And your Trial results show that you did not complete a single conflict scenario, even though you were given twice the amount of time to finish.” He shook his head, “A Sentinel, no matter what, must finish the mission with as little loss of life as possible. I cannot in good conscience train you as a Sentinel, Miss Princeport. Your presence would leave your fellow Guard at unnecessary risk,” he said.
“But—
“Please, my dear. No more.” Walking around his desk, he took her hand, “You are a Sionnach, Ancasta. To be born to the Fox Magic is rare, and you should be proud of that. Your mind-powers are amazing. There’s not a witch in the world that could keep you from slinking into his head.” He smiled. “Ever since she took you as an apprentice, Coventina earmarked you for diplomacy, and I agree with her decision. The country is filled with squabbling witches and fractured covens. Who better to settle disputes than one with the ability to understand both sides completely?
“Now, I believe Blackmoore has already given you your first assignment?”
“Y-yes.” She could not breathe.
“Good luck, then.” The Boston master nodded toward the door for her to leave.
Opening the door she stepped into the reception room, a small crowd in her path.
“By the West Watch, I knew he would do it!” said Alexander Mountrain slapping his son on the shoulders. “A Sentinel!”
“I’m not a Sentinel yet, Dad. I’ve just been selected for training.” Said Arawen as his Aunt Coventina threw her arms about him.
“Oh, but I’ve raised him right. Haven’t I, brother?” She laughed at Alexander while tousling her nephew’s hair.
“Aye. Ye did good, Covey.” Merlin Blackmoore, Arawen’s former teacher, cracked his crooked grin, “Top-notch, young Arawen, top-notch. Perform in trainin’ as ye did for Initiations, and I’ll be recommendin’ ye to the Red Guard.”
Mighty Mordred, she could not bear the scene. Without a word, she darted past Arawen and his well-wishers.
“Cas? Hey Cas, what’s the matter?” Arawen called out to her.
“Nothing.” She kept walking, biting her lip to stop the tears.
“Ancasta Princeport! Don’t tell me you are still blubbering over the Initiation Trial results!” Coventina called out from the group, “Stop daydreaming you silly girl, and start packing for Omaha. Master MacCrimmons needs a translator for the natives.” Coventina explained to the others, “They’ve got a Pawnee Medicine man that keeps ice forming on their summer crops.”
Laughter. They all were laughing at her.
“Cas wait!” Arawen was on her heels.
“Go away!” She whimpered, tearing down the hall. “You heard your Aunt, I’m on a ‘big assignment.” Her voice cracked, “I can’t believe it—fifteen-hundred miles west to figure out why some native prefers cold corn.”
Arawen caught her arm, his snicker making her cringe.
“Don’t laugh at me!” She shouted, pulling her arm free.
He hugged her.
“Then don’t make me laugh.” His hands patted her back, “Great Mother, you always have had great wit.”
“More like witless.” She sniffled against his shoulder, “Windleash seems to think so, anyway. All these years of study, the last two dedicated to Pennick Mountrain’s work on the physics of Essential Transmorphy, and I’m sentence to ‘pick melons’ in some godforsaken—Ooo! The Nebraska territory, Roo? It just isn’t fair!” She threw her arms in the air. “You’ve said so, yourself.”
“Yes, and I meant it. Believe me. I’ve been pushing for you. You should be working for the Guard in some capacity. I even approached Windleash about it last night.” he said shaking his head, “I thought for sure he was going hire you as his personal secretary. I still can’t believe he chose that needle-nose, Pudgie Nightwood.”
“S-secretary? You think I’m only cut out to be a secretary?” she felt stabbed.
“Cas, I don’t mean it as an insult. Windleash needs more people like you. You’re brilliant, but—
“I’m weak, slow, and spirit-challenged.” She spat.
“I didn’t say that.” He defended. “Look, I know you don’t want to hear it, but your abilities are limited to mind reading. It takes more than that to be a Sentinel. You don’t have the muscle, and let’s face it. You don’t have the temperament. When you don’t get something right away, you get flustered and give up.”
“Ha! Easy for you to say, when everyone’s always cheering you on!” She shouted. “Maybe things would be different if I would have had someone grooming me for the Red Guard since I was in diapers. But I didn’t. I got apprenticed to your Aunt, who decided what my career would be on my first day of tutelage. Then she stuck me in the Mountrain library for eight years and forgot about me.”
“That’s not true.” Said Arawen. He struggled to control his anger, “Coventina is very proud of you. She loves you like her own.”
“Please. For eight years, I’ve done everything she’s ever asked. And the one time I ask her for something, she says, ‘no.’” she scoffed. “I could have passed the Trials with flying colors if she would have let me use The Cage of Bloodlines.”
“The Cage of—ha. Okay I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear you say something that ridiculous.” Arawen looked almost amused. “The Cage of Bloodlines, Ancasta? Its use was outlawed in the time of Henry Tudor.”
“Yes, well this is a different age, day and country, isn’t it?” she argued. “I even had someone willing to share their power with me.”
“So what? That’s not the point.” Arawen defended. “When witches start swapping and merging powers with each other, there are all kinds of unwanted side-effects, most notably, insanity. Coventina would never take that risk with you.”
“Because she already had plans to send me to Omaha.” She rolled her eyes.
“Fine, Ancasta. You win. The entire world is against you.” He threw up his hands, turned to walk away, but then added over his shoulder, “You know why I think you really couldn’t make the Guard, Cas?”
“Why?” she asked.
“You have a bad attitude.” He walked away.
A drunken fisherman passing by accidentally brushed Ancasta’s cloak.
“Eh—err, sorry there, miss.” He touched the brim of his hat.
She whirled on him, her boot connecting with his groin.
“Why don’t you watch where you’re going, jackass!”
Friday, February 13, 2009
Witch House Are You? The Families of Glenfallen.
The House of Willogate
At the northernmost point of Cape Thicket sits Willogate Farm. With their power rooted in Earth, the Willogates are a tactile lot, not given to flights of fancy or shows of emotion. With feet planted on the ground, and intent focused upon a goal, they are a driven lot who live for achievement.
Like their Saxon ancestors, the Willogates of Glenfallen are tall and golden. However their ability to produce gold is not limited to offspring. Willogates have a knack for making money, but are not particularly keen on sharing it
Founder: Alfric the Traitor
Symbols: the willow tree, the golden Harlon
Colors: Brown and Gold
Most famous ancestor: Sabrina the Bran (the Raven Witch of Breaks Tower)
Best qualities: Sensible, sensuous, love roots deeply in the soil of the heart
Worst qualities: Envious, competitive and miserly
The House of Etherhill
On the eastern coast of Cape Thicket is Breaks Lighthouse, home to the ‘Airy’ Etherhills. Disdaining all things ‘bourgeois,’ the bohemian Etherhills prefer to live life on a ‘higher’ more artistic plane. Naturally, the wine flows freely as they wax poetic, play concertos to the moon and pine for a love that is not ephemeral.
Like their French ancestors, they live for the moment and delight in imagination. Noted for their incredible violet eyes, the Etherhills are quick to laugh and just as quick to cry.
Founder: Chaid of Nathair
Symbols: the tower, the raven, the snake
Colors: Blue and White
Most famous ancestor: Also Sabrina the Bran (the Raven Witch of Breaks Tower)
Best qualities: Imaginative, artistic, love is a spiritual experience
Worst qualities: Selfish, self-seeking alcoholics
The House of Drakesford
In the south, where Fire rules, is the Drakesford’s ‘Old Summer House.’ As descendents of the ‘Liam the Drake,’ founder of the old-world ‘Glenfallen Circle,’ the Drakesfords have a tendency to arrogance.
Like their Welsh ancestors, they are noted for their striking black hair and eyes. They are brilliant, passionate and gluttons for power. Once established as the most powerful House in the Glenfallen Circle, they have never been willing to release the title, and have not been above using Machiavellian tactics to keep it.
Founder: Liam the Drake; aka: The Great Drake or The Draig Tien
Symbols: The black dragon
Colors: Red, Black and Gold
Most Famous Ancestor: Liam the Drake
Best qualities: intelligent, dynamic problem-solvers, love with passionate loyalty
Worst qualities: despotic, suspicious and promiscuous
The House of Mountrain
Sitting on the west coast of Cape Thicket overlooking the sound, is stately Mountrain House. There the friendly Water clan opens their doors as they do their hearts to all who would enter.
Like their Scottish ancestors, they have retained their ginger hair and sea-green eyes. Good humored and easy going, the Mountrains rarely have a bone to pick with anyone who isn’t a Drakesford.
Founder: Baltin of Rainy Mountain (aka: The Mount of Oaks)
Symbols: the Oak tree, the white owl, and the wave
Colors: Green and Gold
Most Famous Ancestor: Pennick Mountrain (Creator of the magic caldron known as ‘The Cage of Bloodlines’)
Best qualities: caring, loyal, trusting, an intrinsic understanding of love’s depth
Worst qualities: stubborn, hotheaded, jealous in love
The House of Dovecot
At the center of Cape Thicket is Dovecot Lodge, and here lives the family whose magic dwells in Spirit. As descendents of Dana of Nin, the peasant Healer who became a ‘Light Mistress,’ all of the Houses of Glenfallen hold the Dovecots in high esteem. Theirs is the only House to always be headed by a ‘Mistress’ instead of a ‘Master.’ Dana of Nin’s heiress is the ‘law’ in Glenfallen. (And the Drakesford heir enforces her law.)
Like their humble Irish ancestor, Dana, the Light Mistresses of Glenfallen share the same remarkable dove-gray eyes, and an irresistible spunk and spirit.
Founder: Dana of Nin
Symbols: the dove, the crown, the chalice
Colors: White and Silver
Most Famous Ancestor: Dana of Nin
Best qualities: graciousness, humility, kindness, Love is unconditional
Worst qualities: potty-mouthed, hot tempered and ‘people pleasing’
At the northernmost point of Cape Thicket sits Willogate Farm. With their power rooted in Earth, the Willogates are a tactile lot, not given to flights of fancy or shows of emotion. With feet planted on the ground, and intent focused upon a goal, they are a driven lot who live for achievement.
Like their Saxon ancestors, the Willogates of Glenfallen are tall and golden. However their ability to produce gold is not limited to offspring. Willogates have a knack for making money, but are not particularly keen on sharing it
Founder: Alfric the Traitor
Symbols: the willow tree, the golden Harlon
Colors: Brown and Gold
Most famous ancestor: Sabrina the Bran (the Raven Witch of Breaks Tower)
Best qualities: Sensible, sensuous, love roots deeply in the soil of the heart
Worst qualities: Envious, competitive and miserly
The House of Etherhill
On the eastern coast of Cape Thicket is Breaks Lighthouse, home to the ‘Airy’ Etherhills. Disdaining all things ‘bourgeois,’ the bohemian Etherhills prefer to live life on a ‘higher’ more artistic plane. Naturally, the wine flows freely as they wax poetic, play concertos to the moon and pine for a love that is not ephemeral.
Like their French ancestors, they live for the moment and delight in imagination. Noted for their incredible violet eyes, the Etherhills are quick to laugh and just as quick to cry.
Founder: Chaid of Nathair
Symbols: the tower, the raven, the snake
Colors: Blue and White
Most famous ancestor: Also Sabrina the Bran (the Raven Witch of Breaks Tower)
Best qualities: Imaginative, artistic, love is a spiritual experience
Worst qualities: Selfish, self-seeking alcoholics
The House of Drakesford
In the south, where Fire rules, is the Drakesford’s ‘Old Summer House.’ As descendents of the ‘Liam the Drake,’ founder of the old-world ‘Glenfallen Circle,’ the Drakesfords have a tendency to arrogance.
Like their Welsh ancestors, they are noted for their striking black hair and eyes. They are brilliant, passionate and gluttons for power. Once established as the most powerful House in the Glenfallen Circle, they have never been willing to release the title, and have not been above using Machiavellian tactics to keep it.
Founder: Liam the Drake; aka: The Great Drake or The Draig Tien
Symbols: The black dragon
Colors: Red, Black and Gold
Most Famous Ancestor: Liam the Drake
Best qualities: intelligent, dynamic problem-solvers, love with passionate loyalty
Worst qualities: despotic, suspicious and promiscuous
The House of Mountrain
Sitting on the west coast of Cape Thicket overlooking the sound, is stately Mountrain House. There the friendly Water clan opens their doors as they do their hearts to all who would enter.
Like their Scottish ancestors, they have retained their ginger hair and sea-green eyes. Good humored and easy going, the Mountrains rarely have a bone to pick with anyone who isn’t a Drakesford.
Founder: Baltin of Rainy Mountain (aka: The Mount of Oaks)
Symbols: the Oak tree, the white owl, and the wave
Colors: Green and Gold
Most Famous Ancestor: Pennick Mountrain (Creator of the magic caldron known as ‘The Cage of Bloodlines’)
Best qualities: caring, loyal, trusting, an intrinsic understanding of love’s depth
Worst qualities: stubborn, hotheaded, jealous in love
The House of Dovecot
At the center of Cape Thicket is Dovecot Lodge, and here lives the family whose magic dwells in Spirit. As descendents of Dana of Nin, the peasant Healer who became a ‘Light Mistress,’ all of the Houses of Glenfallen hold the Dovecots in high esteem. Theirs is the only House to always be headed by a ‘Mistress’ instead of a ‘Master.’ Dana of Nin’s heiress is the ‘law’ in Glenfallen. (And the Drakesford heir enforces her law.)
Like their humble Irish ancestor, Dana, the Light Mistresses of Glenfallen share the same remarkable dove-gray eyes, and an irresistible spunk and spirit.
Founder: Dana of Nin
Symbols: the dove, the crown, the chalice
Colors: White and Silver
Most Famous Ancestor: Dana of Nin
Best qualities: graciousness, humility, kindness, Love is unconditional
Worst qualities: potty-mouthed, hot tempered and ‘people pleasing’
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