Spirit Lines

2011-11-30T15:11:00.001-08:00

A Rendezvous at the corner of RUSHING and CONTROL delivered me to a meeting with CHOICE

It was not too long ago when my second book was ready to be published. It had gone through various edits by professionals, it had been read and reread by many. I wanted it ready for sale on a certain day, at a certain time. All was in place and ready to go. After all I had everything under CONTROL.

Words I wrote caused me satisfaction and contentment. All was in order! The time had come to find the right formatter. Soon the destiny of The Canvas – A Secret from the Holocaust invited me to the next gate.

All the CONTROLs were checked off and a proof arrived. As the author I had one last task; approve this proof.

There were holidays around the corner, a show to attend, a talk, a cause, life and other good reasons were provided to my mind. I did not read the proof because I knew it was perfect. I had paid editors, formatter and they were all professionals. There was nothing to read since I knew the content of the book.I had written every word, felt every emotion. All was in CONTROL. I did not read the proof.

The first edition was printed and most books were sold.

The proverbial green light went on since CONTROL had approved the printed edition. My relationship with RUSHING gained strength. All was glorious.

Only a dear and good friend makes a call and says, “this powerful book offers a great story all women should read it. However, it cannot be offered in its present condition. It has too many mistakes.” She had just finished reading the proof.

RUSHING laughed, “You thought you could CONTROL time!” I went to the manuscript, the original and the edited one. RUSHING laughed again, soon enough I discovered I had given the unedited manuscript to be processed, the one that made its way to the publishing world.

Now with plenty of mud in face and hands I must walk to the process and rectify a grave mistake.

RUSHING is satisfied today because the lesson was learned. CONTROL is also pleased because it offered a lesson now understood.

The new doorway now visible forced me to read: CHOICE. I paused ––– I hoped my intelligent readers would forgive my mistake. I did not know most of them ––– Better yet, I hoped they would not see the mistakes. Would I disregard and ignore them, could I also ignore and my prospective editors or agents? Would anyone reading the book understand about my friends RUSHING and CONTROL?

I am happy to report; I was able to make the correct CHOICE. I opened the door.

The Canvas – A secret from the Holocaust will be published once more. The new edition will bear the same title but will be without the numerous mistakes. One may find additional mistakes but they will be the ones I am not aware of. This book is a story of love's many levels, integrity of word given, a story of character. The story explores the many choices people made during and after the Holocaust.

No reason is greater than to honor those who lived to tell me their stories and those unable to do so. It is for them I correct mistakes I made.

This is a great time to offer thanks to the teachers I call: RUSHING, CONTROL and CHOICE.

Eveline Horelle Dailey

2011-11-26T16:31:00.001-08:00

WHAT IS ONE? It started with ONE and something I could not understand followed: I wrote a sort of equation representing ONE moment in a twenty-four hour period during the month of November. The moment was the 11th day of the year 2011. To make my new cerebral adventure more interesting, the moment read 11:11 AM or PM.11-11-11 - 11:11. Soon enough, I became surrounded with words like lucidity, coherence, rationality, consistency even logic, law and reliability joined in. I made attempts to know their reason for entering my mind, and I could only find chaos.I was ONE in an imaginary circle. While geometry may be the quest for reality, Pythagoras, the Greek philosopher, said: “Number is within all things!” Pythagoras wrote number and did not use the plural in his sentence. He must have had a good reason! With this in mind, I decided to explore my hypothetical equation. Soon a parade of ONES offered my mind no pathway to an exit. What at first, I deemed to have been pandemonium, demanded examination because something promising was happening. It was fluid and I could not hold on to it. Had I stumbled upon a mystery not yet clarified? Plato said, “You cannot conceive of the many without the ONE. The wholly ONE, a principle able to put the universe in a single, complex form.” Why did I not understand what Plato alleged? How could a single form be complex? Someone told me if I added the last two digits of my birth year and the number associated to my age, I would also create a series of ‘1s’. I tried! Lo and behold the addition proved to be a trio of ONES (1-1-1). Knowing that my time was limited, I decided to concentrate on the meaning of all the ONES (1-1-1) in front of me. It would take another one hundred years before I could review my finding. What was the significance in our lives today? 11 – 11 – 11 11:11 a complex set of ONES… A scholar I asked, thought a moment and said my idea was not consistent with anything, not coherent, not rational. In that case, what was it with ONE had I been cursed to explore? Could it be I was to explore the force between sets of ONES? The ONE that I am stands alone, that is a ‘1’. I dance with my partner, two ones (1 - 1) merging as ONE. Dancing in rhythmic, united movement creates a flow between two ONES. When bodies merge as ONE (1) for example in lovemaking, the involvement could also be described as excellent dancing. Could it be then, when ONE (1) merges with another ONE (1) there is surge? A surge of what Lucidity asked me? Though not prepared to answer, something else appeared in a not too distant horizon. I could perceive, while in the business of merging, that which flows between two ONEs reminds me of yet another word, ENERGY. It was pure science, the stuff traveling between the two ONEs was energy. This force, positively and negatively charged, creating from light to floods was, perhaps, what I was searching for? Was I pursuing the understanding of matter, physic or chemistry? I understand it takes a certain movement to CREATE. I was told ONE ( 1 ) was the number for CREATION, or was it the number of the ‘CREATOR’ energy? No one gave me the answer with any certainty! I felt creation or creator seemed consistent with my line of thinking. I discovered not long ago, when I synchronize my telephone and my computer all is well because the value traveling between the two ONES is energy under the guise of things digital. A binary language, a series of 1s and 0s in a coherent conversation about what I did not understand. I was approaching something consistent, therefore rational. I venture then to say when I put the power or energy of two ‘1s’ side-by-side something is enhanced. The power I call the Infinite becomes the singular and elusive force I cannot touch. This concept, moving in my direction, demanded that I become flexible in order to adjust something I did not understand. Something as complex asPlato suggested! A conclusion I called ONE, the Infinite number. Two ‘1s’ put side-by-side containing within each the subtle mystery to enhance the creative power of the Infinite. For the purpose of my exploration, I will stick to the examination of the month of November. ONE ONE (11) a symbol made by the magic of the left brain and its ability to count, and the doubling of the prime number and its infinite capabilities. The first force, the prime mover, the creator of multiplicity, came to mind and once more I knew I was touching the fruits of the divine. Out of my ruminations came the realization, it was not November that was in need of exploration, it is the number ONE (1). I had not yet become aware of the numerous ONEs in front of me and wondered how often did I not see what is in front of me, but that would be for a different time or a different essay. Was I questioning the possibility that the Infinite and its multiplicity was an expression able to resonate in today’s world? If my exploration was correct, it felt that all had been synchronized before I knew to count my birth year and the numbers of years I have walked on the planet. In the end, does not Alpha and Omega meet? Do we not learn something by amplifying failures and successes? We resonate with both the negatives and the positives of life. It would appear that Energy does not recognize the differences. It remains Energy! We, of the human race,apparently apply our own Energy when we negotiate with the positives and negatives to facilitate what we create. Again, the question may be something fundamental? Does Energy know the difference between positive and negative? Right and wrong, I also ask? Could the same law apply to humans? I propose, if we assemble many ONES, (1s) the interaction to follow may add strength and clarity to minds and hearts. Just perhaps, we could enhance the strength of each ONE. This interaction could have great meaning in matters of today’s world. There could be some rational, lucid, coherent, lawful and reliable moments in a world filled with turbulence. What is ONE without another ONE?

Painting The Canvas

2011-10-31T17:51:00.000-07:00

This is not the place to talk about the art of painting on a canvas. The canvas in question was painted with my mind. With great accuracy my fingers followed what was generated by my soul. I distorted the truth and made it mine. I replaced what was with could be. My intention is to tell how The Canvas - A Secret from the Holocaust came about. Like most authors a seed growing between my ears needed room to expend. After a while I remembered stories I heard long long ago. "Why you/" a voice screamed from the balcony, She was sitting on a chair covered with velvet almost matching her shirt. Are you Jewish? Though I said no, I had to verify with family members to know if there was a secret.

The flame

2011-01-06T21:58:00.000-08:00

My writing is inspired by sources all around me. This month a song I heard while listening to "playing for change" inspired the essay that will follow. The triggers for my imagination to unfold comes from the behavior of people, music I hear, the natural world around me. They are forces I take seriously because they are my muse. The song I heard had a line about the ability to blow out the candle.... and my mind took the bate and I wrote something for those involved with Alcoholic Anonymous. Why post such an essay if I do not belong to this particular club I will never know. As a writer, it is the behavior on mankind that feeds my pen.
So I wrote a short essay:

The Flame

The candle stood alone and I blew the flame out, I was satisfied.
I will have one beer and no more, I will watch the charred wick. I can do this.
Maybe one more beer, I know it is okay.
The house next door, west of me is, is on fire.
I cannot blow the flames out, that will feed the fire.
My son is safe, he is at the house to the east, my son is safe.
My candle does not burn, I will have one more beer.
I will watch the blacken wick. I know my son is safe at the house to the east or was it the west.

The flames are being nourished by something I cannot see, better have one more beer.
The flames are mesmerizing, I will have one more beer.
What time is it? Where do all the empty bottles come from? I lost track.
Where is my son? What happened?

The ambulance came, his face was charred like the wick on my candle.
My son is dead, his flame burns no more.

A doctor named Gladys

2010-07-29T01:27:00.000-07:00

Today I was with Dr. Gladys T. McGarey, MD., MD (H)... a retired doctor of medicine, a friend, a mentor and so much more. 89 years filled with wisdom, patience, knowledge she picked up from her parents who were medical missionary, India where she was born, medical schools where she learned medicine... She also learned early on during her career that her patients were her greatest teachers...They taught her the art of helping others in the healing process.

This woman knows that medicine is an art, a living art. She has taken the time to perfect this subtle and balanced dance. She is knows as the Mother of Holistic Medicine. This is a mark of distinction no one else can claim. No longer in active practice, nearly 60 years was the time to venture in something else.

I remember the first time I met her. A time when I took better care of my car than I did my body. First of all, she greeted me in the hall way preceding her office door. The greeting was a hug, I must say I nearly fell, most doctors I had met before and since went out of their way never to touch me. Dr. Gladys talked to me for what seemed to have been an eternity. Now I know she was allowing me to express who I was, exposing myself to her, she was getting to know me, the whole person, and yes she was interested to know what was bothering me, but she had no interest in killing or eradicate, pieces of me. She told me about my body attempting to talk to me. I was not being too kind to this body that carried me far and near. Over worked and under paid, my body needed payment, in form of rest, stress management, exercise and proper nourishment. I had no time for that and wondered why I ran out of fuel...

I do not need to go though details but when I left this "woman's office because by that time I was with a very good friend who gave me tons of advise. My greatest sadness that day was that I did not take notes. Did she cure me? No, she helped me cure myself... Did I take enough drugs to make my head spin and my body sicker with reactions? No, she gave me the tools to change the many things I was doing wrong. This does not mean Dr. Gladys never gave me a prescription? She did when I needed one.

I must go back to today's meeting, you see, Dr. Gladys with her foundation is teaching about the feminine face of medicine. I will write something just about that, the next time. For the moment, PREVENTIVE medicine is the subject, she talks and educates male and female doctors, nurses and other health practitioners this art... the stuff that stop people from becoming obese, or diabetics, the stuff that allows the birthing process to be a natural one, the stuff that permits the aging process to also be an acceptable part of being alive. I could go on and on but I know you understand what I am saying.

There is a lot going on in the face of medicine, in many hospitals they know that the medical model/system is rather broken. Medical practitioners do want to express the good sides of what they learned.

A series of breakfast/talks are being offered in various places to medical staffs and the general public, these talks are educational in nature. The next one is on September 23, of this year. If you want to know more and be one of my guest, feel free to contact me. evelinenow@gmail.com is ready to answer questions.

My Plate, Arizona, My Plate

2010-05-05T15:32:00.000-07:00

There is a lot of talk about Arizona these days, immigration, legal or not, borders virtual or not.

I find myself thinking of countries, languages, acceptance and tolerance and I am questioning understanding of such principles. Can I lump all this to my already full plate?

I entered the USA using legal channels I can therefore judge only by the content of my experience. Were the people I encountered accepting or tolerant of me? No, not at all must be my answer. I did not fit! I did not speak the language of the land, I did not eat the foods of land, I walked aimlessly down the rabbit hole not knowing how I got there or where it would take me.

The borders I have crossed provided me with a need for my own boundaries. I had to create a safe envelope. Did anyone know I was frightened, ill at ease? No, of course not, they were engaged in their own lives.

I made an enormous discovery! LANGUAGE, I learned the language of the land. I could fit with more ease, some began to accept me because we could communicate, some began to tolerate me because although they realized we were different we were not afraid of each other.

The rabbit hole became my pasture simply because I was able to communicate without restrain. I of course was a legal entity and from my experience that made enormous differences.

Now I know no matter what, my plate, can only receive what it can hold, I cannot give my rightful food to hungry people around me. I must nourish myself first. Is my plate different from a State?

I am a writer, not a politician, I am a humanitarian and I know I must first accept myself, perhaps after that I will make room for those I do not yet accept. I am also one that entered the country via legal channels, this allowed me the methods to lose fears and learn the language, this also allowed the choice to become an American.

From my vintage point, if we lived on a planet without borders, I probably would not be having such thoughts but we do reside on a planet where everything is rather complicated and until these things change I trust I must simply write.

As I write these lines I know again that the lessons I learned when writing my first book Lessons from the Lakeside are all indeed pointing toward the discovery of self.

I will invite to my table those I know I can share a meal with. I cannot invite you all, I simply do not have enough.