Spiritual Inspiration

Daisy, my Spiritual Mentor

My faith was born under the cherry or apple tree. As a child, Daisy was my teacher. She could teach about God by a smile, the way she held out her hand, how she listened to my stories, by her patience, and by the strength of her character and Spirit.
As a child, I understood nature, sensed how life should be, accepted what it wasn't on most days, placed hope in tomorrow by living today, and trusted my instinct to know right from wrong and direction.
She taught by her compassion and gentleness to judge fairly or not at all, by her tolerance I learned to look for the good in people, and that the best way to teach was by being or reaching for the best within myself. Daisy as my friend, I sensed early on that we are all God's children; that more makes us the same than different and the contents of a person's heart measures Soul and worth.


Excerpt from Dear Daisy

(2/14/2001)

...I do realize that others hold preconceived visions of Justice that may not be my own and realize that some may be disappointed by the terms of this settlement. I chose this path as it reflects another source of my belief structure that guides my life and is based upon influences I hold dear to my heart. How fitting that this personal level of resolution would occur during this month of February as we celebrate our bonds through contributions of Black culture that I lived so closely with and my heart was nurtured by during my early years.

The motto of the National Association of Colored Woman, “Lifting As We Climb” expresses most closely my own beliefs and guides in word what my heart attempts in action for daily living. Perhaps my sharing this additional detail with you will help to further clarify the Justice path I chose.

From Twentieth Century Negro Literature, 1902
“And so lifting as we climb, onward and upward we go, struggling and striving and hoping that the buds and blossoms of our desires will burst into glorious fruition ere long. With courage born of success in the past, with a keen sense of responsibility, which we must continue to assume, we look forward to the future, large with promise and hope. Seeking no favors because of our color or patronage because of our needs, we knock at the bar of justice and ask for an equal chance.”

God be with us on our pathways of Peace and Justice,
Jane


Dedication
This work is dedicated with all my love to Daisy.
Her warmth taught me love, her gift of patience taught me to search my heart for patience with others, her Soul taught me strength equal to compassion, and through her love and guidance I learned to reach for my World.

Every blade of grass has its Angel that bends over and whispers, "Grow, grow." -The Talmud


Dear Daisy,
with all my love,

'Mis Jane

http://www.risingsparrowpress.com/announce.htm

Lake Ontario Shoreline

Lakeview looking North from the Southern Shoreline

For additional Author's Photography, words and picture images.

http://lakeontarioshoreline.blogspot.com/

http://www.risingsparrowpress.com/announce.htm

What Inspires the Writer?

I could also ask, "What inspires the writing? for many times it is hard to separate the writer from the writing.

Many days...times when the writing takes a break or I, the writer do...I look up and there is my proof...at least for me...at least some clue...and I smile for what my heart sees to connect with if only to capture the next word or phrase...

Upstate...Lake Ontario Shoreline view...while sitting on her bank hard not to dream about what sits on the other side; or to notice that cloud mass coming in, or the fog; or the stillness of the Lake as the sun chooses to move on down the horizon; watching for the patterns by day and trying to guess the probability or intensity of the storm by sound or instinct alone by night. Ah, but the Captains and Mariners of old could tell better than I. Then again, I've heard stories told down more than not, saying "The Lake, that one Ontario, storms she can brew more dangerous than the Ocean for the waves she could produce, especially deep middle as she crosses..."

And here I am going on and on telling yet another story...you see it's, well,...hard not to with so much in front of my sight and memory eyes, for each image I have imbedded in heart and most days of my life I have seen them replay.

Hard not to learn the stories, carried down like some daily bread and having the landscape and history remains all around to confirm the telling mostly true. Like the stories of the Ore Beds and the Erie Canal...next town over, due West or South. None have I written, songs that is...but many have been written and sung while traveling along the Erie Canal on boat or cargo barge. http://www.eriecanalcruises.com/index.html

Time has changed...and I suspect maybe the mule, still the landscape much the same, at least that space between the Villages and Towns along her path...but the heart and the words that come to a heart tredgin' on down the Erie Canal on a summer's day...no, not that much has changed at all.

Jane Marla VerDow

Pooh Bear

The next chapter...

Times falling between the living it and the "day job", next chapters and next books competed for my time and begged me to follow.

My Earth walking companion, a true loyal friend, my editor for those spur of the moment read it outloud checks whether happening day or late-early hours of dark; "So Levi,...how's this sound?"...

While I was writing Dear Daisy he had grown to be 14 years old. I could count on him mostly to vote positive, though there were times he yawned or the worst, if I was well into the story and he didn't bother to lift his head off his pillow or doggie bed. Just a look, one eye open...that answered all I had asked. My four paw companion would move on after Dear Daisy was written and bound...a loss I could have lived many more years without feeling....and as I lived it...I couldn't help but notice that his passing...well, let's just say, for all the losses...I have never felt anything to feel more like the end of a chapter.

Levi
"Levi Strauss"; "lit'l Lee"; "Eeyore"


So I swore "never again"...and life answered by pulling me forward...distractions and reminders of reasons why you are here have a funny way of doing that...

Then there came the next dog character...

Bear
and the next story...

so I chose to live it...to follow...just to see where this one would take me.

I stumbled upon this yesterday during my daily research the internet time for publishing; seeing what is rare and old and catching up to the just written new in the literary world. Yes...I am a blog reader, and an internet scanner, but not to confuse you...and mostly to assure myself that I haven't become a modern techie of this century...I settle upon just a few...

Here's one you don't stumble upon everyday...and let me assure you, as a writer, after reading this
I am taking special interest in my box of Crayolas...

http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/entertainment/6635575.stm

Janie



"THE OLD GREY DONKEY, Eeyore, stood by himself in a thistly corner of the forest, his front feet well apart, his head on one side, and thought about things. Sometimes he thought sadly to himself, "Why?" and sometimes he thought, "Wherefore?" and sometimes he thought, "Inasmuch as which?" -and sometimes he didn't quite know what he was thinking about. So when Winnie-the-Pooh came stumbling along, Eeyore was very glad to be able to stop thinking for a little, in order to say "How do you do?"..."

From Chapter Four, In Which, Eeyore Loses a Tail and Pooh Finds One, The Complete Tales of Winnie-the-Pooh, A.A. Milne with Decorations by Ernest H. Shepard/Winnie-the-Pooh, copyright 1926 by E. P. Dutton & Co., Inc./Presentation copyright 1994 by Dutton Children's Books.

The Question and The Answer

If you read through previous posts I’m sure you will see that time traveled from then to now. A gap measured in time more than heart space; filled with footsteps, discovery, explorations, distractions, and survival.

How much space do you need? (and) Fill your space. became the question and the answer that led my way day-to-day and guided me to this next place and time. This now I write of…this today.

As on the walk…integrating what I sensed my instinct with what I already knew and was to still learn on steps ahead until there were none left to take, not much different today than that day and I suspect not much different some near or distant tomorrow.

If challenged, I would have to answer that I’ve been more living the footsteps than actually on paper recording them. Heart moments sometimes are too challenging in the now, more space and time required to avoid flooding pages. Those were the footsteps, if given choice, I would have wished to postpone, better yet never have to take, but life is not designed that way, especially when a heart chooses to love. Letting go of the chapter to write the next can be the greatest challenge of a writer.

To write the next book?

Ah, that’s where the living the story comes in.

The Heart Knows

From somewhere deep within, there was a voice calling me home. I had to listen. When a child of any age hears that voice, there’s no denying it, least not to yourself, especially when the call becomes a whisper.

Jane Marla Ver Dow
Dear Daisy, 2004




Let your heart guide you. It whispers, so listen closely.
~ The Land Before Time