Author Archives: Write2Unpack

The Hanged Man

Or Change Your Perspective

I met with some friends last week for some much needed inspiration. Life has been, well, like it’s been for everyone for the last almost-two-years: really busy, constantly changing, and really hard. Everything changed, several times. Everyone’s angry or rude. We’ve been isolated and have lost our social graces and the ability to relate kindly to another human. Meeting with these friends reminded me that life is all about perspective and how we perceive our situation. Sometimes what we need is simply to change how we look at things.

The Hanged Man in the Tarot is about a couple of things. One of them is to simply pause and reflect, another is that you should view your situation from a new perspective.

In April of 2015 I wrote a blog post here about Perspective v. Perception, and was encouraged to repost the lesson, as it certainly seems as timely today as it did almost 6 years ago.

My house sits on almost an acre of property in the middle of orchards. Some of that is maintained, and a large “lawn” down below our house is part of what we maintain – or try to. I have a riding mower, thank heavens, and there are mature fruit trees planted in the lawn that you have to mow around and under. We water this lawn with irrigation water, so we’re literally re-seeding it with dandelions as soon as we mow them all down.

One summer day, I was standing on my deck overlooking the field of dandelions below. Already cursing the thought of running over them in the mower, the little white fluffs flying into the air sticking to the sweat on my skin, getting in my ears, eyes, and up my nose. As I stood there, already imagining batting them away and trying to get them out of my nose, my youngest son (who was 4, I think?) came up beside me and stood on the bench and looked out at the field with me.

“MOOOOOOOOMMMMM!” He patted my arm excitedly, his little eyes sparkled as he looked out at the field of shaggy grass and soon-to-be-flying weeds. “Look at all the WISHES!”

Bam. Reality check from a 4-year-old.

I looked out and saw only work and hardship. I cursed their very existence. He looked out and saw unlimited wishes and potential dreams coming true.

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We were both looking at the same field of grass and dandelions, but the difference was how we chose to see them.

My husband has Multiple Sclerosis. I can look at that and bemoan the fact that he can’t feel his hands or feet, or hate that he can’t walk well or very far. I can mourn the loss of freedom for him and, by default, me.

Or I can change my perspective.

His MS progressing has pushed us into a healthier lifestyle we never would have even considered before <cough, cough, Wahls Protocol>. I’ve seen people go out of their way to be kind and helpful to him when he’s fallen down, or stuck with his walker, or patient with him when he walks slow. Seriously folks, there are good people out there everywhere. If he didn’t have MS we wouldn’t be on this health journey, and it’s quite possible I would have lost all faith in humanity.

When I was with my friends whining that I hadn’t written in 6-9 months – all I did was write at work (boring legal stuff, not the cool worlds I create!) My friend reminded me that what I had really been doing was practicing my scales. Musicians practice boring, rote stuff all the time to sharpen their abilities and keep them fresh. That’s what I had been doing. I had, indeed, been writing the entire time I thought I wasn’t. I was simply practicing my scales in preparation for this month and my own NaNoWriMo adventure. Perspective is the difference, and I have his word (SCALES!) he wrote on a restaurant napkin where I can see it to remind myself.

So, my request of you, my reader, is to take stock of a situation in your own life you’re unhappy with and pause and reflect on it. How can you change your perspective? How does that change your situation?

What do you see?

The Dansari (The Dancer)

I know I’ve been absent for nearly a year (seriously, like 200+ days ago…), but I’m back! Life has made a bit of a pivot for me. I’ve recommitted to writing, and writing a monthly blog is (one teensie) part of it. I’ve joined a year-long writing challenge (more about that later), and within my writing group the monthly challenge I’ve laid out is: 1 month, 1 prompt, 1,000 words. September’s prompt inspired the story below. I hope you like it, and always crave more.

*****

The Dansari

By Melissa Gale

 

This is the last of it, the water that is. I shuffle toward the water’s edge with the others from my village. The last for their animals and my people, and that’s why she came… The Dansari.

“Sabina!” my friend whispers excitedly. “Look at her! She’s so young!”

Bare feet make a shushing sound on the dry ground as everyone shuffles solemnly toward the edge. The leaves of the pettle tree crackle as the breeze touches them. The sound of bees buzzing around the edge of the water, louder in the unnatural quiet, is mesmerizing.

“Mailys, you have to be quiet!” I hiss. “We can’t make any sound. You know what happened last time!”

Last year a small boy cried while he was walking to the water’s edge. He stepped on a bee near the water and his foot had swollen to twice it’s normal size. His father stood with the boy in front of him, covering his mouth and nose to keep him quiet. I still wasn’t sure if the boy’s death was a punishment for the offense, or if the father had caused it himself. You do not insult the Dansari.

She comes once a year, near the end of harvest as the plants and water are drying up, to perform The Supplication. The ritual that puts the plants to sleep, protecting them from the cold that comes with the dark, and opens the sky to allow the water and snow to fall again.

“She’s supposed to be more than a hundred wintercress harvests!” Mailys whispered, a little quieter this time.

“That’s just what our parents tell us. They’ve been saying that since I was only five harvests, and when the snow falls I’ll be 16. They only say that because they think the fear of being chosen as the next Dansari will keep us quiet,” I say, looking fondly at my friend. “and clearly that doesn’t work on you.”

“Don’t you think it would be amazing? You know, to be chosen as the next Dansari?”

“Living a hundred harvests while you travel to other lands to bring the sleep and rains? Watching as your family ages and dies before you? Never having the chance to say ‘goodbye?’ That does not sound amazing to me.”

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Mailys looks longingly at the woman in the center of the pool. Her long, dark brown hair cascades over her shoulders  and breasts as she looks down, avoiding eye contact with any of the villagers approaching the edge. Not that the villagers would try to make eye contact. Over the last few harvests I have been hearing more often that the Dansari choose their own replacement.

“No one knows when the last sleep will take us, Dansari or not,” I whisper, “and nobody knows how the Dansari are chosen.”

“Well, maybe this really is the year,” Mailys whispers. “You’re just into birthing years, like me, and also never lain with a man.”

“That’s because no man will have us!” I laugh. “Ow!”

The sound of father’s hand is loud enough to make the other villagers turn. Looking at my feet, I rub my arm. Feeling the heat rise in my cheeks, I don’t need to look up to feel the anger on father’s face. The Supplication is an important ritual. Probably the most important ritual, and I was disrespectful to the Dansari. I will have to pay for the shame brought to my family.

We arrive at the edge of the water. The pool is pretty small this late into harvest, but there’s a small island of sand in the middle that’s just under the surface. That’s where the Dansari stands. I inspect her more closely. She has a trim body, probably from walking to all the villages she has to visit. Watching from the edge, I see her wiggle her toes in the shallow water that covers the island. It gives the unsettling illusion that she’s standing on top of the water.

The Dansari looks up and makes eye contact with the village elder, focusing only on him, and nods. He starts to bang his stick on the ground, bang… bang… bang… bang… creating a tempo for her. His wife sits to his left, and begins to circle the bronze bowl in her lap with the leather-wrapped mallet. The sound is hollow and numbing, it paralizes all thought.

The Dansari clasps her hands at her chest, closes her eyes and tilts her head back. Praying to Vetur for the safe transition of the plants to their sleep, and for the rains to be sent here once again. Listening for his answer.

The villagers bow in unison. They stand and begin to rub their hands together, making the sound of dry paper being rustled.

Bang… bang… bang… my head spins as the air is permeated with bees, ringing and static. Grabbing the sides of my legs to steady myself, I watch as the Dansari drops her arms and slowly rolls her head in a circle as she starts to dance. Her movements are slow and beautiful. As fluid as the streams in early spring.

Bang… bang… like a tapping inside my head, the beats come faster now. A few villagers have started to stomp in time to the rhythm as they rub their hands. The earth vibrates under my feet as I watch the dancer move gracefully, stepping lightly across the island while lifting her arms to the sky.

You never know when the last sleep will take you. It’s the same for everyone, and everyone needs the water. I look up at the sky searching for the rains, willing the skies to open and release their water. Closing my eyes, I feel the vibration of my people, and will the rain to come to me – to my people. They’re all my people.

Bang… bang… faster still. All of the villagers have joined in the ritual now. The first drops of rain begin to fall, wet drops on my face as I begin to sway. With my eyes closed I reach out to her… and surrender.

The World Needs More Romance

Earlier this month I attended the Emerald City Romance Writers’ Conference with a friend and fellow romance writer. It was an amazing weekend filled with lessons on how to pitch to agents/editors, writing sex scenes, self-publishing, editing your own stories, and writing dialog – really anything you’ve ever wanted to learn about writing romance was offered. That weekend, though, I learned something I already knew. Sort of an epiphany, I realized how important it is and I felt compelled to share it with you. Ready?

“The world needs more romance.”

When I was a little girl my mother had all the Harlequin romance books. You know the thin little books with Victorian ladies who wear gloves and carry parasols. I didn’t understand how she could enjoy reading them. I preferred Anne McCaffrey, Robert Asprin (they’re sci-fi), Nancy Drew mysteries, and anything written by Stephen King. I’d rather read anything except romance. Although I still read science fiction, mysteries, and horror, it strikes me as sort of ironic that I read and write romance now (sci-fi erotic romance… but still romance).  I love love. I love kindness, compassion, and passion, and what I didn’t realize as a girl was that romance is more than just entertainment – it’s a necessity.

Romance is hopeful. The number one rule of romance novels is the Happily Ever After. You know if you’re reading a romance then the guy will get the girl, or the girl will get the girl (depends on what you read). That’s the Happily Ever After, even if it’s just for now. Identifying with someone, seeing their struggles, watching them overcome seemingly insurmountable obstacles to end up with the one they love… that’s hope. If they can do it, so can you.

Romance is love. It’s funny, and sweet, and steamy, and tender. It’s connecting with another human being and making them feel special, and valued. Romance is different than sex, but in most relationships, if you want the sex to be great then you’ll need to engage in a little romance before.

Romance is fun! Seriously, don’t take it so seriously. Romance is probably the most fun and under-utilized endeavor in our relationships. Being romantic doesn’t take much work, and the payoff is great! Some people are afraid of romance… “What if it doesn’t work?” Here’s a little tip: Romance is seldom perfect, and it doesn’t have to be.

The secret to great romance? Easy, just three little things:

1. Talk to your lover. Communication is key in all relationships, intimate or not. What works for you may not work for him/her. Have a loving conversation with your partner and talk about what turns her on, and be willing to talk about what turns you on. It’s a gift of trust when you reveal your sexual and romantic preferences, and remember she or he’s trusting you as well. Trust like that will only serve to strengthen your bond and make any romantic venture more fulfilling.

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3. Appreciate your lover’s efforts. They have been willing to take a risk, and when you appreciate what they’ve done it gives their actions value. If someone feels valued they’re more likely to continue to do and try new things!

That’s it. It really is that simple, and a little romance yields great results. Like the tiny drop of water in a still pond, the impact is greater than the action.

So this month, my reader, I ask that you bring more romance into your relationships. Talk to your lover, take the risk, and appreciate the efforts. In a world struggling to maintain basic civility, I challenge you to bring more positivity, more playfulness, more hope, love, and happiness into the world.

P.S. One of my favorite things about romance? Cover models!

My thoughts are my own, but my pictures are generally found on Pinterest (you can find anything there!). If you like what I write, please share with your friends or someone you think would like it! I’d love it if you follow me on Facebook (Melissa Gale), Instagram (write2unpack), or Twitter (@write2unpack). If you have any topics you’d like to talk about, reach out to me at write2unpack@gmail.com. Oh, hey, and if you sign up to follow me you’ll never miss a post!