We will be flying out at the end of July, right after I graduate from my MFA program. We don’t yet know where in Japan we will be placed. Most of our preparation these days revolves around learning the language. I relish this endeavor of increasing my ability to connect with others.

Holly’s back is feeling much better, and we are so grateful. Her shoulder hurts now though. My hearing has improved thanks to two surgeries now (I just had a second one). It’s difficult to underestimate what a difference this is making in my life!

I struggle with writing. I guess I always will. Self-motivation being the biggest challenge. I really want the story I’m working on to be a book, and I’m pushing myself to that end. Anne Ursu, my beloved mentor, really believes in my ability, and that is so motivating. I’ve found that the less “alone” this process is, the better I do. Writing stories is not usually a sharing or collaborative act. But I really believe one gigantic secret to writing joyfully is a strong community. I’ve started a writing critique group for male children’s writers with this in mind. There are eight of us and I think we’ve all really benefited thus far.

My prayer is for everything I do to be about togetherness.

So in the midst of this very foggy season of time, trying to write is like dipping from a dried up well.  Not being able to produce creative work makes me feel like I’m just fading away.

I don’t like not being able fix it for Holly.  I don’t like the feeling of “stuck” for me.  It makes me feel old and tired.  And yet, these circumstances have forced me to realize that the solution is not to fix or escape the pain.  The thing to do is to live it.  Notice it.  Stay with it.  Stay the course.   Even if it squelches me down into nothing, stay with it to the very last dying breath.

When I stop trying to avoid the pain, when I see it, there comes a new awareness that is helpful.  It’s like more space opens up in my mind and body, and I know that I am a part of a presence that is greater than my pain.  I’m no longer identified with the pain, but with something older and stronger.  And this presence sees me.  Notices me.   Loves me.  Is with me.

Most  days I feel like the world is too small.  Even if I climbed every mountain and explored every cave – even if I lived in all the cities in all the countries of the world, it would not be enough.  Only the ever expanding universe will do.   Growing.  Becoming.   I want to fill it all.

Something happened when I gave up striving for being. The world started talking to me. It was like I had the gift for many tongues inside me, waiting to be released.

On a log, before a falls, Holly and I closed our eyes and became those water droplets, crashing into the rocks – the fullness of glory in that one fleeting moment of being. It felt, completely, like we were the little fairy spirits of those water droplettes. And we were.

Last night, I watched a movie called War Dance, about a Ugandan tribe oppressed by rebels. The children tell stories, devastation in their eyes, of watching the murder of their parents, of being forced to kill innocent people as child soldiers, of finding a way to peace through music and dance. And as they spoke, I existed there, my heart ushered them all in. It was pure agony. But there is something more. Music, dance, art and story remind us of it. Pain is not the end.

I wondered why people strive and suffer, and say it is all in God’s name and according to God’s will. As if God is some kind of puppet master over and above us all, pulling all the strings.

Something happened when I gave up striving for being.  God started talking to me.  Everywhere I went.

Stop looking for me over and above you.  I am, have been, and always will be

with you.

Click on our feet for "The End" by Andy Hunter

• Wrote to the half-way point in my fantasy novel
• Grandfather passed away
• Took an epic road trip from Los Angeles to Bozeman in grandfather’s car (a gift)
• Got tazed
• Holly gave me this card for my 28th birthday
• Read books
• Completed my second children’s writing residency in Minnesota
• Got really sick
• Walked like a duck

I’m only going to elaborate on the last one.

In the last entry, I expressed a perspective that though life is 90% pain, it’s worth it for the other 10%. I don’t think that’s an adequate statement. Life isn’t a ratio of pain to pleasure. It’s all here and now. Pain is valid as human experience, but the closer you look at it, the more you see it for what it is – an illusion. It’s something you create for yourself in your mind.

I walked like a duck. I did the noises too. I just wanted to play. You know that’s not too uncommon. But this time, I asked myself what I was doing.
“Just being 28,” said me. I duck walked into an epiphany. Being here and now – that’s what play is. And you don’t have to walk like a duck. Any time you practice living in the moment, you experience the same joy. You play.
I’m just being 28. Just being here and now. That’s what that picture reminds me of. If I am willing to pay attention, to really be present here and now, I begin to see what is beneath the illusions all around me. What is older? What is truer?

Love is older! Love is truer! Love remains after all the fear, worry, striving and other things that aren’t real are stripped away.

Play is loving yourself. Because A) Love does not look at who you were in the past or will be in the future (illusions). It looks at who you are here and now. And B) Who you are here and now is the thing that blooms when you play.
I duck walked, and I laughed. I was hilarious. I was the funniest freaking person in the whole world.

Holly and I have been experiencing pain together this month on a number of fronts.  She has hurt her back and is in constant physical pain, not to mention having to suffer the frustration of being an invalid.
One thing we’ve decided during our many commiserations together is that our lives have been mostly pain.  You just have to own it.  You have to live in the pain, not just wait for it to get over with, otherwise you’ll be dead before you ever got around to living.

It’s a fact.  There’s no way to get around the reality of pain.  So what makes it worth it?  If life is 90% pain, why keep going on?  Because, oh that other 10%!  That other 10%, for those that have experienced it, makes the pain worth it a hundred times over.  That other 10% is true love.

What about the multitudes who have never experienced it, you say?  What is the answer to the problem of pain for them?  You.  You and I, reaching out through our own pain and grabbing their hands and declaring solidarity with them, and together, becoming something more.

Speaking of true love, Holly and I celebrated two years together, Sept. 3.  Check out this vid I made for her!

Did you know that I too, am a hero of old and boy of destiny? I had forgotten until I wrote this character! It is entirely magical how the way you make choices completely changes when you consciously step into a chosen identity. In honor of this choosing, I purchased something I have always wanted – a sword. Not just any sword, but the Non-commissioned officer’s sword. The one I earned when I became a corporal in the United States Marine Corps but never got. The one I always wanted even before I became a Marine. And what a thing of beauty it is! I have never felt prouder to be a warrior, a Marine, a hero of old, and a boy of destiny!

What does Holly think of all the sword wielding going on around here? Well, she beams and tells me I am a hero indeed. Would she have married anything less? Plus, she is a starry-eyed princess who swoons when I rescue her.

We passed our two weeks together attending classes on subjects across the spectrum of the craft, dialogging in small-group workshops about our manuscripts, and just generally being enthralled with each other.

The faculty was so impressive it was occasionally hard for me to adjust to interacting with them on a daily basis. Award winning authors all, and at the top of their craft. In particular, I will mention Anne Ursu, whose contributions to young-adult fantasy I have much admired. Anne is passionate, funny and insightful.  Developing a repiore with her was a thrill.

The way the program works in between residencies is each student is assigned a mentor from the faculty who works closely with their manuscript and critical essay projects throughout the semester. About mid-way through the residency, we turn in a sheet with our top seven choices. As we all hold deep admiration and awe for our faculty, you can imagine that the topic of who our mentor will be generates quite a bit of buzz.

I will tell you how I found out who my mentor was. A wine and cheese reception was held at the end of one of the latter days of the residency. White envelopes had been prepared for every student. As I sipped my Merlot, our smiling school dean handed me an envelop with my name on it. Within I found a fortune-cookie strip of paper that said “Your faculty/advisor is Anne Ursu.” I felt larger than life (I was also finishing my second glass of Merlot). As I looked up, my eyes met Anne’s. She waved and flashed me a grin as she watched me absorb the news from the other side of the room.  She’s working with four of us this semester (that’s us in the picture - Anne’s in the middle).  She calls us the Fellowship.

I think that’s why I love writing children’s science fiction/fantasy stories so much. I agree, our minds should be well grounded, but our souls should fly! A child’s soul responds to wonder. I think it is how we sense we are personally and forever loved. I think it is the language of God. May our children become fluent at an early age!

he fairies. Early the next morning, Holly brought the blossoms of one dozen white roses and surrounded the fairy house. The following day, we found this note next to the house. Holly responded by drawing a beautiful flower on the note in the middle of the night. The exchange ended with one final thank you note to the fairies from the children. These happy little people only know us as their upstairs neighbors. How wonderful it is to watch them grow and play in the knowledge and truth of fairies!

With those words, I felt my brain leap from a world of vague possibility, and burst into a world of direct communication with my dream. They aren’t too far from each other really, the secret is in the leaping and bursting. This thing is going to happen. I am no longer saying “If they accept me,” or “I could apply for that program.” I am striding down the path now. I am talking to my dream, sitting at its feet.

My hope these days is for a fellowship to come find me, or for me to join them.
Holly, who is my true soulmate, has finished her temp work for the college. It was a gift to see her for lunch everyday. Those in her office begged both her and me for her continued employment. Her light shined so brightly, you could see it’s reflection in their eyes. She goes now to rest and transition to new things. Please remember her health to the Starmaker, whose gaze towards us is adoring, tender and bright.