Update and Good News

For those of you who don’t know, Zharmae Publishing has agreed to publish Bartleby: A Scrivener’s Tale, and expects it to be in print sometime in 2017.  The novel is, of course, the real story behind Herman Melville's character, and short story, "Bartleby, The Scrivener."

The Dead Letter Office in Washington City, where it all begins

I finished the first full edit for Bartleby today and sent it off to Zharmae publishing.  I’ve been feeling edgy and restless yesterday and today, vaguely guilty, as though I’ve done something wrong, or neglected to do something important.  This is sort of typical for my anxiety disorder, but I always hate it. 

I have found, over the years, that if I spend some time writing, working toward my goals, or just letting the Muse take me, I usually feel much better afterward.  Perhaps that ill-at-ease feeling is simply my Muse telling me to get to the keyboard.  Still, she could be nicer about it!

We are looking forward to our trip to Illinois / Iowa for my youngest daughter’s wedding in September, and to retrieve our furniture (at least some of it) from storage.  But the thought of trip itself and the cost is enough to give me worry fits; I’m a little terrified that finances will catch us short!  They say courage is not the absence of fear, but the willingness to do something even if you ARE afraid.  So I am trying to stay courageous. (She said, trembling.)

Rick beating cancer is the best news we have had, followed by the acceptance of my novel for publishing, then the wedding, so overall, it has been a good year so far.  Keeping my fingers crossed that our luck holds out and that things continue to improve over the struggles of the past.  

Here is a poem to share:

Poem Life of a Crystal

I was born in the dark

Of the Earth

In the heat and the weight of time.

I was freed in a flash

By a blast

And carried by forces sublime.

I was worn for a time

By a priestess

In a land now deeply submerged.

I was washed by the ocean

For eons

Until from the tide I emerged.

I lay on the beach

Forever

A spark in the sun and sand,

Til an artist came by

With a marvelous eye

And now I am worn on her hand.

© Catt Foy, 2015

Healing with Spiritual Light--New Moon

A gathering tonight at The Friends House of Eugene (Quakers) to transfigure with light and journey, yielded this poem.

New Moon Journey

by Catt Foy

Spread my wings in a sunny meadow,

Near a seashore.

From a flower I become a dragonfly, a butterfly

Above a bluff, a gull.

Then diving down, beneath the waves,

Becoming sleek, a seal.

To flap and splash on deep blue swells.

Beneath the waves again

Then

Washed ashore, my five star-limbs

Against the sand

Abandoned by the tide

To die, I lie

And watch the setting sun.

The darkness grows,

I glow. A glowing star upon the beach,

A rising star upon the wind

With limbs a-flowing,

A growing star, a northern star

A new Polaris sparkling

In a dark and diamond sky.

--August 14, 2015

Look for the Sparkle

It is the morning of my husband’s first cancer-related surgery.

I’m sitting in the bathroom, reading a dismal story in Mother Earth News about the destructive wake of big agri-business—the loss of family farms, the death of small towns, the pollution of the environment and the toxification of our food. While towns die, Tyson foods records some $700 million in clear profit even in a bad year, economically. 

A sense of powerlessness makes me stop reading mid-article.  I do what I can, but where is everyone else?  Why do the power-mongers go unchecked?  What more can I do in the face of such overwhelming powers?

Nestled in the nap of the bathroom carpet, a single piece of glitter—a stray from some sparkling garb—winked at me with twinkle enough to tickle a fairy’s fancy.

Such little lights among the drab nap of life remind me that there is always a spark of hope.  I cling to it like a drowning kitten to a piece of driftwood and hope the coming tide is not too high to inundate us completely.

The taxi will be here soon, to take us to the hospital where a port will be installed in my husband’s chest—a little valve allowing the insertion of the chemotherapy which begins later this week.  From now on, only organic chicken from local farms. We have to continue to do whatever we can. Focus on that sparkle of light, and pray it is enough to save us from the tide.