Crimson Ribbon of Joy Part 1

“Joy is the serious business of heaven.” CS Lewis Part 1 Under the Yew Tree The autumn air grew chilly as the sun dipped below the horizon. It was that time of day—just past sunset— that falls heavy in the air and everything on land, sea, and sky grows distant and melds into steely gray…

Where Flowers Crack the Stone

The Irish and Jewish peoples — so much alike. Who knew? “Others have a nationality. The Irish and the Jews have a psychosis,” Irish writer Brendan Behan. If you are casually glancing, the Jewish and Irish peoples seem like polar opposites.  But go deeper, and it becomes apparent there are strong similarities. 1)     Both have…

You’re Traveling too Much When…

You Know You are Flying Too Much When… Many people remark about the exciting international life my husband and I lead. We don’t really travel “all over the world,” but there are certain areas that we travel to frequently — Ukraine, Russia, Korea, Eastern Europe, Europe, Israel, Ethiopia, Zimbabwe, Mexico, Brazil, Mexico, and Argentina. Sometimes,…

Creative Synapases

Creative Synapses My creative synapses will make sense to me someday. They will not sputter in chaotic release, release, yes, but that utterance of halting expression which I must tame and strengthen to the core will one day flow in order. Ideas that I must now systematize and pull and push into place, stuffing into…

Shaking Fists at You

Shaking Fists They’re shaking fists at you when the least little thing goes wrong. Prancing with chipped shoulders of entitlement, rising, gathering, hoarding and calling it their own. Fastly falling, they blame you for that too. Never pausing to consider or thank the source of strength or power or wealth or life itself. Yet you…

Hip Struck

Hip Struck I crave silence but not just any, rather the kind that slathers the soul like a soothing salve and leaves a blanket of protection, soft luxury upon the skin. The kind that penetrates the crusty rim and reaches the brittle reed within. Layers and layers of lanolin, silence swathes a path of healing,…

The Aspen

  The Aspen Imagine being so long and lean, white and perfectly exquisite, captivating and beautiful — towering through the clouds that it became unnecessary to notice the leaves of your faces or the branches of your lovely arms, except in autumn, yes, except in autumn. ©Bonnie Saul Wilks all rights reserved      …