New website up at www.lorarivera.com!

After squirreling away the domain for the past 6 years, I've finally had some downtime and built a website! See you over at www.lorarivera.com.

Also, on Kauai, I managed to read a few books (The Monstrumologist (okay), A Gathering of Shadows (couldn't put it down), The Story Grid (holy smokes!)).

This voracious reading experience was made possible by two 6+ hour Hawaiin Airlines flights, where they actually serve you complimentary food and (even adult) beverages!

It was also made possible by my new Kindle Oasis. Which is amazeballs. I vacillated between an iPad and a Kindle for several months (read 6). I finally settled on the latter. I hate reading on my iPhone (paper-girl all the way) and thought I might not like the device. I was wrong. It is amazeballs. Did I say that? I can't stop raving. The only trouble is the cover; one should not have to buy leather if one doesn't prefer it. Really, Amazon.

I found a few hours to write on the layover in Honolulu. Got in the flow and almost missed my flight to Phoenix. Best feeling ever.

L.

Kauai overlooking the Kalalau trail along the Na Pali Coast

The Block (On Writing)

The way forward's been dark for some time.

Many years ago, back when I had faith in things unseen, I had a dream in three parts. (I thought then it was a dream about wandering in the desert, judged aberrant, unworthy, and that God would find me after years of thirst to take me to the promised land.)

First, a dream-baby. I ran with her through a desert gouged by deep holes. I kept dropping her, over and over, as I ran from something unseen.



Then, a kite festival. We flew wind-borne men, not paper and string, in joyful colors -- sinew and skin stretched over a latticework of bone.



Finally, I stood surrounded by darkness. A wind picked up that tore away everything I held dear. My family, friends, pets, job, money, home, jewelry, clothes. It ripped away my driver's license and social security card, my birth certificate, my wedding ring, my name. I lay naked and curled at the bottom of the dark for a long time.

Meanwhile, the world went on.

Still, something called to me, winging silent through the dark. I followed, lonely and faithless.

This lasted almost two years.

What I didn't know was that by listening and moving, just one foot in front of the other, laboriously, I was walking the faithway into myself.

And one day I sat in front of a blank page, cursor blinking, and I wrote:

[allow it to suck. Here, words. Now, words. Go ahead and suck....]

And the next day I sat in front of a blank page, cursor blinking, and I wrote:

[What is the point? Magic. Lightness of being. The sound of dancing, spinning, singing at the sky. Flow. That's the point. Is this hard? So breathe. What is the point? Enjoying the movement and flow. The sound of the keys going, the music of them. The feel of the story scrolling out under your fingertips, like a dance. So what is success here? It's the feel of the dance, and you've already entered it. You've already succeeded, you're breathing and feeling the sound of the breath in your nostrils and the words in your head. So try hard. Dance hard. That is success. And if you fall? IF YOU FALL you fall. And you've tried hard and you've felt the dance in your fingertips. Kiss them. They get you fucking far, lover-creator-mine. You are amazing.]

And the day after that?

I looked back and saw the Block, how big it was, and how far it was behind me.

Yours (still walking away),
xo
Lora

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Gracie, kitten and old lady cat, photo taken 6 days before her death

Gracie died today of complete and acute kidney failure. Eric went with me to euthanize her. I cherish that kindness. She drank pond water, the last thing she wanted, she craved it, stumbled for it around midnight in a blind rush, head first, on wobbly, failing legs. The only thing she'd drink. She loved flopping on the concrete walkway. She loved sunlight and tall grass and chasing treats when she was not generally being a sofa lump, as cats tend to do. She loved best in all the world just being held. She was always greedy and overweight. She charmed even dog folk. She was a zealous purrer. She purred hard for 15.5 years. She moved homes 10 times. She bullied dogs and loathed cats. She loved me, or whatever cats do. I loved her very much. My heart is strong enough to hurt. Death came fast for her, and she didn't suffer long. This morning I sat and held her and told her how beautiful she was, how perfect she was, how I was so glad to know her. What a good and perfect, holy friend.

Eric R and Eric S walked with me to bury her under the oak tree on the hill, which turned out to be a rosewood.

On Sabbatical

You also deserve to say "Enough."

~Lora

Photo credit: Eric Ruljancich