Home to Mourn

When Sophy found the presence of absence, she was... pissed. Jimmy took her home to mourn, but Sophy didn't want anything to do with that. She wanted to fill her moments with life, not face darkness, emptiness, loss and death. Returning from her war, Sophy most wanted to step into the bright currency of life, yet found herself in the darkness of home. Without Jimmy's guidance, she would have taken the fugitive run away from mourning. Instead she stayed there. The dark night would transform...

***

We mourn the death of individuals, but what about the little losses and 'small' deaths in our own life and those around us? ' The small losses get quickly swept away, tossed into the trash, shredded, or deleted. When the wave of grief and anger (or some negative emotion) shows up unannounced at the wrong time, we act surprised. Where did that come from?

We want to feel normal, not feel bad. We stay distracted - turning the presence of absence into the absence of presence. And so, all the little losses and little deaths accumulate into something much bigger. The Presence of Our Absence always returns.

The Presence of Absence

"The house has been empty, shuttered, braced against intrusion. You have the key. Inside all is dim, hushed. You take a few steps forward, drop the bags, and breathe in the slumber of your rooms. The dust has settled, but somehow the air is dense with stillness. Absence has a presence. You feel it and smell it and hear it; you sense it, the way an animal senses, fleetingly, in those few moments through the door.
The rooms ... they're not as you remember them. Absence warps, distorts. ,Everything seems slightly aslant somehow. Bigger. Smaller.
Perhaps you're unable to stand the silence. Or perhaps you can no longer resist the embrace of rooms poised to take you in. You're moved to break the spell. You breathe the heavy silence one last moment and you reach for a switch. Turn on the lights. ..."

Found Dominque Browning's words this weekend while flipping through a pile of saved magazines. What timing. What truths Dominique writes. The cover's header: Home Again.

SOURCE: House & Garden, Sept 1996, p. 29
"Welcome - Turn on the Lights" by Dominique Browning

Home

So tempted to add a few images, but it's best to keep it simple.
Home Again.

The Preview Copy - Going, Going, Almost Gone!

RESURGAM
Standing on the Ground of Remembrance

by Jean A. Niedert

Remember them echoes through every generation, and against the standing stones of history. The two words transform into a presence that enters Sophy’s awareness, directs her attention to the darkness, and whispers, “Go there.”

Their existence glimmers in the dark realm of the unknown. It pulses with life and rests with death. The light of their story is a mystery, which leads to the ground of war. The power of remembrance illuminates their truth. They lived. They loved. They have a story to tell.

Resurgam (Latin) - I shall rise again.

***
There aren't many preview copies left to sell so I'm removing the book's promotion from the top of ground of remembrance. The preview copy isn't the final call for the book. I believe it will remain true to its title. RESURGAM.

Go there

There are 47 preview books of RESURGAM left to sell.
The rough draft to story 2 is complete.
Sophy is on new ground.
It's time to refine the focus, which is exploring the ground of remembrance. I arrived at this place - the ground of remembrance - because I responded to the subtlest of calls, "Remember them." The first 'call for remembrance' arrived in the form of a white business envelope standing against a black panel, the second call was a chance sighting seen during a short feature on local TV show, and the third was a letter published in a book. All three 'calls for remembrance' were created by the same man: Phil Woodall. He was the first guide who encouraged this writer to "go there." War was not somewhere I wanted to go, but I wanted to learn about Alpha Company so I began the journey.

The copy on the book's back cover, "The two words transform into a presence that enters Sophy's awareness, directs her attention to the darkness, and whispers "Go there."
When I self-published the preview copy of RESURGAM I thought I had wrapped up the story. The writer had gone there. The characters had gone there. None ran away. RESURGAM was complete. I was done. I avoided having to write Sophy out of home because I (the writer) decided she would land in Washington DC.

As I distributed the batch of "preview copies," I began receiving the next round of clues. I met new teachers and guides. When synchronicity unfolded with ease, I knew an opportunity arrived. I learned I had to return to "Home."* I (the writer) had left Sophy standing there. I pretended not to see this, tried to forget it, thought my original idea of placing Sophy into DC would work.

24 years ago on January 28, I turned away from a sight I didn't want to see. It didn't matter. Turning away doesn't make reality go away. Today someone reminded me of the book's foreword: Resurgam is the promise that out of ashes grows new life. It is the mysterious transformation that delivers love and new life when one remembers and responds. A transformation can take a long, long time.

*"Home" is a chapter in RESURGAM.

Crack in the Sidewalk

The tangle of roots above the ground had pushed against cement. The tree had grown beyond the boundaries created by the sidewalk.

The Beauty of Imperfection

Those words were spoken by my dear friend, Bobby. I heard them the same day we learned everyone in the corporate offices would lose their jobs. The Sales Promotion Dept. left for a long lunch and landed at the Art Director's house. Bobby and I were sitting on the front porch swing. I pointed out a crack in the sidewalk and a few more imperfect details that I can't remember.
Bobby's reply. "Jean, that's the beauty of imperfection."
That was the most foreign idea I had heard. Beauty in imperfection? I lived in a world always striving for perfection. In that one moment, I visited the possibility. Beauty released from the limits of perfection.

It was 1990. I was exchanging letters with Phil, learning about his war and Alpha Company. I was losing my job. That day I was introduced to the beauty of imperfection. The boundaries were crumbling...