Soul’s Odyssey

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Soul’s Odyssey

Why is it so? This mystical longing, this wanderlust, this soul odyssey?

There are so many parts that make up this mortal body: the part that takes me to moments of happiness and joy, like love’s ecstatic swoons; the part that cries in the sadness of a child’s suffering, the madness of evil-doers, the movies that convey tragedies of loss; the part that yearns for new surroundings – desert, mountain, seaside territories – while knowing the respite and serenity will be but temporary.

But, then, the question is begged. I know full-well the answer. Along with the baffling DNA, the early mobility of childhood, a displaced family, and some steady diet of emotional soup, I am what I am. The good fortune for me: I did not go too far toward the ‘dark side’…that is, crime was never an option. Something innate, a good mother’s nurturing, kept me somewhat wholesome. Well, there was some naughtiness along the way, says he, tongue in cheek.

Crime and evil do fascinate me – the serial killers, mothers who torture and/or kill their children, psychopaths, sociopaths, all those who blame everyone around them for their degenerate natures.

So, I take my unsophisticated microscope to the bizarre news accounts of the day and write fictional accounts of the abductions, homicides, and felonious natures of the willful pursuits.

The funny thing, in those lines and between those lines that I write, there is self-discovery. I see pieces of me, bits of anger, anxiety, frustration, and even my ruling romanticism. The anger and frustration is of course directed toward the evil I’m fictionally chronicling. The anxiety, plus occasional tears, come with the depiction of those unsuspecting characters who have been killed, maimed, and emotionally disabled.

Writing is my therapy, my ‘sofa time’ on the psychiatrist’s sofa. After a considered good session on the laptop, my elation shows its self. There is a sweet sense of accomplishment. In re-reading the sections I’ve written, I am often elated and sometimes mumble to myself: ‘Did I write that’? There’s a feeling that an invisible hand has taken over the keyboard…a euphoria, if you will, that a particular chapter, paragraph, phrase, can stimulate me so much.

SOUL ODYSSEY came to me as the title for this blog post, and I wanted to share it with my fellow authors. For me, I think the title fits. Perhaps it does for you as well. My best wishes to all who peck the keys and create…     

Billy Ray Chitwood – April 25, 2017

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Here are three of my fourteen books…hope you can stop by my Website and preview these and books of different genres, see some books reviews, some author comments, and read some blog posts: https://billyraychitwood.com

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Acceptance

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Acceptance

I was taken from disturbed darkness

 Out into the frantic light of life,

Taken from the safety of the womb

 And an often dark and jarring strife.

*

The humble journey I began came

with incipient turmoil and doubt,   

subtle remorse and terrible guilt

That, with me, I carried about.

*

With youth behind I wore my badges

Of courage, deceit, and self-doubt.

Tasting the beguiling fruits of Eden

And sipping from the Bacchus spout.

*

My Odyssey was not without the

Pain of guilt and sincere remorse.

Oh, no! My mind’s black closet

Choked and stifled me in due course.

*

Then came a forgotten Deity Who

Brought me to my misguided sense,

Gave me another chance at Faith,

And bade new Love to commence.

*

So, here, in the quietness of this

Meadow green, I vow to schemes

Of Worship those worthy paeans

Of Soul on these acres of dreams.

 

©Billy Ray Chitwood – April 18, 2017

 

Please visit my Website, preview my books of mystery, suspense, thriller, romance, history, memoir, read some book reviews and comments by the author. https://billyraychitwood.com

 

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Meet Lady Gray

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Meet ‘Lady Gray’

           Our beloved Bengal cat, George, left us for animal heaven some months back after a twelve-year love affair. It was a sad and traumatic moment for Julie and me…we buried George under some trees on our property, and, each morning, we look out the kitchen window at his burial spot and say, “Hello, George, we love you.”

          As though George’s spirit reminds us of our time together in some peculiar ways, he finally put an exclamation point on it all…

          Before George passed away, a small gray and white kitten came several times to our house and looked through the windows. It seemed obvious to us that the two transferred some mutual affection. George was a declawed, neutered house cat and could not go outside so the two enjoyed and passed their furry feelings via empty space.

          After George died, the gray and white kitten came often to our kitchen door. Julie gave her some turkey bits, steak leftovers, and, finally included on her shopping list some cat food and treats. Julie left each food serving just outside the door.

          At some point, with soft coaxing, the kitten timidly entered the house, but left after a brief stay. Julie and I had different views on the kitten. Julie was sure the kitten had a home nearby, and we could not just arbitrarily adopt the cat…plus, Julie was still at an emotional level over George and did not think she wanted another animal pet. I took an opposite view: I didn’t think the kitten had a nearby home and genuinely felt she wanted our home as her home. Of course, we both were likely right – maybe she had a home but was cast aside…and, there were stray cats around 

          As days and weeks passed, the kitten continued her daily visits, and, with each visit, lingered around our property, came into the house on occasion and stayed a bit longer each time before Julie put her outside. Julie was also worried about the kitten having fleas or other ailments, likely having been abandoned either by her previous owners or simply had survived in the wild.

          The young cat was accompanied on occasion by a larger black and white male cat. It was apparent that the gray and white female held dominance over the bigger male, not sharing her food with him, and giving us reason to believe the female was in season.

          Julie and I had e-mailed and called neighbors to find out if they knew to whom the kitten belonged. We got no helpful information. In the meantime, there was concern that we were feeding ‘gray and white’ too much food because the cat was developing quite a girth…and, sure, we considered the fact she could be in a gestation period.

          Finally, there came the day when ‘gray and white’ entered the house and did not want to leave. It was during this time that Julie and I came together in our decision to keep the lovely feline. Her personality was so lovingly tender and timid. We would open the door for her to leave, and she would back away. In short, we fell in love with the little critter…bloated tummy and all – we felt the big tummy could be from all the food Julie was feeding her.

          We are picking her up today at 1:00 PM from the Vet Hospital, where she has been spayed, wormed, and inoculated to boost immunity. The Vet tells us ‘Lady Gray’ is likely one-year old or thereabouts.

          Julie and I are excited about having this little beauty in our lives…

          We consider ‘Lady Gray’ a gift from God…

 

Billy Ray Chitwood – March 30, 2017

 

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So, Tis An Author You Wish To Be

So, Tis An Author You Wish To Be

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So, Tis An Author You Wish To Be!

So, tis an author

You wish to be!

And, why, I ask,

Do you come to me?

Because, I write so

Much, you say,

So many pretty lines

Throughout the day.

True, it is my passion;

It must be so for you.

                         Yet, with fervent zeal,                        

Words at times flow few,

Bringing fitful malaise,

Wasteful lingering doubt,

 A brain inactive and dull,

And depressing flameout.

I mean not to dampen

Your dream of writing

But there are few who

Will find it requiting.

Then, if you are like me

And write for the soul,

No matter the repulsive foe,

You have ultimate control.

©Billy Ray Chitwood – March 24, 2017

Please visit my Website, preview my 14 books, read some reviews and author comments:

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A New Destiny

Washington DC Prepares For Presidential Inauguration

A New Destiny

     On Friday, January 20, 2017, the United States writes the first chapter in its new destiny – what should be the peaceful transition of National power, the swearing-in of a new president, Donald J. Trump.

    With this inauguration, America ushers in a new destiny with a man who defies all the odds to become our Commander-in-Chief. Donald Trump at this point in our history is a ubiquitous figure throughout the world, and people of different persuasions are busy weighing in with their appraising thoughts.

    Some in our Democracy believe, or, know, that, once in the White House, then President Trump will challenge the long-standing status quo and bring about changes that will damage the national and global profile of our great country, that he will bring changes to our entitlement programs that will harm the elderly, the poor, and the needy, that his total lack of political experience will bring chaos and a national deficit which will devastate our economy, that he is too brash and self-centered to have the high privilege of serving in this high office.  

    Some in our Democracy believe, or, know, that then President Trump is truly going to make ‘America Great Again’, altering our political landscape by eliminating stifling regulations, lowering taxes, growing jobs, getting immigration under control, building up our military, changing and/or localizing our education system, giving parents more possibilities for their children to better learn at the skill levels that fit and are important to them, helping the elderly and poor handle their health needs, introducing new health plans that are more affordable, and to halt the terrible tide of terrorism in all its forms.

    You can choose your side…some of you likely know where I land between the two above suggested scenarios, and that goes along with our Democracy’s freedom of expression.

    Personally, I would hope we could all embrace the time-honored tradition of a peaceful transition. After all, it is not the president we honor on inauguration so much as it is the process – a democracy changing its governance, dictated by the will of the people.

    Some people still wish to talk about the ‘popular vote’ being the best way for choosing a president in lieu of the ‘electoral college’.

    It is hard for me to remain silent on this issue. The states of New York, California, and Illinois will generally supply enough liberal votes to elect their preference under this system. What about the other states – the heartland, those people who work our fields for food, laborers who lay the brick and mortar for our buildings, the folks who would be forgotten in a ‘popular vote’ democracy…that would mean just a few states would decide our elections. I’m not saying the states mentioned who want the ‘popular vote system’ do not have these people. These states do have the ‘crop producers’ and ‘skilled laborers’, but, they are traditionally outnumbered by the liberal left. It just seems to me an unfair system when we make the votes of so many in other states meaningless.

    Okay, I’m just one voice speaking up for a peaceful transition of power on inauguration day… Tomorrow! You have your ‘free speech’ and ‘assembly’ rights. It is my fervent hope and prayer that all is peaceful on this day of our time-honored traditional transfer of power. That is what our great Democracy and Freedom is all about, what our founding fathers intended, and what so many of our brave patriots have fought and died in wars to protect.

Billy Ray Chitwood – January 19, 2017

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‘The Way We Were’ – Then and/or Now

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The Way We Were – Then or Now

 We awake in the cave, our minds blurred by realities of living.

 Moira goes deeper into the cave to bathe.

 Somehow, we have ended up here above the land we now see through the opening of the only home Moira and I have ever known. We eat certain vegetation, sweetly sour berries, and meat from the kills of our crude weapons. Over time we have developed a language that allows us to communicate with each other.

 Who are we? What are we? What is our purpose? Are we creations of some bewildering fate that allows us the awareness of thought? We can think and therefore we exist. There must be more than the hunt, the kill, the cave in which we live.

 What of this thing I hold in my hand, heavy and gouged by the passing of time? How is it I know to call it a rock? I throw the rock into the wall of the cave and it bounces here and there, finally landing not far from the great opening.

 Moira’s question breaks into my thoughts.

 “Why do you throw the rock, Meito?”

 Without looking at Moira, I fumble with the dirt and pebbles on the ground where I kneel, I respond. “I throw the rock because of my confusion and our way of living…the rock has thickness, weight, and no feelings. Why can’t we be like the rock?”

 Moira stands a few feet away from me. She has just come from the cleansing water pit deep in the cave, her long black hair wet and stringy. Her pretty face and deep brown eyes show innocence and purity. The meager animal skin she wears clings to her body and does little to hide the sensual fullness of her youth.

 “Because the rock has little function,” Moira answers. “Because the rock has no feeling, cannot hunt, kill, and show love. Meito, we have this same conversation so often. This is where we are and must accept our destiny. We have made our lives better than when we met some years ago, hopeless and lost in this wild mountainside. We will go on and trust in our love. I believe there is some spirit power that will guide us to where it is we are going.”

 As I stand, a smile appears on Moira’s face and her eyes sparkle with an unfathomable certainty. She sees my heavy brown beard part and show its own smile. I go to her, and we embrace.

 “You always lift me out of my depression. We will let life happen as it is destined to happen. The people we see hiding behind trees, fleeing from us – as we flee from them – maybe, one day, we can unite and get out of the caves… You are beautiful, sweet Moira, and your love is enough for me.”

 We soon leave the cave for our hunt.

 It is a beautiful day on the mountain.

 Flash Fiction by:

 Billy Ray Chitwood – January 1, 2017

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Preview my 14 books, some reviews, some blogs, and some author comments.

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