Stories that hone in on interpersonal relationships and the impact that shapes one's well being and consciousness.
Stories that hone in on interpersonal relationships and the impact that shapes one's well being and consciousness.
Border Crossing - Ariel's Journey a trilogy
Miami March 26th 2025 - The Hyatt Regency - Downtown Miami along the
Miami River.
There she was, Ariel the bionic chef, serving her creations of seafood hors
d’oeuvre to a yacht full of Cuban party goers celebrating some kind of Mardi-
Gras. They came through the lobby of the Hyatt, so scantily clad that they
might have well just been nude. A week long cooking stint, serving seafood
creations for this party boat yacht, full of loud music, booze, and pleasure. inspiredbookwriters@yahoo.com
Many in Body, One in Mind - Ariel's Journey a trilogy
Ariel - I am not sure what my biological mother expected, I lived with her and even cared for her these last fifteen years. Hell, she abandoned me at birth, and she knew what I had endured during a lifetime of suffering. Fostered, a runaway living on the streets, eventually being taken in by a sweet couple who had to become fugitives because of me. My harrowing experiences crossing the border to find her, my biological mother, she knew all the stories I told her, and she knew my erratic condition of high anxiety. She experienced my irrational thinking, and depression. Now I must get the calm courage to tell her of my departure so that I can fulfill what I think is my purpose and destiny.
Angels of Light - Ariel's Journey a trilogy
She was on her way, leaving the company of her new found family.
Desperately hoping to find him, the figure of the one legged man entwined
with the one armed woman. She held the bronze sculpture, tightly. The
Harvest Moon, orange, high in the night sky, lighting her way to his village.
He was waiting for her, sipping hot tea seated along the wall of the meat
house. He knew she would show up, he too was desperate for their
relationship to evolve into something more than what it already was.
There was the glow of a fire, high up on the edge of the bluff where the
wickiup contained the Apache lovers who dedicated their love to concentrate
the love of Ariel and Farhad, this Harvest Moon night.
The Sharing - a short story
Dartmouth 2023
She came to speak at an event with the promise of enlightenment. When she left, the
college and most of us that attended had a buzz of excitement cursing through our
being. This small statured woman from India, with a large charisma and a simple
message, the Guru, said that there are only two states. You are either suffering or you
are not suffering. That’s when I realized that for many years of living my life filled with
none ending desires had me trapped in a suffering state.
The Silent Retreat - a short novella
He is sitting on his special rock, waiting for nothing to happen. Waiting to silence his constantly active mind. Currently he is questioning his self inflicted exile from what? Loneliness? Max takes four or five deep breaths and stills his mind just enough to hear the babbling brook running below his feet. He looks at the ten inch crevice of mud, rock, watercress and grassy banks. As he focuses on the water movement he comes out of his revere just as he was getting lost in the moment. He suddenly turns and swivels his body away from the brook and towards the treed ridge. He senses something, it feels like he is being watched but by who or what. In his state of fear he is wondering, where are they coming from? inspiredbookwriters@yahoo.com
Up Until Now - a short story
“Some choices we make for ourselves in life. And some we make for other people.
Not because we don’t love them, but because we do. The only way we know it’s
right is if it lets us stay true to ourselves. But we can’t regret our choices.”
From The Secret Diary of a Call Girl - by Belle de Jour
What The Seashore Left Behind - a short novella
“Susie, that is not why I am here,” he is looking at the pile of photos,
“what’s going on?”
Susie looks at Jesse, then at the photos. “Okay, thanks for checking in
with me.” She sits back down on the floor in front of the photos. “Have
a seat. You are about to find out about who I was and whom I have
become.”
She hands Jesse an old, faded photo that’s yellowed, with a man in
military fatigues. He has a submachine gun and belts of bullets
crisscrossed over the heart of his chest.
Purgatory - a short story
I look over at Asaad as we sit under the “Tree of Forgiveness”. It’s the
only tree in the yard. All of the other trees are on the other side of the
guarded wall. I call it the wailing wall, because where I live I will
never get a chance to pray for redemption, at the Wailing Wall. Asaad
is Arab, the same as the young man who soiled my daughter. I shot him
in the back as he ran from my house. It’s not that I hate Arabs, it was
the fear that maybe my daughter should not associate with an Arab. inspiredbookwriters@yahoo.com
The Phantom Sky Thief - a short story
His plane rises out of the Black Sea and climbs the steep southern slopes of the Crimean
Mountains that drop into the sea. The Bbmoidaire Challenger 3500 rises effortlessly
over the plateau shaped peaks. The Sky Pilot destination tonight is Donbas where he will
steal a soul once occupied in the body of Bohdan Anastas whose heritage was that of
religious scholars who believed in resurrection.
When They Leave - a novella
It was back in 2022 that a major transition occurred in my life. I realized I was getting old.
At least older than many of the people I did business with, recreated with, drank with and laughed with.
“When They Leave”, is a personal inquiry of aging. It’s not just the generational differences
that has had an impact. It’s what I felt culturally. What struck me when I thought of pursuing this topic was an Instagram message of how many older people are left behind in rural India as the children move out to pursue their life. Sound familiar? It happens globally, and each culture handles it differently. The Instagram message was to generate funding to feed the elderly.
The Journals from India - sequel to When They Leave
Harry - I never did answer Karan’s question, “will you watch sunrises with me Harry?” It was Saashini that said, “I will watch the sunrise with you.” The moment was one to relish, and yet I
was in fear of relationship. I had embraced Karan as a dear young friend, and I was enthralled with his mother Saashini. My fear was how the future might be if I were to pursue a deeper relationship with Saashini that included romance.
Journey of Love series - A novel in six parts - Part 1
Stephanie has shoulder length hair. Dark blonde with some long strands
cascading over her shoulders. She is pretty, not glamorous, but intriguing. I
wondered what inspires someone to model, in public. Same as Frank, she is
staring at something. Stephanie has one leg propped up on a stool, half sitting.
Like Frank, she is well proportioned. As I look at both of them I am
observing body posture and imagining how courageous it is to bare oneself. inspiredbookwriters@yahoo.com
Journey of Love series - A novel in six parts - Part 2
The near death experience was a personal glimpse of my desire for wisdom beyond all effluvia of my mortal thought. I felt my soul asking for the Divine Grace that it deserves. I battled with my past, what I thought was good, what I knew was not honorable and what had become ugly. And then I surrendered to an outcome, out of gratitude I asked for forgiveness. And I felt the hand of the great Creator of all things, bless me.
Journey of Love series - A novel in six parts - Part 3
Yesterday, I skied. Traversing into the wooded area where the wind blew
the snow, there was no wind. I meandered and bush whacked my way
through the understory of the tall pines and firs. I looked up through an
opening at the crest of the ridge and realized I had arrived at the best
place to emerge from the cocoon of the forest into the howling wind. inspiredbookwriters@yahoo.com
Journey of Love series - A novel in six parts - Part 4
We are seated at the small table in the pioneer cabin where it all started a second time for Julian and I. The fire has warmed the cabin, food has been eaten hours ago. We ate in
silence. It was hard to look at each other. So many memories and thoughts. So much love bursting in this little cabin. The energy wanting to blow out the walls. Wanting to escape the
moment. I felt it, she felt it.
Journey of Love series - A novel in six parts - Part 5
I willed her to agree letting me do my first trek of the season into the high country. There are
several areas I have skied up there late season, and sometimes early season. A week earlier we had hiked up there late October and got snowed on. By the time we hiked down there was about ten inches of snow before it let up. Since then this early winter was shaping up to be a good one, if you are a skier. The drive alone is an adventure, and Julian has become
leery of my solo sojourns. Especially after last year in the Big Horns when I went to find the Medicine Man and our mentor Joseph. There was that dang little slide, deep enough to bury us.
Journey of Love series - A novel in six parts - Part 6
There he is, Joseph, his long grey and black hair in a braid. He is wearing a beat up
Florida Marlins ball cap. His shirt is a Jimmy Buffet tropical design. He has kaki pants with
a breach clothe covering his lower extremities. Joseph is holding his hiking stick.
He has his customary peace pipe and tobacco bag slung over his right shoulder. Nirvana
and I have no trouble finding him in the Miami Airport. inspiredbookwriters@yahoo.com
The Final Version - a summary of the short stories and novel
There was a time, at the Satva campus of Ekam in India, when several of us Sanghamitras’ (Sanskrit for “friend of the community”) were gathered and had an audience with Krishnaji (our beloved Guru). After much discussion of the work we were involved with…doing service for the community, he asked what we’d like help with, what was our aspiration and I said, “to talk to pure consciousness.” I have no idea why I said that at the time. Other people received a blessing, what I received was his comment, “then talk to pure consciousness.” He dismissively looked away, briefly, then Krishnaji proceeded to make a comment about my desire. I do not recall at this time what it was he said, I do recall it was profound to me. Prior to be a Snaghamitra one had to complete Tapas (the third leg of A Journey of Love series) and Maha Tapas. Those journeys were all about overcoming (at least understanding) how our ego, mind, craving, duality, and illusion impacted our being. Unbeknownst to me at the time in Hinduism pure consciousness is formless, the brain is not involved, it is void of reaction to thoughts. Right now on this day, (8/7/26) I realized the meaning of Sat-chit-Anada. The Atman, our individual soul, and the Brahman, the ultimate cosmic reality are connected as consciousness.
Synchronistic as it is, a small book appeared on the kitchen table where I am typing these messages. In the book ‘The Faithful Gardener’ by Clarissa Pinkola Estes, Ph. D. is a short story that I happened to just open to.”That Which Can Never Die”. It is about a young fir tree that wishes to be taken, someday, for a Christmas Tree. As the forest is cut down every winter during the Christmas season, it hopes to grow to the right height to be taken. Eventually it is cut down, taken with great care and becomes the integral part of the family celebration. Until one day it is stripped of it’s decorations and unceremoniously dragged upstairs and stored in a dark, cold attic. It yearns to be useful again, and be part of the family. One day, it is taken outdoors, and is elated to feel the snow again. Suddenly it feels the pain as it’s limbs and trunk are severed. Then all it’s pieces are stored inside near the hearth. And it relishes the warmth it feels of the older couple sitting by the fire. It feels the burning as it felt the pain of the axe, yet it feels good to be useful. And when it’s ashes are gently shoved out of the fire place and stored into a bag. At that moment it was grateful for what it’s life has been. In the spring the ashes were mixed into the garden soil where roots and shoots started to rise out of the earth. The fir tree is witness to all of this, and it feels fortunate to have been of service. “Ah,” sighed the fir tree, “of all that rises and falls again, it is love of new life, and love of that alone, that lasts and lasts. I am everywhere now. See how far my reach?”
The Spirit of Collaboration (sample) find it on Amazon
"The smaller scale WWOOF farm will certainly give you the authenticity you crave. If
you obtain a volunteer gig at these sorts of farms, you will literally be able to fully
consume yourself in a culture. You will be living with a host family, and get to fully
immerse yourself in their history, language, food and overall way of life, the way they
see life. Very impactful stuff. I couldn’t imagine a more thorough way to experience
another way of life. A large amount of reviews I’ve read and people I’ve met have
WWOOFed on smaller farms and much prefer the experience, as it is deeper and
more profound.” Nomad nation , blog
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