Destiny’s Children

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A person often meets his destiny on the road he took to avoid it.
–Jean de la Fontaine

Labor Day. To me, this holiday invokes the concept of destiny – boy, that’s a loaded word.
Everyone, raise your hands – how many of you feel that the job/profession at which you labor is an answer to the call of destiny? You were born to work forty plus hours a week at the assigned tasks for this job. Yes? Maybe? No? How many posses the courage to ask this question of themselves? If you’re brutally honest with yourself, your answer could be a game-changer in your life. Does your life’s work strum across the chords of your heart with the answer of – Yes! This is what I’m meant to do.
Uh-oh. No? You work to pay your bills, feed and house you and yours, purchase the things you feel you need in your life to make you “happy” or “fulfilled”, fund your recreational activities that you squeeze into the bit of off-time you can grab. Do many people think about their destiny? So many distractions thwart us from asking the right questions about our life’s purpose: technology, social media, entertainment from all sides, the needs of family and friends, ad nauseum.
As an author of teen novels, destiny is a major theme for my two-book series, The Rebel’s Duet. In a one-two punch strategy, Rebels from Olympus presents the concept of identity; The Rebel’s Call follows up with purpose. My teen protagonist, Justus Appleyard, is told that he is the son of a Roman god and a mortal mother – identity. His destiny is divulged in the first novel, and after a tragic misfortune and some bad news, Justus decides in the second novel to dismantle the bomb of his presumed destiny and do absolutely nothing about it. He was going to drift through life and stay out of everyone’s way lest he ruin more lives. Destiny has other plans for Justus.
Are today’s youth mindful of destiny as they consider their futures? Perhaps, especially if they are being raised by mindful parents who urge their children to follow their hearts when considering their life’s path. It doesn’t have to be referred to as destiny. Also, answering destiny’s call may be a part of a spiritual or religious teaching.
Then there are many who are being brought up in a materialistic way – to go for the big bucks, the prestige of a professional title. Yes, it can be someone’s destiny, too. We can’t judge. But, are they fulfilling some deep calling urge from within? They have to figure it out for themselves.
This is not meant as a high-brow approach to what is destiny. Of course, there are scads of material out there written by philosophers, poets, theologists, playwrights, novelists. Mine is practical and down home. Destiny is working with your given talents, whether as a vocation or an avocation, which make you thrive rather than survive. This Labor Day, consider what difference would it make in the fabric of this world if we all whistled with joy while we worked.

Sacred Sanctuaries

img_1093As above, so below
– traditionally attributed to the Emerald Tablets of Hermes Trismegistus

My first impression, after the initial shock of the recent burning of the Cathedral of Notre Dame in France, was that of Quasimodo, in the 1939 film version of The Hunchback of Notre Dame, proclaiming “Sanctuary! Sanctuary!” as he displayed his precious Esmeralda in his arms while standing on a cathedral balcony. He had just swung down to rescue the gypsy girl from being hanged as a witch (

Sanctuary! I feel that we all should be proclaiming this sacred place for ourselves as we rescue and protect that wild and soulful gypsy-like part of ourselves from the crazy, chaotic war of worlds that rages at us from all sides. This kernel of self is delicate, precious and needs to be cherished – or else it will fold in upon itself, shrivel and, if not die, go to a place so hidden that we may not be able to recover if we aren’t careful. This is the core of being that keeps us human so that we may respond to life with love, creativity and compassion.

What is a sanctuary? I found several definitions: a sacred place, such as a church, temple, or mosque; the condition of being protected or comforted; immunity to arrest; a place of refuge or asylum. I see it as a space within our homes which we can claim and proclaim that this is a holy space where we can breathe, meditate, contemplate, review, dream, create, vision and envision with that scared self that needs attention, but which we so often neglect.

Your sanctuary can be as simple as a chair in a quiet corner of your home – away from any form of interrupting media. Turn your phone off, too. This could be a bedroom, the basement, a closet, a hallway. Be creative as you look for that quiet space which exists somewhere in your home. How about an extra chair in the bathroom? Even the ritual of bath-taking can create sanctuary. Mine is a comfy chair, ottoman and small table in a corner of the living room.

If you can, outfit your spot with soulful comforts: a candle, pictures, crystals, a plant, a journal to write down thoughts. If space won’t allow, a place to sit is enough.
My outdoor sanctuary is the swing shown in the above photo. I have a city yard, but I make the best of it.

Be a little selfish with time to visit your sanctuary. If you have to make a date with yourself to parcel out that fifteen or twenty minutes with sacred self, that’s what you commit to do.

Your sanctuary is where you pull down bits and pieces of heaven into your own sacred self and make it your own. It’s your divine inspiration. Your heavenly breath.
Be bold and brave in claiming your sanctuary. Maybe, like Quasimodo, it’s time for you to go on a rescue mission.


Awakening the Seeker

A dream I had from many years ago was the inspiration for my teen two-book fantasy series, The Rebels Duet. In the dream, there was a family of alien humanoid people traveling on a spaceship to earth. The family was composed of a mother and many children (in my novel, I honed the number down to two), all with alabaster-white skin and white hair. They were coming to our planet to help and wake up the inhabitants. It was just a snippet of a dream. My imagination took off with it, transforming the aliens into Roman gods and goddesses,  and without any intention to write a teen novel, I began plotting the story and creating characters who took on lives of their own.

I knew it would be a two-book series. I had been taught in writing workshops that to capture the essence of a novel, even before a word is written, was to come up with one word that captures the heart, the essence of your story. The one-word description of Rebels from Olympus was identity. My second novel, The Rebel’s Call, was purpose. That captures the essence of the teenaged years.

Teenagers are Seekers by nature. Trying on different personas, experiences, to experiment with who they want to be when they grow up. However, in my series, I add in the spiritual dimension to the Seeker of identity and purpose. Many kids are being raised in a spiritual void – parents are either just not interested, too busy, too overloaded with keeping up with the hottest trends and tech. Who has time to invest in the spiritual? It probably doesn’t exist.

Let me be clear here – I don’t identify with any religion or spiritual practice in my series. My scope is so wide that I also include extra terrestrial beings, Roman gods and goddesses, a Hindu state of being embodied in an avatar, disgruntled nature spirits, angels and others as helpers to the human race. I speak of a Creator, the One Great God, but the rest is left up to the reader. The plot inspires my protagonist, Justus Appleyard, to investigate his inner urge of just what all of this spiritual hoopla is and how does it fit into life. There are many questions – appropriately so for the Seeker.

Partway through Rebels from Olympus, Justus learns that he is a demi-god. His mother had unknowingly married Mars, the Roman God of War, which then produced first Justus and then his sister, Rosa, three years later. What does a kid do with that kind of information? Especially once he’s told that he had a specific destiny to fulfill in his future. He’s just a skinny, too-tall kid who’s angry at the world, including his mother, and especially his father, who abandoned the family when Justus was three, as well as most of the people in his life. Talk about an identity crisis, especially when he notices that his body was beginning to express signs of physical superpowers of strength and speed. Holy crap!

In The Rebel’s Call, three years after the events in Rebels from Olympus, Justus puzzles over how the spiritual fits into his life. He sorts through his questions in conversations with his mother and his paternal grandmother, Juno, the Queen of the Gods. Does he come to conclusions? Let’s leave it to say that the Seeker within him is wide awake and ready to explore how life answers his questions.

The Rebels Duet series is filled with high adventure as Justus and Rosa encounter evil while it schemes to rob the individual of unique talents, potential and even destiny.






Available 5/3/19!

The Rebels’ Call synopsis9




In this sequel to Rebels from Olympus, to Justus Appleyard, as the half-divine son of Mars, the God of War, it was not all about flying horses and stately goddesses eating chocolates. Destiny. That was what stumbled Justus to give up on everything: his Captain Fortis comic book series, working out, school work, making friends. It was Rosa’s destiny, his sister, to die a young death according to a prediction made by his centaur mentor, Chiron. A comet in the sky. A quick flash of fame and then a sputtering dud of ashes. Kaput. You can shove this destiny thing where the sun doesn’t shine.Justus’ nagging guilt over Madeline’s sad, dark life due to the spell of the Shades of Deception never eased its grip on him. She was the girl of his dreams, and it was all his fault for her ruined existence.

Worry and guilt kidnapped his life.

Three years after the destruction of Indian Lake, Justus is now eighteen and about to graduate from high school. His scheme was to live the life of a drop-out and travel the world. No destiny to fulfill; no plans to be made. He had promised his mother one year of college, and if he decided it wasn’t for him, he would be free to go . . . wherever. It was a small miracle that he was accepted into Mars City College due to his dismal grades, but thanks to an experimental program the college was holding the first semester, his application was accepted.

One day in late May, Rosa is almost run over by a stranger riding a motorcycle. Was it her time to die? Not yet, but the motorcyclist, Mike, in a later encounter with Justus, offers him a summer job at his new motorcycle boutique to repair and restore classic and antique bikes.

An encouraged horizon dawns for Justus. He finds purpose and pleasure in working with his hands on the motorcycles; he makes a new friend and Rosa finds a possible love interest. But, as college approaches, Justus is deceived by a dangerous evil force. Will he succumb? Or, will he answer the rebel’s call?

Rebellious Love

Xmas heart wreath
We are a culture that likes to hold a grudge. Not everyone, of course, but there is a vast majority who thrive on “an eye for an eye” mindset and will go to great lengths to ensure that a wrong is righted.

To be rebellious, one acts in or shows opposition or disobedience to some accepted way of being. Here I am referring to social mores, customs, opinions, even religious beliefs. Most people wouldn’t blame someone for acting out of resentment for some wrong done to them.

Compare the struggle between right and wrong, good and evil even, to a game of tug of war. Each side struggles in the name of their perception of what’s fair. What if . . . one person, in a moment of clarity and love, sees the battle as unnecessary and views the opponent enveloped in a halo of love. What a rebellious change of thought. He releases the rope. In the letting go, the supposed opponent falls backwards as the tension dissolves. What happens to the opponent? He may trudge off in a huff of anger. Or, maybe, a change, an epiphany, a paradigm shift of what just happened. Maybe this rebellious act of love might stretch the heart muscle a bit to experience forgiveness, tolerance, acceptance, kindness – and yes, especially love.

Pittsburgh, Pa, October 27, 2018. Ari Mahler, a Jewish nurse at Allegheny General Hospital, acted upon love as he treated Robert Bowers, the injured murderer of eleven Jews as they worshipped at The Tree of Life Synagogue.

“Love. That’s why I did it … Love as an action is more powerful than words, and love in the face of evil gives others hope,” Mahler wrote. “. . . If my actions mean anything, love means everything.”

Nickel Mines, PA, October 2, 2006. Charles Roberts storms into a one-room schoolhouse and shoots ten young Amish girls, killing five of them. What was the rebellious act of love that transformed this abominable, unforgivable crime? Love and forgiveness. The Amish community publicly forgave the killer, donated money to the murderer’s widow and children and many even attended his funeral. These selfless acts of love stunned the outside world.

Jerusalem, circa 33 A.D. Whether you regard Jesus as a teacher, historical figure or the messiah, he spoke of a new covenant with God. The vengeful, jealous God of the Old Testament is depicted by Jesus as a God of love. When asked what is the greatest commandment of the Law, his answer was to love God with all your heart, and the second was to love your neighbor as yourself. In the brutal and cruel world of Jesus’ time, what a rebellious thought it is to respond to life with love.

This holiday season and throughout the year, be a rebel and respond to life and all of its sometimes crazy madness with love. See the child of God, not the sinner. People will witness. Evolution might happen.

An Elemental Tune-Up

green man

I love to think of nature as an unlimited broadcasting station, through which God speaks to us.

— George Washington Carver

As we observe nature and appreciate its beauty and abundant gifts, nature is observing us back. A new-to-me bird showed up in my urban yard this past summer. I felt as though something was watching me. When I turned my head, my eyes met those of a bird who was scrutinizing me. It stayed a few seconds longer and flew away. I was seen by nature, I incredulously thought. After a few more encounters, I had noted enough of its physical details to identify it as a cedar waxwing. Fruit-eating birds, my two apple trees must be a favorite.

When we love nature, nature loves us back. As I attuned to these gentle waxwings, I shifted into the awareness of the elemental beings of nature and was reminded of how they have been mandated by God to love, care and work with humans. There are elemental beings which align and assist with each of our body’s natural processes of breath, metabolism, circulation and body function. Our bodies are made from the same elements of the earth —  air, earth, fire and water. Venture outside, rest in nature and connect with these devoted spirits to help you be at-one-ment with yourself and all of creation around you. It is a very subtle experience, more of a tune-up, but one which augments your own inner wisdom in a deep knowing of what is best for your body.

The four elements and the corresponding elemental beings:

  1. Water — undines

The steady flow of blood and fluids through our circulatory system, feeding our cells with food and oxygen.

2. Fire — salamanders

The body’s metabolism.

3. Air — sylphs

Assists with the breath.

4. Earth — gnomes, fairies, elves, pixies, wood nymphs

The components of bone, muscle, skin, organs, teeth, hair, nails.

There is no right or wrong way to balance, tune up, your body with the guidance of each elemental group. Follow your intuition on how to proceed. First, start with an opening prayer, request or affirmation, whatever your preference, for protection from any negative forces and wisdom in intuiting what needs your body requires. Thank the elementals for all the hard work they put into keeping you, as well as all of nature, in a state of balanced harmony. Ask the elementals to speak to you. It may be in words, but more frequently you will be given images, impressions on what your body may need.

For instance, do you feel as though the fire within you is burning out? Just as fire is a chemical reaction, metabolism can also refer to the sum of all chemical reactions that occur in a living organism. Is there something you can do to help? The subtle message from the salamanders may be more rest, more exercise, a certain type of food to add to your diet. Maybe a vacation?

A simple request for aid in physical well-being is enough, too. The elementals will work on you with their subtle energetic magic.

Relax and bask in the love nature has for you.


My Seamstress Mom – What a Character

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First, let me be clear – this is not an ad. This is the business card my mother and I designed when we started our own fabric/custom dressmaking/alteration shop back in 1984. It seems like a century ago.

My mom, Evelyn, was larger than life with a style all her own. As a girl, she went to the movies and watched all of the thirties and forties big screen stars dressed to the hilt in fabulous, well-designed clothing. She fell in love with fashion and sewing, which began a lifetime passion for both.  As her body developed in her teen-aged years, mom became too big-busted for most ready-to-wear styles, so she began to make most of her own clothing. In high school, she attended a trade school to learn seamstress skills.

For a number of years, while raising my brother and me, most of Mom’s sewing skills were used for the home and also making clothes for herself and me. I remember a darling summer top she had sewed for me made of red fabric printed with white anchors and trimmed with white fringe. I loved it!

Her first professional job was sewing costumes for a marching and drum corps in the early 1960’s. As a young child, I was in awe of the beautiful majorette outfits designed of soft blue satin with white marabou sewn around the flouncy short skirt and blue sequins on the bodice. She made puffy-sleeved satin shirts for the male drummers that rippled and shimmered in the sun as they struck their drums. For years later, she was still picking blue sequins out of the carpet in her sewing area.

When I was a little older, my mom worked as a seamstress in clothing alterations for a fashionable ladies’ clothing store in downtown Pittsburgh. There she learned that home sewing and the world of alterations on higher end women’s ready-to-wear were quite different. Her friend, who recommended her for the alterations job and was a saleswoman at the store as well as a seamstress, showed her many tricks of the trade in ladies’ clothing alterations. After working there for a few years, Mom moved on to work at a haute couture ladies’ clothing store. There, she learned more detailed alteration techniques from Italian seamstresses who were apprenticed in sewing while children growing up in Italy. Her knowledge and expertise at the trade knew no bounds.

Through all this time, as close to her as breath itself, she was always thinking about the next thing she wanted make for herself. Social events on her calendar prompted her to think, plan and design what outfit would be appropriate for the occasion. If a tailored suit was more fitting, she would make that. A wedding? Maybe a draped tea-length dress in silk jacquard. She always looked elegant.

After my brother passed away in 1982, Mom grieved and drifted through her days. It was a very dark time for my family. She had quit her job at the high-end dress shop and had no plan for what to do next. I approached her with the idea to open our own sewing shop – a mother and daughter business. We would sell high-end fabric, do dressmaking and alterations. I was working at a department store in the advertising office, but feeling very unsatisfied with my job as a copywriter. I loved to sew, too, and knew this would be the best thing for both of us. The idea filled her sails and breathed a new energy into her. We opened the doors to our shop and had no regrets.

We operated our business for eleven years, and closed its doors when my son was three years old. My mom wanted to slow down a bit and semi-retire to sew out of her home. She maintained her home-based business well into her late seventies. She loved her customers and loved the work, with a stash of fabric in her sewing room that was always waiting to be fashioned into something spectacular for herself. Whatever the event, she was ready!

My mom passed away nine years ago, and I have so many incredible memories of a spunky, creative woman who was always working on some sewing project. I try my best to live up to her memory by keeping busy with whatever feeds my passion.

Along with sewing, I have always loved writing fiction. Funny thing how my mom (in spirit) pulled a fast trick on me when I was developing a character. It happened when I was writing my very first teen novel.

When I wrote Rebels from Olympus, I created my protagonist, Justus Appleyard, from my imagination. While I did have a brother and had chosen to include a brother/sister relationship in my teen novel, Justus is different from my real-life brother. There were certain themes I wanted to convey in my novel, and my brother’s character traits were not a suitable choice for its crafting. No judgement of my brother. Justus needed to be a lonely, wimpy outcast in school. My brother was popular and played on the school football team. Not a good match for my plot. Even the relationship with his sister was different from what I had with my brother. In my story, Justus and Rosa are three years apart and are close companions, even though they do annoy each other. My brother was six years my senior, so I was more the kid sister at home while he was always out playing sports or hanging out with his buddies. Not only did I create a different character, it was a different relationship, too.

Then enter the character of Rosa, Justus’ sister. As I wrote the first draft of my novel, she was in many scenes, but always elusive to me. I wrote dialogue and action, but I kept asking her, “Who are you? I want a strong girl character, but you seem so limp and ineffective.” It wasn’t until I was working on the second draft that I began to hear this strong, sassy voice channel through me and onto the page.

I recognized the attitude. I saw what her super power as a demi-goddess would be. Sewing! Oh, this was going to be fun!

I asked humorously, “Mom? Who invited you?” Then, I recognized what a perfection this was to have parts of my mother come through to be a big part of my character, Rosa. Just like my mother, Rosa lived and breathed sewing and fashion design. She was spunky, assertive and creative. I loved writing this character! Both my mother and Rosa breathed, imagined,  planned for fashion. The ever-present thought in each mind was – “What will I wear?”

I can think of no better way to honor my mom’s memory.


Here’s a picture of my mom and me at a wedding. Yes, we both sewed our own dresses!

Agἀpe, Sweet Agἀpe



It’s what the world needs now. And . . . it is for everyone.
When you plug in the Greek word, “agápe”, in place of “love”, the popular song from the ’60’s takes on a truer meaning to the context of the lyrics. “What the World Needs Now is Love” transcends us to a higher, finer state of what love can be for us. The Greeks were insightful enough to give us more than one word for love. Agápe means the love of God for humanity, as well as humanity’s love for God. Unconditional. Powerful. Consuming. Creative. Infinite.

Without asking for it, I have experienced this great grace of agápe. When I wake up in the morning, occasionally there is this immeasurable comfort of great love waiting for me. I did nothing to deserve it. I had not offered a particular prayer, nor did I have any dreams. I embrace this love. It is a divine moment out of time and place. It fills me, washes over me, carries me into my day. I want to share this with everyone. I can’t speak of it – not really. I mentally gather up the love, and with open hands, blow it into every direction, just like a kiss.

I have found a touchpoint that links me into this higher state of grace. Nature. I sit on my back deck and watch the birds. When I focus on a particular bird, I open my heart to feel love for its “birdness”. Within the moment, my heart opens wide and the power of agápe fills me.

There are other means with which to fill yourself with agápe. First, you must release negativity and calm the monkey-chatter part of your mind. Make room for God’s love. Also be willing to receive the love. Say a prayer. A mantra. A poem. Meditate. Sing a spiritual song. Focus on nature or a loved one’s face. There are so many ways.

December, with the start of winter, is the high time of agápe. If only we could slow down and tap into the agápe that is a bit heightened in its accessibility this time of year. Turn the pace down on the shopping, the parties, the technology, the busy-ness. Take time for the stillness and go inside your heart and tap into the quiet place where God resides. It doesn’t matter what religion you celebrate, or don’t. God only wants you to know how deeply, divinely, unconditionally you are loved.


Many religions celebrate important holy days that can help us find the light and love within each of us in this darkest of months. Here are a few examples:
For the pagans — it’s the return of the sun.
For the Christians — it’s the birth of the son.
For the Jewish faith — it’s the endurance of the light of Hanukkah.
For Buddhists — it’s the Buddha’s Day of Enlightenment, also known as Bodhi Day.

Love can change the world. By practicing the presence of divine love within ourselves, we can become ambassadors of agápe.





Fear Not


Summer is winding down. Autumn approaches with its downward tug, pulling us by the ankles from our lofty, summery dreams. We’ve been recreating. The sun has drawn us out of ourselves and up into the heady feel of Nature in its fullness. Now, the shadows grow longer and the weight of responsibility draws us back to ourselves. It’s back to school or college for children and young adults. We all begin to turn our attention to preparing our homes and cars for winter. There’s a feeling of “back to work” for us all.
As the earth travels through the seasons, it also moves through the seven chakras, ending with the red root chakra at Christmas. Autumn is the beginning, for those of us living in the northern hemisphere, of living with the orange chakra. Creativity. Sexuality. Emotions and relationships. What have we harvested as fall approaches? On a primal level, even though we no longer live in an agrarian society, have we harvested (or created) enough to make it through the winter? Will it be a difficult time of lack and hardship? We can feel the energies of the seventh chakra, the root, start to bleed in with thoughts of approaching dark nights and bitter cold. Fear’s icy fingers begin to tighten its grip on our thoughts, even though we may not see it’s affect as a primal force.
Fear can be crippling. It is the impetus for so much of the negativity that rules our lives.
There is help at the end of September to battle our encroaching fears. Can you hear the rousing cavalry call of the approaching warrior? Archangel Michael. Michaelmas, celebrated on September 29th, is a mostly Western European Christian tradition that some also recognize in the United States. St. Michael, along with Uriel and Gabriel, are honored in a feast day on the Catholic calendar. Waldorf school students play challenging games in “The Festival of Courage” in honor of Michael’s bravery. Stories of Saint George battling the dragon are told to fortify their spirits.
Michael is the Archangel who overcomes Satan and darkness. He places his foot upon the head of Satan while he brandishes his sword, encouraging us all to take up the sword of our wills and face the fears that plague us. Once we do so, we see that those overwhelming fears are not so big and bad, and they shrink into mere shadows. Can we see them for what they are? Can we integrate these now small fears back into the light?
Embrace the warrior spirit of Michael. He, as well as the whole hierarchy of angels, are here to help. Talk to them – out loud even. Make clear what it is you need, what fears you have, what your heartfelt desires are.
Then, on the darkest winter night, when we are deep in the throws of our red primal chakra, a new light is born unto the world. Another angelic voice begins its proclamation with, “Fear not!”




Plato’s Cave (version 2.0)

Did Plato write his “The Allegory of the Cave” while gazing in a crystal ball that foretold the future? How like a TV screen the cave wall seems in the above picture. Did the great philosopher have an inkling that modern man had the potential to become even more enslaved by projected images? If he wrote a current updated version of the allegory there would be no need of prisoners. After continued and increased  exposure to entertainment century after century,  we’re all easily held captive by the drama of adventure, love, suspense, horror, comedy, gossip projected on our screens. Ours is a more perfected, insidious version of Plato’s cave.

I barely remember the whirl of names and schools of thought when we studied the ancient Greek philosophers in high school.  But then? Plato’s Cave happened. That made me sit up and pay attention. It intrigued me like a mystery novel. Bound prisoners are forced to watch shadow images projected on the cave wall in front of them. These images are created by concealed puppeteers who parade large puppets behind a bridge. A fire behind the puppets is what projects the shadows on the wall. This puppet show is the prisoners’ only narrow sense of reality.

One of the prisoners escapes and crawls up a tunnel and enters into the true light of day. He’s astounded by what he sees – the sun, grass, trees, animals – nothing is like what he experienced in the shadows of the cave. He must go back and tell the others. Upon his return, he tries to explain what he saw, but no one wants to listen and go with him to see his new wonders. In the cave, they feel safe and unchallenged. Why stir things up?

The questions I had. How and why were these prisoners held? What type of puppets were projected? Most importantly, who were the puppeteers hidden behind the bridge? What was their motivation? How were they slanting their version of reality for the prisoners?

“The Allegory of the Cave” was written by Plato in a body of work titled Republic (512 a.d. – 520 a.d.). It was written as a dialogue between Plato’s brother, Glaucon, and his mentor, Socrates, who was also the narrator of the conversation. The cave allegory was to show the effect of education and the lack of it in human nature. Interesting.

It’s not difficult to make contemporary comparisons with this allegory. One can start watching a movie on the home television, continue viewing on a cell phone or tablet while traveling, and finish up on a laptop. We love watching these projected shadows.

The truth is neglected. For example, modern cave dwellers are not concerned about how that certain politician is going to vote on an issue. They think, ‘Let him or her do the work for me as the shadows on the wall make life easy-peasy. ‘

It’s time to climb out of the dark cave together. We must question. Where is the Illusion? Where is the Delusion? Where is the Collusion?




Rebels from Olympus by Sandy Milczarek

Release date November 21, 2015

Ever since three rebellious gods moved in next door, life has never been the same for Justus. His mom plays Twister with a goddess. He gets his first kiss with the secret love of his life. His evil step-grandmother tries to kill him.

Rebels from Olympus by Sandy Milczarek | BookShop
Identity can be a killer in this Young Adult fantasy thriller. Destiny calls.…
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