Seasons Most Mysterious

Dear reader, Once in the land of Narnia there were trees that would come alive. They danced and sang with dwarves and fawns and embodied the magic beyond the wardrobe. But in the dark age of Narnia, the people became afraid of the trees and what might be among them. They let the woods grow up and warned their children to fear and stay away from the wildness of the forest. Soon the trees fell into a deep sleep, and all the other magical creatures of Narnia went into hiding. The country forgot the magic, and spent their time worrying about the everyday things of social status and politics and taxes. Only a few, who had dwarf blood flowing in their veins told stories of the days when trees and animals could talk. They never stopped looking for the magic, and for the day when the trees would come back to life, and when the great lion Aslan would come bursting in. In our world too, as we grow up, wildness is traded for the cautious mundane, the trees have fallen asleep, and we are all sea

Dear reader, A simple truth – there's nothing on this planet that can stay subdued. It seems the more we perfect human methods of breaking-in our earth, the more the untamed beauty – the wild spirit in the simple blue planet's belly – dies. Our earth. Perhaps, from time to time, we should ask ourselves if it is " our earth." Perhaps we should wonder what would happen if we allowed ourselves belong to it . Signed, Brooke Smoke Writer for Stardust Collective Confectioner's Glaze Sit down sometimes with me when I talk to the sky. Yesterday I talked about the cement under my bum. It was rough, too rough, and too perfect. See, that’s the problem with it. There’s those two things. Too rough. Too perfect. Too rough. Well this one is pretty simple, my bum hurt. Natural rocks are almost never that rough. Sure, certain patches of the rock might be rough, way rougher than the cement but this cement has no nice parts. It’s all rough all around. Can’t sit

I want to feel all there is to feel, he thought. Let me feel tired, now, let me feel tired. I mustn't forget, I'm alive, I know I'm alive, I mustn't forget it tonight or tomorrow or the day after that. ~ Dandelion Wine, chap 2 paragraph 79 Dear reader, That's Douglas from the book Dandelion Wine by Ray Bradbury. Douglas wrote in his dusty old book some genuine, virtuous words that reminded him that he was alive. He describes it as a wild beast that he let jump him, but also something he had to coax out of himself. It did not come willingly, but at the same time it was inevitable. The trees, the singing of the grasses and the birds, it let Douglas discover his own traveling bird . To me the poem below calls out for that bird, that beast that Douglas discovered. It is shy at first, it needs a little coaxing. Once you let it out though, you can't help noticing it, and then you miss it. The call to adventure grows more fat when we feed it. May the wings o

Dear reader, I’m writing this on a rainy Sunday evening. I slept in this morning, using yet another poor excuse (I’m still kind of getting over a cold?) to stay in bed rather than walk up half a mile to the local Baptist temple and sit alone in a cushioned pew and be glanced at by the kind, mainly elderly members, singing a few old hymns and listening to a simple preacher preach a short, honest sermon. Reading over this adaptation of a familiar psalm, I’m struck by how sweet and simple worship can be. The simple act of showing up and lifting up these ancient meditations – an offering, a clumsy imitation of the One Who Returns. Even better – the One Who Stays. The repetition in this psalm is not a perfect mirror image of the permanence of our God, but it is a moving representation nonetheless. I offer now these psalms to you, adapted by one of our resident writers, Elijah Fry. May you be filled with the knowledge, as you read these, that our Lord indeed is steadfast, and His Love en

Dear reader, You may have noticed that the writers of this blog go by the terms Newsie, Irwin, or Fictional when signing their posts. Allow me to explain. First off, this idea was shamelessly stolen from the book Feed by Mira Grant. See my review of it here . To summarize, Newsies report on the news and current events. Irwins (named after Steve Irwin) write about adventure, in the moment life experiences, and opinions. Fictionals write, well, fiction - stories and poems and such. Like the book, we seek to recruit people into these categories and balance them out, so that the blog can be diverse. We all as writers have interests across fields though, which is kind of the whole point of this blog and the inspiration behind the name. (Interests change like the seasons) Thus, crossposting is welcomed and encouraged. If you are just joining us or wish to join us, here is some information that might help you place yourself in these categories. Newsies are focused on truth, and

Dear reader, Today I saw that censorship took another inch from free speech with the permanent banning of Nick Monroe from Twitter. ( see him on gab.com ) The reason? “Violating our rules against evading permanent suspension.” Thats right. This YouTuber was just banned from Twitter for re-creating an account with them after being censored years earlier. He has had this account without being noticed for three and a half years . It’s not like he just tried to create it, someone looked him up and intentionally censored him. And see, I would understand if he was inciting violence, or promoting dangerous ideology. This guy has nothing offensive or inciting in his recent tweets, or even in his tweets in general. The most I could find was that he tweeted about PizzaGate , which is his freedom to talk about. Actions like this should be worrying for all of us. As a user of Twitter, I have an interest in maintaining the maximum amount of freedom of speech on this platform. Bann