Karma – Trifecta Challenge



Fickle mistress.

Rewarding good deeds

and laying in wait to punish evil.

Just desserts served with panache

and a side of impartiality.

A vibration of kismet.

You found me sooner than anticipated.



Written for the weekend Trifecta Challenge: On to the quick and dirty Trifextra.  This weekend we are assuming that many of you are slogging your way through leftovers and family bickering (or is that just us?) and thus we’re going way easy on you.  This weekend we are asking for a 33-word free write.  Give us whatever you’ve got. – See more at: http://www.trifectawritingchallenge.com/#sthash.p013Fbnp.dpuf

(image credit: getinvolved.ca)

Something wicked this way comes

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Intuition is a perplexing thing.  Our body is a natural conduit for energy and that energy has an odd but effective way of giving us warning signs that danger is lurking.   The witches in Macbeth described the feeling as a pricking in their thumbs.  We may feel it when the hair on the nape of our neck stands at attention but the premise is the same.  Our gut is sending a message that our brain cannot ignore.

Usually we can’t understand the visceral reaction to a certain circumstance but we have to put our faith in its validity.  That little voice gets very vocal when it feels imminent danger and usually that voice is spot on.  Everyone is born with the gift of intuition but it is how we heed the wisdom of that instinctive feeling that is of great benefit to us.

That moment when something wicked does actually come may be completely averted by listening to those nagging doubts in our mind.  Those doubts exist for a reason.  There is a power far beyond some people’s belief or comfort level that aids in our self-preservation.   That terse glance over our shoulder, the quickening of our step while walking in the dark – both may feel cryptic and unnecessary but listening to those pestering whispers may help us avoid an uncomfortable situation.

That intuition may also have altruistic applications.  The stirring in our senses does not always represent peril but could also put us on the path to good fortune.  The Yin and Yang of those intuitive forces can also help us make decisions for our benefit and not just our physical longevity.   Our lives are based on choices and that same power of perception can guide us through those choices and help us discover the best path for our journey.

My thumbs do not become prickly, nor does the hair stand up on my neck.  I get goosebumps, and that chicken skin that was once my flesh has never steered me wrong.  Hopefully when something wicked this way really does come, I will be the human version of Foghorn Leghorn, plucked and covered with a road map of goose-flesh to guide me to safety.

There’s no place like home


If you read my post yesterday, you’ll know I awoke out of a comfortable sleep and repeated the phrase “white rabbit” three times.  It’s an old family tradition meant to bring luck for the remaining days of that month.  I do believe we create our own luck to some extent, but there are definitely external forces, with perhaps a bit of Karma thrown in for good measure, that help propel us into those moments of good fortune.

I haven’t checked my astral projections to know if my stars were aligned yesterday (I don’t really do that), but the day was full of positive energy and the God’s seem to smile favorably upon me in many ways.  Probably the most exciting news was the possibility of writing a page for a local magazine that has a feature written by selected guest writers about the area that I am proud to call my home.  The decision will be made after the editor has decided that my writing prowess cuts the mustard, but I’m hopeful that I will pass the test.

Writing, to me, is about combining things I truly believe in with an honesty that the reader can not only relate to, but can find charm and warmth in the words that I feel strongly about putting on a page.  Writing is about bringing life and imagery to the forefront of the reader’s mind and helping them experience the same passion I feel for the subject about which I so diligently write and rewrite.

I know another blogger (and successful author) who is making the pilgrimage back to a place she truly calls home.  It is her muse and her refuge from a world that she blended into, but never could truly call her home.  I know that she will find solace in enveloping herself in the place she can genuinely feel like she is herself and that natural landscape will welcome her back with open arms.  There is no place like home.

My desire is that the panorama of my daily life and the poetry of my words will collide to create a spectral portrait and do justice to the beauty in which I am fortunate enough to spend my days and nights.  It is the song of my soul.  It is my true home.

With my writing cap on and my fingers poised above the keyboard, I will click my ruby slippers three times and forge into a tale of love for a landscape that has embedded itself into the cells of my being.  Home is where the heart is, and my heart only beats here.