Day 9 & 10: Third and Steve Almond

Hey everybody! The two chapters that I am covering today (to get caught up from my lil vacation to southern Missouri) are called Third and Steve Almond.

Third, talks about how we gaze at something along with our writing. As Natalie Goldberg says, "There is you and there is writing. But you can't write about writing... You and writing must gaze out at a third thing."

She goes on to give an example about how this works in relationships with couples; you can't always be starring at each other face to face. There has to be something else that you are gazing at that draws you together, "Not face to face, but side to side." Ms. Goldberg points to a memoir called The Best Day and Worst Day by Donald Hall about his marriage to Jane Kenyon and all the things that they had together; poetry, ping pong, church, friends, friends children, traveling, gardening and the shared pleasure of the New England country side...

In Steve Almond, Goldberg writes how we don't start memoirs usually from the day that we are born right up to the present moment. We are usually telling about something in ourselves at a certain time, at a certain place, going through certain events. You don't write a book saying, "I'll tell you everything about myself and you will love it."

Goldberg states that you have to find the thing, the "rough elbow of our mind" that can be revealed.

Example? Steve Almond.

Steve Almond is a "serious author" with several short stories underneath his belt and two books out about his experiences, My Life in Heavy Metal and The Evil B.B. Chow and other stories. He has also written in several publications and teaches at Boston College on a creative writing course.

But it wasn't until he wrote about a passion in his life, in, Candyfreak: A Journey through the Chocolate Underbelly of America that people started to perk their ears up about him.

And what did he write about you may ask? Candy. He wrote about his relationship with candy and how it made him feel and the stories that he has to share that give a significant emotional attachment to candy. So much so, that when he left Poland to go back to America, his ex-lover left a few of his favorite chocolate bars to remind him of, "the taste of our doomed enterprise."

As Goldberg summerizes for us, "Candy illuminated his pain that he'd been trying to share all along."

What does this all come out too? That no matter what subject we write about, "anything a writer is drawn too and looks into deeply, reveals himself."

So without further ado...

Third

What is you third thing? Yes it can be your memories. Go, for ten minutes.

What is my third thing? What is the thing that I look out unto along with my writing? What is the thing that I gaze at?

It would have to be God.

How many times I have cried tears and He has come to consul my spirit, how many times I have filled page after page with words of love that I have for Him.

How many times has He come through for me, how He has directed my steps, watched my path, put me in good places where the boundaries of my life have fallen in pleasant places.

How man times has He come in the middle of the night how many times He has waited for me to be with Him.

How long has He waited to tell me who I am...

There are many things that I could look @, there are many things that could capture my heart and my eye.

There are many times I have gazed and pondered and noticed the beauty of seemingly mundane things: looking at the reflections of light on a white, bare wall, looking at the depth of blue on a Colorado sky, being so captured by stars in the night that I had to pull off the side of a highway just to gaze at these lights.

But what are these things without eyes to see? And what is beauty if not a purpose behind it... rather than a random creation of atom, thought and burning gas miles and miles away.

I am caught up in my creator's eye, and my gaze can find no greater form than the purpose behind the beauty that my, Father of lights, is.

Steve Almond

What do you think your passions are? Don't think. Make a list.

Now write for ten minutes, keep the hand going, what are your obsessions? Go.

Tell me this: what's the difference between passion and obsession? Would you rather have an obsession or a passion?

Passions:

• Travel,
• Writing,
• Drawing,
• Thinking,
• Eating,
• Drinking,
• Fellowshiping,
• Tasting,
• Seeing,
• Listening,
• Creating,
• Dreaming,
• Riding,
• Flying,
• Reading,
• Imagining,
• Daring,
• Dueling.

Obsessions:

Video Games; being lost in an imaginary place hour upon hour.

Hulu; mindless entertainment that causes one to kick back and do nothing... but also think and produce nothing.

Self-Identifying; the arduous process of continually trying to identify who you are countless: through what you do, through what other's say, through who you are around, through other methods, but, each one seeming to throw you farther off the scent of where you began.

People; always having to be around someone, although all well and good, but @ what cost of our privacy do we give up to be included and 'completed', supported and cared for by others around us.

Silence; when I'm upset, when I'm unsure, when I don't seem to know wheat the answer is or where it lies. Silence comes upon me, and the inner thoughts spin and spin and spin till all my head is filled with conversations and events that have not taken place, but in the confines of my mind.

There is a place for silence, but if what you are known for if your silence, your robbing the world of the gift that is your thoughts, words and voice.

Journeys; always wanting to be somewhere, always wanting to go somewhere.

Again, not all bad, but when a passion becomes an obsession, it comes out of balance and pulls you down rather then lifting you up, lifting not just you spirit, soul and body but the other that you take along with you.

I choose passion.

Well, that's it for today folks. Tomorrows topics? Nuts and Grade

See you guys there!

-Eric Alan

Note: New moleskin journal! Love the look and potential of an empty journal... it's just filled with so many promises :)

Day 7 and 8: Funny and Storage

Hey ya'll! I just got back from southern Missouri helping a friend of mine prepare his ranch for a summer event that is supposed to be attended by over 100,000 people! You can check out what is going on out there by checking out this website: http://www.wildernessoutcry.com/

Anyways, I haven't been able to keep the blog updated while I was down there because of poor internet connection. So, the next couple of days I'm going to do two entries at a time until I am able to catch back up with most of you all :)

This weeks topics: Funny and Storage

Funny

Tell me about a funny or odd thing that has happened in or around your car. Go. Ten minutes.

A funny thing that has happened around or in my car?

There was this one time, a funny/odd thing happened. I had just moved to Colorado Springs and was attending a local church in town called "Freedom". I was out with a few of my friends that I had made one night.

We were driving around downtown in the middle of this night; myself driving, one of my friends to the right of me, the other two seated behind me.

As we drove one of the guys from the back spoke up, "Hey, let's play a game!"

The one sitting to my right turned around and said, "I'm game, what are we playing?"

The one behind me responded, "Well, you can't really play, but you can participate. Eric, are you up for playing?"

At this question, I immediately became nervous. For the two in the back were whispering to themselves back and forth. One, had the reputation of being a bit of a prankster and creator of other imaginative games.

I had a little ground from the stories I had heard about what was going on, but it turned out that I had no idea...

"I'll play," I said with some reluctance, " will I like this game?"

The two behind me looked at each other, "Yea, you'll like it."

Shortly after, I turned onto a side street that was devoid of other moving vehicles that night.

Presently, the two behind me looked at each other, gave a nod of confirmation, and as I caught glimpses in my review mirror, one began to stand up in his seat and leaned towards me.

I felt one hand overcome my eyes turning the street lights and all other things into black... another hand grabbed my steering wheel...

Times up!

Storage

Tell me about a storage unit or someplace you stored things. Write for ten minutes.

My parents had just recently bought a restaurant that had closed down, they went on a bit of a shopping spree looking for things to equip this place: Booths from a pizza hut, stove hoods and air ventilation pipes from a local shop. They also bought these large, square metal box frames for something that was to be installed in the kitchen, but the edges of this thing were sharp and when you moved it you made sure your hands were never grasping it too hard.

All these things began to accumulating in storage sheds; mounds of carpet for the floor, spare pieces of wood to help with the renovation or to simply build a form for the cement trucks, piles of tables and chairs, sometimes stacked so delicately that the simplest touch would send it over, other times they would be thrown together so thick and randomly that it was like a unmovable steel forest that refused to give entrance to the back of the shed.

Having given life to four boys, my parents had a ready made moving force by the time this venture came around.

I remember several a hot, summer afternoon spent, crawling between and into these storage sheds, looking for pieces that were needed.

Each stop carefully placed, each footing tested for wobble and the possibility of collapse.

When you got towards the back, it was often mired in shadow and darkness, the only light source shinning from the open garage door, being scattered through the backs of chairs and the isolation of depth.

Often, back into the recess of these sheds, my quests would often be accompanied by the cobwebs picked up from along the nook and crannies of furniture forgotten...

Times Up!

Tomorrow's topics are: Third and Steve Almond

See you guys then!

Note: I have just used up another moleskin journal... tomorrow I must get myself a new one, as my roommate Daniel says, "Many a great thing has come from the minds of those who write in a Moleskin."

-Eric Alan

Day 6: Test II

Today's post is going to be several several shorter stories surrounded by the question of, "I remember..." With each new story beginning with the phrase, " Tell me..."

Natalie Goldberg points out that using that small nudge of, "tell me..." versus "tell about a time...," gives us the sense that we have someone to talk too. In a every good quote she states,

"In the act of writing is the unspoken need of having another to listen."

Something that I find all together true when I sit to write, even in my personal journals.

For to me, writing in my personal journal is not so much in helping me discuss and process events in my life (inherently listening to myself) but the greater motivation is the thought that one day, my children or grandchildren or great-grandchildren, will be able to pick up these books and to listen to the thoughts and stories that 'Ole Grandad' had to share with us.

Today's writing assignments:

"Tell me about a time you were in trouble in class."

"Tell me how you first learned to read."

"Teach me something."

"Tell me how you felt about math."

"Tell me some details about an uncle or grandfather. Be sure to include their name."

Three minutes each.

"Tell me about a time you were in trouble in class."

I remember almost never being in trouble in class. I say "almost never" because surely through 20 years of schooling, at point or another I must have been in some trouble for something.

Wether it be for recess, not doing homework or simply day dreaming in class...

I was always the quiet one in the classroom, the obedient one. I didn't always get things as quickly as others around me, but I tried my darndest to understand and comprehend all that I could.

Mostly out of fear of my parents really, they were (and still are) as loving as a small child cant want, but they had high expectations for us to meet. Not so much in what we learned, but how we acted while we were at school.

"Tell me how you first learned to read."

I remember many a day, of reading exercises, of writing, of language comprehension. My great-grandma Haverson (God bless her) had been a school teacher for many years.

When my parents told her that I having trouble reading and writing at school, she would come over to my grandparents house, when my family would come up to visit, and she would sit with me for hours doing work pages; reading, writing and arithmetic for good measure.

Here was this woman of years earned, sitting with one of her blond hair, blue eyed great-grandchildren. And it is one of my most precious memories of her.

"Teach me something."

How to 'center' a ball of clay:

First, you will need to plop your ball of clay onto the wheel, this will cause it to stick to the wheel head. Then, you will ned to start the wheel spinning.

Get your hands wet and get the ball of clay nice and wet as well.

This first action you will take is called "centering," from looking at the clay you can probably see that as it spins it's center of mass is off center... hence the word, "centering."

Your going to take your left hand and place it on top of the ball of clay, with most of your pressure going to be on the 'ball' of your palm, the second hand (right) is gong to come alongside the ball of clay.

With your thumbs touching so that they can communicate with each other.

"Tell me how you felt about math."

I was driving home from Oklahoma one night (I was living in Kansas city at the time).

The moon was out and shining with all it's fullness and I had one star out of the right corner of my driver side window that I felt was either following me all the way up to Kansas City or simply trying to play a game of 'hide and seek.'

At one point along the drive, I was coming up to a turn in the highway. One of those slight bends that you usually don't think about. But the way the way the moonlight was hitting it, I noticed the angle at which the road was raised and the thought came to me, "Someone used math to figure out at what degree the turn should be and at what angle the highway needs to be raised in order to compensate for the velocity (= speed + direction) of a car going 70 miles an hour, so that the vehicle doesn't simply fly off the road!"

"Tell me some details about an uncle or grandfather."

I remember so many memories of my uncles and grandfathers.

So many pleasent memories.

I remember my grandpa Ron, we would always go to his farm in northern Iowa for holidays. He owned and ran a thousand acres of land, as well as a barn full of hogs.

He was not a man of great height, but he was strong. I remember him grabbing our arms and us trying to get away from his grip and never being able too.

His head was one of the shiniest things that I had ever seen. He would often cover it up with his wig when we went out for dinner, but sitting at the kitchen table for breakfast, I would often try to sneak a rub to feel how smooth it was.

Done!

Most of these guys are actually about 4 minutes long. About that's one of the points of this assignment, to start remembering things and that whenever one of them perks your interests, you make a list of them in the back of your notebook to visit again.

Tomorrow's chapter, "Funny."

May miss a couple of days starting Monday depending on how much internet access we have down in southern Missouri. But will continue to be faithful to this challenge in my notebook.

See you all soon!

-Eric Alan

Day 5: "End"

Today, I woke up at 5:40 am and it was snowing outside...

Just when I started wearing shorts and my birkenstocks again, Colorado weather decides that it needs to snow about 3 inches on the ground. Don't get me wrong, I love snow and christmas and watching old movies around good family in a warm house... but spring is just being a tease right now and I don't know if I'm loving it or hating because of it. Lol.

Work was good, the boys that I work with had school off today because of the snow. So they all slept in and spent several hours trying to figure out what to do with themselves with an extra free day! Thankfully, us staff members have plenty of things for them to do: clean your rooms, eat breakfast, write in your journals, stop banging each other over the head with pillows. Good grown up things like that :)

Anyways, today's chapter is, "End."

Description: Tell me about how a relationship ended. Go. Ten minutes.

"End"

How a relationship ended?! That is one of those things that I would choose not to remember...

But here we go. I was a young boy, about 16 I believe, I had been driving for about 8-10 months now. Enough time to were I could borrow the car and the parents wouldn't stay up worrying anymore. My Mother and my Father had taken an old chinese restaurant (we found dead cats hanging in the fridge) and converted it into a christian music venue/ pizza buffet.

There was this girl that I knew that had liked me for a long time, all through children's church and into youth group, and I liked her a little too.

One day, we were all hanging out at my parents venue and I decided that I didn't want to be single anymore, that I wanted to be in a relationship with a girl. So, I asked my Dad who was there if I could ask (let's call her name Jane) Jane to be my girlfriend. He shrugged his shoulders and said, "yes."

I went over to the booth that she was sitting at and asked her out... she said yes!

The first couple of days everything was awesome; we got to call each other boyfriend and girlfriend, hold hands whenever we hung out, long talks face to face and over the telephone, which was a stretch for me because I never did like talking on phones :/

I started praying a lot too, thinking that now that I'm in a relationship, that I needed to hear from God about where and how you go on from here (this was my first, 'official' relationship).

Well, I heard from God alright, and it wasn't something that I was pleased to hear.

He told me that I was in this for the wrong reasons, that I didn't return her feelings the way that she felt about me... and He told me that I needed to break it off.

I swallowed it all very hard, being 16 and being told by God that you are basically, 'using' a girl so that you can have a sense of being in a relationship doesn't make you feel much taller than an ant lying down.

So, a few days later, we were hanging out and I sat down next to her and told her that I had to break up with her...

Times up!

I think that some of these stories I may have to bend the time limits so that they can be told in fullness. Let me know what you guys think about that. Blessing and I'll see ya all tomorrow!

-Eric Alan

Day 4: "Outside"

Today was another glorious reminder that spring was just around the corner. In fact it was so nice out (and with a little help of inspiration from Pradeepan's blog) I decided to take a jog around my block... 20 minutes later I returned home wholly winded and was reminded that I may have to do some more running to be able to get in shape for this summer.

Today's chapter is titled, "Outside."

Description: What about a time you slept outside? Ten minutes. Go.

"Outside"

A time that I slept outside... I have many memories of sleeping outside, but the most prominent memory has to be on the tail end of summer, 2001.

I was with five other guys traveling from town to town in southern China (this night was preceeded by a day with the local authorities, but that's a different story). It was dark, we found ourselves in a small area of grass looking at the border crossing between mainland China and Hong Kong, our chances of being 'free' that night were made low. The border was closed.

Exhausted from a whole day of traveling and eager to find ourselves back home, we decided that we would sleep the night right ther

e in the middle of that field and cross over the first ting in the morning. Rather then going through the hassle of finding a hotel for the night.

We agreed that each of us would take turns staying up, guarding our belongings and ourselves from potential pickpockets & R.O.U.S.'s (Princess Bride anyone?).

The first of us got in his guard stance and we all laid on our packs to get some shut-eye. The grass was hard and sharp, like hundreds of pine needles giving way to your weight upon the earth.

We weren't asleep for more than a hour when we were suddenly awoken by an official screaming at as in chinese and using his arms and hands to tell us to go away.

We were all so tired, we moved about ten yards away and laid again on the hard ground.

My head resting on a lumpy backpack and my personal belongings squeezed tightly beside me... I closed my eyes a second time.

A little while later, I was awoken by my friend, it was my turn to stand watch. I put my bag in the middle of the ring that we had formed by 5 sleeping bodies and preceded to stay viligant until my hour of watch was up.

Walking around in circles, chasing dark shapes through a few nearby bushes, these shadows seemed to scatter when I would come near, gazing at the bright lights of the border on one side and a bay on the other.

Tasting the salt air and the slight breeze that would pick up now and then...

Times up! Next chapter: "End"

See you guys there!

-Eric Alan

Day 3: Again & What's in Front of You

Day 3 of Blogrimage, today was a bit of a busier day... but definitely one of the better days thus far. Espicially since it was 65 and sunny today, had a wonderful meeting with my Pastor and then say around a park bench with some of my closest friends and mentors drinking Orange Fanta and eating Pizza... You don't get much better than that!

As for today's work on the memoir, the chapter I read through was called "Again". It dealt with the author of this book sharing a experience she had when she wrote a book about her father and a teacher of hers that she considered a great mentor... in short order, people were hurt and offended.

So much so that she didn't write for 8 months because of the pain that she felt, by these people shunning her when she wrote the book in honor of the memories of these two people who were very close to her.

She goes on to say that sometimes, you are not ready to reveal some of the things that you have written down; the secrets, the hurts and the fears. And that that is ok, but it's better to get them on a page in a notebook somewhere and bury the book, then to have these secrets "pollute" everything that you write. For secrets will try to come to the surface at any occasion given, for when they are left alone, not looked at, not faced, not written... "your secrets can only haunt you."

What did I take away with this, that even though I may have memories or secrets that I may have in my life, it is better to have them written down somewhere and for me to decided if and when, those things should come to the forefront, then for them to sulk in the back of my mind day in and day out...

With that being said, I moved on to the next chapter to see what it had to say, what writings challenges it would have to offer, it gave me this; "What's in Front of You."

It talked about how, when your stuck at your writing desk, coffee shop or wherever you go to write, its usually better to start writing about something: What's in front of you? What's behind you? What do you see?, then to simply stare at a blank piece of paper (or a blinking cursor for the more tech savy). As we write about the things in front of us; "a table with with a lamp thats sitting before an open window to a cool summer breeze" etc. etc., we then make correlations in our memories with the things that we see; "this table reminds me of the time I went to my uncle's and discovered my first taste of a deep splinter..."

This practice can help us in those times when nothing seems to come to mind... just start by writing what you see... So, without further ado:

What's in Front of You

Try it. Ten minutes. (If no memory comes, then you get good practice in noticing the physical details around you.)

What's in front of me? A coffee table with four glass panes, sitting on a hard-wood floor. Hours of prayer and study poured into pores, now slowly releasing the wealth that it has gathered from father's hearts and Spirit of Wisdom downloads.

I remember Pastor Brett, how often times he would sit us down and tell us things that would make our heads spin about government, wisdom, widows & orphans free masonry & quarter dollars...

My head would be at a loss, my tongue tied and hearing a language that was foreign to my ears... but yet, he would pulled aside and say, "Did not our hearts burn for the words that we have heard."

And he was right, there was truth in what he said.

Though my intellect could not grasp the things in front of me, my heart burned, it desired to know right, to know this wisdom whose house was so highly built. And what things would be unlocked when what I knew in my heart was true, caught up to my understanding.

I have in front of me, many objects that would collect in a bachelor's house of five; two glasses, one hand-made mug, one mac-book pro, one half gone pepsi can, a sketch book, a set of keys, 3 poker chips, a bottle of ibuprofen, an empty plate with two pizza crusts, two books ("A place of my own" by Michael Pollan & "Drawing from life: The Jou

rnal as Art"), another set of keys, one wallet and my new favorite hat that I bought three weeks ago at Target for $15 after a 3 month search and even longer desire...

Time's up! Title for tomorrow, "Outside".

Let me know how everyone likes this! Any thoughts, ideas or improvements to the blog would be great to read. See you guys tomorrow.

-Eric Alan

Day 2: Peach & James Baldwin

Today I found myself waking up to the idea of blogging; what to blog next, how will this look like at the end of 30 days, how will I be able to update this blog while I'm away in rural southern Missouri :)

The day went on as it usually does, be at work by 6 am, take the kiddos to school by 8 am (I work in a foster home), clean the house till noon and off I was, to my home starring at my computer in the face.

For sometime I wonder in my head about different things nothing really happening until I came upon a thought... "if you were asked to write a story, a story about anything with no parameters, could you do it?"

I have a roommate of mine who looks at this feat with great angst; however, you give him a topic and then start defining that topic again, again and again... with each passing set of rules or guidelines he will be able to write you a story.

But as I pondered that question in my head, I suddenly had a story going. A story about two kings, one journey and a bet with their kingdoms in the balance... when I finish it I will think about posting it ;)

But as for today's work on my memoir, it is on the the chapters titled: "Peach" and "James Baldwin".

The challenge in "Peach" is the old saying that if you eat enough peaches, you will become a peach. This can be true in terms of reading and writing. The more that you read great author's; their thoughts, their words, their passionate intensity through the pages, the more likely you are to write as an author. So, I was challenged to come up with a list of 10 memoirs that I would like to read. Some the same, some from different perspectives on the world, but all meant in one purpose to help oneself write better and to challenge yourself to look at the world through someone else's view.

I don't have a list of ten memoirs that I have at the top of my head, but I can think of one:

Second Nature: A Gardener's Education by Michael Pollan

I want to read this book because I love the land, I love the idea of growing my own food, working my own fields, walking through my own orchards and smelling the sweetness of fruit ready and ripe for harvest.

I love the idea of having a small farm someday, where the work is hard but good and everything that you need is just there at arms length... it might be a pipe dream, but in my experience, people who work the land, live off the land, are some of the most grounded and generous individuals that you would have the pleasure of meeting.

Seeing how I haven't completed the first assignment (I will work on this list and get back to you on it) I thought I would read the next chapter, titled "James Baldwin", and see what challenges it would have to offer and it was simply this: "Tell me of a great book that you have read. Ultimately, writing won't go far if you have never fallen in love with a book, an author, even the smell of paper, the sweet anticipation of opening to page one and beginning. In falling in love we realize we are not separate... that the river of words is part of us."

The preface of all this is a short story from a writer named James Baldwin, asked to read this story out loud, you get the sense of the intensity of what the man is telling. How he is not trying to please anyone anymore, but more, he is looking into the face of his maker and we happen to overhear the conversation. Natalie Goldberg describes reading this passage and immediately going to a local bookstore and picking up a several copies of Mr. Baldwin's fiction... and how, in a retirement complex in Florida helping her Grandmother recover from a hurricane, she fell in love with the books of James Baldwin...

The earliest memories that I have of books is sitting down in grade school recess and being able to read those 'illustrated children's classics' books in a span of about an hour. I would try to read one everyday if I could; reading stories like Ivanhoe, Robin Hood, Moby Dick, Robin Cursoe and Great Expectations. But these aren't the books that I fell in love with.

My Mother, kept a huge library of christian books in her basement, I remember spending hours helping her catalogue these books by type, author and alphabetic name. But there was one book that I found amongst all these that caught my intention, it was a fictional story of adventure, shipwreck and redemption.

For the life of me I cant remember what it was titled or who the author is, but I can tell you the story by heart, because I read that book over and over and over again. It was about three boys that all went to sea together, when their ship is hit by a sudden storm, they are all thrown overboard and find themselves alive, but marooned on a desert island. They go exploring and end up finding ways to survive on this little island, but not much time passes when one child is suddenly kidnapped by pirates and about to be sold to local natives before he is helped to escape by a beautiful native princess and an old pirate who has had enough of his way of life...

I could go on to tell you the rest story... but then that would be spoiling an entirely good book that took me through many a rainy afternoon.

Tomorrow's post, "Again".

See you there :)

-Eric Alan

Blogrimage! Day 1: The beginnigs again...

Today, I have started a quest. Although it is not the search for the Holy Grail, it is a quest to once again come back to this media that we call "Blog's"!

I have been challenged by a good friend on mine name Joe, to start a blogrimage. A 30 day venture to do one thing, something that I have always wanted to do, and to blog about this journey with near 40 other friends. We have all come together to blog about one thing that we feel would challenge us... or just entertain us :) Some have picked jump-rope in the process of a six-pack, some have chosen to ask one question to a complete stranger, "when do you find yourself the most vulnerable?".

The challenge that I have picked for myself? Begin to write my memoir, with a little help from a book call "Old Friend from Far Away" by Natalie Goldberg. So, everyday for the next 30 days, I will be taking one assignment from this book, fulfilling it out to it's uttermost and then posting those writing here for you all to see and enjoy.

Feel free to comment as you like, the more thoughts that get shared the better. Also feel free to follow our group on facebook, "30DAY BLOGRIMAGE" and see what all our quests takes us in these next 30 days.

So with out further ado...

Day 1: Home

Where is home for you? 10 minutes to write. Go.

Where is home for me? Home is where I belong, home is the place wher I have others that care about me, that cherish me.

Home is the place where you feel the most comfortable, the most loved.

Home is where you want to go when you have been away for a long time.

Home is where you put your feet up after a long journey, home is where you lay your head at night and you are at peace... you are still.

Home can be one place and only one place, but home can also be a multitude of places; of families, of loves had, friendships made and journeys begun.

Home is the place of stories. Where the young learn from the old, where the old watch and enjoy the thrill, the joy, the energy of the young.

Home is a place to grow, home is a place to rest. Home is the place where we all desire to live. It is the place where we want to spend our time, where we want to enjoy those who are around us.

Home is the place where meals are shared the place where bonds are formed. Home solidifies who we are, what we love to do, who we can see ourselves becoming.

Home is our sanctuary. Home is our center.

Without the home we wander, without the home we are lost (not the t.v. show).

Home is where children can be children. Where Fathers & Mothers can be husbands and wives.

Where one can take on the role of a nurse, a chef, a theripists, a coach, a drill sergant, a judge, a jury and many time, the keeper of dreams and hopes of the ones that are too fragile to fly away...

10 minutes are up. Tomorrows subject: 'Peach'. See you then my friends :)

-Eric