Category: General

Food For Thought · Life in general

I’m still here….

Tori LennoxLeave a comment

It’s been a long three months for a lot of reasons. Mainly because I was torn by my writing. I wasn’t sure which book I should finish or whether I wanted to continue submitting manuscripts to publishers. Not because I’m bothered by rejection notices. Actually, the rejection notices were promising. However, I continued revisiting the reason I wanted validation by a large publishing house in the first place for a few weeks and realized it was no longer relevant. I decided to learn everything I can about self-publishing and do what needs to be done to promote my books myself instead. It just makes more sense since I already have several books finished and I have the time to do the work now.

Another reason I haven’t blogged is because I had family coming in from SC in February. Actually, it was Mom’s family. That was a hoot and not in a good way. I ended up getting verbally attacked in a restaurant because mom wasn’t there by her sister-in-law, her daughter, and her son-in-law who seemed to believe I could have influenced her to come with us as she used to do. They missed that Kathy and thought I was either to blame for her staying home or that I could have made her change her mind.

Neither was true and I miss that Kathy, too. But she doesn’t exist anymore. First off, Mom is 93 years old. Two and a half years ago, she had a bad fall that almost killed her. Two years ago, she had her first stroke. A year and a half ago she had her second stroke which led to me leaving my job to come home full-time. Added to that, she has health issues that make her a poor candidate for the covid vaccine, so no shot. That’s the downside.

The upside is despite all of that, she’s doing great. Her mind is sharp, and she has no bad deficits from the stroke. She’s healthy and vibrant. However, she uses a rollator and she doesn’t have a lot of endurance. It takes everything out of her to get ready for an outing. But she’s living her life to the fullest the way she wants to. She no longer does things just to make other people happy like she did before her fall. She dictates her life and I let her unless it’s something unhealthy or potentially dangerous for her. That’s the “influence” I have over her.

You might wonder why I’m writing all of this. It’s because this whole incident made me realize something important – we need to love people for who they are. Not who we want them to be or who they used to be. I was deeply wounded by the attack until I realized how pathetic those three really are. They’re so preoccupied with their selfish wish for what used to be that they’re missing out on the pleasure of what is.

I love spending time with Mom watching the birds and the squirrels. I enjoy watching tv with her. I enjoy going outside to sit in the swing with her. I enjoy knowing she’s still as sharp as she used to be in so many ways. I love the fact she has so much life in her. They should too; but they don’t. Mom’s response to the whole situation was, “They just won’t let me get old.” She’s a wise woman who doesn’t mind being old because she still finds so much joy in her life. That’s a lesson we should all learn.

Another reason I’ve been gone is because, in addition to visiting family (we had another family member down from Tennessee the next week), I was editing my best friend’s novel. It was an “interesting” take on a common theme and, I believe, it would have been great when it was finished. Unfortunately, I received a call from his girlfriend six days ago informing me my friend had passed away three weeks earlier. She found him on his bedroom floor. “They” think he died from a blood clot. While I didn’t cry, I felt like everything inside me was going to implode for a couple of days. I just couldn’t process the whole thing. I was too shocked he was gone. The sad part is I’d sent him an email a couple of days before to check on him and promise to send the rest of the edited manuscript up soon.

My friend was a 58-year-old attorney who’d recently retired due to health issues. However, his sudden death was not expected! We’d spent a lot of time talking about what he was going to do next. We were talking about finally starting that publishing company we’d been tossing around for six years. He was starting to write again and hoping to develop a whole new career path. The last time I spoke with Robert, he was doing well.

Due to conflicting schedules and the fact we lived almost five hundred miles apart, I hadn’t seen my friend in close to twenty years. However, we were still close. We spoke on the phone every month or two and emailed more often. My friend was more than a friend. I loved him dearly. I would have done almost anything for him, and he would have done the same. We’d been friends over forty years.

What started as acquaintance in junior high became casual friendship in high school became deep friendship in college and law school over “Crazy Kate” to eventually a dating relationship a few years later. Unfortunately, although we tried to make it work three or four times, I never felt the degree of love for him that he felt for me and that wasn’t fair to him. However, we both valued our friendship more than a failed romance despite the bump in the road.

Although it may seem otherwise, there is a point to this rambling mess and that’s to treasure the people you love where they are for who they are. Find great joy in your relationships knowing they aren’t perfect and never will be. Don’t take advantage of others’ feelings even if you can. I could have made it work with Robert; but I would have been settling and denying him the depth of love a truly good man deserved. My mom’s relatives are missing out on incredible moments by not accepting her as she is. Honestly, their loss is my gain.

The best advice I can give anyone is spend every second you can with family and friends just basking in the little things. Don’t take for granted the idea they’ll be here when you have the time. Or when it’s more convenient. They won’t. I lost my mother when I was 32 and she was 51. My now “mom” is my ex-mother-in-law. I lost another close friend last year on March 4. She made me want to pull my hair out more often than not; but I loved her, and there’s a huge hole in my heart where she used to be. Brenda was only 66, and like Robert, was found dead unexpectedly on her bedroom floor. Likely from a heart attack. She was much too young to go that way. They both were.

In closing, this is Brenda, my mom, and me. Yes, I have an eyebrow that decided to do its own thing at some point after I’d left home! It’s okay, I still like the picture, and you can laugh with me!

Until next time,

Calla

emotional healing · General Quirkiness · Judeo-Christian Perspective · Life in general · observations · Opinions · Religious · Supernatural

I’ve struggled with this one…

Tori LennoxLeave a comment

In the, “Do I or don’t I” write this piece sense. It took me a few days to finally decide that, Yep, this one’s kind of out there, but it’s true so I’m going for it. I’ve been honest about my life and my journey from self-loathing to self-respect in so many ways. But, I’ve never shared this part largely because it’s easier to speak about abuse than it is to speak about “Spiritual” or “Supernatural” beliefs some of which seem foolish with hindsight. Not foolish that I believed certain things on my spiritual journey. That’s what a “Seeker” does. Foolish because I let my beliefs control me when I believed I was controlling my beliefs.

I’ve also debated opening up about this aspect of my life because it’s not only out there; but incredibly long. More than one blog long. Probably a two or three-parter. However, I’ve made allusions to “my journey” in terms of my spirituality and stated outright that I came by my Christian beliefs the hard way. However, I’ve never shared that much about how I went from practicing a form of “Christopaganism” to my current belief system. I think it’s time to weave that story with the same candor I’ve tried to exhibit in all of my posts.

The sad part of my story is I considered myself a Christian while I dabbled in Occult practices. I didn’t comprehend it’s one or the other. The two don’t mix. Like it or not, when you try to have it both ways, you’re going to favor one side over the other. I’ll let you guess which one. I’m not saying these statements because I’ve heard or read them somewhere. I’ve lived the events I’m writing about so I’m not just sharing beliefs. I’m sharing experiences. I can assure you the lure of Astrology, or psychics, or Tarot Cards or whatever soul poisoning dabble you choose isn’t worth the price you’ll pay down the road. It wasn’t for me.

My dance with the dark side started in elementary school as a smart kid with a fearless mind and a thirst for knowledge that continued for most of my life. The dark, musty downstairs “Vault” of my small town library was a treasure trove of resource books that entertained me for years. There were tomes on everything from gardening to true crime to history to travel to the 19th century Spiritualist Movement and everything in between. I grazed through all of them; but I was drawn most to the books about hauntings, the preternatural, and the Spiritualists. I devoured every ghost hunting book Hans Holzer wrote. I read about Atlantis, Lemuria, and Mu as well as the Order of the Golden Dawn. I digested the writings of Edgar Cayce. I became fascinated with UFO’s, crop circles, and ley line theories. Don’t get me wrong, I pursued other interests like medicine, history, quantum theory, FBI profiling, forensic facial reconstruction, and history among other things. As I’ve already said, I liked knowing a little bit about some things and a lot about others. Unfortunately, for the most part, the “lot” wasn’t the right stuff. My favorite dance was with Astrology, Tarot Cards, ghosts, ET’s, and things that go bump in the night all under the guise of knowledge.

Despite all that, I considered myself a Christian. I would have corrected anyone for suggesting otherwise. I believed in Jesus. There were things I didn’t do because they were “wrong.” I had the guilt, the condemnation, the rules and regulations without ever having the relationship with the Father or the Son. Forget the Holy Spirit. He was just a word. I believed I was right. The occult interests I dabbled in weren’t my “religion.” They were just passing fancies I found interesting and I had “rules” in place to protect me.

Those rules were laughable. For one thing, I was already in a dark place from the time I was molested the first time. To even think I could wallow deeper in the dark without being affected takes a serious disconnect from reality. You can’t. I believed I could read about witchcraft as long as I didn’t read the spells or chants. I could read about other religions if I didn’t read the rituals. In fact, I could read anything I wanted to read as long as I kept the wrong words out of my head. Right. I was playing with things I didn’t fully understand although I knew enough to know words have power. Looking back, there was something in me that drew a line in the sand I couldn’t cross. One that said I was willing to dabble this far; but not cross the line. While I’m grateful for that restraint, I went too far.

Far enough I didn’t like the dark and I didn’t like to sleep. I was born an insomniac. My mind was always churning. The fear of the dark came later. About the time I learned there might be things to fear in the dark like that cold, malevolent presence I encountered at the top of the stairs one night in my family home. It should have clued me in when the “whatever” departed and let me pass when I cried out to Jesus. It didn’t. Not really, I brushed it off as “one of those things.” Not my brightest moment. I don’t claim to know what that was or why it happened. It just did. I don’t even claim to know what it’s intent was beyond the fact I felt like I was being pushed down to a kneeling position and I didn’t like that even more than I didn’t like it.

For one thing, I was standing on the top step of a second floor staircase, not the landing, and that wasn’t safe. For another, the whole experience was terrifying. For the third, I don’t like being forced to do anything so there was a degree of anger in the fear. While I’m grateful the story ended with me walking safely to my bedroom, I wish I’d had enough sense to be scared back in the right direction. I wasn’t. Not beyond putting my Bible by my bed and reading it. I was fourteen or fifteen at the time and already too damaged for that degree of common sense to bleed through the youthful arrogance. Added to that, the hamster was already galloping around the “if I can control my life, I can control the pain” wheel in my brain and had been for several years by then.

As my occult interests expanded, my boundaries became more defined. I had enough sense to know I was flitting where I shouldn’t go and I needed to do more than just not read certain words. So, I decided what I would and wouldn’t do; but, I didn’t give up my quest. Knowledge is seductive and I wanted to know. That mindset is dangerous. It can take you places you’re not meant to go. But, as I said, I had boundaries. Right. I thought I knew everything when I knew nothing.

I understood I wasn’t going to play with Ouija Boards. I’d heard enough spooky stuff about that to steer clear. Crystals didn’t interest me. The idea of channeling or automatic writing scared the hell out of me. Literally. The idea of something overtly having control of me that wasn’t me wasn’t anything I wanted to tangle with. I wasn’t interested in astral projection. I didn’t know what would crawl in when I crawled out. I wouldn’t dabble with anything involving Satanism, grimoires, spells, or blood sacrifices. None of the yuck stuff that ended up in horror stories. But that doesn’t mean I didn’t joyfully prance around in shadowy areas I considered “safe.” I did and it all started innocently enough with imitating my Mother’s interest in magazine horoscopes.

While my goal isn’t to freak you out, real life is messy. Most of us drift into things without realizing we’re doing it. I dabbled in things we consider mainstream now like astrology and tarot cards. I consulted psychics a few times in my life. I did more than that as I’ll share more in depth in the next post. In closing, I wasn’t that stereotypical weird Goth kid everyone knew something was wrong with or the woman who cut herself in private. I wasn’t an addict or an alcoholic. None of that. I was a very normal, very average woman with a love for learning. Or so I thought. In reality, I think subconsciously I was a woman searching for some way to end the pain and find a degree of peace and happiness anyway I could find it

Until Part II,

Calla

Food For Thought · General · Novels · observations · Opinions · Writing & Creativity

A Bit of This…

Tori LennoxLeave a comment

A bit of that. With how I feel this morning, that’s how this post will be. All over the place. As I sit here watching squirrels and birds grazing in my patio garden, I’m content in the moment. There’s something about being told off by a woodpecker because the bird feeder is lacking I find funny. I’m not as amused by the ravenous pole-dancing fur ball that loves to decimate said feeder when there’s plenty of food set out for him. I’m also not as happy my tiny titmice aren’t as pleased with the new “squirrel free” feeder as I’d hope they would be. The birds prefer competing with my Kamikaze woodpecker pair for their shot at the feeder. I’m hoping my little friends will grow to appreciate both feeders. I don’t know if that’s going to happen. Time will tell. It usually takes a while for the feather babies to warm up to anything new. They still aren’t sure if I’m friend or foe even though I feed them.

In the interim, I’m enjoying the constant insanity of bobbing morning doves on my patio, obnoxious blue jays dive bombing my mulch every now and then, and my beloved cardinal love bugs who visit several times a day. They have a special place in my heart because Daddy Red watches over his plump little princess from a higher perch every time they come calling. He even feeds her sometimes which makes my heart melt and I’m not really a heart melting kind of girl. Daddy Red likes to feed on the feeder and bathe in the bird bath while he watches over his mate. Little Girl prefers her seeds from a pie plate on the patio and her bath from the puddle accumulating in the seat of a plastic chair. As insignificant as this sounds, it makes me smile since this is as close to the country as I can get living in town and I cherish every moment.

I haven’t written for a while because I’ve gone through some health issues for close to three weeks. It started with a fairly bad autoimmune flare and ended with an unexpected issue that physically wiped me out as much as the flare. As annoying as being useless is, it wasn’t all bad. While I didn’t get my novel submitted as I’d hoped, I did realize I needed to change a couple of things and I got started on my synopsis. So, not all bad. I had a lot of time to think while I rested as well.

The biggest thing on my mind was the contents of this blog and how it might affect my ability to sell my books. I became concerned that my more conservative values aren’t in sync with what people want to hear. That my opinions might be deemed offensive. In the end, I decided not to change a thing. There are a lot of ideas and opinions in this world that offend me and some that, offense aside, are just plain wrong in a reality that has any sense of honor or integrity. Any absolutes. However, other people are entitled to hold any belief they want. I respect that right. All that I ask is to be allowed the same courtesy.

I think that attitude comes from being old enough and grounded enough to realize my life isn’t all about me. I remind myself of that daily. Maybe that I’ve given up everything in terms of my job and my personal income to take care of my “Mom” reminds me of that. Every time I struggle with how narrow my world has become, I’m hit with how much more content I am with my daily life now. I feel a great sense of gratitude to God for making it possible for me to be here with my ex-mother-in-law giving her the life and the dignity she deserves. She’s doing great. It doesn’t matter my boss and my co-workers thought I was nuts for doing it. I’ve walked away from everything I spent seven years building with the conviction even if it’s sometimes scary, you have to find joy where you are and I’m doing that.

Back to the blog thing, I’ve decided in a world where very little is honest or concrete, I need to be both. I don’t blog for the “likes” or the views or the comments although receiving any of those puts a smile on my face. I blog with the hope something I say will positively impact someone out there in some way. I blog because I want to remind myself how far I’ve come from the irreparably damaged woman I used to be. I blog because it keeps me writing and makes me feel like I’m following some part of my calling. While I’m not really out there in the world due to family commitments, my “voice” can be. Even in the darkest years of my life, I tried to help others. Offer comfort and encouragement in a crazy world. I couldn’t heal myself; but I tried to heal others. I’m still doing the little I can the only way I can at the moment. I write these nutty little blogs.

In closing, it’s taken me several days to finish this post because I was slogging through writing a novel synopsis and a cover letter as well as doing the final edit of my first three chapters. I had to make sure my submission was up to snuff. As you can imagine, that’s the hardest part of writing. It wasn’t fun at all; but I was so happy when I finished. Not only finished. I was satisfied with my work. That was a feeling I didn’t think I’d have.

I emailed my novel submission to the publishing house at 9:30 E.T. this morning. What a way to celebrate my 57th birthday! Now, the waiting starts. We’ll see what happen. In the meantime, I have three completed novels to edit so I have my work cut out for me!

Until next time,

Calla

emotional healing · General · Introductions

On to the newest adventure…

Tori LennoxLeave a comment

It’s been a while since I’ve written although I did post a page yesterday. I’ve been busy completing my novel over the last month or so. I should have it submitted by the end of next week. We’ll see what happens after that. Once I’m done, I’ll probably take a short break before I start the next book just to clear my head and do “fun” writing like, say, my blog. Maybe work on a couple of those unfinished fanfic pieces. Who knows? While I’m focused when it comes to projects, I tend to be more rambling in my more casual pursuits.

None of that is really important in the big scheme except I’m adding a podcast into the mix. Again, I don’t know what the subject matter will be. I’m giving the same warning I did with my blog. What I talk about will vary with my mood. I’ll probably start with a few of my past blogs that were liked. From there, I’ll move on to new things. Most of those “things” will probably revolve around life lessons and emotional healing. Those seem to be the blogs that catch the most interest.

For this first endeavor, let’s get acquainted. Hi, I’m Calla. Not my real name of course; but, short for Calladragon, my pen name on Fanfiction.net. I’m from South Carolina; but, I live in Florida now. I’ll be 57 in June so I’ve been around the block a few times and that’s what I’m most interested in sharing. The lessons I’ve learned the hard way. That’s not everything I’ll “talk” about – but, it’s probably a big part of it. While I can’t tell you precisely how to heal your traumas because I’m not you, I can share my story in a very open, honest way I would have found both embarrassing and humiliating a few years ago.

I’ve come a long way in the last five years. I’ve reached the point where I understand part of healing is taking responsibility for my part in what happened to me. It doesn’t matter if it’s something as simple as choosing to do something my instincts screamed not to do. I did that so many times and I paid in blood every time. Sometimes literally. As stupid as that makes me sound, I’m a well-educated, intelligent woman. I’m just like so many of us and I didn’t learn from my mistakes. Part of that was because my self-worth was destroyed as a child, the other part of the equation is I tried to fit in when I was different instead of valuing those differences.

I’m not making excuses for my behavior, just making statements of fact with the clarity that comes from hindsight. The sad truth is most of us don’t learn from our mistakes. Not immediately. That being said, I’m not victim blaming. I’m telling you the first step to dealing with your trauma. Take responsibility for your part if it’s just, “I walked into the grocery store to buy a quart of milk at the wrong time,” and forgive yourself for it. Then acknowledge you’re not responsible for what someone else chose to do to you and forgive them. That’s hard to do. Actually, both of those things are hard to do. However, you can do it if you persevere. I did. It took me years to forgive myself and to forgive others. When I finally did, I realized that was the key to healing and restoring my self-worth. To walking away from depression and self-loathing.

That’s probably the kind of thing I’ll talk about in my own words in my own voice. Eventually. That own voice thing is a big step for me since I don’t like how I sound on recordings. Right now, I want to get my mind around the idea of a podcast and practice a little bit before I take the plunge to record my own work.

The only other thing I think you should know is something I’ve already disclosed in past blogs. I’m a Charismatic Christian. Don’t let the Christian part turn you off. I haven’t always been one and I’m not trying to convert you. I want to reach anyone who’s hurting no matter your belief system. Honestly, that’s what I’m supposed to do – share the love in my heart with you. That doesn’t mean I have to hold the same belief system as you. That doesn’t mean I expect you to believe exactly as I do. It’s just an important part of who I am and I don’t apologize for it. It’s also an integral part of my personal healing journey. When I finally decided I wanted to believe Jesus loved me in spite of how little I valued myself, that gave me permission to attempt loving myself. It took a lot years of confronting abuse to crawl out of the abyss into the warm sunshine but I’ve finally done it.

I’ve rambled enough for now. Thank you for letting me share my thoughts.

Until next time,
Calla

Food For Thought · General Quirkiness · History · observations

Pensive Moments…

Tori LennoxLeave a comment

Usually means I’m pondering some aspect of my humanity. Of what it means to be human in the broader sense of the word. I do that frequently. I’m fascinated by people and by what makes us tick. I often wonder why we think, believe, and act the way we do and I’m amazed by how little we’ve changed over thousands of years. That we’re still motivated by the same desires and emotions that have motivated us since the beginning of time. Both the good and the bad. Sometimes all that pondering sends me hopping down some pretty weird rabbit trails….

No, I’m not preparing to launch into another commentary on current events. I said my piece in the preceding blog. I will make the generalized statement people have been twisting stories and facts to suit their purposes for millennia. That hasn’t changed either and I doubt it ever will. That tendency seems to be hotwired into us. While I’m not sure this post will help anyone in a discernable manner, I hope it makes you rethink from where, and from whom, you get your facts. That’s something we all need to do every now and then.

What started my mental meanderings in the first place was a recent attempt to watch a popular History Channel program that touts panspermia and the “undeniable” reality it was impossible for us lowly humans to have amounted to much without “alien” intervention. Alien as in extraterrestrial entities. Not alien as in someone from a different country. So, I’m not a true believer when it comes to little green men or grays although I was a rabid X-Files fanatic back in the day. I wanted to believe, and I tried. I just couldn’t quite get there with the evidence shown.

Now that I’ve disclosed my biases, you might wonder why I was watching that program in the first place. For starters, I read the book that spawned the television series when I was young. All of eleven or twelve years old if that. I reread the book a few years later when I was in college. By that time, I was a history freak so I wasn’t convinced by what I was reading. The so-called hard and fast evidence I found so fascinating as a tween wasn’t nearly as persuasive to a young adult with a significant background in ancient and medieval history.

Fast forward to the present when I thought it amused me to see just how far these “experts” were willing to twist the history I’m so familiar with in their quest to “prove” some off-the-wall theory of the week by rewriting history in a deceptive manner. I wasn’t amused. I was disturbed. For one thing, you can’t accurately interpret what an ancient artist was trying to portray when viewing an ambiguous picture or petroglyph through twenty-first century eyes. Nobody can.

That’s true of history in general. You have to consider the historical context of the event or artifact in question when you’re attempting to accurately interpret a discovery. If you don’t, your interpretations are rife with error. Any attempt that show on the History Channel makes towards legitimacy is undone when the “authorities” flip back to their mantra, “Ancient astronaut theorists say yes” instead of supplying any real proof to support their theory. Again, this is nothing new. People have been playing the disinformation game for thousands of years. Take the battle of Kadesh (Qadesh) fought in 1274 BC in modern day Syria. Both the Eqyptian Pharaoh Ramses II and the Hittite Prince Muwatalli II claimed victory. In truth, the battle was so inconclusive the two sides met fifteen years later to sign the first nonaggression pact known to history.

Hopping off that rabbit trail, I’ll get back to the first point I want to make. (My second point will appear in a separate post.) That point is it’s easy to twist history to suit your purposes. Especially in a culture that abandoned learning anything about history years ago. Basically, all anyone has to do is repeat their story long enough and strong enough that people start to believe it. Once that happens, most of the work is done.

The History Channel has done that and done it well. Back in 1995 when the HC started, it quickly became my favorite channel. I watched their history programs nonstop. Some of their programming was great; some not so great. Having a history degree, I knew the difference. The archeologists starring in the questionable programs tried to prove their pet theory with differing degrees of success. I still watched and enjoyed these programs for what they were. Mainly entertainment. However, I didn’t believe most of what I saw because the supporting proof usually wasn’t there when I dug deeper into the information they presented.

While I loved watching the history programs, I watched the UFO and cryptozoology programs gradually bleeding into the history programming as well. Again, the programs were interesting; but, not wholly convincing. Over the years, the history programs started disappearing as reality shows and UFO/UAP themed shows began to dominate the channel. They still do as we’ve gone from a world that viewed aliens and alien abduction with a degree of skepticism to a world where political candidates make government disclosure of UFOs part of their platform. Again, believe what you want to believe just as I do; but, television is a powerful influencer. I’ve learned to be careful about what I see and hear.

Once words and images get in your head and your heart they’re hard to get out.

To illustrate that point, I’ll compare Shakespeare’s well-known villain, MacBeth, as he appears in the play with the real man, Bethad mac Findlaich, Mormaer of Moray and King of Scotland. I bet the images you have in your mind of this character bear very little resemblance to the real man. Again, I’m presenting an oversimplified version of a complex story that will never be fully unraveled. You might wonder why I’m using such an off-the-wall example. It’s because this comparison was the basis of a college paper I wrote for a senior level Shakespeare class I was taking at the time. As limited as the historical record was, and still is, on the real MacBeth, I was surprised by what I discovered both back then and now.

You might be, too.

According to Shakespeare’s portrayal, MacBeth was a treacherous, power hungry tyrant who used murder and supernatural means to seize the throne of Scotland. To accomplish his nefarious desires, Macbeth not only consorted with witches; but he stabbed the elderly King Duncan I in his bed before framing the King’s guards for the crime. MacBeth then had anyone he, or his wife, perceived as threats to his rule slaughtered. That included former allies, their wives, and their children. Lady MacBeth was an equally vile character and a major instigator behind her husband’s bloody deeds.

While I’ll give Shakespeare credit for writing his wickedly good tragedy, he doesn’t get full credit for his characterization of MacBeth. Some of the credit goes to the writers of at least two popular histories circulating at the time: Holinshed’s Chronicles (1577, 1587) and Hector Boece’s Scotorum Historia (1527). Holinshed’s account was written more to please James VI of Scotland, a descendant of Malcolm III, than with any intent to record history accurately. Using legendary sources and romanticizing history to curry favor with the powers that be wasn’t an unusual practice in the past, and it isn’t an unusual practice today. That’s one reason you never accept what you read without doing your research including rigorously vetting your sources.

While there is some supposition in the real MacBeth’s life story, there is a lot we do know from sources like the Annals of Ulster which is generally accepted as being historically accurate. We do know both MacBeth and King Duncan I had legitimate claims to the throne of Alba (Scotland) through their mothers. We also know MacBeth’s father, Findlaech mac Ruaidri, Mormaer of Moray, was killed by his own people again according to The Annals of Ulster.

This is generally taken to mean he was most likely killed by his nephews, Malcolm of Moray and Gillecomgan. Or, possibly, by MacBeth himself. Considering both of Findlaech’s nephews assumed the title of Mormaer back to back after his death, my money is on one or both of them being the murderers. The reason I believe that is MacBeth was around fifteen at the time of Findlaech’s death in 1020. He didn’t have any reason to murder his father for a title he’d eventually get anyway.

Fast forward to 1032 when MacBeth may have been responsible for the death of Gillecomgan the current Mormaer of Moray. If it wasn’t him, the other suspect is Duncan I. Whether MacBeth was guilty or not, he assumed the title of Mormaer of Moray, married Gillecomgan’s widow, Gruoch, and adopted his son, Lulach, as his heir. Considering Gruoch was the granddaugher of Kenneth III, King of Alba (Scotland), marrying her only strengthened MacBeth’s claim to the throne.

None of that sounds like a man who murdered his father to take his title to me. It sounds more like someone who killed his father’s murderer to claim what was rightfully his. All of which happened frequently during the Middle Ages. Again, that’s my take and an oversimplified retelling of a complex situation. I’ll leave it at that

Moving back to Shakespeare’s play and the real MacBeth, he never murdered anyone in their bed. Duncan I (King of Alba) was 39 when he launched an attacked into MacBeth’s lands and died for his trouble. The men of Moray led by MacBeth killed Duncan during the battle at Bothnagowan in August of 1040. MacBeth then assumed the title of King of Alba with no known resistance. He had a relatively peaceful reign that lasted from 1040 to 1057. That doesn’t mean he wasn’t attacked or that he didn’t surrender territory; he did. However, in spite of some turbulence, his reign was stable enough for MacBeth and his wife to make a pilgrimage to Rome in 1050.

I think reading about this pilgrimage made the biggest impression on me. I realized if MacBeth felt confident enough in his rulership to leave Scotland for the six months or so it would have taken him to make a round trip to Rome, he didn’t fear usurpation in a time when usurpation was the name of the game. That indicated to me that he was neither a tyrant nor a weak leader. He had a certain degree of respect among his people. If that wasn’t true, he wouldn’t have gone to Pope Leo IX’s Papal Jubilee and left himself open to a coup.

However, MacBeth’s leadership was eventually challenged, as it had to be. That challenger was Malcolm Canmore (Malcolm III), one of Duncan’s sons, exactly as you’d expect. And, exactly as you’d expect in that turbulent time, MacBeth’s kingship ended as it began. On a battlefield. In 1057, MacBeth was killed at the Battle of Lumphanan by the future King Malcolm III. Lulach succeeded his stepfather as King of Alba for a few months before he died in battle against Malcolm who assumed the throne as Malcolm III in 1058.

From what I discovered during my past and present research, the real MacBeth was considered anything but a tyrant according to near contemporary sources. The Duan Albanach, a version of which was recorded during the reign of Malcolm III, refers to MacBeth as “Mac Bethad the renowned.” Strengthening the case that MacBeth was a respected leader is the fact he was buried on Iona where only the rightful Kings of Scotland were buried.

Wrapping this up, I’m going to make a fairly sweeping statement. Whether I’m right or I’m wrong, I think most people who know who MacBeth was believe Shakespeare’s version. That the man was a vile, blood thirsty murderer willing to slay anyone standing in his way. Even innocent women and children. While MacBeth was no angel, he wasn’t that character. That description fits his relative Malcolm II better in my opinion. In a time when the kingship usually went from brother to brother, Malcolm II insured the kingship went from him to his grandson (he had no sons, only daughters) by killing off as many rival claimants as he could. Somehow, he missed MacBeth.

So, in conclusion, from the evidence available, I believe MacBeth was a man of his time. Although he was the King of Scotland, he wasn’t the only king in Scotland in the 11th century. Nor was he the only man with a legitimate claim to the throne of Scotland. There were several players waiting in the wings to seize his throne, legitimate and not. The raw truth is most of the Kings of Scotland at this time didn’t die in their sleep. They were murdered, assassinated, or killed on the battlefield. That’s just a fact of life. Most warriors lived by the sword and they died by the sword. The real MacBeth was definitely a warrior.

As nutty as this post is in some respects, I believe I’ve made the point that it’s fairly easy to rewrite history of every kind. It always has been. Even in the days of cuneiform and hieroglyphs. If that’s true, and it is, I hope you realize how easy it is to do just that in a time when technology and social media rule the day.

Until next time,

Calla

General · observations

Just thinking…Sometimes that’s a dangerous thing.

Tori LennoxLeave a comment

As I sit here waiting for the day I return to work, my thoughts are wandering all over the place. The U.S. is slowly opening back up and none of us really know what’s going to happen. We have all these people giving us “educated guesses” and theories. Since I’m not living in fear, I don’t really care about what could happen. I care about keeping myself and the people I’m around as safe as possible so I’m going to stick with the masks and the gloves for a while. There’s something to be said for respecting a killer you can’t see.

In spite of my actions, I’m only so safe and I know it. The truth is I’m greatly impacted by how the people around me choose to live their lives. I live in a smaller town in Florida, and from what I see, most of the general public have abandoned even minimal precautions in favor of going back to the normal they’ve always known. No masks, no real distancing, and no caution. It’s the same old same old and it’s troubling to me. I’m not talking about the stores and businesses. They’re doing their best to be safe. I’m talking about their patrons. Don’t get me wrong, I’m as ready as the next person to put all of this behind me. To be “wild and free.” Right, I’m ready to come and go as I please, say “Hi!” to a stranger, hug my elderly Mom, and shop without gloves. Simple things; but, oh, so important in my day-to-day life.

Honestly, I’ve done better through this whole lockdown experience than I thought I would. For one thing, I’ve picked my battles and only fought the ones I could win. I can’t win against the coronavirus and I’m not going to try. I’m going to do what I need to do and thank God I’m healthy. For another, I’ve walked three or four miles in the sunshine almost every day in areas where I have minimal to no contact with other people. Just being able to appreciate the trees and animals goes a long way towards restoring my peace of mind. It’s my prayer time and it works. It’s also my thinking time.

What’s important about my thinking time is things come to me I haven’t thought about in years. I’m a small town girl in my mid-fifties who’s lived through a lot of “stuff.” Part of that stuff was the beginning of the HIV/AIDS epidemic. Here we are thirty plus years into living with HIV in all it’s various incarnations and it’s just an unpleasant reality. We think we know all there is to know about the disease including how to manage and prevent it. Life goes on and everybody has sex with whomever they please, however they please. People still get sick; but, for the most part we treat it. Yes, I know that’s and over-simplification. But, I don’t think most of us spend a significant part of our lives thinking about AIDS anymore like we did in the past. One day, given time, Coronavirus will be the same.

However, back in the day (the early to mid 1980’s) when I was a teen-aged college student attending a small town University in rural South Carolina, things were different. We were just learning about a wicked, incurable disease that was breaking on the scene with a vengeance. By the time we were reading the magazine/newspaper articles introducing the horrors of the disease in terms of mass destruction, HIV was already known in Africa and big cities like New York and London. Where I lived, we were years behind the times.

I remember being horrified by what I read. Yes, I knew there were incurable diseases out there like cancer and I knew people died from everyday diseases like the flu. But, sexually transmitted diseases were embarrassing situations that didn’t cause serious problems unless they weren’t treated. Most people didn’t die from them. Let me say at the time I’m talking about I lived at home with over protective parents so I wasn’t in any danger of contracting this new, 100% fatal disease and, supposedly, none of my friends and acquaintances were either. Right.

At the time I learned about HIV it was called AIDS and it was only found among drug users, in the homosexual community, or in Africa. I’m not being a homophobe or discriminating against anyone. I’m telling you what was believed in the early days. We didn’t know you could get it by blood transfusion or that babies could be infected through the birth canal. A lot of vile things were said and done in the name of ignorance and mean-spiritedness. Even where I lived. Years later, we figured out our theories and suppositions weren’t right. Unfortunately, before we did, there were people out there knowingly and unknowingly committing murder by disease because they’d become infected through heterosexual sex which wasn’t considered risky behavior in the early days. There still are.

Sounds a little like Coronavirus doesn’t it? We don’t really know anything about the disease. Not like we will in a few months and years. However, we’re still being told things like you probably won’t get it if you’re young and healthy. While that may be true for the most part, it isn’t true for everyone. If you don’t believe that, just watch the Social Media posts by the Spring Breakers who partied on our Florida beaches a few weeks ago. Several of those youngsters ended up on the Internet warning anyone who would listen that that wasn’t necessarily true and they were now suffering with disease.

All I can say at this point is we have to resume our lives and we have to get back to work. We just need to do it with wisdom and consideration for the people around us. Here in America, a lot of us tend to think more in terms of what I want and less in terms of how my actions might impact others. That’s not necessarily evil. It’s human nature. Self-preservation is built into us and thank God it is. Most of us wouldn’t survive to adulthood if it wasn’t.

However, as we go forward, my hope and prayer is that we navigate this chaotic new world unfolding with generous dispositions, cautious joy, and a degree of wisdom we might not normally employ. Stay safe, enjoy your life, and know we will get through this. This isn’t the first pandemic the world has weathered and it won’t be the last. There truly is nothing new under the sun…Just experiences that are new to us.

Until next time.

Calla

Been There, Done That · Been There, Done That Part 2 · Life in general · writing

Taking The Next Step

Tori LennoxLeave a comment

As you already know, I’m living under the same stay-at-home-order so many of us are trying to handle. How you choose to deal with this unfamiliar, unpleasant “brave new world” is up to you. Personally, I’m trying to stay safe, keep others safe, pick battles I can win, and be at peace with the insanity I can’t change. Sometimes that’s hard; but, I can’t be content if I don’t try. So, I try, and when I fail, I try again.

I don’t have a choice. No. There’s always a choice. I don’t give myself a choice. There are so many unknowns right now. So many scenarios we need to handle carefully with a degree of wisdom and prudence not everyone possesses. Myself included. We’re living through something none of us have experienced in our lives and it’s hard. Crippling if we let it. This whole situation is like that recurring nightmare you can’t quite escape. The one you have night after night until you either deal with it or decide you don’t want to sleep any more. The big difference is we will escape this one eventually. It will end. We might have to modify our lives for a while; but, we can do it. We’ve done it before. Throughout the life of this country.

If you don’t know I’m speaking truth, look up the real history of this country. Not the Revisionist history that’s taught today if it’s taught at all. Yes, we’ve done bad things in the past. Every culture has. But, that doesn’t negate the fact this country was settled by strong people who fought through bad situations. I’m speaking of both the Native Americans and the European settlers. Both had to roll with a lot of tough situations they couldn’t control. Yet, they persevered.

We can do the same today. If we’re willing to do what it takes. Whether we accomplish that goal or not is up to us as individuals. For me, that’s where prayer comes in. I pray our leaders, all of them, act with wisdom. I pray we the people act with wisdom and consideration for others. That isn’t the easiest thing to do. Where I am, I see a lot of people acting foolishly. When I do go out, I stay as far from everyone as possible. I wear my mask and my gloves. Not just to protect myself and my Mom. To protect the people who don’t protect themselves. The flip side of that coin is when I go walking in my neighborhood I pass a few people here and there along the way. We always wave or smile silently acknowledging each other in passing as we maintain social distancing. I respect those people for being responsible as we all should be.

As I write this blog, I realize I sound like a person I’m really not. I’m not a cheerleader. I can be when I need to be; but, that persona is foreign to my more introverted, scholarly demeanor. However, I’ll admit I’m writing this post as much for myself as for my readers. I could struggle with depression if I allowed it. I won’t. If you’ve read Been There, Done That…you know I spent most of my life in self-loathing and depression. I refuse to go two steps forward and ten steps back. I refuse to be that person again. When I find myself slipping, I cry out to God and give myself a swift mental kick in the rear. I remind myself I’m not “her” anymore and I have positive things to do.

Like writing the next book in the Been There Series. It started downloading yesterday the way it should be. I’m just starting; but, the flow is natural which is everything. If I can’t write in an open, honest way that touches the heart, I shouldn’t write. It doesn’t matter whether I’m writing a novel or my life story. Again, this book will be part two of my life story. It’s dealing with my dabbling in the Occult. I’m not really interested in writing about how wrong that is from a religious standpoint. I’m more interested in exploring how what I was doing and believing preyed on my weaknesses and fed my self-loathing. How I thought I was controlling my life when I was, in reality, being controlled. That’s all I can really say at this point since I’m just starting the book.

Anyways, I’ve said enough for now. Somewhere back around my first blog, I admitted I would go all over the place in my posts and I think this one shows I have. In reality, unless I’m focusing on writing a book, my thoughts are all over the place. I’m fifty-five; but, there’s a part of me that will always be that little child chasing butterflies that light here and there only to move on to the next flower in the blink of an eye. I tend to flit from subject to subject absorbing as much as I can before I move on. I’ve finally accepted that’s who I am just as I’ve finally accepted I’m a legitimate author even if I haven’t been published by a major publishing house. Not yet. But, I believe that’s coming.

Until next time,

Calla

Life in general · writing

Best Laid Plans…

Tori LennoxLeave a comment

It seems like the universe is continually conspiring against me getting this blog going the way I’ve promised. It isn’t. It’s just life with it’s ups and downs. Since I last updated, my Mom had a mild stroke in the middle of March and made a miraculous recovery. However, she couldn’t stay alone once she was released from the hospital. That meant I had to come home temporarily. My job wouldn’t give me paid family leave since my Mom is actually my ex-mother-in-law I’ve lived with for the past thirteen years. I understood; so, I elected to use my vacation instead of taking an unpaid leave. Not ideal; but, workable. Again, things were stacking up; but, they didn’t seem insurmountable. Not yet.

In the midst of this mess, the world got Covid-19. Like most of us, that led to a whole new can of worms for me. Things like my hours got cut at work before I took my leave, my paid vacation suddenly became unpaid furlough when our hours were cut even more, and finally my employer closed temporarily due to a stay at home order for all non-essentials. Like millions of other Americans, I suddenly found myself with no income struggling to get through to unemployment for weeks with little success.

Anyways, if the world’s current craziness wasn’t enough, my Mom had a sudden, serious Potassium crash on Sunday. She ended up back in the hospital until they got her stabilized enough to come home. I brought her home late Tuesday afternoon. She’s slowly recovering her strength and doing well. However, I’m having to do far more for her temporarily than I did before this happened. So, once again, my time isn’t my own.

In the midst of all of this, I did try to write three blogs. I failed miserably. I just didn’t have anything positive or edifying to say. I do now. As much as it sounds like I’m complaining, I’m not. I just want you to know I’m writing from the same kind of challenges so many of us are suffering at the moment. As overwhelming as the last five weeks have been, a lot of good has come out of it.

First off, all things considered, my Mom is doing wonderfully. I finally got the overflowing “junk” room otherwise known as our den/living room restored to it’s former pre-renovation glory. I cleared the garage of unnecessary “garbage” and neatened it up. I replaced the box springs on my bed Hurricane Allie destroyed as a puppy. While my bedroom isn’t fully set up, it’s getting there. So, like the people in my neighborhood working on their yards, I’m slowly getting things accomplished. Just inside instead of out. I’m also taking care of my Mom until she can take care of herself again.

Added to all that, I finally got around to editing and reposting a contemporary romance I’d posted on Amazon a couple of years ago and pulled down. It needed a serious overhaul for a lot of reasons. I also found my cd’s with all the novels I’ve started/completed over the years when I was packing up my old bedroom. The significance of this is I lost all of that work when my computer crashed unexpectedly six years ago. I thought I’d lost twenty years of work forever. While I kept the hard drive, I haven’t had the extra money laying around to pay someone to see if it was possible to retrieve any of my work.

I still thought all was lost even after I found the cds. In a dumb moment I started to toss them since my last two computers didn’t have built-in cd readers anymore. Thankfully, I didn’t. I bought an external cd reader instead. Honestly, I’d forgotten they even made those things until I started to throw those cds away for the second time. Fortunately I remembered reading about external readers when they were just coming out. I don’t think I put two and two together because I’d forgotten I’d made those backup cd’s years ago before Cloud and the like existed.

Thanks to resisting two “stupid moments” I now have a completed historical romance to edit plus three other novels in the series to complete. I also have a completed romantic suspense I’m going to edit and submit to a major publishing house. That one was a third place finalist in a Romance Writers of America contest a few years ago so it’s worth submitting after a good edit. I also have several other historical novels in various states of completion on those discs – seven or eight novels total. I’m still pinching myself to make sure this really happened. It did.

I guess the whole point and purpose of this blog is to say hold on and don’t give up hope. Good things are happening in the midst of all the trauma and drama. Grab a hold of those little things that give you joy. Appreciate your family and your pets. Appreciate having too much time for a change. Know this will end and things will get better in time. Find the little positives and cling to them when all of this seems too much. If you’re a person of faith, don’t lose it. God knows what we’re going through. While my journey through years of a personal hell brought me back to the Christianity of my youth, everyone’s journey is their own. I respect that.

The point of this blog is to say stay strong, cling to the little things, don’t lose hope, keep fighting, and we’ll persevere in the end.

Calla

General Quirkiness

As I Sit Here Waiting for Dorian to Pass…

Tori LennoxLeave a comment

I’ve had a productive day. I worked on customizing this site and did a little work on my author’s page for my non-fic. Everything is still a work in progress for me. I also downloaded the contemporary romance I pulled off of Amazon a long time ago for a rewrite. The idea is good, the story needs serious work. I knew that when I put it out there. I needed a test subject to toss out there to learn how the whole process worked so I produced one. This book showed me a lot of what not to do as well as a lot I needed to know. Now, it’s time to give the story new life and make it what it should have been the first time around.

I also gave the fur babies a bath which doesn’t sound like much. Right, tell that one to the Princess. Hurricane Alley hates baths.

“Bath…I don’t think so.”
“I’d rather stink!”

As usual, I had to grab her, toss her in the shower stall, and close the glass door before she knew what was happening. If I hadn’t, she would have dived under the bed for the next few hours and, no, I can’t get her out of there. The bed’s too low. Anyhow, I tricked her and committed high treason in Allie’s opinion.

After the deed was done, I laid her on grandma’s lap swathed in nice, soft towels where she lay for the next hour in a semi-catatonic, traumatized state. Right. Where she lay playing her betrayal for all it was worth. It didn’t matter she smelled and felt better. In her eyes, I was Poopy Mama and she wanted nothing to do with me. Forget the puppy kisses, she wouldn’t even look at me.

Her brother isn’t nearly the drama queen. Not about baths anyway. He likes them. In fact, he waits impatiently for his turn while his sissy is getting tortured. My only problem with Stinky is he likes to stick his nose under the shower stream. Maybe he likes to hear himself snort. I don’t really know. I do know he likes to “dance” when his bath is done. Don’t ask. It involves a lot of cheek on the rug, heinie in the air moves that make him happy. I can’t argue with that.



“Who cares if I’m flipping my bed…It’s bath time!”

As I’ve already said, it’a been a productive day. In between the computer work and washing the dogs, I managed to finish the laundry and put it away. I also squeezed a two and a half mile walk in before dark. While it was pleasantly windy when I began, dark clouds started rolling in before I got home. Dorian is starting to make his presence known. Since I don’t know what will happen over the next day or so, I’m not sure when I’ll update again. Soon, I’m sure.

In the interim, I have a book to rewrite and web pages to design so I’ll be busy whether I have electricity or not.

Until next time,

Calla

Been There, Done That · General

Some adults still wonder why the sky is blue…

Tori LennoxLeave a comment

Even when we know the answer, and I’m one of them!

Right now, I’m sitting here contemplating my recent decision to self-publish my book, Been There, Done That…Had the Smashed Up Face to Prove It. Not because I think I’ve made a bad decision. I don’t. After thoroughly researching what’s required to get an agent to even consider looking at my query package, I realized I’d be doing most of the work to promote my book upfront before anyone ever sees my query. If that wasn’t enough to sway me in the other direction, discovering the percentage of new authors who never make a dime from their work after getting published by a major publishing house finished the job . So, if I’m happy with my decision to put my memoir on Amazon, you might wonder what’s left to contemplate.

Only the death of a life-long dream.

I’ve dreamed of being published by a major publishing house for most of my life. I came close a couple of times; but, it wasn’t right either time. My first whiff-of-success came when an editor at one of the two major publishing houses requested the manuscript for my first historical romance. The first whiff of defeat came when I received my first official rejection letter. Unfortunately, my manuscript got caught in a shift in writing styles that wasn’t apparent until the next years’ crop of books came out. While that door wasn’t totally shut in my face, I was told to rewrite the whole 150,000 word manuscript, resubmit it, and I might make it back to an editors desk. In my youthful arrogance, I wouldn’t do it. I wasn’t compromising my writing style. Right. Dumb decision. I should have compromised away. Once I got my foot solidly in the door, I could have probably done my own thing to a certain degree.

The second time I had a shot at making it with the same manuscript was a couple of years later when I sent the book out to three well-known agents looking for new clients. I didn’t expect anything to come from it or I probably wouldn’t have sent my book out when I did. I was mainly looking for a diversion from the fact my Mom had just passed away from Cancer at the age of fifty-one. Waiting to hear from agents seemed as good a distraction as any so I took the leap. I was thirty-two at the time and I’d spent the past five years editing that book off and on. The manuscript had lost about 30,000 words along the way and I was proud of it.

When the responses came back, I received some fantastic compliments I wasn’t expecting. However, I didn’t get the representation I was seeking. Or I thought I didn’t. I was disappointed enough at the time to shelf the book and my writing for a while. Actually, real life more or less sapped my desire to write for a few years. It didn’t kill it. Just delayed the creativity. About the time my life settled and my interest in writing returned, I found the letter one of those agents sent me after my Mom died. To both my pleasure and my horror, I read a couple of sentences I’d missed the first time around and shook my head over the foolish girl I’d been. Not just once; but, twice.

While the beginning of that letter was undeniably a rejection, this well-known agent had ended her letter telling me if I’d fix a significant word-processing error in my manuscript she’d gladly represent me. Not only that, she was sure she could get me a contract. As much as I cringe thinking about that today, I wasn’t in any frame of mind to honor any contract she might have gotten me, so missing her offer was probably for the best.

Sadly, the world of publishing has changed greatly from the one I knew a couple of decades ago. I’ve spent the past couple of years trying to understand this strange new animal and I’ve reached the conclusion the best way to learn is to just do it. Put the book out there. Learn to blog. Learn the whole social media thing I’ve tried to ignore. Write my second non-fic. Throw a romance or two in the mix, slowly get my name out there, and build my following. In the end, all that really matters is I’m doing what I enjoy.

So, my final conclusion is, if I can do that…the dream hasn’t really died.

Calla MacKenna