The Snore Of Destiny Part Quatre.

The glow weave shirt, the nice pants and boots, the teeth brushed thrice. We're going to the surgeon today...

again...

fuck...

***

It's numbing, sitting here in the waiting room, ruminating over the fact that I'm here again. After 18 months, I'm back to square one. I've feel as though I have not advanced a centimeter. I've merely turned a circle. 

I'm reminded of a bee I saw a few days ago whilst out for a bike ride with my daughter. It was turning a circle on the kerbside. I guess it must have slapped into a passing car and, somehow, survived the impact. There it was, turning this futile circle, probably brain damaged, unable to do anything else. I feel a sense of camaraderie with that bee in this moment. 

Futility. Damage. 

I feel I've reached a point where I feel as though things seem irreparable, and no amount of surgical 'tinkering' will get me back to that state where everything just worked. 

I fear sleep because every time I lay down, I wonder if this is going to be the night when I drown in my own fluids? 

I fear speech because of the crass stares I get when my voice begins to fail & it looks as if I'm going to throw up. I see how they look at me. It's a mix of incredulity and disgust. They take a step or two back, fearful of being in the firing line. 

I look at food with ambivalence because I can't taste it, or smell it. I can't smell a flower, or register the scent of Chanel on my wife's skin. There's no olfactory pleasure - just an occasional 'meaty' nothing taste on my tongue that occasionally hints at something rotting. 

I wonder if that's me? Am I rotting?

It's a curious thought, isn't it.

The waiting room is full. It's a nice space, if a little full. There are lots of people around me. 

I wonder if they're warring with their own minds, the way I am right now?

***

Impairment of the right inferior constrictor and laryngeal muscles related to a neuroma...

Recent increase in dysphagia...

A tendency towards micropenetration/aspiration events...

For modified barium swallow with speech pathology...

***

More study. More intelligence gathering. More planning. 

For what?

DFA.

Life Lessons from the Toilet Exhaust Fan.

Over the weekend, my children experienced the reality of death and dying. There was an awful sound coming from the toilet fan this afternoon. Upon popping the cover, a poor little mouse was hanging, trapped between the blades. My daughter Lucy gasped upon seeing it. But I gasped when I gently tried to extricate it from the fan and it squeaked in desperation, clawing at me to free it. 

It was still alive.

With great care, I was able to get the little critter down and, with Lucy's help we made a little bed for it in a margarine container. The mouse was severely shocked and undoubtedly injured but, as the old saying goes, where there's life, there's hope. Lucy sat with the mouse, cradling the margarine container, weeping softly and asking me if she was going to be alright. I told her I didn't know but if you stay her and let her know you're there, that would be very good. That might help.

After a couple of hours, the dear little mouse, quietly slipped away on her little bed of Kleenex. Lucy said a little prayer and we gently put the lid on the margarine container. We buried it in the garden. 

Life comes and it goes. How each life affects us, makes all the difference.

DFA.

Heaven Revisited - Conversations with Madelaine Standing.

In 2012, I sat down with Vancouver based author Madelaine Standing to discuss her journey both in literature and her spiritual wellness endeavors. Back then, I was struck by her dedication - both to the craft of writing and her desire to promote spiritual healing and wellness through a codified practice.

Every so often, an author appears from out of the cacophony of authors and you just know right away that there is something unique about them - something that you can't quite quantify. There is a magic about them - the way they devote themselves to the craft, the subsequent offerings they present that seem to transcend genres and the enthusiasm which they project in talking about the craft. You just can't help but be encouraged in your own enthusiasm for the craft that we share as authors and you want to share it around as much as you can. 

When I happened across author Madelaine Standing and struck up a conversation about her craft and her life more generally, I was immediately captivated by her spirit, her desire to connect and foster a sense of goodwill in the world. 

Standing describes herself as a writer, but she has embraced so much more onto her palette that is worthy of highlighting. From yoga instruction, to volunteering for charities devoted to women recovering from abuse, Madelaine's accumulated life experience, her vigour and positivity stand out as something really beautiful.

Her journey towards writing began when Madelaine left home at the age of seventeen after completing high school in Florida. She took a left turn by enrolling in a season of acting classes at Lee Strasberg Institute in New York City. Though theatre life was one of intrigue and fun, Madelaine recounts that it wasn't long before she became wrapped up in the world of words written by Anais Nin and Ayn Rand, thanks to her older sister’s suggestion. 

I began travelling down the California coast starting in Santa Cruz, California and I stopped at Santa Barbara for a few months where I took a side route and immersed myself in painting with the locals on the mountainsides.  A writing course at a Northern California Institute of healing and fine arts led me back on the trail of expression through letters.  

Soon after, Madelaine moved to Los Angeles where she lived and worked for an independent movie production company.  

Before too long I was being given scripts to read and study, and eventually report on by writing synopses on them.  When one of  my  feedback points regarding a movie script was incorporated into the movie by the director, I realized then, that I might understand stories more than I was yet to understand. What was especially exciting for me were the occasions when those scripts - with my contributions - made it into the notable Cannes Marketplace. I felt a further sense that writing was where my future lay.

A year later while living in the Midwest in between European travels with extended family, Madelaine began to explore her own way with words.  

My first attempts were comical, both to myself and to those close to me who were reading them, but that did not deter me. Through perseverance over the next six years, writing notebooks atop notebooks of ideas and stories I came to understand that writing, for the strong of will, is a gift that can be nurtured, thought it may not be first nature at the start.

Creative Writing classes at Emily Carr Art Institute and University of British Columbia with Paul Belserene, in addition to the course taken in Northern California, helped give her a basis for the craft of novel writing.  Books by Steven King, Betsy Lerner and others also gave her a great deal of insight along the way and from these seemingly separate threads a tapestry was beginning to weave itself together, forming the direction that Madelaine was destined to take - the destination being her first novel.

In Croatia and the United States I wrote the first draft of what is now Heaven in the Meat Packing District, my debut novel.  My travels, my love for humanity and the natural environment have fuelled me and continue to do so in my creative process.

Heaven in the Meat Packing District  follows a neuro-scientist named Sheldon as he attempts to rewire the counterproductive patterns in the brains of willing volunteers who have been recruited from the Meat Packing District of New York. When the experiments go awry, newscaster, Ana McKenna, is asked to develop a way to rescue the unconscious volunteers by way of her involvement in a top secret news story at the local station.

As the title suggests, the novel is set in the Meat Packing District of Manhattan. It is a thought-provoking piece in the sense that it invites readers to explore the environmental challenges of our day, but it is also highly-entertaining - as attested to by its accumulated readership thus far.

I wrote the book on the premise that readers are given the opportunity to delve into the world unseen that well-written fiction offers, while the book also encourages readers to consider their individual place within the world.  I hope people will leave the book upon completion with the sense that they are a unique human being, as well as the notion that there is still so much more for us as a collective community to wonder about when we step out the front door in the morning and look around.

Madelaine's literary achievement has continued this year with the release of her new novel "Jail or Garden". Similar in style to "Heaven in the Meat Packing District", Madelaine's new novel can be described as a uniquely drawn coming of age tome in which her protagonist, Tova, embarks on a journey of discovery that will change her life in profound ways.

Tova’s mad dash into the world begins two weeks before turning eighteen. She moves from the broiling sun of Florida to the State of Virginia where she seeks to uncover the truth about her late brother’s death. Tova finds refuge at a farm that is held under city-inspection for its defiance to stick to the rules.

Featuring Madelaine's signature lyricism, "Jail or Garden" is an emotional gripping tale of self discovery featuring uniquely drawn characters, sumptuous setting and an involving journey for the reader. It is very easy to be drawn into the world Madelaine has created through her artistic voice. 

Outside of her writing, Madelaine lives in Vancouver, British Columbia where she balances her career as an author with study, learning and teaching holistic arts such as varying types of Yoga, Meditation, Pilates, Life Exploration, and Reiki.  Looking from the outside in, one might wonder how she manages two professions of such contrast.  She explains how they effortlessly balance one another.

Hours of sitting at the writing desk, glued to my computer, leave me needing to not only meet up with community, but also to move! And, vice versa, so much time spend outward, socializing, and helping others through the craft and vehicle of the healing arts, leaves me needing to go within. Be still. Reflect, and then express the discoveries that arrive from having done so.

In re-visiting Madelaine here in October 2013, Madelaine's commitment to spiritual wellness and healing is now bearing fruit. Just this month, Madelaine launched her business enterprise Steady Stream Wellness. Madelaine describes Steady Stream Wellness as a suite of well-being offerings ranging from Yoga, Pilates, Meditation, Life-Empowerment Classes, Narrative Therapy Sessions, and Healing Thai Yoga Bodywork on the bio-mat. The true genius of the idea behind Steady Stream Wellness lies in its commitment to bring Health and Wellness to your front door - serving clients in the comforting environment of home. 

When I first featured Madelaine, I remarked at the time that, as an author, she cannot be pegged into any particular genre. Her unique approach to life and writing are as interesting and diverse as any author I've encountered. Her commitment to spiritual healing and wellness further defines her as human being for whom creativity and spiritual nourish one another. 

She is all kinds of beautiful.

Visit Steady Stream Wellness here.

Connect with Madelaine here.

Purchase Heaven in the Meat Packing District here.

Purchase Jail or Garden here.

DFA.

Join Dean's Pozible Project to have Gifts of the Peramangk reviewed by Kirkus 
(click through below).

The View From The Tier - Conversations With Tania Elizabeth.

The wealth of talented emerging Australian voices in writing is something that I am consistently encouraged by. Australia remains a somewhat fickle market for the embrace of new authors so it is great to see that, with the shifts taking place across publishing, new voices are able to find an audience and likewise connect with that audience. From within those ranks, have emerged exquisite people who I have had the pleasure of getting to know and who, I believe, deserve to be shared. 

Queensland based author Tania Elizabeth is one such writer and person whose journey has captivated me and is well worth sharing.

I first met Tania Elizabeth over a couple of extended Twitter conversations which we exchanged dialogue about our mutual love of words and creativity and it has since blossomed into a friendship that I count among my most important. Tania has a serendipitous outlook on life. She exudes positivity and encouragement and often shares insights that come from a place of harmony within herself. And yet Tania's journey has been one of full experience, filled with its share of trials, challenges and setbacks alongside the triumphs and successes. She is, perhaps, one of the most complete human beings I've yet encountered.  

Tania was born in a little mining town called Dysart in Central Queensland, though she spent much of her childhood in Cairns that flanks the Great Barrier Reef in Northern Queensland. She recalls fostering a burgeoning imaginative streak very early on - helped in no small part by her father - and she counts this as one of the key touchstones that defined her and the person she would become.

I spent many weekends in the sprawling countryside and the lush Rainforests of the Atherton Tablelands where I would loose myself in my imagination. My siblings and cousins in were equally imaginative beings and together we revelled in childhood adventures of our own design. My father, Lionel was instrumental in enlightening me on how to meditate and understand the sagacity of energy - how it was possible to manipulate energy for the simple fact that we are entirely energy entities.

That focus on energy and the encouragement to explore expression through performance, the childhood Tania discovered dance at age 5 and initially, she revelled in the artform. The innocence of youth however, gave way to the harsher realities of growing up. Through the exploration of herself through dance Tania developed a competitive streak, a focus on achievement that was, at times, unforgiving and this had unanticipated consequences for her.

Somewhere around age 11, the competitive side of me began to take over and it wasn't too long before I allowed aspects of my ego to overwhelm. This drive to achieve, to succeed was uncompromising and it led me to some pretty dark places. I struggled with anorexia and bulimia for several years - along with all the psychological challenges those two entities hand you. There was an overwhelming sense of self loathing and hatred, guilt and depression that became all consuming. The path that I found myself on was one that was incredibly hard to get off and it became incredibly damaging.

As Tania emerged from adolescence, she came to the attention of a modelling agency, who saw potential in the natural beauty of the young Queenslander.

I was actually approached by the agency and, for a girl who had come to believe that looks were such a big part of who I was, I saw it as a very big compliment. 

Her career in modelling saw Tania's image reach a global audience and for several years she enjoyed significant success in her new career. But underneath the beauty and the glamour, Tania admits she remained lost and that for the longest time she wasn't happy in the profession. However, there was one bright spark that remained her companion right throughout these years. 

My writing truly was my catharsis and it was often what got me through the days. My pen and notebooks had been my only true companion, going right back to those early childhood days. It was a creative outlet that I secretly nurtured - perhaps without realizing it. For so long, all those who knew me, knew a version of me based upon who I thought they required me to be. I found it easier to function by keeping a mask on, rather than have others see the pain within.

The paradigm shift for Tania, came through experiencing something of an awakening which, in turn, lead her to take a pro-active role in redefining herself and in fact rediscovering her true self.

It was just after my 30th birthday, when I felt this need for a wholesale shift. I felt a need to open myself to the possibility of a higher self concept. This was something that had tried to peep through the cracks on several occasions throughout my adulthood, although it was challenged many time by my somewhat stubborn ego. Yet - during this particular year, I was not going to ignore it - the desire to seek out a more divine concept of self - any longer. By chance, my sister in law loaned me a book and really encouraged me to read it. The book became a doorway to the life-altering awakening I had been seeking. By the end of 2011, I was able to say for the first time in my life - and actually mean it - “I LOVE ME!”

Tania, also counts this as the touchstone moment that gave rise to what has become her debut novel "The Tier Of Eternal Grace - The Moon Clearing". It has been a project that is as much about "unpacking the box" of her life to date but doing it by channelling her creative forces into a magical piece of fiction that draws upon elements of fantasy, metaphysics, eroticism and rich world creation. The result is a luminescent novel that bristles with Tania's signature imagination and unique writing style.

The guff on the "Tier Of Eternal Grace" is thus;

"She Lives of Heart through Battles of Mind"

“I have existed always! Where I began I do not know, for all I know is just as I am today!”

As Queen of Eterna Fadas, Tatiana was thought to have lived a life of opulence, her faith and beliefs her endearing essence. Why then was it so, that beneath the picture of perfection laid torments and terrors even she dare not explain. Being She came with its prices paid. Being She came with a deal; a contract in which she was to relinquish herself to a rogue of unmerciful fury. Would this be the end of all she ever know? Would this be the end of her existence?"

Tania Elizabeth has woven a tapestry that draws together classic elements of fantasy and adventure and has infused her tome with an electricity, a sensuality and hints of eroticism that make for an intoxicating blend of story telling. This is a book to savour with richly drawn characters who occupy a lush, dream like world, vivid in its description and accessible in its execution. The world of Eterna Fadas works on all five sensory levels and Tania's ability to tap into the reader's imagination and draw from it a tableaux that reflects that world before you is a considerable achievement. Equally, Tania's cast, lead by the enigmatic and sensual Tatiana rise from the page - living and breathing vividly as the story progresses. They intoxicate and stimulate as their respective arcs play out. Tatiana, herself is compelling in that she is, in many ways, an avatar of the author herself - resplendent in all of the accumulated experience of Tania's journey through life thus far.

The Tier of Eternal Grace as a literary piece, works on a number of levels and it is an beautiful achievement for an author who has strived to operate on another level with respect to her story telling. There are classic elements with the tome along with similarly fashioned archetypes but Tania takes these to new and exciting places that are thought provoking and refreshing. To say that this book is genre bending is, perhaps, selling it short. "The Tier of Eternal Grace - The Moon Clearing" is a unique work that will stand with subsequent instalments of what will be an eventual three book cycle as magical literary achievement.

As part of the release of the book, Tania has married it to a cause that is very close to her heart. 

The Starlight Children’s Foundation transforms the experience of hospitalisation and treatment for seriously ill children and their families - Starlight is the only children’s charity with a permanent , physical presence in very major paediatric hospital in the country.

Tania is a passionate advocate for the Starlight Children’s Foundation. Being a mother herself and having seen first-hand what these children experience on a day to day basis, with such strength and courage, Tania felt the need to not only donate her time, but to also help raise much needed funds.

Every minute of every day a child is admitted to hospital in Australia. For thousands of these children what happens next is the diagnosis of a serious or chronic illness that changes their life, and the lives of their families, forever.

This is where Starlight steps in – delivering a range of innovative programs, built on the World Health Organisation’s social model of health, to support the well-being and resilience of these seriously ill children and their families.

Starlight programs are integral to the total care of seriously ill children – while the health professionals focus on treating the illness, Starlight is there to lift the spirits of the child – giving them the opportunity to laugh and play and be a child again.

Tania has made it her mission to donate to the cause via the marketing efforts surrounding her novel and as such, her feature here will contribute to that. 

Tania Elizabeth as an author, writes with a dedication to her style and her imagination that yields rich literary content that transcends audiences and crosses genres. It is artistic and she deserves to be defined as an artist. As a human being, Tania is a rare diamond. Her life experiences, her challenges and her triumphs have all contributed to her discovering her true self and she faces her future serene, peaceful and open to all possibilities.

"You are more powerful than you could possibly ever imagine. Though if you can imagine it and then truly believe in it with not one ounce of a doubt in your mind, then it shall be." 

~ Tania Elizabeth.

Connect with Tania Elizabeth here.

Tweet with Tania Elizabeth here.

Purchase the Tier of Eternal Grace here. 

DFA.

Dreams Of A Love Indestructible (Part Eighteen).

It was somewhere close to 7:30pm as Lionel was closing up the shop for the day when he looked across the street at Soneya's cottage, noticing a light still on in the front window.

He knew instinctively that she must still be there.

“What is it dear?” Ruth inquired, noticing her husband as he lingered by the door.

“Oh...nothing,” Lionel replied sagely. “It looks as though Soneya is putting in another long day”

“That girl is working harder and harder Lionel,” Ruth remarked worriedly, shaking her head as she finished counting out the days take from the register. “It's not healthy for her”

“I know, I know," Lionel agreed wearily. She works much too hard. But it's not our place to tell her what she should and shouldn't be doing”

He rolled his eyes out of view of Ruth. They had had this discussion many times before.

Ruth checked the counter behind her. The two large black soup pots there were still switched on. She hadn't yet emptied them.

“Do you...think you should take a meal across to her Lionel? She would have skipped dinner again. It's not right for someone so busy as her”

Lionel baulked at her suggestion sensing where Ruth's mind was heading.

“Look, I don't think we should go meddling Ruth. She's a very private person – and independent. Soneya doesn't take kindly to any sort of interference”

Ruth had already fetched out a sealable container and was ladling piping hot pumpkin soup into it. She then took a herb bread roll from a nearby basket and warmed it slightly in the microwave.

“Ruth” Lionel intoned malevolently but she brushed him aside.

“Lionel, I'll not have that poor child wasting away in that office all alone at this time of night without at least something nutritious in her belly. She may not be our child but I consider her like our own. I feel an obligation to look out for her”

Ruth gathered up the items – the soup and bread, a coffee, some items of fruit – into a basket and came out from behind the counter.

“Take this over to her darling” she pleaded. “At least encourage her to have something”

Lionel frowned at his wife and shook his head. But he took the basket from her anyway and inspected it's contents.

“Well...I suppose it can't hurt to at least offer," he conceded before levelling his eyes at Ruth. "Just don't you watch me from the window. Soneya has got a sense like a blood hound for nosy neighbours”

Lionel turned on his heel and stepped out of the shop, walking the short distance down the street towards the practice.

Soneya was sitting at her desk before an open laptop – a mountain of paperwork, manilla folders and old invoice slips stacked messily on either side of the machine – when she heard a knock at the door.

“Hello?” Lionel called out.

Soneya smiled at the sound of the familiar voice and glanced up from her screen.

“In here Lionel”

Simon looked up from his basket momentarily then flopped back down, closing his eyes and growling pathetically in the pit of his throat.

Lionel appeared in the doorway holding the basket in both hands and Soneya tilted her head to one side.

“Awww...what have you done?”

Lionel blushed and smiled.

“We, ahh...saw a light on from the shop as we were closing up. Ruth thought you might like something to eat”

Soneya's eyes narrowed with a cheeky grin out of one side of her mouth.

“She knew didn't she – that I would have skipped dinner?”

Lionel nodded as he set the basket down on the chair and and began depositing the items from the basket onto the desk. The smell of the rich homemade soup hit Soneya's nostrils and instantly her stomach grumbled.

“Well...she must be pscyhic. I'm starving” Soneya remarked as she fished her purse out from her desk drawer and began to take some notes out for Lionel.

“Oh no,” Lionel said holding up his hand to stop her. “This one is on us. Consider it...our treat”

Soneya hesitated, eyeing him curiously before closing the purse again and setting it down.

“You didn't have to do this”

“I know” Lionel said. “That's why we did. We can't have you fading away on us. This town needs a lawyer too badly”

Lionel nodded at the chaos on her desk.

“That looks to be quite a...challenge?”

Soneya threw her hands up in mock exasperation then she made some room on the desk so that she could set her meal down.

“I'm trying to organize all of Harry's old clients who've indicated they wanted to come back to me. I want to stream line everything into an electronic system but I can only do it at night though - after hours”

“Have you thought about getting a secretary to help you with all of this? It seems an awful lot to try and negotiate on your own”

Soneya nodded through a mouthful of the soup.

“I wish I could Lionel but I don't have quite enough spare cash right now to afford a secretary. Most of the money went into getting this old building up to scratch again”

Lionel looked around at the work Soneya had done to renovate her grandfather's practice from a dilapidated old house that masqueraded as a legal practice into a smart and modern office. He nodded admiringly.

“Well...there are people around the town who would gladly help you. You only need ask”

“Oh I'm sure” Soneya agreed wryly. “But this is something I need to do on my own. Besides – there is enough fodder in this disaster zone here to keep the Stafford gossip mill running for the next two years”

Lionel chuckled as he made room for himself on the chair and sat down.

“I...met that fellow from Melbourne the other day,” he said, venturing a change in subject. “He seemed like a decent man”
Soneya nodded non-commitally.

“He was...”

"He mentioned he was the Director of that Festival” Lionel continued, feeling incredibly awkward.

“Mmm-hmm,” Soneya responded from behind the bowl of soup, eyeing him knowingly. She had already twigged as to where this was heading.

Lionel steepled his fingers together in his lap and looked down at them as an uneasy quiet settled between them.

"Did he...enjoy the Bistro?"

Soneya placed the soup bowl down on the desk with an expression of mock exasperation and smiled.

"You don't do prying very well Lionel"

His shoulders relaxed and he looked at her apologetically.

"Evidently not. I'm sorry"

"He came to ask me to present an award at the Festival...in memory of Denny...but I told him I couldn't go"

"Why ever not?" Lionel almost gasped.

Soneya hesitated, suddenly feeling as though she had to search for a reason.

"Because...I have too much to do here," her response came out much too harshly and she blinked and immediately felt ashamed. She continued more calmly. "I couldn't possibly leave the practice for a whole week when I've got this to contend with"

She gestured expressively at her desk for effect.

Lionel considered her occupational predicament and tilted one brow in acknowledgement.

"Well...I can appreciate the work you must have to do in order to make all of this...work. But Soneya...you haven't had any time off in over a year. Surely the practice could survive without you for a week".

Soneya shook her head and rubbed her brow.

"I just...can't Lionel. It's just too much"

Lionel wasn't at all convinced by Soneya's reasoning and though his conscience told that he should relent, something else overtook his rationality at that moment.

"What about Denny?" he ventured cautiously. "This seems like an wonderful opportunity...to do something...you know, special. To celebrate his life"

Soneya stiffened imperceptibly then. She lowered her head just slightly and her eyes narrowed.

"Lionel...you're going too far" she warned him. Even though she wasn't entirely serious, Soneya let her tone remain stony.

Lionel took the hint. He stood up awkwardly out of the chair and looked at Soneya sympathetically.

"You're right. It's none of my business at all. I'm...I'm sorry I even mentioned it"

Soneya remained seated and didn't say anything. Her eyes darted between him and the floor and though she held onto the soup bowl she'd stopped eating from it. She could feel herself shaking with the familiar sensation of desolate grief that she fought against so often.

Lionel stood there, his features etched with concern but his inner voice told him 'no more' and this time he listened.

"I shall...go. I'll see you in tomorrow...okay?"

Soneya nodded swiftly and closed her eyes.

Lionel quiety closed the front gate and glanced once more at the front window of the cottage. He felt awful for having been so interfering but also for having so clearly upset Soneya. Ruth was right - she was like a daughter to them both.

Lionel stepped off the curb and crossed the street towards the shop.

"Why does everybody think they have a right to interfere?"

Lionel spun around abruptly to find Soneya standing there outside the cottage gate. Her face seemed devoid of emotion and it chilled him.

"No one is trying to interfere Soneya," Lionel said evenly.

"Oh that's rubbish Lionel and you know it" Soneya shot back angrily, her voice shaking. "This entire bloody town wants to wrap me in cotton wool. They think I'm going to break apart"

Lionel shook his head sympathetically.

"That's simply not true," he said. "Everyone here just wants you to be happy Soneya. And...some of us who care about you very much can see that you're not"

Lionel stepped forward, his arms outstretched in exasperation. Soneya baulked, her cheeks flushed red with anger. She crossed her arms defiantly across her body to protect herself.

"What is that you're protecting yourself from Soneya? Why it is that you feel you need to cocoon yourself here - working 16 hour days, holing yourself up in that house, not mixing with anybody?"

"I don't have to justify myself to you!" Soneya spat viciously. "What I do here is my own business! I don't have to mix with anybody!"

"No...no you don't...," Lionel paused as he considered his words carefully. "...but if you keep limiting yourself from living in this world Soneya, you're going to miss out on the possibilities of experiencing it. Denny wouldn't have wanted that for you. You have your whole life still ahead of you. Why hold yourself back?"

"Bec...because I have responsibilities!," stammered. "My practice is too important to just step away from whenever I feel like it!"

"That's not it" Lionel challenged her, shaking his head slowly.

Soneya blinked at him incredulously, wiping furiously at her eyes.

"Because here is where I feel safe Lionel!" she shouted angrily. "Because...here I feel as though he never left - that he's still with me!!"

Her eyes glazed over then with tears that streamed freely down over her face. Suddenly her features contorted into a mask of raw anguish and she began rocking from side to side, gazing off into the distance.

"Why did he have to leave me Lionel!?" she cried. "Why!?"

Lionel immediately went to her and enveloped Soneya in his arms as she went completely to pieces. Burying her head into his chest she wailed, as all the pent up grief that she had held back for months and months finally collapsed forth like a tidal wave.

"Why!?"

Lionel closed his eyes and held her close to him, recognizing what was happening; his heart was breaking for her.

"He couldn't hold on any longer, dear child," he whispered into her hair. "You know that. It was his time. He knew that. Denny wouldn't want you to hide away forever"

Soneya sobbed and sobbed. So hard that she could no longer hold herself up but Lionel held her close, supporting her, allowing her to collapse, to let her emotions carry her. All those long months of holding herself together, of concentrating on all the things she had to do in her life just to keep going, of denying the grief that had been trapped deep down inside her for so long - all of it tumbled forth like a tidal wave and it overwhelmed her. The 'wall' had finally collapsed and she was exposed by her emotions.

"I don't want to go on without him Lionel! He was my best friend, my...best friend. I loved him so much"

Ruth appeared in the doorway then, her own features were swollen with emotion and she was struggling to conceal her own sobs. Evidently she had overheard the exchange from inside the store.

Lionel looked over at her and nodded, mouthing 'It's alright'.

Ruth stepped down onto the street and came over, gingerly putting a hand upon Soneya's shoulder. She dropped down onto her haunches and surrounded Soneya's small frame with her arms and held her.

"I'm going to make up the spare bed" Ruth decided then and there. "Soneya - you can stay with us tonight my dear. I'll not let you go home to that empty house like this"

Soneya was too numb to protest. Lionel gathered her up in his arms and carried her into the shop and through into their house where he gently deposited her onto the sofa in their sitting room. Ruth followed behind him, having retrieved Simon from the practice and his blanket from the basket. She folded it into a mat of sorts and set it down at the foot of the sofa where upon Simon sat down and looked up at Soneya worriedly, whimpering softly.

Ruth then brought a quilt in from their room and lay it over Soneya as Lionel sat there on the sofa cradling her.

"Here will be good enough" he whispered to Ruth as she pulled up a chair and sat down beside her husband. She nodded in understanding. Together they remained there with Soneya until she cried herself to sleep.

* * *

By the time the international leg of his journey was underway and the flight was far above the Pacific Ocean, Andy had settled in to the rhythm of the aircraft. Though they had been delayed for an extra hour in Los Angeles it hadn't seemed very long at all and time had passed by quickly. It was now mid afternoon and the passengers were beginning to settle in for the roughly 16 hour journey to Melbourne. Some were watching in flight entertainment, many were napping. Andy had taken out the literature for the Festival from his shoulder bag and sat back quietly reviewing it.

The program for the concert series was to be laid out over a week of competition. Over the first five days the one hundred delegates that had been selected from conservatoriums all across the world would compete in a series of heats where two delegates would be selected from a field of twenty each day. They would progress to a semi final round on the Saturday where ten delegates would compete for five positions in the final on Sunday. The prize was considerable - a ten thousand dollar cheque and an invitation to record on a prestigious classical label in Australia for a release that would be distributed world wide.

Andy's heat had been set down for the Tuesday afternoon just after lunch. It was as good a position as any he reasoned. He wouldn't have to wait too long to perform and he would be relatively fresh. It was give him an opportunity to view the mornings contestants and get a feel for how good the competition field would be. He had two pieces in mind for his performance - the second movement of a famed sonata "Grand Solo Op. 14" by Fernando Sor and the piece Andy had performed that very first time in the Pub a mere few months ago - “The Sounds of Rain (Part 3)" by contemporary English composer William Lovelady. It was a more obscure but no less enchanting piece.

Sor's second movement had an orchestral flare that lent itself well to a concert performance and it required considerable attention to technique in order for it to be carried convincingly. Of all the great guitar composers, Andy felt a particular affinity with Fernando Sor because his works suited the solo style well - which Andy felt most at home with.

Andy was, however, leaning towards the Lovelady piece which wasn't as long but it was a complex arrangement with rich atmospherics and a unique visual soul. And it was one of those pieces in which the title really did say it all - it's description evoked vivid scenes of the rain. Andy remembered when he had played "The Sounds of Rain" as a child – the first piece that he had mastered with the guitar. In fact he wasn't sure now if it was himself or Denny who had happened upon it. But his knowledge of the piece was intimate. Though he knew he was taking a risk bringing a less well known piece with him into the competition Andy believed firmly that "Sounds of Rain" would best showcase his own skill and technique and challenge him. For it was when Andy was challenged that he tended to produce his best playing.

He did not want to think too much about the final - he felt if he did he would jinx himself. However he had a piece in mind for the final round - a concerto that would require an orchestral accompaniment. It was the second movment in the famed Concierto de Aranjuez by Joaquin Rodrigo – an incredibly tender and emotive piece that had taken on a life of it's own in popular culture. Though Andy was wary of just how prominent the “Adagio” was he felt that he had what it took to make the piece his own for this particular gathering.

He had recordings of all pieces on his iPhone and he listened to them over and over again noting the unique form and texture of the pieces, their tones and harmonies. He mentally practiced the fingerings making mental notes of where he would need to apply his most intense concentration. He emptied his mind of almost everything else.

Almost everything...

Soneya was never far from his vision and it took very little for her face to center itself in his mind's eye. Once the Festival was finished he would find his way north to Stafford to her. He would explain himself to her somehow – convince her of the truth of who he was. How he was going to do that he had no idea but somehow he knew a way would present itself.

Andy closed his eyes and drifted in his mind from his environment; from the quiet cabin of the jet. And in that moment he was suddenly overwhelmed by a intense feeling of sadness, of loss. It was as though he could feel the distress of another somewhere close by who was grieving. And when he closed his eyes again he could see her in his mind...he could see her tears and her pain and it took his breath away. The intensity of the feeling caused his eyes to snap open and he was back inside the cabin. He sat there stunned and sweating, unsure of what had just happened. Taking a napkin from the seat pocket in front of him Andy wiped the sweat from his brow and blinked away the lingering tendrils of grief.

It was her...He had felt her.

* * *

In the dead of night, Soneya awoke with a start as a similar sensation passed through her - the sensation of a presence somewhere close by; a familiar presence that touched her and felt her grief. She blinked in the darkness, looking around her and seeing only Simon lying curled up at her feet on the end of the sofa. Her heart thumped and she lay back staring up at the ceiling.

She had felt someone...she had felt him...

Copyright © 2009, Dean Mayes.