Manifesting Your Dreams: Beliefs

Be clear in your mind about where or who or what you wish to be or have tomorrow. See it and feel it. Know that it manifests as you believe. You are the creator of the next moment, of your tomorrow's.

Change your thinking, change your life. The universe is your servant and will bestow upon you that which you believe. Believe in darkness and sorrow, and the universe will deliver that.

Believe in joy and unlimited potentiality, and it is yours.

Believe in yourself.

romance, Romance, ROMANCE

Romance does not always arrive in the stereo typical events of receiving flowers, chocolates, and sweet kisses. And receiving those gifts is nice, but I like a little more spontaneity, something outside the box. You know what I mean? Sometimes it's barely noticeable.

Yesterday, my hubby and I decided to drive to his sister's home. First, as usual, we stop at Tim Hortons and buy a treat. And being that in this part of the planet, there is the 'distracted driving' law, we drove a few blocks to a park to enjoy our snack and coffee. Just my hubby, our sheltie and me. Watching the traffic go by, and talking about this n that and enjoy our dog's pawing for a share of the goodies. I mentioned that I needed to get some yarn for an afghan I'm knitting. Hubby suggested that we could stop at the store and get what I was needing.

I was hesitant. I didn't have the address and I hadn't been there for a long time. I told him that I wasn't sure which street it was on. He was game to try and so we went hunting for the little shop, that looks like a house on a hill. I wasn't even sure of the name of the business. We drove up and down the streets and finally found the wee shop.

It was fun and hubby was helpful and supportive. Not roses and wine, but a good memory. I've forgotten about the dozens of bouquets of flowers he's given to me. Can't remember most of the gifts. But the moments we share in caring for each other stays with me forever.

Do you have a memory of a romantic time with your significant other? Was there a special moment, a touch, a wink that spoke volumes?

Secrets of the Guardians - Island of Light

The Guardian's Wildchild story refers to a secret clan living on a secluded island. The island has never been seen by non Guardians. In fact, it does not appear on any of the world's maps. How very mystical, eh! Yes, they are loosely connected to Canada as the island is west of Vancouver Island. So just how have these reclusive people remained hidden?

Well, I am about to reveal one of their secrets. The men and women of this island have not been altered by some nuclear accident, and they're not from outer space. No, they are as much a part of the human race as you. Except that thousands of years ago, we were just like them. Yes, ladies and gents, we had the powers of the Guardians.

Guardians naturally have the power to manipulate energy as easily as I blink. The energy surrounding their island is maneuvered so the light travels around and over the island. So when you went sailing in their vicinity all you see is ocean, sky and the horizon. Your sail craft will travel around the island, although according to your compass, you had not altered your course.

So all you sailors, I double dog dare you to sail a hundred miles west of Vancouver Island. If you gaze up to the heavens, it is possible you will see a Red Tailed Hawk gracefully circling looking for a tasty gopher in a meadow. If you are lucky enough to spot her (she's very clever, you know), say hello to Celeste. She's also magical. But then, that's for another installment of the Secrets of the Guardians.

The Guardian's Wildchild - an excerpt

Behind a massive desk, the captain sat stiffly in his chair. He glanced at Sidney, then gave an almost imperceptible nod to his lieutenant. His gaze shifted to Butchart. A tense silence followed. It stirred Sidney’s reserves. She noticed that Butchart’s breathing became shallow and his hand gripping her arm was sweating.

Neither Butchart nor Waterhouse spoke the usual words of greeting. The silence troubled Sidney. Finally, Waterhouse rose from his chair. “At ease,” he ordered. His voice was crisp and deep. “Frank, it looks like you’ve been rather busy.” He eyed Sidney’s tangled hair, filthy clothes, and bare feet. “Who or what have you delivered to the Nonnah?”

“Nothing you’ll have to be bothered with for long. She’s to be executed this evening. The details are on this file.” Butchart pulled out a memory rod from his tunic and tossed it onto the desk. “I’ll remain on board until after her execution.”

Waterhouse walked up to Butchart and smiled. “You want to watch, Frank? You’re short of blood on the naval base?”

Butchart snorted. “This is a special case. She’s quite dangerous.”

Waterhouse raised his eyebrows. “Is that so?”

Sidney sensed that under the military fiber of their equal rank something wanted to be unleashed. She felt it in Butchart’s tightening grip and saw it in Waterhouse’s dark eyes. But she felt a warmth in him even though he held his mouth in a firm expression of cold indifference. While every cell of the ship’s captain screamed authority, she felt the word “safe” when she looked at him. And there was something more behind those eyes, something that reminded her of Greystone. But she had no energy to inspect his aura, was no longer able to focus for more than a few seconds at a time. The room’s floor swayed, and her mind began to drift. More and more, an adversary more lethal than Butchart took hold of her body.

Waterhouse walked to a counter behind Sidney. “Coffee, Frank?”

“Coffee would be fine once this prisoner is stowed away in a cell. You’ll need to post someone in front of her door continuously. I’ll escort her there now.”

“She looks pretty sick. Or have you just been hard to please?”

Dedication to Scotty

I would like to introduce you to Scotty, or more formally, Scullybrae Highland Howler, the king of all Shetland Sheepdogs. The Guardian's Wildchild is dedicated to him. Scotty was an inspiration of love, wisdom, intelligence, and perseverance. He left his body in 2007, held in my arms, in our home.

As a writer I should be able to describe how deeply he loved. Words fail me. A friend once said to me, "There is so much adoration in his eyes when he looks at you." I thought that since I loved him so much that only I saw his deeply loving soul.

It wasn't just me he gave his heart to. Cats. Yes, he loved to play with cats. He was gentle, accepting other animals that came into our home. He wanted to make friends with a young porcupine one day. Fortunately, our Roo intervened and saved Scotty from a face full of quills. He greeted all people with affection, especially if they had a wee treat.

Scotty was a raspberry specialist. He picked his own berries, without damaging the branches - his gentleness extended to all things. One day I panicked as I could not find him in my yard. It took me a while to discover he was in the back raspberry row waiting patiently for a berry to ripen. His nose was phenomenal. If there was a tiniest treat under the fridge at the rear, he would beg until I got a clothes hanger to reach for it and drag it out.

He was a quiet boy, except when it was time for car rides. And he complained vehemently when he was required to ride in his crate in the vehicle.

His intelligence was especially noted on one trek through the forest. My two younger shelties disappeared into tall grass upon hearing a coyote calling. I hollered until I was nearly hoarse for them to come back. Scotty's patience wore thin. He bounded off into the grass. I was beyond panic. In a another moment, the first two vagabonds appeared with Scotty on their tail herding them back to me.

Too tall to enter in the Sheltie conformation shows, Scotty was trained in obedience and agility. Quick to learn and love of play, he accumulated dozens of ribbons in competitions and entertained the crowd with his playful antics. We competed as long as he had fun doing the exercises. When he was only three years old, and was within reach of his UD certification in obedience, the training had to stop. It was discovered he had hip dysplasia.

Through his veterinarian's management of his physical disability and my relentless determination to keep him as pain-free as possible, Scotty enjoyed a life filled with adventure. I cooked a special diet for him, walked him twice a day in the forest trails - oh, those pesky squirrels were a tease. Of course, we stopped for cheese and cracker picnics; and, on hot days, we had ice cream licks. He is one of the few dogs to have walked the trails in Canada's National Park, Nahanni in the Yukon, flown in a single engine float plane - had his own seat, not in a crate!

My favorite memory of Scotty took place one warm summer afternoon. We had stopped to rest at a fast flowing creek. Normally, he had been fearful of getting his paws in water. After a few minutes in resting in the shade, I watched in shock as he stepped into the shallow shoreline and stood quiet. He was letting the water rush over his paws, just ankle deep. The look on his face was fascinating as it changed from moment to moment.

I could see he was actually challenging his fear. He watched intently as the water swirled around his legs, rushing past him, lapping up against the rocky shore. After a minute, I could see his body relax, his face changing to an expression of wonder. Incredibly, in another minute, I saw his head raise up, his eyes closed as if he had become immersed in exquisite joy. It was a miracle.

Stay tuned for my upcoming Virtual Book Launch Party. See blog below.

The Guardian's Wildchild - A Novel by Feather Stone