Along the way, I reflected, and my thoughts fused with all around me. The sounds, smells, and colors of the moments blended with the stream of my thoughts. Abruptly, I recall that something simple caught my attention.
As I took a familiar path down to the river, I cleared the green brush and wispy tree limbs that now covered the path. I pushed aside one too many tree branches and, much to my surprise, one got away and whipped back grazing my nose. Instantly clsoing my eyes I let out Let an “Ow !”
Wiping my teary eyes and massaging the tip of my nose, something came into clear view. There I saw three pristine eggs in a tidy nest, gripping the wispiest switch of a gnarly, gigantic oak.
It was in my face, so I had to appreciate its presence.
This moment stood still, but ignited thoughts I buried years ago. Thoughts of my younger self.
The eggs held the colors that swell in the waters of a tropical island. Perfectly placed, they were a stark contrast to my day. They rested together but bounded with miniature life within. Its history was well written. In a way, nature charted their future. Still, their past and their impending future meant nothing if their present went unguarded.
What was meaningful was that very moment?
On the surface, nothing was truly remarkable or noteworthy about their existence or my stumbling upon them. In my past, however, I overlooked much of what hovered in front of me, and I glossed over what peered directly into my eyes. Like many of us, I changed my course when convenient. I wanted to look beyond the instant to forsake the day.
This, however, was not one of those times.
It was one moment captured on the film of my being.
Ensnared, it sat and rooted itself at the crux of my essence. This snip of time rushed with riches. Words could not represent this moment with justice.
Then, a memory came to mind. Years earlier someone introduced wordless moments, akin to this one. In doing so, he showed me so much more.
Why I returned to this particular path was a mystery to me.
I hadn’t been this way in years—decades perhaps. Maybe I found myself here because I had unfinished business weighing on my mind. Or was it because something was buried deep within me that I couldn’t seem to unearth? Perhaps, neither. Maybe I came in part, to honor my journey…or maybe his…our maybe ours.
Twenty-five years ago I walked this path when I was young and while moving toward my well thought out goal I unwittingly struck another path. This one was narrower and full of stones and roots that kept me focused on each step. But it was real. I now had to pay attention. I focused on the moment.
Yes, I took a detour, but what I found was more than I ever dreamed of at the time—much more.
Thinking of those days, I was young and “all knowing”. I did not want any more than what lay in clear vision, but I am now grateful I learned as my senses became replete.
What I thought at the time was absolute was not. What I thought was corrupt was good. I overlooked what astonishes me now. I was not ready for what was a metamorphosis in my life. But what I was not ready for was to conceive new ways.
Where I had been, in a way, and where I wanted to go, did not matter. Growth happened, as always, in my present. The journey was always in the now. I could not be told this, although some tried. Sometimes I asked questions of others, and I heard them, but did not listen. Placing a terrible burden on them, I so desperately wanted direction.
In time, I found what lay beyond the day, any day, only becomes smaller as my past became enormous. The present remained the only real time.
The past was only a trace of who I was to become. Now my past was a taste of bitter and sweet. Without one, however, I could not savor the other.
Why three tiny bird eggs made an indelible imprint on my mind earlier that day, I may never know. An illusion, perhaps, of simplicity, but the reality of life’s complexities rattled my senses. But the change, the transformation, and the need I had for so much more than what was simply before me pulsated in my mind.
Was my life as fragile as those eggs? Lives change without warning. What really mattered? Those capsules of life swarmed with energy and delicately clung to a tree. This interlude was merely momentary. My life’s experiences and thoughts swirled aimlessly in me but, simultaneously, cleaved to my soul. The occasion of my life, as well, is but momentary.
As I walked further down the path, I mulled over my life. I thought of that year of my younger self and resolved that there was something remarkable to everything, even the transitory life affixed to the wispiest vein of nature.
I originally wrote this in 1994 when I was working on my novel, Cutting of Harp Strings. I decided not to include it, but years later I was reminded of this passage. After rereading it and making a few edits, I thought it told its own story. I wanted to share it.
I am a fiction writer and the author of five books. My writing draws inspiration from the beauty surrounding us all—both in nature and in each other. Spirituality, friendship, love, and our connection to the universe inspire me to write. Here’s more about me and my books.
“We are all visitors to this time, this place. We are just passing through. Our purpose here is to observe, to learn, to grow, to love… and then we return home.”
Australian Aboriginal proverb
Simply put. With only thirty-one words, the longest having a mere eight letters, this proverb clearly speaks the truth for an ancient world and for the billions who have ever inhabited the planet. It is a sentiment that we may all value its worth.
Our Essence Articulated so Beautifully
My way of expressing myself is through writing. Everything I write reflects my truth, my guiding light, and my perspective on life. When I first read this proverb, I saw more than just words. I saw the essence of our lives articulated so beautifully. To my mind, this proverb is undeniable, it is radiant, enlightening, and truly magnificent.
You May Ask Why
With odds stacked against us, we enter this world as an empty vessel. Our life is limited, with a beginning, an end, and everything between these points filling us and shaping who we are.
We absorb the world around us and we learn. When we learn we grow. When we grow, we see life in new ways. We become different than before and hopefully more open to what the world offers. We advnace as do those around us.
We really aren’t very special. We are more alike than what you may think.–all of us. It is in our actions, both good and bad, that make us who we are. Our actions make us and our life one of a kind. We make the decision of “what kind” of person we will grow into.
Our actions separate us. When we are open to all others, we learn, we grow and our kindness and compassion leads to empathy. Love is probably the most powerful emotion the most powerful force we have. It’s a shame not to use this power. As temporary our life is, it seems to me we would strive to love as our love lasts. This is the road we should aspire to follow.
Our Impermanence
No question about it, we are just passing through. Since life and all that it encompasses are impermanent, we have a finite time on this planet to get it “right”. Because of this, it makes sense to treat our journey as sacred, to appreciate all we encounter, and to strive for harmony with all living beings.
Our purpose isn’t, I don’t think, to make make stuff, sell stuff, do what we please and live in our bubble–individually or as a community.
Our Purpose is More Than What We Think
Recognizing that we are only passing through, I believe we should embrace gratitude as we learn from our experiences. Love, a universally desired state of being, can only develop when we accept the impermanence of our journey and find ways to appreciate, accept, and celebrate all living creatures.
When the Times Comes
Since our lives are just a tiny blip in the vast flow of time, it is through our actions—big or small—that we create a full life, or don’t.
When the time comes for me to go home, I will be ready.
If you liked this post, you may like my other posts in my categories, I Seek Therefore, I Am
About E.G. Kardos
I am a fiction writer and the author of five books. My writing draws inspiration from the beauty surrounding us all—both in nature and in each other. Spirituality, friendship, love, and our connection to the universe inspire me to write. Here’s more about me and my books.
…he entered my life…she was cured…good fortune came my way…I finally realized what’s true.
Do you believe in magic? I do.
So what is magic?
It’s when the unexplainable happens. It appears when we are aware of our surroundings. It happens when nature becomes part of us, and we’re part of nature. It’s when the mysteries of OUR lives are revealed to us.
One of my favorite quotes on magic is:
“And above all, watch with glittering eyes the whole world around you because the greatest secrets are always hidden in the most unlikely places. Those who don’t believe in magic will never find it.” — Roald Dahl, The Minpins
Your Superpowers
The way I see it, to experience magic, it is all up to us. Yep, us. It’s not in a wand, a charm, a crystal ball or any of that stuff. As I mentioned above, it comes from awareness. But our awareness must be shaped by a confident spirit, our imagination and an open mind. It comes from our unyielding belief in ourselves. It comes from hope.
These are our superpowers and if they aren’t fireing don’t count on experiencing magic.
I’ve Experienced Magic, have you?
I look for magic in my life, and I’ve experienced it firsthand. But there are times the magic is distant and cold. No, I’m not always completely aware of what’s going on in my life, and. I sometimes forget that humans are part of nature and we must always respect and engage in this relationship. as we age, unfortunately, or imagination fades. What a shame as life is so much more that cold hard, black and white, facts. Frankly, humans din’t know it all and that is so evident as we manuever thrrough the muck we have created. And sometimes I lack confidence, and I’m closed- minded. I have caught myself losing what I believe in, and I see hope dwindle.
So yes, magic doesn’t come easy, but it is right in front of us if we only take the time to look at the outside from the inside.
Yep, I can do this
Something in me reminds me that my life is up to me. Like a clap of thunder, I’m reminded that the magic isn’t too far away. But I have to do something about it. I have to recharge the powers that may be found only in me.
Yeah, I live in a world of wonder–of mysteries so I tell my self to “snap out of it”. With shoulders back, chin up and I look to the horizon with an air of confidence and then, I am ready. I remind myself that we are intertwined with the all in front of us and my awareness is heightened. I believe in me and YES, hope returns and drives me forward.
I find magic in the beauty that surrounds me. The sunsets, the mountains and the raindrops. The trees, the rushing brook, the breeze tht comes from nowhere all stir me. I stop, look and listen. I am aware of my place in life and the feeling that comes from this opens my eyes.
Once I’m recharged, the mysteries of my life begin to reveal themselves once more.
That’s when, as if by magic…
…he entered my life…she was cured…good fortune came my way…I finally realized what’s true.
I am a fiction writer and the author of five books. My writing draws inspiration from the beauty surrounding us all—both in nature and in each other. Spirituality, friendship, love, and our connection to the universe inspire me to write. Here’s more about me and my books.
After discovering my books, Dr. Steve Bickmore, a national expert in YA Literature, read Cutting of Harp Strings and invited me to sit down with him to discuss the novel and my series, The Elias Chronicles.
Why Getting His “thumbs up” is Pretty Cool
Dr. Steve Bickmore is a national expert and scholar in the field of Young Adult Literature. His continuing work in YA literature brings scholars, professors, and readers together with authors in a way no one else has done before, creating awareness of YA literature. A retired Professor of English Education at UNLV, he is a past editor of The ALAN Review (Assembly on Literature for Adolescents of NCTE) and a past president of ALAN.
“If you are into realistic fiction like The Catcher in the Rye, A Separate Peace or other boarding school books then you should start with Cutting of Harp Strings.”
Dr. Steven Bickmore is a national expert and scholar in the field of YA Literature
It is a coming-of-age/bildungsroman novel by E.G. Kardos about the deep friendship between two polar opposite teenage boys, Eli and Aiden, exploring themes of love, self-discovery, and the meaning of life through their experiences in the 1970s. The story follows Eli’s journey as he reflects on his past and the impact Aiden had on his life, leading to a poignant and emotional narrative.
About E.G. Kardos
I am a fiction writer and the author of five books. My writing draws inspiration from the beauty surrounding us all—both in nature and in each other. Spirituality, friendship, love, and our connection to the universe inspire me to write. Here’s more about me and my books.
My mom taught me compassion, empaty and love. It wasn’t just what she said, but what she did. In her small way, she responded to others’ pain and understood their disappointments.
She endured hardships as a child during the Great Depression. She saw, first hand, the struggles of family, friends and strangers. Most people, she thought, tried their best in nearly impossible circumstances. The poor and infirmed are always hit the hardest and then and as it is now, she knew that we don’t all start from the same place and we don’t all have the same opportunities. We just don’t.
Some of us get a head start. I know I did.
Compassion, Empathy and Love
So what do I mean by these three words? Compassion is our sympathy for the suffering of others without placing judgment on that person or group of people. We can’t understand what they have experienced or how they arrived at this place in their lives–but we feel for their suffering and we want alleviate it. We can all be compassionate–no question about that.
Empathy is more active than compassion so it takes a little more work on our part. It is an intentional act to understand others feeling by putting yourself in their place and attempting to their situation, or their world, from their perspective. We need to do this, like compassion, with no judgement. Yeah, it takes intention and some work.
So what about love? Yep, it’s hard to define, but it is certainly the most powerful force in the universe. It’s the only force that moves us forward. It endures.
Through Actions
It’s great to think, pray, meditate, hope and have a whole lot of faith, but we need to attach these wonderful aspect with action.
Mom showed me her compassion, empathy and love through her actions, especially for people she didn’t know. She gave what she could to support Indigenious People, for example, who have suffered from injustices ever since European’s showed up on their beaches. White folks brought a lot of ills and devastated a people and a culture. No getting around that.
Mom was of western Eureopean decent and her family and generations before her had very little, but she knew she had more that the folks who first inhabited the Americas. She felt their struggles the best she could. She knew their plight and how they, at the hands of intruders, had nearly lost everything. She opened her heart to feel a fraction of their suffering. She acted and gave what she could.
When asked about compassion, empathy and love, Mother Teresa said:
“…I can only love one person at a time–just one, one, one. So you begin. I begin–I pick up one person. Maybe if I didn’t pick up that one person, I wouldn’t have picked up forty-two thousand…. The same thing in your church, your community. Just begin–one, one, one.”
Other ways my mom taught me about compassion, empathy and love
In 1977, when I was 17, my mom, dad, and I watched the U.S. Open on TV, where we saw Renee Richards play for the first time. She had transitioned from male to female in the early 1970s. My mom turned to me and said, “I feel for her and what she must have endured her whole life, knowing she was trapped in the wrong body.”
She had the compassion, empathy, and love. She also had the courage to openly support a trans woman, even in a time when the LGBTQ community faced harsh judgement, ridicule, violence, arrests and shame for being who they were born to be.
For younger folks, back then, and until very recently, most of LGBTQ community was deeply closeted due to the darker side of humanity that still lingers. Hate is alive, unfortunately, in 2025 and many communities are enduring unnessary siege. This is why liveing without judgement of others is all part of compassion, empathy and love.
This all came from a woman born in 1921. If my mom were alive, she’d be 105. She saw injustices and always knew that humanity could do – should do- better.She knew it waw all about man and nothing else.
I learned this from her
It’s so easy to be compassionate, to strive to be empathetic and to show love Yes, you read that correctly. Being compassionate, empathetic and showing love is easy.
It’s a matter of will
The happiest people are compassionate so as it lifts others it lifts us as well.
The Dalai Lama sums it up personally for me when he says:
“If you want others to be happy, practice compassion. If you want to be happy, practice compassion.”
If we can remove our ego and judge no one, we might start to feel the pain, and the joy, of others and actually do something about it..
We might choose to help instead of building walls and blaming others for our problems. There’s far too much whining from the most privileged in our country..
I don’t care who your are, but we all need help sometimes—yes, you’ve needed some too.It not, you will.
For me, compassion, empathy and love is about being human. We would be light years ahead if we only valued humanity–our neighbor. To put it another way, if we only valued what (most) moms show us, we would be light years ahead of where we are today on this puny planet.
Man spends his life gathering possessions that he ultimately leaves behind, rather than the things he could collect that would stay in his soul well beyond his last breath.
I am a fiction writer and the author of five books. My writing draws inspiration from the beauty surrounding us all—both in nature and in each other. Spirituality, friendship, love, and our connection to the universe inspire me to write. Here’s more about me and my books.
Maybe you’re like me, but I’ve always wanted magical powers. I’m just glad that there are great stories out their for folks like us to read or view.
This is Part IV of my seires about fantasy heroes and their magical powers.
I listed my eight favorite ways writers introduce the magical powers of their fantasy heroes. Most of these eight if not all, to my way of thinking, are ways we uncover our own superpowers as we navagate our lives. When you think about it we do some pretty extraordinary things when we are pressed and many time, not unlike our favorite fantasy hero.
Characters might find their powers from someplace within them.
Heroes that we love are sometimes the children of a divine or cosmic power or god.
How about the characters who have access to information, and they learn magic?
Then come the characters who find someone else with magic, and they cut a deal to access this power for themselves.
Magic can be found in our natural world if we only know where to look.
What about the wands, swords, and otherartifacts that somehow possess the powers that our hero wants or needs?
The herouncovers powers from within, but it has nothing to do with birthright, but all to do about their own will.
Yes, fantasy heroes may have magical powers but…
…how theyuncover them and, then, how they use them tells us a EVERYTHING about who they are. This is the moment we either relate to them or we don’t. Their story is usually a very human story much like our own.
And what do fantasy readers/viewers like the most?
In Part III I shared some thoughts on the most popular ways readers and viewers like their fantasy heroes to uncover their powers. This is more opinion than scientific as I could not find sources, but it’s interesting.
through some cool magical artifacts,
inherited abilities from their magical ancestors,
or from divine or supernatural forces that grant them magical or superpowers.
My personal favorite is when the hero has to earn or learn about their powers. What’s your favorite way? Let me know in the commnets below.
When and How the Hero find their Magic Powers
Like anything worthwhile, sometimes our hero goes through a process before they can truly use their powers. In the trilogy, The Elias Chronicles, I devoted four chapters on how Elias uncovereed his powers. I shared the first three of those chapters in each post and the fourth appears at the end of this article. ENJOY!
But first…
Elias learns from a mentor, is tasked with many steps and finally uncovers and learns about his magical powers. Most importantly, he learns the gravity of his pwers and when to use them AND not.
Below is chapter 7 from The Rings: Journey Beneath Sirok.This is Book III in The Elias Chronicles. The hero, Elias, uncovers his powers in chapters 5, 6, 7 and 8 with the help of his mentor, Tas (perhaps pictured above).
The sun was still low and new in the sky when Elias woke up. He could see Tas as he stood high upon a rock in the middle of the lake. Elias swam to where Tas was standing.
“Tas, tell me who you are—and don’t tell me ‘in due time.’ Oh, sorry….”
Tas let out a loud and long laugh that filled the air around them. “You are quite persistent—that is good. If you must know…my father was black, and my mother was white. My grandmother was Japanese, and her mother was Dutch. My grandfather was from Brazil, and my grandmother was Jewish. My father was Catholic, and my mother was Buddhist. My great-grandmother was Lutheran, and her father was Muslim. My other grandfather was Hindu. I have lived on every continent. Ah, I think that covers everything…oh, I tried to be a vegetarian, but it didn’t last. Does that do it for you?”
Surprised by the answer, Elias said, “Ah, yep, that does it.”
“Good. Elias, let’s talk more about you. You have asked me about this place many times. I told you that it doesn’t exist.”
“Yes, that’s right. Funny thing is, I believe you.”
“You asked me how I communicate with the Turul, and I said?”
“In due time,” Elias said.
“That is correct,” Tas laughed. “You asked how I flung that stone with great speed, and I said?”
“In due time, Elias.”
“Yes, and you asked me how I got the fish to jump into my hands, and I said?”
“In due time.”
“And the Donum…”
“IN DUE TIME,” Elias said.
“Well, Elias, your time has come.”
“I hope you don’t mind me saying, but it’s about time,” Elias said with laughter.
Tas laughed, too, as he began to climb higher on the rocks until he reached a landing. He motioned for Elias to join him. Elias climbed up, and they sat cross-legged and faced each other.
“I wish to share with you a power of the Endless Within called Cigam.”
“Cigam? I have never heard of that before,” Elias said.
“Of course not, Elias, as it comes from here, and as we both know, this place does not exist. I am not sure how strong this power is outside of this place, but it may help you on the next leg of your journey.”
“So it might not work outside of here—this place that doesn’t exist?” Elias asked.
“Yes, that is what I said, but I think you are in luck as the place you are going is not of your world. It is not of this time. It may be the past, or it might be the future, but it isn’t the present,” Tas said.
“What? Okay, okay. I should expect all this by now. What do I have to do?”
“First, you must listen to me. Are you with me?” Tas asked.
“Yes, go ahead.”
“I told you of the Earth and how she manages to keep things in balance.”
“Yeah…I understand,” Elias said.
“That is, until she is faced with The Two Powers – good and evil, which are manifested in man and only man.”
“Right.”
“This good and evil comes out in man because of his playing around with The Truths. Because he wants more than his fair share. We look to those with the Donum—the gift—to help.”
“Supposedly, I have this, this—Donum?”
“Yes, you are correct. You have the Donum. You must use it,” Tas said.
“Alright…so what does this have to do with Cigam?”
“EVERYTHING. Last night you saw the brilliant and colorful lights radiating from all the stone pillars just like the one we are sitting atop.”
“They were amazing. Like nothing I’ve seen before…like my palette full of colors but a million times brighter.”
“Elias, these lights are a rainbow of light, an aurora known as the Dancing Souls. They are here with us as we speak. We may not always see them, but they are ALWAYS present. We see them, especially in the darkest hours. They are always here.”
“We’re sitting on Dancing Souls?” Elias asked.
With a roar of laughter, Tas answered, “As a matter of fact, we are Elias…as a matter of fact, we are.”
Elias straightened up and leaned forward. His eyes widened as he asked, “How do I use this power—this Cigam?”
“You must believe…you must focus…you must have faith…you must have hope…and you must have love. Without these, you have nothing. You have no power to do anything. This is why a person with compassion will provide the balance. Remember, Cigam only works for good. The Dancing Souls are forever looking—always searching for balance.”
“So, how do I use it? I don’t get it.”
“It is simple, Elias. When you need Cigam, think about all we talked about. Focus it in your mind. Acknowledge it in your heart, feel it—and then act on it. Stand up.”
They stood together, and Tas handed Elias a stone. “See our camp over there?”
Elias squinted his eyes, “Barely, but yes, I see it.”
“Send that stone that direction and have it land on our campfire.”
“What?”
“You heard me,” Tas said with a raised, stern voice.
Elias looked at Tas and then at the target. He raised his hand with an open palm. Tas gently placed the stone in his hand. Elias cocked his arm and threw the stone, but it went no further than thirty yards and landed in the lake below with a plop.
Tas said nothing but scratched his head and then looked at Elias.
“Okay. There is a little more that goes into this, and let me think what that could be.” Tas raised a few fingers to his chin and thought for a moment. He scratched his forehead and shifted his body weight to his left hip. He filled his cheeks with air as if he was about to play a trumpet.
“Ah, yes. Of course—you must do this as a positive force and not a negative force.”
Puzzled, Elias said, “Tas, I’m throwing a stone. I’m not thinking of whether it is positive or negative.”
“That’s it…but you must—you must! You are not throwing anything, my boy. You are sending, you are transporting, you are moving something…and you are doing so to create the change that is needed. You must visualize what it is you wish to accomplish and then do it. It may appear you are ‘throwing’ a stone, but, indeed, you are not. You are the stone,” Tas said with a fluster.
“I still don’t follow. There’s got to be more than that.”
Tas rubbed the palms of his hands together as he thought. He brought them to his chin. He looked to the side and then up to the sky. “Trust, believe, love, and then focus all your good into what you are doing—no anger, no frustration, no anxiety—just the good. Bring the light of the Dancing Souls into yours. Look for the Dancing Souls in all you do. If you remember this, you will always see the light. You will see what it is you need to see. Choose another stone.”
Elias picked up a stone and examined it. He looked at Tas. Tas smiled, nodded his head, and whispered, “Trust, believe, and love.” Elias focused on the site, cocked his arm, and followed through. The stone zipped off his fingers before he knew what was happening. It soared with an energy that Elias had never before felt. The stone whizzed five feet beyond his target and buried itself deep into the sand. Elias and Tas turned to each other. Tas grabbed Elias, picked him up, and spun him around. They both fell to the ground as they laughed and celebrated his accomplishment.
Out of breath and with a rich and deep tone in his voice that Elias had not yet heard, Tas said, “Very good, Elias, very good. You must work on your focus. That is something we must all work on.”
Elias sat up and thought for a moment and then asked, “But Tas, could a man of compassion use this power to endanger others?”
Tas remained on the ground as he looked to the sky and answered, “Ah. That is a very good question. My answer is yes—you use this power only as a last resort. The power is only effective against what is evil. If you use this to be boastful, you will not get the results you want. Cigam will help you in the Under World. What happens there is later imitated in your world. Your work is that important.”
His mind was flooded with many thoughts, and Elias only halfway listened to his answer.
________________
That evening was a mirror image of the night before. All was calm, and the moonlight was bright and clear. Elias sat on the ground alone on top of a stone pillar. He wrapped his arms around his knees and folded up to his chest. The colors of the Dancing Souls emerged in grand style as the light began to swallow the darkness. The colorful glow shone on his skin and illuminated all around him. He looked at the many colors that blended and moved with the grace of a ballerina. He felt a jumble of emotions. He felt confident from all he had learned. He knew he was now part of the Dancing Souls. He was, however, scared at all that was before him. Who will I meet along the way? What am I supposed to do? He thought. He had many questions but no answers. He was confounded as to whyhe was the one with the Donum. All was quiet. Like magic, Elias turned his head and saw Tas sitting close by.
“I didn’t hear you come,” Elias said.
“Oh, I’ve been here for some time.”
The two sat in silence as they gazed into the brilliant rainbow of lights. After a few moments, Tas stood, walked to where Elias sat, and joined him. Tas sat directly in front of Elias.
“Look at me. Trust me, Elias. Hold the amulet between your thumb and index finger and look at me.” Tas leaned forward and looked directly into his eyes. Tas’ face tightened up, and his pupils became very large. Elias could only see the reflection of the Dancing Souls in his eyes. Elias opened wide. “Elias, you must leave at dawn. You will start your journey atop of Sirok.”
“Sirok?”
“Yes, Sirok, but this time you will not leave Sirok. You will go into its belly.”
“What? Its belly. What do you mean?” Elias asked.
“To go deep inside, you will find another land. This land is of another realm. It needs you.”
“Why, what’s there?”
“Do not interrupt me…I’m on a roll. I do not know how long I will be able to interpret all that is entering my consciousness. Be still and hold your tongue. Okay, where was I? You will go into the ruins, and you will find a passageway that will lead you to an opening.”
“An opening…ah, sorry, I’ll stay quiet.”
“Yes, a tiny hole, a crack, a crevice of some kind. It is an opening, nonetheless. I see it as small as the eye of a needle. You will pass through the eye.”
“What? A hole the size of a needle?”
“Elias, you must think in new ways. Remember what you have experienced here. You will meet many beings along the way. At some time, you will meet a beautiful woman. You will also come face to face with evils. Some you will recognize, some you will not. You will see the Kingdom of Gold high on a rocky hill. Rain? This is interesting…you will make it rain. Ah, yes. This is very interesting; I cannot tell if you will do this metaphorically or literally to make it rain. Hmmm… sorry, but I see no more. I have nothing else to tell you.”
“What? Just like that? Tas, you are not giving me much to go on…how will rain solve anything?
“Perhaps it is what the rain brings,” Tas explained.
“Like little flowers?” Elias said in frustration.
Tas burst into laughter and said, “Questions are good, but please…Elias, you will figure it out.”
“This is like a jigsaw puzzle, and, Tas, I hate puzzles. Tell me more.”
“I cannot. I can tell you that you are entering another time and one that no longer exists in the physical world. Cigam will work.”
“I don’t even know what to do with Cigam. Is this other world like this world?”
“No, Elias. It is not like this one—but it could be.”
They both sat in silence. Elias peered off to the horizon and squirmed. He stood and walked to the edge of the pillar and then sat facing the only darkened area in the distance. “I don’t know about all this. I could stay here with you.”
“I need no more company. The Dancing Souls are plenty. You have the Donum. You have the gift. I will tell you that Zoltan is in danger. You must deliver him and all good people from their peril.”
“How will I defend myself? I wouldn’t be here today without a sword I used to protect myself. I wish I had that sword.”
“Understand this, Elias. You have Cigam—the Dancing Souls—the Endless Within! How many times must I tell you? You need not worry about what you don’t have but rejoice in what you do have. Don’t forget you have the wisdom and power of the Dancing Souls. You became aware of it here, but you have always had it—the Donum. I became aware of that the moment I saw you.”
Elias turned to Tas and said, “What do you mean?”
“The amulet. The amulet around your neck. You may not see it, but I do. It has all the glow and radiance that is all around us. I’m sure Nattymama had something to do with that,” Tas let out a thunderous laugh.
“I bet it was that rainbow she was conjuring up.”
“Oh, I don’t doubt it,” Tas said with a tone just above a whisper. “I must visit her again someday….”
As he shook his head and slumped back, Elias said, “Tas, I don’t know about all this. This amulet seems to get me into a lot of trouble. Maybe I should leave it with you.”
“Elias, when will you learn—I thought you might say something like that. It is yours. Some things you just can’t and should not give away. It is you. That’s all I can say.”
“I know, I know. I was starting to really like this place.”
Tas boomed with laughter and said, “Why yes, Elias, this is a very wonderful place to get used to. Of course, one day you will be back as all who are good return, but you are special—you are called to something else.”
Embarrassed, Elias nodded with a faint smile and said, “So, I leave at dawn?”
“Not so fast. I must give you something else.”
Tas reached into his pocket and pulled out a ring covered with flecks of colorful gems. In the very center was the image of the Turul.
“Take this ring and give it to Zoltan. It is his ring that possesses power beyond reason. Oh, and yes…” Tas pulled out the remnants of the scraggly green beard that Elias had around his ankle when he first arrived.
“Why do I need this?”
“You must travel past the Vodnasters when you leave. If you tie this around your wrists, they will leave you alone. You were so smart to save a good size clump,” Tas said with a grin. “I must leave you now.”
Tas stood and began to walk away. He paused, turned to Elias, and said, “It is so simple—compassion balances the world. Use the Endless Within. But, Elias, you will know when it is time to leave that world, and if you do not, you may never return to your world.”
I am a fiction writer and the author of five books. My writing draws inspiration from the beauty surrounding us all—both in nature and in each other. Spirituality, friendship, love, and our connection to the universe inspire me to write. Here’s more about me and my books.
What’s your favorite way for fantasy heroes to find their magical powers?
In my previous posts (Parts I and II), I shared eight ways fantasy heroes find their magical or superhero powers. Thinking more about it, I wonderded of those eight, what do readers/viewers of fantasy feel are the most popular ways heroes find their powers?
Since I don’t really know how anyone could honestly be sure about this answer, I decided to check it out on the internet…so ’ve read on that the most popular way that readers/viewers like their heroes to find their powers in the following way:
through some cool magical artifacts,
inherited abilities from their magical ancestors,
or from divine or supernatural forces that grant them magical or superpowers.
…and the internet MUST be right…
Well, that’s for another post. But if these three ways for heroes to obtain their powers are the most popular, then readers/viewers tend to prefer characters who are given their powers.
I can see that, we all like gifts.
In other words, it’s desirable for many readers/viewers of fantasy for the hero to be in the right place at the right time and gains incredible powers without much effort. It’s like winning the lottery. Great gig if you can get it.
But what about this?
I enjoy these heroes and their journeys as well, but I truly love stories where the hero has to act or work hard to earn their powers. Because if they have the drive to work toward something, their journey will be more compelling, and they’ll become a truly heroic figure in a different, more inspiring way.
Maybe it’s just me.
Consider it: if you’re lucky enough to win the lottery, sure, you might do something cool with the money. But say if you don’t win the lottery like 99.99% of everyone, and if you work hard at something you love and good fortune comes your way, you’ll more likely act differently—more thoughtfully, perhaps. Well, maybe.
Heroes like this are underdogs and you gotta love the underdog.
In my way of thinking, this describes most of us, or the 99.99% that don’t win the lottery. It makes me feel a connection to hero as maybe–just maybe–that could be me.
How do you like the hero to find their magical powers?
Think about your favorite heroes. How did they gind their magical powers? Let me know in the comments section below.
In my last two posts, The Ways Our Fantasy Heroes Find Their Powers: Part I and Our Fantasy Heroes Find Their Powers: PART II, I listed the eight ways that I felt were popular ways for the fantasy hero to obtain their magical powers. Take a look.
As promised, here is the third chapter of The Rings: Journey Beneath Sirok…
…where Elias is one step closer to discovering his magical powers. This is the second of three books in the fantasy series, THE ELIAS CHRONICLES.
ENJOY, and stay tuned—the fourth chapter is coming soon.
Below is chapter 6 from The Rings: Journey Beneath Sirok. This is Book III in The Elias Chronicles. The hero, Elias, uncovers his powers in chapters 5, 6, 7 and 8 with the help of his mentor, Tas.
Each of these chapters Elias learns more about his powers as his mentor, guides him to uncovering his powers and magic within and how they are part of a greater source. Like I said last time, pretty cool, huh?
The next day, Elias awoke to Tas standing knee-deep in the lake. He clapped his hands a number of times in a particular rhythm, and a fish jumped up where he could catch it. He did this two more times and walked to shore, where he started a fire.
“Let us start the day with brain food, Elias.”
“How—how did you do that?”
“Do what?
“Catch fish like that.”
“I merely opened my hands, and when the fish was near, I caught it. That was the easy part.”
“No, no, no. I mean, how did you get the fish to willingly leap up out of the water?”
“In due time, Elias. Let’s eat.”
Tas began to clean the fish with a knife and then skewer them. Finally, he laid them on a red-hot stone surrounded by blazing embers. Elias looked on with interest.
“Elias, the fish will be sacrificed for our nourishment. Appreciation and gratitude for all living creatures is important, and we must never forget to respect all life.”
Tas flipped the fish and sat cross-legged while Elias sat on his knees. They both faced the lake. A cool breeze filtered in and out of the trees and sent small waves onto the shore. A few minutes later, they ate.
Tas looked intently at the fire, and with the rhythm of a poem, he spoke.
“Wood feeds fire,
Fire created Earth,
Earth bears metal,
Metal enriches water,
Water nourishes wood,
and then again, wood feeds fire and so on.
Tas stood and walked to the lake and stood in the water. Elias sat and thought about the words he had just heard. He then joined Tas.
“I get it. Everything is connected. Everything needs everything else,” Elias said.
“This rock is the home of every inhabitant from the ant to the antelope. The snail to the sperm whale. Every tree is sacred, and every life enriches another from what we think is the smallest to what we believe is the biggest.” Tas cupped his hands into the water and splashed his face. He took a drink of the fresh, clean water. Tas continued and said, “Come with open hands and drink your fill.”
Elias jogged to where Tas stood, cupped his hands, and drank. He felt the coolness of the liquid as it streamed down his chin and dripped down his neck. He used the back of his hand to wipe his mouth.
Tas looked at Elias and said, “Ah, water—it becomes you, my boy.”
Elias smiled at his friendly remark. Tas nodded his head and began to walk to the edge of the water. He waved his hand, and Elias followed. “Let us sit, Elias.” The two sat on the wet beach and stared out over the water and the stone pillars that stood tall. A breeze rushed in and gave Elias a chill.
“There is a balance to everything, but when the balance is disturbed, we have chaos and destruction. Sometimes this chaos and destruction are easily seen, and other times it is hidden in the hearts and souls of man.”
Without warning, Tas sprung up and swiftly walked into the lake, dove in, and swam to the stone pillar that was closest. He pulled himself up and sat gazing off to the horizon. Elias followed.
“I call this balance The Truths. Alone, the world balances itself. With man, the world falls victim to human desire. What a man wants, a man tries to get.”
“Our history books at school are filled with battles and one country overthrowing this country or that—of wars. I think you’re right. Man sees something he wants and goes for it right or wrong,” Elias said as he picked up a stone and tossed it over the cliff.
“That is troubling if that, indeed, is what man is,” Tas said as he shook his head.
“I agree—it doesn’t sound good,” Elias said.
“Only a man with compassion knows the importance of The Truths, and his compassion shows the way.”
“Compassion? What do you mean?”
“All humans SHOULD have concern for the suffering of others.”
“I don’t know…I think you need more than that,” said Elias.
“Yes, but compassion is where it starts. You can also call it your conscience. Without it, rules mean nothing. This is where the imbalance begins.”
“Hmmm. I think I see what you mean,” Elias looked at Tas, and Tas looked back at him. “I don’t think this way of thinking crosses their minds,” said Elias.
“Even when it crosses a mind or two, man sometimes doesn’t try to understand a person’s struggles and disappointments. Man, many times, does not care. Oh, it is too often that man loses sight of what’s in him—how he can make a difference. This is when a man does nothing,” Tas turned and looked into Elias’ eyes.
“I would never do that.”
“I believe you, Elias, but sometimes we are tempted as we are not perfect. Sometimes it is easy to do nothing, to give up. When more and more souls are tempted, give up, or give in, The Truths go out of whack. The two great powers must be in balance—easy as that.”
“We are all part of the bigger world,” said Elias.
“I would say—the bigger cosmos and the larger dream…but you know, it is rather ironic that even as weak as man is, he still has the ability and responsibility to balance the two great powers. This is just how it is.”
Tas looked at Elias until Elias began to squirm.
“Why are you looking at me that way?” Elias asked.
“Elias, you have the Donum.”
“The what?”
“The Donum is the gift. It’s been given to you—this gift.”
“What gift? And what does this have to do with me and my journey? How does this save Zoltan?”
Tas stood and brushed off his pant legs. He walked a little way from where they sat. He placed his hand over his eyes to shield the sun’s rays.
“Well, aren’t you going to tell me about this gift I supposedly have?”
“In due time, my boy. In due time.” Tas turned to him. “It has a great deal to do with you, but let me first tell you more about The Truths.”
Elias grew more and more impatient but kept his feelings to himself as Tas continued.
“First, Earth. It is stubborn and patient. It has been here for millions of years, taking considerable abuse, but it is steady. It brings life and brings metals, minerals, and beauty. The Earth has volatile powers. It has explosive energy, but in the end, it balances itself. The Earth is special. We only have one, and from it comes all life. This is why we call her Mother.”
“Ah, Mother Earth,” Elias said with a smile.
“Trees bring us wood. Wood may be very sturdy but also may be very flexible. Trees give us what we need to breathe. Trees and the wood from the trees give us shelter and fuel. I could go on and on. Trees are generous.”
“So it is sacred.”
“Yes, Elias, trees are sacred. As far as metal, it is also sacred as it enriches our lives—in our water and food, as well as provides tools for our homes. It is also precious and highly prized. It turns into tools or weapons. The Truths must always stay in balance.”
“I bet my paintings have something to do with this imbalance, I’m sure.”
“You have finally brought up your paintings. I was waiting for that as I have heard of your paintings. Yes, I think you are right—your paintings have much to do with this imbalance.”
“Did you hear this from the Turul too?” Elias asked.
“Of course, Elias, who else?” Tas roared with laughter. Elias couldn’t help but laugh too.
“What about water?” Elias asked
“Ah, water. It is so very precious. We must all have it. It must be clean. It must be abundant. It nourishes trees. It nourishes everything, including our souls. As it is vital to life, it may be very destructive, and its force should always be respected.”
“Tas, I know about fire. I learned this from…”
“…Gaspar! My dear friend. How is he?”
“You know Gaspar?”
“Absolutely. EVERYONE knows Gaspar. He is the goldsmith of goldsmiths. He is peculiar but a very good man. What did you learn from him?” Tas asked.
“How hot and how long. When something is precious, he said, one must know how close and how long to expose it to what could destroy it. He said you don’t think it—you feel it. Fire changes things—for good and for bad.”
“I couldn’t have said it as eloquently as that. Elias. I am telling you something so simple—no secret about it, but to balance The Truths, we must be kind and compassionate souls. Just as catching the fish is the easy part, what gets the fish in the air is different altogether. Tomorrow. More tomorrow.”
Look for the next chapter when Elias learns about “The Dancing Souls”.
I am a fiction writer and the author of five books. My writing draws inspiration from the beauty surrounding us all—both in nature and in each other. Spirituality, friendship, love, and our connection to the universe inspire me to write. Here’s more about me and my books.
Have you ever wondered how fantasy heroes find their powers? In my last post, The Ways Our Fantasy Heroes Find Their Powers, I shared some ways how the hero finds their powers. Not all fantasy heroes are cut from the same cloth, AND thatmeans their powers come to them in very unique ways.
Eight Ways a Fantasy Hero Find their Powers
In my last post, I shared my favorite ways a fantasy hero uncovers their powers. Here they are again:
Some are born with it. That’s the easiest way. Although I love these characters, I feel like I did when I was hanging around with the “cool” kids growing up. Why them? I would ask. I think there are many other ways our hero can become “the chosen one”…
Characters might find their powers from someplace within them. Some event or situation in their lives triggers an emotion, and they begin to use their powers without even knowing it. They realize they have it—they have powers. This is a favorite of mine as I always think that maybe some event in my life with spark my unique power.
Heroes that we love are sometimes the children of a divine or cosmic power or god. These heroes are great, and I love them as well. Unfortunately for me, I won’t be getting any suprpowers this way.
How about the characters who have access to information, and they learn magic? This is an awesome way, as maybe I can find an old book, thumb to the correct page, and learn how to harness the powers that only a few possess. You never know.
Then come the characters who find someone else with magic, and they cut a deal to access this power for themselves. I don’t know many folks who have these answers, but that would be kind of cool.
Magic can be found in our natural world if we only know where to look. Sometimes heroes connect with someone who can guide them to help them find this special place, the spirit or force where these powers flow.
What about the wands, swords, and otherartifacts that somehow possess the powers that our hero wants or needs? These heroes are powerless without them, but wouldn’t we all want something like this? I would!
My favorite is when the herouncovers powers from within, but it has nothing to do with birthright, but all to do about their own will. They are guided by a mentor who helps them by opening a place deep within them. I feel we all possess this kind of magic and can do wonderful things we never thought we could do. It’s up to us.
There are so many great ways our fantasy heroes find their powers
As promised in my last post, I am including chapter 6 from The Rings: Journey Beneath Sirok. This is Book III in The Elias Chronicles. The hero, Elias, uncovers his powers in chapters 5, 6, 7 and 8 with the help of his mentor, Tas.
Each of these chapters Elias learns more about his powers as his mentor, guides him to uncovering his powers and magic within and how they are part of a greater source. Like I said last time, pretty cool, huh?
The chapters are:
5 – Tas (last post)
6 – The Endless Within
7 – The Truths
8 – Dancing Souls
So here’s the next chapter… the next two are coming soon.
6
The Endless Within
First, Tas taught him rhythmic breathing. “In slow…and even…out slow…easy. “You are not your mind, but you need to ‘see’ your mind. You need to see how it works, Elias,” Tas told him. “Cast no judgment, Elias—welcome no criticism, Elias—stand apart, away from your world.” Tas moved his hands together up and down. “You are like a stone pillar. You must stand alone—nothing can get you or get into you unless you let it.” Tas placed his hand over Elias’ heart. “You see peace. You feel peace. You are free from evil, and you want to share this bliss with everyone.”
With hours left in the day, Tas asked Elias to meditate and not to utter one word until the sun sunk beneath the green hills. Tas asked him to spend the day and watch him and his actions.
Tas dove into the water and swam to a tall stone pillar that protruded high into the sky. He climbed to the top. Elias followed and climbed with confidence to the top. With energy and strength that matched Tas’, though a little slower. They stood in silence and viewed the world from its pinnacle as the Turul flew close by.
Again, Tas dove into the water, swam to the shore, sat on a slab of limestone, and meditated. Elias stood still and watched Tas until he sat in his familiar pose. Elias twisted his waist from side to side, inhaled, and dove into the crisp, clear water below. He swam to where Tas was sitting.
As he looked for a place to rest, Elias chose to sit on the warm sand and closed his eyes. He concentrated on his breathing as he took in the air slowly and evenly and out easy and even. As Tas taught him, he wiped clean all the thoughts that bounced in his head. It was difficult to do, but he continued to focus. Like the stone pillar, he saw himself as tall and strong. He was formidable. As he felt he was part of the Earth, he felt warmth move through him like a wave of strength. Is this what peace feels like? He thought.
Moments later, Tas stood and walked to the edge of the water. A foamy wave gently washed up on his feet. Elias opened his eyes with a few blinks, got up, and walked near where Tas stood. Squatting, Tas picked up a stone that could fit in the palm of his hand. He slowly stood and brought his arm back and behind him in one motion. He tilted his head and closed one eye. His arm snapped forward, and he flung the stone with super speed. Elias was shocked. The stone hit the perch where they had stood earlier in the day.
“Wow. How’d you do that? I mean, it really took off. I didn’t think it would ever come down. Will you show me?”
“In due time, Elias. Now I asked you to say nothing until the sun has sunk beneath the hills.”
“You’re right—sorry.”
Tas said nothing but looked away, so Elias did not see the smile that took over his face.
_______________________
Night came, and a half-moon shone in the sky. Tas and Elias sat by a fire on the shore. Elias dared not to say anything even though his curfew was over. They heard nothing but the gentle rush of the water that flowed close to their feet and then back out. Without warning, beams of colorful light appeared from all of the stone pillars in the water and glimmered upward. Elias looked around and did not believe what he saw.
“Those lights, Tas, what are they? They seem to be shooting up from those rocks.”
“Those lights are special. Every color known to man comes together and pierces the vast nothingness—the dark. It is brilliant, yes?”
“How, how…”
“In due time. In due time you will learn about the lights.
So Elias, what did you learn today?”
“Huh?” he answered as he continued to stare at the lights. “Um…well … I must always start with what’s inside of me before I can expect to know where I’m going and what I’m going to do there.”
Tas turned to Elias. With pursed lips, he slowly nodded. “Yes, of course, Elias—you knew that was going to be on the test. But I told you that. Tell me what came from you.”
As he leaned back on his elbows and looked directly at Tas, Elias asked, “You don’t make any of this easy, do you?”
Tas leaned back on his elbows as well and let out a laugh so loud it echoed from pillar to pillar.
“Okay, let me think for a moment.” Elias looked up to the brilliance and energy of the lights that split the night. He could not stop staring at this mystery. He then gazed at the outline of the half-moon. He looked at Tas. “Okay, okay, I got it. This place—this place can be real. Yes, it can exist. I mean, what’s holding us back? Water, sun, air, trees—life; nothing here is complicated. It seems so simple, and everything seems so rich.”
“Yes, Elias, it is a man who makes things complicated. It is a man who wants more than his fair share. It is a man who makes the decisions. He wants power.”
“Why is that, do you suppose?” asked Elias as he looked back at the lights.
“Because of The Two Powers.”
“The Two Powers? What?” Elias asked.
“Because of the contrasts. Of the many contrasts, The Two Powers make all the difference, and One Power sometimes overshadows the other.” Tas stood up, stretched his long arms on either side and looked upward. He inhaled the fragrant, clean air and then exhaled. He looked at Elias, squatted in front of him, and said, “The Two Powers I am talking about are simply known as good and evil.’’
“Everyone knows about good and evil. So Tas, what
does this have to do with me, and where am I headed?”
“You will learn more, Elias—in due time.” Tas walked
toward the lights.
Elias rolled his eyes and said, “Tas, don’t get me wrong, but I didn’t come here to spend time and just hang out. I’ve got to get what I need and find Zoltan. He needs help.”
Tas turned back to Elias and said, “Impetuous Elias, that’s what you are. Let me tell you how you will get what you need. First, you will spend more time with me. Then I will ask you to leave. At that time, you will discover where you must go from here.”
“Okay—I got it so far,” Elias said as he sat up and wrapped his arms around his knees.
“Good—I will learn just like you.”
“Huh?” Elias stood, stretched, and walked toward Tas.
Tas turned to Elias. “You heard me. I don’t have all the answers, but they will come to us somehow. But this is what I do know. You will seize a power that you will find in your soul. A power all man has but seldom uses. Call it intuition, call it a sixth sense, or call it a message from the creator of the cosmos. Whatever you call it, you will understand what this power is saying to you. It is the connection between thought and heart. It’s the Endless Within.”
He looked puzzled and said, “Endless Within?”
“Of course—the Endless Within!”
“So this Endless Within…does it have something to do with these lights?
“Oh, it very well might.” Tas stood and walked to a smooth slab of stone. He lay down and became silent like the night. Elias looked over at him and expected him to say or do something, but he lay motionless. Elias held his open palms out to either side and shook his head.
“Really? Hey, Tas, what are you doing?”
“I’m trying to sleep.”
“What? We’re in the middle of something here,” Elias blurted.
The palette of lights that emanated from the pillars mesmerized Elias. Frustrated, he looked back at a sleeping Tas and shook his head. As he felt the strain of a long day, Elias tried to hold back a yawn, but another one followed. He rubbed his eyes and scratched the back of his neck. He nestled up near a stone ledge to his side, and, light or no light, he fell asleep.
Look for the next chapter when Elias learns about “The Truths”.
I am a fiction writer and the author of five books. My writing draws inspiration from the beauty surrounding us all—both in nature and in each other. Spirituality, friendship, love, and our connection to the universe inspire me to write. Here’s more about me and my books.
Our fantasy heroes find their magical powers in many ways. But it’s not so different than how we find our own superpowers as we navigate the uncharted paths of our own lives.
Yep, we all have magical or superpowers if we only take the time and look inside.
Read on and you will see what I mean.
Reading, watching, and writing fantasy has been a pleasure of mine for my entire life. My imagination has run wild, and I am still searching for my superpowers. However, when I began writing my series,The Elias Chronicles, I knew exactly how Elias might find, uncover, and use his powers. It was fun to see it unfold. I felt they were my powers too. I’m not the only one who has felt this way– readers too tell me they felt the powers along with Elias.
With intentionality and seriousness, every fantasy writer grapples with how their hero is unique and how best to show this uniqueness. How fantasy heroes find their powers is central to their being as well as crucial to the entire story. Many times it is in how the hero finds their powers or their magic that influences their use of them as well. These actions help to flesh out and define who the hero is and what they stand for.
Here are Some Ways Our Fantasy Heroes Find Their Magical Powers
Some are born with it. That’s the easiest way. Although I love these characters, I feel like I did when I was hanging around with the “cool” kids growing up. Why them? I would ask. I think there are many other ways our hero can become “the chosen one”…
…so here are more ways.
Characters might find their powers from someplace within them. Some event or situation in their lives triggers an emotion, and they begin to use their powers without even knowing it. They realize they have it—they have powers. This is a favorite of mine as I always think that maybe some event in my life with spark my unique power.
Heroes that we love are sometimes the children of a divine or cosmic power or god. These heroes are great, and I love them as well. Unfortunately for me, I won’t be getting any suprpowers this way.
How about the characters who have access to information, and they learn magic? This is an awesome way, as maybe I can find an old book, thumb to the correct page, and learn how to harness the powers that only a few possess. You never know.
Then come the characters who find someone else with magic, and they cut a deal to access this power for themselves. I don’t know many folks who have these answers, but that would be kind of cool.
Magic can be found in our natural world if we only know where to look. Sometimes heroes connect with someone who can guide them to help them find this special place, the spirit or force where these powers flow.
What about the wands, swords, and other artifacts that somehow possess the powers that our hero wants or needs? These heroes are powerless without them, but wouldn’t we all want something like this? I would!
My favorite is when the hero uncovers powers from within, but it has nothing to do with birthright, but all to do about their own will. They are guided by a mentor who helps them by opening a place deep within them. I feel we all possess this kind of magic and can do wonderful things we never thought we could do. It’s up to us.
There are so many great ways our fantasy heroes find their powers
In this post and my next three, I am sharing four chapters from The Rings: Journey Beneath Sirok. This is Book III in The Elias Chronicles. Each of these chapters Elias learns more about his powers as his mentor, Tas, guides him to uncovering the powers within and how they are part of a greater source. Pretty cool, huh?
He pulls it together so that he is ready to continue his quest.
The chapters are:
5 – Tas
6 – The Endless Within
7 – The Truths
8 – Dancing Souls
Yep, we all have superpowers if we only take the time and look inside. Read on and you will see what I mean. Look for the next three chapters coming soon.
5
Tas
Exhausted and out of breath, Elias tread water in the crystal clear and calm waters around him. He looked around the cavern. It was enormous, with high curved walls like the inside of a seashell. It was fragrant like the lavender in Nattymama’s herb garden. A glow came from different points under the surface of the water and threw colors onto the walls and ceiling. Elias spun in a circle as he tried to make sense of it all.
He kicked his weary legs to power himself onto a large flat rock. With his last ounce of energy, he hoisted himself up and laid back so he could rest. He still had scraggly tufts and long strands of coarse green hair wrapped around both ankles, and some clung to his waist. After a moment, he sat up and began to pull the gunky strands from his legs. He looked at it in disgust and tossed it to the other side of the stone slab. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a lone man that sat on the other side of the cave. The man was very still.
That must be him, he thought. Tas had very long black hair, which he had pulled back behind his head. Tall and lean, he wore only red baggy pants that hung from his small waist. He had colorful tattoos that covered his muscular brown arms and back. His eyes were wide and enchanting. They were perhaps his most remarkable characteristic. They were the color of dark shiny gems.
Tas sat undisturbed. His legs were crossed, and his back was straight. He rested his hands on his knees. He held his hands so his thumb and index finger connected and formed a perfect “O.” He pointed his chin upward toward the ceiling.
Not moving a muscle, Elias sat still so he could watch him. He did not know whether to call out to Tas or wait for Tas to call him. Elias was still exhausted and knew he wasn’t thinking clearly. The fight he braved had finally caught up with him. He rubbed his arms and legs as his head throbbed. Things began to look fuzzy, so he laid back. His eyelids began to close as the thoughts in his head started to make no sense. He drifted off to sleep.
Whether it was for a few minutes or hours, Elias woke to find Tas standing over him. With one foot on either side of Elias’ chest, he stared down at him. Elias’s eyelids fluttered open, and he tried to focus on the figure above him. His body automatically tensed as he remembered when he had met the Sarkany the very same way. Only the Sarkany had his sword and pointed the tip to the amulet on his chest. At that moment, Elias became fully awake and began to wonder what would happen next. Tas’ face was stern, and he gritted his teeth, but then he let out a guttural, echoing laugh. Elias relaxed and sensed everything was fine—he was in no danger. Tas stepped aside and held out his hand to help pull Elias up. Tas crouched next to him and peered into his eyes.
“So you must be the Elias I’ve heard so much about.”
“Yes, and you must be the Tas I’ve heard so much about, too.
“Why yes. That is who I am to you—today.”
“Today? What do you mean?”
“I am known differently and by many names to different souls. My Earth mother knows me differently than you, as do my many sisters and brothers. Yet, all seem to choose to call me whatever they want. I despise labels…and names are only labels.”
“I get what you’re saying. People judge, and they shouldn’t, but we all have to have a name.”
“I suppose you are correct. Tas is as good as any other”.
So tell me…how is Nattymama? Oh, Nattymama—I do love that precious soul. For some reason, she holds me in such high regard. Perhaps that is a label my ego likes. I suppose there is a great deal of truth to the idea that a prophet holds no regard among those who know him or her best—perhaps that is why she sent you to me.”
“Prophet? Are you…”
“Ooooohhhh, please do not get me wrong. I am not a prophet. I would say I am a compassionate soul. I nourish, I connect, I challenge, and I may even inspire… I love, I have faith, and above all, I have hope for our kind—but I’m not a prophet. Perhaps, I am a teacher,” he said as he wagged his finger and laughed. “I say all this to emphasize that we often overlook the value of what is or who is directly in front of each of us at any given time. All of us can do all these things I have said—we just need to listen to one another.”
“I suppose you are right,” Elias answered and said what he thought he should say.
“Labels do us no good,” Tas said as he sat down. All became quiet before Tas went on to say, “But, I will tell you. Nattymama is special.”
“How did Nattymama send word to you about me?” Elias asked. “She couldn’t have made a trip like this to tell you about me.”
“Don’t sell Nattymama short. She doesn’t have a chain holding her to her cottage, although it is quite a lovely place,” Tas said as he looked away fondly and then continued, “But, yes, you are correct, Elias. She did not come here, but she has her ways. If you must know, the Turul told me.” “First Zoltan and then Nattymama and now you…can everyone communicate with that bird but me?”
“In due time, Elias. In due time you will see and hear things you have never witnessed before,” Tas said with outstretched arms. “Now, tell me, have you been meditating?”
“Huh…what do you mean?”
“Meditation—meditation. It refreshes the mind, body, and soul. To understand the world, we must understand the world in each of us. All of our thoughts, feelings, what we do, and why. What’s in each of us is as vast as the universe. Humans would do themselves a great service if they attempted to learn the world inside them before seizing the world beyond them.”
“WHAT? I don’t understand why you are telling me this. I need to get answers and be on my way. I don’t have time for a philosophy lesson,” Elias said as he shook his head and grew more confused.
Tas boomed with laughter. “My, my…you do have the temperament of an artist now, don’t you? Yes, I was told you might say something like that…in due time, Elias. I remember being young and impetuous like you.”
“What do you mean? You can’t be much older than me. What are you twenty—twenty-five?”
“Let’s leave it at that. Don’t worry about such things. Now, the reason that we must start with meditation is because you will learn how to concentrate and focus. Little things in life that distract will bead away like water on a duck’s back. You must learn to focus. Where you will go, you must know your purpose, and learning about yourself will make this purpose come alive. Alive! Do you follow?”
“Really? Meditate?”
“Oh yes—really,” Tas answered with a big nod and a tight smile. “Yeeeeesssss, you must meditate. Your brain will connect with your heart, and that feeling will always save you.”
“Okay, okay. I’m not so sure I understood you but let’s get this over with. I’m ready. Show me how,” he grumbled.
“Slow down, Elias. Let us take a walk outside this carved out rock, and let me show you what the world could look like—how it could look, sound, feel, smell, and taste.”
“I just came in from the world. I saw what it looked like. It wasn’t pretty. I don’t get what this has to do with where I’m headed. Can you give me what I need and point me in the right direction, and I will be on my way?”
As he paid little attention to Elias’ impatient demand, Tas continued, “Bear with me. What exists only exists in your mind. Others tell us things, and we believe them. We even look for it since it has become so ingrained in our thinking. But it doesn’t have to be this way. It, however, has been the way of man for thousands of years. I’ll let you in on a secret—this place, where we stand right now, doesn’t, well, exist.”
“Huh?”
“It’s better to show you what doesn’t exist than to tell you. Please, follow me.”
Tas started to walk toward a waterfall that poured from the ceiling of the chamber. Elias looked up and scratched his head. He looked over his shoulder at Elias, then calmly nodded and continued toward the cascade of white water that flowed down the glistening solid wall. Elias caught up with Tas, and they walked side by side.
With a hiccup, Elias asked, “Hey, Tas, is there an opening up there where that waterfall begins?”
“But, of course, there is an opening—there is always an opening. There is always a way, although it may be so slight and no one sees it.”
They approached the waterfall, stood in front of the pounding water, and felt its cool spray. It felt good on Elias’ worn muscles and bruised skin. Elias looked to Tas, who stood with his eyes shut.
“Okay, Tas, now what?”
Tas opened his eyes and looked at Elias. As he did, he extended his arm through the powerful flow of water. Like a proscenium arch, the falling flow of water separated like a curtain, and a blinding blue and white light shone through the opening. Tas stepped forward, as did Elias. They took another step together and were now in a world that didn’t exist.
Before them was a body of water so still and blue that Elias was surprised. Jutting upward from the surface of the water, and scattered about were countless natural stone pillars many stories high. Wispy trees and other plants grew haphazardly on its uneven surfaces. In the distance, lush green hills separated the sky from the water. The air stirred with energy and lifted scents of lilac and other flowers and bushes. The sun shone brightly in the sky and tingled over Elias’ skin. There were no buildings, houses, or cottages. No other living creature showed themselves, with the exception of the Turul, who, with ease, glided high above on a current. Tas looked at Elias with a grin that stretched across his face.
“This, Elias, is the world we could live in. This place is good, and it brings joy to me. There is nothing mystical about this place—this that does not exist. Look around. There is nothing here that is not in the world—well, other than man. Here, however, is a balance—a harmony. It is the way of nature.”
“This looks nothing like where I’ve been. I mean, my home is beautiful, but this place is, well, it’s different. It definitely doesn’t look like the path that led me here.”
“The path getting here, or there, is the path. Here is here. They do not have to be the same,” Tas said. “And you, too, live in beauty, but it is an island if you know what I mean,”
“An island?”
“Why yes. The world is full of islands of beauty—could be a place…or people, but nevertheless, they are islands that could be joined.”
Elias walked to the edge of the water, knelt down, cupped the water, and drank. “So this isn’t real?” Not waiting for an answer, Elias turned, looked behind him, and continued. “And just right there,” Elias pointed to the direction, he presumed, where he came, “beyond that rock is where I came from, and it was real. This is all very bizarre. What is this place, and why did Nattymama send me here?”
“In due time, Elias. In due time you will learn about the powers of this nonexistent place, this matrix, and why Nattymama sent you here.” Elias stood and walked to where Tas was now sitting. Elias’ stomach felt heavy, and his mind clouded over. He looked from side to side and then folded his arms across his chest.
“Who are you? Better yet, what are you?” Elias asked.
“I’m Tas! Simple as that, but I’ve been described in so many ways. Some call me a dabbler in magic, a sorcerer, a magician, and some have called me a mystic. I am none of those or perhaps all of those. I hope I am more. I am a man.”
“Okay, TAS—a man. That’s your answer to my question? I mean, really…”
Tas bounced up and spun around one time with his arms outstretched, “Okay, okay, Elias, you deserve more. I am a man who works to uncover what could be. I am a man who finds balance. I am a man who learns to come closer to the creator of the universe. I am a man who finds kindness and compassion should drive our actions. I am a man who works for good.”
“So you are a holy man? A priest or rabbi or someone like that?”
“Again, those are mere labels. Ah, ah, you are quite inquisitive. You are a curious soul, and I see you are ready for much more. I will let you in on a secret. Scientists, and the like, know that we humans use a tiny percent of our brains on any good day. You’ve heard that?”
“Yes, I’ve heard something like that.”
“Well, I have uncovered the truths that allow us to use more than a small percent of what we have upstairs. It is when we connect our thoughts with the most powerful energy in our own bodies—our heart—that moves us closer to realizing what our power really looks like.”
“Awesome. But I don’t know what that means. Now, will you give me what I need so I can get out of here?” Elias asked and shook his head.
“In due time. I am here for you, Elias. You will learn to help yourself, as I will find joy in being your guide. When we know ourselves, we may truly know our rightful direction. No need for you to be an island in the hideous sea that is the world.”
Clearly, he did not pay attention to Tas’ last words, as Elias asked, “So—this place, you said it doesn’t exist?”
“Let me put it this way. You cannot understand this place because you live in a world where man, too often, makes the meaningless appear to be desirable. This is a shame. Many times, because of his tiny brainpower, man doesn’t consider the water, the sky, the air, the fire, the animals, or the insects that slither about. We need all of these things. Where you are now— this non-place—I would have to say is meaningful and, as such, doesn’t exist. At least it doesn’t exist beyond the boundaries. With exceptions, this is a place that the living rarely comes to.”
“Huh?”
“Never mind that for now…this place is easy to figure out. Your world is confusing. Man, because of man and no other reason, lives in opposites. We have love, so we have hate. We have rich, so we must have poor. We have beauty, and we have what is ugly. We have good, and therefore, we must have evil. It would be absurd of me to say because we have air, we have love, and because we have hate, we have water…man can’t seem to stop comparing. This is all up to a man.”
Elias walked back to the water’s edge, turned to Tas, and asked, “Are you saying we must know how to make sense of these opposites?”
“Yes, as long as man exists. But I am actually saying much more. First, man must learn to balance the opposites. If not, we are doomed. We must always fight against what is wrong, even though what is wrong may live with us forever. We might never be able to destroy what is evil, but that doesn’t give us any reason to stop fighting for what is good. Our choices make us who we are, not what surrounds us.”
I am a fiction writer and the author of five books. My writing draws inspiration from the beauty surrounding us all—both in nature and in each other. Spirituality, friendship, love, and our connection to the universe inspire me to write. Here’s more about me and my books.
Drawing from that post, where I shared some of the quotes I found for my book, I want to share a few more. These quotes cover topics such as: Simplicity and Living in the Ordinary, Happiness, Imagination, Compassion, Truth, Humility, Friendship, Kindness, Forgiveness, and Love.
Photo by Parker Coffman
Over Five Hundred of the Best Quotes Ever
Quotes are relatable because they are simple, powerful words that, regardless of culture, religion, or upbringing, help show how little separates us. Many times, they remind us to let go and live inspired lives.
Quotes tug at our emotions and serve as a kind of balm for what ails us.
They give us validation when, unfortunately, others miss the chance to do so.
The connection they create is incredible, as some of the greatest minds over a thousand years have thought and felt the very same things as us.
We all strive for the same things in life, no matter our upbringing, religion, culture, or circumstances.
Folks, we’re in this together; we are the same.
Enjoy exploring some of the best quotes ever!
Simplicity and Living Ordinarily
Mental toughness is many things. It is humility because it behooves all of us to remember that simplicity is the sign of greatness and meekness is the sign of true strength. Mental toughness is spartanism with qualities of sacrifice, self-denial, dedication. It is fearlessness, and it is love.
–Vince Lombardi
Human subtlety will never devise an invention more beautiful, more simple or more direct than does Nature, because in her inventions, nothing is lacking and nothing is superfluous. Simplicity is the ultimate sophistication.
–Leonardo da Vinci
Simplicity in character, in manners, in style; in all things the supreme excellence is simplicity
-Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
There is no greatness where there is no simplicity, goodness and truth.
–Leo Tolstoy
All great change in America begins at the dinner table.
–Ronald Regan
Simplicity is the final achievement. After one has played a vast quantity of notes and more notes, it is simplicity that emerges as the crowning reward of art.
–Frederic Chopin
It’s true. I’m a simple person. Some people tend to live from trauma to trauma, and that energizes them. I have a hectic schedule, but my mind seeks simplicity – like being in nature, a long bike ride, or sitting on the back porch.
–Amy Grant
Take care of the little things and the big things will take care of themselves.
–Aesop – The Astrologer
What we have to learn to do, we learn doing.
–Aristotle
Happiness
Be content with your lot.
–Aesop – The Fox and the Crab
Happiness is when what you think, what you say, and what you do are in harmony.
–Mahatma Gandhi
There is no value in life except what you choose to place upon it and no happiness in any place except what you bring to it yourself.
–Henry David Thoreau
Happiness can exist only in acceptance.
-George Orwell
To enjoy good health, to bring true happiness to one’s family, to bring peace to all, one must first discipline and control one’s own mind. If a man can control his mind he can find the way to Enlightenment, and all wisdom and virtue will naturally come to him.
–Buddha
Many persons have a wrong idea of what constitutes true happiness. It is not attained through self-gratification but through fidelity to a worthy purpose.
–Helen Keller
Happiness is not a goal; it is a by-product.
–Eleanor Roosevelt
Imagination
Everything you can imagine is real.
–Pablo Picasso
Imagination is more important than knowledge.
–Albert Einstein
Reason is the natural order of truth; but imagination is the organ of meaning.
–C.S. Lewis
Compassion
Our own brain, our own heart is our temple; the philosophy is kindness.
–Dalai Lama
Forget injuries, never forget kindness.
–Confucius
The individual is capable of both great compassion and great indifference. He has it within his means to nourish the former and outgrow the latter.
–Norman Cousins
I believe that man will not merely endure. He will prevail. He is immortal, not because he alone among creatures has an inexhaustible voice, but because he has a soul, a spirit capable of compassion and sacrifice and endurance.
–William Faulkner
The whole idea of compassion is based on a keen awareness of the interdependence of all these living beings, which are all part of one another, and all involved in one another.
-Thomas Merton
Truth
Whatever is, is right.
–Alexander Pope
We can easily forgive a child who is afraid of the dark; the real tragedy of life is when men are afraid of the light.
–Plato
From the evening breeze to this hand on my shoulder, everything has its truth.
–Albert Camus
Let anyone among you who is without sin be the first to throw a stone.
–Jesus
Humility
We often make much of the ornamental and despise the useful.
–Aesop – The Stag and His Reflection
Humility must always be the portion of any man who receives acclaim earned in the blood of his followers and the sacrifices of his friends.
–Dwight D. Eisenhower
Humility is the foundation of all the other virtues hence, in the soul in which this virtue does not exist there cannot be any other virtue except in mere appearance.
–Saint Augustine
Power is dangerous unless you have humility.
–Richard J. Daley
There is no gardening without humility. Nature is constantly sending even its oldest scholars to the bottom of the class for some egregious blunder.
–Alfred Clayton
Friendship
Don’t walk behind me; I may not lead. Don’t walk in front of me; I may not follow. Walk beside me that we may be as one.
–Ute saying
Friendship is a single soul dwelling in two bodies.
-Aristotle
The only way to have a friend is to be one.
–Ralph Waldo Emerson
I have friends in overalls whose friendship I would not swap for the favor of the kings of the world.
–Thomas A. Edison
But friendship is precious, not only in the shade, but in the sunshine of life, and thanks to a benevolent arrangement the greater part of life is sunshine.
–Thomas Jefferson
Kindness
No act of kindness, no matter how small, is ever wasted.
-Aesop – The Lion and the Mouse
Human kindness has never weakened the stamina or softened the fiber of a free people. A nation does not have to be cruel to be tough.
–Franklin D. Roosevelt
Kindness is more important than wisdom, and the recognition of this is the beginning of wisdom.
–Theodore Isaac Rubin
Kindness and faithfulness keep a king safe, through kindness his throne is made secure.
–King Solomon
Kindness is the language which the deaf can hear and the blind can see.
–Mark Twain
That best portion of a man’s life, his little, nameless, unremembered acts of kindness and love.
–William Wordsworth
Forgiveness
Forgiveness is the key to action and freedom.
–Hannah Arendt
Life is an adventure in forgiveness.
–Norman Cousins
Forgiveness is the answer to the child’s dream of a miracle by which what is broken is made whole again, what is soiled is made clean again.
–Dag Hammarskjold
To err is human; to forgive, divine.
–Alexander Pope
He that cannot forgive others breaks the bridge over which he must pass himself; for every man has need to be forgiven.
-Thomas Fuller
Love
There is no remedy for love but to love more.
–Henry David Thoreau
Love takes up where knowledge leaves off.
–Saint Thomas Aquinas
To love another person is to see the face of God.
–Victor Hugo
Love sought is good, but given unsought, is better.
–William Shakespeare
The greatest pleasure of life is love.
-Euripides
Love has features which pierce all hearts, he wears a bandage which conceals the faults of those beloved. He has wings, he comes quickly and flies away the same.
–Voltaire
Love is a chain of love as nature is a chain of life.
–Truman Capote
Where there is love there is life.
–Mohandas Gandhi
Without love in your life, you have nothing.
–Wynonna Judd
Love is life. And if you miss love, you miss life.
–Leo Buscaglia
Meditation and Prayer
You become what you think about all day long.
–Ralph Waldo Emerson
If you begin to live life looking for the God that is all around you, every moment becomes a prayer.
–Frank Bianco
Prayer for many is like a foreign land. When we go there, we go as tourists. Like most tourists, we feel uncomfortable and out of place. Like most tourists, we therefore move on before too long and go somewhere else.
–Robert McAfee Brown
It is the prayer of my innermost being to realize my supreme identity in the liberated play of consciousness, the Vast Expanse. Now is the moment, Here is the place of Liberation.
–Alex Grey
Prayer indeed is good, but while calling on the gods a man should himself lend a hand.
–Hippocrates
Prayer is a thought, a belief, a feeling, arising within the mind of the one praying.
–Ernest Holmes
I like the silent church before the service begins better than any preaching.
–Ralph Waldo Emerson
Experiences
Human beings, who are almost unique in having the ability to learn from the experience of others, are also remarkable for their apparent disinclination to do so.
–Charles Adams
If we could sell our experiences for what they cost us, we’d all be millionaires.
–Abigail Van Buren
Life is the art of drawing without an eraser.
–John W. Gardner
Nothing is a waste of time if you use the experience wisely.
All quotes within this manuscript have been found in publications and the internet and remain the intellectual property of those to whom they have been attributed. Usage of all quotations adheres to the fair use copyright principle.
Share your favorite quotes in the comment section below!
About E.G. Kardos
I am a fiction writer and the author of five books. My writing draws inspiration from the beauty surrounding us all—both in nature and in each other. Spirituality, friendship, love, and our connection to the universe inspire me to write. Here’s more about me and my books.
Storytelling within a story. What’s that all about?
Many of the most powerful stories ever told feature a mentor who guides the protagonist throughout their journey. Don’t we all love mentors, both in real life and in fiction? I know I do.
Hopefully we’re connected with some amazing women and men who help us along the complex jounrey of our lives. A few names come to my mind who guided me at various times of my life, and they have made a difference. I bet you can rattle off a name or two as well.
In literature, thse mentors are crucial to the flow of the story, and many times, they are characters who we love.
Some fictional favorites come to mind: Gandalf, Yoda, Miss Jean Brodie, Haymitch, Mr. Keating,Helen Burns and Dumbledore. Great stories with memorable characters.
There are so many more who enrich the stories we read, we tell and we see.
Common Qualities
Mentors in books inspire the protagonists’ ongoing journey of understanding, growth, transformation, and connection to their true selves. They help the character make sense of their relationship with a power greater than themselves… and we get to experience a spectacular ride.
Photo by Trưởng Bản Review
All mentors we meet in fiction share the common quality of possessing a strong and natural desire to give of themselves for someone else’s benefit.
Above all, they have wisdom and that’s why they guide the protagonist with storytelling within the story .
They know how to build genuine and healthy trust, and their timing is perfect. They understand exactly when, where, and how to share their wisdom to the protagonist at that very moment they need it the most.
Like Us, Protagonists Learn Through Stories
Storytelling within the story is done with vivid imagery, with allegory and symbolism. Sometimes these stories push the protagonist to act or give them a signal or clue of what’s to come. Sometimes it just to teach and to remind the protagonist of what they may already know.
They Build Trust and are Relatable
Mentors, with their stories, build trust. Relatable, mentors often reveal their own weaknesses and flaws. They are like the protagonist in some way–and they are like us.
If a mentor doesn’t show compassion or has empathy, they are not a mentor.
Wisdom is knowledge tempered by experience, and because of this, they make sound judgments. But they can’t tell the protagonist this.
Oh no, they must find out on their own.
So there story within the story is crucial for the protagonist to begin to understand themselves, their purpose and their quest.
The protagonist of the stories we love, keep the ideas and the stories the mentor shares in the forefront of their minds as they decide the best move to take on their, sometimes, lonely path.
Lonely or not, their path is usually dangerous, complex and tricky so, even with a mentor and their sage advice, it is not easy.
In the series, The Elias Chronicles, Elias’ mentor is Zoltan. The sorcerer, guides Elias through dark and uncertain times to help him to understand why he must take his journey—one he reluctantly began.
Here’s an example of storytelling with a story. Enjoy a chapter from the first book, The Amulet: Journey to Sirok in this trilogy where Zoltan tells a story to Elias about The Tree of Life.
Exhausted from their journey to and from Budapest, Elias slept late the next morning. When he rose, the only sign of Zoltan was the breakfast coffee being kept warm on hot coals and a hardboiled egg on a small plate. Elias ate in silence.
He walked out of the cave into bright sunshine and sat on the ground under The Tree of Life in solitude with his thoughts. He sat at the exact spot he had fallen to his worst fear. Cimbora lay at his feet.
Trying desperately to tie together all his experiences, he brooded and wondered whether or not he was ready to confront the Sarkany. Zoltan walked up the path in silence and sat on a stump about twenty paces away. Minutes passed.
“Elias, do you know why I am able to rest my weary bones on this old and decaying stump?”
Elias looked up at him, said nothing but answered him by shaking his head.
“Fear, Elias, fear.”
“Huhh?”
“Legend has it that the enormous tree, or the one which is giving you shade right now, produced a sapling that was growing as a healthy tree. A young boy nurtured the tree and would visit it frequently. It brought him joy to see it grow, weathering harsh winters and dry summers. That sapling grew for half a century and, as that boy became a man, he came back from time to time. Nevertheless, he would return to sit in solitude to ponder life and reflect on what he found in his soul.
“Although the man did not know for sure, he hoped the tree he cared for was an offshoot of the Tree of Life just mere paces away. Over the years as he watched it grow, he would admire them both—The Tree of Life and the tree he had nurtured. His contribution to its growth humbled him.
“When the man became old, he came back to spend time and sit under the tree with a book. One day when he was hiking to the where the tree grew, he heard a troubling sound. He hastened his approach. He dropped his book and ran, and out of breath he approached the tree. Shocked, he realized it was too late. A young man with an axe had one or two final swings before the tree would fall. To the old man’s horror, he saw the tree that once pointed to the heavens fall to Earth.
“‘What did you do? That was a precious tree and a one-of-a-kind gift to this planet! With all the other trees in this forest, why this one? There must be many trees closer to your home for your fire,’ the old man screamed.
“The young man replied, ‘Oh, this is not for firewood. I had to destroy this tree because I feared its magnificence would overshadow The Tree of Life. It may have become too beautiful and rival what we have come to know and depend on.’
“‘You idiot!’ the old man said. ‘You fear the wrong thing. Fear not what may become beautiful and magnificent. There’s plenty of room for what is good. Embrace it and become part of it. Destroying what might be, dishonors today and disregards our hope for tomorrow.’
“With that last swing only moments earlier, the old man knew, then, that there was nothing he could have done to save the life of the tree. There was only one place the old man could go from there—forward. With great difficulty and from a place of grace, the old man forgave the young man for his foolish wrongdoing, lowered his head, and he walked away in great sorrow.
“A month later, the old man came back with renewed joy in his heart knowing that the time he had spent nurturing the tree and sitting under her shade during his long life gave him refuge from a tired and fearful world. For that, he was grateful, and this memory would be cherished. However, on this day, he brought with him a sapling that he knew he would never live long enough to enjoy its shade but knew others would. He planted it and took care of it until he died. Some say they still see the man in the woods. Some say they feel his presence.”
“So, Zoltan, which tree did he plant?”
“It is the tree to my right. It is the tree that is home to the songbirds which bring me such delight. Listen, I hear one singing.”
Elias looked up and saw a beautiful tree, and then back to Zoltan. The music of the songbird came to the forefront and the air was full of life. They smiled.
“Do you know what else the old man realized?”
“I think so.”
“Good Elias. Well?”
“This is just my guess, but aren’t all trees…well all things, like The Tree of Life.”
“How so?”
“We live on a round ball. Doesn’t that make us all at the center of the world?” Elias asked.
“Precisely. All beings are of value and have their place—no being is more worthy than another. I see you have been thinking. Now do you see what I am talking about?”
“Little by little. I’m starting to understand myself,” said Elias
“Good, Elias, good! Will you tell me what you have learned from your experiences of your quest so far?”
“My deepest fear is not failure to follow the path to my dream. My true fear is what will become of me if I succeed. If I follow my heart, will others still love me for who I will become? Will I be able to handle success? Will I be honest and kind? Will I become arrogant? Will I still be me?”
“My dear man, let me add that we do a disservice to ourselves and the light of humanity that has come before us, to purposefully be anything less than our authentic self. We cannot strive to be anything less than who we truly are.”
“Understanding is one thing—doing it is another,” Elias said.
“Yes, Elias you are right. I am embarrassed to say this is why I lost my finger. The finger that made me different and reminded me of who I was and still am. I so desperately wanted to be like the others that I…that I…”
“Say no more,” interrupted Elias.
“What I will say is that I regret my actions. I don’t want you to regret yours. So, as I see it, you have no choice in the matter. We must love ourselves enough to fully embrace our true nature. As our self-belief magnifies, we attract others to our light.”
“Zoltan, you have it all together.”
“Elias, a day does not go by without reminding myself what makes my heart beat. Our very nature is genuine—it’s real. It is how we were made.
“I now know the significance of the amulet,” said Elias.
“Shush, Elias. Since you know, and I know, we have no need to discuss it—do we?”
Let me know what you think in the comments section below.
I am a fiction writer and the author of five books. My writing draws inspiration from the beauty surrounding us all—both in nature and in each other. Spirituality, friendship, love, and our connection to the universe inspire me to write. Here’s more about me and my books.
Quotes say so much without taking up a lot of space on the page. Wouldn’t it be awesome if we could express our thoughts in a sentence or two rather in a lengthy disertation?
Often, I find myself searching for a quote for various reasons. Like me, I bet you stop, read a quote, and take a moment to reflect on it. Sometimes, you smile afterward; sometimes, you feel puzzled; and sometimes, it’s something else entirely.
Not Long Ago
I was searching for a quote for the book I wrote, Zen Master Next Door: Parables for Enlightened Everyday Living. It’s a book of seventeen short stories that suggest spiritual growth can be found in the most unexpected places, such as a child’s reaction to an event, a stranger who enters our lives, or even our neighbor next door.
Tongue in Cheek
The stories are a little tongue-in-cheek to keep the reading light, and I must admit, they were fun to write. While the stories and the simple idea I used for each are straightforward, the message is anything but fluff.
Using everyday, relatable situations, I aimed to show how we all strive for the same things, regardless of our background, socioeconomic status, or where we are in life.
Here’s the thing about searching for a quote: once I started, instead of finding one perfect quote I thought would demonstrate this concept, I began searching for a quote for each of the stories.
And it Snowballed
I became so immersed that I decided to add, not one or two but many quotes throughout. I even created a section in the book filled with quotes that highlight the very human parts of our lives—quotes about our journey, love, loss, wisdom, and determination, to name a few
—and I found quotes from diverse people as a true reflection of each aspect of our humanity.
Five Hundred plus
The more I delved into it, the more I realized that we all want and need the same things, no matter who we are. While searching for quotes, I compiled about five hundred that support the idea that simple, powerful words—regardless of culture, religion, or upbringing—help reveal how little separates us and remind us to let go and live inspired lives.
Through this search for quotes, I enjoyed writing a unique book full of stories that reflect the best parts of who we are, supported by quotes from those known to many of us. Here are some of the quotes in Zen Master Next Door.
So, if you’re searching for a quote, take a look at these…more to come in a future post.
The Journey
Mountains should be climbed with as little effort as possible and without desire, the reality of your own nature should determine the speed. If you become restless, speed up. If you become winded, slow down, you climb the mountain in an equilibrium between restlessness and exhaustion. Then, when you’re no longer thinking ahead, each footstep isn’t just a means to an end but a unique event in itself.
Robert Pirsig
In rivers, the water that you touch is the last of what has passed and the first of that which comes; so with present time.
Leonardo da Vinci
It’s taken me all my life to learn what not to play.
Dizzy Gillespie
Our life is a long and arduous quest after the truth and the soul requires inward restfulness to attain its full height.
Mahatma Gandhi
Yes we can.
Barack Obama
May your trails be crooked, winding, lonesome, dangerous, leading to the most amazing view. May your mountains rise into and above the clouds.
Edward Abbey
Today
Learn from yesterday, live for today, hope for tomorrow. The important thing is not to stop questioning.
Albert Einstein
Never let yesterday use up too much of today.
Will Rogers
The past, the present and the future are really one: they are today.
Harriet Beecher Stowe
The future starts today, not tomorrow.
Pope John Paul II
Carpe diem, quam minimum credula postero.
Translation: Seize today, and put as little trust as you can in the morrow.
Horace
Knowledge and Wisdom
Seek Wisdom, not knowledge. Knowledge is of the past, wisdom is of the future.
Lumbee saying. “Lumbee” is the name of a Native American tribe in North Carolina.
Knowledge comes, but wisdom lingers.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
As soon as a man does not take his existence for granted, but he holds it as something unfathomably mysterious, thought begins.
Albert Schweitzer
To know that you know, and to know that you don’t know—that is the real wisdom.
Confucius
Doubt
Modest doubt is called the beacon of the wise.
William Shakespeare
Believing hath a core of unbelieving.
Robert Williams Buchanan
Laugh at yourself, but don’t ever aim your doubt at yourself. Be bold. When you embark for strange places, don’t leave any of yourself safely on shore. Have the nerve to go into unexplored territory.
Alan Alda
Determination
Self help is the best help. Heaven helps those who help themselves.
Aesop – Hercules and the Wagoner
One of the things I learned the hard way was that it doesn’t pay to get discouraged. Keeping busy and making optimism a way of life can restore your faith in yourself.
Lucille Ball
What saves a man is to take a step. Then another step.
C.S. Lewis
It’s all about the attitude, gut, heart and determination to go out and give 120% every time to try and help the team win.
Bo Jackson
Faith and Hope
Faith has to do with things that are not seen and hope with things that are not at hand.
Saint Thomas Aquinas
Hope is the thing with feathers
That perches in the soul.
And sings the tune
Without the words,
and never stops at all.
Emily Dickinson
While there’s life, there’s hope.
Cicero
Optimism is the faith that leads to achievement. Nothing can be done without hope and confidence.
Helen Keller
Believe in yourself! Have faith in your abilities! Without a humble but reasonable confidence in your own powers you cannot be successful or happy.
Norman Vincent Peale
Not truth, but faith, it is that keeps the world alive.
Edna St. Vincent Millay
To disbelieve is easy; to scoff is simple; to have faith is harder.
Louis L’Amour
Gentleness
The greatest strength is gentleness.
Iroquois saying
Only the weak are cruel. Gentleness can only be expected from the strong.
Leo Buscaglia
Nothing is so strong as gentleness, nothing so gentle as real strength.
Saint Francis de Sales
Gentleness is the antidote for cruelty.
Plato
Peace
Peace comes from within. Do not seek it without.
Buddha
Death is more universal than life; everyone dies but not everyone
lives. Do not fear death so much, but rather the inadequate life.
From The Mother by Bertolt Brecht
There can never be peace between nations until there is first known that true peace which is within the souls of men.
Black Elk, Native American
For where your treasure is, there will your heart be also.
The Bible, Matthew 6:21
While I thought that I was learning how to live, I have been learning how to die.
Leonardo da Vinci
Self
Those who would mend other, should first mend themselves.
Aesop – The Quack Toad
Seek not good from without; seek it within yourself or you will never find it.
Epictetus
Ye shall know the truth, and the truth shall make you free.
The Bible, John 8:32
You only grow when you are alone.
Paul Newman
If we lose love and self respect for each other, this is how we finally die.
Maya Angelou
There are three things extremely hard: steel, a diamond, and to know one’s self.
Benjamin Franklin
When wealth is lost, nothing is lost; when health is lost, something is lost; when character is lost, all is lost.
Billy Graham
Friendship with one’s self is all important, because without it one cannot be friends with anyone else in the world.
Eleanor Roosevelt
Introspection
The night wind with the big dark curves of the night sky in it, the night wind gets inside of me and understands all of my secrets.
Carl Sandburg
Who looks outside, dreams; who looks inside, awakes.
Carl Jung
I was always looking outside myself for strength and confidence, but it comes from within, It is there all the time.
Anna Freud
We forge gradually our greatest instrument for understanding the world – introspection. We discover that humanity may resemble us very considerably – that the best way of knowing the inwardness of our neighbors is to know ourselves.
Walter Lippmann
On being human
We are what we believe we are.
C.S. Lewis
We can live without religion and meditation, but we cannot survive without human affection.
Dalai Lama
All I can say about life is, Oh God, enjoy it!
Bob Newhart
The essence of being human is that one does not seek perfection.
George Orwell
A human being is a deciding being.
Viktor E. Frankl
The ideas that have lighted my way have been kindness, beauty and truth.
Albert Einstein
You don’t have a soul. You are a Soul. You have a body.
C.S. Lewis
The mind is never satisfied with the objects immediately before it, but is always breaking away from the present moment, and losing itself in schemes of future felicity… The natural flights of the human mind are not from pleasure to pleasure, but from hope to hope.
Samuel Johnson
Giving
God gave us each a song.
Ute saying
Nothing that you have not given away will ever be really yours.
C.S. Lewis
For it is in giving that we receive.
St. Francis of Assisi
Time and money spent in helping men to do more for themselves is far better than mere giving.
Henry Ford
Pity may represent little more than the impersonal concern which prompts the mailing of a check, but true sympathy is the personal concern which demands the giving of one’s soul.
Martin Luther King Jr.
I had found a kind of serenity, a new maturity… I didn’t feel better or stronger than anyone else but it seemed no longer important whether everyone loved me or not – more important now was for me to love them. Feeling that way turns your whole life around; living becomes the act of giving.
Beverly Sills
Let us not be satisfied with just giving money. Money is not enough, money can be got, but they need your hearts to love them. So, spread your love everywhere you go.
Mother Teresa
I have many more quotes in Zen Master Next Door, so I’ll post round two of Searching for a Quote soon.
All quotes within this manuscript have been found in publications and the internet and remain the intellectual property of those to whom they have been attributed. Usage of all quotations adheres to the fair use copyright principle.
Share your favorite quotes in the comment section below!
About E.G. Kardos
I am a fiction writer and the author of five books. My writing draws inspiration from the beauty surrounding us all—both in nature and in each other. Spirituality, friendship, love, and our connection to the universe inspire me to write. Here’s more about me and my books.
“Tell me one last thing,” said Harry. “Is this real? Or has this been happening inside my head?”
Dumbledore beamed at him, and his voice sounded loud and strong in Harry’s ears even though the bright mist was descending again, obscuring his figure.
“Of course it is happening inside your head, Harry, but why on earth should that mean that it is not real?”
― J.K. Rowling, Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows
What is real? What is merely just in our heads? I love this quote, not just because I enjoy reading and writing fantasy, but because the question of what is real and what is happening in our heads extends far into our own thoughts and feelings more than, perhaps, we realize.
Sometimes we act on the thoughts in our heads by moving them to the “real” world. Other times, our thoughts sit idling in our heads always to live there and never to see the light of day.
But could both scenarios be real?
Here’s how I interpret this scene in the book and movie:
“Tell me one last thing,” said Harry. “Is this real? Or has this been happening inside my head?”
Photo by Jules Marvin Eguilos
Like most of us from time to time, Harry is unsure of himself and confused about what’s going on around him at that very moment. Or, could it be that he may be a bit fuzzy about all the experiences he has had since he first talked to the snake at the zoo? What’ more, he knows Dumbledore is dead, but he’s with him as they say, in the flesh—talking with him. If it were me, I’d be asking the same thing.
After all, Harry’s a teenager still full of questions rather than answers. Knowing he’s the chosen one, and having been involved in countless supernatural events, doesn’t give him unlimited insights about everything. He keeps questioning his life, as he should.
So when he asks, “Is this real?” what does he mean when he uses the word “this”? I’d like it to mean his entire adventure, his long journey, as well as that specific moment.
But why would he ask, “…has this been happening inside his head?” when the person he’s talking to could also be in his head? Again, I have to believe that Harry is talking about his journey as he has attempted to understand it since he first arrived at Hogwarts School for Witchcraft and Wizardry.
But that’s when Dumbledore says so matter-of-factly…
“Of course it is happening inside your head, Harry,…”
But the defining moment comes when Dumbledore finishes his sentence and says,
“… but why on earth should that mean that it is not real?”
So, what is real? According to the “greatest wizard who ever lived”? Simply put, everything.
And that’s all Harry needed to hear to complete his task.
As the wise wizard, he might be saying more
Dumbledore might be talking to Harry, but he’s also talking to us. He might be saying to us as well that what we find inside ourselves is real as well. We might not be able to touch it, smell it, hear it, taste it, or see it, but it’s as real as we are.
It’s how we interpret life that makes it magical—or not.
I love this quote because it makes so much sense to me. The magic of our lives isn’t what’s right in front of us; it’s how we feel about what’s right in front of us. Our emotions are powerful, and they drive our actions.
When we feel strongly about something, we do something about it even if it seems impossible. We act out of love, we act out of fear, or with great hope. Sometimes we act with anger or despair, but we always act on what is in front of us because of what is inside our head—and heart. Our emotions make it real.
If a thought is not in our heads, where else would we find the inspiration, drive, or desire to act?
One may not agree with me or may have an entirely different interpretation of this quote, and that is fine…no, that’s wonderful. Let me know what you think.
I am a fiction writer and the author of five books. My writing draws inspiration from the beauty surrounding us all—both in nature and in each other. Spirituality, friendship, love, and our connection to the universe inspire me to write. Here’s more about me and my books.
I’m certain that fantasy fiction and real life are inseparable. First of all, I should say that real life is full of conflict, split-second decisions, emotional upheavals, villains, and monsters. Real life is about doom, redemption, joy, and sorrow. Loss, power, injustices, and morality are all part of real life.
Unless you are completely unacquainted with fantasy fiction or movies, you will agree that fantasy fiction includes all the above and more.
Thus, fantasy fiction and real life are one and the same.
But some readers and critics say fantasy fiction is mere escapism. They want something “real”. Well, I’ll say it is a good escape as are other sub genres in fiction, but it is so much more than that. It is about real-life issues, but most time these real-life issues are displayed with more color and, perhaps, in a more satisfying way. There, I said it.
It’s a Mirror
In fantasy fiction, writers use supernatural, whimsical, and bizarre settings primarily to reflect our lives and everything within them in a relatable and intriguing way.
Dragons aren’t just creatures that spit fire; they symbolize something larger and sometimes more sinister. Other times they represent something entirely the opposite. The evil sorcerer isn’t just some strange outsider to ignore but represents the evil and injustices we should stand against. Living in 2025, we should be able to connect with, as well as look for such symbolism in fantasy fiction.
Universal Themes
If you’re human, you can relate to themes such as power, loss, social injustice, death, birth, love, and hope. Using symbolism the author shines a light on these themes as they are brought to life for the reader to ponder, but with some distance. This distance is what lies between the symbol and what it represents. It makes us think—to feel—rather than the representation being spelled out.
This distance is powerful.
The reason readers keep coming back to fantasy and fiction of all sorts is that universal themes are the engine that propels not only a good story, but gives our lives substance.
Here’s Why Fantasy Fiction Can Feel so Much Like Real Life
Commentary of our world
You may have heard the term “world-building”. Authors may design a fictional world to critique real-world social structures to include the political climate, the social focus and the internal landscape within the character to project a very human story.
Sometimes these worlds depict oppression, rebellion, inequality, and other injustices. These fantastical worlds are thought-provoking and real.
Belief Systems
We all have them. The structures we need to build walls around our lives and to make sense of them. Hopefully, these walls have doors and arches so that we may pass through them and attempt to understand other belief systems that we don’t hold as our own.
These structures are religions, politics, and various other associations we “need” or seek out in our lives. Fantasy fiction uses these structures that are near and dear to us to tell a story. Good versus evil comes to mind.
Basic Human Emotions
Fantasy stories are deeply embedded in the human experiences. Love and loss, trust and betrayal, ambition and indifference and the mere struggles we have getting from one point to another.
The Characters
Like in all fiction, fantasy fiction allows us to experience life through the eyes of a character that we have come to love, and by doing so, we feel for that character. Our empathy grows while reading fantasy fiction we become the hero of the journey. As our compassion grows we begin to understand and are open to others and their struggles beyond the fantasy workd and into the real world.
Although fantasy fiction on the surface seems to many as pure escapism, it is so much more as it reflects our own lives and the world we live in. Like other types of fiction, the aim of the author is similar, but fantasy writers choose to use other ways to tell the story.
Fantasy fiction and real life are the same. There is no way to get around that.
I am a fiction writer and the author of five books. My writing draws inspiration from the beauty surrounding us all—both in nature and in each other. Spirituality, friendship, love, and our connection to the universe inspire me to write. Here’s more about me and my books.
Because a novel is on the New York Times Best Sellers list, does this make it worth reading? I’m not sure. Maybe. Yeah, the list has great books, but with the millions of novels “out there”, this is a very short list to choose from as there are literally millions that could be tagged as a good novel and worth a look.
Maybe it’s time to consider lesser-known novels and begin to add more inventive ways to your next good novel search. Could it be time take a few more risks to find your next read? Frankly, the risk is minimal.
Most “Best Sellers” Lists are Limited
Something close to 4 million new books will be published in 2025 compared to about 2.7 million a decade ago, and only a mere 280,000 in 2005. Wow! Most truly great reads are buried.
Although there are many estimates from a variety of sources on the number of published books, these figures could be off slightly–but not much. But one thing that is certain, they definitely reflect the growth in the publishing industry. If nothing else. it is safe to say that newly published books have grown by 15 times in the US over the last twenty-five years.
Take a Risk and Treat Yourself to Something New and Different
Instead of the old “best sellers” list and everyone’s lists on GoodReads and social media book groups, chart your own course. There’s more to a good novel than the same formulaic, refomatted story. Novels are personal and what one stranger may think is a great read may not be to you. The question should be what resonates with you and NOT what do others say you SHOULD be reading.
I’ve noticed that online book groups, however, only promote the two percent of all books that make up about ninety-eight percent of all sales–the same old same old. That’s kind of boring.
Using a few keywords that describe what you like to read, you could consider going to online to any/many online booksellers and use those keywords and see what comes up. I’m sure you will come up with some intereesting and intriguing possibilities. Plunk down $12.95 (a couple of lattes) and in a few days you’ve got something new to explore..
This may be a “no brainer” but so is the same old same old we hear about all the time.
Lots of Good Books but with Fewer Readers
I have both traditionally and independently published books. I have learned from this journey that very few people read novels, but I still write them. But the stats are staggering.
Less than 40 percent of adults have read one novel in a given year.
More women read than men,
and those woman with a college degree, who earn a higher income and are under 50 years of age, read the most.
Two Requests for Those Who Read Novels
Please encourage others to join you. If not you, who will?
Broaden your scope and take a risk on a novel that you discover, and then tell your friends about it–both those who read and those, sadly that don’t.
If You’re Still Here…
…then you are a reader and in all honesty, keep reading whatever you enjoy. But keep in mind, a good novel is waiting for you and it might not be what everyone else is reading.Take a chance for $12.95.
I am a fiction writer and the author of five books. My writing draws inspiration from the beauty surrounding us all—both in nature and in each other. Spirituality, friendship, love, and our connection to the universe inspire me to write. Here’s more about me and my books.
Nearly sixteen years ago (December 2008) I wrote Bless the Poor as a holiday story. It’s historic fiction about a legendary King. It’s not about a particular religion, but about how we should treat our fellow man. It is about how the powerful, and not so powerful, can help those less fortunate.
Bless the Poor, although written a decade and a half ago about a king and a young boy who lived in an ancient world is timely and a reminder for us in 2025 that we can make a difference. As I learned from my mother as a young boy, everyone needs a helping hand from time to time. She was never a world leader but perhaps should have been.
Bless the Poor, again has nothing to do with religion but all to do with how we treat each other around the world.
Now that I’ve read it again, I think it is a good read for any and every month including December.
Bless the Poor
Based on the legend of Good King Wenceslas
A millennium or so ago, a good man who happened to be the king of Bohemia uncharacteristically rose late the day after Christmas. But his Christmas day was like most others in the past, as he often devoted his time to sharing what he could with others.
As was his custom, he gave his servants the day to themselves. One page, however, insisted on spending the day with the king as he marveled at his wisdom.
As the morning began, the king spent his time in deep introspection and prayer. With great promise, the day began with golden rays of the sun sparkling on the newly fallen snow from Christmas night. But with each passing hour, the day grew bleaker, and the sky became gray. More snow fell. His chamber, though, was warm as his page made frequent visits to stoke the fire giving new life to the failing embers.
The good king told his page, all of thirteen years of age, to rest by the fire he cared for.
“Why do you tend to me when I have declared this day a time for rest and renewal?”
“Why Sire, my faithfulness to you gives me comfort,” said the page.
“You are not like the others,” said the good king.
“You are a righteous man–forgive me, a righteous king, and I am where I should be as I am calmed by your spirit. I see what you do.”
“And I see what you do. You’re a good lad,” said the king with a smile.
The hours passed and after many discussions, the young page nodded off. The king closed his eyes and, too, fell asleep.
The winds picked up in a menacing way and its howl was chilling. Coming out of his sleep, the king peered toward the window. The page was still curled in a ball on a bed of hay in front of the meager fire. The room was becoming dark as the beams of a full moon filled the room.
The erratic winds were laced with the sound of crunching snow just outside the walls. The king walked to the window. He first looked to the bright and ominous sky and saw a well-defined illuminated heavenly body that gave light. He then looked down and saw a fellow man.
photo by Leisan
He summoned his page.
“Page, do you know this man? Who might he be?”
“Sire, he is a mere peasant and lives outside the walls of the kingdom. The man comes out at night to gather the fallen twigs and branches to keep his family warm. He is a good man whom I met. He is from my village, and means no harm for his trespasses.”
“Where is his dwelling?” the king asked gently.
“He lives near the foot of the hills near St. Agnes’ fountain. It is a good league from here,” said the page.
The king stroking his beard thought out loud, “That is an hour by foot on a good day.”
Spinning on his heel, he turned, bent down, and looked in the eyes of the page. “Bring me meats and bring me wine. Gather pine logs too. Tonight, you and I will see him dine.” His eyes gleamed, and with a smile on his face, the page heard the king’s charge and began to assemble the gifts.
They both loaded sacks of meats, breads, pine logs and a small gift and strapped them to their backs. They entered into the night’s foul cry. The wind was stiff, and the snow was clad by an icy crust, giving struggle to the most seasoned traveler. The wind tore at the bare-faced page as he pulled his collar up for warmth.
An hour into their journey, the boy called out, “Sire, the moon now hides, and the wind is wicked. I am afraid. My body is paralyzed with cold and can go no further. Continue on your journey and leave me.”
” This is your journey, too my son.”
With love in his heart, his words lifted the boy.
“Mark my footsteps, my good boy, and tread them ever boldly. Step in my footprints and you’ll find that winter’s rage will diminish. With each step you take you will find your soul will warm; there is nothing you cannot do. Remember, son, just where we’re headed.”
Without a hint of question, the page trod where the king’s newly formed steps were made. Heat came from the very prints where the good king had been.
Not long after, they reached the peasant’s home and shared their bounty and their good spirit. They were invited to stay the night which they did. The family offered their beds, but the king, a humble man slept on a bed of hay. The boy curled up under a worn blanket near the fire.
On the journey home the next morning, the king asked the boy, “Did you defeat the cold as we traveled last night because of my nobility and wealth?”
Without thought, the boy spoke up, “I don’t think so.”
“Why then?” The king nodded with delight waiting for the boy’s reply.
“Because I followed you.”
“Oh? Perhaps it is more than that. Think of it this way, we journeyed together with one purpose and one heart. Your generosity of spirit flowed forth. It was all you, my boy, all you.
The boy looked to the king and smiled.
The king said, “Remember, those like you, my good boy, who bless the poor, shall too find blessings.”
December 21, 2008
About E.G. Kardos
I am a fiction writer and the author of five books. My writing draws inspiration from the beauty surrounding us all—both in nature and in each other. Spirituality, friendship, love, and our connection to the universe inspire me to write. Here’s more about me and my books.
A reader must connect in some way with one or more of the main characters in a book for that reader to keep reading—next word, next paragraph, next page.
As a writer, my hope is that the readers might think, that’s what I would think, too, if some jerk said that to me. Or I’ve always wanted to do that but never dared to. We might even think, I really like this guy—kinda reminds me of….
For me, character development is crucial as my books are character driven. So, first, I want to create characters that in some way resonate with me. If I am successful in doing this, the character has depth and just enough substance so that a reader can grab hold to something about that character that intrigues them as well.
Character Development Takes Some Probing
By probing into and exploring what the character thinks and feels, it is only natural for me to feel connected to the character on a deeper level. During this process, I draw an endless stream of thoughts and feelings from within and use them like bricks to build the character.
The joy of both reading and writing comes from the same place; a well-developed character.
I’m convinced that this is what makes exceptional characters, and it is what most readers want when they choose to invest their time, and heart, into reading.
In Reading, Writing, and Yes, in Real Life Too
Unless you’ve fully immersed yourself in remote work or spend your days and nights only chatting with an AI without a soul on the internet, you meet people in everyday life. This is a good thing because we are social beings. When we meet others and spend just thirty seconds with them, our minds tend to race. We might focus on one word they say, zero in on their eyes or hair—or something physical. Sometimes, we learn more about that person than we want. We wonder if we will see them again or if we hope we never do. Is it fate or coincidence that this person has entered our lives? And what, if anything, do we want to do about it?
In other words, we evaluate the person much like we evaluate characters in a book.
I see, think, and feel a blend between reading, writing, and the “real” world. I want the characters I read about and those I write about to feel as real as the people who come into our lives, whether for a moment or a lifetime.
Because I have written four novels and a book of seventeen short stories, I’ve created many characters. Some are more developed than others, but overall, they are all unique—they are individuals. I’ve crafted characters that, to me, seem so real that when I type the final period of a story, I immediately miss them as if they were living beings.
When you read good fiction, don’t you feel the same?
I am a fiction writer and the author of five books. My writing draws inspiration from the beauty surrounding us all—both in nature and in each other. Spirituality, friendship, love, and our connection to the universe inspire me to write. Here’s more about me and my books.
Our life is all about moments. We string togehter our moments and that is our life. We hope we have more good moments than not, but all of those moments no matter what make us who we are. I try to remember my moments that made a difference for me like the one I had with Bill Moyers .
That one moment — and it was just that, a single moment — that I have never forgotten is when I received a message from the late Bill Moyers, (June 5, 1934 – June 26, 2025).
Photo from the ap
Reaching Out to Bill Moyers
I wrote to Bill Moyers assistant inquiring if he would be interested in accepting a copy of the first book in my fantasy trilogy, “The Amulet: Journey to Sirok”. It didn’t take long before she responded, sharing with me that he would be happy to receive my book.
I sent him the book with this email:
August 4, 2017
Dear Mr. Moyers,
I am very honored to have this opportunity to not only send you my book,The Amulet: Journey to Sirok, but to tell you that The Power of Myth and Joseph Campbell inspired me to write it. I have read the book several times, as well as other books by or about Campbell, but your interview style and questions bring great clarity to the vastness, and sometime complexity, of mythology. Thank you.
My book takes a new spin on the Hero’s Journey as I feel I have written it for our time. This is a time when stereotypes are been thrown to the wind and, those who have their eyes open and looking forward, are embracing humanities beautiful differences.
I would like to urge you to read my story. I hope you can sharewith me your thoughts. Please share with (assistant’s name) that I appreciate her warm and inviting response to me.
Thank you for your consideration, and I hope for only the best to come your way.
Warmly,
Ed Kardos
Ten Days Later, Mr. Moyers Responded
Aug 14, 2017
Dear Mr. Kardos:
Thank you for your generous words about THE POWER OF MYTH and for your book. I look forward to reading it.
My best to you,
Bill Moyers
There are many other articles written about Bill Moyers that reflect the generous and powerful impact he made during his lifetime, but what I found profound was the moment he gave to me. It was both generous and powerful.
Most folks of his stature, and those with far less stature (and we all know who they are), would have dismissed my original email. But in less than two weeks, Bill Moyers not only accepted a copy of my book, thanked me personally, and, according to his assistant, “took the book home”. There’s so much packed into these moments.
He validated my place as a writer.
I meant it when I shared with him: “I have read the book several times, as well as other books by or about Campbell, but your interview style and questions bring great clarity to the vastness, and sometime complexity, of mythology…”.
Those “questions” that brought “great clarity” made all the difference for me
My Take on The Power of Myth
The Power of Myth explores how universal themes and symbols in myths provide insight into our humanity. This includes our relationships with others, the powers of the universe, and ourselves.
The “Hero’s Journey” is analyzed and clearly demonstrates that following one’s bliss has been essential to humanity since our earliest thoughts and will remain so as long as we exist. In other words, myths are just as important today as they were long ago.
As the Hero’s Journey is central to my work, I have read this book and a dozen others about Joseph Campbell’s work many times. I recommend this one in particular because of Bill Moyers’ contributions.
Mr. Moyers made numerous contributions during his lifetime in many areas and we are better off because of him. What a wonderful man.
About E.G. Kardos
I am a fiction writer and the author of five books. My writing draws inspiration from the beauty surrounding us all—both in nature and in each other. Spirituality, friendship, love, and our connection to the universe inspire me to write. Here’s more about me and my books.
I frequently hear the question: if you could talk to your younger self, what would you say? Intriguing, but why ask this question or for that matter, why give it much thought?
After all, we can’t do it — never.
The allure of the question lies in the supposition that we are now wiser; if we could just have a moment back, say from twenty or thirty years ago, we would be able to share our new found wisdom with our younger selves and we would benefit from it. I get it, really I do. Yep, I’d love to be able to do it.
But after some thought I realize it’s just never goning to happen. So I’ve come up with my own twist on this notion.
Photo by Europeana
If you were able to speak to your OLDER self, what would you say? That’s something we can do…well in time.
We all have valuable experiences that we can share, however, not many folks don’t want unsolicited advice no matter how wonderful we think we are. However, we probably don’t, and won’t, mind listening to ourselves so let’s share it with ourselves a little down the road.
No matter how old we are, we have had experiences — both good and bad. Events in our lives have shaped us, bothered us, have even played with us, and at times, questioned our very being.
If we ever reflect and allow for even a modest amount of introversion in our lives, we learn.
We may learn, but we don’t always remember or practice what we learn, as it may be crowded out by the everyday and mundane activities that can overtake the best of us. So, write it down! Keep it tucked away and pull it out and share it with our older self. Your older self will appreciate it as we know it comes from a special place deep within and meant to make our lives more fulfilling down the road.
We Don’t Know When
You’re in the present for goodness sake, and your future may or may not come, but be ready for it as your older self wants to hear from you.
Since the past is gone, I say don’t waste your brain power on what you’d tell your ghost of the past.
What would I say to myself when I’m 67 or 75 or 85 or…? You may be younger than I and may wonder what you might say to the 25, 30, 45, or older you. Whatever you end up saying, it is relevant and important as it meant something to you “back when”. It shows how you thought and how your mind worked. It is a memory that is just yours and it’s worth remembering and repeating, especially to yourself.
Here’s what I’ll say, at least for now
Not only do I want to think of what I “might” say to my older self, I already know some ideas to share. By the way, when I use the word “you” it means “me”.
You were always hard on yourself and if you still are, stop it. Ease up old fella.
You always said that if you had the time, you’d travel the world, so do it–now.
You wondered if your life’s work helped anyone. Hell ya, you spent your work life in a field with a mission to better life for others, and the modest paycheck you brought home, you gave it to your family so that they could have what they needed, and then some, at the time.
So, what if you didn’t write the “great American novel” you sure have hell tried. Who else do you know even attempted writing a book much less finished writing one?
Bucket list or no bucket list, if you haven’t done everything you wanted, don’t worry about it but keep going.
The regrets that are floating around in your head aren’t worth spending time on. Don’t bog yourself down with stuff that could’ve been or might have happened if you had only done this or that.
Thank God you are not a perfectionist and did not live a perfect life. Have you seen those who are and how they lived? Sheesh!
Be who you are even if you couldn’t do it when you were my age.
Chill out, smile through it. I think older folks could smile a bit more–even you.
You ain’t in the 80’s anymore and that’s a good thing wheter you think so or not. It wasn’t as wonderful as you may remember. I know from personal experience even if you think otherwise.
How fortunate you are to have experienced love of and for another and for so long.
Your kids loved you then and still do so don’t even think about it.
You met a lot of people along the way, befriended some and they embraced it or not. They missed out.
The decisions you made along the way were the best for that moment in time so that means THEY WERE the best decsions. So don’t do all that second-guessing.
Hey, I’m telling you these things because I love you AND I know what I’m talking about as I’m talking to you and you’re me—just my older me.
I am a fiction writer and the author of five books. My writing draws inspiration from the beauty surrounding us all—both in nature and in each other. Spirituality, friendship, love, and our connection to the universe inspire me to write. Here’s more about me and my books.
Ah, the gloaming. Twilight…the moment when the day dims its brilliance and welcomes the early shadows of its friendly rival, of sorts, the night.
It’s far more than twilight, dusk, or the setting sun. There’s something more mystical about the moment known as the gloaming. I would say that this peaceful transition of power in nature is even magical. I’ve experienced it, have you?
Photo by Tetyana Kovyrina
Experiencing The Gloaming
First you must be outside and it can be just about anywhere. I prefer where you can observe nature. It costs nothing, but if you’re willing, it just might open a door—a magical door.
First, clear your mind, or the door of enchantment remains closed. Be open to what your internal voice tells you. Your imagination will become heightened. You may even feel “as one” with your surroundings. As we grow older, we lose our natural sense of wonder.
The Gloaming Begins…
When does the gloaming begin or end? Pinpointing those exact moments isn’t easy. I would say that when the day’s clarity becomes muted and loses its luster, and displays for only a few moments blends of blues, purples, and reds, you know it’s the gloaming. It’s a feeling, too, and not a calculated moment that can be recorded.
I love when the sun’s rays lose their intensity, and its light melts into the earth. This is the moment when only what we imagine comes alive. It is a magical moment, that is, if you permit it to be.
After all, that’s what magic is…if you believe in it, you will be part of it.
The magic of the gloaming is poetic…it is lyrical. The moment is enchanting as the fading light dances on the rocks, trees, or a pond, it stirs a sense of awe. The “what ifs” freely enter your mind.
The moment teems with the spirit we all possess as it tugs us into introspection. What we long for comes to mind as we look back on the path the day had to offer. Like that very day, we now loosen our hold of both the good and the bad that the day detailed and eases us into a smooth wholeness of the evening, where the once sharp edges are now softened.
Lightening Bugs
Where I am, in June and only during this month, I am joined by lightning bugs. Just think of their existence. I heard they have been around for 100 million years. It’s really pretty cool. Their flickering presence is unique, and it is dreamlike. Theyare a welcome guest as they are nothing less than magical.
To their potential mate their luminescence is clear and attractive and is the door to future generations. To their predators, however, their light is a signal that if eaten, it will not fare well for the aggressor. Nature is wonderful.
Our Thoughts are the Magic
The gloaming sparks possibilities—some mundane and sensible, while others may be wild and untamed. Our thoughts are the magic. Our feelings float like a mystical aura, and we know there is much we cannot explain, and we are reassured that this is a good thing.
In this vast universe, our knowledge is but a small sliver of what life is all about. As the years progress, we learn more, but we have a long road to travel before us if our goal as humans is to unravel every mystery.
There’s still time to enjoy the magic and mystery in each of us. I hesitate to attempt to dispel all that is magical in our lives and encourage others to consider the same. We just need to slow down and allow our minds to wander. We need the clarity of our future like the lightning bug, and subtly let it be known to our detractors that we are not to be messed with.
I do write fiction, but that doesn’t mean it’s not true.
Note: An Old English word, gloaming, originated with the Scottish and has been used since the Middle Ages in English and Scottish literature.
I am a fiction writer and the author of five books. My writing draws inspiration from the beauty surrounding us all—both in nature and in each other. Spirituality, friendship, love, and our connection to the universe inspire me to write. Here’s more about me and my books.
Several years ago, soon after my first book of my fantasy trilogy was launched, Paulo Coelho responded to an email I sent him with a note of “congratulations and success”. Talking about small miracles, I was in awe.
Coelho happens to be an author I hold in high regard and who has inspired much of my writing, especially in my trilogy, The Elias Chronicles.
Coelho has authored numerous books, but the one that captured my heart was The Alchemist. It was given to me by a dear friend who felt it was important for me to read. I had never heard of the author or the book at the time. Now, I recommend it to all. It is a story of believing in yourself and following your dream.
More Small Miracles
Months later, I sent Coelho a follow-up email. Would I be lucky again and hear back from this known author around the world. I was amazed to hear from him once, but would I hear from him again?
The stars and planets must have been aligned, as I did hear from him once more. With a short note, he sent me a copy of a story that he wrote that was being published in many journals around the world.
Again, I was overwhelmed by his gift to me. His generous action and the simplicity and power of his story inspired me to write Blessing the Poor. A holiday story, which I plan to post in December.
Here’s What I’m Thinking
The book that was given to me by my friend years ago, and Coelho’s generous acts, are testaments of why I believe the way I do; we must take time and value each moment of our lives. But then, we need to do more. We must take it upon ourselves to inspire others to reach for what is good in them and around them.
Not only should we dream, and we should dream, but it is what we do with our experiences that counts much more than the dream. Dreams are just that, dreams, but our experiences make us who we are.
In Coelho’s last message to me in 2008, he ended by telling me, “The Warrior of light concentrates on the small miracles of daily life.” I decided to learn more from his words and read what I found. I contemplated this phrase.
Photo by Alban_Gogh
These are my takeaways
These small miracles are found in our ability to find beauty and appreciate it. Finding joy and fulfillment can be found in the sublime and the mundane. This, I would say, is always found in the moment.
Gratitude need not be for receiving abundance, but for the sliver of good that may pass us by if we are focused on our desires.
The “Warrior of Light” finds beauty in others as they nurture their light within them.
The “Warrior of Light” isn’t always successful, but in failure, they find the light.
We are all intuitive creatures, and when we open ourselves to the voice within and look to the powers of the universe for guidance, regardless of our spiritual beliefs and practices, wisdom is not too far away.
I must remind myself to acknowledge the small miracles of daily life.
I am a fiction writer and the author of five books. My writing draws inspiration from the beauty surrounding us all—both in nature and in each other. Spirituality, friendship, love, and our connection to the universe inspire me to write. Here’s more about me and my books.
“One day, you will be old enough to start reading fairytales again.” ― C.S. Lewis
Have you ever read The Chronicles of Narnia by C.S. Lewis? For that matter, have you ever read any fairytales, fables, myths, legends, folktales or any story that takes you on a magical adventure?
Well, I’m pretty sure we’ve all read a tale or two when we were young. Lucky are those of us who have included these stories—I would include fantasy in this category—in our lives as we’ve moved beyond the innocence of childhood and have experienced the layers of age.
So what did Lewis mean when he said,“One day, you will be old enough to start reading fairytales again.”?
Just as the first few stars that appear in the early night sky are followed by many more, in Lewis’ twelve word quote, we realize there are countless ways to interpret his words. I have a few thoughts to share.
When We First Read Stories of Magic, Marvel, and Mystery
Innocence Lost, but is that Forever?
We all wanted to be that kid—at least I did and still do. You know, the kid with the sword, in the spaceship, the one who went on an adventure and became the hero. Or the kid that found something marvelous and magical—or the one that went back in time, into the future or was a princess or a prince. The kid that won the “golden ticket” or flew with dragons.
As kids we search for magic as we know it is there. It’s a question of how do we get to it. Maybe there’s a special cave, or a hidden door to an undiscovered land. Maybe a wand in a trunk or a map with a code that we can crack. Maybe it is in an old trunk in Grandma’s attic.
But We Grow Up
As we grow older, something changes all that. We decide, or it is decided for us, that the thoughts, feelings and desires of our childhood should be left behind. Grown-ups know best…they know it all and that’s what we should aim for. Yeah, right.
Deeper Layers
What many grown-ups don’t always realize is that there is wisdom in fairytales and stories that take us on magical and mystical adventures. That’s why they were written in the first place–wisdom. This deeper layer of meaning may be missed by children but when it comes to grown-ups, they have no excuse. That’s a good reason to return to such stories.
Just like the simplicity of Lewis’ quote, fairy tales and the like may seem uncomplicated and naïve, but they are full of wisdom.
Wisdom is, unfortunately, a word that is seldom used or valued anymore.
A Place for Magic
When we grow older, the sheen of adulthood fades, however. Sometimes we see this when we are twenty-five, sixty-five or somewhere in between. Don’t get me wrong, the wonders and beauty of life grow exponentially forever, but the powers of some and the structures they impose have a way of ensnaring the best and dampen our journey–our life’s journey that should be filled with riches.
We are here but once, and to live it in a box is unappealing to say the least. If we haven’t yet found magic since we were a kid, whether we are twenty-five or sixty-five, we just might want to pause and ask why. Then look for it once again.
Magic is found in many places, and we don’t have to go far to find it in books both old and new. Wow! What a diversion. What a way to learn what it is to be human. Yes in any story that takes you on a magical adventure?
Thinking About It a Little More
I may have overcomplicated this twelve-word quote. I’m not nearly as elegant as C.S. Lewis but here are my twelve words:
You will find magic if you remember the marvels of your childhood.
It’s time to read a fairytale…a legend…a myth…or any story that takes you on a magical adventure. You deserve it.
I am a fiction writer and the author of five books. My writing draws inspiration from the beauty surrounding us all—both in nature and in each other. Spirituality, friendship, love, and our connection to the universe inspire me to write. Here’s more about me and my books.
There’s genre fiction and then there’s literary fiction. Examples of genre fiction to name a few are: romance, fantasy, science fiction, mystery, thrillers, horror, and adventure fiction. When it comes to literary fiction, there’s really just one kind—literary fiction. There are “types” of literary fiction for instance, there is realistic, philosophical, contemporary and philosophical and something referred to as experimental fiction.
What is Literary Fiction?
Literary fiction is character-driven as opposed to being focused on the plot. Yes, you must have a plot, but it is secondary to the story. When I say “character driven” I am referring to an inward journey the main character takes and whisks the reader off to join them.
photo by Uran Wang
Full of Complexities
If the protagonist isn’t introspective, it’s not literary fiction. This is, in my opinion, the sheer joy of reading—and writing literary fiction. The main character does not react to the event in the story itself, but event spawns a feeling and the feeling manifests into an action.
Metahors, imagery and symbolism help to tell the story and by doing so may lead the reader to personal interpretations. Our own experiences shape the meaning of what we are witnessing just like in all art forms.
More About the Internal Journey
Literary fiction is purely human-centered. This is what makes this type of novel relatable. It makes it significant…important…applicable to our own lives.
Most of our journeys have nothing to do with boarding a plan, getting in a car or taking a train. Most of our journeys are inward as we try to decipher this larger journey we are all on together and that is life.
Who Reads Literary Fiction? And I’m Being General
Too few! Mostly women. Men, not so much.
Nothing against men—I’m one—but come on guys, there’s more to reading books than just science fiction, history, and biographies/memoir, crime and thrillers I should throw in stories about sports and war. Don’t get me wrong, if these are the kind of books you love to read, keep it going as reading is important, but consider mixing it up a little. Try literary fiction.
Having written literary fiction, fantasy and short stories, I’d have to agree that literary fiction is an art form…that it is “serious”. Perhaps folks would argue that all fiction is an art form. When our creative expression come in the form of words and it evokes a feeling in the observer, the reader, it is nothing less than an art form.
While reading literary ficion, our feelings and thoughts could evoke a sense of beauty or just the opposite, as humans are capable of just the opposite and pulling out our dark self. The feeling could inspire, transform or wake up that part of us that is sleeping. Believe me, there’s quite a bit burying in all of us that is fast asleep.
I Also Mentioned it’s “Serious”
Any time we read, or write, about the human condition, it is “serious” whether it’s direct, satirical or somewhere in between. Some things are out of our control and there’s no way around it, so we, and the character, deals with it. Is it how we would deal with it? Maybe.
When we read literary fiction, we are reading about what it is to be human and we see it in the choices the characters of the story must make to continue on our their path. Many times their path is not so different than ours.
My Reminder
Just a reminder, this article is what I learned from writing literary fiction. Others may interpret their knowledge and experience differently than me. That’s the beauty in writing and reading fiction. My thoughts assembled here, just like literary fiction itself, doesn’t end with a neatly tied bow, but I hope it makes us think. It makes us feel.
I am a fiction writer and the author of five books. My writing draws inspiration from the beauty surrounding us all—both in nature and in each other. Spirituality, friendship, love, and our connection to the universe inspire me to write. Here’s more about me and my books.
Although many folks express their love for their mothers on Mother’s Day, I think it should be a daily occurrence in some way. That’s not always easy to do as we get wrapped up in our own world, but we should aspire to do more…always. Something I did as a kid many years ago reminds me of doing this. I thought I’d share it with readers on this Mother’s Day.
Several years after my mom passed away, I uncovered this note and drawing. I would never have remembered writing it or drawing the picture had I not been lucky enough to find this perfectly preserved loose-leaf page. When I first laid eyes on it, memories gushed forward.
I was nine years old when I drew this picture and wrote this note—that was in 1969 some 56 years ago!
A Simple Act
It was infrequent that my mom and dad went out to dinner, but I now vividly recall this particular evening. I am the youngest of four children, and so there were MANY babysitters that night. It was an April evening. Without prompting, I did a chore for my mom. Moments after, I rummaged to find a piece of paper and a pen. For a kid my age, using a pen was new, and I wanted to use one any chance I had. I sat at the kitchen table, pulled my thoughts together, and put pen to paper. I wanted to share my picture of our home, tell her I loved her, and let her know the picture and note were hers to keep.
The Feeling
When this memory had become fresh not long ago, it came with the feelings that I had at that very moment in 1969. Feelings of a little, skinny, and shy kid. Yes, this was very weird! It was not “like” going back in time, it was more like I only knew that time as there was no other.
She Saved It
As I thought more about it, it was clear my mom cherished this gift and what it meant to her as she tucked it away and saved it. Why did she save it? I am not sure, but I have a few guesses. Looking at it today, I am warm with delight, joy, and love. Not because of anything I did, but because she saved it. Our connection was seamless—one.
Maybe she saved it for me to find many years later, when she was gone. Yes, I am certain of that. I was meant to find it these many years later. The thing is, she has never been gone from my life.
So, what about these symbols? The drawing is one thing, but the action of tucking it away is symbolic. As a parent of four myself, I know the value of such a gift. Life would be meaningless without symbols and our actions that express ourselves and our enduring love.
Not Just on Mother’s Day
The sentiments of my 9-year-old self and those of my “mommy” symbolize something powerful that cannot be touched, but it can be held as it has a place in my heart. This treasure represents goodness, life, and light. It’s a symbol of love. It’s for everyday and Mother’s Day.
What Does Love Mean?
Many folks have tried to define “love” but there is no one clear definition. For me, love lasts an eternity as its vibrations that began years ago, or at this moment, continue to move outward and forever. These vibrations trample over the ills it may find on its path. These vibrations are warm and tell us so much if we are open to listening.
It’s not about data, analytics, AI, algorithms, technology and other soulless distractions, but love is about being a part of something spectacular, wonderful and beautifully human.
Love’s Not Perfect
Interestingly, I found the rough draft of this note on the back of another picture I drew so I attached it to the back of this picture and placed it in a frame. Even after my nine-year-old self “practiced” what I wanted to write, in the version I gave my mom, I still made an error. Even after I have practiced, when the curtain goes up, and I step in front of the limelight, I do so in all my vulnerable ways—I like that about me. Never used to, though… I’m sure she knew this about me. This, too, is symbolic as I am imperfect and always have been. Love really isn’t perfect either. It is organic—it’s living, growing, and changing. As we change with it, love never ends. I miss her.
“Our House”, the chore I did without being asked, my imperfections, but most of all, the care she gave this gift and me is, indeed, a symbol that gives my life—and hers—a profound and cherished meaning.
Happy Mother’s Day Mom!
About E.G. Kardos
I am a fiction writer and the author of five books. My writing draws inspiration from the beauty surrounding us all—both in nature and in each other. Spirituality, friendship, love, and our connection to the universe inspire me to write. Here’s more about me and my books.
Mentors are crucial in storytelling, especially in the genre of fantasy. Aside from the “hero” in the story, the mentor is my favorite character. A good villain, for me, comes in third. The mentor and the protagonist’s relationship is special, and that is one reason I chose to share the following excerpt of The Elixir: Journey On. The Elixir is Book III of The Elias Chronicles.
Mentors Carry a Heavy Burden
Good mentors do many things: they guide the protagonist through an evolutionary process by providing experience and knowledge and encourage resourcefulness and independent thinking. They support our hero in any way they can. Wisdom, a characteristic overlooked in the “real” world, is cherished in the fantasy world. Sometimes mentors merely encourage and show they care
All Mentors Posess the Power of Empowerment
Mentors empower the hero to make decisions, and sometimes it may be the wrong choice, but our hero learns from mistakes, and mentors know this.
Ultimately, our hero achieves personal growth even if they can’t save the world—this time.
Some Mentors of Note
Think of Gandalf and Frodo: Dumbledore and Harry; Aslan and Peter, Lucy, Susan, and Edmund; and in each of the three books of The Elias Chronicles, Zoltan and Elias.
I’m sure you have a few mentors in mind as well.
“The black moment is the moment when the real message of transformation is going to come. At the darkest moment comes the light”
Joseph Campbell
In The Elias Chronicles, a reader can start with any book as each is a stand-alone story. Saying that, I think to appreciate Elias’ journey and his development, I’d start with the first book, The Amulet: Journey to Sirok, and then read the second and third in order, The Rings: Journey Beneath Sirok and The Elixir: Journey On. In each you will find the mentor, Zoltan and the hero, Elias as well as many other colorful characters that will help guide or thwart Elias from his quest.
Enjoy the excerpt…and let me know what you think. Who are your favorite mentors?
5
Climb The Stem
Weary from his encounter with the Sea Serpent, Elias stretched out squarely in the middle of the boat’s deck. His thoughts wandered at best, but without notice, they pulled him back to some frightening moments. He, however, felt gratified for untangling the scary event and helping a mom. Images of her huge bony head that disagreed with her graceful cylindrical body were imprinted in his mind. Worst of all was her shriek, and he winced as he brought it to mind. What did it all mean? The serpent—the journal—his exile? Of all places, why was he here? While wondering where land could be hiding, the faces of his friends and family overpowered all his thoughts. All he could think was, will he ever see them again?
Restless, he fiddled with a thick, coarse rope coiled to one side as he looked to the sky. Drained by his rocky voyage, he remained listless on his back as he, biding time, picked up the dagger and examined it closely. Squinting, he focused on every scratch or nuance on the cold metal blade. He delicately touched the tip of his index finger on the tiny point, and as he did, he mouthed the sound ‘ow’ while his nose twisted up on one side. Still on his back, he grabbed the hilt with two hands, and with outstretched arms, he pointed it to the blur of the heavens, ruminating about his first night on Sirok. That’s when he plucked a powerful sword from a secret vault told to him by Nattymama. The sword, he mused, saved his life on a couple of occasions when he skillfully severed the heads of the Sarkany—the three-headed, shape-shifting dragon. “Existo verus ut vestri,” he whispered, followed by, “Be true to yourself. Think of that…that was written on the blade itself, and I didn’t even know it at the time…can’t complain, as it served me well, but this oversized pen knife has done right by me too.”
WHOOSH. At that moment, jarring him from his comfort, he heard a gigantic splash only twenty paces or so from the bow of the boat. The wave it made jostled the little craft as he jumped to his feet. With a wrinkled brow and his jaw hanging low, he peered from side to side. Keeping one eye on the white-capped waves, he reached back to grab his dagger. Bubbles jetted to the surface of the choppy water, and he waited to see if anything would pop up. Only a second later, bobbing before him, the back of a man’s head emerged, gasping uncontrollably for air. Ardently treading water, he turned, and Elias saw who thrashed about before him. He could barely believe his eyes.
“ZOLTAN. Is that really you?”
Zoltan, now exhausted but surprisingly calm, answered Elias. “It is I,” he gasped. “…and I came so very close to landing on the dry planks… of your vessel…right beside you.” Water splashed a few times in his face.
“…but…but I can’t believe it,” Elias said, reacting in amazement.
“Not to be rude, my boy, but I’m not interested in conversing at this point. Be a good man and put down your weapon to throw me a line to welcome me aboard.”
“Oh yeah…sorry.” With a cold slap, Elias was brought back to reality as he hurriedly tied one end of the rope to an iron ring attached to the floorboards of the deck and tossed the bulk of the looped hemp to Zoltan. He wrapped it around his arms, and like a vice, he held on securely with both hands. With somewhat of a struggle, like reeling in a blue marlin, Elias was able to tow Zoltan up and over the edge of the side of the boat. He delivered him safely to the dry deck of the lifeboat. Both Zoltan and Elias collapsed like a sack of potatoes.
“Zoltan, are you alright? What are you doing here? Why is…”
“Not all at once,” Zoltan said, pulling himself up to a seated position, clearing his throat between words and poking his pinky finger in one ear. “I’ve come chasing you, Elias. I sent you here…do you have a blanket in there?” he asked, pointing to the large wooden box.
Elias froze. “Wait, what? You sent me here?” His jaw jutted forward, and he scowled at his guest.
Zoltan kindly smiled and exhaled. He shrugged his shoulders and joined his hands together in a prayerful fashion.
“I knew it. I don’t know why I reacted so surprised. I knew something was up, especially since I found my dagger here, but…why?” Elias said, folding his arms against his chest.
“My good boy, I could see no other way. You have the gift, the donum…now the blanket, if you will.” Zoltan stretched out his shivering hands.
“The donum…the DONUM…this gift is a curse! What else…what else can you tell me?” Elias retrieved a moldy moth-eaten blanket from the box and gently wrapped it around Zoltan’s shoulders.
“If you settle yourself down one iota, I will tell you—you temperamental artists are something else,” he kindheartedly said under his breath.
Elias’ shoulders sank, and he let out a sigh as he sat next to the old man.
“I detected something sinister as the smoke of the kingdom wafted our way,” Zoltan said with an easy monotone. Now for a cup of coffee. Do you have one?”
“What? Coffee? Are you serious? We’re on a banged-up boat in the middle of nowhere. What are you thinking?”
“I see your point,” Zoltan said as he placed his hands one over the other and quickly clapped his upper hand to his lower, at which time a hot pot of steaming coffee and two mugs hovered before them.
“Awesome, Zoltan. You’ll have to teach me that one,” Elias said as he briefly forgot about his frustration with his new and unasked-for adventure.
“Oh, you will learn how and quite a bit more. Now pour the
coffee, and let’s talk,” said Zoltan as a soft, salty breeze gave him a slight stir.
Elias poured the coffee and looked with admiration at his old friend. “So what can you tell me?”
Using both hands to sip from the mug, Zoltan said, “I can tell you very little at this point. I have a morsel of information to share, but not much. Believe me when I say I know very little.”
Short-fused, Elias blurted out, “A morsel. A morsel! You send me here, and YOU CAN’T TELL ME WHY?” You know I was just attacked by a sea serpent and…”
“Good for you, Elias,” Zoltan interjected gleefully, cutting Elias off mid-sentence. “You must have fared quite well as I do not see any hideous blemishes on you, and I don’t see the serpent anywhere,” Zoltan added while looking out to the vast gray rolling waves.
Collecting his thoughts, Elias knew his frayed nerves would lead him somewhere he’d rather keep to himself and took a deep breath. “I’m sorry Zoltan…I’m tired and so… alone.” Elias looked down at his hands, sniffed a few times, and then rubbed his nose. He looked out to the sea as a breeze caught his floppy hair and tousled it in a few directions. “Like I was abandoned until you showed up. I just don’t know what to make of all this. It’s time for me to go home and do what I want to do. I earned it, after all. That’s why I traveled to find you in the first place—to find out who I am and do what I love. And traveling to the Under World to find you and all I did there. I’ve done enough—I’ve earned it.”
“You earned it? Yes, I can see your point. First of all, thank you as you saved me from the clutches of Ordak, and you are quite humble as you set the oppressed folks of the kingdom free. But my good boy, I am sorry to say that, now, those things matter not, at least not for the short run.”
“Huh? I feel my life is out of control.”
“Elias, life is full of the unexpected, but we seem to forget that and think life SHOULD be full of the ‘expected,’ Zoltan said in a very calm but exacting tone. “You are in the middle of, shall I say, a twist and, for that matter, a turn—and perhaps another twist. I must say you are who you are whether you like it or not, and you should think of it as a privilege to be you and grab hold of every moment of your life. It is up to you to make the most of it. Let me pour you another cup of coffee.”
“Okay, okay, but I don’t like it, and I’m not talking about the coffee,” Elias said, sitting back and looking at the sea. It was now quiet as the endless waves that relentlessly wrapped themselves around the boat seemed like a warm embrace as they continued to lap lower against the sides. It was still.
“I know you are unhappy with me, and you have every right to be so, but in the end, you will understand. You will. Trust me.”
Ignoring Zoltan’s words, Elias asked, “So tell me, how is everyone—Kelsa?”
“She is just fine. I managed to redirect both her and Cimbora safely to a place where you will see them soon. Don’t ask me why, as I had to act quickly when Ordak was breathing down our necks—before our dear friends, the Bee People, whisked him away. Oh, that was such a special moment just hearing the hum.” They both laughed and sipped from their cups.
“I think I know the moment—yeah, the exact moment. He almost picked up on what you were doing. I could tell you were doing something, but I had no clue,” said Elias.
“To tell you the truth, I was not so sure myself.” Zoltan winked.
“And the others?” Elias asked abruptly, changing the subject.
“Nattymama and your family are fine. Oh yes, and before I forget, you must understand that time counts differently there versus here. It may seem like only a minute to some but an eternity to others, but this will all be clearer to you later.”
“You haven’t even told me where I’m going.”
“Oh yes. In a moment,” Zoltan replied with a light chuckle. “As far as the others, Lantos and Gaspar are back in their homes, I presume, and Akota is being celebrated by the Seraph people and the former Inhabitants of The Kingdom of Gold. And by the way, passing the ring to him has made all the difference for his people. You have shared the donum, and you have yet to realize your brilliance in doing so.”
Elias smiled, but he quickly looked down at the splintering planks below. Zoltan felt his angst and wanted to comfort him.
“Oh yes, you may long for them and feel you are missing out—but you are not truly missing out as you are where you are supposed to be—that’s the difference. Elias, do not pine for what was or what you think is, nor reach for what you think might be. It is today that matters as we may, most assuredly, count the days we have lived, but we cannot even attempt to count the days ahead of us. Life does, indeed, have a starting point for all, but the endpoint is a mystery. But I dare say, life has a habit of going on whether we like it or not—even if we are in it or not,” said Zoltan.
Elias said nothing but looked fondly at Zoltan, then turned and stared at the horizon. As he nodded, a wide smile came across his face as Zoltan sipped from the mug. At that moment, a sparkling aqua and sapphire-colored dragonfly landed on Elias’ knuckle. Without moving his head, he gazed down at the quiet and majestic creature.
“We must be near land,” Elias’ eyes lit up as he kept still and looked intently at the dragonfly.
“Elias, I believe you are correct. That little fellow reminds me of a story I was once told. A story that others have passed down over many years and, as time so masterfully can do, has gobbled up the author’s name. Would you like to hear a story?”
Elias faced Zoltan and looked into his eyes. He couldn’t help Zoltan’s allure as he looked into the recesses of his pupils. The eyes that have seen a thousand years. The eyes that have looked deep inside of him. Elias nodded and smiled.
“A time not so long ago, there was a pond like any other pond—perhaps like the ones around your home or mine. Do you know the kind
of pond I speak of?”
“Sure, Zoltan, go on.”
“Okay then… in the muddy water under the lily pads, there lived a little neighborhood of water bugs—cute little things. This tiny community lived a simple and predictable life in the murky water. Little concerned them, for the most part, so they were happy creatures. As it is with any community, sadness would come at peculiar times. On occasion, and without warning, a water bug would journey up the stem of a lily pad. To an onlooker in the water bug community, this was not a good sign.”
“So the water bug crawled up the stem of a water lily—how is that sad?” asked Elias.
“Well, Elias, all the water bugs knew was that when they saw one of their own make the climb, their friend or family member would never be seen again.” Zoltan paused and looked away.
“That’s not much of a story. So the water bug climbed up the stem, and a hungry bird ate it. Great story, Zoltan,” Elias said, shaking his head.
“Elias, my boy, that is not the end of the story—far from it. Would you allow me to proceed?”
Elias nodded. “Sorry.”
“Okay then. The water bugs knew they would never see their friend again. They, like you, thought the worst. They thought their friend was dead.
As it so happened one day, and with no warning to his family or friends, the littlest of water bugs felt an overpowering yearning to journey up that stem. However, he was determined to return to the community and tell his family and friends what he found on the other side. They pleaded with him not to go, but he did anyway. He began to climb the stem. When he reached the surface of the water, he journeyed out of the water onto a lily pad. Because of his climb, he was very tired, and the sun felt good. So the little water bug decided he must close his weary eyes and sleep.
During his nap, he changed. When he woke, he had turned into a beautiful aqua and sapphire dragonfly with graceful wings and a slender body created for flying. Therefore, that’s exactly what he did. He soared high above and looked at all below him. He skirted downward and skimmed the surface of the water. He saw new worlds in all its beauty. His perspective was new and fresh—one he thought never existed before that fateful day.
One day, while resting on the arm of a boy, he thought of his friends and family and how they must think he was now dead. It reminded him that he desperately wanted to tell them otherwise and share with them the joy he had found. He hovered over the surface of the water where his family and friends lived, and he could barely make out the little community below. The water was murky that day. He attempted to fly through the surface of the water, but when he tried to reemerge into the water, he could not. He tried and tried and tried to break the surface of the water to no avail. He could see the water bugs below as they continued their simple life. He wanted to explain how he was alive and how wonderful life really was. He wanted to talk about the fulfillment he felt.
Attempt after attempt, he thought differently about telling them and began to understand he was now in the place where he should be. He hoped that their time would come and they, too, would realize that they have wings and one day they would join him. With one last look, he knew what he had to do, and he took to flight, never to allow the past to hold him back. He knew he had to taste the wonders of what today brings.”
“So, I’m the dragonfly?” Elias smugly asked.
“You? Maybe the both of us—our friends, too, perchance. But the story, albeit simple, tells more. Think about it.”
“I see where it is about living and becoming, but it is also about death. Right?”
“Oh, Elias, it is for you to grapple with—let us speak of it no more.”
A huge smooth swell, the size of a modest house, mildly rolled under the lifeboat, placing them high above. As soon as they were at the pinnacle, they descended to a level where all they could see around them was a wall of water. As they evened out, the clouds vanished, and the placid wave slowly moved further away. Many smaller ones rapidly made their presence known as they slapped the boat in all directions. Elias and Zoltan held tight to the sides of the craft until all was calm.
“What was that all about?” Elias said.
“My boy, look over your shoulder, and you will see.”
Elias turned, and a good five or six sea miles before them was an iridescent glow the size of a small island of purples, blues, and red. It twinkled in the bright sunlight. Like the waves, the oddity seemed to be covering something as its hues swayed and fluttered to greens, yellows, and orange. It was a magnificent sight.
“Wow! I’ve never seen anything like it before,” said Elias.
“Nor I…nor I.”
“What do you think it is, Zoltan?”
“There’s nothing like a good mystery than one that is about to unfold in front of our very eyes. Let’s wait and see.”
As they got closer to the spectacle, they noticed that around the edges of the colors and lights seemed to unravel. Specs, as they thought, were drifting away, and as they did, the two saw rocks, trees, and a mountain.
“Zoltan, they’re dragonflies. Millions of dragonflies.”
“So they are. Very interesting,” Zoltan said, leaning toward Elias. “There is something I must tell you.”
I hope you enjoyed the excerpt. Let me know what you think below.
I am a fiction writer and the author of five books. My writing draws inspiration from the beauty surrounding us all—both in nature and in each other. Spirituality, friendship, love, and our connection to the universe inspire me to write. Here’s more about me and my books.
Writing a YA fantasy trilogy can be tricky. Writers and readers of fantasy think through many questions. Here are a few: does the reader have to start with the first book to make sense of the second and the third? Should I write the series so, if a reader chooses, they could start with the second, or even the third book before the first one? As a YA fantasy trilogy, should all the stories be clearly connected…a continuation…or just the hero’s next quest?
As a YA fantasy trilogy, each book is connected as the stories follow the one before. Saying that, I include just enough of the previous storyline so the reader can easily get into the story and begin to connect with the main character, Elias.
What’s this YA Fantasy Trilogy About?
Without giving away any spoilers, in The Amulet, Elias learns all about himself by way of a journey he must take to truly understand who he is.
In The Rings he realizes a friend is in danger but before he can find him, Elias must harness the powers he uncovered in the first story to not only save his friend, but he learns he must alos save a community that has been ravaged by false promises.
In Book III, The Elixir, Elias has been called to protect the elixir that if it lands in the wrong hands could bring destruction to the planet. What is the elixir?
As each book is truly a stand-alone story, Elias goes from self, to community to saving the world and….
…after all, it is fantasy…but aren’t we all trying to save the world in our own way?
This story best described by this quote by Joseph Campbell.
“We must be willing to let go of the life we have planned, so as to accept the life that is waiting for us.”
Here’s Chapter 1 of The Rings: Journey Beneath Sirok, Book II of the fantasy trilogy, The Elias Chronicles. Enjoy!
“…Elias is a character we can all connect with, as he has a good soul and always strives to do right… things like choosing kindness and good over evil…the storyline is a bit unpredictable, which is a welcome relief from a lot of fantasy writing out there right now…I would recommend this book to people who like fantasy stories with lots of fun characters and cool settings…”
ThisKidReviewsBooks.com
1
From the Crevasses
The moment had changed time and space forever. The serpent no longer slithered inside, but for now, Elias knew how it had lived and died.
Alone, he stood atop the mountain of Sirok. His crusade had been long, but it was now over. As he stood tall, he savored his sweet victory for only a moment as it was time to return to what was familiar. It was time to move on, but he knew his experience with the serpent was now a part of him forever.
With only the sounds of a breeze that kicked up the sand where he stood, he looked at the dark and infinite early morning sky. Ribbons of faint light picked up the colors of the Earth and began to fan out. It was like a magnificent painting. The shades of night tinted the light of the morning and then pulled apart so that the darkness faded softly out of sight.
He bowed his head and slipped the amulet back around his neck. He knew all too well what it meant when he felt it against his chest. Smiling, he had thought of the exact time he had realized its worth—when it had saved him.
Elias scanned the area and let out a sigh. He saw the dragon’s sword on the ground, partly covered by debris, and
then he grabbed its grip. He looked it over. Suddenly, the wind whipped up, and it forced him to look away. That’s when he saw his sword. Unlike the other blade, his sword stood upright and pierced the Earth. He gripped the hilt and pulled it from the ground. He held it high and looked at the long metal and thought about the force it commanded. These twin swords that once had unleashed an incredible power were nothing more than two cold steel blades. He sealed them away in the compartment at the base of the arch just as his grandmother had instructed him when he prepared for his journey.
With the toe of his boot, he poked at the dying embers of the campfire. He scooped up the sandy soil of Sirok, covered the coals, and stomped out the edges of the fire. Still feeling the surge of confidence that came with his victory, he felt grateful the fight was over. Elias knew it was time to go home.
As he sucked in a heavy breath, he began to descend the crooked path on the rough terrain to journey home. His faithful dog, Cimbora, was at his side just as he had been during his adventure. Elias no longer feared the Sarkany, the evil dragon, as his fears he would find now lay elsewhere. He hoped never to return to this mountain. Elias’ head was full of thoughts of his family. He had left them many weeks ago when he felt he had no choice. His Papa had made it clear to him that there was no place for artists on a farm. Elias’ grandmother, Nattymama, had prepared him to search for the sorcerer, Zoltan, to help him uncover a peace that he would find only in his heart.
No sooner had Elias turned and walked away; than the ground trembled. Elias stopped. He looked back, and he saw nothing, but still, he paused. Something was there. He just knew it. He looked around but saw nothing unusual. He turned and continued his descent on his path toward the village. Cimbora, however, stood frozen about fifteen steps behind Elias. He stared at the smoldering campfire. He jerked his head, and then he trotted to catch up with Elias. He stopped once or twice and turned to look behind him. Cimbora sniffed the air. Before long, they were far enough down the mountain and could no longer see the camp.
The crevasses in the ancient stones that surrounded the campfire tore open and made each gash deeper and longer. A cold wind whipped from them and swept over the dying embers. Too cold to be of this Earth, more wind streamed out from the rock fissures at the top of Sirok, where Elias had been just moments before. The wind spun itself, caught dirt and grit, and pulled in the cinders from the almost-dead fire.
The wind now lofted gently around the warm coals as the charm was now in play. Once again, the embers sparked into a flame. The flame hesitated briefly, but it flickered in reds and
blues as the wind all but diminished.
The flame became a fire, and the fire became an inferno.
I am a fiction writer and the author of five books. My writing draws inspiration from the beauty surrounding us all—both in nature and in each other. Spirituality, friendship, love, and our connection to the universe inspire me to write. Here’s more about me and my books.
“A hero ventures forth from the world of common day into a region of supernatural wonder: fabulous forces are there encountered, and a decisive victory is won.”
This quote by Joseph Campbell has meaning to all cultures over thousands of years…and that’s a long time.
It’s so true and easy to see. Think of the last book you read or even the last movie you saw. Didn’t the main characters find themselves in a situation that blindsided them or one that they just couldn’t refuse—no matter what? They may not have “ventured” from the common day into the supernatural world—or maybe they did—but they left a place that was safe or familiar to a place that was unpredictable, scary, or even so horrifying with no seemingly good way to escape…but they do.
They escape, make a difference, reshape the world, or better yet, they reshape themselves.
Life Imitating Art or …
These are the stories we as the reader or viewer resonate with the main character—the hero. We actually feel we have become the hero. We relate to the “good guy”, or his/her “treasure” is also our treasure. If we don’t feel that way, however, the story goes thud and it doesn’t sit on top of our list of best stories of all time that we’ve read or movies we’ve seen.
Good storytelling, and some not-so-good storytelling, has been around forever—forever. When you think for a moment, most stories are allegories, unless it is, of course, non-fiction. An allegory is a story in which the character or situation symbolizes something greater than the actions taking place. These symbols tell us something about our life or our community.
Fiction Interprets Life
I literally cringe when I am told something like, “I don’t read fiction, especially fantasy. I only read what’s real.” Oh really? What’s real? Our best stories and best storytellers of all time over the centuries were/are all about interpreting life, or what is real, in new and reimagined ways. Think about it. Even non-fiction accounts and biographies are embellished. Fiction gives us more than the black-and-white of facts, accounts, or events. It gives us the texture, color, brightness, and clarity we seek in life.
Whether our day is mundane or extraordinary, we are the hero of our own journey—yep, our story can be pretty cool too. It doesn’t matter if you are 16 or 66, we all have something to share.
Sometimes our story is all about our very private quest to live a life of our own making and to follow our own truth.
We Face Challenges
Sometimes, as Campbell insists, we must let go of the life we are building for ourselves to find the life we are meant to live. That’s our story—that’s you and me. Don’t we venture forth and find a world full of surprises? Life is full of challenges whether we like it or not. It’s all in how we approach that modern-day dragon that makes us truly a “hero” or not.
Nevertheless, we must champion what’s right for us and stand up to the villains and beasts in our own quest. Sometimes that’s a neighbor, a boss, a system, or a belief. When we do this, however, we begin to harness “fabulous forces”, and unfortunately, a “decisive victory” is won—or not. There’s always the next chapter.
Make Believe or Truth?
Fiction in all its pretense and make-believe actually tells us the truth, that is, if you’re open to it. Since the beginning of time, humans have told tales about what they know best—themselves and their struggles. Whether we read about it or live it, you are the “hero”, and every story told or written over the years is about you. It is how humans have overcome tyrants, natural disasters and the voice within that is not always so kind.
Fiction adds a perspective that with some distance, gives an extra light that’s just enough to give us the clarity we seek.
Stories passed down for thousands of years are all about who we are. We are the heroes of every journey in every story over generations. I’m just not sure if life imitates art or if it’s the other way around. I do know, however, that fiction is all about the truth.
In future posts, I will share my thoughts on the Hero’s Journey and its 12 stages to tell a story.
About E.G. Kardos
I am a fiction writer and the author of five books. My writing draws inspiration from the beauty surrounding us all—both in nature and in each other. Spirituality, friendship, love, and our connection to the universe inspire me to write. Here’s more about me and my books.
Stepping into worlds that I am the first to see before all others and being the first one to meet those living there is a joy unlike anything else I’ve experienced. This, to me, is inspired writing, and I want to share this joy with an invitation to readers.
Reading fiction opens a gate to other worlds, whether in the distant past, the here and now, or light years from now.
Fiction creates a path that unites us with a story’s characters; in best-written fiction, those characters resonate with us. Why?
Somewhere in our lives, we have felt the same deep emotion as the character, shared some quirky behavior, wondered the same thought, or had the same experience. Perhaps we identify with the character’s misgivings or flaws and feel a connection.
Reading fiction makes us think and feel differently.
This is why I read. Why do you? If you don’t read so much anymore, pick up something you’re interested in and start today.
Stepping into Worlds of Writing
As a writer, I dig into a part of me that many folks seem to have misplaced over the years—my imagination. As we get older, it seems to me that our creativity wanes. I’m not talking about “old age”, I am talking about when we grow up and become overly serious. Maybe you are like me and cherish your imagination and lean on it throughout your day, and I think this is a very good thing.
When I write, I pull from inside of me a new land or a place never thought of by anyone else. Maybe it’s a place that seems real or one found in an enchanted forest but the bottom line—it’s new and different as we see this place through our own filters. Our mind makes sure it is.
This, to me, is inspired writing, and I want to share this joy with an invitation to readers.
You’ve Got to Have a Reason
What’s my reason for writing? Simply, I am drawn to illuminate the human condition. Without judgment, light pierces the darkness and is freeing. It allows us to explore what it is to be human. I weave these themes into my works of literary fiction and fantasy.
This is why I write. Why do you? If you don’t write, start today with a journal, a note, or a sentence that captures a moment in your day. It can be a text to yourself! Write anything that means something to you.
Words Spark a Whole new World Inside
If you are here reading this post, you probably appreciate the written word at some level. I’m fascinated with books as they transport us, give us an escape from the out-of-control world, or give us a moment to ourselves to stir up our imagination. Maybe you’re here to gain a different perspective, or to learn something new to spark something inside you—hope so.
So Where Does this Idea of “Living Your Truth” Fit In?
To me, it’s like your fingerprint–your truth. The only person we are with 24/7 from the day we are born until the day we die is, obviously, ourselves. Who we are—who we really are—is our truth. Deep down there is no escaping our truth as it is unique, beautiful, and soulful. It is why you are you and as unique as your fingerprint. If you strive to be true to your core and are trying your best to live authentically, reading and writing is a kind of fuel that moves your personal journey forward.
If you read or write from this point of view, you become the story.
The books we enjoy are written by authors who live their truth. Each word is selected with care. It’s easy to see this in each sentence and paragraph they choose. They capture the soul of a character and share them with us. I count myself among the lucky. They allow us to see, hear, taste, feel, and smell the story.
It’s easy to get sidetracked, but that comes with being the “flawed character” in my own story.
If you appreciate fiction, you will agree with me that the “best” characters are flawed. I happen to be the “best” character to lead my own personal quest.
Cutting of Harp Strings is a literary novel and is all about living your truth. My fantasy series, The Elias Chronicles asks the questions we all think about- who am I? What should I do with my powers? What’s ahead for me? Whether it is literary fiction or fantasy, my books are about what it is to be human with all the emotions that make us who we are.
Stepping into Worlds – More Worlds!
This blog may include reviews and mentions of books that inspire. As an author, I will share more about what I have learned and still learning. I will share thoughts, observations, reflections, musings, and stories that help me on my own journey to live my truth. This informs what I read and write. You may find it helpful or entertaining as well. If you value the idea of living your truth as well as reading or writing, I hope you find a flash of inspiration in my reflections.
I am a fiction writer and the author of five books. My writing draws inspiration from the beauty surrounding us all—both in nature and in each other. Spirituality, friendship, love, and our connection to the universe inspire me to write. Here’s more about me and my books.
Be true to yourself. It is only when we follow our hearts that we may truly know who we are and how we should live our lives. As Socrates said, “know thyself”. It’s not so much about having a dream as we all have them. But those dreams may be misguided.
But by listening to our hearts, it can make all the difference.
The Amulet: Journey to Sirok is Book I of the trilogy, The Elias Chronicles. I wrote this with young AND older readers in mind. Rich in symbolism and life themes that resonate with all ages, I wanted to share a story about the heart. When I received the following testimonial, I was deeply touched as this is what I set out to do.
In the spirit of C.S. Lewis, the fantasy is never about the fantastical; it’s about deeply human and moral concerns: identity, voice, virtue, family, and conflict. A joyous, satisfying, life-affirming read!”
Dr. William R. Muth, Editorial Advisory Board: Journal of Adolescent and Adult Literacy
Below, I am sharing the first seven pages of The Amulet: Journey to Sirok. I hope you enjoy it and join Elias on the rest of his journey. You will find it is YOUR journey too!
PROLOGUE
Legend of Sirok
When the serpent is slithering inside, you will know it, but only with the gift you will understand how it lives and how it dies.” That’s where she always began.
Like many women before her, Nattymama passed the legend down to all who would listen. There were those, of course, who would hear but would not heed her words. Good fortune, however, came to most who listened.
On the spring equinox at the precise time that winter turned to spring, Nattymama dusted off a tattered, yellowed scroll and read aloud to the children in the center of the village. Her account began where the castle now lay in ruins just to the north of the village on a small rocky mountain.
She told her tale as if it happened only yesterday—or for that matter, she told it as if it might just happen again.
Her story was known to many as The Legend of Sirok.
As a young boy, Elias sat front and center and listened to Nattymama, his grandmother, who brought to life the events that she traced back a thousand years. He hung on to her every word and getting through the scary passages took all the courage he could muster. Keeping one eye closed during some scenes, he patiently waited for his favorite parts. He couldn’t get enough of the battle that played out in his head or the amazing way the story ended. For many years to come, he would hear her voice in his head telling the story just as if he was listening to her for the first time. Oftentimes he thought of what the legend truly meant. He had all but committed the ending to memory.
“…centuries ago, a lightning bolt hurtled upward from the center of the Castle of Sirok. The beam split the clear sky. It was then that the thunder rumbled like a stampede of a thousand water buffalos as bloated clouds, the color of dried ox blood, gobbled up the open sky. All was dark—
motionless. One moment passed and then another, but on the third tick of a clock, sheets of rain began to pelt the kingdom. This storm was like no other as something mystical must have been in each and every drop.
“Hours passed and the rain subsided. Within moments it was certain that the downpour had washed away what contaminated the gilded kingdom. Not long after the rainstorm, curls of black smoke billowed from somewhere near the core of Sirok where huge flames casted an eerie glow on the naked kingdom.
“Still masked by smoke, the sun eventually shone through misshapen holes in the black blanket of clouds above. With little warning, what was left of the suffocating smoke all but vanished allowing more threads of light to reveal the stone structures high on the mountaintop. Without so much as a smoldering ember, Sirok was reborn. Unlike its old, garish facade, it now stood in simplicity and beauty.
“A bird sang followed by another. The water was clean, and the air was fresh. The buildings were bright, and the roads led freely in and out. The people saw each other in a new way. The people smiled.
“Filled with joy, the warrior mounted a horse and rode down the rocky path that few dared to travel. At the foot of the mountain, a hundred or so villagers looked on with blank stares. They said little as they witnessed such chaos that only minutes earlier turned the kingdom into something new—something altogether different from what had stood before.
“Galloping down the rocky path, the villagers focused on the mysterious young man. The only sounds one could hear were the pounding of the hooves drubbing on the rocky soil. Thump, thump, thump! The warrior, who they discovered was a mere boy, raced up to where the villagers gathered. He yanked on the reins much to the displeasure of his faithful steed and spoke to the crowd.
‘“What the evil one seized, the people of the kingdom have reclaimed. With this newfound will, we are now free and have washed our hands of our needless guilt. We have nothing to fear as we now know who we are.’”
Nattymama continued, “The villagers standing before the warrior were a field of statues who said nothing, much to the young warrior’s surprise. He spoke again.
“‘Don’t you see? Our misguided ways in Sirok had become a way of life. We believed in the wrong things. We lived behind a veil, but it is a new day for us—and you— as we are the victors.’
“‘So where is he? The evil one?’ a man shouted from the crowd.
“‘He is victim of his own undoing and sealed his fate in the eternal fire of his own making,’ said the warrior. ‘Our resolve is golden. We are the victors,’ said the boy warrior.
“‘An old woman shouted. ‘But what on earth will become of those poor souls who lived in the Kingdom of Sirok?’
‘“Oh, dear woman, you do not understand me. They are free. Free! Their very spirit will make them whole. Sirok will never be the same again; all those who come to know Sirok, to really know it, will be forever changed. Sirok is at our very core.’
“The warrior looked down to his finger that bore a ring that sparkled in the morning light. He thought of the boy who gave up one treasure for another and he lifted his chin with confidence and raised his open palm to the crowd.
“He gazed out to the souls who stood in silence and abruptly tugged on the reins. The stallion reared back on its hind legs and then galloped at top speed up the rocky mountain.”
Chapter 1
Elias
Like a breeze sifts through the morning mist, his brush strokes barely touched the canvas. The bristles of his well-worn brush were thin as many had been lost on previous paintings. This made no difference as his paintbrush was an extension of his fingers. With his right hand, he dabbed a speck of magenta and with his left, reddish-brown.
With a wisp of a stroke his imagination erupted as he envisioned a coiled snake on the other side of a fallen tree. Not far away from the rotting trunk, he created another tale of gypsies who plodded down the narrow trails below the hill. He was bringing meaning to a deep forest as it was taking shape on the scuffed-up canvas. His images were fresh as he blended what he saw in front of him with what he could see in his mind’s eye. It all lived in that moment and began a life of its own on the flat surface.
Elias tilted his head from side to side and inhaled the pure mountain air as he measured his progress. Looking away at the rolling Mátra Mountain range, he could smell and taste a mix of deciduous beech and birch trees that sat on a draft coming from the east. One day I’ll catch this scent in a painting…yeah, I need to figure that out, he thought.
When he had arrived a few hours earlier, the sky was a deep blue with only the faintest veil of clouds on the horizon that played with the smooth and rolling mountain crests. The heavens were now a smear of amber as the spectrum of colors gradually cloaked the sky. This moment was altogether different as he noticed the new colors sharpen above.
Perched high upon a cliff, he was alone as he swapped a blank canvas for what was becoming a kaleidoscope of the Hungarian landscape. This was his haven. He entwined himself with the beauty and love of nature. This was nothing new. From a young age, Elias knew what stirred his heart.
He made his own canvases by stretching remnants of an abandoned gypsy tent over a frame he made from a discarded wooden crate. Nattymama, who was an herbalist, mixed and blended his paints using her own recipe. His brushes were horsehair affixed to slender but sturdy sprigs from a nearby cypress tree. Elias used old forgotten wooden dowels and hinges he found and made them into a sturdy easel. This was all he needed.
Elias’ long brown hair grazed his shoulders. His light brown eyes were striking and ominous to some but opened a gateway to a peace from deep within him. Lean and average height, he could be pensive and appear brooding at times. Although he was private and a little shy, Elias seldom kept his thoughts to himself if others pushed, teased, or tested him in any manner. Like his paintings, he was an original. He was an old soul who was true to his feelings. He, became frustrated from time to time because others didn’t take their time to even try to understand him.
Pausing for a moment, he surveyed the vast and beautiful terrain, and he wondered what he could find if he went deep inside the forest well beyond the trees and rocks that were in plain view. He loved what he painted and allowed his imagination to fill in the blanks, but he wanted to know and experience more.
The forest looked dark, dense, and cold, but that was just an assumption or a guess—he wanted to know for sure. He had never traveled the paths within. Papa cautioned him about the dangers, telling him he could enter at his own risk, but it would be far better to leave the forest alone as there was much to do right around home.
At ease with his own thoughts and feelings, Elias was happy and fulfilled, but he had a darker side too. An inner voice gnawed at him, reminding him that he was different from the others in his family and those in and around the village. What he felt, he shared with only a few, so he expressed himself in his artwork. As he pieced together in his mind who he thought he was and wanted to be, it was clear what caused the special beat in his heart and what created personal joy deep within him.
♦ ♦ ♦
Elias’s home and family farm were close to where he liked to paint. They lived about three kilometers from a small village. With four large rooms and a loft, Papa built their house of white stucco and a thatched roof. Various supporting buildings, including a small barn and a few sheds, completed their home.
Inside their house, the walls were pure white. Large exposed and rough beams separated the living area from the loft, where the children slept. The furnishings were colorful, like his palette, as were the meticulously crafted quilts and wall hangings Mama and other women in the family had embroidered. They delicately stitched them with intricate detail over many generations. One of Elias’ paintings hung over the hearth at Mama’s insistence. It was a warm yet functional home.
They grew wheat. Livestock on the farm included a cow, a few oxen, some sheep, chickens, and a rooster. Mama and Papa were raising three boys and two girls, and Elias was the second oldest boy at fifteen.
Wiping her pale face with floury fingers, Mama stood on tiptoes to reach a bowl from a cupboard. Grabbing the bowl with one hand and tucking it…
I am a fiction writer and the author of five books. My writing draws inspiration from the beauty surrounding us all—both in nature and in each other. Spirituality, friendship, love, and our connection to the universe inspire me to write. Here’s more about me and my books.
We’ve all met new people and wondered what might happen next. Will we become friends, or will we remain acquaintances? We may not think about it at the moment, but we have all meet people who will mean nothing to us, or worse, they may become our enemy; that’s life. Like in “real life” self-discovery books explore much more than the character’s relationship with “self” but their relationship with others and society.
I love the chapter I’m sharing below. It’s when Eli meets Aiden. Even when I re-read it, I pick up something new.
Like the characters we meet and journey with them, many times we just don’t have any idea where a relationship is going until it organically unfolds. There have been times that I wished I could check my proverbial crystal ball. Sometimes I have thought “why now” or “why this person”?
We carry baggage to every introduction of every new person we meet and so do they. In good fiction, so do the characters we come to love.
Fate?
Is it fate? I mean who we meet and who we don’t? If we showed up early, late, or not at all what may have we missed out on without even knowing it?
If you’re like me you’ve asked more than once, “what if?”. Do people enter our lives for a reason? Is all this fate?
If you enjoy books that explore the complexities of relationships and the journey of self-discovery, Cutting of Harp Strings should be your next read. Well, at least I hope you to read the excerpt I included below.
First, a little about the story…
Eli’s life is in limbo. He’s searching for a sense of peace but can’t seem to find it. That all changes when he returns many years later to the place where he first met Aiden.
Back those many years ago, Eli and Aiden were polar opposites, but despite their differences, a rare friendship blossoms. A friendship that neither had ever experienced before—or since. Caught off guard, their relationship deepens but like a gut punch, a promise that Aiden made to himself changes everything. Eli is left to pick up the pieces.
In Cutting of Harp Strings Eli artfully weaves together a narrative of friendship, living in the moment, and love.
Self-Discovery Books
It’s a story of self-discovery and will take you on an emotional rollercoaster of joy, heartbreak, and ultimately, utter bliss that, I think, is sure to stay with you long after turning the last page.
Why?
Readers have told me that the story is full of engaging characters and has an evocative and visual plot. They have shared with me that Cutting of Harp Strings is an unforgettable coming-of-age self discovery book that leaves them reflecting on the beauty of true friendship and the power of love.
I’m happy with that…so please read….and let me know what you think.
TWO
August 1973
I knocked on the door, but no one answered. I was sure that Father Meinrad told me this room number. Double-checking, I pulled out of my pocket a small crumpled-up piece of paper where I had written the room number.
“Yep,” I said, aloud.
Turning the knob, I didn’t know what to expect or whom I would find. With hesitation, I wrapped my head around the unwieldy oak door to take a look. No one was there. Creeping in, I dropped my duffel bag and knapsack on the bare tile floor and took a deep breath. Thinking I was intruding, I just then considered going down to the TV room to wait a while but, with a rare moment of certainty, I thought otherwise. After all, this was my room too.
In both oversized windows were two enormous box fans buzzing and gusting winds in different directions. I turned them down one notch and began looking around but disturbing nothing. I began to size up this guy, after all, I would be living with him in this space for the next two school terms. Tacked up on the wall behind his dresser were pictures from magazines of sports stars. I saw Jerry West and Wilt Chamberlain among the collage. Tucked partly behind his mirror was a recent news clipping of Mark Spitz highlighting his seventh Olympic gold medal. Fluttering to one side was an obscure obituary of someone named Sir Francis Chichester who at sixty-five, I found by scanning the clipping, sailed around the world alone in his ketch called Gipsy Moth IV.
“Hmmm. How odd,” I mumbled to myself.
I didn’t want to disturb anything, but I wanted to know everything. On his stereo was a new album. “Aerosmith—Dream On…he can’t be too bad—maybe.”
Mountains of books were everywhere except the bookcase in this twelve-by-something room. Zen, art history, and architectural design,
you name it, he had books for all his interests. Unusual bookmarks poked out from the pages. Spoons, Popsicle sticks, and a sock accounted for a few. A tee-shirt, gym shorts, and an assortment of tennis shoes were scattered and strewn about. His knotted school necktie hung from a lamp, and his blue blazer and khaki pants draped from an ancient gray radiator under the windows—I could only wonder what he kept in his closet.
At first glance, the cell, as the monks called them, was a whirlwind of chaotic prep school life, but I sensed there was a kind of order to things. It was an order that, perhaps, only the caretaker might know the code. I wasn’t going to lose sleep over it. Maybe I would care some other day.
On a stack of books on his desk, was his journal. Peeking behind me at the door and then back at the notebook, I laid my hand on its cover. Flipping it open, a sinking feeling came over me and closed it with a slap. Peering back at the door, I shook my head letting out a puff of air. Beginning to act a bit like a voyeur made me feel strange and didn’t like the feeling. Even so, I was intrigued with him and speculated if we would get along. If what he collects, and what he reads, and how he keeps his space was any indication, it would seem this year would be dreadfully long.
Among the mayhem, much to my surprise, he had both beds impeccably made, so I had no clues as to which bunk was his. Feeling like a stranger heightened my anxiety. Wasn’t so sure I wanted to deal with a new way of living, considering I would be spending this year working my ass off to get into Georgetown next fall. Maybe weird, but not knowing where I would lay my head tonight was bothersome. Sleeping was important. With confidence, I chose one and sat down. I slowly leaned back on my elbows just thinking about this hiccup in my life.
BAM!
Without warning, the door flew open nearly blowing off the hinges. I sprang forward. My uneasiness escalated and my heart raced faster than Spitz’s Olympic record times. Like the hinges on the door, I sensed things were not going to be secure the way I was used to, like it or not. I didn’t know why, but my gut told me that I had better take my steps cautiously.
He was dripping with sweat and wearing cutoff jeans and black Chuck Taylor sneakers. Without uttering a word, but with a glance, he shot past me to one of the fans to cool himself. As they were before, he cranked up both fans to their highest setting. With his side and back toward me and with his hands on his hips, I had to notice his chiseled definition. Through the skewed windowpane and the flickering fan blades, strange patterns made by the sun played on his torso. He didn’t seem real. He was about my height of six feet, and that was where the similarities ended. His brown hair was thick with a luster and accents of the summer sun. Seemingly molded with a sculptor’s plan, he had a natural outline of long lashes that framed his blue eyes. I later learned the girls at our sister school loved his eyes and thought he was so adorable. His jaw and cheekbones rolled together in absolute harmony. If there was ever a classic nose, it was his. He, of course, had an even tan. As we all have flaws, his were not visible—that’s enough to piss off anyone.
Rolling his head in fluid rotation, his actions shifted from his self-focus to that of me. As he guided his neck from side to side, he said something that I could not make out.
“What did you say? The fans are too loud, I – didn’t – hear – you,” I said drawing out each word and cupping my ear with my hand.
In a single motion, he switched off one fan and turned toward me. Poking fun, he said, “My – name – is – Aiden. You’re late. The semester started ten days ago. I thought the place was all mine until Father Meinrad stopped me five minutes ago. What a bombshell.” He shook his head.
His choice of words aggravated me, and I responded the way I felt. “Oh, yeah, I’m Eli, and sorry if I’m spoiling your little plans, but are you always an ass?”
“Geez, hold on. Get a grip. I didn’t mean anything by it. I figured it was just too good to be true—that’s all. If you want to know the truth, I was hoping they’d move someone in here.” He totally switched gears and looked at me with a smile. “I’m sorry. Really, I am. Let’s start over—hey roomie. I’m Aiden.”
I couldn’t change my mood that fast and muttered with disinterest something like. “Yeah, yeah—hi I’m Eli, whatever.”
“Okay, that’s a lot better wouldn’t you say?” Aiden asked.
“Yeah, I’m all for fresh starts anyway. I’m here, aren’t I? So, if I may ask, what happened to your last roommate?” I asked with raised eyebrows.
“Absolutely, you may ask. Go ahead and ask,” he said crossing his arms.
“All right already,” I let out a sigh.
“Okay, okay, just trying to add some levity.”
“Uh-huh,” I said rolling my eyes.
“So, anyway, my last roommate was this guy named Brody. He’s still around. He flunked a few classes, and the monks didn’t like that. He went ballistic, but that didn’t have anything to do with his grades because he hates me anyway. He’s got issues and he made me the reason.”
“Oh really—issues?”
“Yeah—issues. I’m over all that and don’t care one way or another,” he said with a flicker of a smile. “Hey, I hope you get good grades—and don’t have issues. I don’t want you, the monks, or your mom or dad coming after me.”
Aiden began to tidy the room and nonchalantly said, “Looks like I did take over the place, but I just didn’t figure on a new kid coming in…anyway, what’s mine is yours. Yep, I know how hard it is to be thrown into strange situations.”
“Don’t worry about it. So, tell me more about Brody.”
“Huh? Nothing more to tell.” He stiffened up and looked away, so I knew he wasn’t going to budge. He changed the subject. “So, Eli, what’s your story? I mean, why are you just getting here now?”
“My mom, well, my mom passed away a few years back…”
“Oh man—didn’t have any idea. Sorry for the crack about irate moms and dads.”
“Don’t worry about it. Anyway, Dad had this thought that to better prepare me for college, I needed to spend my senior year away from home. Literally a week ago we, I mean he, settled on St. Augustine’s. In the last year, he’s hardly been at home, so I think that’s the real reason.
“Cool. It’s all good. You’re here now.”
“Dad says I should be away from distractions. He presumes coming here would help me, you know, with the Fathers watching out for me. He says it would give me an edge getting into college. Yep, he thinks this is my ticket to Georgetown.”
“Well, it sounds like he’s got it all figured out,” Aiden said.
“Yeah, well, you don’t know my whole situation.”
“Oh?”
“They appointed him ambassador to Belgium, and he is going to spend a lot of time out of the country. When he is here, he’s going to be pretty busy—even busier than before. He decided that it would be best if I went to a school like this one. I always wanted to be a lawyer—like him. So, if this place helps me to get into Georgetown, then this is a good place for me to be.”
“Yeah, a boarding school,” Aiden interrupted. “But old Father Meinrad may have put you in the wrong room. I mean, I’m a distraction and I know it. I look for distractions. Like, distraction is my middle name. To me, that’s a good thing. Anyway—you’re here now.”
There was a long and awkward silence. I ran my fingers through my hair and felt myself tense up starting with my toes shooting upward.
“Well, I’m not planning to be around much on the weekends. We’re
only a couple of hours from D.C. so I plan to go home on the weekends when Dad’s there.”
“Hmmm. I think you’ll be here most weekends…anyway,” Aiden said. “There are some cool things to do around here. Lots to explore…and the Shenandoah River is pretty excellent this time of year. That’s where I just came from.”
“No—no. Thanks, but I’m not here for that. I’m here to get my diploma and move on.”
“Yeah, yeah yeah—I hear ya. You’re not some kind of a dork, are you? If we’re going to live together, we may as well try to hang out and have a good time. There will be plenty of time for studying. Didn’t mean to scare you with all that distraction talk.”
I was getting aggravated, and a sigh seeped out. “Hey Aiden, I just don’t need all this right now. Okay?”
“Yeah, man. I hear you. I gave you your first distraction,” Aiden said sarcastically. “You should know, Eli, the Robes might not say it, but they want us to have some distractions. Saturdays are made for distractions. That’s the way they want it. That’s the way we want it too. We don’t see them, and they don’t see us. Today is Saturday and I’m making the most out of it.”
Aiden was more interested in thinking of other things and offered his own perspective. “You may never want to go home on the weekends—or ever.”
“Oh really?”
“Let me tell you…Saturdays…it’s our day. Everyone needs a day off. Even the Robes.”
“You keep saying Robes, what’s a Robe?”
“They’re a who not a what. They’re the good Fathers, you know, the monks—the guys wearing black robes who run this place.”
“Yeah, yeah, I got it. But you don’t call them that to their face, do you? I mean you say, Father, right?”
“Eli, yes call them Father—for a smart dude, you may be a bit slow on the uptake. The kids here have called them Robes forever, you know, behind their backs. Sometimes they overhear us, and they really
hate it. So, watch out when you use the word because some of them have a fierce backhand slap.”
“Oh, okay. Thanks for the tip,” I said facing my palms out his way and shaking my head.
“Anyway, what I was trying to say was that the coaches, who are not Robes, rotate to keep track of us on the weekends. It’s like one coach per class and we have seventy or so in each class so it’s loose, very loose. I spend time running in the woods. It’s much better than on the track or on campus somewhere. It’s just better.”
I didn’t think he would ever shut up. When he did, I wasn’t sure what to do, but at least now, I knew the slang for priests. Yep, I didn’t think this arrangement was going to work out.
“Well, that sounds great and all, but I think I’ll pass. I’ve never been much for hiking or exploring, so count me out.”
“Once I get you off-campus, you’ll see.”
“No, I don’t think so. Don’t think it’s going to happen. Being close to the dorm is fine by me, and anyway I think I’ll be spending time in the library getting ready for college.”
“Sounds like your dad, I mean you have a plan, but I don’t know… the Robes won’t just let you study all the time. I’m telling you.”
Aiden seemed to have an answer for everything, so I thought I should change the subject. “Well, I’m going to try out for the basketball team.”
“Cool. All right. We do have something in common. Yeah, b-ball—cool.”
Somehow, we managed a moment of quiet. Thank God. Aiden leaped backward onto a bed. He landed squarely in the middle of the mattress while clasping his hands behind his head. Finally, I got my answer and now knew which bed was mine. So, I began to collect my
duffel and knapsack, threw them on my bed, and unzipped all the compartments. Out of the corner of my right eye, I could tell he was interested in what I was doing. Using my body to shield my belongings, not that I had anything to hide, I unpacked. Just wasn’t ready to offer the same courtesy Aiden had extended to me earlier.
Seeing all I needed to see, I decided that this arrangement was awful and was ready to talk to Father Meinrad. He told me earlier in the day that if I didn’t think my roommate would work out, switching rooms was not a problem. He said that several students were without a roommate. A guy named Luis, I remembered him telling me, who lived right down the hall didn’t have one. Yep, Father and I needed to talk.
After a few minutes of uneasy silence, Aiden lost interest in what I was doing and blurted out, “Okay, didn’t mean any harm. Sorry to intrude.”
He bolted up from his bed, yanked off his worn sneakers, and peeled off his shorts. He grabbed a towel hanging from a closet doorknob, sniffed it, and he left the same way he entered. He headed down the long hall to the bathroom for a shower. Just in time, as I was ready to punch someone.
I am a fiction writer and the author of five books. My writing draws inspiration from the beauty surrounding us all—both in nature and in each other. Spirituality, friendship, love, and our connection to the universe inspire me to write. Here’s more about me and my books.
Without seeking it, profound spiritual growth can arise in the most unexpected places—from a child’s reaction, a stranger who enters our lives, or even our neighbor; thus, the Zen master next door.
Zen stories and philosophies transcend all spiritual belief systems. Our belief systems are quite similar; however, some individuals don’t always recognize this. I’m not sure why. However, because of these similarities, connections, and integration of philosophies we share, I decided to write about them. I wrote short stories called parables for enlightened everyday living. Each story focusing on seventeen significant philosophies that capture Zen in our everyday lives and are present in most belief systems. You may see yourself or someone you know in these parables. I hope so.
During the publishing process, Daniel Pink, author of A Whole New World and many other books, said:
“What an inspiring way to learn about our very soul, The modern parables in Zen Master Next Door are captivating and left me wanting more.”
I can’t review my own book so I will leave that up to others, but I certainly enjoyed writing it. Here’s one Zen story from Zen Master Next Door (3rd and latest edition).
Enjoy!
EDDIE ZEN
The energy of the mind is the essence of life.
Aristotle
Listen to the voice of nature, for it holds treasures for you.
Huron—Native American
When knowledge becomes tattered, wisdom springs.
Eddie Zen
Start with the truth. At least that is what he told Judd, his neighbor of nearly a decade.
“Answers to questions most important to humanity always lie within us. Come on, certainly you’ve heard that before,” Eddie said with a frothy tone. He started conversations this way, bypassing any normal greeting.
On a warm breeze that filtered through the trees in Eddie’s front yard, arrived the rich fragrance of juniper from Judd’s garden next door. Eddie’s yard, now speckled with boxes, chairs, tables and bookcases, was once a pristine postage stamp-sized lot but now resembled a yard sale without the swarms of bargain hunters.
Judd dropped by on a lark, not knowing that his elderly neighbor was moving that very day. But that was common practice for both men. Judd was unaware of much around him, while Eddie was unpredictable at best.
Replying to the older man, Judd nodded his head. “What’s going on here? Where are you going?”
“I’m moving on…just moving on. But don’t worry about that, because I’m trying to give you something to think about. Think about it, the answers you search for come from wisdom that’s passed down through the ages. I repeat, in case you aren’t catching on, it’s about wisdom—w-i-s-d-o-m.”
Giving in as he usually did, Judd said, “All right already— so where does it come from? This wisdom.”
“Good question,” Eddie said, drawing in a slow breath while scratching his day old stubble. “It started with our first ancestors and flowed
on year after year, decade after decade and century after…well you get my point,” he said squinting as he looked to the gray, hazy sky, thick with summer’s humidity. “Anyway, although this wisdom has been fermented like a good chardonnay many times over for many years, it is now tucked away. Seldom does modern man give it much weight.”
Eddie sat down on a dusty, wooded trunk and yanked off his horn-rimmed glasses. He held them up, and he peered through the lenses, and put them back on. Taking a long, deliberate breath, he continued. “Today we rely more on science at one end of the spectrum or blind faith at the other. Wisdom is overlooked and seldom part of our decision-making. Don’t you think?” Judd obliged nodding his head.
As the movers in the house packed Eddie’s belongings, it dawned on Judd that he was always drawn to Eddie’s musings and now seeing him leave the neighborhood, an instant sense of emptiness plopped in his abdomen. With downcast eyes, Judd told him that he wished he had taken the time to get to know him—really know him.
Eddie was a rather imposing but gentle man. Standing a hair over six feet tall, he was slender and looked like a man ten years his junior. He always donned frayed oxford shirts that draped on his torso like bed linens on a grandmother’s clothesline. His silver hair was thick for a man of any age, impeccably combed and parted to the side with the straightest of parts.
With an easy smile and radiant disposition, Eddie unwittingly drew Judd to him and always did. Despite his incessant ramblings, Judd knew Eddie was a singular sort. A ready smile punctuated Eddie’s discourse.
“Ah, you know me well enough. Don’t worry about that. Get to know yourself! Get to know others and learn from them. Get to know the guy next door. This is what I’m talking about,” he told Judd, springing from his seat and walking to a lopsided pyramid of boxes.
He began fumbling through a crumbling, corrugated container. For a moment, Eddie said nothing. He looked perplexed as he shuffled papers in the container. Losing his concentration from moment to moment, he paused as he examined an ancient fountain pen and a softball-sized sphere of rubber bands.
“Are you looking for something?” Judd asked.
“Yes. Why, what does it look like I’m doing?” he said with a sigh. “It’s in here somewhere. I want to give you something I started and I insist you finish it. What I’m looking for will show you what I mean.”
Eddie continued to rummage through boxes. As he did, dust emanated from each box flap, filling the immediate area with a ripe tang.
Eddie stopped for a moment, looking up without his signature gleam and paused. “You’ve always been kind to me and listened as I’ve spouted off at the first moment you’ve gotten home from work. You have been kind enough to speak with me while you’re out in the yard. Even at last year’s Fourth of July block party, I pulled you away from the beer cooler to throw you a thought, and you were there with a catcher’s mitt to snare it. Whatever I threw out there, you were willing to give it the kind of attention I was looking for.” He smiled and nodded as if proud of a son.
Judd, always neatly dressed and clean-shaven, was in his late thirties, had a muscular physique and short-cropped blonde curls with steely blue eyes. His usual look was a golf shirt, khaki shorts and flip-flops.
Married to Ashley for nine years, they had two children. Rarely taking time to think beneath the facade of many issues, Judd spent time taking care of his young family with little time for introspection. He wasn’t so different from most folks. Eddie knew this.
Judd could not imagine what he was hunting for, and as Eddie rifled through dusty boxes, he suddenly felt empty-handed, wanting to reciprocate. He thought of nothing of worth that he could conjure up to give the old man. This worried him. Judd told him that.
Preoccupied while looking through his belongings, Eddie gently gestured to him, waving his hands in the air while saying, “You’ve given me plenty. But, I guess you don’t realize that, now do you?”
Before Judd could utter a syllable and from calm to excitement and without warning, Eddie blurted, “Ah, yes. Eureka! Here it is!”
Before rescuing the gift from the box, Eddie peered down at the prize. There was a glow about his eyes. He took a breath and pulled it up and out. As if it was a gold brick, he handed Judd a ream of yellowed paper, tattered and dog-eared at many of the edges. Tinged with a scent of mildew, what Eddie held, Judd knew, must be significant. As Eddie flipped through and peered at many of the pages, Judd saw that what he was handing him was a collection of handwritten stories.
Taken by the gesture, Judd asked, “Why are you giving these to me? I mean, this looks like a lifetime of work. You ought to keep it.” At best, he was bewildered.
Eddie put his hands in his pockets and, leaning forward on his toes, explained, “I don’t need them where I’m going. Besides, my hands can no longer tolerate holding a pen for very long. Perhaps you can read them and put them to good use in some way. Maybe it will get you off your duff and get you to write something too. You know it is in you. It’s a gift…by the way, they’re parables.”
Overheated from his search, Eddie sat in a recliner under a maple tree in his front yard, waiting to be loaded onto the moving van. He looked up intently at the massive tree boughs, as his thoughts accompanied the expression of resolve on his face. He motioned to Judd to pull up a kitchen chair from the mountain of boxes on the other side of the slate walkway, and to join him.
In the fashion of Socrates dispensing philosophies under an olive tree, Eddie began to expound. “When we read stories, you know, it is natural for us to pull personal meaning from them. This in itself is a good thing. Don’t you think? Writers like it when this happens. As I like to think, it may lead to introspection—I like that word. But at the very least stories help us think. Are you with me?”
Judd was a trifle confused. “So what is it all about? I mean, you always tell me that the answers are inside of each of us. I bet that’s all here. The answers you have found in you?”
With his long, thin finger pointing to his own chest, Eddie answered. “Precisely. I did say that, but it doesn’t mean I know all the answers. In complexity, there is simplicity. In simplicity, there is complexity. Answers are not always the result of equations or any logical order—if so, we would unfetter all the mysteries, be superhumans, and not, well, just humans. There is nothing perfect about any one of us. I however, think that stories, not just mine, are like beautiful sunflowers. They hold beliefs and values that somehow creep and root themselves into most civilizations. Like a tall sunflower staring us in the face we sometimes still ask—so where’s this flower?”
The workers were moving his life’s possessions with such disturbing ease. “This move shouldn’t be this easy and this fast,”Judd thought.Eddie saluted the movers as they filed by him. Except for Eddie’s recliner, all of his belongings that once covered his yard were securely in the truck.
In spite of the commotion around him, Judd began to think of all the times he and Eddie had talked and he was only now beginning to connect the dots like the excuses Eddie made by walking over to Judd’s house, ringing the doorbell to borrow a dictionary. “Eddie needs a dictionary? How come I didn’t think that was odd,” Judd scolded himself. He thought of the times that Eddie would show up with a beer in hand when Judd cooked burgers on the grill, or wanted to borrow a snow shovel in May. These were times that Eddie had something to say. Sometimes Judd listened and other times he was preoccupied. “I wish I had listened all those times,” Judd thought.
Eddie continued, “We’re all the same. The mores and ways of life are probed and pondered today just as they were by those who resided at Stonehenge or by the ancient Greeks, or the Bushmen of Africa or the contemporaries of Confucius, or the greeter at Wal-Mart or the neighbor over the fence, or me or you. Did I leave out anyone? These truths are worthy of another look, don’t you think? Perhaps two or three more looks. That’s all I’m saying.”
As Judd looked away for a moment and turned back to answer, Eddie seemed to have vanished. Scanning the yard, Judd noticed that Eddie was slowly climbing the front steps of his home to determine the progress of the workers. Judd stayed, enjoying the warmth of Eddie’s lingering presence. Although it was getting close to noon and hotter than ever, he was content as he imagined what the old man was all about. He began flipping through the ragged paper and found himself easing back into the recliner. He thumbed through the musty pages, reading snippets of different stories and passages. He found himself mesmerized.
Judd, put the bundle of papers on his lap, took a breath, got up, and began to search for Eddie. More questions swirled in his head.
Eddie walked to the rear of the house, orchestrating the movers. Judd caught up with him and followed.
After a moment, Eddie pulled himself away from the mundane and in awkward silence, walked to the main staircase six feet from his opened front door. He sat down on the eighth step. He crossed his legs at his bony ankles and placed his graceful hands to the back of his head. Sunbeams shot through the door. He watched the workers as they swiftly moved in and out of his house.
Eddie’s home was empty. He stood and then moved with a lightened gait, as if a burden melted away. He walked outside and down the brick stoop one last time.
Judd picked up his pace to join him in the front of the house. The movers were busy repositioning the recliner in the recesses of the truck. It was done. With a yank of a canvas strap, the back door of the truck slammed shut. Just like that, his belongings were stowed away, never to return.
Eddie shouted, “Remember to deliver the furniture and boxes that are marked in red and send the rest on to the Salvation Army.” The men nodded and Eddie waved them on. He turned back to Judd.
“My parables, if you can call them that, are an attempt to show that there is meaning in all the ordinary things we do. Life lessons can be learned wherever we are, whether in a bustling city, on a farm in America’s heartland, or in a suburban neighborhood. There is much we can learn from the taxi driver, the stock broker, the dairy farmer and the neighborhood hairdresser…oh yeah, I learned a thing or two from her over the years,” he said smugly. He sighed, placing his hand on Judd’s shoulder. “In a way, they teach us who we are. Wisdom is not only right in front of us—it is within us. The truth that evades us lies within. It always has.”
The moment fell silent. Eddie turned to look at his house one more time. He faced Judd and with a toothy smile he said, “I’m ready.”
A moment later, he walked to his car and got in. Still smiling, he waved to Judd. Judd reciprocated.
“I’ll visit,” Judd said.
“No you won’t. You don’t know where I’m headed. Do me one better.”
“What’s that?”
“Look inside and add the next chapter.”
With that, Eddie drove away, not waiting for his neighbor’s response. Judd’s mind was empty and he said nothing. In solitude, he was motionless. But when Eddie was out of sight, his mind was now replete, and silently bade him a farewell with a promise.
“Goodbye Eddie. I will.”
The Kingdom of God is within you.
Jesus
Be a lamp to yourself. Be your own confidence. Hold to the truth within yourself, as to the only truth.
The Buddha
In the attitude of silence the soul finds the path in a clearer light, and what is elusive and deceptive resolves itself into crystal clearness. Our life is a long and arduous quest after the Truth.
Gandhi
Seek not good from without; seek it within yourself, or you will never find it.
Epictetus—second century
Ask questions from your heart and you will be answered from the heart.
Omaha—Native American
*****
Sometimes it takes storytelling to convince any spiritual being what he or she should already know. Truth comes from within. Simple? Maybe, but truth leads to wisdom, which is the tenuous center amid science and faith. What is truth? Who is truth? We must pause to discern how truth is real and part of our daily lives. But it is not enough to know oneself. As truth lies beneath our bones, so it lies beneath our neighbor’s bones as well. Simple?
*****
Want to read more parables of enlightened everyday living? Here’s the book.
What did you think of Eddie Zen? Let me know in the comments below.
About E.G. Kardos
I am a fiction writer and the author of five books. My writing draws inspiration from the beauty surrounding us all—both in nature and in each other. Spirituality, friendship, love, and our connection to the universe inspire me to write. Here’s more about me and my books.
“Love is a strange thing, and I yearn for it once more. I don’t need to give it much thought, I just need to give it sunlight and space to grow–to run in a field of tall grass and be free.”
Photo by Victoria Prymak
This is a quote from my novel, Cutting of Harp Strings. It is perhaps my favorite quote from all my books. Apparently, it is appreciated by others too.
As a writer, it’s incredibly rewarding when others share a quote or excerpt from my book. They, of course, cite where they found the quote and name me as the author. Sometimes people will mention this in a discussion or post it on their social media. This shows me that others, and not just me, appreciate the quote. Among the throngs of authors, I see this as a major “win.”
Quite frankly, it’s exhilarating.
A few weeks ago, however, I discovered that this quote was used on a social media account, and not only did they not cite my book or me, but they used it as a personal quote – verbatim. Sure, I know this wrongfully goes on all the time, but it was a real shocker for me—at least give me some credit I thought. I was steamed.
I mean this is my work and it depicts the soul of my novel—my soul.
It felt like someone reached into my chest and pulled out my heart. Was I overreacting? Maybe. But I don’t think so because a writer chooses their words carefully. Words matter as does their arrangement. It’s like the notes of music. This novel, too, was thirty years in the making.
I politely contacted the person and asked them to credit me with the quote. I didn’t ask them to remove it but to merely cite me. That was about four weeks ago, and it is still up as if it is their quote.
But you know what?
The very day I contacted the person, I decided to think differently. I decided that it was okay— not that I wanted to continually encounter this situation, but because this person was so captivated by my words that they wanted to use them for themselves.
Because of this shift in perspective, I immediately felt good. It was weird – like magic and I felt a surprisingly warm feeling wash over me. I imagined they might have read the book, and this passage had landed in a spot in their heart where they wanted it to remain close. They wanted it to be part of who they were. Then I thought…
Doesn’t every writer love when their readers become one with their story? I do.
In a way when I read the quote in light of this event, it grew a hundredfold. It became my elixir – and the reader’s as well.
Here is the full quote found in my novel. If you use it in some way, and I hope you do, please let folks know where you found it.
“It’s a maze—life that is. Sometimes, for moments here and there, it appears otherwise with clean lines and crystal facets. Not often. Life is more than what I thought. And I knew this all along but wasn’t willing to believe in myself—to believe me. Aiden showed me, but it was for me to act. Love is a strange thing, and I yearn for it once more. I don’t need to give it much thought, I just need to give it sunlight and space to grow—to run in a field of tall grass and be free.”
I am a fiction writer and the author of five books. My writing draws inspiration from the beauty surrounding us all—both in nature and in each other. Spirituality, friendship, love, and our connection to the universe inspire me to write. Here’s more about me and my books.
Coming-of-age or bildungsroman? When you hear the word “bildungsroman” what’s your initial thought? You probably have a good idea of what “coming-of-age” means in literature. For most, bildungsroman is not a term we use or hear regularly. If I had to guess, very few people know much about it. I was among this group until a few years ago as I used the term coming-of-age broadly. However, there are distinct differences between coming-of-age and bildungsroman novels.
The origin of the genre is German, where the word “bildung” means “formative” and the word “roman” means “novel”. Since bildungsroman novels are among my favorites I know plenty of others appreciate this genre. However, it is safe to say that most of us might not recognize the term so I thought I would share some thoughts.
So what is a Bildungsroman?
A bildungsroman is a coming-of-age story highlighting a young person’s psychological and moral development. Typically written in the first person, the protagonist shares their journey to maturity.
You might say that sounds like just another coming-of-age novel. A bildungsroman is always a coming-of-age story whereas not all coming-of-age novels are bildungsroman. A bildungsroman delves into themes of self-discovery and the search for identity. A protagonist’s inner journey including their values, spirituality, and understanding of the world is always a part of the bildungsroman.
A bildungsroman delves into themes of self-discovery and the search for identity.
Coming-of-Age versus Bildungsroman
A coming-of-age novel is a broader designation that oftentimes refers to any novel in any genre that explores the experiences and challenges of a character’s journey from childhood to adulthood. Coming-of-age stories emphasize growing up or coming to terms with the world. The operative phrase is coming to terms with the world. The way I look at it, in a bildungsroman, the protagonist is coming to terms with their view of the world that is found deep within them. As an actual genre or sub-genre, depending on who you talk to, these stories specifically focus on the protagonist’s psychological and moral development.
Although there are others, the major difference between a coming-of-age and a bildungsroman novel is that the protagonist mostly grapples with external challenges. In a bildungsroman the protagonist’s challenges are deep inside of them regardless of where they are in the physical world. Although in some coming-of-age stories, the protagonist struggles with internal issues, their loss of innocence may center more around relationships, sexual awakening, death and mortality, family issues, or social justice concerns.
The Structure of a Bildungsroman
Loss – the protagonist endures a profound emotional loss
Journey – because of their loss, the character embarks on a journey. The journey can be physical in nature, metaphorical, or both. They search for answers to what gnaws at them with hopes to better understand the world and how they fit or must navigate in that world.
Obstacles/conflict and growth – But as the story continues, like forcing a square peg in a round hole, the protagonist makes decisions that are not always the best. They eventually, willfully or not, resolve themselves to accept society’s ways.
Maturity/enlightenment – Psychological growth and change lead to, maturity. Many times the protagonist helps others who are on the same journey.
Although I have found the same books on lists for both bildungsroman and coming-of-age novels, the following, I feel, seem to be good examples of bildungsroman novels:
Jane Eyre by Charlotte Brontë
A Separate Peace by John Knowles
Great Expectations by Charles Dickens
The Catcher in the Rye by J. D. Salinger
To Kill a Mockingbird by Harper Lee
Call Me By Your Name by André Aciman
The Perks of Being a Wallflower by Stephen Chbosky
What do you think? Are all of these books bildungsroman? Coming -of-Age? What books would you add to the list? Which ones would you remove?
A Review of Sorts – some of my brief thoughts: A Separate Peace by John Knowles
One of my favorite books in this category is A Separate Peace. I first read it at age fifteen and it made an indelible impression on me. It inspired my novel, Cutting of Harp Strings many years later.
The novels I love evoke strong emotions and provoke thought. A Separate Peace does this for me as I experienced each moment alongside Gene during a poignant period of his life. He navigates a friendship—a love—that is difficult for him to understand. I know he would do anything for a “do-over” and I empathize with him and Finny.
Gene, the protagonist, tells the story of when he was a boy full of jealousy and self-doubt to an adult who learns from his mistakes and finally accepts the consequences of past actions.
With World War II as a backdrop, Knowles compares and contrasts both societal and personal loss of innocence. Gene struggles with his complex relationship with his roommate, Finny, as the immorality of war casts a shadow on all they do.
A good book is worth reading many times, and I have done just that. Each time, I learned something new about this once-in-a-lifetime friendship. Like all relationships, it is full of joy and pain. Knowles was a master at lulling us into what seems to be a simple and innocent adventure but is, in truth, a deep and dark journey within. It reminded me that we must always search for the truth. Finding it, however, can be elusive; we may hear the voice within, but listening to it is another matter.
I hope your next read is a bildungsroman. I hope to hear from you.
NOTE: This is a great source for more information on writing – Master Class
About E.G. Kardos
I am a fiction writer and the author of five books. My writing draws inspiration from the beauty surrounding us all—both in nature and in each other. Spirituality, friendship, love, and our connection to the universe inspire me to write. Here’s more about me and my books.
Over thousands of years, many of the greatest minds have grappled with the meaning of life. Questions abound regarding life’s origin, reason, purpose, and value. Still other questions persist, such as why we exist or what is life’s significance.
So Many Questions
We’re here already, so why the question of origin? All the “greats” over the millennia haven’t provided an answer to this or any of the questions that have plagued humanity about the meaning of life.
Why do we exist? Again, I’ll take the easy way out and say, does it matter? If we knew would we be doing things differently? Would we think differently? Maybe, but probably not. A brief history lesson will show that humans haven’t changed much over the years in this regard.
Photo by sander traa
We develop new tools – from a slingshot to automatic weapons or a printing press to a PC, but a slug moves faster than our progression of thinking and feeling about things how we treat others and ourselves.
What would we do if we knew?
Say we find out that we exist to help others of our species live a better life. Knowing that would we automatically do it? I’m talking about everyone since this is “why we exist”. We eat and drink to sustain life and everyone will do that, but wold everyone be in sync to do other things? I’m thinking no.
As far as life’s significance, well this seems arbitrary. That’s like wondering why we desire love. I’m not sure we need to analyze the significance of life or love. How about we just explore it? Life and love deserve it.
What about the many questions about life’s reason, purpose, and value? Well this is up to us. S this leads me to a far better question for each of us to ponder and that is:
So what is the meaning of OUR life?
With the question I pose, perhaps we can look at our past for clues, but spend most of our time looking at our present. Our present may then, in turn, inform our future.
“The unexamined life is not worth living.” – Socrates
We learn about ourselves through our experiences and attempt to find meaning. We are reflective by nature, but we often overlook or are unwilling to find meaning in our introspection. Just look at history and how we, humankind, seldom heed its message. We seem to like our olpitical existence.
We Decide
Like the skin of an onion, if we peel back the layers of man’s interpretation of how others should live, we may see ourselves as we truly are. It is up to us to do this as no one will do it for us. We shouldn’t expect anyone else to give us OUR answers, nor should we accept their decrees of other that tell us what’s meaningful to us individually.
What I find meaningful to me should be celebrated and not fit into some ancient scheme or blueprint.
Acceptance, affirmation, and intimacy are all strong needs we all have. Our existence is about the many connections we all experience. As an example, we have memories that are unique to us. Seldom does another soul value, or even remember, certain memories that we hold dear. They are ours and live in our very core. They are a record of our life. Among other aspects of our life, memories help create meaning in our life.
The moments of our lives, when collected and strung together like the choice words of a poem tell the tale of our lives and give it meaning. It’s not just the big moments but the tiny ones to
You Naturally Smile
Think of what you value, and an experience attached to that value. You naturally smile. We are made up of fun, somber, intimate, scary, insightful, bizarre, and mystical moments that all enliven who we are. That’s where we derive our own meaning.
Some folks think we must engage in some noble purpose, and this gives our life meaning. I like to keep in mind that, again, I decide what is “noble” and do not need others to judge the way I decide to give meaning to my life.
I am the only person who I have been with for every second of my life from the moment I was born until the moment I die. No one knows me or you better than me and and no one knows you better than you.
I am a fiction writer and the author of five books. My writing draws inspiration from the beauty surrounding us all—both in nature and in each other. Spirituality, friendship, love, and our connection to the universe inspire me to write. Here’s more about me and my books.
I don’t say that fantasy is a good read because I wrote a fantasy series, but because it just is, and I’ll share with you why I say that.
But first we should take a step back…
Back in the day, whenever that was, there were only four genres in literature: fiction, nonfiction poetry, and drama. Now we have so many variations that you’d be hard-pressed to come up with a true number of literary genres. I’ve seen lists well into the fifties.
In my research, there appear to be eleven popular genres, and they are: Romance, Fantasy, Science Fiction, Paranormal, Mystery, Horror, Thriller/Suspense, Action Adventure, Historical Fiction, and Contemporary Fiction. Poetry and Drama don’t even appear on this list anymore.
Eighteen Fantasy Sub-Genres
According to Masterclass, there are eighteen Fantasy sub-genres. About thirty-six to forty percent of all genres are fantasy. Clearly folks like to read fantasy! My series includes elements of both High and Low fantasy with that of Sword and Sorcery and some Crossroads fantasy.
Photo by jplenio
“Don’t like Fantasy?” I Just Can’t Believe It
When folks share with me that they don’t like fantasy, I’m always a bit puzzled. Fantasy at its core is the reflection of us–of them. Stories of the supernatural, the horrific, and ones that focus on a hero or superhero have sustained, bedazzled and taught humanity since the beginning of time.
Belief systems mirror fantasy and fantasy mirrors belief systems.
Belief systems mirror fantasy and fantasy mirrors belief systems. I, of course, respect that they don’t “like” fantasy, but I often respond that if they want to learn more about themselves and all of humanity, they might just do so reading fantasy as well as finding a sense of wonderment and awe.
But Many Find Fantasy a Good Read
Fantasy readership has exploded in the last few decades. According to a recent study I found on New Book, a significant portion of fantasy readers span the generations.
Fantasy readership statistics show that a significant portion of readers are young adults, with many over 18 years old. Many started reading fantasy at around 15. The average age, however, is 42 and a slight majority (55%) is female. No matter what age a fantasy reader is, no reading level is out of bounds. Trends show a growing adult audience that is reading young adult fantasy. That’s good for me as I like reading and writing fantasy that may be geared to younger readers.
Around 46% of those surveyed favored fantasy as their preferred genre. Many who read fantasy enjoy elements of escapism and adventure.
Don’t Older Folks Read Fantasy?
I’m an older reader and writer of fantasy and it bothers me that my demographic doesn’t appear in this study or others. I can’t believe folks around my age don’t read any sub-genre of fantasy. It amazes me that I grew up in a time of lots of fantasy and sci-fi in books, on TV as well as in the movies. Dune, The Lord of the Rings, Brave New World, the Lion Witch and the Wardrobe, Out of the Silent Planet, and A Wrinkle in Time were some of the popular reads. On TV and film there was Star Trek, the Twilight Zone, The Planet of the Apes, Willie Wonka among mnay others.
So why do older readers shun fantasy? I sometimes think that the older we get we grow further apart from admitting we need a superhero or appreciating the magic that at one point was firmly secure in our imagination. Escaping int a story or going on a mystical adventure has been replaced with stressing out over current events and worrying about the future or regreting the past. This has a way of draining our soul. That’s the last thing we need. We need more fantasy!
Fantasy is a Good Read as it Does it All
Fantasy does it all. It entertains and by doing so, we see our reflection in the characters. We relate to their values, and we are there with them on the adventure. The story gives us pause as we think if that could be us one day. Sometimes we see that it is us already good or bad. In fantasy there is always an element of hope–of something greater.
Fantasy at its very core is a very human story. That’s why fantasy is a good read.
For the older reader, learn from the youger reader. I say that we yearn for magic, mystery and marvel and we shouldn’t let it slip away. Fantasy at its core is a very human story. It gives us an adventure of a lifetime. It has a way of teaching us something about humanity, our universe and our very existence even when we don’t look for it.
I am a fiction writer and the author of five books. My writing draws inspiration from the beauty surrounding us all—both in nature and in each other. Spirituality, friendship, love, and our connection to the universe inspire me to write. Here’s more about me and my books.
“I wish it need not have happened in my time,” said Frodo. “So do I,” said Gandalf, “and so do all who live to see such times. But that is not for them to decide. All we have to decide is what to do with the time that is given us.”
― J.R.R. Tolkien, The Fellowship of the Ring
The Time We Have
If you have read any of the books or watched any of the movies, you may agree that The Lord of The Rings is a powerful saga. Yes, I said it—saga. Tolkien was masterful with the entirety of the story but what I find wondrous is that all the bits and pieces along the way are full of flavor and are stories in themselves. They are powerful all on their own.
The quote above is part of a brief conversation between Gandalf and Frodo. If you haven’t read the books or watched the movies, you may still appreciate its depth as it is rich with meaning whether in or out of the story.
These fifty-one words are all about humanity’s age old divide between those who seek power and those who seek to live the life they were meant to live.
The powerful, many times, feed off the destruction of their own making only to disrupt humanity to, well, gain more power. I’m in the camp that power based in love, compaaion and insight lifts humanity.
Each sentence in this quote is revealing. this is how I look at it.
Frodo says… I wish it need not have happened in my time
Although Frodo is a Hobbit, he expresses a very human feeling we all, at some time feel. Every so often this feeling results from a natural phenomenon like an earthquake or a hurricane, but most of the time, it results from man and his intentional actions. War would be a big one as would dehumanizing those who are not like us.
History is full of men who overreach to claim power and control. By doing so, those who seek to live their lives the best they can and how they see fit are whipped into colossal, turbulent waves. They get caught in the wake of the murky froth of the power-hungry and their dark and self-serving decisions.
Humanity and everything about how we live is dualistic. We have good, so there is bad; we have love, so there is hate; we have the rich, so we must have the poor, and so on. Power without love, compasion or insight exists to prey on the weak…the poor…or those deemed as unworthy.
What is imagined in the mind can become a reality.
The above neutral statement is easily corrupted when the cunning manipulator is searching for a “treasure” that benefits the few. If only those who sought power also sought good.
Gandalf follows his statement and says…So do I
These three words show empathy. The experienced and wise wizard has seen much in his long life, but it is with his experience that his empathy flows naturally. More importantly, it is soothing—it is healing.
He is reafirming in these three words. He offers, as all good teachers do, a broder view with what he says next.
…and so do all who live to see such times.
We search for answers — for perspective. As long as humans have roamed the planet they have, from time to time, created devatation. The wise teacher reminds young Frodo (and us too) that we are not alone.
But Gandalf goes on to say…But that is not for them to decide.
When we realize that most of us feel the same way, our imagination, too, may shape what is next. With the hard truth, Gandalf moves Frodo away from taking a turn into self-despair as self-despair is exactly what the powerful want from those they wish to control.
He helps Frodo to focus when he says,
…All we have to decide is what to do with the time that is given us.
When outside forces suffocate us, will we find the spark within us to take charge of our next step…and then the second step… and then…
Simply, we are not alone. We always have help. We always have hope. And with that, it is us who decide what to do with the time that is given us.
I am a fiction writer and the author of five books. My writing draws inspiration from the beauty surrounding us all—both in nature and in each other. Spirituality, friendship, love, and our connection to the universe inspire me to write. Here’s more about me and my books.
I remember a day many years back. It was probably 2005. The sun shone bright as I was driving somewhere. The volume on my car radio was up a few extra notches. Totally at ease, I belted out the song on the radio. I approached a traffic light and continued singing as an onlooker on one side in another car smiled while those on the opposite side poked fun at my expense. But at all the traffic stops along the way, most, I observed, didn’t even notice my performance as their cell phones appeared to be permanently affixed to their ears. They weren’t there.
By the time I arrived at my destination, I determined that this was now the norm. People were yakking on their phones pretty much all the time. I assumed they all wanted to be somewhere other than where they were at that moment.
Thinking like a Zen Master
I reflected more on this situation. Why do we attach ourselves to things? They are terribly unimportant. Just think about it; if we would only listen to ourselves, we might begin to realize what is truly important. I concluded that folks, me included, who rely on so many external devices to get through the day need something more.
Photo by Objektifin_gordugu
If we paused for a moment now and then and listened quietly to the story within us, we might surprise ourselves.
Then again, what if we listened to others too? I mean really listen to what they say and what they are all about.
Answers We Seek
I’m sorry to say that tuning our people because we are busy on our devices is not so unusual these days, but if we stopped what we were doing and paid attention to others, we might find the answers to our questions, even those questions that are firmly in us, but we don’t dare ask.
If we let go of things and replace them with people, and we listen, wouldn’t we be on the path to a more fulfilling life? I think so.
This is why stories are so important. They help us realize that humanity strives for the same things. We see that we are all connected and spiritual beings, regardless of our faith tradition.
The Zen Master is in our Stories
It’s all in stories. In stories, we discover that we understand ourselves a little more, and by doing so, we understand others. We find that we are a compassionate people—we must be.
Ancient but Relevant
In 2008 I decided to write stories about everyday people doing everyday things that led them to more.
Parables, Zen stories, and other tales explore age-old ideas but remain relevant as we detach ourselves from what is undoubtedly unimportant, distracting, and troublesome.
What may seem obvious to some may be quite tricky to grasp. My stories are relevant and timely, as many of us long to live inspired lives. You know I’m right about this.
My writing, which became Zen Master Next Door, serves as a tool worth sharing.
Why a tool?
Between the truth and us lies a dense thicket of thorns and brush. But with the right tools, it is much easier to navigate. One way to make it through the brush unscathed is to recognize the “Zen Master” who may be closer to us than we think.
Although first publihsed seventeen years ago, these stories could’ve been written today. What we find in ourselves and those around us has endured and will continue to live as long as humans dwell on this planet.
We can look within ourselves and see our reflection in these parables. Zen Master Next Door: Parables for Enlightened Everyday Living aims to show us that we can discover similar stories of inspiration within ourselves. In each parable, I hope the reader reflects on how each character and circumstance relates to their own life.
We all possess great stories to share. I am sharing mine.
Based on truth, these parables are the epitome of fiction, as the guts of storytelling are the essence of truth.
I am a fiction writer and the author of five books. My writing draws inspiration from the beauty surrounding us all—both in nature and in each other. Spirituality, friendship, love, and our connection to the universe inspire me to write. Here’s more about me and my books.
The reality that we navigate daily appears to be, well, real. On the surface, wouldn’t you say that we can count on it? It’s here to last, right? We certainly can’t mistake what’s fake for reality. Oh really? Man certainly does mistake “what is fake or made up” for what is real. It’s hard to miss this one as it is a daily occurance, but that’s for another post. As far as “counting on reality” or reality is “here to last”, I’m just not sure of that either. Suffice it to say, humans shape reality like it or not. I think Plato hit it on the nose when he said, “The reality is created by the mind.
My leaning on the subject is that “… Nothing lasts forever but the Earth and Sky… “ as the rock band, Kansas, wrote and sang in their hit, Dust in the Wind. Great song. So that’s the way I lean. Unless it is the Earth or the sky, I’m not so sure we can count on it or that it’s here to last. After all, very few physical and nonphysical realities that man has originated have truly lasted. Humans are pretty good at making new tools over time and those in power create social constructs–some last for a while.
Photo by Michelle LeBlanc
Created by the mind
Reality, both in physical and nonphysical reality (like social constructs), is the product of the minds of humans over the millions of years. Other than what comes from the natural world, everything else started as an idea in someone’s head—good or bad. It’s all fantasy until we take an idea and build it.
Cell phones don’t grow in the wild.
Just an aside…man has been an expert on how to create a war, but not so good at creating a reality that eliminates them. Perhaps we are still lacking in some areas. This is a little heavy for this post, but it is a clear example that man creates his own reality–for himself and everyone under his control.
My family and I like to go to the mountains and escape from the craziness of life. On a recent trip I remember sitting on the cabin’s porch in an old rocking chair. I was looking out to the mountains, the stream and a setting sun. A thought popped into my head. I thought that everything that was in front of me was truly real and untainted. As that thought became louder in my head so did another. Where I sat and all behind me (the cabin and everything in it) was only “real” because man had a thought and did something about it. For example, he might have said, “I want to sit on something other than the ground.” From that, came the first chair. It suddenly became real – it is now part of reality. Fast forward to cell phones–same thing.
I still think that the sky, the mountains, and the stream are my reality of choice but I assume they don’t measure up for some folks. It’s what I value. The stuff we own, not so much.
Taking a stake in what’s created by the mind
The communities we live in didn’t just happen. Someone or some group thought about what they wanted to do, and they built it—urban, suburban, and rural. This all seems very obvious. I remind myself it’s fine for others’ reality to enter our life as that is how it is and our hope is that others’ intentions are good. But we should have a stake in our reality. In other words, we don’t have to be penned in by others’ reality everytime we turn around.
One way to give us some control of our reality is as easy and as enjoyable as reading and writing. Both of these are solitary activities. So take control of what is real for you, and one way to do this is when we read or write.
What?
When we read fiction—any kind of fiction—it transports us. We to to another land—could be London in the 1880s, the Congo in the 1940s, a million light years in some other time or in a different parallel world to right now.
Wherever it takes us, it is for sure, taking us away into a reality of our choosing.
If we allow ourselves, we are immersed into the author’s version of those places, times and situations. But best of all, through their eyes we now live in this fictional space. We become part of the fabric of the tale. We are given freedom to interpret what we read. It is us who give the words shapes, color, sounds, smells, taste, and know how it feels in our hands or beneath our feet. What a gift the author has given us.
Our self expression is created by the mind
I encourage people to not only read but to write—or to express themselves in the manner that best suits them. There are many wonderful options for expression. Dance, painting, sketching, photography, digital art, and the list goes on.
When we express ourselves, we become the master of our own reality as we are in control and we’re calling the shots.
When Plato said, “The reality is created by the mind”, I think he meant that the world is best lived when we seek its meaning. We have the capacity to shape what’s in front of us—not just to passively let it go by. It’s less about making a chair or a cell phone but it’s about using our imagination to help us understand what is happening around us, and to find the meaning in our own lives.
There’s something about knowing that nothing lasts forever except the earth and sky. I say let’s try to understand where we live and those who live here. That reality speaks to me.
About E.G. Kardos
I am a fiction writer and the author of five books. My writing draws inspiration from the beauty surrounding us all—both in nature and in each other. Spirituality, friendship, love, and our connection to the universe inspire me to write. Here’s more about me and my books.
Among many, a single Zen story grabbed my attention. Many years ago, I received a book full of Zen stories entitled, Zen Flesh, Zen Bones. Paul Reps and Nyogen Senzaki compiled this book of stories that were first told in the 13th century by Japanese Zen master Mujū (無住) (“non-dweller”).
At the time, this was all new to me so finding them all in one book was a treat for me. As I mentioned, one story stood out.
Zen Story
Giving the reader or listener pause, a Zen story conveys profound insights about our existence and stimulates new perspectives. They are simple but deeply filled with rich symbolism. As we read they draw us in to the moment we are living in and encourage us to question our path in life.
In particular, Zen story number 84, True Friends, stood out and was, and continues to be my favorite. As most Zen stories go, it is succinct and to the point, but it is powerful beyond all measures.
More about the Zen Story, True Friends
Of the many Zen stories, True Friends is unique among 101 tales. However, I wanted more on the sugject. I researched the “ultimate friendship” or “intimate friendship” in literature, especially among men, but what I found was surprisingly sparse. This seemed very odd to me, as friendships are vital to our existence.
Yes, there is no formal union or vow for a friendship, but having the fortunate but infrequent occasion to connect with someone on a deeper level and create a bond is life-altering. The opposite, unfortunately, is equally profound.
When writing my novel Cutting of Harp Strings, I searched the internet for more information about the Zen story True Friends. There too, I found very little. I wanted to dig deeper and gain as many perspectives as I could both in literary works and other Zen stories but I came up short. If you know of another Zen story about true friendship, let me know in the comments section below.
It was then that I realized that my story, the one I wrote, is the deeper view on friendship I was looking for. Of all places, it came from my pen and keyboard.
Because this Zen story, as far as I can tell is just about unknown, I receive many questions about the title of my novel and its symbolism. I’d like to share this excerpt from the story as I think it answers those questions.
“I would like to tell you a story, Eli. A very special story that an old Buddhist monk told me when I was just a little older than you. Not many know this, but I spent three years in a different sort of monastery.”
“A Buddhist monk? What? That’s awesome Father.” We both smiled, and he continued.
“A long time ago there were two friends, one who played the harp skillfully, and one who listened skillfully. When the one played a song about the mountains, the other would listen and say, ‘I’m on top of that mountain.’ And when the one played a song about the river, the other would say, ‘Here, right before us, is the running river.’
One day the one who listened became ill and died. Out of love, the first friend cut the strings of his harp, and never played again.”
I said nothing. Catching my attention, a squirrel scampered by and scurried up a tree. As my eyes followed him on his climb, the mountains appeared in full view.
Much symbolism may be found in the above eighty-eight words, but I am especially moved reading,
“…Out of love, the first friend cut the strings of his harp, and never played again.”
I am a fiction writer and the author of five books. My writing draws inspiration from the beauty surrounding us all—both in nature and in each other. Spirituality, friendship, love, and our connection to the universe inspire me to write. Here’s more about me and my books.
Keep reading. Whatever it is you read–keep reading. I have written and published literary fiction, fantasy, and short stories, but I’ve read books from various fiction and nonfiction categories. Most of the time, I confess, I read literary, general fiction, and fantasy and sprinkle in some nonfiction. I love variety. Don’t you?
My mantra is whatever you like to read, keep reading it. At the same time, be open to new genres
What You Read is Open to Interpetation
As a writer of fiction, I believe all works of literature are open to interpretation. I completely encourage this. There’s magic behind reading, and it comes from taking the time to reflect on what we are reading.
My best reads are those that give me something to think about.
Non-fiction vs Fiction
Non-fiction, for the most part, is less about interpreting the prose but about accepting or, sometimes, questioning the facts that are laid out in front of us. But nonfiction has broad categories as well. I’m thinking of self-help, how-to, historical accounts and biographies, and books on belief systems among many others.
Even if you read non-fiction, you just can’t believe everything you read. It’s good to read a variety of non-fiction books about the same subject matter and by doing so, we gain rich perspectives. What’s important in my mind, is, however, whatever you like reading, keep reading.
More about Fiction
When you pick up a book, each story is new and fresh to us, and when we immerse ourselves into each paragraph, sentence, and word it is, of course, through our personal lens—and all the many relationships we have. This is among my favorite reasons to both keep reading and writing fiction.
Fiction is about Relationships
We are all about relationships. Not just relationships with humans, but relationships with animals and any living being including plants, trees, and insects – if you don’t believe me, many belief systems revere many different kinds of living beings. But we also have relationships with our earth, and our God, or not — depending upon what we believe. We can’t forget our relationship with ourselves which I think is sometimes overlooked.
What did I miss?
Given just this short list, building, and sustaining relationships is a full-time job! It only goes to show that when we read literature, depending upon which relationships we value most, certain parts of a story mean different things to every reader. Reading fiction is a very personal undertaking unless you are on some kind of mission to read 500 books a year! But that’s a different sort of reading altogether.
We are unique in every way and, perhaps, it is because of the way we view our existence.
Just think about the reviews you’ve read. Some readers love a book while others hate it. Some readers identify an obscure part of a story and latch on to it while others miss that part altogether. We owe it to ourselves to invite differing opinions on the written word and if we do, perhaps more people will keep reading.
Humans and our Love and Need of the Written Word
There is nothing more human than the written word that we created many centuries ago. Yes, drawings, paintings, sculptures, and other forms of expression are vital and should be appreciated, but the written word does more and allows us to live among those in the story.
Words allow us to tell the story of what it is to be human, to interpret it, and to realize that every emotion we feel today has been felt by millions before us, whether we were queens, farmers, or factory workers. This makes our relationships with each other all the more important.
It is how the characters respond to what comes their way and our response to the character.
When we think of all the genres in fiction, such as horror, mystery/crime, science fiction, thriller/suspense, romance, fantasy, western, historical, or young adult, every story depends on how the characters respond and react to their various relationships in their lives. This opens the magic door for us to eavesdrop and get drawn in. Yes, the plot is important, especially for specific genres, but even so it is all about how we interpret the relationships in the story.
No matter what, keep reading.
What do you think?
About E.G. Kardos
I am a fiction writer and the author of five books. My writing draws inspiration from the beauty surrounding us all—both in nature and in each other. Spirituality, friendship, love, and our connection to the universe inspire me to write. Here’s more about me and my books.
Why read fiction? I have a few ideas. If you know someone who dislikes to read fiction, I bet they never really gave it a chance. There are many benefits to reading fiction that I bet even the most avid fiction reader has yet to consider.
I look at it this way. Non-fiction is mostly about learning something new. We pick up a “how to” book or a book about WWII andhope to learn something new.
Photo by Terranaut
But most who read fiction, and those who don’t read fiction, may not think of it as a learning process.
But like non-fiction, believe it or not, there’s much to learn when we read fiction.
My reasons to read fiction
I’ll begin with my favorite reason to read fiction—and this concept may be a real lightning rod for some folks—but here it goes. Fiction WILL enhance empathy.
Yep…it will.
Empathy is our ability to make sense of the feelings of another person. When we are empathetic, we share what the person is feeling. We feel the emotions of others and relate to them on a whole new level. We feel joy when they win the race of their life, or they escape a burning building. Or we feel misery when they just lost their job, or they are diagnosed with cancer, or when their dog died.
Good writing means good characters so when we get to know them and immerse ourselves in their emotions and their lives, we develop the ability to relate with others outside of the fictional world. Just think, perhaps if we read more fiction we will see our personal relationships enhanced. Maybe we might think differently about our fellow humans across the planet. Enhancing our empathy is a top reason for me to read fiction
Creativity
When we read fiction it will heighten our creativity and we may be more receptive to new and unique ideas.
When we read fiction we uncover an endless supply of new ideas and new ways to think.
Our perspective is broadened. That’s what being creative means—to think in new ways and be open to other’s ideas as well.
It transports us
We can go anywhere in the world, in the universe and parallel universes, and do it all by staying in the comfort of our favorite place to read. It can transport us back in time, in the future, to another planet or under the sea–the list goes on. We see new worlds develop right in front of our mind’s eye. The author gives the reader enough room so they, too, are part of the world-building.
That’s pretty cool. We are reminded that the world is not black and white, and fiction urges us to color our own lives.
Another favorite – our imagination
Our imagination takes off when we read fiction. Unfortunately, as we age most of our imagination becomes stagnant but when we read fiction, like magic, it reappears. We become immersed in unique adventures, taking journeys and going on quests we will never take in “real life”. But we can do so much more when reading fiction. When we read fiction it ignites something in our mind. Our imagination grows. We gain a spectacular and new perspectives and this spills out to our real life.
How we think
Reading fiction improves how we think and improves our cognitive skills. All eight genres, as well as literary fiction, can be complex whether the novel is a horror, mystery/crime, science fiction, thriller/suspense, romance, fantasy, western, historical, or young adult.
As we think through the complexities of the plot as well as each character we meet, we improve our memory and our critical thinking skills.
We start to get in the heads of the characters, and we think through the situation with them. We may ask, “Why did you do that?” or “Don’t even think about it.”
Entertainment, escapismand emotional well-being
It’s obvious! We read fiction for entertainment or for escapism. Many books take us to our “happy place” or meet us where we feel today, right now. Sometimes we need a good romance or be whisked away is a good suspense or young adult story.
With millions of books, every kind of story is only a click away.
When we read fiction, it is like talking to an old friend who brings us a smile when we need it. We can turn off the real world and enter a fictional world, and we are better off for it. Good fiction is worth multiple reads as we learn or feel something new each time. We find another gem that the author is sharing with us.
Similarly, fiction helps improve our emotional well-being. We can cry, laugh, or feel sorrow, but then we can put it aside—it can be very cathartic. Fiction allows us to feel every emotion and can be releasing and cleansing.
Engaging with others
How you engage others will grow with reading fiction. Just being exposed to different authors from all over the world, or from just down the street, we learn of the many cultures that make up the world. Maybe we’ll pick up something new that helps us when we reach out to others. Maybe we will add words to our vocabulary as well.
By the very nature of “fiction”, many folks think, is it made up…it’s all pretend. But I don’t think so. It gives us the truth but just in different ways.
Humans have always learned from stories and we need as many stories as we can get our hands on especially today.
Can you think of other reasons? I want to hear from you.
About E.G. Kardos
I am a fiction writer and the author of five books. My writing draws inspiration from the beauty surrounding us all—both in nature and in each other. Spirituality, friendship, love, and our connection to the universe inspire me to write. Here’s more about me and my books.
Being a writer goes hand in hand with being a reader. Nothing is better for developing the protagonist than this combination, which provides a strong foundation for fleshing out your protagonist or any of your characters.
Capturing the reader’s perspective is crucial. Character development is a creative process and not a science. Adding “ingredients” from a checklist will get you only so far as there is a true art of developing the protagonist. Don’t get me wrong– I’m not saying I’ve got it down pat, but as a practitioner, I have a few thoughts to share that may help.
Before your character slays a dragon, who are they? Are they scared? Maybe they’re boastful or even fearless. How did they get that way? What motivates them? How do they behave when they aren’t slaying dragons? Would you like them? Would they be your friend–your enemy? Do you think readers would connect with them? Why?
As I begin to write, I believe the characters are what enliven the story, so I “create” the protagonist first. Sure, I have an idea of the plot and some basics around it, but when I write I’m focused on breathing life into my characters. I always think about the reader and how they will receive the character. It is, however, a fine line between what I want in a protagonist and what I think the reader wants or expects. I enjoy a give-and-take as it makes the creative process challenging and fun.
Developing the Protagonist
Because writing is an art it is anything but mechanical. There are rules, yes, but as the creator of your story, I feel that appreciating and enjoying your time in the process and expressing your creativity in a way that follows your own truth is a pillar of “your Parthenon”.
…a gigantic sense of awe and humility…
There is both a gigantic sense of awe and humility when creating your characters. They have to be real to me before I think a reader may relate to them. The reader is always part of my character development process.
When creating my characters, I ask the questions:
what resonates with me about this character;
do I know someone like this or would or would not want to know them;
what are their vulnerabilities; and what are their redeeming qualities?
I ask these question from a reader’s perspective as well.
For antagonists or even villains, this is also important to use these questions, or ones of your choosing, to develop all your characters.
Emotions are a big part of developing characters
Unlike other living creatures, we as humans are defined by our emotions—and we have ALL of them and so should your protagonist. The most masculine or feminine character embodies all emotions.
The protagonist must express emotions other than a token one or two sprinkled in 70,000 to 100,000 words. Dialog and action are important but good characters must possess more.
I think some basic emotions such as anger, surprise, enjoyment, fear, disgust, and sadness should find a place in most stories.
If appropriate characters could exhibit pride, greed, wrath, envy, lust, attachment, and jealousy. These are very human feelings and behaviors. When reading or telling stories, we should expect humans to be humans.
Flaws and all
When developing the protagonist, I think they should have a flaw–or several This is crucial. Does anyone really relate to the perceived “perfect” person? We have read very poignant stories of the perceived perfect person only to discover how their flaw(s) shaped them in the long run. Flaws can be almost anything but here are some to name a few.
Anxious
Impulsive
Stubborn
Insecure
Awkward
Hot-headed
Afraid of “something” like spiders, the dark, or a crowded room
What are their beliefs?
What do the protagonists (and other main characters) believe in? Their beliefs may be what motivates their behaviors throughout.
Do they believe in:
A higher power–or not?
Do they believe in the power of nature?
How about the “American Dream”?
What about the “rules of the street”?
Do they believe in the power of love? Do they believe in themselves– a little or way too much?
What human construct guides their lives or what do they want to change either in society or within?
Who are they?
What they believe in or want to believe in makes them who they are.
How about their backstory?
Unraveling the protagonist’s backstory throughout the story is a great way to slowly give your reader just enough information to keep them interested and turning pages.
Are they the middle child of a large family,
Are they an only child, or, perhaps, an orphan?
Do they come from a loving home or not?
Rich, poor, or somewhere in the middle? Why?
What obstacles did they face?
What was freely handed to them whether or not they accepted it or not?
Did they do something they are ashamed of or were they heralded as a champion of some kind?
What experience painted their life to this point?
“We are the sum total of our experiences. Those experiences – be they positive or negative – make us the person we are, at any given point in our lives. And, like a flowing river, those same experiences, and those yet to come, continue to influence and reshape the person we are, and the person we become. None of us are the same as we were yesterday, nor will be tomorrow.”
― B.J. Neblett, an American author
Well-developed characters cannot escape the life they have led before the moment they are introduced to the reader. But great characters emerge in front of our eyes as we join them in their journey.
Quirks – Everyone has them
This might be just me, but I think the protagonist should have some personality traits or quirks that have no apparent reason why they have such a trait
Why someone is fair when they have had an unfair life, or they are humble when they have sunk the winning shot, or they are insightful beyond their years all contribute to who the character’s being.
These are a few quirks that will make a character unique:
wears a funky hat/glasses
flips their hair a lot
has a special diet or favorite food
has a strange tatoo
winks at weird times
bites their lip in a stressful situation
juts out their chin when thinking
hums classical music at odd times
has a peculiar habit or pastime
Last thoughts
Developing the protagonist is above all things, an art. The creative process goes from the introduction to the last thought of a story, and the complexities of the protagonist and other characters take us there. They urge us to take their journey with them.
Writing well-developed characters involves exploring our own truths to create individuals with deep roots and profound insights that can move us. This process should be enjoyed and savored.
Keeping the reader in mind, developing good characters is an exploration of our own truth. The process should bring to life characters who are profound and have something to share. They should have the ability to move readers in some way as it is a delicate process unlike anything else.
About E.G. Kardos
I am a fiction writer and the author of five books. My writing draws inspiration from the beauty surrounding us all—both in nature and in each other. Spirituality, friendship, love, and our connection to the universe inspire me to write. Here’s more about me and my books.
The average text is 20 words, and the average sentence is about 10 words. The average person sends about 40 to 50 texts daily, and that’s something like 800 to 1000 words a day! Not everyone is the same, I know, but texting is a part of life. If you can text you can journal.
Why we should journal
Since we’ve gotten pretty good at conveying our message with very few words I say, apply this to writing a journal. To start, go for what would be a long text and shoot for 20 to 30 words for your first journal entry. Type it—or write it—somewhere for only your eyes to see.
So what are you waiting for?
Here are some outcomes that could come from journaling:
It can help bring some clarity to our life.
It can be a trusted place to share our deepest thoughts and emotions.
You’ll love it. Enjoy recording your life and go to it often for self-reflection or to make plans based on it.
It can help you understand yourself more fully.
It’s a place where you can “try out” your ideas without anyone judging them.
It’s a place where you can be completely open and honest with yourself.
Why we don’t journal
We hesitate to write down what’s important to us because it can be daunting—not our life necessarily, but all the rules and guidance that come with journaling. I did my research, and I have found what seems to be a whole matrix to guide folks to write anything from novels and poetry to to-do lists.
Rules are important, but not with journaling. I encourage a bit more freewheeling approach. The idea, in my mind, is to make it easy and enjoyable. I would love to see more folks write—and read.
A journal is about jotting down ourmoments, our thoughts and feelings. That’s a good place for us to start.
Back to texting/journalling…here’s an example of what I mean:
Monday, January 6, 2025
Today started with high expectations. Then my car didn’t start and was stuck at home. So bummed out but ended up starting my journal instead.
Or
Tuesday, January 7, 2025
My day started with dreading each hour. Later Nathan asked for my help with redecorating ideas for his apartment. Our ideas just popped up from nowhere. So much fun!
Or
Wednesday, January 8, 2025
Thinking about asking Nathan out but maybe it’s too soon. Got to think about it. I got my car to start and went out with friends and had a blast.
WARNING: Do not think your entries in your journal need to read like Sylvia Plath, Franz Kafka, John Green, or any of the other thousand famous writers, scientists, explorers, or famous people we have heard of who have written journals. This is your life—give it some love.
Evolution of our Entries
As we write about whatever we want to write about from our day, we will see our entries evolve. How? That’s up to you. You may find that you go from 30 words to 60. Also, you may find begin to focus on only one part of your day. You may decide to write only how you feel about your day. It could lead to ideas and thoughts about your future.
It’s about the moment- your moment
In addition to the outcomes I shared above, I think it is an opportunity to document moments of your life: the good ones, maybe the ones we spent with others, and even a few not-so-great moments. It is who we are.
Our lives are seldom about one gigantic event, but it is about the stinging together of moments, both significant and ordinary. Your journal may be more helpful to you in the future than today as our minds get more cluttered by so much that isn’t really important, however, what you have to say and the moments that help define you are of ultimate importance.
Aiden, a character in my novel, Cutting of Harp Strings, put it this way:
“… Hey, no one’s perfect. I just look for the perfect moment, not the perfect person, and that includes when I’m looking at myself.”
I say go for the freewheeling approach to journaling. You know what’s best. Let your texting be your guide. If You Can Text, You Can Journal
About E.G. Kardos
I am a fiction writer and the author of five books. My writing draws inspiration from the beauty surrounding us all—both in nature and in each other. Spirituality, friendship, love, and our connection to the universe inspire me to write. Here’s more about me and my books.
I was a slow reader when I was young. Full disclosure: I’m still a slow reader—no big deal. But back in third grade and earlier, as a struggling reader, no matter what I did, I could not move up from the “Group 3” readers to Group 2 and certainly not Group 1. For an eight-year-old, that was a very big deal.
I know many teachers still use reading levels, and this is now under great debate, but it was nothing but a horrible experience for me and was a deterrent to my progress as a reader in many ways—anyway, I am digressing from the start so let me get back to my story.
As I said, I tried everything to advance to Group 2. Group 1 was my ultimate dream—weird, but that’s how my eight-year-old brain worked. My mom brought home books, and she would work with me, so I had wonderful support. Though I probably made more strides at home than at school, it just wasn’t enough for the teacher to notice my improvement. I liked reading as I knew, even as a little kid, that I could be a part of an adventure by reading books–and I liked that. But as a slow-reading little kid, this was painful time, but I kept plugging along.
When I was in third grade the bottom fell out for me.
I remember that day so clearly. The teacher, who I will only refer to only as Miss Cringeworthy told us, in her usual harsh tone, to open our readers. Our readers were full of forgetful stories that were anything but what third graders may read today: Matilda, Diary of a Wimpy Kid, Captain Underpants, Stuart Little, or Charlie and the Chocolate Factory to mention a few..
The book we read was a collection of archaic and unmemorable stories. What we read was the only part of that day that I can’t fully recall. I just know the stories were NOT interesting. Maybe if they were, I wouldn’t have struggled as much.
Our desks were arranged in rows. Miss Cringeworthy always started our reading lesson by having the first kid in the first row read the first paragraph. they would be followed by the second kid who would read the second paragraph and so on down the row to start again with row two.
I was the twelfth kid and near the end of the second row. I looked ahead in the story to find “my paragraph” that I would be reading. Reading it over and over again I hoped I would read it perfectly when it was my turn.
That was my plan – struggling reader or not!.
The Worst Silence
My heart began to beat faster and faster as the eleventh kid was finishing her paragraph. I cleared my throat and I began to read. I thought I was doing fine. But the next thing I heard came from Miss Cringeworthy. At the top of her lungs she bellowed, “STOP!”
It seemed like the worst silence I have ever experienced, as I felt my heart thump and thought the rest of my classmates could hear the “thump” too.
From where she was standing at the front of the room, she began to slowly walk down the aisle to where I sat. The only sound in the air was the click-click of her pointy high heels that she stuffed her feet into that morning. Each short step she tookgnawed at me until she stopped and hovered over me. Looking up, her face reminded me of a bowl of quivering Jello and her eyes bulged out.
I swallowed and looked right at her.
“I taught your older sister,” she said softly.
Pause.
“And I believe your older brother as well.”
Another pause that was much too long for any eight-year-old to endure.
“And you are nothing like them.”
Still looking at her bulging eyes in a pool of jiggling Jello, I wascrushed–I was mortified.
My eyes welled up and I was ready to bust out and cry. But I don’t know how I did it, but I held it in.
But I cried inside. Thankfully the class looked down at their books and said nothing.
She click-clicked her way back to the front of the classroom. That was that…until I told my mom…but that is another story.
Here’s me speaking to a college-level course in 2023 about writing fantasy.
Photo by Lisa Cipolletti >>
So…From a Struggling Reader to Writing Fantasy...Years Later
I never dwelt on this moment but I never forgot it either. Leap forward to 2011. As a lifelong daydreamer and lover of fantasy, I looked back at that moment and decided I wanted to write a story that I would have loved as that kid—and as an adult.
One that would captivate the reader that was full of mystery, marvel, and magic.
My story had to be about a young boy who was searching for answers; a story where the mentor was an encouraging guide. I wanted to write about following our heart and our truth. I wrote the first book, The Amulet: Journey to Sirok,of a fantasy trilogy. I called the series The Elias Chronicles.
Miss Cringeworthy was long gone before I wrote and published Book I of the trilogy, otherwise, I would have delivered her a personally signed copy–with a smile..
Have you ever had an experience like this one? What did you do about it? Let me know.
About E.G. Kardos
I am a fiction writer and the author of five books. My writing draws inspiration from the beauty surrounding us all—both in nature and in each other. Spirituality, friendship, love, and our connection to the universe inspire me to write. Here’s more about me and my books.
“Just do you” and “It’s nobody’s business but yours” are phrases that we hear and, at best may be well intended but are grossly superficial. If it were that easy, we wouldn’t live in a world of raised eyebrows from followers mostly cut out of the same mold. I say, follow your heart!
If you strive to be your true self, you know the value of “following your heart.”
Although some may think that following your heart is the same as following your dream, they are very different.
Dreams are something outside of us that we aspire to be or have. I may have a dream of getting rich and living in a castle. I might dream of being a high-powered lawyer, CEO, or a movie star. I’ll admit, these aspirations are exciting, but they aren’t who we are.
Sometimes dreams can lead us to make some very unsavory choices. We may cut corners or end up stepping on a few folks to get to where we want to be.
Dreams, many times, come from wants and desires.
But when you follow your heart, your dreams come from a different place inside of us. That place inside of us is who we are at our core. When we are true to our core, our dreams are all about what’s most important to us,.
These dreams are more than wonderful. They arespectacular,joyful, and trueto what and all about us. These dreams emerge from our authenticity.
When our true self ignites a dream, it can never be misguided.
“It is simple. By following your heart, you will find your fortune. Your dream matters not, as many dreams are driven by something other than one’s heart.”
“Oh, I see,” Elias said with no real conviction as he only heard half her message. Knowing he did not hear the truth in her words, she knew he would have to learn this on his own.
Nattymama speaking with Elias
The Amulet: Journey to Sirok, E.G. Kardos
Why is it difficult to follow your heart or live your truth?
It’s true –we’ve got to learn this all on our own, but this is why I think we tend to shy away from doing so for three reasons:
Society—this is a big one. It’s not just parents or our family who may steer you away from being true to yourself, but society as a whole. We may experience peer pressure, what is deemed “acceptable” to a group, what others claim as “normal” or “fitting in” and it may be difficult to muster the courage to be authentic.
Fear is often internal, but anxieties mount as we think about following our own path. Will we lose friends? Or will we be successful? How about, will we be happy? What does my future look like? If I’m successful, I have a whole set of new situations to address and am I ready for that?.
Guilt—if we follow our heart, are we taking something away from someone else? Are we disappointing someone else by being true to ourselves? Maybe we begin to spend more time away from those who unintentionally pull us down. Or should we devote more time elsewhere and just give in and live a life the way that others think is best for us?
There are many questions to consider.
Social conditioning, fear, and guilt are strong forces to overcome. Sometimes, however, we hide our truth from others or even from ourselves. This is why it takes courage, a personal commitment, and a lot of time to make this journey.
Fiction and Our Journey
This is why I believe reading fiction should be part of our journey. Why? I remind myself that as a writer, the best prose written comes from “our truth”. The best fiction authors dig down to there core and find their “truth” and share it with the world.
We as readers benefit as the moments about which they write are full of color, emotion, and are real. We are there. The story is very human as we meet multi-dimensional characters. They are characters that could be you and me. That’s why the moment we read becomes our moment as if the book was written only for us.
Fiction gives us an opportunity to see other perspectives and helps us to interpret our own path. I see a real connection. Do you?
Not There Yet
I do my best to live my truth, but I’m not there yet, but it is the path I am on. So these are questions that guide me:
In my own words, what am I like? What makes me who I am?
What do I think about when I’m alone? What’s important to me?
What is most important to me even if I don’t show it?
What brings me joy?
Lastly, what’s my definition of me?
These questions have nothing to do with how others perceive me—or you. When we commit to a life we know that deep down makes us who we are, living our truth comes naturally. We’re not always able to do this as we live in an overly complex world and one that may not always be open to what our humanity offers.
Think about it, humans decide what other humans should be. This is just deplorable. We have one chance at our lives and it isn’t for others to dictate who we are.
When we follow our hearts and live our truth, we are overcome by joy, and we live a more inspired life. Like I said, I’m working on it. That’s okay because recognizing this and moving forward the best I can is the only way.
Here’s a related post about being true to yourself.
What do you think?
About E.G. Kardos
I am a fiction writer and the author of five books. My writing draws inspiration from the beauty surrounding us all—both in nature and in each other. Spirituality, friendship, love, and our connection to the universe inspire me to write. Here’s more about me and my books.
The Hero’s Journey Monomyth is a story structure where the main character, or the hero, reluctantly goes on an adventure from an “ordinary” or everyday world to a “special” or different world.
“The journey of the hero is about the courage to seek the depths; the image of creative rebirth; the eternal cycle of change within us; the uncanny discovery that the seeker is the mystery which the seeker seeks to know. The hero journey is a symbol that binds, in the
original sense of the word, two distant ideas, the spiritual quest of the ancients with the modern search for identity, always the one, shape-shifting yet marvelously constant story that we find.”
― Joseph Campbell, The Hero’s Journey: Joseph Campbell on His Life and Work.
The hero must overcome challenges and if successful, they come home a changed person.
There are typically 12 stages of the Hero’s Journey, but they may vary and differ to some degree. Occasionally they are combined. This manner of storytelling is not just good for plot points in a story but an excellent way to develop characters.
It blows my mind that humans have used the Hero’s Journey to tell stories for thousands of years and humans have done this in every corner of the globe. How did humans who lived thousands of miles from each other and who were separated by oceans come up with the exact blueprint to tell a story? Could it be that humans are hardwired to tell stories? It shows that deep down, we all think and feel in similar ways.
The Hero’s Journey Monomyth overlaps cultures simple as that.
Some of the earliest recorded myths, legends, and folklore from cultures around the world, date back a few thousand years which suggests that the monomyth has been a part of oral traditions well before Joseph Campbell coined the word in the twentieth century.
In recent times, books that follow this model include The Alchemist, Jane Eyre, The Fault In Our Stars, The Hobbit, The Lord of the Rings, and The Hunger Games to mention a very few.
The pattern is not only a format for books, myths, or fables, but the Hero’s Journey is a common model for movies. Star Wars is an example as I understand that Jim Lucas spent time with Joseph Campbell to ensure that the films followed the pattern perfectly. Other movies include the Harry Potter movies (and books) as well as Moana and many animated films such as Lion King. Come to think about it, it is more difficult to find movies that don’t use some version of the Hero’s Journey.
The Hero’s Journey Monomyth –Here’s a look at how it works:
These are the most commonly used stages or plot points identified by Joseph Campbell of The Hero’s Journey:
Departure
The Ordinary World
The Call to Adventure
Refusal of the Call
Meeting the Mentor
Initiation
Crossing the Threshold
Tests, Allies, and Enemies
Approach to the Inmost Cave
The Ordeal
Return
The Reward
The Road Back
Resurrection
Return with the Elixir
Here’s my take on each of the stages of the Hero’s Journey:
DEPARTURE
Ordinary World: One way to look at this stage is ordinary people doing ordinary things in an ordinary life. The “hero” really isn’t a hero just yet but then something falls into their lap—that’s coming up soon, but first, we need to get to know our soon-to-be hero. Sometimes we find out that they are a lot like we are and the more we relate, the better.
Call to Adventure: As our character goes about their daily business they receive some sort of message, or they stumble onto something, or they find themselves being called to do something unusual. All of sudden things are getting more exciting as the character struggles to make sense of the change they are experiencing. The reader is being pulled in too.
Refusal of the Call: In my mind, this is more of how the character reacts to being thrust into a new and scary situation. At this point, the character is reluctant to go further. Many times the character makes excuses for why they need to put blinders on and continue to go about their own business. Don’t we do this when confronted with the unexpected?
Meeting the Mentor: Business as usual, however, has gotten very complicated for the hero, so they seek out a wise and experienced person for help. They may be a professor, their grandma, or the low achieving high IQ friend. Whoever it is, the mentor gives our character what they need to respond to the “call” with some confidence. Many times we may hear the mentor simply say something like, “Go for it, what do you have to lose?” I usually need to run things by someone I think is smarter and wiser than me.
INITIATION
Crossing the Threshold: After some preparation, the hero is ready to go and step into a different world. Many times this is an enchanted world, like when Harry Potter and Ron Weasley run their trolleys into the brick pillar to get aboard the train headed for Hogwarts.
The hero doesn’t have to be headed to an enchanted world as it could be any major life change for instance something that prompts them to move from the city to the country, the first day at Boot Camp or being “discovered” by a Hollywood agent—that would be pretty cool. The world they are about to enter is far and away different from what they are used to.
Tests, Allies, and Enemies: The hero finds out pretty quickly who their friends and allies as is the hero is tested along the way. These are not life and death tests, but they can be grueling events giving the hero some pause and regret that they chose to answer the call. Think about the last time you second-guessed a big decision.
Approach to the Inmost Cave: As the hero gets closer to the most dangerous part of the journey, true and loyal friendships are solidified. The hero knows who to trust as they approach the uncertainty of their calling. Many times, however, the hero is on their own but knows their allies have their back. Now that’s a good feeling.
The Ordeal: This isthe part of the story that we often think is the climax, but it’s not the “real” climax after all. Our hero has much more to do—and prove later in the story. The hero may confront a life-or-death situation, or they may be facing the greatest fear they had in the ordinary and now it appears in this new or special world. They might come face to face with the hideous power that has stalked them throughout the journey. This “hideous power “can be found in other characters as well. It can be found in situations or events too in both real and symbolic ways.
As the hero goes toe to toe with the villain, they find out that they are not exactly ready to take on this evil force. This challenge is like no other and the hero plummets to their lowest ebb. Their spirit is broken. Don’t worry, it’s not the end—it’s upward and onward and the hero finds a way to mend their broken spirit. By doing so, our hero is reborn, but that’s coming up.
RETURN
The Reward: The hero now finds that missing piece that could have made the difference earlier in the story when they were crushed by their nemesis. How do they find it? The hero is somehow rewarded with information, a special weapon, or something they previously overlooked—this reward or the “missing piece” will propel them to victory.
The reward is not something new to the story, but it has something to do with the story. It could be knowledge, profound insight, a powerful gem, a book, or another object that will be needed as they confront their enemy one more time before heading back to the ordinary world.
With the reward, they are now ready to conquer the dark force that had stripped them of their power during the Ordeal. This is the hero’s rebirth and is key as this transforms the hero into a better version of themselves and ready for anything that comes their way.
The Road Back: The hero must, once more, approach the Inmost Cave—the most dangerous part of the journey—to face the villain. This time, however, our hero has all they need to accomplish the call. The hero defeats their archenemy and holds in their hand the elusive treasure. Again, this can be something physical like the Holy Grail, or it can be the treasure that the hero has internalized—a superpower, or maybe even knowledge that will create world peace.
Resurrection: When the hero is victorious they are symbolically reborn and at that moment the hero emerges transformed. At this point, the hero journeys home to their ordinary world with their treasure. The Resurrection represents the ultimate transformation of the hero both physically and spiritually.
Return with the Elixir: Joseph Campbell termed the treasure as the “elixir” where the hero shares his bounty with his ordinary world. They return home but life is now different—it’s better and the hero has been forever changed.
Whether fiction imitates life or life imitates fiction, I am convinced that we are all seeking the meaning of our own lives. In the stories that were told thousands of years ago or written yesterday, we are trying to make sense of who we are to our core, where we belong in the world, and if our lives make some kind of difference. The hero’s journey is a spiritual quest and our search for identity.
I love this quote as it sums it up…
“A hero ventures forth from the world of common day into a region of supernatural wonder. Fabulous forces are there encountered, and a decisive victory is won.” Joseph Campbell
As you read your next book or watch your next movie, think of this pattern. Not all stories have each plot point outlined above. Some may be combined, but generally, the stories we love, follow this pattern.
About E.G. Kardos
I am a fiction writer and the author of five books. My writing draws inspiration from the beauty surrounding us all—both in nature and in each other. Spirituality, friendship, love, and our connection to the universe inspire me to write. Here’s more about me and my books.
I attended an all-boys Catholic prep school in the 1970s. At that time, most of our teachers were monks who dedicated their lives to the Order of Saint Benedict. They were mostly older, stern men in black robes. Even though some taught Latin, “seizing the day” was not always top of mind.
Most were very good teachers. However, looking back I’d have to say the teacher who inspired me the most happened not to be a member of the monastic order. He happened to be one of the few laymen who taught us—Mr. Storino.
Our Introduction
It was the end of August and marked the beginning of my sophomore year in 1975 when twenty-five of us, or so, filed into Mr. Storino’s English Literature class. He sat at his desk, nose down reading a thick tome.
His classroom was on the second or third floor of a century-old building and as we learned in science class, heat rises—it was hot. There was no air conditioning. The large windows were raised as high as they would go letting in a periodic breeze here and there.
Moments passed and we continued to sit quietly as we heard classical music coming from an old record player. We didn’t dare say a word.
Colorful Posters
His classroom felt alive and there was an energy–a vibe. It was unlike all other rooms in that old building. The other teachers were “old school” and probably didn’t see the value in creating a cool learning environment. Their classrooms were barren besides the occasional cracks in the plaster or a crucifix. But, Mr. Storino’s walls were adorned with colorful posters of Impressionism or Abstract art among many other provocative wall hangings. Against the walls were bookcases that overflowed with all kinds of books. Sitting in my seat, I looked around the room and all I could do was smile.
Letting the Words Take Us– Seizing the Day
More than a decade before Robin Williams gave life to Mr. Keating in the movie Dead Poets Society, Mr. Storino was all about seizing the day—carpe diem. He wanted us to grab hold of the words of a story and let them take us somewhere other than that old classroom in that hot archaic building.
For those of us who took advantage of his enthusiasm, and I did, we became equipped to appreciate the required tenth-grade literature with open eyes.
His assignments made us think—and feel. Mr. Storino wanted more from us than what most fifteen-year-olds typically wanted to give in class—being vulnerable wasn’t in a teen boys’ lexicon.
He talked with us, not at us. He wanted my thoughts on whatI read? Really?
Not until many years later, did I realize just how much he awakened me to literature. He inspired me in so many ways, and I am thankful to have had the opportunity to learn from him. At that time I began to realize it is okay to like, or maybe even love, literature and to seek it out.I looked forward to his class where we could discuss The Metamorphosis, Brave New World, Catcher in the Rye, or… the list goes on.
Time Presses On
That was fifty years ago—wow! After that year, Mr. Storino took a position at a local public school, and I have not seen him since. Recently, I learned that he had a long teaching career and was heralded as one of the finest English teachers in his district.
Learning that about him made me feel even more fortunate.
When my novel, Cutting of Harp Strings, was published a friend helped me to locate him. As if I were fifteen again, I was a bit shy asking him to read it, but he was delighted and read it at once.
Since my best grade on any of my compositions in his class was a B+ (but mostly C+s if I’m honest), I was worried about how he would evaluate my latest work. However, I was pleasantly surprised—more like elated—bythe “grade” and review he gave the book on Amazon.
Teachers have so much to give. They have an awesome power and he played a major part in my love for reading and writing fiction.
He is a true inspiration.
Thanks, Mr. Storino!
Who influenced you the most?
About E.G. Kardos
I am a fiction writer and the author of five books. My writing draws inspiration from the beauty surrounding us all—both in nature and in each other. Spirituality, friendship, love, and our connection to the universe inspire me to write. Here’s more about me and my books.
Paulo Coelho wrote The Alchemist and published it through a small Brazilian publishing house in 1988. The initial print run produced only 900 copies. Few copies were sold, and Coelho went on to find a larger publisher. The book took off due to word of mouth and Coelho’s innovative approach to marketing. I don’t know the specifics, but in a short time, the world wanted to read the book. It is, indeed a story of magic in a simple message.
Since he and his book were gaining momentum, HarperCollins became interested in the book and struck a deal with Coelho. They decided to publish the book in 1994. Soon thereafter, it became a global phenomenon and an international bestseller. By some estimates, it has sold nearly 250 million copies and is among the top books ever sold. Incredible!
What’s it About?
The Alchemist is a fantasy and adventure quest. Some think of it as a myth or fable. Santiago, a young shepherd boy living in the hills of Andalucia, Spain travels the world for his treasure. He travels to Egypt and encounters the old alchemist. His adventure and specifically what and who Santiago encounters along the way allows him and the reader to grow. We learn the wisdom of listening to our hearts, learning from the omens along our way, about our own “personal legend” and following our dreams.
If only all of us could listen to the wisdom of our hearts…we may find that our dreams are not so elusive.
Masked in Magic
Coelho’s simplicity of storytelling inspires the reader to search for the wisdom that will lessen the burden of the complexities of life and potentially make our lives a masterpiece. This is why I think the book has found reader after reader for thirty-six years. Coelho’s “truth” gives the story life.
We all aspire to something greater …
Santiago’s quest is masked in magic and fantasy but is very much like our daily journey. Coelho uses the format of the “Hero’s Journey” to tell a story that resonates with our human spirit. We all aspire to something greater in our lives, but we may have difficulty getting there. Instead of only envisioning the end, like Santiago we should continue to keep an eye on the road as well. If we do, we may see the potholes or help someone who may need a lift along the way. There are times that we all need that lift… or get the nudge to take that next step.
The reason this book rose from humble beginnings is not only because of Coelho’s persistence to create awareness of his work but also because of the magic in a simple message. It is soul-searching and beautiful.
Have you read The Alchemist? Thoughts? What other books contain magic in a simple message that is meaningful to you?
“A Journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step.”
–Chinese proverb.
About E.G. KardosI
am a fiction writer and the author of five books. My writing draws inspiration from the beauty surrounding us all—both in nature and in each other. Spirituality, friendship, love, and our connection to the universe inspire me to write. Here’s more about me and my books.
My solitary path that I journeyed to reach “Cutting of Harp Strings” (2021) began in late 1994. One word led to another and after many rewrites over many years, the story became real. I could touch it, see it, hear it, smell it, and feel it.
This story celebrates life and its many paradoxical but inseparable forces in our universe – some may call it the yin and yang. We all experience such forces both outwardly and inwardly. It’s unimaginable to think of life without this duality,
but life as we now know it would cease to exist. such duality, we learn about ourselves and attempt to find meaning. I’m not the first to say this, but we are perhaps more interested in the meaning of our life than the meaning of life. I must agree with Socrates as he said, “The unexamined life is not worth living”. We are reflective by nature but we, many times, overlook or are unwilling to find meaning from our introspection. Just look at history and how we, humankind, seldom heed its message.
“Know Thyself”
Also attributed to Socrates is the phrase, “Know thyself.” If we are willing to peel back the layers that humanity has heaped upon each of us, we may actually like—and love—who we are. It is up to us, one by one, to dig deep within our core to find a beauty we all possess. The core is always where answers live as they are seldom floating like a flower petal upon the surface of a pond. It takes reaching our hand below the murky surface to find what is truly there.
“Cutting of Harp Strings” celebrates, most of all, our relationships with those who matter most to us. We yearn for acceptance, affirmation, and intimacy. There is no one right path to find this in our lives. There are, however, inevitable detours along the path that impede our progress. Such detours, like denial, trick us and point us in different directions. We may have little or no clue of how we managed to be deceived—but it happens. Sometimes we are misled, urged to fit in, or discouraged from asking questions for any number of reasons. Some of us find the answers but continue down a misguided path. Could it be because we’re humans? Just a thought.
Our existence is about the many extraordinary connections we all experience. Those connections sometimes come in the form of shared moments. Like words, moments when collected and strung together, tell the tale of our lives. Our reality is made up of more than the big moments but made up of those intimate, fun, quiet, scary, insightful, quirky, bizarre, and mystical moments as well. If you are like most, you have experienced such moments.
Starting With that First Word
When I wrote the first sentence of this story, I had no idea what kind of journey I was on, but once in motion, there was no turning back. Eli, Aiden, and others told me who they were and where they were headed even though they were not sure themselves—such is life. I learned so much from their adventure as they invited me in. Writers don’t know the answers, but they do ask the questions.
Writers don’t know the answers, but they do ask the questions.
When I wrote the first pages, I was someone else. I concentrated on the “rules of the road” and what was “supposed to be” in every novel. Life isn’t like that, and neither is this story. What I came to realize was that this journey is far more important to tell today than when I typed the first letter many years ago… no “spoilers” here as you will have to read it to find out.
What I Learned
As I wrote this story, what I learned most of all is that humanity is all about belief systems and ideologies, and because of this, humanity creates its own reality. If you will, our world is all imagined even though the sun shines, the waves of the oceans slap the shore, and the lightning strikes at will. However, life as far as I can tell is all about what goes on in our hearts. It’s how we feel about and engage with each other, our world, and our creator. More importantly, we shape our life as it springs from how we feel about the one person for whom we should love first, no matter what—ourselves.
Why do you read? Or write? What does it mean to you?
About E.G. Kardos
I am a fiction writer and the author of five books. My writing draws inspiration from the beauty surrounding us all—both in nature and in each other. Spirituality, friendship, love, and our connection to the universe inspire me to write. Here’s more about me and my books.
