Words of the Times

We walk in the world
with steps faltering and learning
off balance more than not
while muscles learn and grow…

Time favors stepping out
and hopping, running, skipping.
dancing to musics heard
both within, without…

Days and years pass
with steps certain, confident
ambling through a life
but not in charge…

Until the sudden day
when all around the world shifts
gravity goes sideways
streams flow up,

Intents, designs
our plans all fall awry
certainties dissolve
fears rise, tears fall

Steps falter, once again
illusion of control 
goes out of reach,
we again are children

We again are children
in something greater’s world,
our only recourse
once again is faith.

Something Old, Something New…

Years ago I started writing a bio for a Live Action Role Play–a vampires game–and it got kinda out of hand.

It grew to a point, then someone joined me to develop and write it further, and it grew by leaps and bounds… But that erstwhile partner left the project, just before I took it to a huge writer’s conference where I got some professional feedback for it–and some legal advice about any obligations to the previous partner.

I went through more revision phases with it, but after a time, being alone in the room with it, I set it aside, let it migrate into the shadows at the back of the closet.

Some weeks ago I pulled it out of the dark, and submitted a few pages to an event at another conference where it got some more, some fresh feedback, and suddenly, I got interested in it again. From there to this:

https://www.patreon.com/clredding

It isn’t just about serializing a novel, it is also now a project in the evolution of a novel on its road to mainstream publication, set up for others to participate, if they like. It will be like tackling the mountain together.

So, please give the link a click and check it out… Consider it not a request, but an invitation to an adventure!

People Are Planets…

…that do sometimes collide.
We explore those planets
when we go inside
another person’s thought and feeling,
discover what
the silver atmosphere’s concealing:
Different laws of nature may apply
to different creatures under different sky.

A world may be hostile
to our hearts, our breath…
May lead us far astray
into confusions and delusions,
even into death.

Yet some planets do
attract us by the soul,
and so connect us,
thus between us, we are whole:
Sashaying
through the cosmos twirling,
side by side,
sharing sun and stars above,
meeting together
cosmic storm and tide…




CL Redding, 2001

The Madness of Kings

Every empire in the world has had its mad, its vicious, its authoritarian tyrants. 

Every age has had its times of social disaster, every culture its times of unbearable sufferings, of loss, of futility, of destruction by conquest from without or incompetence from within. Every Empire has had its own karmic debt, owing to bad policies, indulgences, and unsustainable practices. Insistance on clinging to solutions that have become problems… Allowing a dominant belief system such as a religion to dictate law… Exercising power for the top of the social pyramid without regard for the lower levels that support the apex…

Is this the story we are living in the US? Not just the US, either–there has been a rise of authoritarianism across the world in the past several years. When they have packed the courts and corrupted the justice system, when they have sown distrust in journalists and rewritten historic truth to suit their purposes, have exhausted resistance, they have won. At least until they die.

Most of the long-established Constitutional checks and balances written into the US Constitution have been diminished under this and other administrations since Nixon. In the current administration, the distinction between truth and falsehood has been gaslighted out of the trusting and hopeful; both religion and outlaw fringe organizations have been co-opted to support the new “truths” and intimidate reason and morality–though in both cases, there is some question who is using whom.  Education, science, and honest journalism have been disparaged and villainized. 

The next step is terror applied not just to one powerless minority but to everyone not in the ruling clique. It starts with putting immigrant children in concentration camps, moves through other minorities and groups that disagree and resist, and finally comes to everyone else.

Authoritarian empires never last. They are built on one person’s mad fantasy of shaping all the world, and when that person dies, whatever charisma and imperatives drove the fantasy goes, too. No one who follows is quite demented enough or extreme enough… and is, anyway, a follower, not a leader.

Besides, in the end, there are more of us than of them. The Dear Demented has one lifetime, while the People go on and on, many lives, many lifetimes. The Resistance ultimately wins: no matter how beaten down, its roots are as deep as life itself, and whether by underground tactics or full scale revolution, it ultimately wins.

The pendulum swings, partly because that’s nature, and partly because we refuse to learn from history.


Love’s Not Always Pink

Love’s not always pink–
It’s what you feel and live
not what you think.

Sometimes it’s what you give
or are allowed to take
or nothing you can have
for someone else’s sake.

Love’s not always song–
its voice not always heard
or clear and strong.

Sometimes it’s just absurd
and makes no kind of sense
Or it speaks without a word,
has neither rhyme nor tense.

Love’s not always glee–
It has its moods and swings
and fails to see.

Sometimes imaginings
turn into fear and doubt
or expectation clings
to aims that can’t play out.

Love’s not always true–
a permanent romance
to nourish you.

Sometimes it is mischance
or timing’s never right
or only fine in sunshine
or only in the night.

Love’s not always whole
but without its tricks
neither is the soul.

2009

Shadows

…shifting, drifting airs with faces
and imaginary graces
but never firming to the touch…
Are you a shadow?
Am I?
Would you have me real?
Or I, you?

Shadows cast no pain, no joy.
Their suffering is not real,
their fading glamor,
passing clamor,
not much to be wondered at.
They neither harm nor charm,
passing through one another
with no consequence of caring
or of sharing.
Each shade real only to itself
plays out its game
with shadow pieces;
itself is played,
mislaid,
and never knows.

There is in Reality much joy
to be won or to be lost.
I would not play Reality
with just anyone.


1981

Tolkien Tribute: The Bells of Dale

’Twas spring again in the Northern Lands
and larks sang bright and clear,
yet sorrow lay on the folk of Dale
and little they knew of cheer.

The daughter of Girion, Lord of Dale,
lay sad under winter’s gloom–
Like enough, all said, ere long,
she’d lie winter-cold in her tomb.

In deep despond young Giriel  lay
and nothing could stir her will
for winter storms had frozen her heart:
the winds howled in her hearing, still.

The spring song of larks rose over the world
but for Giriel winter still stormed;
Dark was her heart in the springtime sun
and her cold limbs could not be warmed.


The Lord of Dale Girion, in his distress,
sent far and wide through the lands
for anyone who might break the spell,
and bring warmth to his daughter’s hands.

Many came and their offerings made
to coax the lass back to joy–
Bright flowering trees and instruments sweet
and many an intricate toy…

Fanciful foods in fantastical shapes,
and acrobats dancing on air!
Exotic creatures from countries afar
did nothing to ease her despair.

Dweekin the Dwarf, one of Durin’s Kin,
was a shy and diligent lad
who spent his days in a long night of his own
and being blind, many thought him sad.

But Dweekin smiled to hear hammers ring
and the sound of it in his ears
soothed all care and sorrow from him
and lightened his heaviest fears.

So Dweekin delved in the Mountain’s heart
for a rich red, blood-scented ore
and founded and forged and worked what he dug
then carried his gift to her door.


A bell it was, and so wondrous wrought
at its first tone, it raised a sigh
from all who heard, yes, even the lass–
The next note brought a tear to her eye…

The third time rung, the bell sang so sweet
that hearts throughout Dale lifted high…
The fourth note sang out so pure and true,
Giriel rose with a gladsome cry!

The fifth note pealed through village and vale
and shattered the winter’s ice-bands
from Giriel’s heart, and she laughed for joy,
and the spring’s warmth flowed into her hands…

The sound of her laughter joined with the notes
that from Dweekin’s bell rang forth!
Then Girion summoned all healers and wise
to come with their craft to the North.

And at the fest of next Midsummer’s Eve
Dweekin stood under clear blue skies
and for the first time in all of his days
gazed at it with clear-seeing eyes.

Girion lord of Dale in that time
And the King Under Erebor
made vows of union between Men and Dwarves
to join them forever more.

Bells still ring out sweetly upon the air
between Dale and the Mountain, a-sealing
that bond of loyalty, trust and faith,
in every knell they are pealing.

Neither war nor foe nor cause nor plaint
may divide these friends, nor confound
as long as the Dwarf-wrought Bells of Dale
ring out their joyful sound!

This tale fits in with the lore of Dale, which include mention of their wonderful bells, and the Dwarves of Erebor, their naighbors. But the story this tells, and Giriel and Dweekin, are my own, created for a poetry contest on the theme of the friendship between the Men of Dale and the Dwarves Under the Mountain.

The Learning Puzzle

Imagine if kids loved learning… Imagine if we had loved learning. Consider how the educational system we grew up under has relied on long-obsolete notions and assumptions of the nature of children, how they learn, that they, by nature, resist learning.

What they resist is the system, not the learning. But association kills the love of knowing new things, and costs students the great feelings of accomplishment and empowerment, the exhiliration of that AH-HA! moment when a new thing suddenly clicks.

The world we come into, it’s like a big jigsaw puzzle with no outer edge or certain shape. Education helps us put the pieces together. And there is no picture on the box, there isn’t even a box. The more pieces we can acquire, the more of the big picture we can assemble; the fewer pieces, we have so much less ability to comprehend even the smaller bits, to understand how they all fit into the one.

Students need teachers to show them how to work the puzzle, how to distinguish the pieces that really fit from the ones that only almost fit, but really don’t. Teachers can show them how to organize the pieces to focus on one area or another, and put aside pieces that don’t actually fit or match the colors, textures and shapes they are working on.  Students need clues, they need glimpses of the whole, or parts of the whole as they work, and teachers can give them this, too.

But a good teacher won’t tell the student what to see, or put the pieces together for them. Maybe one, a last or connecting piece, once in a while, to let the student experience that Ah-Ha! moment that melts doubt and frustration away and makes the learning process worth the work. 

Good educators, whether they are professional teachers, or parents, or others who have the care of children, always, always let the child be a child. They let the person be the person that they are, challenging not their essence, but their comfort zones.  

This is true also for how each of us learns on our own, how we educate and grow and empower our own inner child.