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Love in the Time of Climate Change

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We're living in some seriously dark times. Yet all around us ~ and inside us ~ the generous, green spark of life continues to bring forth new discoveries, new pleasures, new opportunities to dance our way into what Fleur Robins likes to call further incarnations of ourselves. 
In the midst of the godawful events of 1939, Bertolt Brecht wrote in this motto to his Svendborg Poems

In the dark times         Will there be singing?                     Yes, there will also be singing        About the dark times.  Similarly, early alchemists expressed the unquenchable spirit of life as "a blessed greenness," a divine energy in all things that can persist in even our darkest moments, an embodied manifestation of what Mylius described as "a virtue of generation and the preservation of things (that) might be called the Soul of the World." (C.G. Jung, Mysterium Coniunctionis). 

But, as Fleur's Nana might put it (with no little impatience), "What's all that when it&…

Songs of Root and Sky

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I'm a city girl. For most of my life, I've lived in SoCal, with a brief stint in Berkeley as a young teen. My family moved around a lot, but the closest we got to anything resembling raw nature was in my earliest years, when we lived just a few blocks from the Pacific Ocean in the smallish city of Hermosa Beach. In the summers, as my shoulders darkened to a deep brown, and my young feet and fingers dug happily into warm sand, I was lulled by the lavish roar of ocean waves. But it wasn't until I turned fifteen that I paid much attention to birds.
I've written previously on this blog about my appreciation for crows, those intellectual giants of the avian world, as well as my sorrow over one particular member of that species, Mr. Crow, whose plight elicited the communal action and angst of my little neighborhood, sandwiched between a couple of L.A.'s busiest thoroughfares. But if I have to be honest, mockingbirds have always been my favorite birds.

In the summer my f…

Fleur's Back - in Tizita, Book Two of The Fleur Trilogy!

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Fleur Robins burst into my life like a firecracker, excitedly skipping ahead of me, tugging me into realms I barely knew existed and stretching my mind as impossibly as childbirth once stretched my body. Writers are often encouraged to write about what we know, but my grasp of quantum physics was basically nil until Fleur's terror of the void and her insatiable curiosity led me to pore over obscure physics journals and daunting mathematical equations like the proverbial mad scientist - in my own case, an admittedly limited version of the real deal. I became captive to this young girls' odd-duckish sort of mind as she sought in her uniquely associative fashion to escape the "whirling pit of everlasting emptiness," first encountered on her abusive father's Main Line estate. Who else but Fleur would attempt to resurrect a beloved grandfather by plumping his suited crotch with water as he lay in his casket? Or repair a ruptured relationship with her best friend Sammi…