MORE POartRY and PROSE - an excerpt
PAGE 110 - 111
MORE POartRY and PROSE - an excerpt
PAGE 110 - 111
POartRY and PROSE - an excerpt
PAGE 19 - 20
I know very little about these elephants. While visiting Thailand many years ago, I was given the chance to ride upon an elephant's back. Today I regret that I did not accept the opportunity.
But there is one elephant I do know a little about and that is 'the elephant in the living room'. I did not spend years working as a psychospiritual practitioner without raising my awareness of this creature. I knew that it most often carried the obvious major issue that clients avoided discussing, or even acknowledging.
THE ELEPHANT IN THE LIVING ROOM
He is sitting on the coffee table
Of that, we're all aware.
Still, we will talk around him
As though he isn't there.
We may discuss his tail,
A small and minor detail.
While obvious major issues
Escape admission without fail.
"We can't get beyond what we've never been in."
PAGE 134
Canadian seniors are the quiet majority. At this time of writing members of the C.U.P.E. union are on strike. They state that $38,000.00 annual income is just not enough to cover the high cost of living. What wouldn't a senior waiting for his pension cheque do to receive such an income? If he is fortunate, he may be receiving half that amount. Many seniors are receiving less than half that amount.
Why aren't seniors more vocal? Why aren't seniors out there on a picket line, signs raised in frustration? Why are they quiet about their ever-growing financial concerns?
I don't have the answers to these questions.
I do know that for too many senior citizens the wait for the mail carrier, or the bank deposit, is a long one and, for some, a hungry one. This is something that is in need of change.
"Positive identity is crucial to human existence. Each of us needs to have a sense of who we are and a sense of what makes us valuable." Having to scrounge enough money to get through and cover expenses each and every month rips away at a senior's self-worth. We all need both self-knowledge and self-regard.
Financial insecurity is not only frightening. It is also demeaning. Our Canadian seniors deserve better. ......................
Page 28
Weary woman worries when
the door is shut
on hope that drowns
in white envelopes
piling up on table
demanding payment, satisfaction,
threatening to kill
the little faith
that barely floats above the stack.
POartRY and PROSE is available in both Kindle and Paperback formats on all Amazon sites. You will find it in my Amazon Author's page at https:amazon.com/author/audreyaustin
MY THREE BOOKS FOR CHILDREN - Excerpts
THE LAST DROP Page 23 - 26
Please, Mommy, let us play
out in the yard
Being stuck indoors all day
is really quite hard.
Quiet down children,
the rain will soon stop
You can venture outdoors
once we hear the last drop.
Restless, unhappy
the two children yawned
They want to sail
Bobby's boat in the pond.
Suddenly, Alison
thinks of a plan
Bobby is excited
Yes, I'm sure we can ...............
SHH! We Don't Talk About That! - an excerpt
PAGE 60 - 62
A very long time ago an acquaintance introduced me to a Chinese text called the I Ching which talks about the relationship between an individual and the cosmos. The I Ching asserts that somehow my inner being is participating in the exterior world.
For example, I choose to watch a random movie on Netflix, one I know nothing about, yet discover that the characters in the movie are experiencing or questioning those things which are mine to deal with. I experience a sort of revelation.
These days our world has become too scientific and logical to consider revelations or, in other words, messages from the divine. But, as for me, I am open to these messages, and I am grateful when I receive them. I believe there is wisdom in synchronicity. I don't believe these kinds of happenings are 'mere coincidence'.
It's not to say that I don't believe in coincidence because I do, but when certain coincidences are repetitive or when they speak to my heart, or when I awaken from a dream with the answer to a question that has been with me for some time, I say this is not coincidence. To me, this is synchronicity.
Carl Jung has been quoted as saying that dreams are God's forgotten language. I don't question his wisdom and I do pay attention to my dreams, particularly those that are repetitive. I believe there are many kinds of dreams. Some are just a rehash of what is going on in my life with, perhaps, the message that it is time to slow down or to simplify. Some dreams are very helpful.
As I mentioned I often wake up with the answer to a question; an answer that has been evading me. Sometimes dreams, particularly repetitive dreams, are prophetic.
I trust my dreams. I do believe they exist to help me from day to day in my very ordinary life here on earth. I will talk more about dreams.
I share a quote from a Google search. "Carl Jung saw dreams as the psyche's attempt to communicate important things to the individual, and he valued them highly, perhaps above all else, as a way of knowing what was really going on. Dreams are also an important part of the development of the personality - a process that he called individuation."
I would like to share a couple of dreams with you that have, indeed, formed an important part of the development of my personality....................
SHH! We Don't Talk About That! is available in both Kindle and Paperback formats on all Amazon sites. You will find it in my Amazon Author's page at https://amazon.com/author/audreyaustin
STRUGGLE - To Reach the Bridge of Light - an excerpt
Page 317 - 319
"Oh, look! Do you see it?" she shouted.
Maria's six companions were dumbfounded. They could see the old boat as it rested, waiting peacefully, on the water just as it had been doing for many long, patient years.
"Good grief! We've traveled all this way to come to this old wreck?" Bernard sneered, unable to hide his disappointment. "How is this possible?"
"I see the old boat now! Do you all see it?" Maria exclaimed. "It looks exactly as I saw it in my dreams."
Their footsteps on the bridge that extended itself above and across the Caribbean Sea were more confident now. They had not the slightest fear, even as their feet stepped onto nothingness above the water. Their trust was immeasurable. Their faith assured them that the bridge would extend to receive their steps. They trod the bridge of light across the waters and, one by one, they boarded the old brown boat.
Upon the deck of the aged, corroded vessel, the seven huddled together. "I've done my fair share of boating and fishing as a boy in Elliot Lake," Bernard declared. "I can tell you we are not going to get far in this rust bucket. To borrow from my Buddhist reading, 'Three things cannot be long hidden: the sun, the moon, and the truth.' When I say this old boat won't sail far, trust me, that is the truth."
"It seems very odd to me," Connie said, in her no-nonsense tone of voice, "that we have walked across the world, and now across this sea, in a most magical manner upon the bridges of light only to end up on an ancient brown boat that looks as though it hasn't been sea-worthy since Columbus."
"I agree, Connie," John responded. "A Maori canoe would get me further than this old boat could. To say that the situation we find ourselves in is odd is putting it mildly."
Boom! The peace, the quiet of the old brown boat was shattered by a menacing sound like the cacophonic rumbling of a giant's stomach. Boom! Boom! They covered their ears to protect themselves from the bellowing roar of the explosion.
"Oh, my God," Carley shouted. "The Quill is erupting!"
STRUGGLE - To Reach the Bridge of Light is available in both Kindle and Paperback formats on all Amazon sites. You will find it on my Amazon Author's page at https://amazon.com/author/audreyaustin
THE OBSERVER - His Eye is on the Sparrow - an excerpt
Page 253 - 256
"I feel overwhelmed, Aarav," I say as I look around me at the dreadful slum conditions.
"I'm not surprised, Karen. I told you in Canada that this cultural shock may be too much for you. Do you want to return to your apartment?"
I want to say yes, please get me out of here, but down deep within my soul, I hear my grandmother, Karina say, "What you are seeking is seeking you."
I look into Aarav's eyes and say, "I am here for a reason, Aarav. I'm in. This is where I need to be."
"That's my girl!" he exclaims. Then taking my arm, he says, "Come with me."
We walk through the massive slum, past many people, primarily women and children I notice. "You work here, Aarav?"
"I do, Karen. And it is here I will work with you if you feel strong enough to be here."
Immediately, I'm remembering an old Sunday School verse that I had been forced long ago to memorize. "Do not grieve, for the joy of the Lord is your strength. Do not fear, for I am with you; do not be dismayed for I am your God. I will strengthen you and help you; I will uphold you with my righteous right hand. The Lord is my strength and my song."
"I am strong enough, Aarav," I reply. And I am.
After a short walk, along a rough, uneven pathway, we arrive at a small, neat, wooden building. Aarav opens the door. With him, I walk inside. I see a bare, scrubbed clean wooden floor; three wooden, clean but cluttered desks; and some file cabinets.
"I told you, Karen, that I have my degree in accounting."
"Yes, you did. But why are you mentioning this to me now, Aarav?"
"It's important that you know and understand me, Karen. Here in the Braden Project I work, not only with those in the western world who fundraise to keep this project alive, but also directly with the people here. It's here that I'm given the opportunity to use my gift of healing. I spend time with the people. They come here to this office and I speak with them and do my best to understand all that they are trying to deal with. I come here three days a week. For this work, I receive no salary."
"If you receive no salary, how do you live? How do you support yourself and pay for such a lovely apartment?"
"For the other four days a week, Karen, I work as accountant for my father's law firm. I also work for other business firms as accountant; keeping their books and for this work I'm well remunerated."
"Where do I fit in, Aarav?" I ask.
"Karen, if you feel strong enough to come to this slum five days a week, to work in this office as secretary, but more importantly, as a friend and advisor to the people who reside here, you will receive a secretary's salary; enough to support you in your small Bangalore apartment."
"I see," I say.
"Do you want some time to think it over, Karen?"
"Will you be here to work with me Aarav?"
"Yes, I'll be here but for only three days a week. My work here is volunteer. You will need to be here five days a week which means two days a week you are on your own. There are other volunteers and employees in this slum area but what I mean to say is that for two days a week you will be here on your own in this office. Are you up for it?"
"I hope I am, Aarav. I want to be and there is only one way to find out."
THE OBSERVER - His Eye is on the Sparrow is available in Kindle and Paperback formats on all Amazon sites. You will find it on my author's page at https://amazon.com/author/audreyaustin
NO PLACE TO LAY HER HEAD - a Handful of Moments - an excerpt
PAGE 23 - 24
It was very difficult for me to accept that Brian would not be able to come home again. I continued to visit him in hospital every day. Our family doctor was very loving as she spoke to me. "You will be able to visit him once he is in long-term care," she said. "You will spend quality time together. Try not to feel so sad." But I could not stop crying then even as I cannot stop crying now as I continue to type.
More time passed and it was made clear to me that my Brian would not be able to survive a surgery.
Something inside me died the day I was told that he was now in palliative care. Often I was told to 'prepare' myself.
How does one prepare herself?
PAGE 35 - 37
I put the kettle on to boil and I proceeded to make a pot of tea. As is my habit, after filling the teapot with boiling water, I refilled the kettle with cold water from the tap and set it aside on the stove prepared to heat it up for a second pot of tea if needed.
My dear sister, after drinking some of her tea, wanted to just heat it up a little. Without a word to me, she walked into the kitchen, poured water from the kettle into her cup. On her return to the living-room she had no idea why her tea was so very cold.
And for the first time in weeks, I laughed.
The others had finished their tea and, for my sister, I went back into the kitchen to make another fresh pot. It's like the angels were having fun with me. I brought the teapot into the living-room once again and poured a cup of tea for my sister.
"It's not steeped, Audrey," she said.
"That's odd," I replied. "It should be."
"What kind of tea is this?"
Of course, I had opened the wrong container, chosen the green tea instead of the black. And, of course, my sister does not like green tea.
Yes, I had reached a low point in my life where I could not for the life of me make a decent cup of tea for my visitors.
Page 44
A day arrived when I had an epiphany. There were no more documents to deal with. I was free of the paperwork. There was nothing I needed to do until income tax time rolled around. Then I would need to file Brian's final income tax forms and submit them to government.
Today, which just happens to be January 5th of 2019, I have no clear memory of exactly when anything took place. It has all been one long movie to me. But I do know that the income tax return would have needed to be filed by the end of April 2018. This filing I did. And then I could say it is finished.
I'm grateful that the paperwork part of the journey is over. It was challenging. I think something could be done by the powers that be to lessen the load of those who grieve.
NO PLACE TO LAY HER HEAD - a Handful of Moments is available on all Amazon sites. You will find it on my Amazon author's page at https://amazon.com/author/audreyaustin
Simply BE - an excerpt
Page 87
Some of the words in this book are borrowed from the Holy Bible; a few from Desiderata. Most of the words in this book are my own. But where did I first hear these words? How did I come to choose them as ones I wish to share with you? The answer to these questions is, "I am inspired by memory of my mother, and of my sister. .......... These two women taught me that it is not only possible, it is also necessary, to "simply be" - be who I really am.
Page 89 The most important thing I hope to illustrate is that we don't have to be perfect. We do the best we can with what we have and give thanks.
Page 3 Sometimes we forget that we are born into this world as human beings. We forget because too much of our time is spent as human do'ers.
We do this; we do that; and then we do some more.
Sometimes we become involved in doing so much we forget who we are.
Simply BE is a reminder to all of us that it is possible to be who we really are.
Page 46 - 48
BE HONEST
Be honest.
Always let one hand
know
what the other hand is doing.
Extend a hand to others.
Be open-handed,
Open-minded,
And, by being honest
with yourself,
Keep an open heart.
Be honest
In your business dealings
Know that your steps
are guided
as you climb
the ladder of success.
You won't fall off the ladder
if
each step you take
is an honest one.
Be honest
with your friends
"Speak your truth quietly
and clearly"
knowing that your friends
listen
with loving ears.
Simply BE is available on all Amazon sites in Kindle and Paperback. You will find it on my author's page at https://amazon.com/author/audreyaustin
ALL THEM HOUSES - a memoir - an excerpt
Page 54 - 57
Then I knew that I was obliged to stop telling the flattering white lies that led to my fall in the first place. I learned that there is no security in conditional love. Did this truth set me free? No, indeed! It has gotten me into a whole lot of trouble.
I will talk more about this later. Because when I started dealing with these kinds of truths and white lies, I was no longer living at 32 Ashbury Avenue. No, no, by then I was well past the age of twelve.
I was not old enough to be making a commitment of any kind to anyone of the opposite sex. However, it is, indeed, the truth that at the age of ten, I did have my very first boyfriend.
His name was Augustine Arnone. He, along with his parents, moved into a house just down the street from ours on Ashbury Avenue. I think I was ten years old at the time of our meeting.
Augustine was from Italy. He spoke the Italian language and no English. This didn't seem to hamper our new friendship at all. I taught him how to say a few words in English. More exciting, he taught me how to say naughty words in Italian; the word that stands out in my mind is fungala. I didn't know what the word meant but I did know it was a naughty word, one that I could use around my other friends who didn't know how to understand Italian. This gave me an edge.
I taught Augustine how to roller-skate. Together we would hold hands while we raced down the hill on Glenholme Avenue, remembering to make a sharp left hand turn onto Jesmond Avenue to avoid roller-skating into traffic.
Yes, Augustine was my first boyfriend. But he was, by far, not the last.
My life with my family on Ashbury Avenue was, in most ways, a good life. I will go back to the kitchen with its gas stove and skirted sink, its white, wooden table and its matching white cupboard with the glass doors that held the plates and other dishes.
I remember May 24th weekends with fireworks and fun. I remember one year, in particular, when somehow, by accident, the collection of fireworks all went off at once on the front verandah. What a scare! What beauty! What excitement!
Throughout Canadian winters I remember boots in the back porch, mitts drying by the warm gas oven, and drinking cocoa which had to be made in exactly the correct way with one teaspoon of cocoa, one teaspoon of sugar onto which milk is poured and mixed before the boiling water can be added.
Our city backyard was special to me as a child. It was where Mommy hung the laundry on the clothesline. It was where Daddy planted his vegetable garden. I remember sitting on the ground and eating straight from the earth the carrots, the beans, and the peas. Yes, I survived. Perhaps even the earth was cleaner in those days than today.
Most of all I loved to spend time on the backyard swing.
I was blessed to have such a wonderful, caring, loving mother. She worked so very hard to keep our home clean and organized. I remember her brushing my hair. I remember her slipping the nickel into my hand for the collection plate at Sunday School. I remember her shaking her finger at me and saying, "Be good."
ALL THEM HOUSES - a memoir is found on my Amazon Author's page at https://amazon.com/author/audreyaustin
Or it can be found directly at https://www.amazon.ca/All-Them-Houses-Audrey-Austin/dp/1542874076/ref=sr_1_1?crid=1PDWNWSPH0KO3&dib=eyJ2IjoiMSJ9.z-iqvAgC-hWWF7c_jQrBqYlJWrMheZyhXMQc6P2EDA0.C-VO4Y97f9XcGEt7WZluJEufmtS-Gw_PLeQWtN5xf_8&dib_tag=se&keywords=Audrey+Austin+All+Them+Houses&qid=1769702283&s=books&sprefix=audrey+austin+all+them+houses%2Cstripbooks%2C112&sr=1-1
THE SILENT STAR plus a dozen SELECTIONS - an excerpt
an excerpt from JOSHUA'S JOURNEY - page 37 - 40
"Do you want help with that shirt, Joshua?"
"Lordy, lady! You still here? Don't need no help!"
"Okay, you have a good day. I'm leaving now."
"Good! It's about time!" I get the buttons all done up. I pull the grey pants outa the closet and carry them back to bed where I plunk myself down. Never used to have this trouble getting into my pants. Used to stand up tall, slide in one leg, then the other; tighten the belt and away I'd go. I remember those days. Some people call them the good old days. Not me!
Getting into my pants is a project and I don't mean the kind I used to live in either. Anyway by the time I was three mama moved out of that hell-hole and rented a little house near Oakwood and Vaughan. Don't know where my daddy was but he sure wasn't in that neighbourhood. Back in those days I was the only black face in the crowd. I asked mama once where my daddy was but she wasn't in a good mood to give me a straight answer.
Mama used to say if her life was a movie it would be a melodrama. If my life was a movie it would probably be a comedy or maybe a horror show depending on how you want to look at it.
I get my pants on. The pants legs are dragging on the floor; way too long. I shove my big old feet into my shoes and it makes no difference. The pants legs are still dragging. The pants are old and I know they're not getting any longer. Means I'm getting shorter. I didn't notice the shrinking. Guess it was a gradual thing. Doesn't seem long ago that I was six feet tall. Of course I wasn't bow-legged in those days. Don't know when that happened either.
Today's my birthday. Not sure but I think I'm 82 years old. Doesn't seem long since I was a strapping young man. In fact it doesn't seem that long ago that I was a kid. This gray fuzz on my head was curly black in those days. I was the only black kid in my school. When I was little I didn't know the difference between black and white but by the time I was ten I knew how to punch out anybody that got in my way or called me a bad name. I was brutal when I had to be. I knew how to be tough and even cruel. It kept people away from me and that's how I liked it.
I remember the day I was sitting out on the front step. Mama was at work and I was just hanging around, bored, waiting for her to come home to make us some supper. I saw this old lady coming down the sidewalk pulling her grocery cart. From the step I could see she had some good stuff in that cart. There was bread, apples, some meats from the butcher shop wrapped up in brown paper and tied with strings. I wanted some of that good stuff. I was hungry.
When that old lady was just about in front of me I stuck my leg out in front of her. The cart collapsed, groceries scattered all over the cement and she went flying. Then down she went on the sidewalk. Her knees were bleeding all over the place. It was hilarious. Stupid old woman!
Before she had a chance to pick herself up I grabbed a package of meat and ran up the alleyway like I was being chased by dragons. Once I was safely hidden in the back alley I opened the brown package. Good stuff! To this day knackwurst is one of my favourite sausages but it has never tasted as good as it did that day.
Mama came home about a half hour later. I remember ..............
THE SILENT STAR plus a dozen SELECTIONS is an anthology of short stories, all with the focus on contemporary social issues.
You will find this book on my author's page at https://amazon.com/author/audreyaustin
CRABAPPLE COURT - an excerpt
Page 118 - 121
"I could not help but overhear, doctor. You were speaking with Gerald Gagnon?"
"Yes."
"May I ask what it was he wanted?"
"He wants me to come over to stay with Patricia. He is going back to Elliot Lake to pick up his things."
"Oh, yes," the inspector says. "That comes as no surprise to me. Now, doctor, if I may, I understand you live here with your husband?"
"Yes, but he's not home. He's out with the search party and so are my boys."
"I see. Your boys? How many boys do you have?
"I have three sons."
"Their names and ages?"
"My oldest is William at seventeen; Harold is fifteen, and Gordon is thirteen."
"I see, and they are with your husband on the search party?"
"I didn't want them to go but, yes, that's where they are."
"And you had a reason for not wanting them to go, ma'am?"
"I was trying to protect them but they are okay. As long as they stay with my husband I'm okay with them being on the search party."
"Your husband, what is his profession, doctor?"
"Ernie is a lawyer."
"Since your boys are much older than the missing child I don't expect they would have much contact with her?"'
"No, that's where you're wrong. Susie was often coming over here wanting Gordie, my youngest, to play with her. It drove Gordie nuts. He didn't want her around. He just didn't want to be bothered with her and he would tell her to go home."
"And your other children?"
"No, they had no time for Susie but my oldest boy William did say he sometimes felt sorry for her being an only child with no father. It was Harold who said that she still had her grandfather though so he didn't feel so sorry for her."
"I see."
"I was surprised though when Gordon told me that Susan didn't like her grandfather. Gordie said Susie told him that her grandfather was weird."
"Did you find out why she said her grandfather was weird?"
"No, that's about it."
"You are a good friend of Doctor Donnelly?"
"Yes, we work together at the hospital. We're neighbours and, sure, we are friends."
At this point Inspector Fletcher stands up from the couch. "Thank you for your time, Doctor Martin. If I have any further questions I will be in touch with you."
Heather shows the Inspector to the door. Just before he leaves he asks, "You will be going next door now to Doctor Martin's house?"
"I will, yes."
"I see," is all the Inspector has to say about that.
Heather closes the door. She goes into her kitchen. After rummaging in a drawer she withdraws a small pad of paper and a pen. She writes a note, tears the small sheet from the pad and sticks it up on the fridge door with a magnet. I'm over at Patricia's is all the note says.
Heather is surprised when she knocks on Patricia's door to have it opened by a woman she has never seen before in her life. "Who are you?" she asks.
"I am Officer Owen of the RCMP. And who are you?"
"I''m Heather Martin. Patricia's father phoned me earlier and asked me to come stay with Patricia because he wants to return to Elliot Lake."
"Come in, Heather," Patricia shouts from the living-room. "It's okay, Officer Owens."
"Where is Gerald?" Heather asks upon her entry into the living-room.
"He wanted to go home to pick up some fresh clothes and stuff. He will be back here tomorrow."
Heather is annoyed. "I told him to stay with you until I got here. What was his big rush to go anyway?"
CRABAPPLE COURT is available on my Amazon Author's page at https://amazon.com/author/audreyaustin
Or you can find it directly at https://www.amazon.ca/Crabapple-Court-Audrey-Austin/dp/0978023870/ref=sr_1_1?crid=2HN50466BMXDI&dib=eyJ2IjoiMSJ9.9KyJHI59gjPEMyXNYCK6IA.QAfEREG9CsM0TXMGFow3rt6Hh1IFBHXkXTlZllI1OYI&dib_tag=se&keywords=Audrey+Austin+crabapple+court&qid=1769529540&s=books&sprefix=audrey+austin+crabapple+court%2Cstripbooks%2C106&sr=1-1
EMPOWERMENT WORKSHOPS FOR WOMEN in book form
For many years I conducted Empowerment Workshops for Women covering a multitude of women's issues topics including Grieving Our Losses; Relationship; Getting High on Life; and more.
The first workshop I ever facilitated was many years ago in Toronto and it was titled IS AGE REALLY JUST A NUMBER?
I am now a retired Psychospiritual Practitioner and I am no longer facilitating workshops.
However, I do have all the material from past workshops in my possession and, just recently, it occurred to me that I could take this material and offer it to anyone interested in book form.
And I have begun by doing just that with material I had on hand from my first workshop many years ago. The material is still very relevant and it is now my pleasure to share with you the first in this new series titled Empowerment Workshops for Women.
You will find IS AGE REALLY JUST A NUMBER? in paperback format on all Amazon sites.
Visit my author's page at https://amazon.com/author/audreyaustin