Michael Forester's Blog, page 4
February 28, 2017
Blog Post 95: Time Out at Taal
February 2017
We’re on tour in the Philippines. Having left home on 15 February, I have been travelling, speaking and signing books in Universities, High Schools and at an international convention for twelve consecutive days now, with up to three events per day. The schedule, managed by the indefatigable Professor Pascual, has been a delight, but relentless.
Today, I am supposed to be the guest of honour at Makati University’s English Week, subtitled, Celebrating the Voice of Michael Forester, an honour to which it is as difficult to acclimatise as it is to the climate, 14 degrees north of the Equator. But the City of Manila has other intentions, for a city-wide transport strike has been called. As a result, all places of education have been closed for the day. I know the professors and students at Makati have been preparing, as have I, for months. The deflation is almost tangible, and I am so sad for those who have been disappointed.
There is nothing to be done, and Dr Pascual decides we must compress two days of events into one, tomorrow, when the strike will be over. That gives me an enforced, but highly valued day off. Dr P has decided we will spend it at Tagaytay. I have not idea what’s in store. But there again, we never really do.
I awake early with words in my mind. This is normal, but for the last twelve days, incessant activity has rendered Komar, the Shadow Man, silent. I leap from bed, knowing that if I do not process the words as they come, I will more than likely lose them. That’s the nature of our partnership, the Shadow Man and me. He speaks, I process. If you want to know about Komar you’ll find his story in Forest Rain, a newly released collection of spiritual essays and poetry, which has been selling fast, here in The Philippines. This communication, though, is a dissemination piece, an advertisement, if you will, in support of If It Wasn’t For That Dog, my book about Matt my beloved Hearing Dog. I will post it on social media at the right time.
Words processed, I potter until it is time to take the Taxi to Tagatay. En Route, we stop for coffee, and in Starbucks, my mind wanders off to meet with Komar again. I never plan this, but I do make space for it. Today, Komar is bursting with what he wants to say, for my mental preoccupation for the last twelve, intense, days has distracted me from listening to him.
The words are those contained in the next blog post, number 96: The Wrecking Ball. I will post that entry a day or so after this one appears. Post drafted, we proceed on to Tagaytay, where I am confronted with an astonishing view over lake and mountains. And at the centre: Luzon Island on which stands Taal Volcano, our real destination. We drop down the mountain side through a series of dizzying hairpin bends to the side of the lake, where the waves are brisk. Little boats bob at the makeshift jetty, as if struggling for emancipation. In the tour office comes the first major decision of the day. It’s a 45 minute walk in the rapidly rising morning sun to reach the lip of the volcano. The alternative is a 25 minute horseback ride.
Now, I did that once before; rode a horse, I mean. It was about 30 years ago. It did not end well. Initially, I opt to walk, but realise what I’m taking on, given the heat, and eventually, take my life in my hands and agree to the ride. Business done, we proceed to the jetty, such as it is. I don the proffered one-size-fits-all life jacket (only it doesn’t – fit, I mean) and climb into the boat. My hearing processor is removed for what will be an inevitably wet journey. Silence descends, making much space for another discourse with the Shadow Man. And as we chug over towards Luzon Island, the waves lull me into trance once more and speak, he does.
He speaks of metaphor and mountains, of love and of lakes; of heights and depths and of eternity and infinity. I am all but literally blown away, not by the wind, though that is strong enough.
But by the metaphor that is this life, this journey that is joy and challenge, experience and revelation, if we but open our eyes to see past that which presents as commonplace. All I see, all I ‘hear,’ all I feel, kinaesthetically, stands as metaphor, as representation for the deeper place, the substructure of the universe that lies beneath what we see, if we simply have eyes to see; to see the Godspace. And it is in the Godspace that we find understanding of our owning meaning and purpose. For I am part of that metaphor, that glorious explosion of ecstasy which is the birth cry of our expanding universe, in the infinite multiverse of possibility. And I weep. I weep in the lake spray that disguises the reality of tears and makes tears a metaphor all of their own. I weep for the joy of the inspirations of the mountains, the revelation of Spirit in the lake, the exhilaration of the waves and the climb of the volcano that lies ahead.
We arrive at Luzon Island and clamber carefully out of the boat. My request to keep the life jacket for the horse ride is met with mirth. We proceed to the mounting point and don masks for the dust. I am introduced to a horse and climb inelegantly onto his back. Much discussion ensues in foreign tongue before I am removed and placed on a sturdier animal. I have considerable sympathy for any creature challenged to carry my weight, albeit there is some 50 pounds or so less of me than there was two years ago.
I look around for the steering wheel and brake pedal. I can’t find them. I’ll bet this creature doesn’t even have a road worthiness certificate. As we set off, I am wholly preoccupied with hanging on to the tiny handle at the front of the saddle, and maintain my balance against an all too high centre of gravity. Surely, if God had meant man to ride, he would have given us four legs. But there again He did. It’s called horses. In front rides Dr Pascual, poised and elegant. Something tells me I don’t look like that. Mercifully, the driving is done by the gentleman attending the horse. I pray earnestly that he will not let go of the piece of rope that substitutes for reins. I only wish he had a steering wheel.
As we ascend the volcano, we pass a sign that says ‘Stations of the Cross.’ So this is what it feels like to be crucified, I think. Not being a Catholic, I try hard to remember how many Stations of the Cross there are –is it seven or nine? Please, Lord, let there be only seven. I don’t think I’m going to survive nine. At each stage, folk appear to offer us weary travellers various refreshments, usually of the liquid variety. But if anyone thinks I’m about to let go of this handle in front of me with either hand for something as unnecessary as fluid, they are sorely mistaken. In the survival-on-a-horse business, security trumps thirst. I am grateful for my hat and my sunglasses and my dust mask. I can live without water until we get to the top.
The dusty path opens out to a wider sweep of land that rises more gently for a time. I look around at the ever more breath-taking view. I’m now beginning to get… what? My sea legs? Can’t be. I may be all at sea here, so to speak, but I’m not at sea. I begin to get my horse legs. I just wish I had four, like the horse. But I have some balance at last. I’m beginning to understand how, with enough practice, the certifiably insane might possibly come to enjoy this life-threatening elevation. At least, the view is clear from up here. But just as I am beginning to think I’m Clint Eastwood riding my golden palomino across the Wyoming savannah into the sunset, the path grows steep again – and that’s Steep with a capital ’EEP.’ I lean forward in a vain attempt to remain upright and wonder just how long this can go on, when we are confronted by a troupe of riders making their way down. We stop for them and I sway uncertainly, wondering if there might be a market for horse safety belts. We set off again.
And then, finally, mercifully, we arrive at Everest base camp. Well, it feels like it to me anyway. We alight the horses on to piles of concrete bags without the aid of a safety net (actually, thinking about it, UK Health and Safety would go bonkers over this place – but that’s another Learning). A short climb on makeshift steps formed from more bags of concrete (smart thinking, hey) brings us to the top, and the view for which we have come. I stare over the lip of the volcano in astonished wonder at the green water of the caldera lake below me and out over the far lip to Taal lake beyond.
As I drink down the spectacle, trance takes me once again and I am looking for the metaphors. So now, I see the meaning in the journey. That horse, standing a few metres below me: however much I feared it, he was never going to stumble or let me slide off. He makes this trip every day. My job was just to sit there and enjoy the journey, to hold on and not panic myself into losing my nerve and creating a crisis. It’s pretty much the same job I’ve had all my life. It’s simply that it has taken me a while to see it.
After an hour of scribbling notes (the dictation on the i-phone won’t work – due to the heat, maybe?) and snapping up visual memories, we turn for the journey back. No one told me horses go faster downhill than they did coming up. No one told me the road is steeper on the way down. There’s metaphor in that too. But I guess it’s a Learning for another day. Clint Eastwood never had this trouble. Must have been because of his golden palomino.
Namaste
February 16, 2017
Michael Forester: Philippines Tour February-March 2017
Visit to Global Innovative College 21st February 2017
Huge thanks to Global Innovative College for their invitation to visit on 21st February and their associated Facebook announcement:
British Contemporary Author, Mr. MICHAEL FORESTER (Author of the books The Goblin Child & Dragonsong) comes to Global Innovative College for a Special Lecture titled ‘Unshackling the Poet Within’ on Feb. 21, 2017; 2:00PM to 4:00PM at Global Collaboration Hall in celebration of our English & Arts Month and a prelude to GIC’s 15th Founding Anniversary. Everyone is invited to come! Admission is Free! PM to pre-register. — withAnabel Lee Albano Maglalang, Becca Fajardo andLester Ramirez.
January 10, 2017
The post appeared first on Michael Forester.
The post appeared first on Michael Forester.
January 8, 2017
Blog Post 93: Announcing Philippines Tour
I am delighted to announce my forthcoming book signing and speaking tour of the Philippines, 16th February to 7th March 2017.
At the invitation of The University of Makati Circle of Professional Educators and Dr Janet Pascual, I have been requested to deliver keynote speeches to the International Convention on Outcome Based Education on 25th to 26th February 2017. I am also invited to read and address the tutors and students of Makati University as well as a further eight universities in Manilla and around The Philippines during my visit. During week commencing 27th February, University of Makati will also be holding an ‘English Week,’ with the theme, ‘Celebrating Michael Forester’s Voice Through Language and Literature’ I would like to express my enormous gratitude to Dr Pascual and colleagues for this honour and marvellous opportunity to share my work.
Michael Forester
December 18, 2016
Blog Post 91: The Goblin Child
A tremendous review for The Goblin Child has appeared at Hubpages: http://hub.me/akSh3
My thanks to Alicia Rose Harrell for her fine review
The Goblin Child and other stories: entire book cover. | Source
The Goblin Child and other stories (2016)
Michael Forester is a prolific contemporary poet and author. He has proven via the book The Goblin Child and other stories that even short stories are a beautiful form of word art; constructively carefully woven together to gift an enjoyable reading experience where the reader is transported to another realm, time or place. This book is fun to read, and The Goblin Child reminds the reader how delightful as well as insightful short stories truly are.
The shorts in The Goblin Child cover some childhood stuff in an adult viewpoint. As I attentively read each short story in this book, I realized the targeted audience was for 18+. He discusses through the short stories common and extraordinary childhood and adult issues, sharing much that at first comes across as too much, but as one continues to read the stories one realizes the necessity for the over sharing. Individually, at first, the stories in The Goblin Child seemed disconnected, disjointed, a mish mash, but the more I read of the book the more I began to see how connected the stories truly were either through the characters, the subject matter or type of story. It reminded me of the short works of Isaac Asimov and Robert A. Heinlein, where their short stories actually were connected in some way and the more I read them, the more I saw how. Michael Forester has mastered this connectivity of shorts as well.
As far as genre is concerned, this reviewer would say this book is Fiction. Some would consider individually these stories in this book to be Fantasy, Drama or Science Fiction. It truly is difficult even after reading the entire book to decide which genre the entire collection solely belongs which makes these short stories wonderfully unique. This attractive collection of shorts has a little bit of everything, like a potpourri. Michael Forester definitely knew what he was doing when he placed these imaginative stories in the order given in The Goblin Child.
The Goblin Child is also the kind of book that if you are looking for a gift for the “person who has everything” then your search is over. This is work makes an excellent gift for any occasion (birthday, the Winter Holiday, New Year’s, etc.). The stories within its pages are the kind that just about anyone would find fun, has mass appeal.
I highly recommend this book; kept my attention throughout! I enjoyed the variety of short stories this collection gifts. A great big thank you to Michael Forester for writing such wonderful shorts, renewing this reader’s appreciation for short story plots with plenty of twists.
Enjoy the read!
1
2
3
4
5
5 stars for The Goblin Child and other stories
More about Michael Forester
Official Author Website:
The Goblin Child and other stories plus Michael Forester’s earlier published works are available online at his official author website. This user friendly site shares much about this author including his delightful poems that are available to read for free. If you get a chance to peruse his charming website, please do. Visiting Michael Forester’s official site is a great way to get to know him as well as be exposed to some excellent contemporary poetry.
Social Networking:
Michael Forester social interacts with others via Twitter. He is the kind that if you follow him, Mr. Forester has the tendency to follow back. If he likes what is tweeted, he re-tweets. He and I both have enjoyed re-tweeting each other’s tweets. From my personal experience with him on Twitter, Michael Forester is one of the kindest followers I have as well as a top interactor! Truly wonderful!
Michael Forester is further active on Goodreads and Facebook. This modern author also has his own YouTube channel.
The Goblin Child: and other stories
Buy Now
Books by Michael Forester
Autographed copies are available upon request on his official author’s website.
Dragon Song
If It Wasn’t For That Dog
The Goblin Child and other stories
Light
Love
Peace
Light, Love and Peace are also available in pdf format.
