H.M. Holten's Blog, page 6

Spring Landscape

Coloured Pencils on Paper

© HMH, 2022

Life, Time, and Eternity

~

It’s already tomorrow although it is still tonight. This is true only from my point of view because my day isn’t done until it’s time to sleep. That’s the individual viewpoint. Of course, it would be different if my position on the earth was different. It could be this morning and there would be an entire day until tomorrow. It could be tomorrow. That’s what it is, even if my brain doesn’t accept it.

Is there a more powerful proof that we aren’t anything but energy? We’re not bodies, although we have a physical presence. The moment our mind leaves the body; that body becomes a mere combination of organs and tissue. Where is the mind then?

It exists in the energy that floats through everything. When we die, our bodies disintegrate but what happens to the immaterial voice within? Is it still active somewhere? Does it go back to the universe, so that our mind merges with everything? Is it because we can’t shed our individuality that we may find our way into life again? Do we get recycled? Why not? Our bodies aren’t important. The universe is.

The universe is energy and we’re part of that energy. It manifests in strange and wonderful forms. From bacteria to fully fledged bodies of any variety. Therefore, there wouldn’t be anything strange about returning as an insect or a tree, a flower, a human being. If we accept that we’re the stuff that dreams are made on, we must accept that everything is. Dreams equal energy, they can be registered as electrical currents. Brain activity, sensations, life, decay, the elements, everything is part of the cosmic dance. There’s magic in that. Life is magic. Death is a transformation. We are in constant flux from the moment the sperm enters the egg and causes the cells to divide. That alone is proof that we change. Every seven years our cells have all been exchanged.

There is such thing as cosmos and microcosmos. It is all around. It’s inside and outside. There’s no escape from that. Scary? Perhaps. It is also interesting; mind-boggling or just weird. The millions that dance on the tip of a needle are as normal as our bodies. Remember those films that show the similarity between the universe and the microcosmos inside a body? We measured everything, but we don’t grasp the significance of our measurements. If we did, we might not be able to function. We may see it for a fraction of a second and write about it in clumsy words, or timeless poetry.

In our daily life, we push our innate knowledge aside, unless we’re trees. After all, we’re made of the same stuff. Carbon. Electricity. Synapses and axons, chemicals, and neurotransmitters. How fascinating, and how devastating. We are manifestations, nothing more. You might ask, manifestations of what? Life? Could it be that simple? Are we all potential diamonds? Mass murderers? Saints? Trees, mountains, or gurgling streams?

We were made of air, water, soil, and fire. We’re limited and endless. That is a challenge and maybe a blessing. Could it be our doom? Have we moved so far away from our nature that we are destroying ourselves and destroying life as we know it? Would this happen anyway? Is the fact that we destroy the earth, the flora and fauna, just part of the inevitable development?

They say that the universe started with an explosion and that everything moves away from the centre of that explosion. In other words, the universe is expanding. One day it will be stretched so far in every direction that it implodes. And then what? Will there be another explosion with all the consequences? After all, we’ve seen stars being born and die. Star nurseries are facts as are black holes. We’ve measured them just like we measure the neurotransmitters and the electrical currents.

Everything fits together. Does that mean that the universe will come to an end? Perhaps. If that is true, we must accept that it will begin again. The next explosion will be followed by another implosion. Could our mistakes be corrected in that way? Maybe we will just make different mistakes. After all, it would make sense. We can go on making mistakes, learning from them, and making new mistakes in an endless expansion and contraction. Maybe we need to find a way off the Wheel of Life.

~

~

© HMH, 2022

Making the Rounds

~

Let us to war then. To siege and assault!

Although we proclaim it is nobody’s fault

We declare with conviction

 We will soon come to blows:

In war as in love, just anything goes.

*

We love the victorious but practise fierce combat

And quickly start over, with someone to pick at.

In love or in war, strict laws get upset

As warriors merit a new sobriquet

While weaker combatants so frequently win

The upshot of warring remains a great sin.

*

Turn the world upside down and show us a portal

A chance to desist, facing struggle immortal.

Lips become armour: a mouth turning weapon

Shoots arrows that injure or wound, whom we reckon

The unhappy enemy, our resolute friend

Upon whom it’s our function with wrath to descend.

*

Lips are for kissing. They part without favour

Nay, they return as the moon must, to savour

All that is true and desired in love

~

~

© HMH, 2022

Landscape with House

Coloured Pencils on Paper

© HMH, 2022

The Box

The box hung on the noticeboard at the back of the classroom. Hilde shuddered inside. It was that awful Gilbert’s idea, but why did their teacher allow it? A complaints’ box. They’d all start ratting on one another. That was what he wanted. What could Hilde do? She chewed the end of her pencil until she got an idea.

The next day their teacher emptied the box.

‘Let me see.’ Miss Jensen frowned as she spread the notes out on her desk. ‘Here we go. “Mette is ugly and should cover her mouth when she chews”. This hasn’t been signed.’

The children laughed. Mette wasn’t in school that day. The teacher put the slip of paper to the side.

‘Surely, this isn’t what we had in mind. We’ll forget this and continue. I won’t allow comments.’

She chose another slip and unfolded it.

‘Let me see.’ She shook her head. ‘This isn’t much better: “Mette took my apple and threw it at me.” No signature. Oh well, nothing much to do about that.’

Miss Jensen sighed as she rummaged through the notes.

‘Let me see what we have here.’ She unfolded the paper and her eyes widened. ‘“I want to complain about the complaints’ box. It would be much better to have a cookie jar”. Signed Hilde. Well, Hilde, you may be right, but we’ll keep it as agreed, for now.’

Out in the playground, Gilbert pushed Hilde up against the outer wall of the toilet shed.

‘Stop writing against our box, or else.’

His face was livid. Hilde saw that the teacher on duty was headed in their direction. If she kept still, maybe he’d catch Gilbert this time.

‘Why don’t you say something? Promise. Stupid cow!’

Gilbert let her go and rushed to the toilet. He had to have a radar of sorts. Well, she wouldn’t promise, not even if he killed her.

***

A few weeks passed. The kids in Hilde’s class were busy thinking up complaints. She heard their whispered conversations but didn’t join in. The tiny hairs on her neck rose whenever Gilbert came close.

Back in the classroom for the last lesson of the week, their teacher went to the back wall and emptied the complaints box.

‘I hope that we have some sensible offers this time. If not, I agree with Hilde that it would be better to stop this.’

She returned to her desk at the front of the class and spread the notes in front of her. After a moment she pushed them together and sighed.

‘Children, I don’t think you’re mature enough to have this opportunity. As of today, this complaints’ box is terminated.’

***

The next year, a new teacher arrived. He was lanky, wore glasses, and spoke deliberately. On the third school day, Gilbert lifted his hand. The teacher nodded.

‘Yes, Gilbert, what is it?’

Gilbert rose and smirked.

‘Mr Hansen, wouldn’t it be a good idea to have a complaints box? I’ve heard that it is useful to help keep discipline.’

Mr Hansen nodded slowly. Hilde lifted her hand before he could say anything.

‘Yes, Hilde?’

‘We had such a box last year, and it did us no good.’

‘It did!’ Gilbert waved his hand in the air as he spoke. ‘You just didn’t like it. You’re childish.’

‘Stop.’

Mr Hansen raised both hands.

‘I think Gilbert might have a point. Anyway, I need to get to know all of you better. We’ll hang up a message box and see what comes of it.’

Hilde bristled, but there was nothing to be done. Gilbert would show his true colours soon enough. She knew what he was up to, but it would do no good to fight. For now, it was her word against Gilbert’s.

***

During the first weeks, nothing happened. Like last year, the complaints were absurd and sometimes hurtful. Hilde wondered if Mr Hansen had taken the measure of Gilbert. If he had, he didn’t show it. When would be the right time to act? Should she write another note? Would it be better to wait? No, it was time to stand up to this. This wasn’t the moment to write about cookie jars though. That was cute but, against Gilbert, stronger measures were necessary.

At the end of the week, Mr Hansen read the messages aloud as usual. Hilde kept her temper with difficulty. Then Mr Hansen opened the last paper.

‘What is this?’

Hilde looked up, this had to be her note.

‘This is signed. For once.’ Mr Hansen sighed. ‘Oh. “To my knowledge, the stocks were abandoned as a punishment, centuries ago. Isn’t it time we practised the same courtesy here? Stop the Complaints’ Box and help us learn to live as human beings instead of as savages.” Signed, Hilde.’

There was silence. Mr Hansen leaned back in his chair and locked eyes with Hilde. She got up and took a deep breath.

‘Don’t you see, Mr Hansen, this box spreads conflict. Last year, Mette left. She couldn’t bear it, and her parents teach her at home.’

‘That is a grave allegation, Hilde.’ Mr Hansen replaced the box on its hook.  ‘Don’t let us lose our heads now. I’ll keep the trial going a few weeks longer.’

***

Nobody talked as Mr Hansen fetched the box. He took his time opening it and spreading the notes on his desk. Then he picked one and cleared his voice.

‘This is strange. “Pete and Maren are repugnant and stupid.” Signed Hilde.’

Mr Hansen swept the class with his eyes. Hilde jumped up.

‘I never wrote that. I haven’t even been near the noticeboard this week.’

‘I saw you!’  Gilbert gloated. ‘You put that note in the box this morning.’

‘You’re lying.’ Hilde felt her cheeks burn as she rose. ‘I know what you’re trying to do. May I see that note?’

She went up to Mr Hansen’s desk and held out her hand. Mr Hansen shrugged and handed the note over.

‘This isn’t my handwriting. I can spell repugnant.’

‘I saw you put that note in the box.’ Gilbert’s voice became ugly. ‘You’re a lying bitch.’

‘I don’t lie.’ Hilde turned her head. ‘You didn’t see me. Also, it’s your handwriting.’

‘I’ve got the picture.’  Mr Hansen rose. ‘Gilbert, come with me to the principal’s office. This has gone on for long enough. Now.’

© HMH, 2022

Phantasm

*

A little room

A cage with walls that collapse on you.

Your terror and confusion

That trembling moment

Your voice is breaking

Your cries unheard

Your dancing heart will still

Forever

A locked-down phase

Unnatural and rushed

*

Forget-me-not

A poor neglected bud

Forgotten and lost

*

Let your fervour

Mirror your eyes

Strong and full of glory

Wake up

Don’t be absorbed

In a nightmare

That will never Last

*

The bell will toll

The sun will

Brighten days of beauty

And restore your spirit

*

*

© HMH, 2022

Untitled, Flowers

Watercolour on paper

© HMH, 2022

Another Batch of Reviews

Lally Brown, The Countess, Napoleon, and St Helena

Fact and Fiction Mixed with Memoirs

‘The Countess, Napoleon, and St Helena’ is a strong minestrone. This kind of soup is a good opportunity to get rid of scraps and it can make a delicious dish. The question is if it works in literature.

Honestly, I’m not entirely convinced, even if there were some interesting points. What stroke me at first was the discrepancy between the countess’ and Ms Brown’s reaction to St Helena, specifically the nature. The reason might be to find in their different situations. Countess Françoise Elisabeth (Fanny) Bertrand saw this as a prison for her as well as l’Empereur. Did she want to go? Did she have a choice? Probably not. This wasn’t a period when married women had an option to declare their wishes.

Nobody wants to go past the Cape of Good Hope, but that was the situation for Napoleon and his entourage.

Ms Brown wanted ‘to bring history alive’ and she did that through the media of Fanny’s diary. This certainly gives insight into Napoleon’s character. His rages and his frustration, his gardening venture, and his amorous escapades. The fictional diary also presents dry shopping lists and gossip, as well as housing problems and childbearing agony.

John Anthony Miller, The Widow’s Walk

Tentative Love story with a Mystery Attached

Newly divorced, Audrey Taylor feels that her life is out of sync. Her job as an editor is the only thing that keeps her going. Then she inherits a run-down Victorian mansion in a small coastal town. That is her chance to get away and make a new start. She takes it, even if she is reluctant. Her employer allows her to establish a home office, which allows her to move.

The Mansion needs a lot of work, and thus a treasure map falls into her hands. Apart from that, the unusual setting makes her feel that the house could be haunted.

The mystery that unfolds goes far back in time, and it whets Audrey’s interest. Through her research, she meets new people and forms unexpected friendships and acquaintances. Will she find the treasure? Is it worth looking for?

It is easy to like Audrey and feel with her through disappointments and hopes, tentative feelings, and her attraction – sometimes to the wrong persons. Miller takes his readers captive from the first words to the end of this romantic mystery.

S L Baron, The Scarlet Destruction

Myths of the World, Creation and Destruction

Fiona Albright enjoys her life and chosen path as a barista. She doesn’t want life to change but it has something in store for her that she’d never believe if somebody were to tell her.

Gabriel LaCroix enters her life and does exactly that. He points out that she suffers from amnesia and that it endangers her as well as the world they share.

Fiona must go through a difficult path to understand her position and accept her duty. Will she, or won’t she?

SL Baron rolls out a world that is suffering. A world that could be perfect, only the people who live in it are out to destroy themselves and one another. The violence is overwhelming, and Baron brings her vision home to the reader. Clad in Mythical features, it is easy to grasp the allegory. We need only to throw a glance at what’s happening in this world. A warning voice that tells us to beware of the destruction we could trigger. This is another superb book from the hands of SL Baron.

Jennifer Irwin, A Dress the Color of the Sky

Addiction Can Destroy but May Also Give Insight

Self-loathing may be the hardest thing to overcome as it prevents healing. Prudence Aldrich has a history of abuse and is married to a self-centred alcoholic. The worst possible combination for a vulnerable soul. Her wish is to go back to what she perceives as an idyllic past when she first met her husband. To facilitate this wish she enters rehab.

Ms Irwin confronts her readers with the stark reality of abuse in flashbacks that shows the various phases of and reasons for Prudence’s problem. The therapy sessions are woven into the bleak past to show the reader as well as Prudence a way forward.

Will she take that path, and will she heal?

Years of abuse must be dealt with, and it is a painful journey with many pitfalls. Ms Irwin aptly shows the stark reality and clarifies many theories about abusers and their victims. This is done in impeccable writing that plays on the readers’ emotions. A Dress the Color of the Sky makes a strong impact, whether you are unfamiliar or familiar with the reality of addiction.

SS Bazinet, Living Takes it out of You

Survival in a Time of Plague

In the second instalment of The Madonna Diaries, we dive deeper into Dory’s tormented mind and find the many reasons for his suffering. Between him and his brother Milton looms their father.  Unlike a certain biblical brother, Milton will do everything to save Dory.

SS Bazinet rolls out toxic family relations that go far back and can create difficulties for both brothers. At the same time, there are healing forces to reckon with. Will Dory and Milton go under in a Miltonian hell, or will they survive? Is it possible to heal old and festering wounds? Remember, there are more things in heaven and earth than are dreamt of in our philosophy.

Ms Bazinet brings across her vision in her memorable and thoughtful prose. Living Takes it out of You takes you on a spiritual journey that is both scary and visionary. It is amazing to realise that the two first parts of this trilogy were published before the current pandemic broke out. The fear and the irrational reactions to the Madonna Diaries’ virus tally with what we see in the current situation. In other words, Ms Bazinet has a deep insight into human psychology.

Eva Pasco, Etta’s Fishing Ground

Contemporary Nineteen-Seventies: At the End of the Rainbow

Etta’s fishing ground has more to offer than the random smallmouth bass. It has a gallery of vivid characters and gives the reader a many-faceted insight into the fifties and the seventies without ever moving away from Foster, Rhode Island.

It is nothing new that love can derail the best laid plans. Neither is it surprising that false impressions can derail the closest relationships. Ms Pasco manages to give an age-old story new twists and make the life and love of ordinary people extraordinary.

That alone is enough to blaze a trail and immerse any reader in a human drama of depth and psychological insight. Add to that Ms Pasco’s crisp and inventive prose and you have a whirlwind of a book that keeps surprising and enchanting the reader.

Maureen Turner, Amy, Nephilim Freedom Fighter

What Makes a Nephilim Freedom Fighter?

With Malchediel kidnapped, Amy is distraught. Her last hope of seeing her beloved again is crushed, and she cries herself into a stupor.

Enter Ruby, a Nephilim and member of the NFF. She invites Amy to visit the headquarters in Bath. Amy accepts and eventually joins the NFF, hoping that she might have a better chance of seeing her lover again.

Added to the mix are demons, deaths, and worldwide destruction. All that creates a perfect action movie to play out in your mind. The tension rises as Amy must use her newfound skills and confront her worst fears.

Will Amy and Malchediel meet again? To find out, you’ll have to read the second part of the Wings Unfurled trilogy.

Ms Turner knows how to write a thrilling and colourful fantasy. The biblical theme adds to the excitement: there’s nothing like the fight between good and evil, heaven and hell.

SM Revolinski, Undercover Actress

Beware of Showing your Acting Skills or the FBI Might Get You

Deborah Barnes has landed her first good role on Broadway, but the fates, in the shape of the FBI, have other ideas.

They think her acting skills so impressive that she’d be perfect to infiltrate the mob, terrorists, and the criminal underbelly of Las Vegas.

To find out if she has the stuff to do so, you must read Undercover Actress.

Revolinski, a multi-genre author, clearly enjoys spinning a tale. His pen creates hardboiled mobsters (some with a heart), gruesome terrorists, nuclear scientists, spies, prostitutes, Middle Eastern heroes and villains, as well as brave detectives, and, of course, his protagonist, the beautiful and sexy Deborah Barnes.

A trilogy, full of thrills, a crime and terrorist caper to while away a few hours of wacky escapism.

© HMH, 2022

Manifestation

*

I don’t know your face.

I don’t know your name.

Yet, while centuries part us

You touch my soul.

*

Stardust and sand

Pulse with the echoes

Of long forgotten

Songs

Long forgotten

Grief

*

Why don’t I remember?

Why can’t you

Illuminate

A memory

A pulse

Beating

Beating

Slow and

Alluring

Feeding my

Pain

*

*

© HMH, 2022

Desert Rose

Digital Painting

© HMH, 2022