Please read Siddhartha...the story encompasses Everything...as in...the River is Everywhere...
Siddhartha left home to become a holy man, but still not satisfied became a successful merchant in order to earn the charms of the beautiful Kamala, and did so by following the Way of the River.
As an example, I'm an interior designer. Like Siddhartha, when I go to a client's home I don't begin pressuring them to spend their money, I get to know them first and try to build a relationship. When I have to travel for business, again like Siddhartha, I try to enjoy each moment during the trip with no particular agenda. Even during the business portion of the trip, I try to settle into the process of what's happening without worrying about sales and invoices.
Siddhartha gave up the riches of his status as a merchant to learn the skills of a boatman and to learn the Way of the River.
In my book, Hazel Moon, my character, Luke Castle, became disillusioned with his life in the fast lane, looked at his best canine buddy, Sonny, and decided to follow the Way of the Wolf...by living close to nature and immersing himself in the many present moments that made up each day. Also, my character, Finn McCool, whose family was rich and powerful, gave up his role in the family business to follow his passion as an entertainer, a singer. (find excerpts below)
Whatever issues you're struggling with or facing in life, you'll find guidance in the wisdom of Siddhartha.
Hazel Moon Excerpts
Luke Castle
Chapter 5
MARLBORO GIRL
LUKE CASTLE INHALED deeply, sucking the last bit of the last pleasurable hit out of his Marlboro Red. His man’s-best-friend constant companion, Sonny, was howling like a werewolf at the full Hazel Moon as it momentarily broke free from a cloud.
“Some kind of crazy riot in the sky tonight,” Luke commented while fingering the end of his cigarette. Taking in the random mix of festival aromas; stale beer, pizza, cooking grease and all the rest, he added, “I guess we aren’t in Kansas anymore…so where the hell are we, Sonny?”
It had been a long, hot summer. They’d traveled to Baton Rouge, Paris in Texas, and the Quad Cities, all since becoming a part of a carnival moving from town to town.
Looking around the grounds, he could see all the empty TJ Swan bottles and Pabst Blue Ribbon cans strewn around like bits of confetti after a parade, all sparkling in the bright moonlight. The carnival midway of rides, sideshows, and other vendors was located near the swampy end of this low-rent section of the festival grounds was the old glue factory—once the king of its manufacturing kind, but now only useful, only coming back to life on this one night, on the Eve of the Hazel Moon.
Many who attended the festival avoided the ruins of the old factory’s carcass, but not all—different smokes for different folks.
A laidback fellow like Luke Castle, proprietor of his Lizard Shack attraction, could relax even here, his Dresden Dolls made-up eyes eager to get on with the Midwestern morning as he scratched his companion’s furry head.
Upon arriving in a new town, these free-spirited gypsies, but also carnival entrepreneurs, always conducted a ritual scavenger hunt which this morning turned up a corn snake, some tree frogs, and a red scorpion skink. They were all added to the slithering posse that was Luke’s Lizard Shack critter collection where for a single George Washington you could not only see them up close, but even pet and hold a few of them.
Sonny chomped down the rest of Luke’s discarded dinner of German spicy pork sausages. Luke grinned at him, remembering his good fortune to also spot and dig out a rare mandrake plant root which he put on display as part of his collection because of its remarkable appearance, looking like a human body.
Luke was only hours away from the three-year anniversary of his soul-searching quest to discover his true destiny. After hooking up with Sonny, it all became crystal clear—a dog’s life of leisure was the life for him, which was when he joined the carnival.
Looking at Luke Castle would remind you of an isolated, tropical, white-sand beach—the kind you discover by accident when you’ve lost your way on a remote island’s coastal road.
You know how couples who grow old together seem to end up looking alike, the same could be said of Luke and loyal sidekick, Sonny, a yellow lab. Look at them and you’d see two striking creatures with sandy blonde hair, both as fit as Olympic swimmers, and who carry themselves with a confident air of nonchalance yet polished poise. Their attitude—if you like me, great…if you don’t, I don’t give a rat’s ass.
A brisk wind blew Luke’s long bangs over to one side as a young voice broke through the thick early-evening mist that had developed during the past hour.
“Hey…you’re Mr. Luke, right?” queried a cute, strawberry-faced girl of about eighteen, while walking up to him wearing a choker and giving off a sunburned rosy glow.
Over her neck was a strap and connected to the strap a cigarette display case. She was on the clock and supposed to give out samples.
“Can I interest you in a free pack of Marlboro Reds? Oops, I was first supposed to ask if you’re a smoker…but then who isn’t these days, well, at least they told me you were.”
This slick, young, gorgeous All-American vixen was the perfect choice to be a Marlboro Girl—as irresistible as a preppie cheerleader who always wins at strip poker.
Even Sonny wasn’t immune to her charms, glanced her way for a long moment, before returning to his even more enticing rawhide bone.
“Hey there…,” Luke said, leaning against the hanging flannel camouflage blankets that made up the walls of his Lizard Shack. “Weren’t you by this way before? Wouldn’t want you to get into any trouble…I’m sure your bossman wants you to spread those samples around. And, your pitch needs a mantra…a catchy saying…you know like, Marlboro smokers would rather fight than switch!”
“Whoa, mister…you’re looking out for me—I like it, and this is my first time here…what’s with the nasty odor though, but I also smell something kinda delicious.”
“The delicious is coming from Mrs. Komeni’s falafel stand over by that abandoned building, just past the swamp. About Mrs. Komeni…she must care, and this is no lie, every hour, as regular as Old Faithful, I can smell that she dumps out the old coffee and brews a new batch—you just don’t see that kind of honesty much in the world.”
Luke finger-combed his Robert-Redford rusty-blonde hair, looked at Sonny and admitted, “Unfortunately, the nasty is my deal…my boa constrictor is just not herself today and is crapping all over everything. Now, are you sure you weren’t by here about a half hour ago?”
Luke took a fresh sample pack out of his blue T-shirt pocket while another was in the back pocket of his faded, worn Wrangler jeans.
“No…it must have been Vanessa…she’s the one who told me about you, which is why I came over. Come on now, you should remember her, she’s Black, you know, African American, and I’m just me, a mutt I guess,” she tried to explain, blushing as her round face twisted into the shape of a Bavarian pretzel.
“All right…let me think,” Luke replied, posting a puzzled look in her direction.
“Okay, if you didn’t notice she was Black, did you get that she looks like the supermodel, Iman? Vanessa is the kind of perfect girl who follows the rules. She was dressed the way she was supposed to be, wearing black chino shorts. Can you see that I have a skort on? Now, do you remember?”
With that, the Marlboro Girl did a choreographed series of spins worthy of the lead in Flash Dance, then, dropped into the full splits before repeating the routine. Now she had both Luke’s and Sonny’s full attention!
“See, shorts in the back, but from the front they appear to be a miniskirt!”
“Oh yeah…that’s right, the other girl had shorts on…and now that I give it a second thought, she was damned gorgeous…which must be why you girls got the Marlboro gig.”
Luke lit up a cigarette while moving over a few paces to sit on the tailgate of his ’69 Ford truck fitted with a travel camper, still in pretty good shape for its age, before continuing their conversation.
Finn McCool Excerpt
from Chapter 2
THUNDERSTRUCK
NOVEMBER WAS NO longer in a tizzy to get to the festival. With her favorite band playing in the background, the calming scent of the wafting incense, a misty stillness settled into her soul.
“There’s a melancholy magic about it, don’t you think? I found it in a thrift store. Here, like this…you open the clasps and drape it on like a coat.”
Her voice had settled into a calm cadence as if she were entering a trance.
“Then you can tighten the clasps to conform to your body. Would you like to try it on?”
“Ah…rain check on that lame idea…but how about a drink?”
Angela’s request brought November back to the future, sparking the possibility of the fantastic which sent her heart racing once again as she remembered the festival was in progress.
Over to the frig...ice cubes, Rhine wine, with a twist, and the girls downed the drinks.
“Adventure waits for no man…or woman. Let’s go!” November declared, toasting her glass to the creepy dark sky evident through the window.
“Wait, what am I going to wear?” Angela pleaded.
“Oh…go to my wardrobe and pick out the sixth item…a black, long-sleeved bustier dress and don’t forget the velvet booties that go with it.”
“You mean…I know that dress, Finn gave it to you. It’s from Paris, right? Isn’t that dress sacred to you? What’s the matter, you and rich boy not hitting it off these days?”
Finn McCool Cardinal, son of the wealthy Mr. Arturo Cardinal of Cuban cigar family business fame who also owned the mall Merry Go Round store, was the MGR manger who managed to woo November into a brief tryst.
“Look, that’s over and done with…get the dress, put it on, and let’s get going—we’re on a mission!”
As Angela changed, November was now deep in thought, her eyes dark, her brow furrowed, as Mr. G’s words of warning began pulsing with the rhythm of her pounding heart.
Worried, she couldn’t help but wonder…where’s Luna when I need her?
TO CALM HER FEARS, November needed to bring some extra protection with her and not have to rely solely on whatever powers Angela had, but where was it and what was it again? Searching the bookcases, past stacks of old concert ticket stubs, over bottles of specimens, past a mound of zippers, finally she saw the snapshot of the Grand Canyon and remembered the name.
She grabbed the jar of Tourmaline, taking in the spectrum of colors from its surface; jet black, sapphire blue, and deep violet, while forgetting for the moment Luna’s warning that some of Tourmaline’s colors can have unexpected, even dangerous properties.
Touching a corner of the stone inside the wide-mouthed jar, she chanted reverently, “Let the fates decide,” as a surge of energy snapped between them like a strong static carpet shock.
Striking a long, wooden match to light the antique ivory funeral candle, November passed the cerulean stone over and over the flame, anointed it first with water, then, performed the final purification with kosher sea salt, and all while chanting.
May air blow away negativity,
Fire burn away the dross,
Water bring tides of calm,
And air hold me steadfast.
Within moments November, poised in the Lotus position, was in a trance staring at the blue glowing stone.
“Hey…why are you sitting on the floor like a little monkey? For real…don’t you even want to see how I look?”
That snapped November back to the present and the nearly overwhelming awareness that they were missing the action at the festival.
“You are wearing the hell out of that dress. I’ll go downstairs and borrow some umbrellas while you make us some drinks for the road. Meet me by the side door,” she managed to get out, timed perfectly with a crackling thunder bolt that shook the room causing the chandelier to start swinging like a carnival ride.
Luke Castle
Chapter 5
MARLBORO GIRL
LUKE CASTLE INHALED deeply, sucking the last bit of the last pleasurable hit out of his Marlboro Red. His man’s-best-friend constant companion, Sonny, was howling like a werewolf at the full Hazel Moon as it momentarily broke free from a cloud.
“Some kind of crazy riot in the sky tonight,” Luke commented while fingering the end of his cigarette. Taking in the random mix of festival aromas; stale beer, pizza, cooking grease and all the rest, he added, “I guess we aren’t in Kansas anymore…so where the hell are we, Sonny?”
It had been a long, hot summer. They’d traveled to Baton Rouge, Paris in Texas, and the Quad Cities, all since becoming a part of a carnival moving from town to town.
Looking around the grounds, he could see all the empty TJ Swan bottles and Pabst Blue Ribbon cans strewn around like bits of confetti after a parade, all sparkling in the bright moonlight. The carnival midway of rides, sideshows, and other vendors was located near the swampy end of this low-rent section of the festival grounds was the old glue factory—once the king of its manufacturing kind, but now only useful, only coming back to life on this one night, on the Eve of the Hazel Moon.
Many who attended the festival avoided the ruins of the old factory’s carcass, but not all—different smokes for different folks.
A laidback fellow like Luke Castle, proprietor of his Lizard Shack attraction, could relax even here, his Dresden Dolls made-up eyes eager to get on with the Midwestern morning as he scratched his companion’s furry head.
Upon arriving in a new town, these free-spirited gypsies, but also carnival entrepreneurs, always conducted a ritual scavenger hunt which this morning turned up a corn snake, some tree frogs, and a red scorpion skink. They were all added to the slithering posse that was Luke’s Lizard Shack critter collection where for a single George Washington you could not only see them up close, but even pet and hold a few of them.
Sonny chomped down the rest of Luke’s discarded dinner of German spicy pork sausages. Luke grinned at him, remembering his good fortune to also spot and dig out a rare mandrake plant root which he put on display as part of his collection because of its remarkable appearance, looking like a human body.
Luke was only hours away from the three-year anniversary of his soul-searching quest to discover his true destiny. After hooking up with Sonny, it all became crystal clear—a dog’s life of leisure was the life for him, which was when he joined the carnival.
Looking at Luke Castle would remind you of an isolated, tropical, white-sand beach—the kind you discover by accident when you’ve lost your way on a remote island’s coastal road.
You know how couples who grow old together seem to end up looking alike, the same could be said of Luke and loyal sidekick, Sonny, a yellow lab. Look at them and you’d see two striking creatures with sandy blonde hair, both as fit as Olympic swimmers, and who carry themselves with a confident air of nonchalance yet polished poise. Their attitude—if you like me, great…if you don’t, I don’t give a rat’s ass.
A brisk wind blew Luke’s long bangs over to one side as a young voice broke through the thick early-evening mist that had developed during the past hour.
“Hey…you’re Mr. Luke, right?” queried a cute, strawberry-faced girl of about eighteen, while walking up to him wearing a choker and giving off a sunburned rosy glow.
Over her neck was a strap and connected to the strap a cigarette display case. She was on the clock and supposed to give out samples.
“Can I interest you in a free pack of Marlboro Reds? Oops, I was first supposed to ask if you’re a smoker…but then who isn’t these days, well, at least they told me you were.”
This slick, young, gorgeous All-American vixen was the perfect choice to be a Marlboro Girl—as irresistible as a preppie cheerleader who always wins at strip poker.
Even Sonny wasn’t immune to her charms, glanced her way for a long moment, before returning to his even more enticing rawhide bone.
“Hey there…,” Luke said, leaning against the hanging flannel camouflage blankets that made up the walls of his Lizard Shack. “Weren’t you by this way before? Wouldn’t want you to get into any trouble…I’m sure your bossman wants you to spread those samples around. And, your pitch needs a mantra…a catchy saying…you know like, Marlboro smokers would rather fight than switch!”
“Whoa, mister…you’re looking out for me—I like it, and this is my first time here…what’s with the nasty odor though, but I also smell something kinda delicious.”
“The delicious is coming from Mrs. Komeni’s falafel stand over by that abandoned building, just past the swamp. About Mrs. Komeni…she must care, and this is no lie, every hour, as regular as Old Faithful, I can smell that she dumps out the old coffee and brews a new batch—you just don’t see that kind of honesty much in the world.”
Luke finger-combed his Robert-Redford rusty-blonde hair, looked at Sonny and admitted, “Unfortunately, the nasty is my deal…my boa constrictor is just not herself today and is crapping all over everything. Now, are you sure you weren’t by here about a half hour ago?”
Luke took a fresh sample pack out of his blue T-shirt pocket while another was in the back pocket of his faded, worn Wrangler jeans.
“No…it must have been Vanessa…she’s the one who told me about you, which is why I came over. Come on now, you should remember her, she’s Black, you know, African American, and I’m just me, a mutt I guess,” she tried to explain, blushing as her round face twisted into the shape of a Bavarian pretzel.
“All right…let me think,” Luke replied, posting a puzzled look in her direction.
“Okay, if you didn’t notice she was Black, did you get that she looks like the supermodel, Iman? Vanessa is the kind of perfect girl who follows the rules. She was dressed the way she was supposed to be, wearing black chino shorts. Can you see that I have a skort on? Now, do you remember?”
With that, the Marlboro Girl did a choreographed series of spins worthy of the lead in Flash Dance, then, dropped into the full splits before repeating the routine. Now she had both Luke’s and Sonny’s full attention!
“See, shorts in the back, but from the front they appear to be a miniskirt!”
“Oh yeah…that’s right, the other girl had shorts on…and now that I give it a second thought, she was damned gorgeous…which must be why you girls got the Marlboro gig.”
Luke lit up a cigarette while moving over a few paces to sit on the tailgate of his ’69 Ford truck fitted with a travel camper, still in pretty good shape for its age, before continuing their conversation.
Finn McCool Excerpt
from Chapter 2
THUNDERSTRUCK
NOVEMBER WAS NO longer in a tizzy to get to the festival. With her favorite band playing in the background, the calming scent of the wafting incense, a misty stillness settled into her soul.
“There’s a melancholy magic about it, don’t you think? I found it in a thrift store. Here, like this…you open the clasps and drape it on like a coat.”
Her voice had settled into a calm cadence as if she were entering a trance.
“Then you can tighten the clasps to conform to your body. Would you like to try it on?”
“Ah…rain check on that lame idea…but how about a drink?”
Angela’s request brought November back to the future, sparking the possibility of the fantastic which sent her heart racing once again as she remembered the festival was in progress.
Over to the frig...ice cubes, Rhine wine, with a twist, and the girls downed the drinks.
“Adventure waits for no man…or woman. Let’s go!” November declared, toasting her glass to the creepy dark sky evident through the window.
“Wait, what am I going to wear?” Angela pleaded.
“Oh…go to my wardrobe and pick out the sixth item…a black, long-sleeved bustier dress and don’t forget the velvet booties that go with it.”
“You mean…I know that dress, Finn gave it to you. It’s from Paris, right? Isn’t that dress sacred to you? What’s the matter, you and rich boy not hitting it off these days?”
Finn McCool Cardinal, son of the wealthy Mr. Arturo Cardinal of Cuban cigar family business fame who also owned the mall Merry Go Round store, was the MGR manger who managed to woo November into a brief tryst.
“Look, that’s over and done with…get the dress, put it on, and let’s get going—we’re on a mission!”
As Angela changed, November was now deep in thought, her eyes dark, her brow furrowed, as Mr. G’s words of warning began pulsing with the rhythm of her pounding heart.
Worried, she couldn’t help but wonder…where’s Luna when I need her?
TO CALM HER FEARS, November needed to bring some extra protection with her and not have to rely solely on whatever powers Angela had, but where was it and what was it again? Searching the bookcases, past stacks of old concert ticket stubs, over bottles of specimens, past a mound of zippers, finally she saw the snapshot of the Grand Canyon and remembered the name.
She grabbed the jar of Tourmaline, taking in the spectrum of colors from its surface; jet black, sapphire blue, and deep violet, while forgetting for the moment Luna’s warning that some of Tourmaline’s colors can have unexpected, even dangerous properties.
Touching a corner of the stone inside the wide-mouthed jar, she chanted reverently, “Let the fates decide,” as a surge of energy snapped between them like a strong static carpet shock.
Striking a long, wooden match to light the antique ivory funeral candle, November passed the cerulean stone over and over the flame, anointed it first with water, then, performed the final purification with kosher sea salt, and all while chanting.
May air blow away negativity,
Fire burn away the dross,
Water bring tides of calm,
And air hold me steadfast.
Within moments November, poised in the Lotus position, was in a trance staring at the blue glowing stone.
“Hey…why are you sitting on the floor like a little monkey? For real…don’t you even want to see how I look?”
That snapped November back to the present and the nearly overwhelming awareness that they were missing the action at the festival.
“You are wearing the hell out of that dress. I’ll go downstairs and borrow some umbrellas while you make us some drinks for the road. Meet me by the side door,” she managed to get out, timed perfectly with a crackling thunder bolt that shook the room causing the chandelier to start swinging like a carnival ride.
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