Thursday, August 4, 2016

Burning of St Paul’s by Katherine Pym



London burning
Of late there has been a plethora of articles re: the London Fire. The reason for this is we are nearing the 350th year anniversary of this spectacular event. Books are coming out. We’ll probably see a television special on it, maybe a movie.

If you believe in reincarnation, people who were there will remember it while we are being inundated with its drama. If you believe that memories can be passed down from one generation to another from the genes of our ancestors, if you are in any way related to them who lived through this event, you will remember the horror of it today.

The fire began in the wee hours of Sept 1, 1666 in Pudding Lane. A great wind rose that stoked the fire into a conflagration that did not end until Sept 5.

St Paul’s Cathedral was 2 churches in one. Underneath the grand structure, in the crypt, was St Faith where booksellers and their families worshipped. It was also a storage place for books, paper and printing presses. While the fire consumed the eastern portion of London city, people stored their goods there, expecting the great cathedral’s stout walls would protect them. 

View of London burning from Tower of London
When built 150 years earlier, the roof had been layered with lead, but over the years, holes had been patched with wood to keep out the weather. During the Civil Wars, horses had been stabled in the church. A blacksmith had worked within those vaulted walls, his forge chimney piercing through the cathedral’s lead roof.

In 1663 or so, a committee gathered to repair the old building. The closest they came was to enclose it with a webbing of wooden scaffolding. By Sept of 1666, the old cathedral was a neglected pile of stone. All it needed was a spark to meet its end, and what a spectacular end it was.

Wind whipped the London fire into a frenzy. It burned so hot, the glow and smoke could be seen for miles.  

People fled into the old church because it was stanchion against all adversity. They ran with what they could carry on their backs and huddled within the nave. Tuesday, as night fell over the burning city, the worst was yet to come.

“The pall of black, oily smoke over the city grew more and more dense, forming clouds so thickly charged with particles that a thunderstorm broke out, but it was unlike any storm the watchers... had ever seen. Out of the lowering pall of smoke, lightning began forking down around St Paul’s, the bolts stabbing into buildings that already were ablaze. The peals of thunder were lost in the roar of the flames and screaming of the wind...” pg 134 Great Fire of London

“The dry timber forming the roof above the stone vaulting burnt furiously... Large parts of the roof, both stone and burning timber, fell in, and the Cathedral became a roaring cauldron of fire...” pg 177 The Story of London’s Great Fire

The choir loft crashed into the vaults, causing the floor of the cathedral to collapse.  Tombs split open, their contents furiously burning.  Walls burst apart like cannon torpedoes, and the massive lead roof melted, pouring off the sides of the walls like silver rain.  It covered everything in a silver sheen before running in molten streams down London streets. 

Ludgate burning w St Paul's in the background
The next morning, a man named Taswell walked through the smoking ruins of London to Paul’s Cathedral. “The ground was so hot as almost to scorch my shoes; and the air so intensely warm that unless I had stopped... I must [would] have fainted... I perceived the metal belonging to the bells melting; the ruinous condition of the walls; whole heaps of stone of a large circumference tumbling down with a great noise just upon my feet, ready to crush me to death.” pg 181 The Story of London’s Great Fire 

Flames still burned from St Paul’s 48 hours later. Those who had sheltered in there slept with dead in their vaults. Piles of stone cooled under a sheathing of lead. It covered ancient relics in silver relief, reminders of the cathedral’s better days.  

The city hissed and smoked for weeks after. Over the months, spontaneous explosions would burst from cellars where the fire had never stopped smoldering.

Yes, we’ll see more of this in the coming weeks, but I don’t know if the extent of the calamity will ever be felt by those glued to their seats. Only those whose memories have drifted through the eons to this moment will really know what it was like.

Map of the destruction

Many thanks to:

Wikicommons, Public Domain
 
Bell, Walter G. The Story of London’s Great Fire, London 1929

Hanson, Neil. The Great Fire of London in that Apocalyptic Year, 1666. John Wiley & Sons, Inc., New Jersey, USA. 2002

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
 
Coming August 7th, Pre-Order available now.



Wednesday, August 3, 2016

Do you believe in Fate? by Heather Greenis


I must admit, I do. Fate brought me and my husband together.

Amazon
 I can’t say it was love at first sight. Not even close. He was a client at the bank I worked at and curled at our local curling club. He was a social curler. I had, and still have a bit of a competitive edge. A bit, is an understatement. I want to win while I have fun.

 So why wasn’t it love at first sight? Well, his wife had a big say in that. Now before you ruffle your feathers, allow me to assure you, we did not break up a happy, unhappy or anything in between marriage. A greater being had other plans for his wife which is truly a shame. A friend, she was a remarkable woman. My husband visits her regularly at the local cemetery to chat.

 A few months after his wife passed, the social put us on a team together. During one of our games, he fell and banged his knee on the ice. My first response was ‘Are you okay?’ Honest, I was sincere asking him that. I do have a bit of a heart. But the moment he said he was fine, I burst into laughter. He responded to my laughter with a joking ‘I hurt my %&@$% knee.’  I think he was looking for sympathy. Nope, I wasn’t going to allow him to get all sucky. Instead of sympathizing, I howled with laughter. I can be so mean. Then he laughed at me laughing at him. I think deep down, we both knew, then and there, we had something special. A strong friendship, plus.
         
                                          



I found myself a gentleman who still believes in chivalry. What are the chances? I’m not overly romantic, but I do like being treated like a lady. Hubby opens doors and assists with my coat. Sorry ladies, he does not have a brother. I’ve been asked that more than a few times.

 Best friends, we make each other laugh. Even going through emotional storms, we bring smiles to each others faces. I think storms make a person stronger. They make you dig for your emotional strength.  We still joke about that day on the ice.

 Fate brought my characters, Stewart and Natasha together. A chance meeting at a river. It was love at first sight, but I wasn’t kind to them. Instead, I test their fortitude with twists and turns and chuckles along the way. I do not allow them to wallow in self pity. The saga is not a fairytale romance. Life isn’t like that.

 Stewart possesses my husband’s wit and his intelligence. Don’t tell my husband that. It will be hard to live with his expanded ego.

 I remember when I finished one of my first drafts, I gave the electronic manuscript to my husband. An avid reader, I was half expecting him to say, ‘hmmm, not really my thing.’ A polite way of saying, ‘I don’t like it,’ without the risk of pissing me off.  A happy wife and all that fun stuff.  Instead, his response was, ‘This is good, but you can’t end it there.’

 The four-part continuing saga took me over 10 years to write. The saga grew, new characters were added and developed. Crises and, well … you’ll have to read it for yourself.

 It began as one big book, taking the Donovan family through generations. Too big, around 1200 pages, I decided to break the plot into 4 parts, each ending with a cliff hanger. Natasha’s Dream, Natasha’s Diary, Natasha’s Hope and Natasha’s Legacy, making The Natasha Saga.

Speaking of reading it, I received an amazing review through goodreads. It’s a long review so I’ll just given a wee snippet of it.  The review is from Holly:

 ‘Sometimes I get the rare chance to read a book series or in this case, a saga that leaves me speechless and deeply moved. This series has touched my heart and soul at the deepest level. …Heather Greenis has done a brilliant job as a master storyteller with this saga. Her amazing skills as an author have resulted in a story that will touch each and every reader in the deepest way possible.’

This review tells me, ‘mission successful. I accomplished my goal.’ If you decide to read it, I hope you enjoy the plot.

Tuesday, August 2, 2016

A LEAP OF FAITH - MARGARET TANNER


SELECTION OF LAND - A LEAP OF FAITH

In a leap of faith, driven by desperation and the chance to improve the lives of their families in Australia, men took advantage of the Selection of Land Act, and staked their claim on parcels of crown land. Unfortunately, for many inexperienced in the ways of farming in a harsh continent like Australia, they were doomed to failure and heartache. Many not only lost their land but their lives. Others struggled on for years, their lives blighted by bitterness and regret at a leap of faith that didn’t deliver the riches they had dreamed of. Some made an adequate living. A few, of course, prospered. Rather than a leap of faith, I would call it a lottery. It all depended on the experience of the man, but more importantly the quality of the land on which he selected.



In Australia the 1860/61 Land Act allowed free selection of crown land. This included land illegally occupied by the squatters, (wealthy ranchers), who had managed to circumvent the law for years. A similar scheme apparently operated in the US as well, (nesters against the ranchers).



The Act sometimes allowed selectors (small farmers) access to the squatters’ land, and they could purchase between 40 and 320 acres, but after that, the authorities left them to fend for themselves. Not an easy task against the wealthy, often ruthless squatters who were incensed at what they thought was theft of their land.



The Act of Selection was intended to encourage closer settlement, based on intensive agriculture. Selectors often came into conflict with squatters, who already occupied land. The bitterness ran deep for many years, sometimes erupting into violence.



Steele Rudd (a pseudonym for Arthur Hoey Davis 14.11.1868 – 11.10.35), an Australian author wrote a story On Our Selection. He based it on his father’s experience as a selector struggling to make ends meet on a small parcel of land.  It started out as just one chapter published in a magazine in December 1895 and eventually became the basis for Dad and Dave, a popular radio series which ran from 1932 – 1952.



Henry Lawson 1867 – 1922, was born on the gold fields of NSW. Many believed him to be the first poet to capture the Australian way of life. After a childhood ear infection, he was totally deaf by the age of 14, and he grew up to be bitter about his poverty and ill-fortune.



In 1888 he started publishing his stories and poems.



The Fire at Ross’ Farm, was a classic poem about selector versus the squatter.

Robert Black, the squatter’s son, loved Jenny Ross the selector’s daughter.



When Robert tells his father about the bushfire (wild fire) threatening the Ross farm, his father said, and I quote these couple of lines from Henry Lawson’s poem, which I feel epitomise the extent of the hatred and mistrust between the squatters and the selectors.



Then let it burn the squatter said, I’d like to see it done

I’d bless the fire if it would clear Selectors from my run (run is an old, no longer used, Aussie term for ranch).

FIERY POSSESSION (HISTORICAL FICTION WITH ROMANTIC ELEMENTS)
Jo Saunders is a feisty American beauty and Luke Campton is a wealthy squatter.
Explosive results and tragedy follow Jo and Luke when they cross the fine line dividing love and hate.



Monday, August 1, 2016

Books We Love's Tantalizing Talent ~ Author Eleanor Stem



Due to an eclectic mind, Eleanor Stem writes stuff that is ‘out there’.  Not X-File stuff but theories like: what precipitated mythology? There had to be a source that caused these stories. What was the true message of prophets before word-of-mouth and time morphed the truths, or were deliberately changed due to the powers-that-be didn’t like something that was written? Those are the type of stories Eleanor enjoys writing. On a more mundane note, Eleanor lives in a small Texas town with her husband and pug mix. 



Miri’s Song is considered an alternative historical fiction. It is the personal story of Magdalene’s spiritual journey after being rescued from death by Joshua the Nazarene.  








The Salt Box is a YA fantasy that explores a world that is pristine, the people gentle. The mass of their bodies are more translucent than the homo-sapiens. They judge another by their auras. Their land is clean. The oceans are of fresh water. A new species comes to their world and through the innocence of a gift, changes everything. 











NDEs by Shirley Martin

Amazon
I’ve never had one, although I’ve read quite a bit about them.  I’m referring to Near Death Experiences.

The term Near Death Experience is often misused.  So let’s discuss what it is not.  It doesn’t mean you almost drowned, or that you almost had a fatal  car crash.

How do you define a near death experience?  Here’s the online dictionary’s definition: “An occurrence in which a person comes very close to dying and has memories of a spiritual experience, such as meeting dead friends and family members and seeing a white light when death was near.”  We see from the study discussed here that a person can be unconscious when he has this experience.  And of course, it can involve so much more than is given in the above definition.

The pathfinder in the study of near death experiences is Dr. Raymond Moody, who wrote “Life after Life” in 1975.  In this blog  posting, I quote almost entirely from  “Evidence of the Afterlife, the Science of Near Death Experiences” by Jeffrey Long, M.D. and Paul Perry.  Over ten years ago, Dr. Long, a radiation oncologist, developed an online questionnaire for people who have had NDEs, asking them numerous questions about their experiences but narrowing the study down to nine lines that best describe their experience.

On the study of near death experience, Dr. Long considered a person to be near death if the person was so physically compromised that he would die if his condition did not improve.  The NDErs studied in the doctor’s book were generally unconscious and often apparently physically dead with the absence of a heartbeat or breathing.  The experience had to occur at a time he was near death.  Besides that, the experience had to be lucid.

Dr. Long divided the NDEs into nine different aspects, or elements.   Not everyone had all nine elements.

The first element is lucid death.  One person had a brain hemorrhage in which he knew he was dead.  When he realized that he was dead, a great warmth of love enveloped  him.  If there is any one word that describes what goes on during a NDE it is love, an overwhelming warmth and love.  This patient was in a coma for three days.  During this time, he “saw” a world economic downturn and a nuclear explosion in North Korea.  Sound familiar?

A second aspect of NDE is an out-of-body experience.   In many NDEs, the OBE is the first element.  (It goes without saying that some people have an OBE when they are nowhere near death.)   Out of body means the separation of consciousness from the physical body.  We have all probably known of people on the operating table who floated up to the ceiling and could see the doctors working frantically on their body.

The third element is blind sight.  Doctors have found that many people who were born blind develop vision during the NDE.  They can see the same sort of things that other NDErs do.

A fourth element consists of people who had a near death experience while under anesthesia.  Many of these people may already have been near death before the operation.  A case study involved a man who experienced complications during surgery.  At first, all he saw was darkness.  Then he felt himself being pulled through a dark tunnel and coming out to a bright light.  After that,  he met his grandmother, who was dead.

The life review is an interesting element.  In this case, people see pictures of the life they have lived.   Many say it is like watching a movie of one’s life.  Here, the person is shown how he had hurt someone else, and he feels their emotions.  Some describe it as “life flashing before their eyes.”  Sometimes, spiritual beings accompany the person who is having the life review.  Some NDErs say their life review consisted of feelings rather than events.

A further aspect of the NDE is a family reunion.  Many see their loved ones who had died before.  We often read of a border that separates the NDEr from the loved  one, a border over which he can’t pass.  The near death experiencer is made to realize that once he crosses this border, there is no returning.  Often communication with their loved one is through telepathy.  People who had died years or decades before are often encountered.

Mark Twain said, “Death is the starlit strip between the companionship of yesterday and the reunion of tomorrow.”

Skeptics say that NDErs fabricate their experiences.  Yet very young children–five or under–are known to have had NDEs.  Dr. Long’s research reveals that very young children had every NDE element that older children and adults do.

What about people from other countries, especially non-Western countries?   Are their NDEs similar to those of people from the United States and other Western countries?  Dr. Long’s study is the largest cross-cultural study of NDEs ever done.  The doctor hired interpreters who have helped him in his research..  From his study we see we see that the NDE is the same throughout the world.

The last element in the doctor’s study–the ninth element–reveals that people often change their lives after their near death experience.  For one thing, they are no longer afraid of death.  Many people become more sympathetic, empathetic, and kinder.  They become more considerate of others.  Many realize that facing death is not the end but the beginning.

In thinking about NDEs, bear in mind that Dr. Long’s study is quite intensive and comprehensive and was conducted by a radiation oncologist.  So we can safely assume that the accounts registered in this study are factual.



Please check out my website.  www.shirleymartinauthor.com
My books are available at Amazon.  http://amzn.to/IzN7YAz
You can also find me at my publisher's website:  http://bookswelove.net/authors.martin-shirley
Several of my books are in print and are available at bookstores.
I'm on Twitter, Facebook, and Linkedin

Sunday, July 31, 2016

Weekly Winner ~ Get Fired Up For Summer Contest



Eva Minaskanian wins a copy of Damsel of the Hawk by Vijaya Schartz.

Eva, please email bookswelove@telus.net 
to claim your prize. 

Congratulations!

Books We Love









Find the contest details here

 

Get Fired Up For Summer with 
Books We Love!

Astral Travel by Eleanor Stem

We are born remembering where we came from, what we can do. While in-utero we are partially with the growing fetus and also within the ether. We divide our time between the two and swear to the heavens we will not forget. 

By the time we reach the age of two or three our spirits are totally enclosed in the fleshly casing we call our bodies and we forget. We start to feel lonely, bereft. The light does not penetrate easily into our souls through dense skin, sinew and bone. 

We forget we can astral travel. 

Now, please bear with me; I promise this will be interesting. You just have to read a little before getting to it: 

I knew this lady who had to move to another town for work, leaving her husband behind. For about 6 months, they visited each other every other month. The only friends she made during this time were two coworkers, a man and a woman. 

She heard about a music festival that was popular in the area. Musicians competed with each other. They sold crafts and funnel cakes but to get there she had to travel narrow roads that wound through long stretches of farmland. As with her life of late, it was located in an isolated area. 

She did not want to go alone but it was supposed to be fun. She also wanted to get some Christmas gifts for her family. Her female coworker was out of town so she asked the guy to accompany her. She did not want to tell her husband. He would be upset. 

Toward the weekend, she became nervous. On Saturday, when she was supposed to meet the guy, she texted her husband to let him know her plans and to trust her. She stuck her mobile into her purse and almost ran out of the apartment. 

The road to the small town and music festival was pretty, but again isolated. She didn’t like her male coworker very much. The more she learned of him, the more his dark moods concerned her. One day he stood near the door of her office as he ground out some ill and she literally saw his aura, brownish, like a dark, disintegrating shield. She backed away. 

They got to the festival and separated, he to a conference call and she to the crafts. After a while, they met where the food was being served. He asked if she liked funnel cake. She responded she’d never eaten one. He said, “Well we can’t have that, can we?” 

As they sat across from each other at a picnic table, people with their children meandered through. Music could be heard in the background, cheers from the stadium where groups performed. 

She cut into her piece of funnel cake, a rich delight of whipped cream, pastry and apples. The guy confided something to her, but she watched over his shoulder, not hearing what he said. His mouth worked as if she were deaf. She found living apart from her husband lonely. Friendly coworkers didn’t help. 

Suddenly she heard a loud pop. Something altered in the ether. She turned in that direction where, close at hand, energy shifted. As she watched, fractured space folded back to normal. 

But she never made the connection to astral travel. A woman had just sent her food remnants into a rubbish barrel. She must have thrown something heavy in there. 

That night, she spoke with her husband. He said he’d been at the festival with her, saw her eat the funnel cake. She wore a white shirt. From what he saw, he knew she was not being disloyal. He felt good, reassured. The pop she had heard was when someone knocked on the door, hurtling him back to their house and onto the couch where he sat. 

Amazed, she explained what she had felt, what she had heard, that the ether had popped. She had worn a white shirt. 

Everyone acted normally. The guy across from her kept talking about his ills and needs. No one had looked up to see if something had made that loud pop. 

She alone had heard the shift in the ether, seen the air move while her husband had been with her.
 ~~~~~~
Many thanks to Terri for her story.

Popular Posts

Books We Love Insider Blog

Blog Archive