CHUPACABRA: Evolution of Mangy Coyotes

It was a hazy morning about three months ago.   I was driving the familiar back-roads near my home when I spotted movement.

"Look kids, a coyote pup," but my voice broke, dissipating into the shocked silence of the vehicle.

The canine-like creature, standing next to my car, was no coyote.  Cloaked in a shroud of grey, wrinkled skin, the only fur upon its shriveled body was a tawny mane which ran from the crest of the creature's head along it neck, and dissolved above its shoulder blades.  Its ears were bat-like, too pointed and ragged at the tips, and its muzzle was curved into a permanent snarl.  Staring at us with its empty black eyes, it drew the innocence from my niece and nephew like a demon freshly emerged from the depths of hell.

"What is it?" my niece gasped.

"A chupacabra."  It was the first time I'd seen such a creature, but I recognized it instantly.

OK, rewind.  Earlier that summer I'd attended a bonfire at my neighbor's farm.  The party had reached a lull, late into the night, leaving the few remaining guests in a trance staring at the hypnotic fire.

"I saw a chupacabra yesterday," my neighbor said.

I laughed, too loud, thinking he was starting a joke, but he didn't laugh.  He stared into the flames telling me how he'd discovered the road-killed animal just a few miles down the road.

I looked to my husband, but he was conversing with one of our other neighbors.  Was I the only one hearing this?  Surly, my neighbor didn't believe in the mythological beast, the goat-sucker of Mexico. He continued to explain, the creature was actually a coyote suffering from mange but the disease had mutated the animal's physical appearance into a horrifying form.  He couldn't get past the needle-like teeth and still seemed haunted by his encounter.

Since then, I've seen chupacabras several times, even captured images of the creatures on my camera phone, but still to this day, I have yet to snap a photo of it with my Nikon.  I remained intrigued by the creature, both by the disease which plagues our coyote population and by the myth of the goat-sucking beast.

All I know is, no matter how many encounters I've had with the creatures, my hair still stands on the back of my arms.  Be it disease or devil, chupacabras are a real nightmare.

Creator's Garden

Even though I've been fighting water in my basement, it's been a beautiful spring.  The abundance of rain has turned my garden into a lush wonderland.  I spend this morning pulling weeds enjoying the misty morning air as dark rolling clouds painted the sky.  Weeding was easy because the roots have never had the need to search for moisture.  As I knelt amongst the bud-laden peonies and baptista, I took notice of how my garden has matured.  It started as a meager perennial bed mainly composed of discount and shared plants from neighbors and friends.  I designed the layout carefully placing each species to create interest using leaf texture, flower color, and height.  But as I viewed my garden this morning, I noticed how several plants have moved.  Yes, moved.  Basically, they've stopped growing where I'd placed them in the soil and spread filling in new areas of the garden.  I realized that not only did my garden have a mind of its own, but it had created a better layout than my original plan.

My writing is similar to my gardening.  I design a plot, create characters, and draw interest by laying themes but the story takes on a life of its own.  Characters do things I never would have planned, themes pop-up through symbolism and plots go astray.  Yet, somehow, my words evolve into a beautifully constructed story.  In my garden, I plant plants.  Some die, some move but some flourish as planned.  In my writing, I use words.  Some are cut during the editing, some become more poetic during the rewrite and some were perfect the first time around.

I feel this is true of all art forms and I wonder, do we create art or does art create us?

Savasana

Wow, spring is in full bloom and I find myself being pulled in ALL directions.  Gardening, writing, editing, query letters, conferences, local events, painting, bake sales, plant sales, and the usual plotting and planning!  I'm exhausted--I'm starting to loose focus.  And then I found the answer.  I began practicing the art of Yoga.  I've only attended two classes but I learned about a pose called Savasana.  Each yoga class has ended by dimming the lights and laying in a corpse-like pose which calms the brain and helps relieve stress.  Savasana relaxes the body, lowers blood pressure reduces headaches, fatigue and insomnia.  So while adding yoga to my already crazy schedule at first seemed like insanity, I'm learning how to relax as well as find balance and strength, and I've decided that these qualities are too important to leave out of my life.  I'm horrible at yoga but with practice I hope my body and my mind will benefit.

Perhaps try writing a scene depicting a character's mental tenacity as it remands stoic among a setting of chaos.  What physical ques would the character reflect?  What sources would the character draw upon?  Past experience, faith, serenity of mind, beauty of nature?  What do you draw upon?

Cultural Inspiration

I LOVE to travel. Some of my fondest childhood memories are family vacations spent exploring Yellowstone, the Black Hills, the Northern Pacific Coast, Northern Saskatchewan, and the historical sites of Virginia, Maryland, and D.C. area.  My dad lived by the credo, "driving is the only way to truly see the land". Only once did he abandoned the car for a plane, and I believe if he could have found a way to drive to Hawaii, I never would have experienced air travel--at least not until I started discovering the world on my own during my college years.

Air travel is my primary method of travel these days only because I'm caught by the crazy American lifestyle which binds me with time constraints, but I long to re-experience the driving vacation. There is a truth to becoming part of the vacation, to immerse yourself into a different culture and view the world through new eyes.

I've recently returned from my annual trek to Cabo, Mexico.  Each year I try to experience a different aspect of the uniquely Cabo culture.  This year, because of my new low light camera lens, I focused on the celestial majesty that makes this region famous.  I still have much to learn, both about photographing night skies, and the local lore, but I'd say, I managed to capture a good sense of the magic.

This desire of mine to become completely immersed into a different culture is what drove me to study anthropology.  During the summer of my sophomore year of college I journeyed to Belize to work on an archaeological dig. Working in such an exotic environment made me realize that even though it maybe fun to do touristy things--living and truly experiencing a different culture is life changing.

The acute observations I gain by traveling in this manor expands my awareness of my own culture and beliefs as well as enlightens me to the host culture, giving me great insight which I incorporate into my writing.  We are all connected and yet different.

A friend recently introduced me to an adventure travel group whose main focus is the cultural experience; Wild Women Expeditions is a female based travel group I would love to join.  Maybe they could help me to fulfill my dream of indulging in an African Safari or enlightening me with the ancient rituals of Bali.  Even their Icelandic Pony adventure would combine both my love of horses and my need to learn about other cultures.

Nothing compares with my love of travel.  Photographing my experience as well as writing has helped me to relive my journeys even when I am bound to my computer as home.

Fall BREAK

The trees outside my window are telling me it's autumn, but the type of falling I've been doing lately has nothing to do with the changing season.  Somehow, I've managed to overextend myself, and the one thing suffering the most is my writing.  I started this blog to keep track of my creative endeavors, but slowly is has evolved into something different.

I have decided to take a break from this site in order to reconnect with my writing.  Next month is November and there is no better way to focus on writing than joining NaNoWriMo.  I'm not sure when I will return to this blog site, but you can still find me on facebook administering over one of my latest project, N Power Art, which as much as I'd love to step away from it, it's still in its infancy and need constant attention if it is to flourish.  I believe in the concept behind N Power Art and wish for its success.  Too often creativity is killed by the bitterness of the dog-eat-dog market.  I hope N Power Art will be a beckon of light, a sanctuary from the negativity where all Nebraskan artists can work together inspiring art and helping each other.

Finally, the Buffalo Jump Mystery.  I am hoping that one of my co-conspirators will over see the project but if not, I may move the postings to a blog of its own.

Until I return, look for photo postings on google+, occasional blogs on the WritersVibe and administrative postings on N Power Art.

The Secret Treasure of Buffalo Jump

Archaeological student at Nebraska's Badlands

Almost twenty years ago, a novice group of archaeological students enrolled for field-school through the University of Nebraska.  The course seemed innocent enough but soon those thirteen students learned that the Badlands of Western Nebraska are no ordinary place.  The following is an account of their summer field-school.  Names have been changed, details are embellished, but most of the facts are accurate because I was one of those students.


Somewhere near Crawford Nebraska 600 bodies mysteriously died.  Many expert archaeologists have theorized about the origin of the Hudson Meng bonebed but in 1996 thirteen students made a discovery which science isn't willing to explain.  I have been sworn under oath of death to remain silent about what was discovered that summer.  I can, however, disclose a grand scheme of clues which will be left with the bodies of, at least but not limited to, three of the students.  If you are interested in solving the mystery, continue to check this blog and my facebook page for further details.  We are still working on our next course of action--unsure of how to continue but we have decided that the treasure should belong to the world.  It is not ours to keep.

Magic of Friendship

I share a special bond with my eight year old niece and so, when she told me how one of the girls in her class had publicly announced, 'My Little Ponies are stupid', I knew she was crushed by the possibly purposeful comment. Together, my niece and I have watched every episode of the Lauren Faust creation, enjoying our favorite pony characters as they discover the Magic of Friendship (a lesson I think most girls her age could benefit from).

I am blessed with a handful of close - true friends and my niece knows how important they are to me.  She longs to find deep meaningful friendships of her own but so often she faces catty negativity.

OK, in all fairness, I am a product of Generation X so I may be filled with sarcasm and have a bad habit of finding everything -- especially inappropriate things humorous but, I have compassion, and so does my niece.  I hope she will remain the kindhearted, spirited, girl I love.  May she empower her passion for life, art and nature and not hide it to gain popularity.  After all, true friends love us for who we are.

Like the brilliantly written series, I think we all can use a little Magic of Friendship.