Synchronized Chaos November 2016: Resilience in a Capricious Universe
Caspar David Friedrich’s Wanderer above the Sea of Fog
Welcome, family and friends, to November’s issue of Synchronized Chaos Magazine. Sending honor and respect to the departed for those who celebrate Day of the Dead or Samhain, and prayers for abundance for those marking American Thanksgiving.
This month we acknowledge the unpredictable nature of our lives, and our world, and honor our ability to survive within it by toughening up or adapting to change.
Art from Rui Carvalho also plays with the idea of childhood, with an intricate black and white rendition of a fairy with a child’s face. Childhood is full of rapid change and events outside of the young person’s control, but also the capacity to adapt to new circumstances.
Poetry from Mark Schwartz, replete with intellectual and literary references, depicts the author’s active mental life while his body is confined in a nursing home recovering from an injury. He advocates a kinder society where we nurture and take care of everyone, no matter how useful, or not, they may seem to those in charge.
Elizabeth Hughes reviews Rita D’Orazio’s novel Legend of the Coco Palms Resort, a tale of ghosts, memory, romance and suspense set on a Hawaiian vacation lodge, in her monthly Book Periscope column.
Writing, creating art and communicating can be a means of resilience, of understanding and making something out of random or challenging circumstances. We thank you for reading the words of our contributors and allowing their stories to last and be heard.
Barking dogs all friends not
My bitten flesh his poisoned teeth
Iago my plague everywhere
France first massacred St. Bartholomew
Statecraft of duplicity scheming dark
Machiavellian my Italian downfall a fool
Othello slew Desdemona, naive my genius
Unallowed conscience fo’r mach four test
Tongue his, a boneless strong
To break enough a heart
Lawyer he of mistakes own
Jehovah he other mistakes judge
Hates, spending clock
Wise your correct him
Unless, learn to face own
Shadow see in others Continue reading →
The swirling dark eddies of the stream must have been some form of invitation to the padding of the child’s feet. There was a rustle followed by a splash while the house with its dim lights slept. That is all I want to say about that, for some acts are not a matter of pride.
Once, I noticed a basket with two small white eggs, early vestiges of spring. Then I saw a dove sitting on those eggs the next day. A wind swept through and swiped mother and hatched fledglings off their surface, smashing them on the ground. Such is the way of the whirlwind sometimes; it is unexpected and seems to move by its own purpose. People often call me the bad guy, but I am not sure that is treating the narrative properly.
The child with padding feet belonged to Joe Bell, the premier attorney in the county. I should know, for I have been scoping this area out for centuries. Joe Bell put the upright in upright citizen and was the guest speaker for many prayerful occasions. Such meetings always make my skin crawl.