The toil of the wordsmith is to entice the muses in the hopes of attaining inspiration. And if the muses be not enticed, then to hunt after inspiration into the guts and marrow.
In human braveries resides the writer.
The art of communication is more than words. In our acts is formed our culture. In our culture is found the ultimate form of communication: our legacy.
Culture (from the Latin origin: cultura) has improved in its original meaning from “the tilling of land” to something far more profound.
In the soul, culture means to dig and prepare the soil of my character, thereby elevating my spirit.
Culture is the reliability of who I was, who I am, who I will be.
My culture is from the earth, and is inherent to the ground.
I live in the soil of my soul.
It is in the soil of my emotions where my thoughts, speech, actions, and artifacts exist.
From the richness of my soul’s dust, I transmit my culture to successors.
The heart of Love; the freedom of Truth; the eternity of Life—these are the precepts of the culture of me.
The culture of me is a culture of peace, where happiness is pursued and love is hoped for. It is a place where communication is always welcome and ideas are exchanged.
At the center of my culture lives a garden in the glory of bloom. Amongst the flora and young branch lives the poet and the dreamer, the beginning and the child, the creation and the yet to come.
A good story is clarity—the sharper the focus on the characters and plot, the better the story.
I live a focused life in the middle of a chaotic world, trying to determine what’s more important: the next scene of my lead character or whether I can get away with not paying the light bill until next week.
It’s a problem of heart and desire.
When you lose all the things that meant anything to you, the answers you’ve come up with in your life suddenly become questions.
Over and over, I recall the enormity of all that I lost in one dark month—November, 2010.
Losing two Mrs. Bolados is more than any man can live through.
What does that make me—a man who has lost so much and still lives?
I like the rain, but hate getting wet; I like ice cream, but better if it’s melted; I love viewing the sunset, but hate having to wait all day for it; I have a beautiful two story house in town but live mostly at Rene’s house—I am this evolving mystery that is impossible to solve.
My work and this blog are my life’s story.
This is my Author Culture
Feel free to enter and speak from your philosophy.
My culture is serene, and you are always welcome there.
Author of Publius: Libertas Aut Mors & Sword and the Pythia