Podcasts about recalling

Recalling the first day of the war with Iran is still traumatic for journalist and activist Anat Saragusti, whose apartment building in central Tel Aviv began to shake as she ran to seek shelter from Iranian missiles targeting the city following the U.S.-Israel attack that morning. "I didn't believe my eyes," she says of what awaited her when she returned. "The whole living room was covered with broken glass - the carpets, the sofa, the chairs - all over. It was really so scary." Matching the shattering of the glass in her home, said Saragusti, who monitors press freedom at the Union of Journalists in Israel, is the ongoing shattering of her trust in Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu's government as the war continues, and her dissatisfaction with what she views as an overly-compliant media. Most Israelis, Saragusti said on the Haaretz Podcast, are "glued to television screens" where retired IDF generals spout military facts and statistics. "There is no room for alternative voices, questions or doubts" regarding the war and "what the end game will be." "They promised us in the last war in Iran in June that we destroyed the majority of the infrastructure for the ballistic missiles and the nuclear plan of Iran. Then in nine months, [Iran rebuilt] everything from scratch? I don't understand that. I feel that they are lying to us." Read more: Op-ed by Anat Sargusti: Israeli Broadcasters Don Uniforms as the Media Becomes an Arm of the Military Follow the latest updates from Haaretz on the U.S.-Israel war on Iran One Killed, Two Wounded in Central Israel Following Iranian Missile Barrage, Emergency Services Say 'You Can't Live by the Sword': Israeli TV's Tel Aviv Street Interview Backfires Iran's Cluster Missiles: What You Need to Know About the Controversial Weapon Targeting IsraelSee omnystudio.com/listener for privacy information.

If you've ever wondered where your wheat flour is coming from, who is milling it (and how), or how it came to be such an important staple, then this episode might be for you. Dr. Rebecca Sharpless speaks with host Scott Catey about People of the Wheat: Culture and Cultivation in North Texas (U Texas Press, 2026). This book examines the history of wheat in the six counties of the North Texas wheat belt, and how wheat growing, milling, and baking shaped the people and culture there. In the national imaginary, America's amber fields of grain lie in the country's center, but for more than a century, they also grew across one pocket of the South: North Texas. From the 1840s to the 1970s, the state's agriculture, dominated in lore by cotton in the east and livestock in the open range, was heavily invested in the cultivation, processing, sale, and consumption of wheat. Recalling a forgotten history, Rebecca Sharpless shows how the rhythms of the wheat harvest—and the evolution of the milling, distribution, and baking industries—governed daily life in what is now known as the Dallas–Fort Worth Metroplex. In the 1840s, Anglo settlers discovered that grain flourished in North Texas and quickly built an economy that included wheat in fields, mills, and kitchens. After the Civil War, hand labor gave way to mechanization, greatly increasing production. Commercial bakeries churned out novel confections, and big cities were built on the bounty of the countryside. In the second half of the twentieth century, as production moved northward, industrial milling and baking declined, but home baking boomed, flour advertising supported regional music, and wheat fortunes financed the region's cultural life. Sharpless covers 150 years of wheat's very human history and shows how the labor that cultivated it, the sustenance it provided, and the prosperity it generated left an indelible mark on the people and institutions of Texas. Dr. Rebecca Sharpless is a Professor of History at Texas Christian University. She specializes in Gender & Sexuality, Texas History, and American History. She is the author of three previous books: Grain and Fire: A History of Baking in the American South (2022); Cooking in Other Women's Kitchens: Domestic Workers in the South, 1865-1960 (2010); and Fertile Ground, Narrow Choices: Women on Texas Cotton Farms, 1900-1940 (1999). Dr. Scott Catey is founder of The Catey Creative Group, LLC. and host of the podcast The Sum of All Wisdom. Website here Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices Support our show by becoming a premium member! https://newbooksnetwork.supportingcast.fm/new-books-network

If you've ever wondered where your wheat flour is coming from, who is milling it (and how), or how it came to be such an important staple, then this episode might be for you. Dr. Rebecca Sharpless speaks with host Scott Catey about People of the Wheat: Culture and Cultivation in North Texas (U Texas Press, 2026). This book examines the history of wheat in the six counties of the North Texas wheat belt, and how wheat growing, milling, and baking shaped the people and culture there. In the national imaginary, America's amber fields of grain lie in the country's center, but for more than a century, they also grew across one pocket of the South: North Texas. From the 1840s to the 1970s, the state's agriculture, dominated in lore by cotton in the east and livestock in the open range, was heavily invested in the cultivation, processing, sale, and consumption of wheat. Recalling a forgotten history, Rebecca Sharpless shows how the rhythms of the wheat harvest—and the evolution of the milling, distribution, and baking industries—governed daily life in what is now known as the Dallas–Fort Worth Metroplex. In the 1840s, Anglo settlers discovered that grain flourished in North Texas and quickly built an economy that included wheat in fields, mills, and kitchens. After the Civil War, hand labor gave way to mechanization, greatly increasing production. Commercial bakeries churned out novel confections, and big cities were built on the bounty of the countryside. In the second half of the twentieth century, as production moved northward, industrial milling and baking declined, but home baking boomed, flour advertising supported regional music, and wheat fortunes financed the region's cultural life. Sharpless covers 150 years of wheat's very human history and shows how the labor that cultivated it, the sustenance it provided, and the prosperity it generated left an indelible mark on the people and institutions of Texas. Dr. Rebecca Sharpless is a Professor of History at Texas Christian University. She specializes in Gender & Sexuality, Texas History, and American History. She is the author of three previous books: Grain and Fire: A History of Baking in the American South (2022); Cooking in Other Women's Kitchens: Domestic Workers in the South, 1865-1960 (2010); and Fertile Ground, Narrow Choices: Women on Texas Cotton Farms, 1900-1940 (1999). Dr. Scott Catey is founder of The Catey Creative Group, LLC. and host of the podcast The Sum of All Wisdom. Website here Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices Support our show by becoming a premium member! https://newbooksnetwork.supportingcast.fm/history

If you've ever wondered where your wheat flour is coming from, who is milling it (and how), or how it came to be such an important staple, then this episode might be for you. Dr. Rebecca Sharpless speaks with host Scott Catey about People of the Wheat: Culture and Cultivation in North Texas (U Texas Press, 2026). This book examines the history of wheat in the six counties of the North Texas wheat belt, and how wheat growing, milling, and baking shaped the people and culture there. In the national imaginary, America's amber fields of grain lie in the country's center, but for more than a century, they also grew across one pocket of the South: North Texas. From the 1840s to the 1970s, the state's agriculture, dominated in lore by cotton in the east and livestock in the open range, was heavily invested in the cultivation, processing, sale, and consumption of wheat. Recalling a forgotten history, Rebecca Sharpless shows how the rhythms of the wheat harvest—and the evolution of the milling, distribution, and baking industries—governed daily life in what is now known as the Dallas–Fort Worth Metroplex. In the 1840s, Anglo settlers discovered that grain flourished in North Texas and quickly built an economy that included wheat in fields, mills, and kitchens. After the Civil War, hand labor gave way to mechanization, greatly increasing production. Commercial bakeries churned out novel confections, and big cities were built on the bounty of the countryside. In the second half of the twentieth century, as production moved northward, industrial milling and baking declined, but home baking boomed, flour advertising supported regional music, and wheat fortunes financed the region's cultural life. Sharpless covers 150 years of wheat's very human history and shows how the labor that cultivated it, the sustenance it provided, and the prosperity it generated left an indelible mark on the people and institutions of Texas. Dr. Rebecca Sharpless is a Professor of History at Texas Christian University. She specializes in Gender & Sexuality, Texas History, and American History. She is the author of three previous books: Grain and Fire: A History of Baking in the American South (2022); Cooking in Other Women's Kitchens: Domestic Workers in the South, 1865-1960 (2010); and Fertile Ground, Narrow Choices: Women on Texas Cotton Farms, 1900-1940 (1999). Dr. Scott Catey is founder of The Catey Creative Group, LLC. and host of the podcast The Sum of All Wisdom. Website here Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices Support our show by becoming a premium member! https://newbooksnetwork.supportingcast.fm/food

If you've ever wondered where your wheat flour is coming from, who is milling it (and how), or how it came to be such an important staple, then this episode might be for you. Dr. Rebecca Sharpless speaks with host Scott Catey about People of the Wheat: Culture and Cultivation in North Texas (U Texas Press, 2026). This book examines the history of wheat in the six counties of the North Texas wheat belt, and how wheat growing, milling, and baking shaped the people and culture there. In the national imaginary, America's amber fields of grain lie in the country's center, but for more than a century, they also grew across one pocket of the South: North Texas. From the 1840s to the 1970s, the state's agriculture, dominated in lore by cotton in the east and livestock in the open range, was heavily invested in the cultivation, processing, sale, and consumption of wheat. Recalling a forgotten history, Rebecca Sharpless shows how the rhythms of the wheat harvest—and the evolution of the milling, distribution, and baking industries—governed daily life in what is now known as the Dallas–Fort Worth Metroplex. In the 1840s, Anglo settlers discovered that grain flourished in North Texas and quickly built an economy that included wheat in fields, mills, and kitchens. After the Civil War, hand labor gave way to mechanization, greatly increasing production. Commercial bakeries churned out novel confections, and big cities were built on the bounty of the countryside. In the second half of the twentieth century, as production moved northward, industrial milling and baking declined, but home baking boomed, flour advertising supported regional music, and wheat fortunes financed the region's cultural life. Sharpless covers 150 years of wheat's very human history and shows how the labor that cultivated it, the sustenance it provided, and the prosperity it generated left an indelible mark on the people and institutions of Texas. Dr. Rebecca Sharpless is a Professor of History at Texas Christian University. She specializes in Gender & Sexuality, Texas History, and American History. She is the author of three previous books: Grain and Fire: A History of Baking in the American South (2022); Cooking in Other Women's Kitchens: Domestic Workers in the South, 1865-1960 (2010); and Fertile Ground, Narrow Choices: Women on Texas Cotton Farms, 1900-1940 (1999). Dr. Scott Catey is founder of The Catey Creative Group, LLC. and host of the podcast The Sum of All Wisdom. Website here Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices Support our show by becoming a premium member! https://newbooksnetwork.supportingcast.fm/science-technology-and-society

If you've ever wondered where your wheat flour is coming from, who is milling it (and how), or how it came to be such an important staple, then this episode might be for you. Dr. Rebecca Sharpless speaks with host Scott Catey about People of the Wheat: Culture and Cultivation in North Texas (U Texas Press, 2026). This book examines the history of wheat in the six counties of the North Texas wheat belt, and how wheat growing, milling, and baking shaped the people and culture there. In the national imaginary, America's amber fields of grain lie in the country's center, but for more than a century, they also grew across one pocket of the South: North Texas. From the 1840s to the 1970s, the state's agriculture, dominated in lore by cotton in the east and livestock in the open range, was heavily invested in the cultivation, processing, sale, and consumption of wheat. Recalling a forgotten history, Rebecca Sharpless shows how the rhythms of the wheat harvest—and the evolution of the milling, distribution, and baking industries—governed daily life in what is now known as the Dallas–Fort Worth Metroplex. In the 1840s, Anglo settlers discovered that grain flourished in North Texas and quickly built an economy that included wheat in fields, mills, and kitchens. After the Civil War, hand labor gave way to mechanization, greatly increasing production. Commercial bakeries churned out novel confections, and big cities were built on the bounty of the countryside. In the second half of the twentieth century, as production moved northward, industrial milling and baking declined, but home baking boomed, flour advertising supported regional music, and wheat fortunes financed the region's cultural life. Sharpless covers 150 years of wheat's very human history and shows how the labor that cultivated it, the sustenance it provided, and the prosperity it generated left an indelible mark on the people and institutions of Texas. Dr. Rebecca Sharpless is a Professor of History at Texas Christian University. She specializes in Gender & Sexuality, Texas History, and American History. She is the author of three previous books: Grain and Fire: A History of Baking in the American South (2022); Cooking in Other Women's Kitchens: Domestic Workers in the South, 1865-1960 (2010); and Fertile Ground, Narrow Choices: Women on Texas Cotton Farms, 1900-1940 (1999). Dr. Scott Catey is founder of The Catey Creative Group, LLC. and host of the podcast The Sum of All Wisdom. Website here Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices Support our show by becoming a premium member! https://newbooksnetwork.supportingcast.fm/american-south

As an old world order cracks, these fissures demand that we each re-align our values and find clarity within the chaos. Delving into the images and words contained within Sebastiáo Salgado's opus, I was reminded of a landmark book in my life, The Giver, by Lois Lowry. I will briefly summarize its narrative to explain why it has become important to mention it. The Salgado volume I share today has a propitious title: Uncertain Grace, and combined with the words of Eduardo Galeano, who wrote the preface, and Fred Ritchin, who penned the conclusion, I hope to highlight the importance of memory, of our shared past and common humanity, as valuable tools to withstand the uncertainty and fear we encounter at this historical crossroads.

Jamie Uyeyama and Greg Flammang reflect on the life and coaching career of former Notre Dame head coach Lou Holtz, who passed away on Wednesday at the age of 89. They share some of their greatest memories and moments from his time at Notre Dame, what his legacy meant to the University, and where things are today. Sign up for IrishSportsDaily.com: https://irishsportsdaily.com/subscribeWebsite: https://irishsportsdaily.com/Twitter: https://twitter.com/ISDUpdateInstagram: https://www.instagram.com/irishsportsdaily/Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/IrishSportsDailyOfficial YouTube channel of IrishSportsDaily.com, a Notre Dame community. The most trusted Fighting Irish source for Notre Dame Football, Baseball, Basketball and all recruiting information. Subscribe to watch our weekly Notre Dame podcasts: Power Hour with Mike Frank and Hit & Hustle with Greg Flammang and Jamie Uyeyama! A Special Thanks to ESQ:Looking to upgrade your wardrobe?Founded by ND alum and longtime ISD board member Ge Wang, you've seen ESQ's custom clothing on all of your favorite players and coaches. With over a decade of making the best bespoke clothing available, ESQ will help you look and feel your best in 2024. From a perfect fitting suit or sport coat, shirt or bomber jacket - or that perfect tuxedo for wedding season, check out esqclothing.com and book an appointment to upgrade your wardrobe today. Mention ISD and get 10% off your entire purchase.ESQClothing.com #notredame #notredamefootball #ndfootball #goirish #fightingirish

A Ghostly Plea For Appreciation.Based on a post by SandyMarl, in 4 parts. Listen to the ► Podcast at Steamy Stories.A Christmas Ghost Story For ScroogeDana got ready to roll the movie as The Chix settled in. “What’s the movie?” asked McNally.“A Christmas Carol, it’s the classic tale by Charles Dickens.”“Damn. Not a Christmas movie? Did I ever mention that I am so over Christmas right now? Bah Humbug!”Annie snorted, “McNally, you make a better Scrooge than Patrick Stewart.”“I’ll drink to that,” McNally said as she tipped her stemware to wash down a handful of popcorn. “Let me say it again, Merry Fucking Christmas, because I am so done with Christmas.”“Merry Fucking Christmas” was echoed around the room, followed by giggles among gathered good friends as the opening scene played.Annie was dabbing at her eyes as Tiny Tim cried out in the movie’s final scene, “God bless us, everyone!”As the credits rolled, Annie turned to McNally, “Well, Ebenezer Scrooge, do you still hate Christmas? Or did the ghost of Christmas Future shake you from your Bah Humbug! ways?”“I don’t hate Christmas; I just get worn out by this time of year. Christmas has been going on since before Halloween and that’s way too long, even for a vibrant spirit like me,” replied McNally.“Are you still so entrenched in your ‘Bah Humbug’ world-weary ways Ebenezer McNally or is it possible that visitations of the cinematic Ghost of Christmas Past, Present and Future have softened your hardened holiday heart?” pried Patricia.“Don’t be picking on McNally, she’s just been more emotionally honest. I have heard Scrooge speaking through all of you. Chix, take a look inside and tell me if Christmas hasn’t lost its magic for all of us this year, or for that matter, several years running.” Dana’s call for introspection brought the room to silence.Dana continued, “Let me play Ghost of Christmas Past; let me take us back to time when we were young, and Sander and I stretched our budget and bought this cabin and had The Chix and their boys up here around Christmas time? Remember those times?”“Those were the good days,” recalled McNally. “I remember Orlando mixing exotic cocktails for everyone to try. The guys kept making sweet drinks and urging us girls to taste one new one after another. I’m sure they were in cahoots, working on the theory that 'Christmas candy is dandy, but liquor is quicker.’”Patricia chimed in, “Yeah, I remember that year, I remember laughing a lot of silly laughs and being chased around the cabin and out into the snow by three horny abominable snowmen until I finally let one catch me and haul me off to his lair where he threw me on the bed and ravaged me.”“I sort of remember that too - only I think I enjoyed Orlando’s cocktails too much too soon to fully remember every detail. But I have a vague memory of laughing on my way to a strange bed as I hung over Nelson’s shoulder as I pounded on his back as a captured maiden, but not really feeling much distress. I remember trying to help Nelson undress me, but I was too giggly, so he just ripped my clothes off.”Dana reminisced, “Anybody remember the year we all wore those sexy Santa’s Naughty Elf costumes?”“I still have mine in a closet somewhere I think,” snickered McNally. “We put on a pretty good show for the guys that one year when we performed in those outfits. Thanks to Annie for sewing them,” McNally tipped her glass toward Annie.“It was your choreography McNally, and your audacious moves that gave me the confidence to bump and grind along with the rest of the Chix. I’d never have been able to even think of doing something so feminine and sexy if it weren’t for you McNally,” complimented Patricia.“I still get wet every time I hear Eartha Kitt sing 'Santa Baby’ and I think of how hot we Chix looked and how mercilessly we teased those boys,” chuckled McNally.“Speaking for me,” said Patricia, “I’d say all of that dance practice and the sexy dance tips from everyone else showing me how to strut my wares. Our sexy little routine was well worth it a little later that night.” All The Chix giggled and nodded with Patricia, each recalling the thrill of having their men rush the stage and cart off the four costumed naughty little helper elves for a roll in the sheets.“Dana are you sure you’re alright with us bringing up these memories?” asked Annie in a cautious tone.“Annie, I’ve already told you that good memories and present friends are what are important to me tonight.”“Allow me to play the Ghost of Christmas Present,” said Dana in a soft voice. “If the Ghost of Christmas Past has drawn for you scenes of past holiday lovers, good times and Christmas cheer; what do you see when the Ghost of Christmas Present hovers above your lives tonight and points to your actions and attitudes of this present Christmas?”The Chix again sat thinking in silence.McNally answered Dana’s challenge first, “Well, I’ve already told everyone my grim view of this present Christmas. There is a poverty of spirit where I operate; Christmas has become nothing but joyless deadlines for me. I’ll confess, 'Bah Humbug!’ is truly what the Ghost of Christmas Present is pointing at in my life.”“Or would Scrooge use a more contemporary phrase, maybe something like 'Merry Fucking Christmas?” needled Patricia.“Yeah but…” Annie joined in, “…Those really were Merry Fucking Christmases in the past - literally. Those years when we all used to come up here with our hubbies and enjoy playing games and cooking together, remember? And it seems like every night ended in a night of passionate love making,” she added wistfully. “Why did we let that slip away? Where did the holiday love magic go?"I have a confession too, McNally has nothing on me, I’m just as much of a Bah Humbug personality as McNally - if not more so. Only I’m just a Scrooge still in the closet. I guess it’s time I came out to my friends. It was me who first suggested that I’d be ready to exchange Nelson for someone to clean my house. Honestly, how Scrooge-like is that?"The Ghost of Christmas Past showed that Scrooge rejected his old flame, Belle, to pursue a respectable wealthy status above love. Like Scrooge, I’ve let the passion for my old flame, Nelson dim, and for what? A respectable status of a well cleaned house? I’ve been saying 'Bah Humbug!’ from inside my Scrooge closet."I chided McNally for her poor attitude when we first drove up this afternoon,” recalled Patricia. “But then I fell right in with her complaining about my grueling holiday schedule and all I had endured. So, I guess that makes me not only a Scrooge, but a hypocrite as well. How’s that for a bare-bones confession to the Ghost of Christmas Present?" Dana’s Christmas Ghost"Excuse me,” declared a mildly irritated McNally, “enough indulging in this group psychotherapy playing with literary ghosts. I can’t stand it any longer, I’ve gotta find out from Dana if Sander’s ghost is really visiting us here.”McNally’s abrupt demand brought a heavy hush to the room.All eyes were locked on Dana. “All I can say is that I came up to our cabin for the first time since the accident. I hoped I was ready, but I wasn’t sure. The real reason that I invited everyone to join me was so I couldn’t back out, even if I wanted to, since I had extended an invitation to The Chix. Patricia, Annie, McNally; you’re my insurance as I forced myself to be a brave widow."I came two days ago for solitude. I thought I would be alone up here. I hoped I’d be brave enough to finally be alone with my thoughts. I was going to force myself to stay here until reinforcements arrived in the form of a carload of wild, raucous and fun-loving Chix."To my surprise, I had it all wrong. I was not alone here. Sander was waiting for me. It was good to find him here; he has been a comfort for me. I told him I was sorry for making him wait. He let me know that he understood why I waited. He assured me that it was alright for me to wait, coming only after I was ready."When Sander came to me the first night, he comforted me, bringing good memories of us in this place, like the Ghost of Christmas Past. He reacquainted me with faded memories of Patricia and Will, Annie and Nelson and McNally and Orlando all gathered in this place with me and Sander back in those days at the beginning. The images he brought to me made me feel grateful for all of you."I told Sander that those were lovely, warm memories, some of the best; but that they were far in the dim past. When Sander wrapped those memories around me; I felt warmth and saw a radiating brightness, happy for what we had once shared together. He said that that is why he had to brighten them for me; otherwise, neither I nor anyone else in those images would be able to clearly see them as they once were."I began to cry as those bright images of our past passions and fellowship with our friends began to fade before my eyes. I cried even more at the fear of losing him and everything good once again."He warned me that squandered time, tyranny of the mundane and careless love will steal from the human soul, draining the treasures of passion and good memories, leaving murky, pathetic sketches in place of those forgotten treasures. Sander let me know that I still had all of you wrapped around me to shield me with love. He was pleased that The Chix had taken such good care of me after he was taken from me."Sander told me he could not keep the past images bright, the power to do so was only given to the realm of the living."I cried in my grief and in my fresh fear of loss. I tried to hold him, but of course, I could not. I pleaded, 'How can I keep those memories of you and warm feelings bright?’ I didn’t know how to find the power to keep from losing all that was meaningful to me. I cried, 'Please Sander, show me, show me how not to lose you and everything again. Don’t let me drain away into the murky darkness where all warmth and love have been stolen from the human soul.’"I cried, kneeling on the floor. Sander said nothing as he stood close to me as a kind and gentle spirit with a comforting patience waiting for me to finish my hot tears. When I wiped away my tears and looked into his face, he pointed and guided me to look for my answer. I saw The Chix checking their messages, returning calls, checking their calendars trying to squeeze in a meeting, an appointment and a Christmas cookie exchange. I saw that we were rushing to the shopping mall, ordering online, checking our phones and returning home exhausted, drained of warmth and love, leaving nothing for those around us."I was shown Will, Nelson and Orlando taking the cars in for servicing because it was time. I saw these men checking their messages and making out-of-the way runs to pick up store items and a few groceries because their wives had sent them a text message. I witnessed The Dix on their own initiative coming home with a takeout meal that they served to their exhausted wives and then taking out the trash the night before pickup without a reminder. The guys were up late at night, opening the bills and writing the household checks and balancing the accounts, toiling like the loyal Bob Cratchit, Scrooge’s unappreciated clerk. I had been shown Christmas Present. I was sad to have seen that exhausted misery spread to all of our present lives."I cried, 'Oh Sander, where is the joy and the love for our friends? Everyone looks so exhausted and joyless and without hope or purpose. Tell me Sander, what is going to happen to them?’ Sander looked sad and did not answer me."He began to fade into the darkness, and I begged with renewed tears, 'Sander please don’t go, please don’t leave me alone again.’ But he was gone.I crawled off the floor, lifting myself into bed and cried myself to sleep. I remembered his words, 'Squandered time, tyranny of the mundane and careless love will steal from the human soul, draining the treasures of passion and good memories and leaving murky, pathetic sketches in place of those forgotten treasures.’"When Sander slipped away from me that night, I understood that he had shown me that the same was happening to Orlando and McNally, Will and Patricia and also to Nelson and Annie. His visit was a warning. Just as I lost Sander, everyone here is facing a Christmas Future where you will discover that you’ve lost all that really matters in life."Sander came again the next night. I was glad to see him. I wanted to know if it was too late for our friends to rekindle the love that had somehow drained away. 'Please, Sander, tell me that there is yet hope for them this Christmas Season,’ I begged."He showed me some bright and warm memories from long ago, some personal and some with The Chix. He showed me those visions to let me know that I still had love and support from you guys. But I was haunted by those visions of Christmas Present that I’d been shown the night before. He was happy that I was so well cared for now. And yes, he was happy to know that I got surprised by some needed loving attention from a partridge, a turtle dove hunter and an old barnyard rooster who had a few tricks to make a French hen cackle. Yet, the peril of the bleak Christmas Present remains, unless friendship and love is cherished and attended, it too will soon perish, and I’ll see my friends fade away into murky darkness as Sander had."Again, I looked into his gentle eyes and asked, 'There is still time isn’t there? We haven’t squandered our time, it’s not too late, tell me sweetheart, there are warm and bright memories of love and affection still to be made, nourished and cherished.’ Sander smiled his warm smile of assurance that I had missed so much, and I was happy."I woke, realizing that the sun was shining off a fresh morning snowfall and I threw off my heavy quilt. I sat up in bed, remembering that on our last morning together; Sander had been working on something secret that morning before the accident. I remembered asking him, 'Sweetie buns, what are you working on the hill behind the cabin?’"He smiled that warm, smug smile of mischief on that last morning that we were together and told me, 'I’ve got a Christmas surprise to show you tonight, it has to be revealed once it is dark. So, you’ll have to wait until we finish a few runs on the slopes this afternoon.’"Of course, we never came back here together. I had forgotten about Sander’s promised secret Christmas surprise until yesterday morning. When Sander told me he had a Christmas gift waiting for me after dark, he was holding an electrical extension cord behind his back with his mischievous smile stretched across his ski slope tanned face. 'I’ll plug this in to brighten your night tonight, as a token of how you have brightened my life,’ he said. Recalling some of his last words, I jumped out of bed and checked this morning; that cord is still lying on the deck where Sander left it last year.Annie was crying, as usual, but so were Patricia and McNally.Dana reached for her purse and pulled out her phone and looked at her messages and began to text, as The Chix took a few moments to rein in their emotions and check their composure before speaking or asking Dana any questions.Annie brushed her cheeks, "Oh Dana, that is the sweetest, saddest story I’ve ever heard… Excuse me, I can’t stop weeping… I don’t even know if these are tears of joy or grief… excuse me, I don’t know what to feel or say,” she said as the flood gates reopened.Patricia felt it was her role to wade in and tidy things up and drain the emotional swamp in which they all found themselves wallowing in. “Dana, it sounds like you’ve started to find some peace after last year’s events. I am glad that you shared with us how you are coping with Sander’s passing…”“Patricia, Jesus Christ on a bicycle! Don’t be such a cold and analytical mother hen all the time for us Chix. Dana’s story is not about coping, it’s about us - all of us and all that we once had and what we might lose, including Will, Nelson and yes, Orlando too. Dana, your conversation with Sander really got to me there…” McNally paused, looking emotionally rattled.“I guess everyone can tell, your story about Sander got to me also,” said Annie after managing to dry out enough. “I feel like McNally. Dana, what you said really touched me; I don’t know what to say… Yes, I actually do, I want to say that what Sander said is right; my joy has been stolen from my soul, I feel drained inside, I have let the things I hold most dear fade away. I am Scrooge - and I’m sorry, but so are all of you.”Turning to Patricia, Annie asked, “Don’t you feel what McNally and I feel? Don’t you feel that you and I and McNally, and certainly Dana, have lost something precious? Together as The Chix, we are a sum greater the whole - and that has, or should, include our husbands. I believe Sander told Dana to warn us all before it is too late. Patricia, don’t you feel like me that we should do something before the Ghost of Christmas Future makes the vision of an estranged and murky end to all that we enjoy a grim reality?”Patricia teared up and nodded silently. Then lifting her head, she asked Dana, “Is there hope? Did Sander give you hope for us?”“There is hope. There is still love here, and where there is love, there is hope. Sander showed me that the future can be changed by what we do now. Sander showed me that there is hope for us, hope for The Chix.”“And… And… What is that hope?” asked McNally. “And… And… And I got lots of questions about you and Sander up here in this cabin, but first - that was a gripping Christmas ghost story with Sander, but it seemed kind of weird that as soon as you finished driving your emotional steamroller full speed over our sympathies that you then broke character, ignoring us to check your phone. Isn’t checking your messages part of that tyranny of the mundane that Sander warned you about? Who is so important that you were texting them rather than dealing with us in this room and our emotions?”“The Ghost or the Ghosts of Christmas Future,” was Dana’s curt, cryptic reply.“You asked about our future, you asked about hope; I don’t know exactly how to answer those questions,” said a thoughtful Dana. “But I know where I want to look for starters. There is Sander’s unrevealed Christmas surprise waiting for me - or us, on top of the hill behind the cabin. It was Sander&rsq

A Ghostly Plea For Appreciation.Based on a post by SandyMarl, in 4 parts. Listen to the ► Podcast at Steamy Stories.A Christmas Ghost Story For ScroogeDana got ready to roll the movie as The Chix settled in. “What’s the movie?” asked McNally.“A Christmas Carol, it’s the classic tale by Charles Dickens.”“Damn. Not a Christmas movie? Did I ever mention that I am so over Christmas right now? Bah Humbug!”Annie snorted, “McNally, you make a better Scrooge than Patrick Stewart.”“I’ll drink to that,” McNally said as she tipped her stemware to wash down a handful of popcorn. “Let me say it again, Merry Fucking Christmas, because I am so done with Christmas.”“Merry Fucking Christmas” was echoed around the room, followed by giggles among gathered good friends as the opening scene played.Annie was dabbing at her eyes as Tiny Tim cried out in the movie’s final scene, “God bless us, everyone!”As the credits rolled, Annie turned to McNally, “Well, Ebenezer Scrooge, do you still hate Christmas? Or did the ghost of Christmas Future shake you from your Bah Humbug! ways?”“I don’t hate Christmas; I just get worn out by this time of year. Christmas has been going on since before Halloween and that’s way too long, even for a vibrant spirit like me,” replied McNally.“Are you still so entrenched in your ‘Bah Humbug’ world-weary ways Ebenezer McNally or is it possible that visitations of the cinematic Ghost of Christmas Past, Present and Future have softened your hardened holiday heart?” pried Patricia.“Don’t be picking on McNally, she’s just been more emotionally honest. I have heard Scrooge speaking through all of you. Chix, take a look inside and tell me if Christmas hasn’t lost its magic for all of us this year, or for that matter, several years running.” Dana’s call for introspection brought the room to silence.Dana continued, “Let me play Ghost of Christmas Past; let me take us back to time when we were young, and Sander and I stretched our budget and bought this cabin and had The Chix and their boys up here around Christmas time? Remember those times?”“Those were the good days,” recalled McNally. “I remember Orlando mixing exotic cocktails for everyone to try. The guys kept making sweet drinks and urging us girls to taste one new one after another. I’m sure they were in cahoots, working on the theory that 'Christmas candy is dandy, but liquor is quicker.’”Patricia chimed in, “Yeah, I remember that year, I remember laughing a lot of silly laughs and being chased around the cabin and out into the snow by three horny abominable snowmen until I finally let one catch me and haul me off to his lair where he threw me on the bed and ravaged me.”“I sort of remember that too - only I think I enjoyed Orlando’s cocktails too much too soon to fully remember every detail. But I have a vague memory of laughing on my way to a strange bed as I hung over Nelson’s shoulder as I pounded on his back as a captured maiden, but not really feeling much distress. I remember trying to help Nelson undress me, but I was too giggly, so he just ripped my clothes off.”Dana reminisced, “Anybody remember the year we all wore those sexy Santa’s Naughty Elf costumes?”“I still have mine in a closet somewhere I think,” snickered McNally. “We put on a pretty good show for the guys that one year when we performed in those outfits. Thanks to Annie for sewing them,” McNally tipped her glass toward Annie.“It was your choreography McNally, and your audacious moves that gave me the confidence to bump and grind along with the rest of the Chix. I’d never have been able to even think of doing something so feminine and sexy if it weren’t for you McNally,” complimented Patricia.“I still get wet every time I hear Eartha Kitt sing 'Santa Baby’ and I think of how hot we Chix looked and how mercilessly we teased those boys,” chuckled McNally.“Speaking for me,” said Patricia, “I’d say all of that dance practice and the sexy dance tips from everyone else showing me how to strut my wares. Our sexy little routine was well worth it a little later that night.” All The Chix giggled and nodded with Patricia, each recalling the thrill of having their men rush the stage and cart off the four costumed naughty little helper elves for a roll in the sheets.“Dana are you sure you’re alright with us bringing up these memories?” asked Annie in a cautious tone.“Annie, I’ve already told you that good memories and present friends are what are important to me tonight.”“Allow me to play the Ghost of Christmas Present,” said Dana in a soft voice. “If the Ghost of Christmas Past has drawn for you scenes of past holiday lovers, good times and Christmas cheer; what do you see when the Ghost of Christmas Present hovers above your lives tonight and points to your actions and attitudes of this present Christmas?”The Chix again sat thinking in silence.McNally answered Dana’s challenge first, “Well, I’ve already told everyone my grim view of this present Christmas. There is a poverty of spirit where I operate; Christmas has become nothing but joyless deadlines for me. I’ll confess, 'Bah Humbug!’ is truly what the Ghost of Christmas Present is pointing at in my life.”“Or would Scrooge use a more contemporary phrase, maybe something like 'Merry Fucking Christmas?” needled Patricia.“Yeah but…” Annie joined in, “…Those really were Merry Fucking Christmases in the past - literally. Those years when we all used to come up here with our hubbies and enjoy playing games and cooking together, remember? And it seems like every night ended in a night of passionate love making,” she added wistfully. “Why did we let that slip away? Where did the holiday love magic go?"I have a confession too, McNally has nothing on me, I’m just as much of a Bah Humbug personality as McNally - if not more so. Only I’m just a Scrooge still in the closet. I guess it’s time I came out to my friends. It was me who first suggested that I’d be ready to exchange Nelson for someone to clean my house. Honestly, how Scrooge-like is that?"The Ghost of Christmas Past showed that Scrooge rejected his old flame, Belle, to pursue a respectable wealthy status above love. Like Scrooge, I’ve let the passion for my old flame, Nelson dim, and for what? A respectable status of a well cleaned house? I’ve been saying 'Bah Humbug!’ from inside my Scrooge closet."I chided McNally for her poor attitude when we first drove up this afternoon,” recalled Patricia. “But then I fell right in with her complaining about my grueling holiday schedule and all I had endured. So, I guess that makes me not only a Scrooge, but a hypocrite as well. How’s that for a bare-bones confession to the Ghost of Christmas Present?" Dana’s Christmas Ghost"Excuse me,” declared a mildly irritated McNally, “enough indulging in this group psychotherapy playing with literary ghosts. I can’t stand it any longer, I’ve gotta find out from Dana if Sander’s ghost is really visiting us here.”McNally’s abrupt demand brought a heavy hush to the room.All eyes were locked on Dana. “All I can say is that I came up to our cabin for the first time since the accident. I hoped I was ready, but I wasn’t sure. The real reason that I invited everyone to join me was so I couldn’t back out, even if I wanted to, since I had extended an invitation to The Chix. Patricia, Annie, McNally; you’re my insurance as I forced myself to be a brave widow."I came two days ago for solitude. I thought I would be alone up here. I hoped I’d be brave enough to finally be alone with my thoughts. I was going to force myself to stay here until reinforcements arrived in the form of a carload of wild, raucous and fun-loving Chix."To my surprise, I had it all wrong. I was not alone here. Sander was waiting for me. It was good to find him here; he has been a comfort for me. I told him I was sorry for making him wait. He let me know that he understood why I waited. He assured me that it was alright for me to wait, coming only after I was ready."When Sander came to me the first night, he comforted me, bringing good memories of us in this place, like the Ghost of Christmas Past. He reacquainted me with faded memories of Patricia and Will, Annie and Nelson and McNally and Orlando all gathered in this place with me and Sander back in those days at the beginning. The images he brought to me made me feel grateful for all of you."I told Sander that those were lovely, warm memories, some of the best; but that they were far in the dim past. When Sander wrapped those memories around me; I felt warmth and saw a radiating brightness, happy for what we had once shared together. He said that that is why he had to brighten them for me; otherwise, neither I nor anyone else in those images would be able to clearly see them as they once were."I began to cry as those bright images of our past passions and fellowship with our friends began to fade before my eyes. I cried even more at the fear of losing him and everything good once again."He warned me that squandered time, tyranny of the mundane and careless love will steal from the human soul, draining the treasures of passion and good memories, leaving murky, pathetic sketches in place of those forgotten treasures. Sander let me know that I still had all of you wrapped around me to shield me with love. He was pleased that The Chix had taken such good care of me after he was taken from me."Sander told me he could not keep the past images bright, the power to do so was only given to the realm of the living."I cried in my grief and in my fresh fear of loss. I tried to hold him, but of course, I could not. I pleaded, 'How can I keep those memories of you and warm feelings bright?’ I didn’t know how to find the power to keep from losing all that was meaningful to me. I cried, 'Please Sander, show me, show me how not to lose you and everything again. Don’t let me drain away into the murky darkness where all warmth and love have been stolen from the human soul.’"I cried, kneeling on the floor. Sander said nothing as he stood close to me as a kind and gentle spirit with a comforting patience waiting for me to finish my hot tears. When I wiped away my tears and looked into his face, he pointed and guided me to look for my answer. I saw The Chix checking their messages, returning calls, checking their calendars trying to squeeze in a meeting, an appointment and a Christmas cookie exchange. I saw that we were rushing to the shopping mall, ordering online, checking our phones and returning home exhausted, drained of warmth and love, leaving nothing for those around us."I was shown Will, Nelson and Orlando taking the cars in for servicing because it was time. I saw these men checking their messages and making out-of-the way runs to pick up store items and a few groceries because their wives had sent them a text message. I witnessed The Dix on their own initiative coming home with a takeout meal that they served to their exhausted wives and then taking out the trash the night before pickup without a reminder. The guys were up late at night, opening the bills and writing the household checks and balancing the accounts, toiling like the loyal Bob Cratchit, Scrooge’s unappreciated clerk. I had been shown Christmas Present. I was sad to have seen that exhausted misery spread to all of our present lives."I cried, 'Oh Sander, where is the joy and the love for our friends? Everyone looks so exhausted and joyless and without hope or purpose. Tell me Sander, what is going to happen to them?’ Sander looked sad and did not answer me."He began to fade into the darkness, and I begged with renewed tears, 'Sander please don’t go, please don’t leave me alone again.’ But he was gone.I crawled off the floor, lifting myself into bed and cried myself to sleep. I remembered his words, 'Squandered time, tyranny of the mundane and careless love will steal from the human soul, draining the treasures of passion and good memories and leaving murky, pathetic sketches in place of those forgotten treasures.’"When Sander slipped away from me that night, I understood that he had shown me that the same was happening to Orlando and McNally, Will and Patricia and also to Nelson and Annie. His visit was a warning. Just as I lost Sander, everyone here is facing a Christmas Future where you will discover that you’ve lost all that really matters in life."Sander came again the next night. I was glad to see him. I wanted to know if it was too late for our friends to rekindle the love that had somehow drained away. 'Please, Sander, tell me that there is yet hope for them this Christmas Season,’ I begged."He showed me some bright and warm memories from long ago, some personal and some with The Chix. He showed me those visions to let me know that I still had love and support from you guys. But I was haunted by those visions of Christmas Present that I’d been shown the night before. He was happy that I was so well cared for now. And yes, he was happy to know that I got surprised by some needed loving attention from a partridge, a turtle dove hunter and an old barnyard rooster who had a few tricks to make a French hen cackle. Yet, the peril of the bleak Christmas Present remains, unless friendship and love is cherished and attended, it too will soon perish, and I’ll see my friends fade away into murky darkness as Sander had."Again, I looked into his gentle eyes and asked, 'There is still time isn’t there? We haven’t squandered our time, it’s not too late, tell me sweetheart, there are warm and bright memories of love and affection still to be made, nourished and cherished.’ Sander smiled his warm smile of assurance that I had missed so much, and I was happy."I woke, realizing that the sun was shining off a fresh morning snowfall and I threw off my heavy quilt. I sat up in bed, remembering that on our last morning together; Sander had been working on something secret that morning before the accident. I remembered asking him, 'Sweetie buns, what are you working on the hill behind the cabin?’"He smiled that warm, smug smile of mischief on that last morning that we were together and told me, 'I’ve got a Christmas surprise to show you tonight, it has to be revealed once it is dark. So, you’ll have to wait until we finish a few runs on the slopes this afternoon.’"Of course, we never came back here together. I had forgotten about Sander’s promised secret Christmas surprise until yesterday morning. When Sander told me he had a Christmas gift waiting for me after dark, he was holding an electrical extension cord behind his back with his mischievous smile stretched across his ski slope tanned face. 'I’ll plug this in to brighten your night tonight, as a token of how you have brightened my life,’ he said. Recalling some of his last words, I jumped out of bed and checked this morning; that cord is still lying on the deck where Sander left it last year.Annie was crying, as usual, but so were Patricia and McNally.Dana reached for her purse and pulled out her phone and looked at her messages and began to text, as The Chix took a few moments to rein in their emotions and check their composure before speaking or asking Dana any questions.Annie brushed her cheeks, "Oh Dana, that is the sweetest, saddest story I’ve ever heard… Excuse me, I can’t stop weeping… I don’t even know if these are tears of joy or grief… excuse me, I don’t know what to feel or say,” she said as the flood gates reopened.Patricia felt it was her role to wade in and tidy things up and drain the emotional swamp in which they all found themselves wallowing in. “Dana, it sounds like you’ve started to find some peace after last year’s events. I am glad that you shared with us how you are coping with Sander’s passing…”“Patricia, Jesus Christ on a bicycle! Don’t be such a cold and analytical mother hen all the time for us Chix. Dana’s story is not about coping, it’s about us - all of us and all that we once had and what we might lose, including Will, Nelson and yes, Orlando too. Dana, your conversation with Sander really got to me there…” McNally paused, looking emotionally rattled.“I guess everyone can tell, your story about Sander got to me also,” said Annie after managing to dry out enough. “I feel like McNally. Dana, what you said really touched me; I don’t know what to say… Yes, I actually do, I want to say that what Sander said is right; my joy has been stolen from my soul, I feel drained inside, I have let the things I hold most dear fade away. I am Scrooge - and I’m sorry, but so are all of you.”Turning to Patricia, Annie asked, “Don’t you feel what McNally and I feel? Don’t you feel that you and I and McNally, and certainly Dana, have lost something precious? Together as The Chix, we are a sum greater the whole - and that has, or should, include our husbands. I believe Sander told Dana to warn us all before it is too late. Patricia, don’t you feel like me that we should do something before the Ghost of Christmas Future makes the vision of an estranged and murky end to all that we enjoy a grim reality?”Patricia teared up and nodded silently. Then lifting her head, she asked Dana, “Is there hope? Did Sander give you hope for us?”“There is hope. There is still love here, and where there is love, there is hope. Sander showed me that the future can be changed by what we do now. Sander showed me that there is hope for us, hope for The Chix.”“And… And… What is that hope?” asked McNally. “And… And… And I got lots of questions about you and Sander up here in this cabin, but first - that was a gripping Christmas ghost story with Sander, but it seemed kind of weird that as soon as you finished driving your emotional steamroller full speed over our sympathies that you then broke character, ignoring us to check your phone. Isn’t checking your messages part of that tyranny of the mundane that Sander warned you about? Who is so important that you were texting them rather than dealing with us in this room and our emotions?”“The Ghost or the Ghosts of Christmas Future,” was Dana’s curt, cryptic reply.“You asked about our future, you asked about hope; I don’t know exactly how to answer those questions,” said a thoughtful Dana. “But I know where I want to look for starters. There is Sander’s unrevealed Christmas surprise waiting for me - or us, on top of the hill behind the cabin. It was Sander&rsq

A Ghostly Plea For Appreciation.Based on a post by SandyMarl, in 4 parts. Listen to the ► Podcast at Steamy Stories.A Christmas Ghost Story For ScroogeDana got ready to roll the movie as The Chix settled in. “What’s the movie?” asked McNally.“A Christmas Carol, it’s the classic tale by Charles Dickens.”“Damn. Not a Christmas movie? Did I ever mention that I am so over Christmas right now? Bah Humbug!”Annie snorted, “McNally, you make a better Scrooge than Patrick Stewart.”“I’ll drink to that,” McNally said as she tipped her stemware to wash down a handful of popcorn. “Let me say it again, Merry Fucking Christmas, because I am so done with Christmas.”“Merry Fucking Christmas” was echoed around the room, followed by giggles among gathered good friends as the opening scene played.Annie was dabbing at her eyes as Tiny Tim cried out in the movie’s final scene, “God bless us, everyone!”As the credits rolled, Annie turned to McNally, “Well, Ebenezer Scrooge, do you still hate Christmas? Or did the ghost of Christmas Future shake you from your Bah Humbug! ways?”“I don’t hate Christmas; I just get worn out by this time of year. Christmas has been going on since before Halloween and that’s way too long, even for a vibrant spirit like me,” replied McNally.“Are you still so entrenched in your ‘Bah Humbug’ world-weary ways Ebenezer McNally or is it possible that visitations of the cinematic Ghost of Christmas Past, Present and Future have softened your hardened holiday heart?” pried Patricia.“Don’t be picking on McNally, she’s just been more emotionally honest. I have heard Scrooge speaking through all of you. Chix, take a look inside and tell me if Christmas hasn’t lost its magic for all of us this year, or for that matter, several years running.” Dana’s call for introspection brought the room to silence.Dana continued, “Let me play Ghost of Christmas Past; let me take us back to time when we were young, and Sander and I stretched our budget and bought this cabin and had The Chix and their boys up here around Christmas time? Remember those times?”“Those were the good days,” recalled McNally. “I remember Orlando mixing exotic cocktails for everyone to try. The guys kept making sweet drinks and urging us girls to taste one new one after another. I’m sure they were in cahoots, working on the theory that 'Christmas candy is dandy, but liquor is quicker.’”Patricia chimed in, “Yeah, I remember that year, I remember laughing a lot of silly laughs and being chased around the cabin and out into the snow by three horny abominable snowmen until I finally let one catch me and haul me off to his lair where he threw me on the bed and ravaged me.”“I sort of remember that too - only I think I enjoyed Orlando’s cocktails too much too soon to fully remember every detail. But I have a vague memory of laughing on my way to a strange bed as I hung over Nelson’s shoulder as I pounded on his back as a captured maiden, but not really feeling much distress. I remember trying to help Nelson undress me, but I was too giggly, so he just ripped my clothes off.”Dana reminisced, “Anybody remember the year we all wore those sexy Santa’s Naughty Elf costumes?”“I still have mine in a closet somewhere I think,” snickered McNally. “We put on a pretty good show for the guys that one year when we performed in those outfits. Thanks to Annie for sewing them,” McNally tipped her glass toward Annie.“It was your choreography McNally, and your audacious moves that gave me the confidence to bump and grind along with the rest of the Chix. I’d never have been able to even think of doing something so feminine and sexy if it weren’t for you McNally,” complimented Patricia.“I still get wet every time I hear Eartha Kitt sing 'Santa Baby’ and I think of how hot we Chix looked and how mercilessly we teased those boys,” chuckled McNally.“Speaking for me,” said Patricia, “I’d say all of that dance practice and the sexy dance tips from everyone else showing me how to strut my wares. Our sexy little routine was well worth it a little later that night.” All The Chix giggled and nodded with Patricia, each recalling the thrill of having their men rush the stage and cart off the four costumed naughty little helper elves for a roll in the sheets.“Dana are you sure you’re alright with us bringing up these memories?” asked Annie in a cautious tone.“Annie, I’ve already told you that good memories and present friends are what are important to me tonight.”“Allow me to play the Ghost of Christmas Present,” said Dana in a soft voice. “If the Ghost of Christmas Past has drawn for you scenes of past holiday lovers, good times and Christmas cheer; what do you see when the Ghost of Christmas Present hovers above your lives tonight and points to your actions and attitudes of this present Christmas?”The Chix again sat thinking in silence.McNally answered Dana’s challenge first, “Well, I’ve already told everyone my grim view of this present Christmas. There is a poverty of spirit where I operate; Christmas has become nothing but joyless deadlines for me. I’ll confess, 'Bah Humbug!’ is truly what the Ghost of Christmas Present is pointing at in my life.”“Or would Scrooge use a more contemporary phrase, maybe something like 'Merry Fucking Christmas?” needled Patricia.“Yeah but…” Annie joined in, “…Those really were Merry Fucking Christmases in the past - literally. Those years when we all used to come up here with our hubbies and enjoy playing games and cooking together, remember? And it seems like every night ended in a night of passionate love making,” she added wistfully. “Why did we let that slip away? Where did the holiday love magic go?"I have a confession too, McNally has nothing on me, I’m just as much of a Bah Humbug personality as McNally - if not more so. Only I’m just a Scrooge still in the closet. I guess it’s time I came out to my friends. It was me who first suggested that I’d be ready to exchange Nelson for someone to clean my house. Honestly, how Scrooge-like is that?"The Ghost of Christmas Past showed that Scrooge rejected his old flame, Belle, to pursue a respectable wealthy status above love. Like Scrooge, I’ve let the passion for my old flame, Nelson dim, and for what? A respectable status of a well cleaned house? I’ve been saying 'Bah Humbug!’ from inside my Scrooge closet."I chided McNally for her poor attitude when we first drove up this afternoon,” recalled Patricia. “But then I fell right in with her complaining about my grueling holiday schedule and all I had endured. So, I guess that makes me not only a Scrooge, but a hypocrite as well. How’s that for a bare-bones confession to the Ghost of Christmas Present?" Dana’s Christmas Ghost"Excuse me,” declared a mildly irritated McNally, “enough indulging in this group psychotherapy playing with literary ghosts. I can’t stand it any longer, I’ve gotta find out from Dana if Sander’s ghost is really visiting us here.”McNally’s abrupt demand brought a heavy hush to the room.All eyes were locked on Dana. “All I can say is that I came up to our cabin for the first time since the accident. I hoped I was ready, but I wasn’t sure. The real reason that I invited everyone to join me was so I couldn’t back out, even if I wanted to, since I had extended an invitation to The Chix. Patricia, Annie, McNally; you’re my insurance as I forced myself to be a brave widow."I came two days ago for solitude. I thought I would be alone up here. I hoped I’d be brave enough to finally be alone with my thoughts. I was going to force myself to stay here until reinforcements arrived in the form of a carload of wild, raucous and fun-loving Chix."To my surprise, I had it all wrong. I was not alone here. Sander was waiting for me. It was good to find him here; he has been a comfort for me. I told him I was sorry for making him wait. He let me know that he understood why I waited. He assured me that it was alright for me to wait, coming only after I was ready."When Sander came to me the first night, he comforted me, bringing good memories of us in this place, like the Ghost of Christmas Past. He reacquainted me with faded memories of Patricia and Will, Annie and Nelson and McNally and Orlando all gathered in this place with me and Sander back in those days at the beginning. The images he brought to me made me feel grateful for all of you."I told Sander that those were lovely, warm memories, some of the best; but that they were far in the dim past. When Sander wrapped those memories around me; I felt warmth and saw a radiating brightness, happy for what we had once shared together. He said that that is why he had to brighten them for me; otherwise, neither I nor anyone else in those images would be able to clearly see them as they once were."I began to cry as those bright images of our past passions and fellowship with our friends began to fade before my eyes. I cried even more at the fear of losing him and everything good once again."He warned me that squandered time, tyranny of the mundane and careless love will steal from the human soul, draining the treasures of passion and good memories, leaving murky, pathetic sketches in place of those forgotten treasures. Sander let me know that I still had all of you wrapped around me to shield me with love. He was pleased that The Chix had taken such good care of me after he was taken from me."Sander told me he could not keep the past images bright, the power to do so was only given to the realm of the living."I cried in my grief and in my fresh fear of loss. I tried to hold him, but of course, I could not. I pleaded, 'How can I keep those memories of you and warm feelings bright?’ I didn’t know how to find the power to keep from losing all that was meaningful to me. I cried, 'Please Sander, show me, show me how not to lose you and everything again. Don’t let me drain away into the murky darkness where all warmth and love have been stolen from the human soul.’"I cried, kneeling on the floor. Sander said nothing as he stood close to me as a kind and gentle spirit with a comforting patience waiting for me to finish my hot tears. When I wiped away my tears and looked into his face, he pointed and guided me to look for my answer. I saw The Chix checking their messages, returning calls, checking their calendars trying to squeeze in a meeting, an appointment and a Christmas cookie exchange. I saw that we were rushing to the shopping mall, ordering online, checking our phones and returning home exhausted, drained of warmth and love, leaving nothing for those around us."I was shown Will, Nelson and Orlando taking the cars in for servicing because it was time. I saw these men checking their messages and making out-of-the way runs to pick up store items and a few groceries because their wives had sent them a text message. I witnessed The Dix on their own initiative coming home with a takeout meal that they served to their exhausted wives and then taking out the trash the night before pickup without a reminder. The guys were up late at night, opening the bills and writing the household checks and balancing the accounts, toiling like the loyal Bob Cratchit, Scrooge’s unappreciated clerk. I had been shown Christmas Present. I was sad to have seen that exhausted misery spread to all of our present lives."I cried, 'Oh Sander, where is the joy and the love for our friends? Everyone looks so exhausted and joyless and without hope or purpose. Tell me Sander, what is going to happen to them?’ Sander looked sad and did not answer me."He began to fade into the darkness, and I begged with renewed tears, 'Sander please don’t go, please don’t leave me alone again.’ But he was gone.I crawled off the floor, lifting myself into bed and cried myself to sleep. I remembered his words, 'Squandered time, tyranny of the mundane and careless love will steal from the human soul, draining the treasures of passion and good memories and leaving murky, pathetic sketches in place of those forgotten treasures.’"When Sander slipped away from me that night, I understood that he had shown me that the same was happening to Orlando and McNally, Will and Patricia and also to Nelson and Annie. His visit was a warning. Just as I lost Sander, everyone here is facing a Christmas Future where you will discover that you’ve lost all that really matters in life."Sander came again the next night. I was glad to see him. I wanted to know if it was too late for our friends to rekindle the love that had somehow drained away. 'Please, Sander, tell me that there is yet hope for them this Christmas Season,’ I begged."He showed me some bright and warm memories from long ago, some personal and some with The Chix. He showed me those visions to let me know that I still had love and support from you guys. But I was haunted by those visions of Christmas Present that I’d been shown the night before. He was happy that I was so well cared for now. And yes, he was happy to know that I got surprised by some needed loving attention from a partridge, a turtle dove hunter and an old barnyard rooster who had a few tricks to make a French hen cackle. Yet, the peril of the bleak Christmas Present remains, unless friendship and love is cherished and attended, it too will soon perish, and I’ll see my friends fade away into murky darkness as Sander had."Again, I looked into his gentle eyes and asked, 'There is still time isn’t there? We haven’t squandered our time, it’s not too late, tell me sweetheart, there are warm and bright memories of love and affection still to be made, nourished and cherished.’ Sander smiled his warm smile of assurance that I had missed so much, and I was happy."I woke, realizing that the sun was shining off a fresh morning snowfall and I threw off my heavy quilt. I sat up in bed, remembering that on our last morning together; Sander had been working on something secret that morning before the accident. I remembered asking him, 'Sweetie buns, what are you working on the hill behind the cabin?’"He smiled that warm, smug smile of mischief on that last morning that we were together and told me, 'I’ve got a Christmas surprise to show you tonight, it has to be revealed once it is dark. So, you’ll have to wait until we finish a few runs on the slopes this afternoon.’"Of course, we never came back here together. I had forgotten about Sander’s promised secret Christmas surprise until yesterday morning. When Sander told me he had a Christmas gift waiting for me after dark, he was holding an electrical extension cord behind his back with his mischievous smile stretched across his ski slope tanned face. 'I’ll plug this in to brighten your night tonight, as a token of how you have brightened my life,’ he said. Recalling some of his last words, I jumped out of bed and checked this morning; that cord is still lying on the deck where Sander left it last year.Annie was crying, as usual, but so were Patricia and McNally.Dana reached for her purse and pulled out her phone and looked at her messages and began to text, as The Chix took a few moments to rein in their emotions and check their composure before speaking or asking Dana any questions.Annie brushed her cheeks, "Oh Dana, that is the sweetest, saddest story I’ve ever heard… Excuse me, I can’t stop weeping… I don’t even know if these are tears of joy or grief… excuse me, I don’t know what to feel or say,” she said as the flood gates reopened.Patricia felt it was her role to wade in and tidy things up and drain the emotional swamp in which they all found themselves wallowing in. “Dana, it sounds like you’ve started to find some peace after last year’s events. I am glad that you shared with us how you are coping with Sander’s passing…”“Patricia, Jesus Christ on a bicycle! Don’t be such a cold and analytical mother hen all the time for us Chix. Dana’s story is not about coping, it’s about us - all of us and all that we once had and what we might lose, including Will, Nelson and yes, Orlando too. Dana, your conversation with Sander really got to me there…” McNally paused, looking emotionally rattled.“I guess everyone can tell, your story about Sander got to me also,” said Annie after managing to dry out enough. “I feel like McNally. Dana, what you said really touched me; I don’t know what to say… Yes, I actually do, I want to say that what Sander said is right; my joy has been stolen from my soul, I feel drained inside, I have let the things I hold most dear fade away. I am Scrooge - and I’m sorry, but so are all of you.”Turning to Patricia, Annie asked, “Don’t you feel what McNally and I feel? Don’t you feel that you and I and McNally, and certainly Dana, have lost something precious? Together as The Chix, we are a sum greater the whole - and that has, or should, include our husbands. I believe Sander told Dana to warn us all before it is too late. Patricia, don’t you feel like me that we should do something before the Ghost of Christmas Future makes the vision of an estranged and murky end to all that we enjoy a grim reality?”Patricia teared up and nodded silently. Then lifting her head, she asked Dana, “Is there hope? Did Sander give you hope for us?”“There is hope. There is still love here, and where there is love, there is hope. Sander showed me that the future can be changed by what we do now. Sander showed me that there is hope for us, hope for The Chix.”“And… And… What is that hope?” asked McNally. “And… And… And I got lots of questions about you and Sander up here in this cabin, but first - that was a gripping Christmas ghost story with Sander, but it seemed kind of weird that as soon as you finished driving your emotional steamroller full speed over our sympathies that you then broke character, ignoring us to check your phone. Isn’t checking your messages part of that tyranny of the mundane that Sander warned you about? Who is so important that you were texting them rather than dealing with us in this room and our emotions?”“The Ghost or the Ghosts of Christmas Future,” was Dana’s curt, cryptic reply.“You asked about our future, you asked about hope; I don’t know exactly how to answer those questions,” said a thoughtful Dana. “But I know where I want to look for starters. There is Sander’s unrevealed Christmas surprise waiting for me - or us, on top of the hill behind the cabin. It was Sander&rsq

A Ghostly Plea For Appreciation.Based on a post by SandyMarl, in 4 parts. Listen to the ► Podcast at Steamy Stories.A Christmas Ghost Story For ScroogeDana got ready to roll the movie as The Chix settled in. “What’s the movie?” asked McNally.“A Christmas Carol, it’s the classic tale by Charles Dickens.”“Damn. Not a Christmas movie? Did I ever mention that I am so over Christmas right now? Bah Humbug!”Annie snorted, “McNally, you make a better Scrooge than Patrick Stewart.”“I’ll drink to that,” McNally said as she tipped her stemware to wash down a handful of popcorn. “Let me say it again, Merry Fucking Christmas, because I am so done with Christmas.”“Merry Fucking Christmas” was echoed around the room, followed by giggles among gathered good friends as the opening scene played.Annie was dabbing at her eyes as Tiny Tim cried out in the movie’s final scene, “God bless us, everyone!”As the credits rolled, Annie turned to McNally, “Well, Ebenezer Scrooge, do you still hate Christmas? Or did the ghost of Christmas Future shake you from your Bah Humbug! ways?”“I don’t hate Christmas; I just get worn out by this time of year. Christmas has been going on since before Halloween and that’s way too long, even for a vibrant spirit like me,” replied McNally.“Are you still so entrenched in your ‘Bah Humbug’ world-weary ways Ebenezer McNally or is it possible that visitations of the cinematic Ghost of Christmas Past, Present and Future have softened your hardened holiday heart?” pried Patricia.“Don’t be picking on McNally, she’s just been more emotionally honest. I have heard Scrooge speaking through all of you. Chix, take a look inside and tell me if Christmas hasn’t lost its magic for all of us this year, or for that matter, several years running.” Dana’s call for introspection brought the room to silence.Dana continued, “Let me play Ghost of Christmas Past; let me take us back to time when we were young, and Sander and I stretched our budget and bought this cabin and had The Chix and their boys up here around Christmas time? Remember those times?”“Those were the good days,” recalled McNally. “I remember Orlando mixing exotic cocktails for everyone to try. The guys kept making sweet drinks and urging us girls to taste one new one after another. I’m sure they were in cahoots, working on the theory that 'Christmas candy is dandy, but liquor is quicker.’”Patricia chimed in, “Yeah, I remember that year, I remember laughing a lot of silly laughs and being chased around the cabin and out into the snow by three horny abominable snowmen until I finally let one catch me and haul me off to his lair where he threw me on the bed and ravaged me.”“I sort of remember that too - only I think I enjoyed Orlando’s cocktails too much too soon to fully remember every detail. But I have a vague memory of laughing on my way to a strange bed as I hung over Nelson’s shoulder as I pounded on his back as a captured maiden, but not really feeling much distress. I remember trying to help Nelson undress me, but I was too giggly, so he just ripped my clothes off.”Dana reminisced, “Anybody remember the year we all wore those sexy Santa’s Naughty Elf costumes?”“I still have mine in a closet somewhere I think,” snickered McNally. “We put on a pretty good show for the guys that one year when we performed in those outfits. Thanks to Annie for sewing them,” McNally tipped her glass toward Annie.“It was your choreography McNally, and your audacious moves that gave me the confidence to bump and grind along with the rest of the Chix. I’d never have been able to even think of doing something so feminine and sexy if it weren’t for you McNally,” complimented Patricia.“I still get wet every time I hear Eartha Kitt sing 'Santa Baby’ and I think of how hot we Chix looked and how mercilessly we teased those boys,” chuckled McNally.“Speaking for me,” said Patricia, “I’d say all of that dance practice and the sexy dance tips from everyone else showing me how to strut my wares. Our sexy little routine was well worth it a little later that night.” All The Chix giggled and nodded with Patricia, each recalling the thrill of having their men rush the stage and cart off the four costumed naughty little helper elves for a roll in the sheets.“Dana are you sure you’re alright with us bringing up these memories?” asked Annie in a cautious tone.“Annie, I’ve already told you that good memories and present friends are what are important to me tonight.”“Allow me to play the Ghost of Christmas Present,” said Dana in a soft voice. “If the Ghost of Christmas Past has drawn for you scenes of past holiday lovers, good times and Christmas cheer; what do you see when the Ghost of Christmas Present hovers above your lives tonight and points to your actions and attitudes of this present Christmas?”The Chix again sat thinking in silence.McNally answered Dana’s challenge first, “Well, I’ve already told everyone my grim view of this present Christmas. There is a poverty of spirit where I operate; Christmas has become nothing but joyless deadlines for me. I’ll confess, 'Bah Humbug!’ is truly what the Ghost of Christmas Present is pointing at in my life.”“Or would Scrooge use a more contemporary phrase, maybe something like 'Merry Fucking Christmas?” needled Patricia.“Yeah but…” Annie joined in, “…Those really were Merry Fucking Christmases in the past - literally. Those years when we all used to come up here with our hubbies and enjoy playing games and cooking together, remember? And it seems like every night ended in a night of passionate love making,” she added wistfully. “Why did we let that slip away? Where did the holiday love magic go?"I have a confession too, McNally has nothing on me, I’m just as much of a Bah Humbug personality as McNally - if not more so. Only I’m just a Scrooge still in the closet. I guess it’s time I came out to my friends. It was me who first suggested that I’d be ready to exchange Nelson for someone to clean my house. Honestly, how Scrooge-like is that?"The Ghost of Christmas Past showed that Scrooge rejected his old flame, Belle, to pursue a respectable wealthy status above love. Like Scrooge, I’ve let the passion for my old flame, Nelson dim, and for what? A respectable status of a well cleaned house? I’ve been saying 'Bah Humbug!’ from inside my Scrooge closet."I chided McNally for her poor attitude when we first drove up this afternoon,” recalled Patricia. “But then I fell right in with her complaining about my grueling holiday schedule and all I had endured. So, I guess that makes me not only a Scrooge, but a hypocrite as well. How’s that for a bare-bones confession to the Ghost of Christmas Present?" Dana’s Christmas Ghost"Excuse me,” declared a mildly irritated McNally, “enough indulging in this group psychotherapy playing with literary ghosts. I can’t stand it any longer, I’ve gotta find out from Dana if Sander’s ghost is really visiting us here.”McNally’s abrupt demand brought a heavy hush to the room.All eyes were locked on Dana. “All I can say is that I came up to our cabin for the first time since the accident. I hoped I was ready, but I wasn’t sure. The real reason that I invited everyone to join me was so I couldn’t back out, even if I wanted to, since I had extended an invitation to The Chix. Patricia, Annie, McNally; you’re my insurance as I forced myself to be a brave widow."I came two days ago for solitude. I thought I would be alone up here. I hoped I’d be brave enough to finally be alone with my thoughts. I was going to force myself to stay here until reinforcements arrived in the form of a carload of wild, raucous and fun-loving Chix."To my surprise, I had it all wrong. I was not alone here. Sander was waiting for me. It was good to find him here; he has been a comfort for me. I told him I was sorry for making him wait. He let me know that he understood why I waited. He assured me that it was alright for me to wait, coming only after I was ready."When Sander came to me the first night, he comforted me, bringing good memories of us in this place, like the Ghost of Christmas Past. He reacquainted me with faded memories of Patricia and Will, Annie and Nelson and McNally and Orlando all gathered in this place with me and Sander back in those days at the beginning. The images he brought to me made me feel grateful for all of you."I told Sander that those were lovely, warm memories, some of the best; but that they were far in the dim past. When Sander wrapped those memories around me; I felt warmth and saw a radiating brightness, happy for what we had once shared together. He said that that is why he had to brighten them for me; otherwise, neither I nor anyone else in those images would be able to clearly see them as they once were."I began to cry as those bright images of our past passions and fellowship with our friends began to fade before my eyes. I cried even more at the fear of losing him and everything good once again."He warned me that squandered time, tyranny of the mundane and careless love will steal from the human soul, draining the treasures of passion and good memories, leaving murky, pathetic sketches in place of those forgotten treasures. Sander let me know that I still had all of you wrapped around me to shield me with love. He was pleased that The Chix had taken such good care of me after he was taken from me."Sander told me he could not keep the past images bright, the power to do so was only given to the realm of the living."I cried in my grief and in my fresh fear of loss. I tried to hold him, but of course, I could not. I pleaded, 'How can I keep those memories of you and warm feelings bright?’ I didn’t know how to find the power to keep from losing all that was meaningful to me. I cried, 'Please Sander, show me, show me how not to lose you and everything again. Don’t let me drain away into the murky darkness where all warmth and love have been stolen from the human soul.’"I cried, kneeling on the floor. Sander said nothing as he stood close to me as a kind and gentle spirit with a comforting patience waiting for me to finish my hot tears. When I wiped away my tears and looked into his face, he pointed and guided me to look for my answer. I saw The Chix checking their messages, returning calls, checking their calendars trying to squeeze in a meeting, an appointment and a Christmas cookie exchange. I saw that we were rushing to the shopping mall, ordering online, checking our phones and returning home exhausted, drained of warmth and love, leaving nothing for those around us."I was shown Will, Nelson and Orlando taking the cars in for servicing because it was time. I saw these men checking their messages and making out-of-the way runs to pick up store items and a few groceries because their wives had sent them a text message. I witnessed The Dix on their own initiative coming home with a takeout meal that they served to their exhausted wives and then taking out the trash the night before pickup without a reminder. The guys were up late at night, opening the bills and writing the household checks and balancing the accounts, toiling like the loyal Bob Cratchit, Scrooge’s unappreciated clerk. I had been shown Christmas Present. I was sad to have seen that exhausted misery spread to all of our present lives."I cried, 'Oh Sander, where is the joy and the love for our friends? Everyone looks so exhausted and joyless and without hope or purpose. Tell me Sander, what is going to happen to them?’ Sander looked sad and did not answer me."He began to fade into the darkness, and I begged with renewed tears, 'Sander please don’t go, please don’t leave me alone again.’ But he was gone.I crawled off the floor, lifting myself into bed and cried myself to sleep. I remembered his words, 'Squandered time, tyranny of the mundane and careless love will steal from the human soul, draining the treasures of passion and good memories and leaving murky, pathetic sketches in place of those forgotten treasures.’"When Sander slipped away from me that night, I understood that he had shown me that the same was happening to Orlando and McNally, Will and Patricia and also to Nelson and Annie. His visit was a warning. Just as I lost Sander, everyone here is facing a Christmas Future where you will discover that you’ve lost all that really matters in life."Sander came again the next night. I was glad to see him. I wanted to know if it was too late for our friends to rekindle the love that had somehow drained away. 'Please, Sander, tell me that there is yet hope for them this Christmas Season,’ I begged."He showed me some bright and warm memories from long ago, some personal and some with The Chix. He showed me those visions to let me know that I still had love and support from you guys. But I was haunted by those visions of Christmas Present that I’d been shown the night before. He was happy that I was so well cared for now. And yes, he was happy to know that I got surprised by some needed loving attention from a partridge, a turtle dove hunter and an old barnyard rooster who had a few tricks to make a French hen cackle. Yet, the peril of the bleak Christmas Present remains, unless friendship and love is cherished and attended, it too will soon perish, and I’ll see my friends fade away into murky darkness as Sander had."Again, I looked into his gentle eyes and asked, 'There is still time isn’t there? We haven’t squandered our time, it’s not too late, tell me sweetheart, there are warm and bright memories of love and affection still to be made, nourished and cherished.’ Sander smiled his warm smile of assurance that I had missed so much, and I was happy."I woke, realizing that the sun was shining off a fresh morning snowfall and I threw off my heavy quilt. I sat up in bed, remembering that on our last morning together; Sander had been working on something secret that morning before the accident. I remembered asking him, 'Sweetie buns, what are you working on the hill behind the cabin?’"He smiled that warm, smug smile of mischief on that last morning that we were together and told me, 'I’ve got a Christmas surprise to show you tonight, it has to be revealed once it is dark. So, you’ll have to wait until we finish a few runs on the slopes this afternoon.’"Of course, we never came back here together. I had forgotten about Sander’s promised secret Christmas surprise until yesterday morning. When Sander told me he had a Christmas gift waiting for me after dark, he was holding an electrical extension cord behind his back with his mischievous smile stretched across his ski slope tanned face. 'I’ll plug this in to brighten your night tonight, as a token of how you have brightened my life,’ he said. Recalling some of his last words, I jumped out of bed and checked this morning; that cord is still lying on the deck where Sander left it last year.Annie was crying, as usual, but so were Patricia and McNally.Dana reached for her purse and pulled out her phone and looked at her messages and began to text, as The Chix took a few moments to rein in their emotions and check their composure before speaking or asking Dana any questions.Annie brushed her cheeks, "Oh Dana, that is the sweetest, saddest story I’ve ever heard… Excuse me, I can’t stop weeping… I don’t even know if these are tears of joy or grief… excuse me, I don’t know what to feel or say,” she said as the flood gates reopened.Patricia felt it was her role to wade in and tidy things up and drain the emotional swamp in which they all found themselves wallowing in. “Dana, it sounds like you’ve started to find some peace after last year’s events. I am glad that you shared with us how you are coping with Sander’s passing…”“Patricia, Jesus Christ on a bicycle! Don’t be such a cold and analytical mother hen all the time for us Chix. Dana’s story is not about coping, it’s about us - all of us and all that we once had and what we might lose, including Will, Nelson and yes, Orlando too. Dana, your conversation with Sander really got to me there…” McNally paused, looking emotionally rattled.“I guess everyone can tell, your story about Sander got to me also,” said Annie after managing to dry out enough. “I feel like McNally. Dana, what you said really touched me; I don’t know what to say… Yes, I actually do, I want to say that what Sander said is right; my joy has been stolen from my soul, I feel drained inside, I have let the things I hold most dear fade away. I am Scrooge - and I’m sorry, but so are all of you.”Turning to Patricia, Annie asked, “Don’t you feel what McNally and I feel? Don’t you feel that you and I and McNally, and certainly Dana, have lost something precious? Together as The Chix, we are a sum greater the whole - and that has, or should, include our husbands. I believe Sander told Dana to warn us all before it is too late. Patricia, don’t you feel like me that we should do something before the Ghost of Christmas Future makes the vision of an estranged and murky end to all that we enjoy a grim reality?”Patricia teared up and nodded silently. Then lifting her head, she asked Dana, “Is there hope? Did Sander give you hope for us?”“There is hope. There is still love here, and where there is love, there is hope. Sander showed me that the future can be changed by what we do now. Sander showed me that there is hope for us, hope for The Chix.”“And… And… What is that hope?” asked McNally. “And… And… And I got lots of questions about you and Sander up here in this cabin, but first - that was a gripping Christmas ghost story with Sander, but it seemed kind of weird that as soon as you finished driving your emotional steamroller full speed over our sympathies that you then broke character, ignoring us to check your phone. Isn’t checking your messages part of that tyranny of the mundane that Sander warned you about? Who is so important that you were texting them rather than dealing with us in this room and our emotions?”“The Ghost or the Ghosts of Christmas Future,” was Dana’s curt, cryptic reply.“You asked about our future, you asked about hope; I don’t know exactly how to answer those questions,” said a thoughtful Dana. “But I know where I want to look for starters. There is Sander’s unrevealed Christmas surprise waiting for me - or us, on top of the hill behind the cabin. It was Sander&rsq

  In this episode David and Naomi meet with Lawrence Collins-Willis who shares his disturbing personal story of childhood abuse, recovery, and the ongoing journey to heal from trauma. His openness offers insight into the complex process of memory recovery and the importance of self-awareness, resilience, and professional support. Key Topics The impact of adopting children later in life and personal childhood histories Recognizing triggers and embodying emotional regulation The role of therapy, including EMDR and somatic approaches, in trauma recovery Memory recovery: how traumatic memories emerge piecemeal and the disorientation involved Physical manifestations of trauma: scars, surgeries, and bodily effects The importance of self-compassion and patience during healing Challenging stigma around male trauma and abuse Supporting others who experience or process trauma The importance of trauma-informed therapy and support options for men Timestamps 00:00 - Introduction to Lawrence's story and its significance 02:01 - Pre-adoption life: grounding and functioning well 04:38 - Experiencing and recognizing emotional triggers during parenting 06:26 - Professional interventions and the importance of therapy 08:13 - The breakthrough moment in therapy and uncovering repressed memories 11:13 - The harsh reality of childhood abuse and the process of memory recovery 13:13 - The details of traumatic events, betrayal, and ongoing impact 16:25 - The body's physical response: scars, surgeries, and bodily trauma 19:44 - The emotional toll and identity shifts following trauma 22:56 - The importance of support systems and handling suicidal thoughts 28:38 - Disorientation of memory flashing back and sensory triggers 30:46 - The somatic effects of trauma on the body and physical health 33:08 - How trauma influences identity and self-image 36:49 - Managing triggers and feeling safer in everyday life 38:24 - The lasting impact of trauma and ongoing vulnerability 42:01 - The challenges of feeling safe and concerns about future behavior 43:33 - Addressing fears around abuse and the importance of trauma-informed support 45:43 - Navigating the landscape of mental health support and barriers to access 47:19 - The dark moments: suicidal ideation and seeking help 50:06 - Breaking down stigma and supporting men's mental health and trauma recovery 52:14 - Advice for survivors: emotions, anger, and self-kindness 54:37 - Contemporary trauma therapy approaches and their effectiveness 55:48 - Final reflections: acceptance and the ongoing journey of healing

In this episode David and Naomi meet with Lawrence Collins-Willis who shares his disturbing personal story of childhood abuse, recovery, and the ongoing journey to heal from trauma. His openness offers insight into the complex process of memory recovery and the importance of self-awareness, resilience, and professional support. Key Topics The impact of adopting children later in life and personal childhood histories Recognizing triggers and embodying emotional regulation The role of therapy, including EMDR and somatic approaches, in trauma recovery Memory recovery: how traumatic memories emerge piecemeal and the disorientation involved Physical manifestations of trauma: scars, surgeries, and bodily effects The importance of self-compassion and patience during healing Challenging stigma around male trauma and abuse Supporting others who experience or process trauma The importance of trauma-informed therapy and support options for men Timestamps 00:00 - Introduction to Lawrence's story and its significance 02:01 - Pre-adoption life: grounding and functioning well 04:38 - Experiencing and recognizing emotional triggers during parenting 06:26 - Professional interventions and the importance of therapy 08:13 - The breakthrough moment in therapy and uncovering repressed memories 11:13 - The harsh reality of childhood abuse and the process of memory recovery 13:13 - The details of traumatic events, betrayal, and ongoing impact 16:25 - The body's physical response: scars, surgeries, and bodily trauma 19:44 - The emotional toll and identity shifts following trauma 22:56 - The importance of support systems and handling suicidal thoughts 28:38 - Disorientation of memory flashing back and sensory triggers 30:46 - The somatic effects of trauma on the body and physical health 33:08 - How trauma influences identity and self-image 36:49 - Managing triggers and feeling safer in everyday life 38:24 - The lasting impact of trauma and ongoing vulnerability 42:01 - The challenges of feeling safe and concerns about future behavior 43:33 - Addressing fears around abuse and the importance of trauma-informed support 45:43 - Navigating the landscape of mental health support and barriers to access 47:19 - The dark moments: suicidal ideation and seeking help 50:06 - Breaking down stigma and supporting men's mental health and trauma recovery 52:14 - Advice for survivors: emotions, anger, and self-kindness 54:37 - Contemporary trauma therapy approaches and their effectiveness 55:48 - Final reflections: acceptance and the ongoing journey of healing

Pastor Brent Snook preaches a special sermon on this Gospel Sunday.In Titus 3:1–8, Paul urges believers to remember who they are in Christ. Just as God established memorials in the Old Testament so His people would not forget, Christians must remember both their calling and their past. We are called to stand firm in difficult assignments, speak with gentleness, submit to authority, and reflect Christ in our conduct. Recalling who we once were—foolish, deceived, and lost—keeps us humble. Remembering what we now are—saved and transformed by God's mercy—fuels gratitude and grace. When we truly remember who we were and who we are, our lives become living testimonies of His redeeming power.

“Our Teacher” is a collection of essays written by students of Falun Dafa (also known as Falun Gong). This series is comprised of their personal experiences with the practice and their interactions with Dafa's founder, Mr. Li Hongzhi, when the practice was first taught to the public. The writings were originally published on the Minghui website. Original Articles:1. Eternal Gratitude2. Recalling the Days When I Attended Master’s Lectures3. Recalling the Precious Time When Master Taught the Fa Throughout China To provide feedback on this podcast, please email us at feedback@minghuiradio.org

Nicole Melillo Shaw, Managing Director of Volvo UK, joins Big Boss Interview at a pivotal moment for the electric vehicle market, as the company recalls 10,500 EX30 electric cars following four battery fires globally.“It's against everything we stand for,” she says, reflecting on a situation that challenges a brand built on nearly a century of safety leadership. Despite a global failure rate of just 0.02% and no fatalities, Volvo identified the root cause in late December and immediately instructed owners not to charge beyond 70% while a fix is implemented. Repairs are scheduled to begin in late March. For Volvo, the response reflects what she describes as a precautionary, safety-first culture, even when the commercial implications are uncomfortable.Melillo Shaw examines what the recall means for consumer confidence in electric vehicles — a technology already under heightened scrutiny — even though petrol vehicles statistically present a greater inherent fire risk due to flammable fuel systems.The recall comes as electric vehicle adoption remains slower than manufacturers once anticipated, despite annual growth exceeding 20%. Volvo's UK electric sales peaked at 28% following the EX30 launch but have since stabilised at just over 22 per cent as more than 160 additional models enter the market and buyers opt for “one more petrol” or hybrid before fully switching.Range anxiety, she argues, is no longer the central issue, but infrastructure concerns persist. Confusing government messaging — pairing incentives with discussions of pay-per-mile charges and benefit-in-kind changes — continues to add to consumer hesitation.Global instability adds further complexity. Volvo has been regionalising production, partly in response to tariff pressures, building vehicles closer to the markets in which they are sold. That turbulence elevates the UK's importance as Volvo's third-largest market, where a direct-to-consumer model has delivered 40% growth and lifted market share from 2.5% to 3.5%.Government Zero Emission Vehicle mandates now require manufacturers to meet steep electrification quotas or face fines of £12,000 per non-compliant vehicle from November. Volvo discontinued diesel models in the UK in 2023 and says it could sell 100% electric vehicles tomorrow if demand existed. However, meeting regulatory targets while absorbing development costs and discounting pressures presents a commercial balancing act.Finally, Melillo Shaw reflects on her own trajectory — from Scunthorpe through healthcare brands to automotive leadership. Volvo deliberately recruited her because she had never bought a car, valuing the perspective of someone who understood the anxiety of a major purchase. She argues the industry must broaden access and challenge assumptions about who belongs in automotive careers, creating clearer pathways for talent from working-class communities.

Cast-aways At College: part 2Survivors savor the joy of living, and their bravery turns to romantic discovery.By SilverFoxMullet.Listen to the ►Podcast at Steamy Stories.Luckily for me, my room was on the ground floor, as my building has no elevators. I had my key on a lanyard around my neck, and I unlocked the door. I let her precede me inside, and I shut the door once I got in. She looked around the room, which I usually keep fairly neat, but lately it’s been immaculate. I am not as active with crutches, so I’ve stayed in a fair bit the last couple of weeks. And I clean when I get bored.“Your room is so neat. I expected, um, sorry, a pigsty. You know, ‘guy’?”“It’s not usually this nice, but I’ve been staying in a lot recently." Tapping my cast for emphasis.She looked at my leg, then asked "Can I sign your cast?”“Only if I can sign yours." I negotiated."Deal. Got a pen?” She inquired.“Desk, top drawer." I responded, and suddenly thought. Oh No. "Uh, I’ll get one for you.”She was too quick, you know, having moveable feet and all, and she pulled the drawer open. First thing she sees is the unopened box of condoms my dorm buddies gave me for Christmas. Her eyebrows rose, and she put a finger on the still-sealed box. Then she turned bright red, and picked up a sharpie.“Your cast is covered up, I can’t get at it.” she said in a slightly quavering voice. She looked nervous and fidgety. I knew I was nervous as all hell. That box of condoms was meant as a joke, as I was notorious for not getting anywhere with the ladies. I’d kissed a couple of girls, but that was as far as I’d ever gotten. I just wasn’t able to pursue them the way other guys did. I always backed off. Just couldn’t put myself forward like that.I looked down at my leg, covered by the sweatpants. It took every ounce of bravery I could muster to open my mouth and say the words. “I’ll have to uncover it I guess.”She knelt in front of me. I could see how nervous she was. Hell, I could feel how nervous I was. “Suzanne? I, uh, I never-”“Me too." She affirmed.I looked in her eyes and asked; "Are you sure?”“Yes.” she said, and she reached for my waistband.“Wait.” I interrupted.She stopped, and had a fearful expression on her face, like I’d just said something that hurt her. Damn, that hurts me, to see her look of feeling rejected.“Let me get on the bed first, this chair is so uncomfortable.”“Oh, Okay. Can I help you?”“Yeah, just hold the chair still?”She got behind it, and I heard her say “Hey there’s brakes.” Once the brakes were set, it was easy to get out of the chair and sat the bed. She unset the brakes and slipped the chair into the corner, then knelt down before me again. This time I leaned back on my elbows & she reached out to pull down my sweats with a little more confidence. She got them to my knees, and stopped to pull off the shoe on my good leg.The sweats slipped off my legs, leaving me semi-reclined in my polo shirt and briefs. The briefs were definitely bulging now. She stared at my crotch for long enough that I became self-conscious, and I blushed almost as red as she was.Grinning big, she picked up the sharpie, then wrote a note on my cast.“To Robert, I saved myself for the one who saved my life, Suzanne”It was difficult to read from my angle, so she read it out loud to me. My heart started to race, and I felt a little dizzy. "Really?“ I said.She blushed harder, as if that were even possible, and looked at the floor."I think I’ve been saving myself for someone like you, too.” I said.She looked up at me, with what I thought was panic at first, but the smile that grew from that look was anything but panicked. I held out my hand for the pen. She sat to my left and held out her arm. It was covered by her blouse, so I said “Uh, It’s covered”.“Then you’ll have to uncover it I guess,” she beamed.She shifted up over me and I reached up with trembling fingers to work the front buttons on her silky long sleeved top. It felt like I had never operated a button in my life, I was so uncoordinated. But I finally got the job done, and her blouse fell open. I slid it off her far shoulder, and she pulled her left arm free. I stared in wonder at her tits. She didn’t have a bra on, probably because she needed both hands to get it on and off. Oh My Fucking God.I absently drew her blouse off her right shoulder, and slid the puffy long sleeve down & off her right arm and it's cast. Only then did I take in the veritable wonder of an actual pair of real live tits in front of my eyes. “Wow” I said with bright eyes. Her tits were a smaller B cup, with areolas a shade darker than her skin tone, and stiff little nipples poking out.“They’re not too small?” she timidly asked.“God no, wow! You’re beautiful!” I said with a giddiness I couldn t suppress.She blushed and looked away shyly for a second. I remembered the pen in my hand, so I had her lay on her back so I could write on her cast.“To Suzanne, saving each other, saved for each other, Robert”As I was capping the pen her left hand pulled me down against her, and her lips rushed to meet mine. I had thought she had nice lips when I kissed her earlier, but that was mostly one-sided. This was phenomenal. I dropped the pen somewhere, and wrapped my arms around her. We kissed like this for minutes, or maybe it was days, I dunno, I didn’t care. She lay half across my lap, and I bent over her, our lips and tongues entwined for such a glorious time.It was never like this. I was always so nervous trying to kiss a girl before, but this was passion and perfection. We finally had to come up for air, and she smiled sweetly at me as she lay back on my bed. I guess that’s when she felt my erection pressing into her hip. Her eyes went wide, then she grinned up at me.“Am I as fetching as you thought?”“Yeah, fetching is not the half of it. Arousing, beautiful, and literally stunning. I have no more words.”“Shall I get the, um, the box, from your desk?” she offered.“Not yet.” I replied, hobbling up off the bed, then guiding her to her feet. I undid the zipper on her slacks, and slipped them down to pile up around her ankles. She kicked her shoes off and stepped out of her slacks. “Damn” I said. She was so pale and delicate. Not a small girl, probably the same height as me, but she was certainly slimmer than I was, overall.Her hands seemed to want to cover her boobs, but she fought that urge, standing before me as a lover, not a recently met stranger. I was drawn to her, & I could feel the pull, like gravity between us. She tentatively reached toward me, and I realized she wanted me as naked as she was, so we peeled off my polo shirt.She gasped, looked me up and down, her gaze settling on the sharply defined summit in my underwear. She reached out again, and clumsily pulled down the front of my briefs with her left hand. I hooked my thumb into the waistband behind me and it made her mission move along quickly. But as she leaned down to complete the descent, she nearly got poked in the eye.“Oh dear” she said as my stiff cock sprang free of its confinement and pointed upward toward her. “That’s so… different. Bigger.” Her eyes were wide now as she took in what was apparently her first sight of a full erection.I reached for her, and she started to back away, so I laid back down and waited. She fidgeted some more, some kind of internal debate, and then she knelt and leaned right up to me, nodding. “Okay” she said.I reached down again, and ever so slowly peeled her panties off. Fuck. A neat little triangle of sparse, dark hair was there, just above a puffy slit. I’d seen lots of porn, but this was not like any of that. All those porn stars shaved and trimmed and waxed away everything. This was whatever she had, all of it, come as you are.Her panties dropped to her knees, and I said “Wow. You’re beautiful.”“You think so?” she asked.“Oh yes, I know so.” I said with conviction.She smiled, then shifted nervously and flipped her panties to the floor. Then she paused again, a fleeting glance back to the desk. "Lay down here with me for a while.“ I said.Relaxing the tiniest bit, she laid alongside and half on me, and we embraced, as best we could with two limbs encased in plaster. We kissed again, and it was similar to before, but the extra skin contact made the sensation so much better. I put my hands to use, stroking her back, her neck, her tits, and her thighs as she shivered from my touch. Then she shifted onto her side and her left hand was around the back of my neck, drawing our kiss closer, pressing her pert tits into my chest, crushing me to her. As before, we kissed forever, it seemed. Once she let up on her clutching me, I gently rolled her onto her back, on the bed.I wanted to see that pussy. To touch it, smell it, taste it! I’d read about eating a girl out, I’d watched innumerable videos, and now I had the opportunity to try it. Some guys said it was gross, and wouldn’t do it. Some said it was the best way to get a girl worked up, so don’t mind the smell and taste, just do it. Me, I just wanted to find out what it was like, I didn’t care if it was good or bad, I was gonna do this.Gently, I scooted myself up, then farther down the bed. I pushed her legs apart, and she watched in wonder as I leaned down to look at her. Wow, this was amazing. "You’re beautiful” I said to her pussy. I leaned right in and kissed her patch. There was a sharp sour tang to her, but it wasn’t bad, just new, different. I swept my tongue along her slit, picking up even more of her strong flavour. Inside, it was different, still not good or bad, I guessed that this was just what a pussy tasted like.Again and again I lapped at her, and she got wetter and wetter. Her knees bent as she opened herself up, inviting me farther inside. This wetness might have been me drooling on her, or her arousal, I didn’t know. She was making joyous little noises up there, in time to my activities with my tongue. That felt good, really good, to me! I caressed her thighs, then ran my fingers through her delicate fur, and her hips moved in a way I had never imagined I would ever see. I could FEEL her arousal in that motion, she was so happy with what I was doing, and that made me happy!I knew her clitoris was supposed to be up here somewhere, so I began licking at the apex of her slit. Her soft cries and shudders let me now when I found it. Yes, there she was, and when I used my tongue the way I saw in those videos, she reacted with an astonishing cry and multiple thrusts of her hips. She practically bounced on the bed and yelped in her efforts to seemingly avoid my tongue and ram herself onto it at one and the same time.Her hand came down to twine her fingers in my hair, not too push me away, or even to draw me in, but just to make contact, to be part of what was happening to her. I continued to lick her clit gently, and her hips began a hypnotic rolling motion, over and over, slowly cycling up and down.I put a finger down where I thought her opening was, and moved it around, between her slick labia. I found what I sought, and as my finger slipped inside of her, the tone of her soft noises changed, from one of languid pleasure to one of lust and need. I continued this double activity, which came so much easier to me than the old patting-head and rubbing-tummy trick. I always botched that, but not this!I had thought that I’d made her cum a while earlier, when she’d made that louder noise, but I was wrong, or perhaps this was a new order of magnitude for her. This time her entire body tensed up, and she shook and made small gasping sounds for a half a minute. Now her hand was pushing me away, her breath rasping in her throat, as she’d had enough of this.“Oh, Robert” she whispered hoarsely.I sat up and let my casted leg hang over the side of the bed. Then I looked down upon her, spread out before me, spread eagle, gasping for air in her glory.“Did I do Okay?” I asked.She laughed weakly, then said; “I didn’t know it could be like that.”“Me neither.” I admitted.“Do, do we need those uh, things now?”“Condoms. Yes, we’ll need those, I hope?” I eager looked at her.“I’d get them, but I can’t seem to move right now, she revealed. Can I catch my breath for a bit?” She was still breathing heavily.“That’s Okay, we re in no hurry, I assured her.I felt like I would never tire of watching her when she was naked and aroused. Beautiful, amazing. After a while she struggled to sit up, difficult with one arm and tangled up with another person in bed. She stepped over to the desk and got out that box, then brought it to me. She sat down on the side of the bed and watched closely as I opened it and pulled out a strip of condoms. A folded instruction sheet fell out in my lap, and she picked it up. I tore one of the condom packages off the strip as she unfolded the paper & flipped it over to read the English side. I peered over her shoulder at the little diagram, and tore open the packet. Suzanne dropped the paper and looked closely at what I was doing as I squeezed the tip and rolled it on."That’s it?” she asked.“Yup, I think so, I surmised.She lifted her cast-encased arm and said "How do we do this?”“You on top, I think.”“On top?” she asked, “I don’t understand.”“Can I show you a video?” I offered.“Oh, Okay. You mean like, a porn video?”“Uh huh, so you can see what position might work.”“O, kay?”She got up, unplugged my laptop, and brought it over, placing it on our laps. I surfed to a site I knew had good videos. I typed cowgirl in the search box and scrolled through the resulting thumbnails. I soon found a promising one, and clicked on it. I had to fast forward through a lot of it, and she said “Go back to that last part.”I backed up a bit and she watched in rapt fascination as a girl on the screen took a guy’s cock deep into her mouth. “Can I try that?” she asked.“Sure! if you want.”The girl on the screen pulled away and continued to stroke the guy, his cum splattering her face, then she took him back in to finish.“Yew. Maybe not.”“Like I said, only if you want.”“Well, you did that for me, so maybe I should do that for you, too.”“Let’s find the bit we’re looking for first.”I skipped forward a bit more, then found the cowgirl segment. “See, she’s on top, our casts won’t be in the way too much like that. Plus, it gives you the ability to take things along as you re comfortable.We watched for a minute. "Okay, I can do that.” she said.Closing the laptop, she put it on the floor and slid it under the bed. She got off the bed, and let me shift around, and clambered back on. Straddling my thighs, she bit her lip and said, “It’s supposed to hurt the first time, isn’t it?”“I think so. You’ll have to be gentle.” That s why I wanted us to try it this way.She nodded, then reached down and grasped my cock. She took a few minutes to fondle and stroke my cock, with a look of curiosity, desire, and giddiness. She knelt straight up, and shifted her body forward to align her new play tool with her cunt, moving her hips and my cock, to find the right spot. Once engaged, she withdrew her hand and sank halfway down onto me.She froze, with a curious look on her face.“Huh” she groaned.“Oh god, Suzanne” I said, basking in the hot wet tightness of her pussy. It was incredible. I was gonna cum, and soon, this was so astonishingly good!She was descended in front of me, pert tits caped with tight hard nipples, hair hanging in disarray about her face, and her pussy - holy fuck - I could see my cock impaling her. Labia distended and wrapped around my shaft, and the sensations from inside her were amazing! As she raised back up, my cock looked like it had a pussy doughnut encircling it.It was like some weird sheathed hand, wrapped around my cock, with rippling touches here and there. Her thousand-yard stare suddenly focused back on me, and she said “Wow” and slid down my shaft until she bottomed out. “That didn’t hurt at all” she whispered in awe. “That feels so good! You feel so big inside me.”Recalling the video we’d previewed, she started humping and grinding and bouncing on my shaft. I was trying not to cum yet, I wanted to please her first, and luckily, what she was doing wasn’t over stimulating me. Except visually, I was getting so turned on by the sight of a naked girl getting turned on by my own cock! And guys are visual creatures, so it was difficult to hold back.But she did cum again, and hard, and I could feel it from the inside. Her orgasm was a rippling and clenching of muscles, both inside her pussy, and over her whole body. Her arms, her legs, her abs, everything tensed and shook. Maybe there s nothing so visually erotic as watching a sexy woman having a massive trance orgasm.And that was all I could stand before I exploded.I thought the condom was gonna explode, I pumped so much cum into it. The sight of her there, on me, cumming, fuck that was intense.When it had passed, she opened her eyes in wonder and looked down at me. “Oh god Robert, this is amazing! You’re amazing.” All I could do was smile up at her. Then she said “Did you finish yet?”“Oh Yeah."  I assured her.She smiled with a deep sense of accomplishment, then asked me; "Can I try that mouth thing?” Her innocence is so sexy.“A blowjob?" I asked."That’s a blowjob? she seemed inquisitive. I heard other people talk about it, but was always afraid to ask what it was. I really want to try that.”She rose up off of me and tried to get the condom off. Left handed wasn’t working well, so I removed it, and asked her to reach over to the desk for some tissues to clean up. “Thanks” she said, then she went around to the foot of the bed and crawled up to get at my cock.She sat cross-legged and leaned down to get closer to her new favorite sex toy.She held my semi-flaccid cock and gave the tip a tentative lick first, then smiled at me and licked harder. She spent a minute or so licking me like a popsicle. Wow, you taste sorta salty and manly she observed. Then she took my head into her mouth and I gasped and whimpered “Please, No teeth”.“Sorry.” she said. Then I was engulfed again, and she hummed on me, which wa

Cast-aways At College: part 2Survivors savor the joy of living, and their bravery turns to romantic discovery.By SilverFoxMullet.Listen to the ►Podcast at Steamy Stories.Luckily for me, my room was on the ground floor, as my building has no elevators. I had my key on a lanyard around my neck, and I unlocked the door. I let her precede me inside, and I shut the door once I got in. She looked around the room, which I usually keep fairly neat, but lately it’s been immaculate. I am not as active with crutches, so I’ve stayed in a fair bit the last couple of weeks. And I clean when I get bored.“Your room is so neat. I expected, um, sorry, a pigsty. You know, ‘guy’?”“It’s not usually this nice, but I’ve been staying in a lot recently." Tapping my cast for emphasis.She looked at my leg, then asked "Can I sign your cast?”“Only if I can sign yours." I negotiated."Deal. Got a pen?” She inquired.“Desk, top drawer." I responded, and suddenly thought. Oh No. "Uh, I’ll get one for you.”She was too quick, you know, having moveable feet and all, and she pulled the drawer open. First thing she sees is the unopened box of condoms my dorm buddies gave me for Christmas. Her eyebrows rose, and she put a finger on the still-sealed box. Then she turned bright red, and picked up a sharpie.“Your cast is covered up, I can’t get at it.” she said in a slightly quavering voice. She looked nervous and fidgety. I knew I was nervous as all hell. That box of condoms was meant as a joke, as I was notorious for not getting anywhere with the ladies. I’d kissed a couple of girls, but that was as far as I’d ever gotten. I just wasn’t able to pursue them the way other guys did. I always backed off. Just couldn’t put myself forward like that.I looked down at my leg, covered by the sweatpants. It took every ounce of bravery I could muster to open my mouth and say the words. “I’ll have to uncover it I guess.”She knelt in front of me. I could see how nervous she was. Hell, I could feel how nervous I was. “Suzanne? I, uh, I never-”“Me too." She affirmed.I looked in her eyes and asked; "Are you sure?”“Yes.” she said, and she reached for my waistband.“Wait.” I interrupted.She stopped, and had a fearful expression on her face, like I’d just said something that hurt her. Damn, that hurts me, to see her look of feeling rejected.“Let me get on the bed first, this chair is so uncomfortable.”“Oh, Okay. Can I help you?”“Yeah, just hold the chair still?”She got behind it, and I heard her say “Hey there’s brakes.” Once the brakes were set, it was easy to get out of the chair and sat the bed. She unset the brakes and slipped the chair into the corner, then knelt down before me again. This time I leaned back on my elbows & she reached out to pull down my sweats with a little more confidence. She got them to my knees, and stopped to pull off the shoe on my good leg.The sweats slipped off my legs, leaving me semi-reclined in my polo shirt and briefs. The briefs were definitely bulging now. She stared at my crotch for long enough that I became self-conscious, and I blushed almost as red as she was.Grinning big, she picked up the sharpie, then wrote a note on my cast.“To Robert, I saved myself for the one who saved my life, Suzanne”It was difficult to read from my angle, so she read it out loud to me. My heart started to race, and I felt a little dizzy. "Really?“ I said.She blushed harder, as if that were even possible, and looked at the floor."I think I’ve been saving myself for someone like you, too.” I said.She looked up at me, with what I thought was panic at first, but the smile that grew from that look was anything but panicked. I held out my hand for the pen. She sat to my left and held out her arm. It was covered by her blouse, so I said “Uh, It’s covered”.“Then you’ll have to uncover it I guess,” she beamed.She shifted up over me and I reached up with trembling fingers to work the front buttons on her silky long sleeved top. It felt like I had never operated a button in my life, I was so uncoordinated. But I finally got the job done, and her blouse fell open. I slid it off her far shoulder, and she pulled her left arm free. I stared in wonder at her tits. She didn’t have a bra on, probably because she needed both hands to get it on and off. Oh My Fucking God.I absently drew her blouse off her right shoulder, and slid the puffy long sleeve down & off her right arm and it's cast. Only then did I take in the veritable wonder of an actual pair of real live tits in front of my eyes. “Wow” I said with bright eyes. Her tits were a smaller B cup, with areolas a shade darker than her skin tone, and stiff little nipples poking out.“They’re not too small?” she timidly asked.“God no, wow! You’re beautiful!” I said with a giddiness I couldn t suppress.She blushed and looked away shyly for a second. I remembered the pen in my hand, so I had her lay on her back so I could write on her cast.“To Suzanne, saving each other, saved for each other, Robert”As I was capping the pen her left hand pulled me down against her, and her lips rushed to meet mine. I had thought she had nice lips when I kissed her earlier, but that was mostly one-sided. This was phenomenal. I dropped the pen somewhere, and wrapped my arms around her. We kissed like this for minutes, or maybe it was days, I dunno, I didn’t care. She lay half across my lap, and I bent over her, our lips and tongues entwined for such a glorious time.It was never like this. I was always so nervous trying to kiss a girl before, but this was passion and perfection. We finally had to come up for air, and she smiled sweetly at me as she lay back on my bed. I guess that’s when she felt my erection pressing into her hip. Her eyes went wide, then she grinned up at me.“Am I as fetching as you thought?”“Yeah, fetching is not the half of it. Arousing, beautiful, and literally stunning. I have no more words.”“Shall I get the, um, the box, from your desk?” she offered.“Not yet.” I replied, hobbling up off the bed, then guiding her to her feet. I undid the zipper on her slacks, and slipped them down to pile up around her ankles. She kicked her shoes off and stepped out of her slacks. “Damn” I said. She was so pale and delicate. Not a small girl, probably the same height as me, but she was certainly slimmer than I was, overall.Her hands seemed to want to cover her boobs, but she fought that urge, standing before me as a lover, not a recently met stranger. I was drawn to her, & I could feel the pull, like gravity between us. She tentatively reached toward me, and I realized she wanted me as naked as she was, so we peeled off my polo shirt.She gasped, looked me up and down, her gaze settling on the sharply defined summit in my underwear. She reached out again, and clumsily pulled down the front of my briefs with her left hand. I hooked my thumb into the waistband behind me and it made her mission move along quickly. But as she leaned down to complete the descent, she nearly got poked in the eye.“Oh dear” she said as my stiff cock sprang free of its confinement and pointed upward toward her. “That’s so… different. Bigger.” Her eyes were wide now as she took in what was apparently her first sight of a full erection.I reached for her, and she started to back away, so I laid back down and waited. She fidgeted some more, some kind of internal debate, and then she knelt and leaned right up to me, nodding. “Okay” she said.I reached down again, and ever so slowly peeled her panties off. Fuck. A neat little triangle of sparse, dark hair was there, just above a puffy slit. I’d seen lots of porn, but this was not like any of that. All those porn stars shaved and trimmed and waxed away everything. This was whatever she had, all of it, come as you are.Her panties dropped to her knees, and I said “Wow. You’re beautiful.”“You think so?” she asked.“Oh yes, I know so.” I said with conviction.She smiled, then shifted nervously and flipped her panties to the floor. Then she paused again, a fleeting glance back to the desk. "Lay down here with me for a while.“ I said.Relaxing the tiniest bit, she laid alongside and half on me, and we embraced, as best we could with two limbs encased in plaster. We kissed again, and it was similar to before, but the extra skin contact made the sensation so much better. I put my hands to use, stroking her back, her neck, her tits, and her thighs as she shivered from my touch. Then she shifted onto her side and her left hand was around the back of my neck, drawing our kiss closer, pressing her pert tits into my chest, crushing me to her. As before, we kissed forever, it seemed. Once she let up on her clutching me, I gently rolled her onto her back, on the bed.I wanted to see that pussy. To touch it, smell it, taste it! I’d read about eating a girl out, I’d watched innumerable videos, and now I had the opportunity to try it. Some guys said it was gross, and wouldn’t do it. Some said it was the best way to get a girl worked up, so don’t mind the smell and taste, just do it. Me, I just wanted to find out what it was like, I didn’t care if it was good or bad, I was gonna do this.Gently, I scooted myself up, then farther down the bed. I pushed her legs apart, and she watched in wonder as I leaned down to look at her. Wow, this was amazing. "You’re beautiful” I said to her pussy. I leaned right in and kissed her patch. There was a sharp sour tang to her, but it wasn’t bad, just new, different. I swept my tongue along her slit, picking up even more of her strong flavour. Inside, it was different, still not good or bad, I guessed that this was just what a pussy tasted like.Again and again I lapped at her, and she got wetter and wetter. Her knees bent as she opened herself up, inviting me farther inside. This wetness might have been me drooling on her, or her arousal, I didn’t know. She was making joyous little noises up there, in time to my activities with my tongue. That felt good, really good, to me! I caressed her thighs, then ran my fingers through her delicate fur, and her hips moved in a way I had never imagined I would ever see. I could FEEL her arousal in that motion, she was so happy with what I was doing, and that made me happy!I knew her clitoris was supposed to be up here somewhere, so I began licking at the apex of her slit. Her soft cries and shudders let me now when I found it. Yes, there she was, and when I used my tongue the way I saw in those videos, she reacted with an astonishing cry and multiple thrusts of her hips. She practically bounced on the bed and yelped in her efforts to seemingly avoid my tongue and ram herself onto it at one and the same time.Her hand came down to twine her fingers in my hair, not too push me away, or even to draw me in, but just to make contact, to be part of what was happening to her. I continued to lick her clit gently, and her hips began a hypnotic rolling motion, over and over, slowly cycling up and down.I put a finger down where I thought her opening was, and moved it around, between her slick labia. I found what I sought, and as my finger slipped inside of her, the tone of her soft noises changed, from one of languid pleasure to one of lust and need. I continued this double activity, which came so much easier to me than the old patting-head and rubbing-tummy trick. I always botched that, but not this!I had thought that I’d made her cum a while earlier, when she’d made that louder noise, but I was wrong, or perhaps this was a new order of magnitude for her. This time her entire body tensed up, and she shook and made small gasping sounds for a half a minute. Now her hand was pushing me away, her breath rasping in her throat, as she’d had enough of this.“Oh, Robert” she whispered hoarsely.I sat up and let my casted leg hang over the side of the bed. Then I looked down upon her, spread out before me, spread eagle, gasping for air in her glory.“Did I do Okay?” I asked.She laughed weakly, then said; “I didn’t know it could be like that.”“Me neither.” I admitted.“Do, do we need those uh, things now?”“Condoms. Yes, we’ll need those, I hope?” I eager looked at her.“I’d get them, but I can’t seem to move right now, she revealed. Can I catch my breath for a bit?” She was still breathing heavily.“That’s Okay, we re in no hurry, I assured her.I felt like I would never tire of watching her when she was naked and aroused. Beautiful, amazing. After a while she struggled to sit up, difficult with one arm and tangled up with another person in bed. She stepped over to the desk and got out that box, then brought it to me. She sat down on the side of the bed and watched closely as I opened it and pulled out a strip of condoms. A folded instruction sheet fell out in my lap, and she picked it up. I tore one of the condom packages off the strip as she unfolded the paper & flipped it over to read the English side. I peered over her shoulder at the little diagram, and tore open the packet. Suzanne dropped the paper and looked closely at what I was doing as I squeezed the tip and rolled it on."That’s it?” she asked.“Yup, I think so, I surmised.She lifted her cast-encased arm and said "How do we do this?”“You on top, I think.”“On top?” she asked, “I don’t understand.”“Can I show you a video?” I offered.“Oh, Okay. You mean like, a porn video?”“Uh huh, so you can see what position might work.”“O, kay?”She got up, unplugged my laptop, and brought it over, placing it on our laps. I surfed to a site I knew had good videos. I typed cowgirl in the search box and scrolled through the resulting thumbnails. I soon found a promising one, and clicked on it. I had to fast forward through a lot of it, and she said “Go back to that last part.”I backed up a bit and she watched in rapt fascination as a girl on the screen took a guy’s cock deep into her mouth. “Can I try that?” she asked.“Sure! if you want.”The girl on the screen pulled away and continued to stroke the guy, his cum splattering her face, then she took him back in to finish.“Yew. Maybe not.”“Like I said, only if you want.”“Well, you did that for me, so maybe I should do that for you, too.”“Let’s find the bit we’re looking for first.”I skipped forward a bit more, then found the cowgirl segment. “See, she’s on top, our casts won’t be in the way too much like that. Plus, it gives you the ability to take things along as you re comfortable.We watched for a minute. "Okay, I can do that.” she said.Closing the laptop, she put it on the floor and slid it under the bed. She got off the bed, and let me shift around, and clambered back on. Straddling my thighs, she bit her lip and said, “It’s supposed to hurt the first time, isn’t it?”“I think so. You’ll have to be gentle.” That s why I wanted us to try it this way.She nodded, then reached down and grasped my cock. She took a few minutes to fondle and stroke my cock, with a look of curiosity, desire, and giddiness. She knelt straight up, and shifted her body forward to align her new play tool with her cunt, moving her hips and my cock, to find the right spot. Once engaged, she withdrew her hand and sank halfway down onto me.She froze, with a curious look on her face.“Huh” she groaned.“Oh god, Suzanne” I said, basking in the hot wet tightness of her pussy. It was incredible. I was gonna cum, and soon, this was so astonishingly good!She was descended in front of me, pert tits caped with tight hard nipples, hair hanging in disarray about her face, and her pussy - holy fuck - I could see my cock impaling her. Labia distended and wrapped around my shaft, and the sensations from inside her were amazing! As she raised back up, my cock looked like it had a pussy doughnut encircling it.It was like some weird sheathed hand, wrapped around my cock, with rippling touches here and there. Her thousand-yard stare suddenly focused back on me, and she said “Wow” and slid down my shaft until she bottomed out. “That didn’t hurt at all” she whispered in awe. “That feels so good! You feel so big inside me.”Recalling the video we’d previewed, she started humping and grinding and bouncing on my shaft. I was trying not to cum yet, I wanted to please her first, and luckily, what she was doing wasn’t over stimulating me. Except visually, I was getting so turned on by the sight of a naked girl getting turned on by my own cock! And guys are visual creatures, so it was difficult to hold back.But she did cum again, and hard, and I could feel it from the inside. Her orgasm was a rippling and clenching of muscles, both inside her pussy, and over her whole body. Her arms, her legs, her abs, everything tensed and shook. Maybe there s nothing so visually erotic as watching a sexy woman having a massive trance orgasm.And that was all I could stand before I exploded.I thought the condom was gonna explode, I pumped so much cum into it. The sight of her there, on me, cumming, fuck that was intense.When it had passed, she opened her eyes in wonder and looked down at me. “Oh god Robert, this is amazing! You’re amazing.” All I could do was smile up at her. Then she said “Did you finish yet?”“Oh Yeah."  I assured her.She smiled with a deep sense of accomplishment, then asked me; "Can I try that mouth thing?” Her innocence is so sexy.“A blowjob?" I asked."That’s a blowjob? she seemed inquisitive. I heard other people talk about it, but was always afraid to ask what it was. I really want to try that.”She rose up off of me and tried to get the condom off. Left handed wasn’t working well, so I removed it, and asked her to reach over to the desk for some tissues to clean up. “Thanks” she said, then she went around to the foot of the bed and crawled up to get at my cock.She sat cross-legged and leaned down to get closer to her new favorite sex toy.She held my semi-flaccid cock and gave the tip a tentative lick first, then smiled at me and licked harder. She spent a minute or so licking me like a popsicle. Wow, you taste sorta salty and manly she observed. Then she took my head into her mouth and I gasped and whimpered “Please, No teeth”.“Sorry.” she said. Then I was engulfed again, and she hummed on me, which wa

Cast-aways At College: part 2Survivors savor the joy of living, and their bravery turns to romantic discovery.By SilverFoxMullet.Listen to the ►Podcast at Steamy Stories.Luckily for me, my room was on the ground floor, as my building has no elevators. I had my key on a lanyard around my neck, and I unlocked the door. I let her precede me inside, and I shut the door once I got in. She looked around the room, which I usually keep fairly neat, but lately it’s been immaculate. I am not as active with crutches, so I’ve stayed in a fair bit the last couple of weeks. And I clean when I get bored.“Your room is so neat. I expected, um, sorry, a pigsty. You know, ‘guy’?”“It’s not usually this nice, but I’ve been staying in a lot recently." Tapping my cast for emphasis.She looked at my leg, then asked "Can I sign your cast?”“Only if I can sign yours." I negotiated."Deal. Got a pen?” She inquired.“Desk, top drawer." I responded, and suddenly thought. Oh No. "Uh, I’ll get one for you.”She was too quick, you know, having moveable feet and all, and she pulled the drawer open. First thing she sees is the unopened box of condoms my dorm buddies gave me for Christmas. Her eyebrows rose, and she put a finger on the still-sealed box. Then she turned bright red, and picked up a sharpie.“Your cast is covered up, I can’t get at it.” she said in a slightly quavering voice. She looked nervous and fidgety. I knew I was nervous as all hell. That box of condoms was meant as a joke, as I was notorious for not getting anywhere with the ladies. I’d kissed a couple of girls, but that was as far as I’d ever gotten. I just wasn’t able to pursue them the way other guys did. I always backed off. Just couldn’t put myself forward like that.I looked down at my leg, covered by the sweatpants. It took every ounce of bravery I could muster to open my mouth and say the words. “I’ll have to uncover it I guess.”She knelt in front of me. I could see how nervous she was. Hell, I could feel how nervous I was. “Suzanne? I, uh, I never-”“Me too." She affirmed.I looked in her eyes and asked; "Are you sure?”“Yes.” she said, and she reached for my waistband.“Wait.” I interrupted.She stopped, and had a fearful expression on her face, like I’d just said something that hurt her. Damn, that hurts me, to see her look of feeling rejected.“Let me get on the bed first, this chair is so uncomfortable.”“Oh, Okay. Can I help you?”“Yeah, just hold the chair still?”She got behind it, and I heard her say “Hey there’s brakes.” Once the brakes were set, it was easy to get out of the chair and sat the bed. She unset the brakes and slipped the chair into the corner, then knelt down before me again. This time I leaned back on my elbows & she reached out to pull down my sweats with a little more confidence. She got them to my knees, and stopped to pull off the shoe on my good leg.The sweats slipped off my legs, leaving me semi-reclined in my polo shirt and briefs. The briefs were definitely bulging now. She stared at my crotch for long enough that I became self-conscious, and I blushed almost as red as she was.Grinning big, she picked up the sharpie, then wrote a note on my cast.“To Robert, I saved myself for the one who saved my life, Suzanne”It was difficult to read from my angle, so she read it out loud to me. My heart started to race, and I felt a little dizzy. "Really?“ I said.She blushed harder, as if that were even possible, and looked at the floor."I think I’ve been saving myself for someone like you, too.” I said.She looked up at me, with what I thought was panic at first, but the smile that grew from that look was anything but panicked. I held out my hand for the pen. She sat to my left and held out her arm. It was covered by her blouse, so I said “Uh, It’s covered”.“Then you’ll have to uncover it I guess,” she beamed.She shifted up over me and I reached up with trembling fingers to work the front buttons on her silky long sleeved top. It felt like I had never operated a button in my life, I was so uncoordinated. But I finally got the job done, and her blouse fell open. I slid it off her far shoulder, and she pulled her left arm free. I stared in wonder at her tits. She didn’t have a bra on, probably because she needed both hands to get it on and off. Oh My Fucking God.I absently drew her blouse off her right shoulder, and slid the puffy long sleeve down & off her right arm and it's cast. Only then did I take in the veritable wonder of an actual pair of real live tits in front of my eyes. “Wow” I said with bright eyes. Her tits were a smaller B cup, with areolas a shade darker than her skin tone, and stiff little nipples poking out.“They’re not too small?” she timidly asked.“God no, wow! You’re beautiful!” I said with a giddiness I couldn t suppress.She blushed and looked away shyly for a second. I remembered the pen in my hand, so I had her lay on her back so I could write on her cast.“To Suzanne, saving each other, saved for each other, Robert”As I was capping the pen her left hand pulled me down against her, and her lips rushed to meet mine. I had thought she had nice lips when I kissed her earlier, but that was mostly one-sided. This was phenomenal. I dropped the pen somewhere, and wrapped my arms around her. We kissed like this for minutes, or maybe it was days, I dunno, I didn’t care. She lay half across my lap, and I bent over her, our lips and tongues entwined for such a glorious time.It was never like this. I was always so nervous trying to kiss a girl before, but this was passion and perfection. We finally had to come up for air, and she smiled sweetly at me as she lay back on my bed. I guess that’s when she felt my erection pressing into her hip. Her eyes went wide, then she grinned up at me.“Am I as fetching as you thought?”“Yeah, fetching is not the half of it. Arousing, beautiful, and literally stunning. I have no more words.”“Shall I get the, um, the box, from your desk?” she offered.“Not yet.” I replied, hobbling up off the bed, then guiding her to her feet. I undid the zipper on her slacks, and slipped them down to pile up around her ankles. She kicked her shoes off and stepped out of her slacks. “Damn” I said. She was so pale and delicate. Not a small girl, probably the same height as me, but she was certainly slimmer than I was, overall.Her hands seemed to want to cover her boobs, but she fought that urge, standing before me as a lover, not a recently met stranger. I was drawn to her, & I could feel the pull, like gravity between us. She tentatively reached toward me, and I realized she wanted me as naked as she was, so we peeled off my polo shirt.She gasped, looked me up and down, her gaze settling on the sharply defined summit in my underwear. She reached out again, and clumsily pulled down the front of my briefs with her left hand. I hooked my thumb into the waistband behind me and it made her mission move along quickly. But as she leaned down to complete the descent, she nearly got poked in the eye.“Oh dear” she said as my stiff cock sprang free of its confinement and pointed upward toward her. “That’s so… different. Bigger.” Her eyes were wide now as she took in what was apparently her first sight of a full erection.I reached for her, and she started to back away, so I laid back down and waited. She fidgeted some more, some kind of internal debate, and then she knelt and leaned right up to me, nodding. “Okay” she said.I reached down again, and ever so slowly peeled her panties off. Fuck. A neat little triangle of sparse, dark hair was there, just above a puffy slit. I’d seen lots of porn, but this was not like any of that. All those porn stars shaved and trimmed and waxed away everything. This was whatever she had, all of it, come as you are.Her panties dropped to her knees, and I said “Wow. You’re beautiful.”“You think so?” she asked.“Oh yes, I know so.” I said with conviction.She smiled, then shifted nervously and flipped her panties to the floor. Then she paused again, a fleeting glance back to the desk. "Lay down here with me for a while.“ I said.Relaxing the tiniest bit, she laid alongside and half on me, and we embraced, as best we could with two limbs encased in plaster. We kissed again, and it was similar to before, but the extra skin contact made the sensation so much better. I put my hands to use, stroking her back, her neck, her tits, and her thighs as she shivered from my touch. Then she shifted onto her side and her left hand was around the back of my neck, drawing our kiss closer, pressing her pert tits into my chest, crushing me to her. As before, we kissed forever, it seemed. Once she let up on her clutching me, I gently rolled her onto her back, on the bed.I wanted to see that pussy. To touch it, smell it, taste it! I’d read about eating a girl out, I’d watched innumerable videos, and now I had the opportunity to try it. Some guys said it was gross, and wouldn’t do it. Some said it was the best way to get a girl worked up, so don’t mind the smell and taste, just do it. Me, I just wanted to find out what it was like, I didn’t care if it was good or bad, I was gonna do this.Gently, I scooted myself up, then farther down the bed. I pushed her legs apart, and she watched in wonder as I leaned down to look at her. Wow, this was amazing. "You’re beautiful” I said to her pussy. I leaned right in and kissed her patch. There was a sharp sour tang to her, but it wasn’t bad, just new, different. I swept my tongue along her slit, picking up even more of her strong flavour. Inside, it was different, still not good or bad, I guessed that this was just what a pussy tasted like.Again and again I lapped at her, and she got wetter and wetter. Her knees bent as she opened herself up, inviting me farther inside. This wetness might have been me drooling on her, or her arousal, I didn’t know. She was making joyous little noises up there, in time to my activities with my tongue. That felt good, really good, to me! I caressed her thighs, then ran my fingers through her delicate fur, and her hips moved in a way I had never imagined I would ever see. I could FEEL her arousal in that motion, she was so happy with what I was doing, and that made me happy!I knew her clitoris was supposed to be up here somewhere, so I began licking at the apex of her slit. Her soft cries and shudders let me now when I found it. Yes, there she was, and when I used my tongue the way I saw in those videos, she reacted with an astonishing cry and multiple thrusts of her hips. She practically bounced on the bed and yelped in her efforts to seemingly avoid my tongue and ram herself onto it at one and the same time.Her hand came down to twine her fingers in my hair, not too push me away, or even to draw me in, but just to make contact, to be part of what was happening to her. I continued to lick her clit gently, and her hips began a hypnotic rolling motion, over and over, slowly cycling up and down.I put a finger down where I thought her opening was, and moved it around, between her slick labia. I found what I sought, and as my finger slipped inside of her, the tone of her soft noises changed, from one of languid pleasure to one of lust and need. I continued this double activity, which came so much easier to me than the old patting-head and rubbing-tummy trick. I always botched that, but not this!I had thought that I’d made her cum a while earlier, when she’d made that louder noise, but I was wrong, or perhaps this was a new order of magnitude for her. This time her entire body tensed up, and she shook and made small gasping sounds for a half a minute. Now her hand was pushing me away, her breath rasping in her throat, as she’d had enough of this.“Oh, Robert” she whispered hoarsely.I sat up and let my casted leg hang over the side of the bed. Then I looked down upon her, spread out before me, spread eagle, gasping for air in her glory.“Did I do Okay?” I asked.She laughed weakly, then said; “I didn’t know it could be like that.”“Me neither.” I admitted.“Do, do we need those uh, things now?”“Condoms. Yes, we’ll need those, I hope?” I eager looked at her.“I’d get them, but I can’t seem to move right now, she revealed. Can I catch my breath for a bit?” She was still breathing heavily.“That’s Okay, we re in no hurry, I assured her.I felt like I would never tire of watching her when she was naked and aroused. Beautiful, amazing. After a while she struggled to sit up, difficult with one arm and tangled up with another person in bed. She stepped over to the desk and got out that box, then brought it to me. She sat down on the side of the bed and watched closely as I opened it and pulled out a strip of condoms. A folded instruction sheet fell out in my lap, and she picked it up. I tore one of the condom packages off the strip as she unfolded the paper & flipped it over to read the English side. I peered over her shoulder at the little diagram, and tore open the packet. Suzanne dropped the paper and looked closely at what I was doing as I squeezed the tip and rolled it on."That’s it?” she asked.“Yup, I think so, I surmised.She lifted her cast-encased arm and said "How do we do this?”“You on top, I think.”“On top?” she asked, “I don’t understand.”“Can I show you a video?” I offered.“Oh, Okay. You mean like, a porn video?”“Uh huh, so you can see what position might work.”“O, kay?”She got up, unplugged my laptop, and brought it over, placing it on our laps. I surfed to a site I knew had good videos. I typed cowgirl in the search box and scrolled through the resulting thumbnails. I soon found a promising one, and clicked on it. I had to fast forward through a lot of it, and she said “Go back to that last part.”I backed up a bit and she watched in rapt fascination as a girl on the screen took a guy’s cock deep into her mouth. “Can I try that?” she asked.“Sure! if you want.”The girl on the screen pulled away and continued to stroke the guy, his cum splattering her face, then she took him back in to finish.“Yew. Maybe not.”“Like I said, only if you want.”“Well, you did that for me, so maybe I should do that for you, too.”“Let’s find the bit we’re looking for first.”I skipped forward a bit more, then found the cowgirl segment. “See, she’s on top, our casts won’t be in the way too much like that. Plus, it gives you the ability to take things along as you re comfortable.We watched for a minute. "Okay, I can do that.” she said.Closing the laptop, she put it on the floor and slid it under the bed. She got off the bed, and let me shift around, and clambered back on. Straddling my thighs, she bit her lip and said, “It’s supposed to hurt the first time, isn’t it?”“I think so. You’ll have to be gentle.” That s why I wanted us to try it this way.She nodded, then reached down and grasped my cock. She took a few minutes to fondle and stroke my cock, with a look of curiosity, desire, and giddiness. She knelt straight up, and shifted her body forward to align her new play tool with her cunt, moving her hips and my cock, to find the right spot. Once engaged, she withdrew her hand and sank halfway down onto me.She froze, with a curious look on her face.“Huh” she groaned.“Oh god, Suzanne” I said, basking in the hot wet tightness of her pussy. It was incredible. I was gonna cum, and soon, this was so astonishingly good!She was descended in front of me, pert tits caped with tight hard nipples, hair hanging in disarray about her face, and her pussy - holy fuck - I could see my cock impaling her. Labia distended and wrapped around my shaft, and the sensations from inside her were amazing! As she raised back up, my cock looked like it had a pussy doughnut encircling it.It was like some weird sheathed hand, wrapped around my cock, with rippling touches here and there. Her thousand-yard stare suddenly focused back on me, and she said “Wow” and slid down my shaft until she bottomed out. “That didn’t hurt at all” she whispered in awe. “That feels so good! You feel so big inside me.”Recalling the video we’d previewed, she started humping and grinding and bouncing on my shaft. I was trying not to cum yet, I wanted to please her first, and luckily, what she was doing wasn’t over stimulating me. Except visually, I was getting so turned on by the sight of a naked girl getting turned on by my own cock! And guys are visual creatures, so it was difficult to hold back.But she did cum again, and hard, and I could feel it from the inside. Her orgasm was a rippling and clenching of muscles, both inside her pussy, and over her whole body. Her arms, her legs, her abs, everything tensed and shook. Maybe there s nothing so visually erotic as watching a sexy woman having a massive trance orgasm.And that was all I could stand before I exploded.I thought the condom was gonna explode, I pumped so much cum into it. The sight of her there, on me, cumming, fuck that was intense.When it had passed, she opened her eyes in wonder and looked down at me. “Oh god Robert, this is amazing! You’re amazing.” All I could do was smile up at her. Then she said “Did you finish yet?”“Oh Yeah."  I assured her.She smiled with a deep sense of accomplishment, then asked me; "Can I try that mouth thing?” Her innocence is so sexy.“A blowjob?" I asked."That’s a blowjob? she seemed inquisitive. I heard other people talk about it, but was always afraid to ask what it was. I really want to try that.”She rose up off of me and tried to get the condom off. Left handed wasn’t working well, so I removed it, and asked her to reach over to the desk for some tissues to clean up. “Thanks” she said, then she went around to the foot of the bed and crawled up to get at my cock.She sat cross-legged and leaned down to get closer to her new favorite sex toy.She held my semi-flaccid cock and gave the tip a tentative lick first, then smiled at me and licked harder. She spent a minute or so licking me like a popsicle. Wow, you taste sorta salty and manly she observed. Then she took my head into her mouth and I gasped and whimpered “Please, No teeth”.“Sorry.” she said. Then I was engulfed again, and she hummed on me, which wa

Cast-aways At College: part 2Survivors savor the joy of living, and their bravery turns to romantic discovery.By SilverFoxMullet.Listen to the ►Podcast at Steamy Stories.Luckily for me, my room was on the ground floor, as my building has no elevators. I had my key on a lanyard around my neck, and I unlocked the door. I let her precede me inside, and I shut the door once I got in. She looked around the room, which I usually keep fairly neat, but lately it’s been immaculate. I am not as active with crutches, so I’ve stayed in a fair bit the last couple of weeks. And I clean when I get bored.“Your room is so neat. I expected, um, sorry, a pigsty. You know, ‘guy’?”“It’s not usually this nice, but I’ve been staying in a lot recently." Tapping my cast for emphasis.She looked at my leg, then asked "Can I sign your cast?”“Only if I can sign yours." I negotiated."Deal. Got a pen?” She inquired.“Desk, top drawer." I responded, and suddenly thought. Oh No. "Uh, I’ll get one for you.”She was too quick, you know, having moveable feet and all, and she pulled the drawer open. First thing she sees is the unopened box of condoms my dorm buddies gave me for Christmas. Her eyebrows rose, and she put a finger on the still-sealed box. Then she turned bright red, and picked up a sharpie.“Your cast is covered up, I can’t get at it.” she said in a slightly quavering voice. She looked nervous and fidgety. I knew I was nervous as all hell. That box of condoms was meant as a joke, as I was notorious for not getting anywhere with the ladies. I’d kissed a couple of girls, but that was as far as I’d ever gotten. I just wasn’t able to pursue them the way other guys did. I always backed off. Just couldn’t put myself forward like that.I looked down at my leg, covered by the sweatpants. It took every ounce of bravery I could muster to open my mouth and say the words. “I’ll have to uncover it I guess.”She knelt in front of me. I could see how nervous she was. Hell, I could feel how nervous I was. “Suzanne? I, uh, I never-”“Me too." She affirmed.I looked in her eyes and asked; "Are you sure?”“Yes.” she said, and she reached for my waistband.“Wait.” I interrupted.She stopped, and had a fearful expression on her face, like I’d just said something that hurt her. Damn, that hurts me, to see her look of feeling rejected.“Let me get on the bed first, this chair is so uncomfortable.”“Oh, Okay. Can I help you?”“Yeah, just hold the chair still?”She got behind it, and I heard her say “Hey there’s brakes.” Once the brakes were set, it was easy to get out of the chair and sat the bed. She unset the brakes and slipped the chair into the corner, then knelt down before me again. This time I leaned back on my elbows & she reached out to pull down my sweats with a little more confidence. She got them to my knees, and stopped to pull off the shoe on my good leg.The sweats slipped off my legs, leaving me semi-reclined in my polo shirt and briefs. The briefs were definitely bulging now. She stared at my crotch for long enough that I became self-conscious, and I blushed almost as red as she was.Grinning big, she picked up the sharpie, then wrote a note on my cast.“To Robert, I saved myself for the one who saved my life, Suzanne”It was difficult to read from my angle, so she read it out loud to me. My heart started to race, and I felt a little dizzy. "Really?“ I said.She blushed harder, as if that were even possible, and looked at the floor."I think I’ve been saving myself for someone like you, too.” I said.She looked up at me, with what I thought was panic at first, but the smile that grew from that look was anything but panicked. I held out my hand for the pen. She sat to my left and held out her arm. It was covered by her blouse, so I said “Uh, It’s covered”.“Then you’ll have to uncover it I guess,” she beamed.She shifted up over me and I reached up with trembling fingers to work the front buttons on her silky long sleeved top. It felt like I had never operated a button in my life, I was so uncoordinated. But I finally got the job done, and her blouse fell open. I slid it off her far shoulder, and she pulled her left arm free. I stared in wonder at her tits. She didn’t have a bra on, probably because she needed both hands to get it on and off. Oh My Fucking God.I absently drew her blouse off her right shoulder, and slid the puffy long sleeve down & off her right arm and it's cast. Only then did I take in the veritable wonder of an actual pair of real live tits in front of my eyes. “Wow” I said with bright eyes. Her tits were a smaller B cup, with areolas a shade darker than her skin tone, and stiff little nipples poking out.“They’re not too small?” she timidly asked.“God no, wow! You’re beautiful!” I said with a giddiness I couldn t suppress.She blushed and looked away shyly for a second. I remembered the pen in my hand, so I had her lay on her back so I could write on her cast.“To Suzanne, saving each other, saved for each other, Robert”As I was capping the pen her left hand pulled me down against her, and her lips rushed to meet mine. I had thought she had nice lips when I kissed her earlier, but that was mostly one-sided. This was phenomenal. I dropped the pen somewhere, and wrapped my arms around her. We kissed like this for minutes, or maybe it was days, I dunno, I didn’t care. She lay half across my lap, and I bent over her, our lips and tongues entwined for such a glorious time.It was never like this. I was always so nervous trying to kiss a girl before, but this was passion and perfection. We finally had to come up for air, and she smiled sweetly at me as she lay back on my bed. I guess that’s when she felt my erection pressing into her hip. Her eyes went wide, then she grinned up at me.“Am I as fetching as you thought?”“Yeah, fetching is not the half of it. Arousing, beautiful, and literally stunning. I have no more words.”“Shall I get the, um, the box, from your desk?” she offered.“Not yet.” I replied, hobbling up off the bed, then guiding her to her feet. I undid the zipper on her slacks, and slipped them down to pile up around her ankles. She kicked her shoes off and stepped out of her slacks. “Damn” I said. She was so pale and delicate. Not a small girl, probably the same height as me, but she was certainly slimmer than I was, overall.Her hands seemed to want to cover her boobs, but she fought that urge, standing before me as a lover, not a recently met stranger. I was drawn to her, & I could feel the pull, like gravity between us. She tentatively reached toward me, and I realized she wanted me as naked as she was, so we peeled off my polo shirt.She gasped, looked me up and down, her gaze settling on the sharply defined summit in my underwear. She reached out again, and clumsily pulled down the front of my briefs with her left hand. I hooked my thumb into the waistband behind me and it made her mission move along quickly. But as she leaned down to complete the descent, she nearly got poked in the eye.“Oh dear” she said as my stiff cock sprang free of its confinement and pointed upward toward her. “That’s so… different. Bigger.” Her eyes were wide now as she took in what was apparently her first sight of a full erection.I reached for her, and she started to back away, so I laid back down and waited. She fidgeted some more, some kind of internal debate, and then she knelt and leaned right up to me, nodding. “Okay” she said.I reached down again, and ever so slowly peeled her panties off. Fuck. A neat little triangle of sparse, dark hair was there, just above a puffy slit. I’d seen lots of porn, but this was not like any of that. All those porn stars shaved and trimmed and waxed away everything. This was whatever she had, all of it, come as you are.Her panties dropped to her knees, and I said “Wow. You’re beautiful.”“You think so?” she asked.“Oh yes, I know so.” I said with conviction.She smiled, then shifted nervously and flipped her panties to the floor. Then she paused again, a fleeting glance back to the desk. "Lay down here with me for a while.“ I said.Relaxing the tiniest bit, she laid alongside and half on me, and we embraced, as best we could with two limbs encased in plaster. We kissed again, and it was similar to before, but the extra skin contact made the sensation so much better. I put my hands to use, stroking her back, her neck, her tits, and her thighs as she shivered from my touch. Then she shifted onto her side and her left hand was around the back of my neck, drawing our kiss closer, pressing her pert tits into my chest, crushing me to her. As before, we kissed forever, it seemed. Once she let up on her clutching me, I gently rolled her onto her back, on the bed.I wanted to see that pussy. To touch it, smell it, taste it! I’d read about eating a girl out, I’d watched innumerable videos, and now I had the opportunity to try it. Some guys said it was gross, and wouldn’t do it. Some said it was the best way to get a girl worked up, so don’t mind the smell and taste, just do it. Me, I just wanted to find out what it was like, I didn’t care if it was good or bad, I was gonna do this.Gently, I scooted myself up, then farther down the bed. I pushed her legs apart, and she watched in wonder as I leaned down to look at her. Wow, this was amazing. "You’re beautiful” I said to her pussy. I leaned right in and kissed her patch. There was a sharp sour tang to her, but it wasn’t bad, just new, different. I swept my tongue along her slit, picking up even more of her strong flavour. Inside, it was different, still not good or bad, I guessed that this was just what a pussy tasted like.Again and again I lapped at her, and she got wetter and wetter. Her knees bent as she opened herself up, inviting me farther inside. This wetness might have been me drooling on her, or her arousal, I didn’t know. She was making joyous little noises up there, in time to my activities with my tongue. That felt good, really good, to me! I caressed her thighs, then ran my fingers through her delicate fur, and her hips moved in a way I had never imagined I would ever see. I could FEEL her arousal in that motion, she was so happy with what I was doing, and that made me happy!I knew her clitoris was supposed to be up here somewhere, so I began licking at the apex of her slit. Her soft cries and shudders let me now when I found it. Yes, there she was, and when I used my tongue the way I saw in those videos, she reacted with an astonishing cry and multiple thrusts of her hips. She practically bounced on the bed and yelped in her efforts to seemingly avoid my tongue and ram herself onto it at one and the same time.Her hand came down to twine her fingers in my hair, not too push me away, or even to draw me in, but just to make contact, to be part of what was happening to her. I continued to lick her clit gently, and her hips began a hypnotic rolling motion, over and over, slowly cycling up and down.I put a finger down where I thought her opening was, and moved it around, between her slick labia. I found what I sought, and as my finger slipped inside of her, the tone of her soft noises changed, from one of languid pleasure to one of lust and need. I continued this double activity, which came so much easier to me than the old patting-head and rubbing-tummy trick. I always botched that, but not this!I had thought that I’d made her cum a while earlier, when she’d made that louder noise, but I was wrong, or perhaps this was a new order of magnitude for her. This time her entire body tensed up, and she shook and made small gasping sounds for a half a minute. Now her hand was pushing me away, her breath rasping in her throat, as she’d had enough of this.“Oh, Robert” she whispered hoarsely.I sat up and let my casted leg hang over the side of the bed. Then I looked down upon her, spread out before me, spread eagle, gasping for air in her glory.“Did I do Okay?” I asked.She laughed weakly, then said; “I didn’t know it could be like that.”“Me neither.” I admitted.“Do, do we need those uh, things now?”“Condoms. Yes, we’ll need those, I hope?” I eager looked at her.“I’d get them, but I can’t seem to move right now, she revealed. Can I catch my breath for a bit?” She was still breathing heavily.“That’s Okay, we re in no hurry, I assured her.I felt like I would never tire of watching her when she was naked and aroused. Beautiful, amazing. After a while she struggled to sit up, difficult with one arm and tangled up with another person in bed. She stepped over to the desk and got out that box, then brought it to me. She sat down on the side of the bed and watched closely as I opened it and pulled out a strip of condoms. A folded instruction sheet fell out in my lap, and she picked it up. I tore one of the condom packages off the strip as she unfolded the paper & flipped it over to read the English side. I peered over her shoulder at the little diagram, and tore open the packet. Suzanne dropped the paper and looked closely at what I was doing as I squeezed the tip and rolled it on."That’s it?” she asked.“Yup, I think so, I surmised.She lifted her cast-encased arm and said "How do we do this?”“You on top, I think.”“On top?” she asked, “I don’t understand.”“Can I show you a video?” I offered.“Oh, Okay. You mean like, a porn video?”“Uh huh, so you can see what position might work.”“O, kay?”She got up, unplugged my laptop, and brought it over, placing it on our laps. I surfed to a site I knew had good videos. I typed cowgirl in the search box and scrolled through the resulting thumbnails. I soon found a promising one, and clicked on it. I had to fast forward through a lot of it, and she said “Go back to that last part.”I backed up a bit and she watched in rapt fascination as a girl on the screen took a guy’s cock deep into her mouth. “Can I try that?” she asked.“Sure! if you want.”The girl on the screen pulled away and continued to stroke the guy, his cum splattering her face, then she took him back in to finish.“Yew. Maybe not.”“Like I said, only if you want.”“Well, you did that for me, so maybe I should do that for you, too.”“Let’s find the bit we’re looking for first.”I skipped forward a bit more, then found the cowgirl segment. “See, she’s on top, our casts won’t be in the way too much like that. Plus, it gives you the ability to take things along as you re comfortable.We watched for a minute. "Okay, I can do that.” she said.Closing the laptop, she put it on the floor and slid it under the bed. She got off the bed, and let me shift around, and clambered back on. Straddling my thighs, she bit her lip and said, “It’s supposed to hurt the first time, isn’t it?”“I think so. You’ll have to be gentle.” That s why I wanted us to try it this way.She nodded, then reached down and grasped my cock. She took a few minutes to fondle and stroke my cock, with a look of curiosity, desire, and giddiness. She knelt straight up, and shifted her body forward to align her new play tool with her cunt, moving her hips and my cock, to find the right spot. Once engaged, she withdrew her hand and sank halfway down onto me.She froze, with a curious look on her face.“Huh” she groaned.“Oh god, Suzanne” I said, basking in the hot wet tightness of her pussy. It was incredible. I was gonna cum, and soon, this was so astonishingly good!She was descended in front of me, pert tits caped with tight hard nipples, hair hanging in disarray about her face, and her pussy - holy fuck - I could see my cock impaling her. Labia distended and wrapped around my shaft, and the sensations from inside her were amazing! As she raised back up, my cock looked like it had a pussy doughnut encircling it.It was like some weird sheathed hand, wrapped around my cock, with rippling touches here and there. Her thousand-yard stare suddenly focused back on me, and she said “Wow” and slid down my shaft until she bottomed out. “That didn’t hurt at all” she whispered in awe. “That feels so good! You feel so big inside me.”Recalling the video we’d previewed, she started humping and grinding and bouncing on my shaft. I was trying not to cum yet, I wanted to please her first, and luckily, what she was doing wasn’t over stimulating me. Except visually, I was getting so turned on by the sight of a naked girl getting turned on by my own cock! And guys are visual creatures, so it was difficult to hold back.But she did cum again, and hard, and I could feel it from the inside. Her orgasm was a rippling and clenching of muscles, both inside her pussy, and over her whole body. Her arms, her legs, her abs, everything tensed and shook. Maybe there s nothing so visually erotic as watching a sexy woman having a massive trance orgasm.And that was all I could stand before I exploded.I thought the condom was gonna explode, I pumped so much cum into it. The sight of her there, on me, cumming, fuck that was intense.When it had passed, she opened her eyes in wonder and looked down at me. “Oh god Robert, this is amazing! You’re amazing.” All I could do was smile up at her. Then she said “Did you finish yet?”“Oh Yeah."  I assured her.She smiled with a deep sense of accomplishment, then asked me; "Can I try that mouth thing?” Her innocence is so sexy.“A blowjob?" I asked."That’s a blowjob? she seemed inquisitive. I heard other people talk about it, but was always afraid to ask what it was. I really want to try that.”She rose up off of me and tried to get the condom off. Left handed wasn’t working well, so I removed it, and asked her to reach over to the desk for some tissues to clean up. “Thanks” she said, then she went around to the foot of the bed and crawled up to get at my cock.She sat cross-legged and leaned down to get closer to her new favorite sex toy.She held my semi-flaccid cock and gave the tip a tentative lick first, then smiled at me and licked harder. She spent a minute or so licking me like a popsicle. Wow, you taste sorta salty and manly she observed. Then she took my head into her mouth and I gasped and whimpered “Please, No teeth”.“Sorry.” she said. Then I was engulfed again, and she hummed on me, which wa

#top .av-special-heading.av-gs9o3p-a755bad1ace60f2ef694480638fe43ba{ padding-bottom:10px; } body .av-special-heading.av-gs9o3p-a755bad1ace60f2ef694480638fe43ba .av-special-heading-tag .heading-char{ font-size:25px; } .av-special-heading.av-gs9o3p-a755bad1ace60f2ef694480638fe43ba .av-subheading{ font-size:15px; } Through My Bible Yr 03 – February 23Luke 9:1-17 LISTEN HERE Through My Bible – February 23 Luke 9:1-17 (EHV) https://wels2.blob.core.windows.net/tmb-ehv/03-0223db.mp3 See series: Through My Bible Luke 9 Jesus Sends Out the Twelve 1 Jesus called the Twelve [1] together and gave them power and authority over all demons and to cure diseases. 2 He sent them out to proclaim the kingdom of God and to heal the sick. 3 He said to them, “Take nothing for the journey—no staff, no bag, no bread, no money; and do not take two coats. [2] 4 Whatever house you enter, stay there until you leave. 5 If they do not welcome you, when you leave that town, shake off the dust from your feet as a testimony against them.” 6 They set out and went throughout the villages, proclaiming the good news and healing everywhere. Recalling the Death of John the Baptist 7 Herod the tetrarch heard about everything that was happening, and he was quite puzzled because some said that John had risen from the dead. 8 Others said that Elijah had appeared, and still others that one of the ancient prophets had risen. 9 But Herod said, “I beheaded John, but who is this, about whom I hear such great things?” So he wanted to see him. Jesus Feeds More Than Five Thousand 10 The apostles returned and told Jesus what they had done. He took them and withdrew privately to a town called Bethsaida. 11 But when the crowds found out, they followed him. He welcomed them and spoke to them about the kingdom of God. He also healed those who needed healing. 12 As the day began to draw to a close, the Twelve came and said to him, “Dismiss the crowd so that they can go to the surrounding villages and farms to find lodging and food, because we are in a deserted place here.” 13 But he said to them, “You give them something to eat.” “We have no more than five loaves and two fish,” they replied, “unless we go and buy food for all these people.” 14 (There were about five thousand men.) He said to his disciples, “Have them sit down in groups of about fifty each.” 15 They did so and got them all to sit down. 16 Then Jesus took the five loaves and the two fish, and, looking up to heaven, he blessed and broke them. Then he kept giving them to the disciples to set before the crowd. 17 They all ate and were satisfied. And they picked up twelve basketfuls of the broken pieces that were left over. Footnotes Luke 9:1 Some witnesses to the text read twelve apostles. Luke 9:3 Or tunics #top .hr.hr-invisible.av-aocsdx-89cb4ca21532423cf697fc393b6fcee0{ height:10px; } The Holy Bible, Evangelical Heritage Version®, EHV®, © 2019 Wartburg Project, Inc. All rights reserved. #top .hr.hr-invisible.av-4vzadh-3f04b370105df1fd314a2a9d83e55b26{ height:50px; } Share this entryShare on FacebookShare on LinkedInShare by MailLink to FlickrLink to InstagramLink to Vimeo

Reflection on Preaching and Unworthiness Feeling unworthy to preach, considering the great men who have preached before. Feeling like “the least of the least.” Finding strength in God’s presence and help. Acknowledging dependence on God, stating, “It has to be God in it or nothing good will come out of it.” Requesting prayers due to feeling unwell and facing spiritual opposition. Experiencing difficulties in studying due to various distractions. Finding peace through God’s assurance: “I’ve got you. We can do this.” Focusing on magnifying God through testimony. Sharing personal testimony as a way to magnify God. Experiencing blessings from God for this approach. Testimony of Past Struggles and Salvation Having a tough life and experiencing bad things. Being raised in church with a preacher father, but still making wrong choices. Acknowledging that upbringing doesn’t guarantee salvation. Recognizing personal responsibility for choices. Experiencing a difficult breakup 25 years ago and seeking to fill a void. Turning to drugs and alcohol, which provided temporary relief but worsened problems. Facing dangerous situations and engaging in harmful behaviors. Having guns pulled, being stabbed, and experiencing jail time. Acknowledging having done “about every bad thing you can do.” Experiencing a turning point about a year ago when God intervened. Overdosing on drugs and being revived multiple times. Feeling death approaching and hearing a voice offering a choice between God and goodbye. Promising to live for God if given another chance. Waking up in the hospital without withdrawal symptoms or cravings. Experiencing no withdrawal symptoms from heroin addiction. Having no desire to return to a former lifestyle. Being called to preach and share testimony. Seeking to share testimony in jail to prevent others from making similar mistakes. Expressing gratitude for God’s unwavering hold and protection. Believing that God maintains a “hedge of protection” even when one strays. Scripture Reading and Prayer Reading Proverbs 3:5-9 about trusting in the Lord, acknowledging Him, and honoring Him with substance. “Trust in the Lord with all thine heart, and lean not unto thy own understanding.” “In all thy ways acknowledge him, and he shall direct thy paths.” “Honor the Lord with thy substance, and with the firstfruits of thine increase.” Offering a prayer for guidance and help in delivering God’s message. Feeling inadequate but acknowledging that “little is much when you’re in it, God.” Asking God to remove self and use Brother Dan to help others avoid a destructive path. Praying for God to anoint Brother Dan and use the message for His purpose. God’s Plan and Protection Reflecting on God’s goodness and protection even during times of sin. Recognizing God’s “shield of protection” during past sinful behavior. Believing God knew Brother Dan would return and live for Him. Emphasizing God’s plan for everyone and His ability to redirect those who stray. Referencing James 4:8: “Draw near to God and He’ll draw near to you. Submit yourselves to God and resist the devil and he’ll flee.” Highlighting the need for faith, trust, and reliance on God. Asserting that God is the answer to every problem, including drug addiction. Sharing personal experience as proof of God’s power to overcome addiction. Expressing gratitude for prayers offered during times of living in the world. Acknowledging the impact of prayers from family and others. Recognizing the importance of serving God fully and consistently. Feeling convicted about not always giving 100% to serving God. Emphasizing the need to serve God not only for oneself but also for loved ones and co-workers. Highlighting the importance of living a consistent Christian life. Recognizing that one may be the only “Bible” some people read. Promises of God and Personal Reliance Reading Psalm 91 about dwelling in God’s secret place and finding refuge. “He that dwelleth in the secret place of the most High shall abide under the shadow of the Almighty.” “I will say of the Lord, He is my refuge and my fortress: my God; in Him will I trust.” Trusting in God more and experiencing positive changes. Noting that things work out when relying on God, unlike when living for the devil. Describing the deceptive nature of worldly temptations. Drugs initially seem good but ultimately lead to destruction. Emphasizing that God sees the whole picture and desires what is best. Recognizing that God’s plan may differ from personal desires but is ultimately better. Acknowledging God’s deliverance from the snare of the fowler. Expressing gratitude for being delivered from the devil’s grip. Realizing that personal stubbornness and the devil’s influence contributed to past struggles. Taking responsibility for past choices and acknowledging the importance of staying near God. Stating, “God didn’t put me there. I put myself there.” Highlighting the importance of being a doer of the word, not just a hearer. Referencing Hebrews on the importance of acting on what is heard. Overcoming Temptation and Sin Recognizing the tendency to be mentally absent during church services. Acknowledging the struggle with the “old flesh” that resists participation. Finding prayer as an escape route from temptation. Believing that God provides a way out of temptation. Understanding that sin separates us from God. Referencing Isaiah 59:1-2 about iniquities separating us from God. Emphasizing the importance of repentance and forgiveness. Recognizing that living in sin leads to missed blessings. Expressing gratitude for the Holy Spirit’s guidance and conviction. Appreciating the conscience that helps in making good decisions. Finding protection under God’s wings and truth as a shield. “He shall cover thee with his feathers, and under his wings shalt thou trust: his truth shall be thy shield and buckler.” Letting God Work and the Assurance of Salvation Recognizing that we often hinder God’s work due to worldly desires. Prioritizing work over church and making excuses to avoid serving God. Highlighting God’s care, guidance, and protection. Acknowledging God’s role in making crooked places straight. Sharing personal experiences of God’s faithfulness and protection. Recalling near-death experiences where God intervened. Emphasizing the importance of prayer and righteous living for the salvation of loved ones. Recognizing the power of prayer and its impact on daily life. Understanding that trials grow faith. Comparing trials to working out muscles at the gym. Expressing gratitude for God’s sacrifice and the promise of heaven. Knowing that God created heaven for everyone, even sinners. Reiterating that God will do anything for our betterment if we trust and believe. Encouraging everyone to have the assurance of salvation. Inviting those without assurance to seek guidance. Expressing hope that something said will be helpful. Acknowledging the message may be scattered but trusting God’s word will accomplish its purpose. Offering encouragement to those struggling with addiction or having loved ones who are. Believing that the same God who delivered Brother Dan can deliver others. Urging the church to focus on serving God and living righteously. Emphasizing the importance of speaking boldly about God.

Professor Dante Lauretta discusses his book The Asteroid Hunter and his early career at the University of Arizona's Lunar and Planetary Laboratory, recalling how mentor Mike Drake and Lockheed Martin recruited him in 2004 for a daring asteroid sample return mission despite early rejections.

“Our Teacher” is a collection of essays written by students of Falun Dafa (also known as Falun Gong). This series is comprised of their personal experiences with the practice and their interactions with Dafa's founder, Mr. Li Hongzhi, when the practice was first taught to the public. The writings were originally published on the Minghui website. Original Articles:1. Looking at an Old Photo and Recalling Master’s Lectures in Wuhan City2. Remembering Master’s First Series of Lectures To provide feedback on this podcast, please email us at feedback@minghuiradio.org

Whether free and fair elections can be saved with the SAVE Act is the first topic of debate this week, along with a celebration of the Trump Administration rolling back the EPA's power to make our energy scarce and expensive. Steve describes this bold step as the “Inchon Landing” in the war against the administrative […]

Whether free and fair elections can be saved with the SAVE Act is the first topic of debate this week, along with a celebration of the Trump Administration rolling back the EPA's power to make our energy scarce and expensive. Steve describes this bold step as the "Inchon Landing" in the war against the administrative state. Forget Nixon-to-China cliches: only Trump could take such a bold step that no other conventional Republican would dare take. We also spend a good deal of time recalling the passing, ten years ago now, of Justice Antonin Scalia, whose shadow over contemporary jurisprudence continues to lengthen. We think Scalia is displacing Holmes as the most significant jurist of the last century for his enduring influence and for his central role in reviving constituitional originalism, even though he once described himself as a "faint-hearted originalist." There's a paradox at work in Scalia's jurisprudential legacy that requires someone like G.K. Chesterton to understand—and that, kids, ought to be a strong hint as to exactly what it is.

“Our Teacher” is a collection of essays written by students of Falun Dafa (also known as Falun Gong). This series is comprised of their personal experiences with the practice and their interactions with Dafa's founder, Mr. Li Hongzhi, when the practice was first taught to the public. The writings were originally published on the Minghui website. Original Articles:1. Recalling Teacher’s Guangzhou Seminars2. The Day I Obtained the Fa3. Precious Memories: An Eternal Witness (Part 4) To provide feedback on this podcast, please email us at feedback@minghuiradio.org

The Rebbe acknowledges news of forming N'shei u'Bnos Chabad and expresses surprise at the lack of updates. Recalling the Previous Rebbe's deep devotion to this cause, he assures that sincere effort will bring success beyond nature, and blesses continued growth in spreading the wellsprings. https://www.torahrecordings.com/rebbe/igroskodesh/016/005/6047

Host Michael Azevedo is joined on this episode by first-time director Vivien Hillgrove and producer Deann Borshay Liem to discuss a truly engaging and poignant personal documentary called “Vivien's Wild Ride,” which will premiere on PBS on January 26.    Vivien Hillgrove has been a film and sound editor all her adult life.    She's worked with many filmmaking greats including: Francis Ford Coppola, Phillip Kaufman, Milos Forman, and Walter Murch, along with a who's who of celebrated documentary filmmakers.    When Vivien's eyesight starts to deteriorate, the shame and loneliness she felt in 1964, when she was forced to relinquish her baby as a teenage unwed mother, at at time when there were few choices for women, was a loss that resonated throughout her life.   Now she faces a new feeling of isolation and loss. Recalling her resilience as a young woman, Vivien summons it anew and reinvents herself as a person with a new way of being and seeing, an artist with a disability.   Making Media Now is sponsored by Filmmakers Collaborative, a non-profit organization dedicated to supporting media makers from across the creative spectrum. From providing fiscal sponsorship to presenting an array of informative and educational programs, Filmmakers Collaborative supports creatives at every step in their journey. About the host: www.writevoicecreative.com and https://www.linkedin.com/in/michael-azevedo/   Sound Engineer: A.J. Kierstead

“Our Teacher” is a collection of essays written by students of Falun Dafa (also known as Falun Gong). This series is comprised of their personal experiences with the practice and their interactions with Dafa's founder, Mr. Li Hongzhi, when the practice was first taught to the public. The writings were originally published on the Minghui website. Original Articles:1. A Precious Memory from 1994: Recalling Master’s Fifth Lecture Series in Guangzhou2. Wonderful Recollection — Immersed in the Light of the FaTo provide feedback on this podcast, please email us at feedback@minghuiradio.org

Introduction Expressing gratitude and acknowledging a shift in the intended message. Originally planned to preach from scriptures. Felt divinely led to share a personal experience and message. Overcoming Paralysis Through Faith Sharing a personal experience of paralysis and recovery. Paralyzed from the neck down for nine months. Doctors predicted permanent paralysis. Experienced divine intervention and regained mobility. Able to walk and use arms again. God’s Purpose in Suffering God communicated a purpose during paralysis: to preach. Emphasizing that God has a purpose regardless of physical condition. Whether on a bike, in a wheelchair, or on the phone. Importance of obedience to God’s will. Striving for perfection and following God’s guidance. The Nature of Faith and Trust Acknowledging the universality of worry and doubt. Everyone experiences worry at some point. Worry leads to doubting faith. People often try to handle problems independently. Defining faith and trust from a pocket Bible dictionary. Faith: Belief and confidence in the testimony of another, especially God’s promise of salvation and eternal life through Jesus. Highlighting the importance of trust. Trust: Putting confidence in a person or thing; God’s name and words are worthy of trust. Emphasizing total confidence in God. Relying on God’s Understanding Admonition to not lean on one’s own understanding. Personal admission of making mistakes when relying on self. Decision to follow God’s guidance without looking back. Overcoming shyness and discomfort with public speaking. God’s Purpose for Everyone God has a purpose for every individual. Challenging the notion that all roles in the church are filled. There is always work to be done for God. Suggesting that a lack of need indicates the Lord’s return. Hebrews 11:6 and the Importance of Faith Reading and emphasizing Hebrews 11:6. “Without faith it is impossible to please him.” Belief in God and His ability to do all things. Faith and Overcoming Obstacles Faith can move mountains with God’s help. Necessity of work and effort alongside faith. Using the analogy of digging with a shovel. God wants people to work and trust in Him. The Story of Doubting Thomas Paraphrasing and reading from Matthew 20:24 about Doubting Thomas. Thomas’s disbelief in Jesus’s resurrection without physical proof. Thomas wanted to see the nail prints and touch Jesus’ side. Personal Testimony of Faith Without Seeing Never seen Jesus face-to-face but has heard His voice. Belief in the Bible’s promise of seeing Jesus one day. Knowing Jesus before meeting Him physically. Experiencing Christ’s Call Describing the unique experience of hearing Christ’s voice. Recalling the moment of conviction before turning life over to God. Hearing “Tony!” while driving and immediately stopping to pray. Transformation and commitment to following God. The Better Life with God Life is better with God, despite not being perfect. Earth is not our permanent home; heaven is the ultimate destination. Heaven and Hell Addressing the reality of hell, which many preachers avoid. Critique of churches focused on superficial aspects. Latte bars and donut shops instead of spiritual depth. Holding the Original Promise Christ holds the key to the gates of heaven. The Uncertainty of Life and the Need to Be Ready The day of birth is also the day one could die. The Bible instructs to always be ready. Need to be ready always. Avoiding Complacency Worrying about forgetting to thank God for blessings. The importance of praying without ceasing. Starting the day with gratitude to God. Thankfulness for blessings and answered prayers. Faith as Essential None of the above is good without faith. Hebrews 20:13 and the Desire for a Heavenly Country Reading from Hebrews 20:13 about dying in faith and seeking a better country. Confessing to being strangers and pilgrims on earth. Desiring a heavenly country prepared by God. Belief in Heaven Asking if the audience believes God has prepared a place in heaven. Maintaining faith and trust in God to reach that place. The Choice Between Heaven and Hell It is not God’s intention for anyone to stay on earth permanently. The choice between dying and going to hell or dying and living forever. The soul will lift up after the body is gone. Scripture says, absent from the body, present in the Lord. Readiness for Home Expressing readiness to go home to heaven. Looking forward to seeing Jesus, family, and friends. Meeting Jesus Jesus will come to get believers and lead them across the river. Envisioning this to overcome life’s turmoil. Envisioning seeing Jesus helps with burdens and trials. Paul’s Thorn and God’s Grace Paul’s prayer to remove a thorn in his side. The nature of the thorn is unknown, possibly cancer. God’s response: “My grace is sufficient.” The Power of Grace and Faith Seeking grace and keeping trust in God. The devil cannot overcome those with faith and grace. The Devil’s Attacks The devil attacks those who step up and do something for God. Experiencing increased challenges after answering God’s call. Maintaining Composure Through Faith Letting go of anger and trusting God to handle situations. God will take care of and get us through any situation. Repentance Striving daily and acknowledging imperfections. God provided repentance at Calvary. The need for daily repentance. Avoiding Frustration Avoiding frustration, especially while driving. Letting others pass and trusting in God’s protection. Life is going by fast enough. Final Thoughts and Admonitions Pray with faith. Seek Him daily. Be obedient to what God reveals to your own heart. Not what God reveals to others. Focusing on personal obedience avoids being a busybody. Mind Your Business Avoid being in everyone else’s business. Checking on sick or needy brothers and sisters is different. Judging others is being too busy. Focus on personal problems and self-improvement. Expect His Reward Trust God for peace, direction, healing, provisions, and understanding. Always according to His will and timing. Don’t Forget Him Leave it with God. Don’t try to take care of God. Trust, don’t just perform rituals or works. God is pleased by genuine faith and a surrendered heart. Everyone needs to get out of here talking to the Lord. Not just the preacher. Testimony Every child of God has a testimony. Sharing testimonies can touch the world. Those who have been saved have a testimony. God’s Grace Saved by God’s amazing grace, undeservedly. Name written in the Lamb’s Book of Life. A merciful God who saves by grace. Feeling God’s Presence The great feeling of feeling God’s loving arms. Being lifted up in prayer. The Power of Faith A mustard seed can spread and grow. Faith will get stronger and mightier. God’s Presence in the Church God is here to meet needs. Contrast between churches with a cold feeling and those filled with the Spirit. The importance of letting God run a mince between all of us. Spirit-Filled Churches Spirit-filled churches allow people to shout and express joy. Avoiding long-windedness and focusing on God’s presence. Being on God’s side, not one’s own. Taking as much time as God wants. Needing more people to get that way for more blessings and joy. Praising God It’s impossible to please God. Wondering if we’re pleasing Him.

Sun. January 11, 2026: "Celebrating Your Baptism, Recalling Your Identity, Purpose, and Mission" -Rev. Anthony Hoangphan

If you're seeking deeper connections, hope through life transitions, and inspiration for your own purposeful living, this episode is for you. In this episode, I sit down with Iris Huang, multicultural executive coach, global citizen (hello, Uruguay + Taiwan roots!), and my inspiring peer from the Berkeley Executive Coaching Institute. This episode is a celebration of how two “third culture kids” find belonging, spark each other's growth, and co-create meaning in a world that demands we code-switch every day.Iris and I break down how building connections online (yes, on a random alumni Zoom!) leads to powerful, real-world breakthroughs. Hear her story of feeling “stuck” on her path from corporate leader to solopreneur coach…and how a single conversation unlocked a wave of clarity and action for both of us. We talk about cross-cultural identity, what belonging really means, our favorite code-switching adventures (from Moscow to Dallas!), and why finding YOUR circle isn't just heartwarming, it's a survival skill for the soul.Packed with behind-the-scenes stories, actionable insights, and plenty of laughs (plus surprise Spanish!), this episode embodies the true spirit of the Circle of Influencers. Get ready to rethink how you connect, lead, and grow. Watch This If:· You're experiencing or contemplating a major life transition and yearn for more hope, belonging, and purpose· You lead (or want to lead) with emotional intelligence and authenticity and wonder what it really takes to connect deeply in a digital age· You feel like an “in-betweener”—multicultural, multi-hyphenate, or just searching for your circle· You're curious about how meaningful connection sparks personal growth, creativity, and resilience—especially for women, leaders, and entrepreneurs· You believe in the power of shared stories to transform, heal, and guide you toward purpose-driven livingEpisode Highlights (with Timestamps):00:00 — Meet Iris Huang & the story of our first connection02:13 — Recalling how a single breakout room sparked a lasting friendship09:00 — Progress, paralysis, & the courage to start (the domain name story!)17:00 — Hope and resilience: becoming your own challenger and finding your parallel people25:00 — Code-switching, belonging, and building your herd across cultures36:00 — Powerful moments of being “seen” as a multicultural leader47:00 — Authentic leadership and emotional intelligence in action56:00 — What elephants and humans teach us about connection1:00:00 — Final reflections & staying connected in a changing worldWhat You'll Learn:How to cultivate hope and resilience in the midst of uncertainty, change, or self-doubtWhy personal growth conversations—especially with fellow seekers and mentors—are catalysts for authentic leadership and purpose-driven livingThe key mindsets and behaviors that drive emotional intelligence and meaningful connection (in life, leadership, and entrepreneurship!)How to consciously create belonging and “find your herd,” whether in a new country, a new professional arena, or your own familyThe truth about code-switching, self-acceptance, and redefining identity as a strength for career and life transitions Actionable tips for sparking deep connections, digitally or in-personand why every “hello” could change your lifeResources MentionedStrengthsFinder assessment (discover your top strengths: https://www.gallup.com/cliftonstrengths)Alison Armstrong's “Understanding Men” & “Understanding Women” courses: https://www.alisonarmstrong.com/ Contact Information:Guest: Iris HuangLinkedIn: www.linkedin.com/in/irishuang1Website: [Coming soon—stay tuned!] #CircleOfHopePodcast #ExecutiveCoaching #cross-cultural #multicultural #Connection #codeswitchingKnow someone who's nourishing their circle or needs a reminder that growth starts with connection? Rate and share this episode to invite others into our Circle of Hope.Join us in the conversation -

“Our Teacher” is a collection of essays written by students of Falun Dafa (also known as Falun Gong). This series is comprised of their personal experiences with the practice and their interactions with Dafa's founder, Mr. Li Hongzhi, when the practice was first taught to the public. The writings were originally published on the Minghui website. Original Articles:1. Recalling Several Occasions When Master Taught the Fa in Shijiazhuang2. Looking Back to 1994: Attending Master Li Hongzhi’s Lectures in Harbin, China3. Recalling Teacher’s Grace to Encourage Myself to Become More Diligent in CultivationTo provide feedback on this podcast, please email us at feedback@minghuiradio.org

We learn plenty from Tampa International Airport CEO Michael Stephens during a special interview on "Florida Matters Live & Local." Also, a bit of local history you may not know about.Call: 813-755-6562Message: FloridaMatters@wusf.orgWebsite: https://www.wusf.orgSign up for our daily newsletter: https://www.wusf.org/wakeupcall-newsletterFollow us on social media:Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/WUSFInstagram: https://www.instagram.com/wusfpublicmedia/YouTube: https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCsN1ZItTKcJ4AGsBIni35gg

The highly anticipated winner-take-all Week 18 between the 49ers and Seahawks didn't quite live up to the hype. Seattle's defense stifled San Francisco's offense, as the Seahawks pulled out a 13-3 win to secure the NFC West title and the conference's No. 1 seed, while the 49ers now have a more difficult postseason path on the road. On this episode of "49ers Talk," co-hosts Matt Maiocco and Jennifer Lee Chan discuss how the Seahawks thoroughly outplayed the 49ers from their potent rushing attack to their unrelenting pressure on the defensive line. Matt and Jennifer also discuss some silver-linings as the 49ers hit the road for the NFL playoffs and how some scenarios are more favorable than others.--(0:00) Week 18 regular-season finale didn't live up to the hype(1:30) Recalling last time 49ers scored three points or fewer(6:00) Purdy pressured by Seattle's D-line all night(7:30) 49ers looked slow and for good reason, playing third game in 13 days(11:00) Missed tackles were a huge issue for the 49ers in loss(16:00) Greg Papa, the voice of the 49ers, returns to radio booth(18:00) 49ers now must make improbable run during playoffs(20:00) Looking ahead to 49ers' possible first-round playoff opponents(25:00) 49ers' don't have much margin for error, but goal still attainable Hosted by Simplecast, an AdsWizz company. See pcm.adswizz.com for information about our collection and use of personal data for advertising.

Listen to the explanation at the beginning of this episode to understand why you will be hearing a replay of episode #86. The danger of disinformation to our social fabric, and to our democracy, are the focus of this discussion with philosopher, educator and author, Lee McIntyre. Lee holds a Ph.D. in philosophy and is currently a Research Fellow at the Center for Philosophy and History of Science at Boston University. His latest book, "Disinformation-How to fight for Truth and Protect Democracy", is even more relevant in 2025 than when it first came out in 2023.

In this episode of Opinions Matter, Adrian and Jeremy discuss a shocking court case involving Dublin mother Sandra Barry, who received a six-month jail sentence for sending threatening messages to politician Simon Harris. Was her behavior a moment of madness or a serious crime? Jeremy also revealed detailed of very sinister online trolling/threats he received which ended up in the courts.

We bid a fond farewell to the legendary actor, director, producer, humanitarian, activist, and cultivator of emerging talent with a program of films from the period in which Robert Redford came into his fullest self. Starting with the pivitol year of 1969, when he made Downhill Racer and Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid, through the early '80s when he made his astonishing directorial debut, Ordinary People, and set the image for his future on screen with The Natural. Recalling many stories and anecdotes we pay tribute to one of the biggest icons of the movies at the end of a year that saw the passing of far too many cinema greats. 

Beloved, The holidays often bring up old patterns, don't they?Perhaps you find yourself saying yes when you want to say no. Or feeling responsible for everyone's happiness. Or shrinking yourself to keep the peace.These aren't random behaviors. They're unconscious emotional contracts - silent agreements you made long ago that continue to shape your reality today.There is an absence of understanding in western culture about how deeply harmful loneliness is for humans, and how important it is that we learn to cultivate warmth for ourselves. The Silent Agreements Shaping Your Reality (And How to Break Free)We do not receive enough warmth, and not having internalized a loving resonating self-witness, “alarmed aloneness grows.” Understanding how and why human brains need warmth is a key reason why resonant healing works to repattern our nervous systems toward kindness and resilience.Self-warmth is about the integration and internalization of experiences of affection, presence, understanding, and kindness that come to us from others. Empathic brings this forward in a step by step contract release process. If we haven't received this as young ones, we can build it ourselves.Empathica understands how the brain works and the importance to healing.Neuroplasticity shows that neurons can form new connections, receptors, and strengthen pathways through practice. Our brains can change and grow in self-compassion and resonance regardless of age, genetics, or past trauma. Early childhood experiences can trigger survival mode before we fully understand them, causing trauma to lock in and intensify over time. Recalling these memories reactivates that emotional pain.Invisible contracts have a invisible voice: “If I put others first, I'll be loved.” “If I never ask for what I need, I won't be rejected.” “If I stay small, I won't be criticized.”AND…….they drain your energy, cloud your intuition, and keep you trapped in cycles that no longer serve you.This is where Empathica, the Unconscious Emotional Circuit Breaker in The Light Between Oracle app, becomes your trusted ally.Through dialogue within the Light Between Journey, Empathica gently illuminates these hidden patterns using principles of relational neuroscience. She helps you identify where you've given your power away and guides you in reclaiming it.When you work with Empathica:* You'll recognize emotional triggers before they derail you* You'll transform reactions into conscious responses* You'll develop genuine self-compassion that dissolves old patternsDuring this season of giving, remember that the greatest gift you can offer yourself is freedom from these outdated contracts. When you release what no longer serves you, you create space for authentic connection - with yourself and others.Take a moment today to ask: What invisible agreement might be limiting me right now? Then open the app and let Empathica guide you toward emotional liberation.Tomorrow, we'll explore Elementa, who helps you connect with the wisdom of the seven elements to enhance your intuition and decision-making.To your emotional freedom, Kassandra P.S. True power isn't about controlling circumstances - it's about liberating yourself from the unconscious patterns that have been controlling you.Holiday patterns—saying yes when you mean no, feeling responsible for everyone's happiness—aren't random. They're unconscious contracts. Meet Empathica in The Light Between Oracle, your guide to emotional liberation. She helps you rewrite the agreements keeping you stuck. Choose to be in the drivers seat to self empowerment and next-era growth.

It's our annual holiday episode, this time with Dougy Center Executive Director and TEDx speaker Brennan Wood. Brennan first encountered Dougy Center after her mom, Doris, died of breast cancer three days after Brennan's 12th birthday. She has since navigated almost four decades of holiday seasons with grief along for the ride. She shares about the early years that were awful; the young-adult years she spent volunteering away from family; and how, as an adult, she's learned to hold both grief and joy while creating new traditions for her own family. Whether this is your first or 41st holiday season with grief, this conversation offers validation, tangible suggestions, and new ways to think about this time of year.   We discuss:  How attending a peer grief support group as a teen introduced Brennan to the idea that grief is to feel, not fix. Accepting that not everything has to be bright and shiny, especially during the holidays.   Recalling the first Christmas after her mom died and why it felt awful.  New traditions she's created as an adult with her own family.  Grounding rituals Brennan uses, especially during the holidays.   Why it's okay to be mad at holiday traditions you used to love.  Need additional tips and suggestions for this time of year? Check out our past episodes and our Holiday Grief Tip Sheet & Worksheet  It's Okay That It's Not the Same: Grief at the Holidays  It Can Be So Awkward: Holidays & Grief  The Not- Most Wonderful Time of the Year: Holidays & Grief  Grief And The Holidays   Under Pressure – Grief & December Holidays  Watch Brennan's TEDxPortland Talk - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZN4zP5baJrg Read her A Kid's Book About Grief - https://dougybookstore.org/products/a-kids-book-about-grief Learn more about Brennan - https://www.dougy.org/about/team-dougy/executive-director

The early internet was built on big hopes—access, openness, connection, and the belief that technology could make the world fairer. In this episode of The Radical Candor Podcast, Kim & Jason are in conversation with Steven Levy. His recent article, “I thought I knew Silicon Valley. I was wrong.”, becomes the lens through which they revisit tech's early promise and its reality today. They take an honest look at the optimism that shaped Silicon Valley's early culture and how those ideals unraveled. Kim & Steven candidly share their unique perspective of  how it feels to recognize the gap between what they believed and what actually happened as two people who had a front row seat.  If you're looking for a thoughtful, grounded, and honest conversation about how tech's story was written—and rewritten—in real time, and what today's leaders can learn from examining both intention and impact, this episode offers clarity and perspective you can apply right now. Get all of the show notes at ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠RadicalCandor.com/podcast⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠. Episode Links:⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠ ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠"I Thought I Knew Silicon Valley, I was Wrong" ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠About Steven Levy⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠ ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠Steven Levy's Newsletter⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠ ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠Steven Levy's Books⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠ ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠"Virtual Love" by Kim Scott ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠"Enshittification" by Cory Doctorow⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠ ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠"The Age of Extraction" by Tim Wu⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠ Connect: ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠Website⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠ ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠Instagram⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠ ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠TikTok⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠ ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠LinkedIn⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠ ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠YouTube⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠ ⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠Bluesky⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠ Chapters: (00:00) Introduction Kim, Jason, and Steven set the stage for a reflective look at Silicon Valley's promise and reality. (01:39) “I Thought I Knew Silicon Valley. I Was Wrong.” Steven shares what led him to write the article and how his perspective shifted. (03:38) From Idealism to Influence: When Tech's Culture Shifted Exploring the moment Silicon Valley's playful, rebellious spirit hardened into something more powerful—and less accountable. (06:30) Recalling the Internet We Hoped For Revisiting the early optimism that shaped the web and the disillusionment that followed. (12:27) The Claims of AI Examining the bold promises tech leaders make about AI—and why skepticism matters. (15:01) The Long Tail Early optimism about the internet's potential to democratize opportunity. (16:56) Enshittification & The Age of Extraction Cory Doctorow's framework, antitrust debates, and how market consolidation reshaped the online ecosystem. (20:05) Do a CEO's Values Matter? A look at how leaders like Mark Zuckerberg and Jeff Bezos have evolved—and what that means for their companies. (24:37) What to Do When You Don't Align With Your Company Reflecting on how to stay true to your values when the culture around you shifts. (29:36) Looking Back with Clearer Eyes Kim reckons with past choices, blind spots, and what accountability looks like now. (32:29) What Corrupted Silicon Valley When too much money and power are concentrated in too few hands. (33:56) Conclusion Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

Eoin Sheahan, Mick McCarthy and Cameron Hill are here to bring you Tuesday's Newsround, where they'll be discussing tonight's Champions League fixtures, the latest Women's Six Nations news, Evan Ferguson returning to Brighton and all the biggest sports stories of the day.

“Our Teacher” is a collection of essays written by students of Falun Dafa (also known as Falun Gong). This series is comprised of their personal experiences with the practice and their interactions with Dafa's founder, Mr. Li Hongzhi, when the practice was first taught to the public. The writings were originally published on the Minghui website. Original Articles:1. Glorious Recollections of Attending Teacher’s Lecture in Jinzhou City, Liaoning Province2. Precious Memories: Recalling My Experiences in Attending Master’s Fa Lecture Series Five Times3. Recalling the Days When Master Gave Lectures in Jinan City4. Recalling a Remarkable Story on the 18th Anniversary of Master Li Teaching the Fa in Guan County, Shandong Province To provide feedback on this podcast, please email us at feedback@minghuiradio.org

Rebecca Ruth Gould, Distinguished Professor of Comparative Poetics and Global Politics, School of Oriental and African Studies (SOAS) and author of Erasing Palestine: Free Speech and Palestinian Freedom (Verso, 2020), discusses the political reframing of “antisemitism” by the International Holocaust Remembrance Alliance (IHRA) which tailored a new definition designed specifically to silence criticism of both Zionism and the state of Israel. Recalling how she was caught within the radar of the IHRA's definition of antisemitism in 2017 while an academic at the University of Bristol for a short article she had written years earlier, Gould analyses how the IHRA definition has very clear implications far beyond Israel and Palestine, even to the extent that it exists as a quasi-law that is treated as law while never having gone through any kind of democratic parliamentary vetting process. Moreover, Gould observes how the IHRA definition of antisemitism basically set out to define what we can and cannot say about Israel while also serving to foreshadow how free speech on Palestine would be persecuted for the following decade. Considering the language of mass starvation and famine within the media, Gould confirms how the famine of the Holodomor, in a 1933 New York Times piece, was narrated in an eerily similar way to how the famine in Gaza is currently represented. Articulating how “Never again” has never really been true, given the numerous genocides since the Holocaust, Gould describes how older generations have internalised the state-based nationalist “Holocaust memories” which have blinded them from seeing, much less understanding, that Israel is currently carrying out a genocide of Palestinians. Get full access to Savage Minds at savageminds.substack.com/subscribe

Episode 86 Recalling Brigid by Orna Ross Orna Ross reads ‘Recalling Brigid' and discusses the poem with Mark McGuinness. https://media.blubrry.com/amouthfulofair/media.blubrry.com/amouthfulofair/content.blubrry.com/amouthfulofair/86_Recalling_Brigid_by_Orna_Ross.mp3 This poem is from: Poet Town: The Poetry of Hastings & Thereabouts edited by Richard Newham Sullivan Available from: Poet Town is available from: The publisher: Moth Light Press Amazon: UK | US Recalling Brigid by Orna Ross Queen of queens, they called herin the old books, the Irish Mary.Never washed her hands, nor her headin sight of a man, never lookedinto a man's face. She was goodwith the poor, multiplied food,gave ale to lepers. Among birds,call her dove; among trees, a vine.A sun among stars. Such was the sort of womanpreferred as the takeover was made:consecrated cask, throne to His glory,intercessor. Brigid said nothing to any of this,the reverence, or the upbraidings.Her realm is the lacuna,silence her sceptre,her own way of life its own witness. Out of desire, the lure of lustor the dust of great deeds,she was distorted:to consort, mother-virgin,to victim or whore. I am not as womanlya woman as she.So I say: Let us see.Let us say how she is the one. It is she who conceivesand she who does bear.She who knitted us in the womband who will cradle our tomb-fraying. Daily she offers her arms,clothes us in compassion,smiles as we wrigglefor baubles. Yes, it is she who lifts you aloftto whisper through your ears,to kiss your eyes,to touch her coolingcheek to your cheek. Interview transcript Mark: Orna, where did this poem come from? Orna: Hi Mark. Yeah, so it's one of a collection that I'm working on, around Irish women from history and myth. And these are women that I grew up with, as a young person, receiving a sort of a typical Irish education, if you like. Orna: And so some of them are saints, some of them are mythological people. Well, saints are also mythological people! Some of them are historical figures who've been mythologized. And I just wanted to go back in and do my own exploration of each of these women because everybody else had. So I've been gathering these poems over a long time, but it actually started with this one. It started with Brigid. And Brigid is a figure from ancient Irish mythology. And she was Christianized into a Roman Catholic saint. She is the patron saint of Ireland. One of. You've probably heard of the other one. Patrick. You probably haven't heard of this one: Brigid. And, so many things have been projected on her. And it's interesting to read what, what survives of what is written about her because what's written earlier on in time is quite different to what's written later on. And she continues to be an inspiration. Her feast day is the first day of spring in Ireland, which in Ireland is the first day of February. It's much earlier than it is in England. And she's just an interesting, personification of the female virtues as they've been perceived over time. Mark: So you said she was written about differently in earlier times to more recent times, which I think is pertinent to how you're exploring that in the poem. So maybe you could just give us a brief summary of that. Orna: Yes. So I, the poem refers to ‘the takeover'. And by that, I kind of mean the Christian, but hand in hand with Christian goes the patriarchal, takeover of old images of women in general. And Brigid is part of that. So earlier, renditions about her tend to focus on her as a healer, as a wise woman, as a very compassionate person, ‘ale to lepers' is one of the, images in the poem. Whereas later versions tend to emphasize her holiness and her saintliness and, her goodness and I suppose what we would typically think is a good, religious, icon. So it's interesting just to read how that changes and differs as we go. And she also then had her detractors, which is where we get to the ideas, about women generally that are in the poem – the consort, mother, victim, whore, those kinds of ideas. You see them brushing against Brigid over time, but she comes through intact actually, as a woman in her own right. And these don't tend to stick to her as they have stuck to others. Mark: And sometimes when poets use mythological figures like this, there's a kind of a critique of, ‘Well, that's a little bit old fashioned, it's poetry with a capital P'. But reading this and listening to you, it kind of really underlines to me that mythology and religion are really quite present in Ireland. Orna: Oh, gosh, yes! The past is very present in Ireland still, in lots of ways. And. It's interesting. I suppose it's something to do with being a small island on the very edge of, in inverted commas, civilization. Although the Irish like to think they civilized Europe during the dark ages by sending our saints and our scholarship, our images of people like Brigid, the truth is that old ways lingered on a long time, and particularly the part of Ireland where I grew up. So, I grew up in County Wexford down in the small bottom right-hand corner, the very southeast tip of Ireland. Around it, there is a river and a small hill that kind of cuts that area off. And around County Wexford in general, there are larger hills and a big river that cuts Wexford off. So they tended to travel by sea more than road, people from that part of the world. And it was the first part of Ireland to be conquered the Norman conquest and, Old English lingered there right up until, well, there are still words that are used in Wexford that aren't used elsewhere. Carols and songs as well. So other parts of Ireland and, obviously England, had moved on, it but kind of got stuck there. So I'm just kind of pointing up the fact that yes, things stayed, passed on in an oral kind of culture and an oral tradition. And hedge schools and such like, long after such things had faded away in other parts of Europe. Mark: And you say Old English rather than Irish was lingering? Orna: That's right. And, because they had, well, the Normans came to England first Hastings, actually where I live now. One of the reasons I'm here, I think is that I felt a lot of similarities between here and Wexford and I think the Norman invasion in both places, it was part of that. So yeah, a hundred years after the Normans landed in Hastings, they were brought over to Wexford by an Irish chieftain to help him win one of his battles with another Irish chieftain. So English came with the Normans to Ireland. Mark: Right. And this is another amazing thing about Ireland, is the kind of the different layers, like archaeological layers of language. You've got Irish, you've got Old English, you've got Norman French, you've got Latin from the church, you've got Norse from the Vikings and so on. It's incredibly rich. Orna: Yes. More diverse, I think. And again, because of its cut off nature, these things lasted longer, I think, because that's also true of England, but the overlay is stronger and so they don't make their way through. Mark: Right, right. And the ghosts can peep through. So, okay, that's the historical cultural context. What does Brigid mean to you and why did you choose her as the first figure in this sequence? Orna: She chose me, I think. I very much feel this poem, you know, some poems are made and some arrive and this one arrived. I wanted to do something to celebrate her. That was all I knew because it was the first day of spring, which I always loved, that first day of February. You know, when winter is really beginning to bite and you feel, I mean, there is no sign of spring except some crocuses maybe peeking up and, uh, a few spring flowers making a little promise. But usually the weather is awful, but it's the first day of spring and it's, been a really important day for me from that point of view. And then the fact that it does, you know, the fact that Patrick is such a great big deal everywhere and Brigid isn't known at all. So that's kind of where I started and I just knew I'd like to write a poem. And then it was one of those ones that I, if I had set out to write a poem about Brigid, I don't think this is what I would have written. It just arrived. And I found that I was thinking about lots of things and as the first poem of this sequence, I wanted to say some of the things about womanhood in the poem, and I, well, I realised I did, because that's what emerged. So for me, it's very much about that kind of quiet aspect of, so, you know, we've got feminism, which talks very much about women's rights to do whatever it is they want to do in the outer world. But for me, she, in this poem, represents the inner, the quiet virtues, if you like, always there for us. We're not always there for them, but they're always there and active in our lives all the time, and I wanted to celebrate that in the poem. So that's what, you know, I got, the rough draft just came pouring out, and that's what I found myself wanting to bring out. Mark: And the title, ‘Recalling Brigid', you know, I was thinking about that word ‘recalling', because it could mean ‘remembering', but it could also mean ‘calling' or ‘summoning'. Orna: Yes, deliberately chosen for both of those meanings, yes, very well spotted there, poetry reader. Mark: Well, you know, this is a very ancient function of poetry, isn't it? And it's where it kind of shades into charm or spells, to summon, or invoke a spirit or some kind of otherworldly creature or being. Orna: Absolutely. I think you've got the heart of what the poem is trying to do there. It is about calling forth, something, as I say, that's there, that we're all, you know, is there for all of us in our lives, but that we're not always aware of it. And our culture actively stifles it, and makes it seem like it's less important than it is. And so, yes, very much exactly all the words, the beautiful words you've just used there. I was hoping this poem would tap into that. Mark: Very much. And, you know, the beginning, ‘Queen of Queens, they called her'. So presumably this is in the old pre-Christian days, ‘they called her'. So there's that word ‘calling' again, and you give us the kind of the gloss, ‘in the old books, the Irish Mary'. And then you introduce the takeover: ‘such was the sort of woman / preferred as the takeover was made:' And then you get the other version. And then you've got: ‘Brigid said nothing to any of this,' which I think is really wonderful that she keeps – so you've gone from ‘they' in the past, ‘what they called her'. And then Brigid keeping her own counsel about this. She said nothing to any of this, ‘the reverence, or the upbraidings'. And then we get you where you say, ‘I am not as womanly / a woman as she. / So I say: let us see. / Let us say how she is the one. // It is she who conceives, and she who does bear.' Lovely, beautiful repetitions and shifts in there. So you really, you step forward into the poem at that point. Orna: I really wanted to, to place myself in relation to, to her and to all the women in this collection. Which isn't out yet, by the way, it's not finished. So I've got another three to go. No, I really wanted to place myself in relation to the women in the poems. That was an important part of the project for me. And I do that, you know, lots of different ways. But this poem, the first one is very much about, I suppose, calling out, you know, the ‘recalling' that you were talking about there a few moments ago, calling out the qualities. That we tend to overlook and that are attributed to Brigid as a womanly woman. And so, yeah, that's, that's what I was saying. I'm more of a feminist woman who is regarded by some as less womanly. so there is a, that's an interesting debate for me. That's a very interesting, particularly now at this time, I think, it's very interesting to talk about, you know, what is a feminist and what is feminism. And I personally believe in feminisms, lots of different, you know, it's multiple sort of thing. But these poems are born of a, you know, a feminist poet's sensibility without a doubt. So in this first one, I just wanted to call out, you know, the womanly virtues, if you like. Mark: Yeah. So I get a sense of you kind of starting as a tuning fork for different ideas and voices, calling her different things. And then you shift into, ‘Let us see. / Let us say…' I love the description earlier on where you said it's a celebration because by the end of the poem, it really is. It's all her attributes, isn't it? ‘It is she who conceives / and she who does bear.' And so on. Again, how easy was it for you to let go and, and, and step into that? Because it's kind of a thing that it's a little bit, it's not what we associate with modern poetry, is it? Orna: No, not at all. Not at all. But I had to ages ago, give up on modern poetry. If I wanted to write poetry, I had to drop so much, so much that I learned, you know, English Lit. was my original degree. And, you know, I, I was in love with poetry from a very young age. So, I learned everything I could about everything. And then I had to drop it all because I didn't write, I didn't write any poems between the end of my teens and my early forties when I lost a very dear friend. And then when I went on, shortly afterwards to, develop breast cancer. So those two things together unlocked the poetry gates and poems came again. And the kind of poems that came, very often were not, poems that they're not fashionable in that sense. You know, they're not what poetry tends to be. And from that point, in our time, if you like, some are, some, some do come that way, but an awful lot don't. And, for that reason, I'm just so entirely delighted to be able to self-publish because they speak to readers and say they communicate. And to me, that's what matters. And I don't have to worry about being accepted by a poetry establishment at all. I don't spend any time whatsoever thinking about that. I work at the craft, but I, it's for myself and for the poem and for the reader, but not to please anybody that, you know, would be a gatekeeper of any kind. Mark: Well, some listeners will know this – you are very much known as a champion of opportunity and diversity in publishing for writers and self-publishing, independent publishing, however you call it. But I think what I'd like to focus on here is the fact that, you know, by writing a poem like this, you highlight the conventions that we have in modern poetry. And it's easy to see the conventions of the past, but maybe not so much the ones in the present. And I love the fact that you've just sidestepped that or ignored that and written the poem that came to you. Orna: Yes. Yes, very much did and do. And like I said, I don't spend, I did at one time spend time thinking about this, but I spend absolutely no time now thinking about this at all. Mark: That's so refreshing to hear! [Laughter] Orna: No, it's, it's great. It's certainly a liberation. I think very much about the poem and what the poem needs and wants from me. And I make mistakes. I, you know, I don't do well on some poems. I go back, rewrite, sometimes years later, sometimes after they're published. so yeah. It's not that I don't think about form or structure or, you know, all of the things that poets think about but I only think about the master, you know, is the poem itself or the reader possibly or the communication between the bridge between me and the reader, something like that. But yeah, it's liberating for sure. Mark: And how did that play out in this poem? I mean, how close is this to the original draft that came to you? Orna: It's one of the poems that's closest to the original. It kind of arrived and I didn't want to play with it too much at all. So yeah, it, I just left it be. I let it be what I wanted to be because for me there are echoes in this poem as well of Old Irish poetry and ways of writing. you know, that if you, I don't know if you've ever had the pleasure of reading Old Irish poetry in translation? Mark: Yes. Orna: So, you know, that sense of I'm reading something from a completely different mind. It's, it isn't just that the, you know, the structures are different or whatever. It's like the whole mind and sensibility is something else. And that was one of the things I wanted to slightly have to retain in this poem. You know, I felt that it, it carries some of that forward and I wanted to, to leave it there as an echo. Mark: Yeah. Quite a lot of those Old Irish poems have a kind of a litany, a list of attributes of the poet or their beloved or the divine being that they're evoking. And that comes across very strongly here. Orna: Yeah, definitely. That's sort of a list of, which to the modern ear can sound obvious and, you know, just not poetry really. So yeah, I think that's one of the qualities that it carries. Mark: And I love the kind of the incantatory repetitive thing. Like I was saying about the, ‘So I say: let us see. / Let us say', and then ‘It is she… It is she… she who', you know, it just carries you along. It's got a hypnotic quality to it. Orna: Yes. And the she part, you know, the emphasizing the feminine, I suppose, touch of the divine feminine, but very much the physical feminine, and activities as well. So, you know, women held the role of birth and death very much in Irish culture again, up to really quite recently. I remember that, in my own youth and okay, I am getting on a bit, but, it's still, you know, it was quite late in time where, women did the laying out for burial. They did the keening of the, the wake, all of that. I remember very well. so at the beginning and end of life at the thresholds, if you like, that was a woman's job. And, that was lost, I think in the takeover. But I still think all the emotional labour around those thresholds are still very much held by women, you know, silently and quietly. And yeah, Brigid doesn't shout about it, but in this poem, I want to call it. Mark: Yeah. Recall it. Okay. And then let's go back to Hastings, which we touched on earlier, because this, okay. It's, it's going to be in your collection. It's been published in a wonderful anthology poetry from Hastings called Poet Town. Tell us a bit about that book and how you came to be involved. Orna: Yeah. So I heard about it and, Richard [Newham Sullivan] wonderful, poet and, publisher and general literary person. He now lives in New York, but he grew up in Hastings and lived here for many years. And it was a kind of a homesickness project he told me later, for him just. But he carried the idea in his mind for a very long time. He wanted to, he knew that there was an incredible, poetic history in Hastings, which people were not aware of. So Hastings is very well known. Hastings and St. Leonard's, where I live, both are very well known as arty kind of towns. Visual arts are very, very visible here, and all sorts of marvellous things going on, and music as well, there's brilliant Fat Tuesday music festival every year, but there's also, there's classical music, music in the pubs, music coming out your ears, literally. But very little about the literary life that goes on here, and lots of writers living here. And so Richard wanted to just bring forward the poetry side of that. And so he decided it's a passion project for him. He decided to, he worked with the publisher, a small publisher here, in Hastings for it. It's Moth Light Press. And he set out to gather as many living poets into one collection as he could. And this is where I was interested because as, I'm a historical novelist as well, so history is big for me, and I was really interested in the history, you know, the history and the poets who had lived here. There were quite a few. It's not every day you find yourself in an anthology with Lord Byron and Keats, and, two Rossetti's! So that was a joy, discovering all the poets who, had a connection to Hastings back to, I think he went back to the early 1800s with it. So, yeah, it's been a huge success, and, people are loving the book, and it has really brought poetry, brought pride, I think, to the poetry community in the town, which is lovely. Mark: Yeah, I'm really enjoying it, and I love the fact that it's got the old and the new. Because, of course, that's what I do here on A Mouthful of Air. I always think the ghosts of poetry past are always present in the work of the living. I hadn't realized what a deep and rich poetic history Hastings had. So, yeah, Poet Town, a great anthology. Do check that out while you're waiting for Orna's sequence to come to light. And Orna, thank you so much for sharing such a remarkable poem and distinctive take on the poet's craft. And I think this would be a good point to listen to the poem again, and appreciate your praise and celebration once more. Orna: Thanks so much, Mark, for having me. I really enjoyed it. Thank you. Recalling Brigid by Orna Ross Queen of queens, they called herin the old books, the Irish Mary.Never washed her hands, nor her headin sight of a man, never lookedinto a man's face. She was goodwith the poor, multiplied food,gave ale to lepers. Among birds,call her dove; among trees, a vine.A sun among stars. Such was the sort of womanpreferred as the takeover was made:consecrated cask, throne to His glory,intercessor. Brigid said nothing to any of this,the reverence, or the upbraidings.Her realm is the lacuna,silence her sceptre,her own way of life its own witness. Out of desire, the lure of lustor the dust of great deeds,she was distorted:to consort, mother-virgin,to victim or whore. I am not as womanlya woman as she.So I say: Let us see.Let us say how she is the one. It is she who conceivesand she who does bear.She who knitted us in the womband who will cradle our tomb-fraying. Daily she offers her arms,clothes us in compassion,smiles as we wrigglefor baubles. Yes, it is she who lifts you aloftto whisper through your ears,to kiss your eyes,to touch her coolingcheek to your cheek. Poet Town: The Poetry of Hastings & Thereabouts ‘Recalling Brigid' is from Poet Town: The Poetry of Hasting & Thereabouts, published by Moth Light Press. Available from: Poet Town is available from: The publisher: Moth Light Press Amazon: UK | US Orna Ross Orna Ross is an award-winning poet and novelist. Her poetry, rooted in Irish heritage and mindfulness practice, explores love, loss, creativity, and spiritual renewal through a female lens. As founder-director of the Alliance of Independent Authors (ALLi), she champions creative freedom for poets and writers. Her forthcoming collection, And Then Came the Beginning—Poems of Iconic Irish Women, Ancient and Modern—is available for pre-order at OrnaRoss.com/TheBeginning. A Mouthful of Air – the podcast This is a transcript of an episode of A Mouthful of Air – a poetry podcast hosted by Mark McGuinness. New episodes are released every other Tuesday. You can hear every episode of the podcast via Apple, Spotify, Google Podcasts or your favourite app. You can have a full transcript of every new episode sent to you via email. The music and soundscapes for the show are created by Javier Weyler. Sound production is by Breaking Waves and visual identity by Irene Hoffman. A Mouthful of Air is produced by The 21st Century Creative, with support from Arts Council England via a National Lottery Project Grant. Listen to the show You can listen and subscribe to A Mouthful of Air on all the main podcast platforms Related Episodes Recalling Brigid by Orna Ross Orna Ross reads and discusses ‘Recalling Brigid’ from Poet Town. From The Rime of the Ancient Mariner by Samuel Taylor Coleridge Episode 85 From The Rime of the Ancient Mariner by Samuel Taylor Coleridge Mark McGuinness reads and discusses a passage from ‘The Rime of the Ancient Mariner' by Samuel Taylor Coleridge.Poet Samuel Taylor ColeridgeReading and commentary by Mark McGuinnessFrom... Alchemy by Gregory Leadbetter Episode 84 Alchemy by Gregory Leadbetter Gregory Leadbetter reads ‘Alchemy' and discusses the poem with Mark McGuinness.This poem is from: The Infernal Garden by Gregory LeadbetterAvailable from: The Infernal Garden is available from: The publisher: Nine Arches...

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