Memoir Bytes: Forgiveness? Love? The Power of Money – Backstory from Conflicted Hearts

Memoir Bytes

Vision perception - Memoirs


Sometimes I look back in reflection at some of the poignant moments in life, at some of the characters in my family. I like to analyze in retrospect, how I felt about a certain situation while emotions were running high, and interpret them later in time by dissecting some of those events to see how I handled the situation while experiencing the emotional moment and if my perceptions were accurate.


This particular incident recently resurfaced in my memory. I try to look for the compassion I may have missed back then while originally feeling confusion and resentment. As a memoir writer, I tend to do this with many of life’s difficult situations I’ve encountered to assess and better understand not just my perspective but what the other parties concerned may have been feeling. So today I’m going to bring up a sad memory about my father’s death. It seemed only fitting to write about this today when January 9th was the day I buried my father in 1991.

The situation was tragic enough that my father had died suddenly and out of country, but with a dysfunctional family background to add to the mix, there were many more mixed emotions presented at that time.

My paternal grandmother had been dead for a few years prior to my father’s death. And my dad was the only child left of my grandfather’s – a man who’d been dominated by his overbearing, bossy wife throughout his marriage. My dad had one older brother who had been disowned, completely banished by his parents, and consequently, from all of our lives when the edict had come down from my grandmother twenty-five years prior. “We shall speak no more of his name” were her words. And so it was written. And so it was done.

Dad and my estranged uncle Don ran the family business with their father up until that fateful day when something huge went down. I was only about 6 or 7 years old at the time and my investigative listening skills were already fine-tuned from growing up in a volatile and emotional roller coaster household, where listening in the shadows always gave me a leg up on what I could expect come tomorrow. But despite my efforts, I wasn’t permitted to ask questions without being reprimanded for doing so, consequently, much about what I learned about this occurrence was from the chatter that went on after the event at my grandparents’ house and afterward in my own home while I listened to my mother tell her sisters and friends.

To this day, I still don’t know the whole reasoning behind the incident that had my uncle banished for life, but what I got from it was, my quick-tempered uncle grew very angry at his father one day at work and pegged his dad up against the outside brick wall and was stopped short by my father who heard the ruckus and he restrained my uncle from throwing a brick at my grandfather’s head, as he shouted in anger with what seemed the end of his tolerance for his father’s orders. After the feud was broken up by my dad, my uncle was thrown out from the family business – and the family.

When my stern grandmother was informed about what had transpired, she made an instant declaration ( I heard it with my own ears), her son Don was now dead to my grandparents. They even sat the traditional ‘Shiva’ period as we do in our religion to mourn the dead.

We never saw my uncle or our cousins again for almost a quarter of a century.

On January 9th, 1991, 4 children and their grandfather sat in the mourner’s room at the funeral home before it was time for the funeral to begin in the chapel. The door opened and a strange man walked in. He looked as though he was in his early 60s, dressed in a dark suit and tie, slighted hunched over with age, he kept his eyes focused toward the floor as he entered while adjusting his yarmulke (skullcap). I leaned over to my one brother and asked him who this man was that just invaded our mourner’s space. My brother replied, “It’s Uncle Don.”

My heart skipped a beat. In my dire moments of grief, I didn’t know what to make of the sudden appearance of my long lost uncle. Within the same one whirlwind moment of emotions, I felt curious, angry, and heartbroken. I never said a word to him and moments later we proceeded into the chapel for the ceremony then out to the cemetery. We buried our father on that freezing cold day in January and my Uncle Don stood along right beside us.

After burying my father, we proceeded to my younger brother’s house to commence the Shiva where we’d sit in mourning for one week from morning til sundown and receive guests and visitors who would come by to keep us company and pay their condolences.

We’d just arrived from the cemetery, and took our respective seats on the cushionless couches, as tradition warranted for the immediate mourners. Immediate family of the lost loved one are the mourners – parents, children and siblings. And then into my brother’s home walked Uncle Don. That’s when emotions were escalated. My siblings and I were dumbfounded, wondering why he had suddenly showed up after a quarter of a century to his brother’s funeral and for mourning. This was a brother who never even went to his own mother’s funeral a few years earlier.

Suspicions, doubts, and curiosity ran through each one of us and before any of us even voiced our opinion to the others, my grandfather stood up, embraced his long lost son and announced aloud, “I lost one son, but I gained another.”

Who does that?

Resentment built up within me that the complete stranger to us could walk into my brother’s home the day we buried our father and our grandfather greeted him like he was the consolation gift God had given him – the man who threatened to kill him a quarter century past, when his only other son who had been nothing but obedient at his beck and call for all his life had saved his father’s life.

Many thoughts rolled through my head that day – why did he show up decades later? Was there remorse? Was his sudden arrival back into my grandfather’s life for monetary gain?

I felt heart-broken when I lost my father, but I also managed to feel sorry for my grandfather too, for losing his only son who had stood by him all his life. I was never close with my grandfather because of the years growing up around him, feeling no love or compassion from him or from my grandmother – the price I paid for my mother’s deceit when she purposefully got pregnant with me to get my father to marry her. I was a constant reminder to them of my parent’s union.

Because I harbored a life-long resentment toward my grandfather, it wasn’t difficult for me to speak to him with snark and sarcasm. I never had a problem letting someone know what I thought once I moved away from home and found my voice. The four of us confronted him when we were alone together, questioning how he could welcome our uncle with open arms as though the past had never happened. We didn’t hesitate to let him know we suspected the only reason our uncle had shown up was because he knew he was the only child left and there was plenty of money to be gained if he got himself back in my grandfather’s good graces and ultimately back into the will. My grandfather didn’t seem to care. In his own moments of grief I think he felt alone with the loss of his beloved wife and no children left, and so he clung to whatever rope was thrown to him despite motives. Sad.

Us four kids had spent much of our growing up years at my grandparents’ home, despite our reluctance or desire to do so. We were to become the inheritors, but as suspected, my uncle did manage to get involved with the finances. Sure there was some left in the end of it all, but not much. And whatever was left was not divided evenly between us four. I got the biggest shaft of all of us, and that was quite expected. But I never used that against my own siblings because, as I learned well, money had the great potential to divide a family.

@DGKaye 2018


Sunday Book Review – New Reviews for D.G. Kaye’s Books

Book reviews by D.G. Kaye


I’m a little behind in finishing reading a few books, so for today’s Sunday Book Review I thought I’d share a couple of new reviews that have come in for my own books.

Twenty Years: After "I Do" by D.G. Kaye

Available on Amazon

Twenty Years: After “I Do”

Guy Wheatley

January 21, 2018

Format: Kindle Edition|Verified Purchase


Conflicted Hearts

on January 12, 2018
D.G. Kaye’s memoir is about her life as a little girl growing up without any love from her mother and the emotional pain that is still in the author’s heart and soul. The author, as a little girl, was practically a servant, doing the parenting of the other children. I was reminded as I read her story of another story, Cinderella, because that is exactly what this little girl endured. The author’s mother was a narcissus, self-serving, unstable, and dysfunctional individual with a gambling habit. It is also a story about a blended family with different religious beliefs and strongly held convictions from an older immigrant generation that caused an added level of distress, worry and fearfulness for her and her siblings.

As the author’s life story unfolds, one can see that not having a mother’s love can create a need to be loved at any cost. And, this is what happened to the author. She found herself in relationships that were unhealthy. Over the course of many years, the author realized she needed to value herself and not be a pawn in someone else’s life to be belittled, demeaned, and unloved. The author, of this heartfelt memoir, exposes what it is like to grow up in a very dysfunctional home life. D.G. Kaye writes with authenticity, insight, and emotional pain, that touched me deeply.

#WATWB – Inspirational Post – One Word – Andrew Joyce

#WATWB Inspirational Post

We are the World Blogfest



Every last Friday of the month #WATWB – We are the World Blogfest offers writers to contribute an inspirational post to focus on some of the good in the world. As my month has been chaotic with my husband’s health issues, I’m late in putting a post together so I’ve decided to share an inspirational story written by author Andrew Joyce, It only takes one word to change your life around. Read this heartwarming story to find out ‘the word’.


If you’d like to join in the blogfest, you can add your posts to the Linky addon after the post.


One Word

I’ve been angry all my life. Everyone was always out to take from me. I’ve never had any friends. Even when I was in high school, the other kids would go out to lunch together while I sat by myself, just off the school grounds, and felt the loneliness that had become my life.

On Saturdays nights, the other kids would go out on dates or pile into a car for a night of adventure. I would hitchhike to the main drag, plant myself on a bus bench, and watch the world go by, wishing I was a part of it.

Things didn’t get much better after I became an adult. I existed in the world, but was not a part of it. I had no use for anybody. My loneliness had long ago morphed into hatred. Hatred for the whole damn human race.

Then one day, I saw a dirty beggar down on 8th Street, by the 7-Eleven. I took great joy in his miserableness. At least someone was worse off than me. There was no way that he could have any friends. He was both lonely and homeless. I, on the other hand, had a roof over my head.

I tarried to revel in the spectacle. I was enjoying myself.

He held out a plastic cup, imploring me to contribute. Was he joking? Could he not tell from my sneer what I thought of him?

I was turning to leave, when a well-dressed man came up to the beggar and grabbed his filthy hand. He shook it vigorously while saying, “How ya doing, Tim?”

“Not too bad, Jim. Not too bad,” answered the tramp.

“You know, me and the wife still have that room for you. It would do you good to get off the streets and have a decent meal every day. If you’d ever accept one of my invitations to dinner, you’d see what a good cook Ruth is.”

“Thanks. But I’m doing just fine … for now. Let me take a rain check on that. Okay?”

“Sure, Tim. Sure.”

Before he left, the man took out his wallet, extracted a five-dollar bill, and put it into the cracked plastic cup held by the beggar.

I just shook my head in disbelief, turned, and walked into the 7-Eleven to get my cigarettes and a few scratch-offs.

When I came out, the beggar was in an animated conversation with a well-dressed, good-looking woman. I figured that he was harassing her and decided right then and there to go to her aid, if for no other reason than to harass the tramp.

“Excuse me, ma’am. But is this man bothering you?”

She looked at me as though I had two heads. Then she started to laugh.

“My God, no! It’s the other way around.” She turned to the beggar and said, “Tim, would you like this gentleman to intercede on your behalf?”

The beggar smiled and answered, “It’s alright. He’s a friend of mine. And he knows how I get around beautiful women. He was just trying to protect you from my lustful ways.”

It took a moment, but finally the woman broke into a big grin and said, “Tim McCarthy, if you aren’t the living end. Okay, we’ll finish this discussion later. But I’m going to get you into a decent place to live if it’s the last thing I ever do.” She dug into her purse and came out with a twenty and into the cup it went. She then wrapped her arms around that disgusting person and gave him a long, tight hug. She patted my hand before she left, saying, “You make sure to take care of our Timmy.”

I have to admit, as she strutted away, I was thinking what a great-looking ass she had.

I was brought out of my thoughts by, “She really knows how to swing that thing to hold a man’s interest.”

It was the beggar.

Okay. Hold the goddamn train. Apply the brakes. What the hell was going on? I tore my eyes away from the rapidly retreating woman and confronted the beggar.

“Please tell me … what is it with you? Why do those people associate with you?”

The tramp smiled and asked if I minded if we walked as we talked. He had an engagement and did not want to be late. I shrugged. As long as he didn’t get too close to me as we walked, I had nothing else to do. I was glad I was not on the lee as we walked. The wind kept the stench at bay.

I opened the conversation by asking, “Why did you tell that woman I was a friend of yours? I’ve never seen you before.”

He winked at me, took a few dollars out of his cup, and handed them to a homeless man as we passed by. Not a word was spoken by either man.

Finally, he said, “Even though we have never met, I consider you a friend. I mean, here you are, accompanying me to my luncheon appointment.”

“I’m walking with you to get an answer to my question. I’m no friend of yours. So, tell me. Why do these well-off citizens treat you like a long-lost friend?”

We passed another homeless person and, again, he dipped into his cup and shared his bounty.

I had to know. “Why are you giving away the money that you spent hours begging for?”

“It’s only paper with green ink on it. It doesn’t mean that much to me.”

“Then why do you stand on the street and beg for it?” I had him there. Or so I thought.

“I do it to meet people. Like I met you this morning. I think we’re going to be good friends.”

“You do, do you? I can’t stand your smell, I can’t stand being around you. I think I’ve gone as far as I want with you. I don’t care why people like you. It has no bearing on my life. Forget that I even asked why. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a life to live.”

“What kind of life?”

That stopped me in my tracks. I turned back and took stock of the slight, skinny, disheveled man who stood before me. With contempt in every syllable, I said, “A hell of a better life than you’re living or are ever apt to live.” I was so proud of myself.

He smiled. “Please have lunch with me. It’s my treat.”

I was taken aback. “What restaurant is gonna let you in?” I mocked.

He held up his right index finger and simply said, “I got a place.”

Strange as it seems, I was starting to warm to the guy. I had hit him with my best insults and none of them bothered him. At the moment, I was unemployed and had the entire day to kill before my nighttime TV shows came on, so for the second time since I met the dude, I shrugged my shoulders and decided to go with the flow.

“Okay. As long as you can find a restaurant that will seat you—and you’re paying—I’ll have lunch with you.” I thought it a safe bet. No one was going to let him through the front doors of any establishment, let alone a restaurant. Continue reading . . .


Guest hosts for this week’s #WATWB are   Shilpa GargSimon FalkLynn HallbrooksEric LahtiDamyanti Biswas andGuilie Castillo. Please link to them in your WATWB posts and go say hi!


If you’d like to add an inspirational share for this month’s contribution, you can click HERE to do so.

Source: One Word – Andrew Joyce

I was nominated for The Awesome Blogger Award – #bloggingfun ! – Bonnie A. McKeegan Psychotherapist & Author of my own story

The Awesome Blogger Award

Nominated for the Awesome Blogger Award


I’m always grateful when a fellow blogger thinks of me when they wish to pass on a blog award that they themselves have been nominated for. I know many blogs claim to be ‘award free’ and that is understandable because it seems the longer we maintain being avid bloggers, the shorter our time gets to fit everything else in life in, and we all know the time it takes to put together a post and answer questions as part of accepting the award, as well as nominating other bloggers to share the award with. So although I always say that all my fellow bloggers are most deserving to share my awards, I still feel it appropriate to acknowledge the blogger who has nominated me and introduce them here on my blog.


I was recently nominated for The Awesome Blogger Award by Bonnie McKeegan. Bonnie and I only connected a few short months ago so I was truly humbled that she included me for nomination of this award. And in turn I’d like to reblog a little from her intro where she accepted her award and her reasoning for choosing other bloggers she wished to pass it on to.


Please read Bonnie’s post below and it will follow with my answers to the questions she has put out.

Reblog and share


What an Awesome way to start the new year! I am filled with immense gratitude for the nomination by Heidi at bravingmentalillness!  Be sure to check out her Awesome Blog where you’ll find an epic journey of healing, courage, and inspiration.

Much gratitude to all of you who visit my blog!  Each sign of your presence is hugely encouraging and inspires me to continue my blogging journey.

The Awesome Blogger Award:

“This is an award for the absolutely wonderful writers all across the blogging world. They have beautiful blogs, are kind and lovely, and always find a way to add happiness and laughter to the lives of their readers. That is what truly defines an awesome blogger.”  Created by Miss Maggie @ Dreaming of Guatemala

The rules are:

  1. Thank the person who nominated you
  2. Tag it under #awesomebloggeraward in the Reader
  3. Answer the questions your nominator gave you
  4. Nominate at least 5 awesome bloggers
  5. Give your nominees 10 new questions to answer
  6.  Let your nominees know that they’ve been nominated

I chose the following blogs to Nominate for the Awesome Blogger Award because each represents something I’ve discovered as a new blogger: poetry, poetry with fantastic photography, short stories, art, travel, true stories of healing/recovery written by amazing people living with life’s challenges, and writers helping writers. The Awesome Bloggers I am nominating for the Awesome Blogger Award are (there are many more I love to visit but I am running out of time to finish this post!):

  • Ancient Skies Always fantastic “poetry, fiction, nature, culture, compassion, love!”
  • Andrea Stephenson at Harvesting Hecate poetry, musings, and photography
  • Debby Gies at A prolific writer and skilled memoirist encouraging new writers like me. 
  • Caz at Invisibly Me Living life with chronic illness is not easy. Caz demonstrates how to do it with grace and provides support to others along the way.
  • Christy B at When Women Inspire Christy! What an amazingly inspirational woman and blogger she is! Check out her curated posts for an adventure in exploring many amazing blogs by Women Who Inspire.
  • Anne R Allen Writing about Writing, Mostly One of the first blogs I discovered when I started exploring resources for writers. Amazing support for writers and her book, co-authored with Catherine Ryan Hyde, How to be a Writer in the E-Age – A Self-Help Guide gave me oodles of information and encouragement to “just write!”

I realize that not everyone on my nomination list will participate in this fun but I do want to call attention to their blogs for their beautiful content and their consistent support of my new blogging adventure!  Take a few minutes, if you don’t already know these awesome people, and check out their spaces in the blog-o-sphere!  

Here are Bonnie’s questions and my answers:

  1.  If you could choose an animal to be for a day what would you be?
  2.  What’s your favorite day of the year?
  3.  How much time per day or week do you spend blogging?
  4.  Anything you dislike about blogging?
  5.  Where are you planning to vacation this year?
  6.   How many books do you take on vacation?
  7.   What is your number one advice for new bloggers?
  8.   What was the last museum or major attraction you visited?
  9.   What advice would you give a 13-year-old who wants a Lamborghini?
  10.   What do you see out your kitchen, living room, bathroom, or bedroom window?

1. I’d love to be a fly on the wall, because I’m a truth seeker.

2. My birthday, because it reminds I made it through another year and I’m still on the right side of the green. Good reason to celebrate.

3. A lot! I spend 6 out of 7 evenings a week reading blogs for 3 to 4 hours, which of course doesn’t even include the time I spend writing posts and visiting comments. I love it!

4. How quickly the time passes when spending time on blogs. I wish there were more hours in a day.

5. We were planning on spending 2 glorious months in Puerto Vallarta, Mexico this winter. Unfortunately, my husband took very ill, but gratefully he is on a slow recovery. When I feel he’s good enough to travel, it’s anyone’s guess where I’ll end up going.

6. I usually take around 5 or 6 paperbacks with me on vacation, something to do with the craft of writing, and my Kindle bursting full of books I can’t wait to read.

7. Always respond to comments and visit other’s blogs to build relationships and readership to grow your community. And if you enjoyed a post, hit a share button or 2 to help share a blogger’s work and get other people to visit their blogs too.

8. The last museum I visited was about a month ago with my cousin – The Royal Ontario Art Museum, known as the ROM. I was excited to go visit the Christian Dior Exhibit,

9. Learn to drive first. Learn the value of a dollar and the what it takes to upkeep a car. Also, know, the older you get the harder it will be to get in and out of that car! Of course, a youngster won’t pay any heed to that last advice but may well remember it when they’re older. 🙂

10. My bedroom window has a large patio door which opens to a nice sized balcony.  It faces south with a small forest of trees. And beyond I can see the many skyscrapers in downtown Toronto.

To read Bonnie’s answers to the challenge please Continue Reading Here.

As I mentioned earlier, please everyone feel free to help yourself to this award from me because you are all deserving.


Source: I was nominated for The Awesome Blogger Award – #bloggingfun ! – Bonnie A. McKeegan Psychotherapist & Author of my own story

Sunday Book Review – The Sanctuary on Cayman Brac – Key to the Truth – Christoph Fischer

Sunday Book Review

Book reviews by D.G. Kaye


Today’s Sunday book review is on Christoph Fischer’sThe Sanctuary on Cayman Brac – Key to The Truth. I am a great fan of Christoph’s books and this one stood up another 5 Star Review. This book is part of the ‘Fraud or Miracle’ series, Book 3, but it’s most definitely a standalone read in case you haven’t read The Healer and The Gamblers, where Fischer brings in characters from both books into this beachy, yet whodunit type of read.


The Sanctuary on Cayman Brac: Key to the Truth (Fraud or Miracle? Book 3) by [Fischer, Christoph]

Get this Book on Amazon!



Arpan has set up a training school and spiritual retreat on the small island in the Caribbean. Yet, the peaceful and quiet existence he has sought soon comes to an end. The arrival of Erica teaches him that lose ends won’t stop until they’re truly healed and dealt with.

Erica, out to seek revenge for past wrongs soon begins to fall under the Caribbean spell and the magic of Arpan. Torn between her desire for justice and her own longing for peace, what she discovers at the school sets her again on the path of confusion and distrust.

Set in a beautiful location and spiked with a crossover from the cast of Fischer’s other mystery novel, “The Gamblers” this is another fast-paced psychological thriller about faith and deceit. Erica will finally find out the full truth about who tricked whom and we’ll all get an answer as to who will walk away with the last laugh.


My 5 Star Review:

This is the third book in the Fraud or Miracle trilogy, and I enjoyed this one just as much as Book 1 and 2. In this book, we are taken to Cayman Brac where Arpan has moved his new retreat – a spiritual healing training center where his new peaceful hideaway becomes the center for chaos, deceit and a thrilling ride of who is authentic and what are the character’s motives for showing up to the retreat in this mystical thriller. Greed is the motive for all these characters wanting to destroy Arpan and steal his business.

Erica returns to find out from Arpan if he is truly a healer or merely a con man pretending to heal her of a disease she’s not sure she really had. While taking part in the classes, she spends secret time investigating the truth behind Arpan and his dealings with the two mysterious women Julia from the pharmaceutical company who forbid Arpan to practice healing after her company bought the rights for the so called ‘elexir’ which Arpan had given up and Hilda, Erica’s ex assistant who was part of the scheme with Julia to make Erica believe she had terminal cancer but was miraculously healed. We also find Ben the accountant from the Gamblers, who shows up wanting to put his spiritual side to good use by joining the retreat, but are his intentions honest or is he part of the deceitful clan who power this story?

Fischer has a great talent for keeping his readers hooked til the very end of his books. His characters are memorable and well fleshed out. This book will keep you wondering all the way who is good and who is evil. A superb ending I never anticipated. A great whodunit for mystery lovers.

Here you can find my reviews for The Gamblers and The Healer

Guest Author – First Feature of 2018 – Sue Vincent

Guest Author – Sue Vincent

Featured author of the week


I am delighted to have here today, friend, author, blogger, painter and poet, Sue Vincent of the Daily Echo and The Silent Eye .

Sue is an intuitive, compassionate writer who is not only the author of several books, but her two blogs are always filled with thought provoking articles, inner awareness, and personal stories and explorations into the past history, shared on her Silent Eye blog where she shares journeys and mysteries of the past from the modern mystery school she runs. On the Daily Echo, Sue shares an eclectic mix of personal writing, writing prompts for other writers to join in, and she also welcomes writers to guest post on her blog, so do check that out! Last but not least, for those of you who don’t know Sue, her companion Ani often visits her blog to talk about a gripe or some of her ‘vestigations’ as she calls them. You will learn more about Ani below.

Sue Vincent

About Sue:

I am a Yorkshire born painter and writer, living in the south of England, largely due to an unfortunate incident with a map, a pin and a blindfold. . I paint the strange things that come as images in dreams and fantasies and write about life as it happens.

I was raised in a spiritually eclectic family in a landscape where myths and legends were woven into the stones, and have always had an intimate relationship with the inner worlds and the understanding that all paths are but spokes on a wheel, leading ultimately to the same centre. It is not the path that one walks that matters, but how one chooses to walk it.

More Facts About Sue:

Sue Vincent is a Yorkshire born writer currently living in the south of England, largely due to an unfortunate incident with a map, a pin and a blindfold. Raised in a spiritually eclectic family she has always had an unorthodox view on life, particularly the inner life, which is often reflected in her writing, poetry and paintings. She lived in France for several years, sharing a Bohemian lifestyle and writing songs before returning to England where the youngest of her two sons was born. In 2008 her poem, ‘The Door of Dreams’, was awarded the David Burland International Poetry Prize. At around this time she began a collaboration with Dr G Michael Vasey which resulted in the publication of their book, “The Mystical Hexagram: The Seven Inner Stars of Power” (Datura Press) and also published a small book of poems, “Echoes of Light”. 2013 was an important year for Sue. Her novel, “Sword of Destiny”, a magical tale set in the beautiful and ancient landscape of Yorkshire, was published. “The Initiate” and “Heart of Albion,Tales from the Wondrous Head” in collaboration with Stuart France, are also due for publication later this year. These two books tell a factual tale in a fictional manner, that is at once the tale of a journey into the landscape, myth and iconography of Albion and the story of a growing and rather oddball friendship. Sue is one of the Directors of the Silent Eye School of Consciousness, a modern Mystery School with students on four continents, that seeks to allow its students to find the inherent magic in living and being. She maintains a popular blog, sharing aspects of life in as many shades of vivid as her hair. She is currently owned by a small dog who also blogs.


Sue’s most recent book release


Get this book on Amazon!



“Couldn’t you make me into a Bull?” asked Coyote. In a time before Man walked the Earth, the Great Spirit breathed life into the land. Coyote was the First. Playful, subversive, curious and sometimes comical, he and his fellow creatures shaped the world for those who were to follow. Coyote is a Native American Trickster and hero of many adventures. Tales of Coyote were passed down and shared with the young to illustrate the dangers of being human.

Wilful, headstrong and always in trouble, Coyote journeyed through the spirit worlds, stealing fire and outwitting Death. When the Earth was loved as a living being, the rocks sang and the trees danced. Animals uttered Nature’s wisdom and the sun rose and set upon a wondrous world. The echoes of this magical landscape can still be found in the myths and legends of many cultures. They represent the weaving of the human spirit and the silent lore of creation. ‘Be careful, Coyote, never perform this trick more than four times in any one day.’ ‘An Imperious Impulse’ is the first book of the Lore Weavers, a collection of ancient tales retold. All traditional cultures evolved stories through which the natural and supernatural worlds could be explained and approached. Beyond their entertainment and humour is a deeper layer of mystery and symbolism through which the wisdom of the people could be transmitted. Telling of a time beyond human experience or memory, these tales meld a knowledge of the natural world with the spiritual and moral code of their creators. The essence of the human quest for an understanding of our role within creation has changed little over the millennia.

From the Dreaming of the Australian peoples, to the Great Mystery of the Native Americans and the ancient Celtic myths, there is a common thread that unites humankind across time and distance. It is in the rich tapestry of folk tales that we glimpse its multi-hued beauty. Long may they continue to be enjoyed.


Ani the dog

Ani the Dog (Person)

Ani’s Book

Laughter Lines: Life from the Tail End by [Vincent, Sue]


Do you know what really happened between George and the Dragon? Or why Briar Rose got her name? And have you ever suffered the indignity of an overdunked ginger nut?
Take a life with a small dog in tow, add a dash of red hair dye, a selection of crumbling biscuits and a passion for recitable verse… The result is a recipe for laughter. Sue Vincent shares her world in verse.


Now, let’s hear from Sue about her writing, blogging, mystery school, and of course, Ani.


Okay, I’m starting with my favorite question for all creatives – especially you, who writes, teaches and runs two blogs – how on earth do you make time for writing books?

I work every day too, so I am not altogether sure. I suspect that Time took one look at the inside of my mind and decided he needed a vacation.

Seriously, I get up early and go to bed late with a book. The rest of the day is taken up with work, writing and researching as needed, and running the blog. Ani, the infamous Small Dog, makes sure I get out in the fresh air and Stuart and I wander the countryside whenever we can get together. Most of our work stems from these adventures.


What was your earliest fascination with the Mysteries of Life that inspired your explorations and wanderings you partake in and share at your site, The Silent Eye? And what types of courses do you offer at your Modern Mystery School?

I can’t remember a time when I wasn’t aware of the Mysteries, although it would be years before I called them by that name. I grew up in a family where the Greater Reality was simply accepted as normality…which it is… and where pyschism and magic were not dismissed, but studied. Growing up in that spiritually eclectic family allowed me to explore many systems of belief and allowed me to find my own path.

That path eventually led me to meeting Steve Tanham and, along with Stuart France, becoming part of the Silent Eye. We have all studied within various branches of the Mysteries and saw a need for a new direction. We wanted to shape a vessel for spiritual exploration that did not need the accretion of arcane symbolism that is common to most Mystery Schools. The real Mysteries are to be found within, not in complex rituals or the ‘barbarous names of evocation’.

          The Silent Eye operates as a not-for-profit organization. We offer a three-year course of monthly lessons, with each student, or Companion, being assigned a personal mentor to walk with them through the journey. The course is designed to open the Companion to a wider and more intimate view of their own inner being and their place, and potential, within the Greater Reality.

          We also run regular informal workshop weekends, within the ancient and sacred landscape. Once a year, we run a more formal workshop that uses the ancient techniques of ritual drama to teach through personal experience. We keep the events list updated on the Silent Eye website and they are open to all.


Please tell us a little about Ani (your dog/person) and how she inspired you to help her write a book?

Ani, also known as The Black Beast, and ‘Anu’ in the books written with Stuart France, is a very special creature. She is a cross between an English Setter and a Nova Scotia Duck Tolling Retriever…and mad as a hatter.

There have always been dogs in my life, but this one tops them all. She has the most expressive face of any dog I have ever met, is always in mischief, and manages to make herself very well understood.

I allowed her to write a blog one day… I had not been blogging all that long and had not, back then, come across any other blogging dogs. Her post was popular, so it became a regular feature. Then a book. And she inspired so many of my own daft poems that she ended up with another book… Laughter Lines, Life at the Tail End.

She consistently outperforms me on the blog, outsells me on Amazon and gets all the fan mail.


You’re a profound poet and I know you’ve won the David Burland International Poetry Prize in 2008, and you also wrote a column for The Spirit Guides. Can you tell us a little about what that column is about?

I got the poetry bug from my mother, herself a prolific writer. As a child, I was fascinated by the handwritten volumes of poetry from her own youth and, like many others, I started writing poetry in my teens. Unlike many of my friends, who went in for scribbling the heart-wrenching romance of teenagerhood, my first poem was a humorous one about my little brother and the tricks he played on his sister.


You’ve co-authored several books with your colleague Stuart France, can you share with us a little about the Mister Fox series?

Stuart and I began writing to document our adventures in the landscape. We chose a semi-fictional format to allow us a little leeway, but, believe it or not, most of what is written is merely reported from reality.

Mister Fox came about after meeting the enigmatic ‘Charles James Fox’ and his fire-dancers. Mister Fox is by far the most exciting live event I have ever attended.  They dance in the dark, masked and wielding flame… and both Stuart and I love what they do. We wanted to tell the story of the dance and preserve the legends they have created and chose to do so as a series of graphic novels. Within them, we tell the stories behind the dance, stories that are woven from the mythology of the deep past.


What are your plans for this New Year as far as writing goes? Is there another book in the works?

Oddly enough, the book we are working on at present is another Fox book… Mister Fox: The Winter’s Tail. The Foxes, ousted from their traditional dancing ground by the Demon Dogs, need a new home. Someone should have told them about the dragon, though…

We are also looking at revisiting some of our earlier books, creating new covers and revising them. You learn a lot over time and it is time to put what we have learned to good use.


Please share with us a bit about your latest book co-authored with Stuart France – An Imperious Impulse: Coyote Tales and an excerpt.

We have used the graphic format again for An Imperious Impulse, which explores some of the ancient stories of Coyote. We had an awful lot of fun getting the images for this book. We took a Coyote headdress out into the land and drew many strange looks from people. On one occasion, a group of teenage boys just happened to visit the cave where we were working. They took one look, uttered some unprintable expletives… and fled.

The book is the first of a series we are planning, retelling some of the myths and legends from cultures across human history and exploring their deeper meanings. The old tales of every culture share many common themes, addressing the needs, hopes, fears and beliefs of the human family. It is our hope that through these books, we can add our mite to growing realization that no matter where, or when, we may come from, we share the same human story at heart.


Coyote by Sue Vincent


Thank you so much Sue for being my guest, and for sharing more about yourself and your work and books. It was a treat having you over here and learning more about Ani too, the force of nature. 🙂

You can visit Sue’s many beautiful books on Amazon

All books available in paperback and for Kindle via Amazon.

Click for Amazon’s books by Sue Vincent – UK – USA – France – Germany – Japan – and India


Connect with Sue:

You can find me on Facebook: S.C.Vincent and on Twitter @SCVincent or contact me using the contact form below or by Email:

Ani has her own Facebook page if you care to call in she would be glad to see you.

For news of books by myself and Stuart France please visit our website: or join our Facebook  page Silent Eye Authors.

For further details of The Silent Eye please visit our website or keep up to date with events via our Facebook page.

Details of the books can also be found on GoodreadsAmazon UK and and your local Amazon site, where you can click ‘follow’ for updates on the latest books.

We Are Home – On the Road to Recovery #Gratitude


On the Road to Recovery

Maya Angelou Quote - Nurses

I found this memo pinned on to the bulletin board at the nurse’s station in the hospital today and just loved it. It is so true that when people extend kindness and compassion and can care for others in their most humiliating moments – those people are always remembered.


My husband has been to North York General Hospital a few times now for surgical procedures, and a few times in the ER, which ultimately led to another visit in the surgical department. I remember quite a few nurses for their compassion, but it was also nice for a few to come up to me when I was sitting beside my husband while waiting in pre-op. Three of those nurses approached me to say hello. They were the ones who commented on how well I take care of my husband. So you see, it’s not only us finding compassionate nurses, but them also noticing the compassion their patients receive from others.


Even the best of healthcare systems could always use more nurses. I know how much they are relied on, and I had a few 12 hour days where I had plenty of time to observe. As good as the nurses are, they just don’t have the time to give more than the required attention to a patient because they have too many patients to take care of. So I do my best not to bother them for things unnecessarily. And I know how exhausted they must be looking after so many for many hours. But I’m an old pro at finding things in the supply cupboard and pantry without having to ask for things. When we demonstrate to the nurses that one of their patients isn’t as needy as others, they are quite willing to do other little favors for me when asked. It’s all in the giving to receive.


I was so touched by the beautiful comments you all have left me not only here, but on other social media and by email. My husband came home yesterday after a long 5 days in the hospital. They kept him in emergency most of the weekend hooked up to various cocktails to halt the bleeding until Monday’s procedure was done by my husband’s own gastro-enterologist, who happens to be an amazing person and doctor. Only 3 days before he was rushed into hospital we had visited Dr. B in his office for a follow up from the prior 2 week past emergency visit at the hospital, which turned out to be a completely different issue than this visit. Dr. B had scoped him both ways previously and told us all was calm and gave us his blessing to head off to Mexico (supposedly 2 weeks today we’d be leaving for the winter). But after hubby was taken into the operating room to be scoped again down his throat, Dr. B came into the recovery room and announced, “Deb, you guys won’t be going anywhere for a long while.”


Apparently, as my husband’s age progresses, so does his liver disease. With this disease, pressure mounts on the portal vein which runs from the liver to the heart. As pressure mounts, something called varices can grow, not unlike small varicose veins that have a potentially fatal propensity to burst in the lower esophagus, which is what happened. The treatment is a ligation banding where they insert ‘elastic-like bands’ through a scope to tie off and strangle that vein to kill it from further bleeding. The scary part is that it can happen again somewhere else. A most frightening and horrific thought to ever have to experience that again to say the least. He was also put on some other new meds – beta blockers, to try to keep the pressure from surging on that big portal vein.


They say it changes people when they have a life and death experience, in the same way a person who smokes a pack a day couldn’t imagine how a heart attack could change their life until it happens. I remember my own heart surgery to remove a tumor. I was petrified that I may never wake up afterward. And when I did, and realized how close I was to the possibility of dying, and surviving just makes you see the big picture – a little bigger.


We finally came home and had our melt down moment together after he cleaned up, shaved and napped at home. On came the tears with apologies for putting me through these last 5 days, the thank yous for saving his life and being there for him 24/7, and his realization that he was lucky to survive. And out came the emotional sea that had been welling up inside me for those same 5 days. But we are home now. And as Dorothy says, “There’s no place like home.”


D.G. Kaye Worn Out
Worn out but grateful



Right now we are focused on recovery – getting his strength back, his hemoglobin back up, adjusted to the new meds, and my mission to fatten him up. I also ordered a baby monitor to help give me peace of mind so I can put one monitor in the room he’s in and the base where I work so I can hear him calling. This will certainly ease my ongoing  concern I can’t hear him calling from the other side of our condo, saving me with my paranoia from having to get up every 5 minutes to see if he’s okay.


And so begins his road to recovery and me slowly getting back to a mountain of things to tackle to catch up on life that was put on hold this past week. And once again, I want to thank the so many of you friends who left comments and messages for me with love, wishes, and prayers. It has meant the world to me to know how much I was thought of, and that you are all my circle of community and friends, a community I missed being a part of very much. So just know how grateful I am.

Thank you gratitude


Where Have I Been? What Happened?

What happened?


I just wanted to post a note here to inform you about my absence around social media and YOUR blogs.


Once again my husband took very ill. And once again I almost lost him this past early Saturday morning.  When my brain isn’t fried from mental and emotional exhaustion I may write more about it, but for now I’ll just say that I’ve been pretty much living at the hospital this weekend and Monday morning he’ll be having exploratory surgery to see what caused his near fatal loss of life.

For the past year and a half my husband has encountered many ongoing health problems and with a combination of terrible gastro issues from his radiation induced proctitis and colitis and cirrhosis of part of his liver causing unpredictable episodes of blood loss and residually, fatal drops in his hemoglobin needing immediate blood transfusions, my life has become an unsettled, on call at all times kind of lifestyle. By the grace of God I’ve been there the many times he passed out and convulsed and saved him from cracking his head open. This time was no different.

He had a rough night Friday night of what he thought was the most terrible indigestion he ever remembered, and after taking all his meds and anything else I had in my bag of tricks he couldn’t find relief. I’d already made the decision if it didn’t stop by morning I was taking him to the hospital. But as it turned out, I didn’t have to take him, the ambulance did.

I’ll preface this by saying my husband will always act stoic and do his best to never complain about how he feels, this comes with a double-edged sword. I tell him repeatedly that he has to come clean when he’s not feeling well so we can stay one step ahead of what’s to come from his symptoms. Because he doesn’t always want to let on he’s not well I’ve learned to read his mood, face and words with an investigative eye.

I heard him getting out of bed around  645am and my inner alarm bells sounded when I instinctively knew he couldn’t keep his balance. When I heard him bang into the dresser, I had the sick feeling the slight dizziness he complained of the night before may mean his hemoglobin had dropped. And despite my questioning myself in those nano seconds of no sightings of blood I turned around and leaped out of bed like superwoman without a cape to catch his head while he fell before it hit the hardwood floor. He moaned he couldn’t feel his legs that’s why he fell and asked me to help him to the bathroom only 4 feet away from his fall. I tried to lift him but he was dead weight without his legs helping us out. I lifted him to his knees only to have him fall again and I stuck out my arm to break his fall before his head hit the bathroom doorframe. I was mortified that his face went white like an actual ghost and his eyes began convulsing just like the Excorcist movie. My heart was racing as I struggled to prop him up against the door so I could get to the phone to call 911. The most horrifying sight was his eyes rolling around and then the pool of blood he projectile vomitted everywhere.

I’ve trained myself to look like I’m calm when I’m dying inside but trembling, I ran to the phone and dialed 911 as I screamed hysterically at what I’d just witnessed. I was one of those type of people we all see on TV crime shows when someone is in shock calling 911. I sat on the floor with him as his face and body was covered with blood only leaving him for a split second to run and unlock the door for the paramedics and they came and took him away immediately without the usual 20 minutes they’d spent in the past calls checking all his vitals and asking me a million questions.

They asked me if I wanted to come with them or follow in my car. I couldn’t go, I had to collect his things and I was in pyjamas and my brain felt like it froze and I couldn’t think at 715 am. I called my sister in my shocked state to tell her what happened and I couldn’t control my hysteria. She told me to get dressed she’d be over in 10 minutes to pick me up, shouting at me to listen to her and don’t dare get in my car and drive.

Soon after his arrival in the ER they had my husband on a blood transfusion.  He was 1 point off the legal limit of being able to receive a transfusion – 71. He was hooked up to various infusions to halt the internal bleeding and  I was hoping they’d take him into surgery but because they had got the bleeding under control and it was the weekend, the surgery was put off til this Monday morning (today).

We are so blessed to have a wonderful healthcare system in Canada and our hospital is wonderful in many respects, but like many hospitals around the globe there always seems to be a shortage of nursing staff so I make it my business to look after whatever needs looking after without hunting down a nurse. And so right now it seems like one long day of 2 for me with not much sleep as I’ve been looking after my husband and await the findings of tomorrow, thankfully with his own gastro-enterologist doing the exploring inside him. So, I just came home after my 13 hour shift again, wrote this post and can barely keep my eyes opened and must now go to bed so I can get up at 430am, time to have a coffee and wake myself up and get ready to be there at 6am.

I wanted to share this here because I know many of you are used to seeing me around your blogs daily and I always respond to comments promptly and when you don’t see me around and I haven’t announced a time out, I felt it my obligation to let you know why.

Now, I know I’m severelyyy behind in blog reading, and while my eyes can barely stay open on the computer to read any at this time, my notifications are  multiplying by the 100s, LOL. So  just know, I will be back round later this week, but forgive me for the many posts I may have missed going forward.

Thanks for all your support and I promise to be back to regular posting and visits soon!

See you soon!