[et_pb_section fb_built=”1″ _builder_version=”4.9.0″ _module_preset=”default”][et_pb_row _builder_version=”4.9.2″ _module_preset=”default” background_color=”rgba(0,148,216,0.87)” box_shadow_style=”preset6″ box_shadow_spread=”21px”][et_pb_column type=”4_4″ _builder_version=”4.9.0″ _module_preset=”default”][et_pb_text _builder_version=”4.9.2″ _module_preset=”default” text_text_color=”#FFFFFF” background_enable_color=”off” custom_margin=”2%|4%|2%|5%|false|false” custom_padding=”|5px||5px|false|true”]<\/p>\n
Isolation has always been my love language,<\/strong> but as soon as I\u2019m stationed overseas (which happens A LOT) or told to social distance, I\u2019m compelled to begin creative projects with people I can\u2019t get to.<\/p>\n Whether it\u2019s collaborating with my brothers on music \/ art \/ writing or painting Bronte-inspired literary gifts for The Crow Emporium, this pandemic has produced unanticipated joy.<\/p>\n I think the only way to combat sadness, frustration, and terror is not to fight it; we have to make it work for us.<\/p>\n [\/et_pb_text][\/et_pb_column][\/et_pb_row][et_pb_row _builder_version=”4.9.2″ _module_preset=”default” custom_margin=”2%||-4%||false|false”][et_pb_column type=”4_4″ _builder_version=”4.9.0″ _module_preset=”default”][et_pb_text_divider divider_title=”The \u201cSilent Current from Within\u201d Project” _builder_version=”4.9.0″ _module_preset=”default”][\/et_pb_text_divider][\/et_pb_column][\/et_pb_row][et_pb_row _builder_version=”4.9.0″ _module_preset=”default”][et_pb_column type=”4_4″ _builder_version=”4.9.0″ _module_preset=”default”][et_pb_text _builder_version=”4.9.2″ _module_preset=”default”]<\/p>\n When we were small in Alabama, my father took us camping up on Green Mountain. I had one job: don’t get lost.<\/p>\n Camping on Green Mountain was The Wild.<\/strong> We drove up the road from the tornado-stricken valley where our house repeatedly survived, through dense vibrant forest, all the way to the top, to the lake. The winding trail.<\/strong> The little cabin left open for hikers to explore, take shelter, or pretend they were, say, a female Civil War soldier hiding from the enemy in need of a fire, more bullets, and a burlap curtain to peek out from.<\/p>\n We would drive to our site, pitch the tent, take out the pizza box, and pull up the antenna from Dad\u2019s mini portable TV. I was assured that my survival skills were up to scratch as I ate processed cheese, watching black and white TV, on a Care-Bear sleeping bag IN THE WILD. Later once, at dusk, I went to the bathroom (a building) and forgot which way our tent was. For a terrifying moment I knew, in the core of my being, that I was alone. In The Wild.<\/strong> Well,<\/em>\u00a0I thought, standing on the gravel path, surrounded by tall trees, an outhouse, and the distant voices of unknown humans,\u00a0this is where I live now.\u00a0<\/em>I was lost.<\/strong><\/p>\n ***<\/strong><\/p>\n In the fall of 2020, so\u00a0 . . . five months ago, seems much longer . . . my brother Charlie told me he\u2019d finished a new EP inspired by Anne Bronte (of course, love it), Anne Carson (LOVE it, want to be her), and me (awesome, love\u2013what?<\/em>) ~-Reader, I wish you all health, happiness, and a brother who believes in you.~ He then asked me to be ready<\/strong>\u00a0to come up with some sort of craft, because he was asking our brother, Chris, to write a folktale based on the prose pieces and the spirit of the music.<\/p>\n <\/p>\n [\/et_pb_text][\/et_pb_column][\/et_pb_row][et_pb_row column_structure=”1_2,1_2″ admin_label=”row” _builder_version=”3.25″ background_size=”initial” background_position=”top_left” background_repeat=”repeat”][et_pb_column type=”1_2″ _builder_version=”3.25″ custom_padding=”|||” custom_padding__hover=”|||”][et_pb_image src=”https:\/\/writersatlarge.com\/riff\/wp-content\/uploads\/2021\/03\/pexels-karolina-grabowska-4218697-scaled.jpg” title_text=”pexels-karolina-grabowska-4218697″ _builder_version=”4.9.2″ _module_preset=”default” box_shadow_style=”preset2″ box_shadow_horizontal=”-15px” box_shadow_vertical=”0px”][\/et_pb_image][\/et_pb_column][et_pb_column type=”1_2″ _builder_version=”3.25″ custom_padding=”|||” custom_padding__hover=”|||”][et_pb_text admin_label=”Text” _builder_version=”4.9.2″ text_text_color=”#ffffff” background_color=”rgba(4,28,56,0.49)” background_size=”initial” background_position=”top_left” background_repeat=”repeat” custom_margin=”10%|0%|2%|-15%|false|false” custom_padding=”5%|5%|5%|5%|false|false”]<\/p>\n \u201cAs Simple as Water<\/strong>\u201d is inspired by Anne Carson\u2019s \u201cCamino,\u201c<\/strong> from her brilliant\u00a0Anthropology of Water<\/em>. In it, the journey itself is what gives direction. The road asks the only thing you long to give; I believe that is the thing you love that gives you life, your purpose.<\/p>\n In \u201cIf This Be All<\/strong>,\u201d Anne Bronte\u2019s heartbreaking and beautiful poem, there are no friends around; love must happen from far away; there is wandering and toiling, constant care, frequent pain. . . .You\u2019re nodding your head, Reader. She writes, If this is it, God, then come get me. I wanna go home. Or . . . give me the strength to get through it. Because I know You can<\/em>.<\/p>\n I wrote the piece leading to \u201cA Marked and Mended Sign<\/strong>\u201d for a friend who has become as close to me as any sister could be. We\u2019ve never met. It began with a business-related email, which continued on to messaging and has resulted in a meeting of kindred spirits. I never saw it coming<\/strong>. I didn\u2019t know anything was missing, and I have no idea how I\u2019d come so far without her.<\/p>\n [\/et_pb_text][\/et_pb_column][\/et_pb_row][et_pb_row column_structure=”3_4,1_4″ make_equal=”on” _builder_version=”4.9.0″ _module_preset=”default”][et_pb_column type=”3_4″ _builder_version=”4.9.0″ _module_preset=”default”][et_pb_text _builder_version=”4.9.2″ _module_preset=”default” custom_padding=”|2%|||false|false” custom_padding_tablet=”” custom_padding_phone=”” custom_padding_last_edited=”on|desktop” hover_enabled=”0″ sticky_enabled=”0″]<\/p>\n When I took a 6-week writing class in Italy (you can hate me a little right now; I know I do), I went with some girls to the Academia to see Michelangelo\u2019s David. While in line outside, there were three fascinating middle-aged women, cousins, behind us. One was very athletic, no makeup, lousy outfit, an overbite; one was small, mousy hair, smiled a lot, agreed with everything, kept adjusting her purse strap; and one was tall, long dark hair, dressed to kill, bejeweled within an inch of her life, talked forever, danced with teenaged Italian boys, wore large glamorous sunglasses to shock said Italian boys with her age as she removed them, and also, she had cancer.<\/p>\n [\/et_pb_text][\/et_pb_column][et_pb_column type=”1_4″ _builder_version=”4.9.0″ _module_preset=”default”][et_pb_image src=”https:\/\/writersatlarge.com\/riff\/wp-content\/uploads\/2021\/03\/David_by_Michelangelo_JBU06.jpg” title_text=”‘David’_by_Michelangelo_JBU06″ _builder_version=”4.9.2″ _module_preset=”default” box_shadow_style=”preset2″ box_shadow_vertical=”24px” box_shadow_blur=”31px” box_shadow_spread=”-6px”][\/et_pb_image][\/et_pb_column][\/et_pb_row][et_pb_row _builder_version=”4.9.0″ _module_preset=”default”][et_pb_column type=”4_4″ _builder_version=”4.9.0″ _module_preset=”default”][et_pb_text _builder_version=”4.9.2″ _module_preset=”default”]<\/p>\n I lost track of the women as we funneled into the museum. Before I could get to the David, I had to go through corridors filled with unfinished, brilliant, sculptures: Michelangelo\u2019s rough drafts. My mind was blown. I wrote a heartbreaking short story about three middle aged women seeing the David, filled with detail and meaning and character development and emotional tension. It was rejected for the next 15 years. And not \u201chigh tier\u201d rejections, Reader. These were hard passes.<\/p>\n I kept thinking,\u00a0But\u2013The David scene! The Camping scene! They\u2019re so good. Can\u2019t anyone see that?<\/em><\/p>\n Nope. They couldn\u2019t. Because\u00a0they were hidden<\/strong>.<\/p>\n <\/p>\n [\/et_pb_text][\/et_pb_column][\/et_pb_row][et_pb_row _builder_version=”4.9.2″ _module_preset=”default” use_background_color_gradient=”on” background_color_gradient_start=”rgba(0,0,0,0.75)” background_color_gradient_end=”rgba(106,148,237,0.48)” background_color_gradient_overlays_image=”on” background_image=”https:\/\/writersatlarge.com\/riff\/wp-content\/uploads\/2021\/03\/istockphoto-1065334554-612×612-1.jpg” custom_margin=”-3%||-2%||false|false” border_width_all=”4px”][et_pb_column type=”4_4″ _builder_version=”4.7.4″ _module_preset=”default”][et_pb_text _builder_version=”4.9.2″ _module_preset=”default” text_text_color=”#ffffff” custom_padding=”|2%||2%|false|false” border_color_right=”#e09900″ border_width_all_tablet=”0px” border_width_all_phone=”” border_width_all_last_edited=”on|tablet” border_width_right_tablet=”0px” border_width_right_phone=”” border_width_right_last_edited=”on|desktop”]<\/p>\n I joined a Facebook group in January last year whose sole purpose is to get 100 Rejections within the year. I made it to 78. It was a real mindscrew to not just\u00a0be ok<\/em>\u00a0with, but\u00a0EXCITED<\/strong>,\u00a0for a rejection.<\/p>\n <\/p>\n <\/p>\n <\/p>\n It–and I don\u2019t say this lightly–changed my life. It gave me a direction as clear as any map. My list of rejections grew quickly and my spirits actually lifted. I took out that \u201cboring three women in Italy story\u201d and deleted everything that touched them until I had only the parts I couldn\u2019t stop thinking about: The David and The Camping. Then I just talked to myself on paper.<\/p>\n [\/et_pb_text][\/et_pb_column][\/et_pb_row][et_pb_row _builder_version=”4.9.0″ _module_preset=”default”][et_pb_column type=”4_4″ _builder_version=”4.9.0″ _module_preset=”default”][et_pb_text _builder_version=”4.9.2″ _module_preset=”default”]<\/p>\n \n \n It was the first thing to be accepted.\u00a0Read it here<\/a>\u00a0<\/p>\n Waterwheel Review<\/em> (Love them; wish all magazines were like them) asked if I had any preference or knew of any artists to post as a companion piece. I messaged Charlie. \u201cUntil the Charm Fades<\/strong>\u201d was born.<\/p>\n Sometimes hiding is neither cowardice nor preservation, but fermenting . . . gaining value.<\/p>\n I\u2019m not the only one who did a lot of hiding last year. Some was forced, but a lot wasn\u2019t. Also, my little fermenting metaphor isn\u2019t 100% literary device . . .\u00a0but I know that much of what\u2019s been written, composed, painted, discovered, created, purged, ignited, realized, and accepted would never have happened without the isolation, fear, discouragement, and frustration we\u2019ve all been through and continue to go through. We don\u2019t have to believe it will get better. We just have to believe it\u00a0could<\/strong>. That\u2019s the only way to put a foot forward one more time.<\/p>\n ***<\/strong><\/p>\n On the Green Mountain trail, toward the end, there is an open-air chapel. Our dad was a minister, but more than that, he believes<\/strong>. No matter how gross we were, how tired, how whiny, or how exasperated he was with us, we would stop there and at least sit on the splintery benches. We\u2019d still be fighting, but we sat down just the same. Somewhere in my child heart I knew:\u00a0This is where I acknowledge Him. In the Wild.\u00a0<\/em>Even though I knew He was with me the whole time.<\/p>\n [\/et_pb_text][\/et_pb_column][\/et_pb_row][et_pb_row _builder_version=”4.9.2″ _module_preset=”default” background_color=”rgba(0,0,0,0.27)” box_shadow_style=”preset6″ box_shadow_horizontal=”5px” box_shadow_vertical=”7px” box_shadow_blur=”26px”][et_pb_column type=”4_4″ _builder_version=”4.9.0″ _module_preset=”default”][et_pb_image src=”https:\/\/writersatlarge.com\/riff\/wp-content\/uploads\/2021\/03\/Trail.png” title_text=”Trail” _builder_version=”4.9.0″ _module_preset=”default” background_enable_color=”off” custom_padding=”|5%||5%|false|true”][\/et_pb_image][\/et_pb_column][\/et_pb_row][et_pb_row column_structure=”1_2,1_2″ make_equal=”on” _builder_version=”4.9.0″ _module_preset=”default”][et_pb_column type=”1_2″ _builder_version=”4.9.0″ _module_preset=”default”][et_pb_text _builder_version=”4.9.0″ _module_preset=”default” custom_padding=”||1px|||”]<\/p>\n Anne Bronte was the baby of her family. She was quiet. Kind. Devout. Proper. But she wrote revolutionary, theologically-questioning, society-shattering prose and poetry. She knew how to acknowledge her hope while challenging everything that stood against it. I believe her faith was ironclad\u00a0because<\/em>\u00a0she questioned.<\/p>\n Belief is a quest. If something doesn\u2019t line up mind, voice,\u00a0and<\/em> heart\u2013-then I know I haven\u2019t found the answer yet. There\u2019s a lot to allow, to concede, to compromise on a journey.<\/p>\n Preparation involves choices in equipment, nourishment, necessary comforts. Know your route. Take a map. Check the weather. Anticipate what you can and decide to power through what you can\u2019t. It\u2019s difficult to stay on course, questions and all, no matter how we get burned.<\/p>\n There\u2019s so much out there that we can\u2019t see coming, but it\u2019s not all bad. In fact, it\u2019s probably a lot better than we can imagine from our spot in The Wild.<\/strong><\/p>\n <\/strong><\/p>\n [\/et_pb_text][\/et_pb_column][et_pb_column type=”1_2″ _builder_version=”4.9.0″ _module_preset=”default”][et_pb_image src=”https:\/\/writersatlarge.com\/riff\/wp-content\/uploads\/2021\/03\/928485b1-843f-4510-be93-fb862560de78.jpeg” title_text=”928485b1-843f-4510-be93-fb862560de78″ _builder_version=”4.9.2″ _module_preset=”default” custom_margin=”|||7%|false|false” custom_padding=”|||2%|false|false” custom_padding_tablet=”” custom_padding_phone=”” custom_padding_last_edited=”on|desktop” box_shadow_style=”preset1″][\/et_pb_image][\/et_pb_column][\/et_pb_row][et_pb_row column_structure=”1_2,1_2″ make_equal=”on” _builder_version=”4.9.0″ _module_preset=”default”][et_pb_column type=”1_2″ _builder_version=”4.9.0″ _module_preset=”default”][et_pb_image src=”https:\/\/writersatlarge.com\/riff\/wp-content\/uploads\/2021\/03\/54eac264-fad2-466f-bacf-05a2d9b55d7d.jpeg” title_text=”54eac264-fad2-466f-bacf-05a2d9b55d7d” _builder_version=”4.9.2″ _module_preset=”default” custom_padding=”|5%|5%||false|false” custom_padding_tablet=”” custom_padding_phone=”” custom_padding_last_edited=”on|desktop” box_shadow_style=”preset2″][\/et_pb_image][et_pb_image src=”https:\/\/writersatlarge.com\/riff\/wp-content\/uploads\/2021\/03\/Map.jpg” title_text=”Map” _builder_version=”4.9.2″ _module_preset=”default” custom_padding=”|5%|||false|false” custom_padding_tablet=”” custom_padding_phone=”” custom_padding_last_edited=”on|desktop” box_shadow_style=”preset2″][\/et_pb_image][\/et_pb_column][et_pb_column type=”1_2″ _builder_version=”4.9.0″ _module_preset=”default”][et_pb_text _builder_version=”4.9.2″ _module_preset=”default” custom_margin=”|||3%|false|false”]<\/p>\n Charlie Rauh\u2019s EP,\u00a0THE SILENT CURRENT FROM WITHIN<\/strong>, will be available from Destiny Records for pre-order February 12, 2021. BUY IT HERE<\/a>\u00a0<\/p>\n A limited run of 36 packages will be offered at that time as well. Each package will include a hand written segment of \u201cNote the Wind\u201d (a folktale by Chris Rauh, written in response to the music), a full version of the story as a PDF download, a hand-drawn map detailing the landscape of the story, a compass, and a digital download of the EP and art work by me and Cameron Mizell.<\/p>\n Each segment of the story is also part of a larger image of the map, making the individual pieces completely unique.<\/p>\n <\/p>\nThere are only four written springboards.<\/strong><\/span><\/h4>\n
The Good is hidden from us now, waiting. But that\u2019s what treasure does.<\/em><\/span><\/h4>\n