Some wise quotes about gratitude

I have one main thanksgiving-type quote, but it seemed kind of simple and not super weighty or thoughty, so I turned to Google and found some really good ones: 

“When I started counting my blessings, my whole life turned around." —Willie Nelson

"Be thankful for what you have; you'll end up having more. If you concentrate on what you don't have, you will never, ever have enough." —Oprah Winfrey

"Piglet noticed that even though he had a Very Small Heart, it could hold a rather large amount of Gratitude." —A.A. Milne

“ ‘Thank you’ is the best prayer that anyone could say. I say that one a lot. Thank you expresses extreme gratitude, humility, understanding.” —Alice Walker

“The roots of all goodness lie in the soil of appreciation for goodness.” —Dalai Lama

“When eating fruit, remember the one who planted the tree.”—Vietnamese Proverb

“Silent gratitude isn’t very much to anyone.”—Gertrude Stein

Humans can be so wise. I'm human, but  not always wise. My personal go-to quote is unattributed and unattributable, though I say it almost constantly. And not to put myself anything like on the level of these deep thinkers and talented folks, I'll just sneak it here at the end. Here goes:

"Thank you." --me

Thankfulness and Gratitude

In this week of being consciously thankful and grateful, this quote by Henri Frederic Amiel reminds me that my thoughts and deeds are concentric circles creating ripples in the Universe. What flows out, flows back. Let kindness inform the intention and compassion shape the action.

Happy (Early) Thanksgiving

Thank you.

 It's Thanksgiving time in the US. We are supposed to post about the most profound and simplest statement of gratitude that we can think of. 

Thank you seems to cover that pretty well. It's amazing to me how many people have trouble with those two words. They're almost as rare as I'm Sorry. But it's easy to forget, isn't it? When the world is doing its best to me you lower your head and push past the inconveniences, the fights, the squabbles, and protests? The world does that. It gets us into trouble. Politically speaking I don't have to look any further than the current president of these United States to see an example of selfishness personified. I don't care what side of the political coin is yours, it's just pathetic to see. 

We have a plague wiping out hundreds of thousands of people across the globe. We have had a season of truly epic hurricanes and tropical storms. We have seen millions of acres of land burned and destroyed this year, and heatwaves that are epic continue to hit the planet. In a time when we should be seeking unity, were have a virtual army of buffoons who can't wear a mask without throwing fits about their freedoms being taken away, and we have armies if, well, gun-happy clowns, running around carrying their weapons and doing their best to look intimidating. 

It's easy to see the negatives, isn't it? It always is. 

And yet, there are a million reasons to say thank you. I was silent here for over a year, because I woke up one morning with a growth on the side of my neck that turned out to be cancer of the tonsil. It was fast-acting and it could easily have killed me. I had doctors taking their own sweet time in making appointments for me to see specialist after specialist, while I struggled to continue breathing, while I found out the hard way that eating is damned near impossible when you can't swallow. 

But I had one young man who listened when I said I couldn't;t wait two more weeks to see the next specialist. He took the time to called around and got me an appointment at 8 am the very next day. That appointment got me in the hospital the same day, and got the machinations started to aggressively treat my cancer. I had people outside of the hospital who got me financial help in the form of a GoFundMe site. I would have never even considered that option. 

I got financial help when I needed it most. I got treatment for my cancer. I got help from literally hundreds of people, many of whom I never met, who had no reason to offer me help, aside from simply being kind-hearted.  They helped me, when there was nothing in it for them. 

How amazing is that?

Listen, it's not perfect. My health is not what it used to be. They mean it when they say the treatment for cancer is damned near as bad as the cancer itself. It's brutal, and it's nearly crippling. My heart is not the same. My body has suffered debilitating side effects. But you know what? I'm alive and currently cancer free. I've lost 70 plus pounds, had a few teeth pulled, and I spent six months with chemo brain stopping me from writing virtually anything at all. 

But I'm still here. 

I have a lot to be thankful for. More than I can express. 

As I said last year, I have so much to be thankful for and truly I am blessed. 

And all I can say is Thank You. 

I can never repay the debts, but I'm trying to pay it forward. 

And I hope I never find a reason to forget to say Thank You. 

 

The Simplest and Most Profound Expression of Gratitude

Our topic at the SFF Seven this week is our favorite quote of gratitude. Mine is very simple - and profound enough that it's shaped much of my life.

Why?

No, not why is it simple and profound, etc. The quote is exactly that:

Why?

I learned this from my favorite college professor, who was also my major adviser in Comparative Religious Studies. (He identified as a non-practicing Orthodox Jew, which - if you know much about Judaism - tells you pretty much everything you need to know about him.) He said that our tendency as human beings is to question misfortune. When we get sick, or a loved one dies, or some other terrible misfortune befalls us, we turn our eyes to the heavens and ask why?

 

Why me?

Why them?

Why did this have to happen?

But, when good fortune comes our way - when we succeed in our efforts, when the people we love are still there when the next day arrives, even when we continue to be healthy and able-bodied - we don't ask why. We don't beseech the heavens with questions like:

Why am I so lucky to be healthy?

Why do I have such a comfortable life?

Why do these wonderful people and animals love so much?

This came as a huge revelation to my 18-year old self, and I have to remind myself constantly to ask those questions. It's a profound exercise in gratitude to look at my life and question why I'm so very blessed.

 

Along with this comes questioning my success as an author. It's easy to focus on my failures, to bemoan why I don't get everything I set out to do. Even easier is to congratulate myself for success, as if it's entirely due to my own efforts, rather than serendipity. So, I'm giving particular thanks for these badges of great fortune. UNDER A WINTER SKY has done brilliantly this week, and I couldn't be more grateful.

In this case, I don't have to ask why, because I know it's because of all of you. Thank you. 

      

 

Excerpt from Veronica's Work in Progress JAMOKAN

 This week at the SFF Seven, we're sharing a snippet from a work in progress. I’ve been working – slooooowly – on my next Badari Warriors book, JAMOKAN. Everything going on with the pandemic and politics this year had made it hard for me to feel energized and creative (plus I’ve had several chronic health issues flare up recently). I actually have gotten six books out this year, much to my own amazement. Originally I thought JAMOKAN was going to be a novella but of course the characters thought otherwise and I’m over 50K with some major scenes still to be written.

I haven’t written the blurb for the book yet because one challenge at a time, you know? Here’s the series blurb: Genetically engineered soldiers of the far future, the Badari were created by alien enemies to fight humans. But then the scientists kidnapped an entire human colony from the Sectors to use as subjects in twisted experiments…the Badari and the humans made common cause, rebelled and escaped the labs. Now they live side by side in a sanctuary valley protected by a powerful Artificial Intelligence, and wage unceasing war on the aliens. Some overarching issues do remain unresolved in each book since this is an ongoing series but romance always wins the day in my novels!

Jamokan is the Alpha of one of the packs and feeling frustrated with his role in the rebellion and in the sanctuary valley. In this unedited scene from near the beginning of the novel, he’s asking Aydarr, the ruling Alpha for permission to take his men to the mountains for a hunt.

EXCERPT: Two days later he sat with Aydarr in the other Alpha’s office, drinking Badari herbal tea and discussing a training issue. It was a rare meeting with neither Jill nor Daegan in attendance and Jamokan knew this was his opportunity to make the proposal he’d been mulling over. “There is one more thing,” he said once they agreed on the resolution of the training curriculum.

Eyebrows raised, Aydarr watched him. “Yes? I know you’ve had something weighing on your mind for a while now. I know you too well after all those years of rivalry in the lab. I used to have to watch you like the alien cat in my DNA would stalk small winged prey. I never knew what you’d pull next and I always had to be prepared.”

The Alpha’s tone was complimentary, admiring even and Jamokan was mollified to some extent.  Yes, before Jill came onto the scene there had been strong competition between them and Jamokan won his share of the contests. He stopped himself before wondering for the thousandth time what would have happened if the Khagrish had given Jill to him instead of Aydarr. She isn’t my fated mate, which is the will of the goddess, so we’ll never truly know. “I need to pull my pack together and take the men out of this damn valley for a bit. The pack bond is… fraying.” He searched for the right words. “Not to the point where it would ever break of course.” A flare of dominance prickled through his nerve endings at the mere idea of his pack dissolving. “I wouldn’t permit that. I can hold a pack together. But maybe it’s our special canid mix of DNA – we need to run as a pack. Just us. Take a breather from all this forced togetherness in the valley and undertake a task or mission on our own.”

“I think the Khagrish unfortunately had some sense built into their so-called science,” Aydarr said, unperturbed. “I think all three of our packs needed that time loose in the Preserve which we were given between experiments. To just be ourselves, as much as we could be under the circumstances. To not interact with the other two packs for an extended period.”

Thinking back to the time in the labs, Jamokan said, “I wonder how the Tzibir are faring these days? Collaborating with the Khagrish even to a limited extent seems like a slippery slope to extinction.”

“You hear the same reports I do from MARL,” Aydarr said with a shrug. “Nothing about them on any of the intercepts. As long as the damn lizards aren’t taking the field against us, I have other worries to deal with than a group who chose not to join us. What kind of sortie do you have in mind for your pack? Now isn’t a bad time actually.”

Jamokan had come prepared. “I understand the kitchen is running low on protein stocks, since we added the last group of people. I was thinking the pack and I could go up north, to where the giant horned faleker roam, and do a few weeks of serious hunting. Maybe bag game birds as well. Darik said when he was on his solo mission to the north he saw flocks of thousands of birds on the lakes near the falekers’ habitat. My enforcers and I could design a few simulated maneuvers to run as well, sharpen everyone’s senses. Maybe offer a prize to the winning team or soldier. I have to think through the details, once I know for sure where we’re going.” He tilted his head ever so slightly, knowing he needed to signal his willingness to accept Aydarr’s decision. The other Alpha’s strength pushed against his own and of course Aydarr would win. Jamokan always had to be mindful to steer clear of confrontation with the man, which chafed. In the old days, in captivity, he and Aydarr squared off fairly often. “Assuming you give permission.”

The supreme Alpha lounged in his chair, considering…

******************************************

I hope to get the book finished, edited and released in December….till then feel free to catch up on the rest of the series, if you haven't already! At all major ebook sellers...

WIP Snippet - Book Four Chronicles of the Empire

 This book doesn't have a title yet. It'll be Enemy something or the other. I just haven't gotten to the something or other yet. The story is resisting pulling together and you know how happy that makes me. But. Like Dad has always liked to say, anything worth doing -- no. That's not the one. You know what? He doesn't have a saying for this. I do. Sometime writing is hard. It'll be worth it. Someday. Today's not that day. Tomorrow doesn't look so great, either. 

We're on an alien planet. Bad things are happening. While this is for book four, it the whole 'alien planet, bad things happening, pretty much describes all the openings of the books in my SFR series. Welcome.

 

          Perimeter guards on Anqorre had a distressing tendency to turn up dead, their body parts strewn all over the jungle. When they could be found at all. Since she hadn’t had the good grace to die in her first several firefights, putting her on sentry duty presented the brass with the next best opportunity for getting her killed without having to put a gun to her head themselves.

          Though, to be fair, that was likely next.

          Lightning flashed.

Ildri stopped walking. She glanced at the dark hulk of jungle. Rain swept the tops of the trees flat. The low roar did nothing to mask bone-shaking thunder. The squall had to be the outer bands of the incoming storm.

No one would sleep in the muddy, misery-plagued camp tonight. Good time to head for the supply ship.

          A man’s voice pinged her auditory sensors as if carried on the last rumble of 

thunder. "Godsdammit, I should have gills.”

Snippet from work in progress The Breath Between Stars

This week on SFF Seven, we're offering snippets of whatever we're working on. And as usual, I'm working on a story, and I love it and loathe it at the same time, and I am trying to make it good, but it's not always cooperative. And I hope sort of desperately that someday someone reads it and likes it, but I have no confidence of that ever happening. 

My WIP features a badass semi-retired Mary Poppins in space. It's called The Breath Between Stars, and this is the first of my favorite moments so far.

Hestia didn’t turn. Smoke burled through the recycled air. She had been scanned for weapons before boarding, of course, but she was not unarmed. 

She stilled herself, hands at her sides, weighted skirts brushing the metal deck.

Closing her eyes, she amplified her aural implants, searching for breaths, fingers on weapons, boots on a floor, tumblers being set down, knives unsheathing, any sound that would tell her who among the people in this room were her enemies, and where they sat. She liked to think of it as reading a room. Much like reading a book or reading the stars, assessing the threat in a given space simply took a bit of mental flex.

Blade was still sitting at the back table where she’d left him. The chair springs creaked beneath his fussily clad ass. He was getting to his feet.

The barman clinked a glass. He said nothing, but Hestia was sure he’d ducked behind the long fake-ivory bar for protection. Or maybe to fetch a weapon? Or to send a System alert? She counted off the other pub patrons and covertly accessed the handheld control disc in one pocket of her armored, voluminous skirts, pairing the Damsel’s remote pilot with her gloves.

“All right, if you insist,” she murmured.

With a gloved thumb she drew a shape on the control disc, and three things happened. 

One, her boots magnetized, securing her to the deck plates. 

Two, her adorable peacock-feather fascinator elongated, forming a pressurized, oxygen-filled helm about her coiffed head. 

And three, the station stopped spinning.

Which meant gravity stopped.

Which meant drinks, snacks, expletives, and other far less savory items were flung into the piped-in and pressurized air, messing the cramped space and colliding with all those self-important mercenaries. One of their bitty guns went off, with predictable results. In null gravity, the bullet and the shooter spurted in opposite directions and both with some force, though not enough to injure the shooter. Shouted accusations of clumsiness won out over the mad search for any pricks in the space station’s skin. It was all glorious chaos, if you liked that sort of thing.

As Hestia so did.

“As you can see, Mr. Bly,” she said calmly amid the panic, “my starship has overridden the gravity controls. You may indeed own this module, but you currently have no control over the station core. I do. Open the blast door, or I shall demonstrate the reasons why one should never underestimate a lady with pockets.”

THE SHACKLED SPY: Cover Reveal and Teaser Quote

Dropping in late January, the sixth book in my Immortal Spy series leads Bix and the Berserkers on a scavenger hunt for the pieces of a potent containment device that will remove a millennia-old cosmic moat from outer space, and allow them to finally deploy the new and improved defense system. But, there are things living in the moat that will not go quietly, things that will force Bix to confront the greatest tragedy she's ever suffered and turn her into the Worlds' biggest threat. 

Cover by Gene Mollica Studios

THE SHACKLED SPY

The Immortal Spy: Book 6

From the Book:
Tobek closed the fingers of his prosthesis around the piece of the containment device still held by Bix. His high-tech amalgam of plastic, rubber, and machinery crumbled into dust. He changed hands, cautiously gripping the triangle. The ink of his heavily tattooed arm and torso illuminated through his T-shirt. The green of his pupils lit, and the vibrant blue of his irises followed.

“Let go, Tobek,” Bix quietly urged.

“I’m learning its resonance.” His voice sounded as though it was rising from a deep well. “Cian is correct. You cannot store this in the Mids. It’s more dangerous to all native life than the ether.”

“Well, that’s interesting, because original me scattered the remaining fragments across the Mids.” Bix tugged the panel, but Tobek held fast. 

Drew and Ashtad warily leaned on the table, getting closer to the piece remaining inert in Tobek’s hand even though the Berserker himself was in full-blown woo. Gurp stayed way the hell away from the table, which was odd for the goblin, who prided himself on being a walking forensics lab. He busied himself checking on Cian, which wasn’t odd, come to think of it. People first when it came to Gurp’s great big heart.

“Chief gave us the heads-up that you’re removing the ether so we can push Resen live.” Ashtad got his hand within six inches of the triangle before he snatched it back with a wince. “If Resen was active, we could track the fragments by resonance, but…”

“Anything that’s powerful enough to contain the magic of titans is going to be detrimental to any collective, not just the Mids.” Drew succeeded in touching the triangle but lost half his hand as a result.

↭ 

Be notified when the book is available by joining my New Release Newsletter!