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Showing posts with label dream. Show all posts
Showing posts with label dream. Show all posts

Friday, January 1, 2016

Peggy and the Snowy Night

Peggy and the Snowy Night


Peggy woke up on a cold wintery night.
It was snowing outside and it wasn’t yet light.
As she looked out the window to see the new snow,
She spied creatures out standing right there in a row.

Each stood straight and neat by the street on one leg.
With a bright shiny head that looked just like an egg.
They stood there in line by the light of the moon,
But Peggy just knew they might march away soon.

And where once were bushes there only were lumps
That curled up like kittens (except they were bumps).
Snug under white bed sheets, all comfy and cozy,
They’ll sleep until sunlight peeps out orange and rosy.

Now, Peggy could see that they needed some heat
Like her little Kitty that slept at her feet.
Soon they would be purring and stretching their legs
While mother stood cooking and scrambling some eggs.

And out where the car had been parked in the drive
Our Peggy could see a big monster alive.
The shadows were dark in the place where it sat
It must be a dragon, all shiny and fat.

With jewels on its shoulders and chrome on its nose,
Her dragon would wander wherever it chose.
If she could just wait without doing her chores,
She’d see it belch smoke and hear how it roars.

With so much new snow out, there’d be no school bus,
And Peggy could play out — No trouble or fuss.
If everything happened according to plan,
She’d make some snow angels and build a snow man.

Soon mother will call her to drink some warm milk
With sweet yummy chocolate that tastes just like silk.
With imagination her life is such fun
although her new world will soon melt in the sun.


But, always by dreaming new things that can be
Young Peggy can create the things she can see.
And all the wide world, even more than she knew,
Will open up to her before she is through.

David Satterlee

Monday, December 28, 2015

A New Story for America

A New Story for America

Some stories that we tell about ourselves are constructive. Of course, we should want to be “the land of the free and home of the brave.” On the other hand, ideas such as defending “the American way of life” may be destructive. Huh? What was that?

This old American way of life has involved the belief that “we’re the best.” Although it is a practical impossibility, you can still hear it at every team rally. It involved the belief that everyone is special so that every child in a group had to receive an award for something. It involved the belief that “we deserve the best” just because we are us. We spent decades being urged to put anything we wanted on credit; America was going to spend its way into prosperity. And then the bubble burst.

Tuesday, July 2, 2013

Essay: Psychic travels in my otherwhere

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Psychic travels in my otherwhere

From the book: Chum for Thought: Throwing Ideas into Dangerous Waters by David Satterlee

Find out more, including where to buy books and ebooks

Read or download this essay as a PDF file at: https://docs.google.com/file/d/0B4eNv8KtePyKNmtVdWRmdHRaNDg/edit?usp=sharing

Chum For Thought:
Throwing Ideas into Dangerous Waters


Psychic travels in my otherwhere


I have always enjoyed hiking, usually alone, in the woods. Twice now, when I had the chance, I have moved to the mountains of Western North Carolina. My wife and I purchased our present home because it was isolated and out of view of other houses. We cherish our “hole in the woods.” I could walk out the back door and follow paths, or just my nose, for miles. These woods are my comfort and respite from the anxiety, noise, and stress of living in cities.

Years ago, while searching for peace, I read a recommendation to create a detailed, imaginary, inner place of quiet refuge. Sitting down with a sketch pad, I developed a plan. It was filled with resources that I could only imagine. It has been my private safe place now for many years. It is always ready and available, but has to be approached methodically. I have never taken anyone there with me.

I am walking, slightly uphill, along a path. It may be in the rolling hills of Kentucky along the Appalachian Trail. It is late spring but the morning air is still tart. The trail is well-trodden and about 4 feet wide. There is enough room for two people to pass without crowding or having to pause to acknowledge the other. The path is densely lined so that no horizon is visible past this tunnel through the trees. Last season’s leaves still mulch the way, sliding gracefully ahead to an infinite destination. 

Every footstep is muted, the birds are hushed, no breeze disturbs the cathedral trees. Every step is comfortable and smooth. My small daypack seems weightless. The resolute scent of wild mint lifts the feet, the heart, and the spirit. A small squirrel watches from four paces off the way and is

Networking: Section 5 - Getting it Done - Part 2


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Section 5 - Getting it Done - Part 2

From the book: Building Your Network Business: Proven Ideas from Successful Leaders by David Satterlee

Find out more, including where to buy books and ebooks

Read or download this essay as a PDF file at: https://docs.google.com/file/d/0B4eNv8KtePyKTU8yQmYtbkRXOGc/edit?usp=sharing

  • Dare to dream
  • Set outrageous goals
  • Preparation + Opportunity = Advancement 
  • Keep on keeping on
  • Doing the right thing before
  • Fixing mistakes
  • Doing the right thing after 

Poem: Pogo Had it Right

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Pogo Had it Right

Life Will Get You in the End:
Short Stories by David Satterlee

from the book: Life Will Get You in the End:
Short stories by David Satterlee

Find out more, including where to buy books and ebooks

Read or download this story as a PDF file at:  https://docs.google.com/file/d/0B4eNv8KtePyKUjBtRWptWFVWaFU/edit?usp=sharing

This is an allusion to (or, at least, what should be) an iconic story in mythology about men doing battle with themselves. 

Pogo was a cartoon character created by Walt Kelly. Among many other wise and witty things, he said, "We have met the enemy and he is us." There, that should get you started. 

Pogo Had it Right

I enter the plains to do battle.
I gird up my loins for the fight.
I turn to my bearer for armor.
My helper is nowhere in sight.

In panic I fumble to unsheath my sword.
Striking blindly, I render the air.
I search for the foe that I might dispatch.
But, I’m really the only one there.

In confusion, I retreat from this threat with alarm—
Begging my mind to admit this a dream
Of the night before more than just here and now
In this day, as it truly does seem.

I turn again to check the field
And find it not clear as before,
As I am there to face myself;
A foe that I cannot ignore.
We fought for years to find out who
Was good and who was bad.
But, when at last I won, I lost
The horrible dreams that I’ve had.

But, who can say that I had won,
And who can name the foe?
Yes, who of you can read my heart,
And of its ways to know?
                            December 7, 1970
 

Re: the 2nd stanza: Bingo. I just made a note to someday write a SciFi story about two friends in a remote battle control room discovering that the field-droid avatars that they are controlling are actually fighting each other. "Oops, 'sorry dude." Remember, you read the surprise ending here first.

Monday, July 1, 2013

Story: Sample Time

Information and comments on the story:

Sample Time

from the book: Life Will Get You in the End:
Short stories by David Satterlee

Find out more, including where to buy books and ebooks

Read or download this story as a PDF file at: https://docs.google.com/file/d/0B4eNv8KtePyKMXFMS3JNdDNGaDA/edit?usp=sharing



Read by the author:


Life Will Get You in the End:
Short Stories by David Satterlee

A retired engineer just can't escape the frustration he feels with the casual imprecision of his former supervisors and his current nurse. Writing the story resolved my actual recurring dream.

Sample Time

The miserable old man lay in his hospital bed, staring at the clock on the wall. The nurse had just left after waking him from a vivid dream to take a sample of his blood. They were probably checking to see if he still had elevated amylase and lipase enzymes in his blood; indicating pancreatitis. “Hell,” he mused, his stomach was still distended; anyone could see that. “Hell,” he mused, “if the disease doesn’t kill me, all this bloodletting will.”


He hated that dream. It haunted him from before he retired; before his wife had died; before he started drinking. Always, he was railing against an illogical way of doing things at the gasoline refinery where he used to work. Sometimes he was complaining to other engineers; occasionally to supervisors, managers, or even the working stiffs whose only concern was to follow orders. Always, nobody seemed to think that his issues were important enough to worry about, to say nothing of making the major changes for which he lobbied. It was the way that things had been done for years. It had become codified into operational software and work habits. Nobody seemed to care—nobody had ever cared except that noble champion of what was right and true that he used to be; this impotent, disillusioned, and very desolate old man that he was now.


In his dream, the engineer, still an earnest, idealistic, and fastidiously through young man, is speaking: “I have reviewed our new plant-wide data acquisition and reporting system. It has several design flaws, related to