God

The Sublime Nature of Grief

/ Damean Mathews, Author / 1 Comment

Since the loss of my grandmother my life has been full of a lot of conflicting emotions. I’ve dealt with the loss as best I can, trying hard to honor her memory and move forward. One thing that is always painfully obvious when we lose someone close to us is that everyone deals with loss in their own way. What works for one person may not work for another, and one loss may not affect us the same as another. No matter how you handle the situation, sooner or later you will come to a time when you have to not only face the loss, but yourself.

This week I took some time on a particularly hard day and tried to do that. In an attempt to connect with myself, God, nature, and my grandmother I went to a local dam and nature area for some peace and quiet. If you’re unfamiliar with the summer season in the Appalachian mountains, we often have very hot days in the month of August. A number of summer afternoons often see some good thunderstorms or at least a nice passing shower or two. This, of course, can lead to amazingly beautiful foggy conditions. So much so that there is an old wives’ tale my grandmother used to remind me of often; if you count the foggy mornings in August that’s the amount of big snow events you’ll have that winter.

One of my favorite things in life is to find myself in the midst of a heavy fog, pondering the sublime mystery of the shrouded world around me. Is anyone else in the fog? Am I completely and utterly alone? What do the shadowy figures in the thick cloud represent? The feeling of floating in a cloud, the world around me oblivious of my own ideas and presence is marvelous. One of the best moments of my life has been in conditions like this. To say it has a special place in my heart and soul is a definite understatement.

When I arrived at my destination that evening, I had no idea the fantastic occurrence that awaited me. As soon as I rounded a curve in the road and my eyes fell on the river I was greeted with an amazingly thick, ghostly fog floating about a foot above the water. It snaked across the surface of the river like a living, breathing cloud. It rolled and swirled with the breeze, twisting like the spirit of the river itself. After a quick visit to top of the dam, I returned to the riverside and crossed a bridge to an island in the river, an island surrounded by fog.

I found a bench in the midst of this beauty and sat by the riverside, letting the sublime consume me. I communed with nature, God, my grandmother, and myself. I spent probably just under an hour there by the riverside, fog rising and rolling around me, taking photos and trying to find relief from my own strained internal presence. By the time I was ready to leave the fog had risen higher and was rolling over the top of the bridge that was my pathway.

Crossing this bridge, I was able to stand in the middle of the fog and feel the cool moisture settle on my skin. I breathed in the earthy mist and watched the world around me become veiled and reemerge anew over and over as the cloud rolled by. A sense of peace settled on me as this happened, bringing me some relief and allowing me to just enjoy the cool evening. It was a superb experience, and one that I won’t soon forget.

Before the loss of my grandmother, it had been years since I lost someone close to me. I haven’t dealt with loss in a way that other people do, depression and stress affecting me in a serious way. Because of this I feel like being able to express those issues and have experiences like I had this week are very important. If it has taught me anything it is that we all must find what works for us. Avoiding the mourning process and not allowing ourselves to grieve the way we need to is not helpful. It isn’t healthy. One thing that we have to admit and be aware of is that we may sometimes need more time than others to get over a loss. We may need time alone, or time with others, or even a mix. Whatever it is that you need in order to cope, you have to figure it out.

Embrace yourself, the world around you, and whatever helps make you more you. The things that bring you back to feeling like yourself are the things you need to cope with the loss. Don’t allow anyone, especially yourself, keep you from that healing magic. It can truly be life-changing. Honestly, it can be the difference between your own life and death.

Reach out to someone. Never be ashamed of your feelings, your hardships, your needs. Find the relief you need and make sure you are getting enough of whatever it is to help you return to the you you want to be. Accept yourself, accept your loss, but don’t let the grief and mourning consume you. Life can go on, if you find out how to let it. Happiness can return. Even if it’s just one step at a time.

Although I will never truly be over the loss of my grandmother, I now have an idea of what I can do to help me cope when things get tough. I will do what I can to make sure I am allowing myself the proper time and space to be able to let myself, and my grandmother’s memory, continue on.

If you are mourning, grieving, or otherwise in any emotional need, reach out to someone. I’d be more than happy to listen to anything you need. Find your method and make sure you’re returning your soul to its necessary health.

What do you want?

/ Damean Mathews, Author / 3 Comments

Last night I was having a typical scroll through social media when I stumbled upon a question that got me thinking a lot about my work. It was a simple enough post from a publishing group I follow, but it held a weight that I hadn’t let myself feel in quite some time. It asked “what is the biggest goal you want to achieve as a writer?”

You know, typical question people often ask writers, especially ones who are just jumping into the game. Most of the time we have a typical answer to go with it. I want to get my book published. I want to break through writers block. I want to write a bestseller. And, of course, those answers came to me, too. But my brain refused to stop there. As you all know, I love literature. I read almost constantly and have been having a very sordid affair with the greater world catalogue for my entire life. To say the written word is my passion would be a hopeless understatement. It is part of the very fabric of my being, as God meant it to be, and I love every minute of it. So could I really be satisfied with such generic answers to such a pregnant question? Of course not.

The ideas ran faster than ever as I sat down and really thought about it. What do I want out of my writing? What is my biggest and most hopeful goal? Sure, I want that bestseller. I want to have my book sold in local bookstores. I want people I know to see my book and be able to buy my work with memories of me in mind. I want to have unique and interesting books. But it goes so much deeper. After I thought about it the answer flowed easily. I want to be great.

I want people to feel my work. I want it to stand the test of time and change the world. I want to build on the face of literature like the greats of past generations and tear asunder the ideas of stagnance and convenience. I want, in essence, to be truly great. After all, if we cant be great, what’s the point?

This realization, although admittedly daunting, is also immensely liberating. I have, once again, come to terms with my purpose, my desire, the very reason I wake up in the morning. I will stop at nothing to achieve my goals and realize my dreams. They wouldn’t be here if I couldn’t make it happen, right? Right.

So the journey goes on. I’ve entered what I hope to be the final content edit for Maverip before I hit agents with my queries, and I’ve found my second wind. I will make it happen, and I’ll take you all along for the ride.

But now I want to know what you guys think. What does this question mean to you? Let’s not even just limit it to writing. I know some of you are painters, musicians, and artists of various caliber and medium, so apply it to yourself. What is the biggest thing you want from your craft? Is is an idea of greatness? Is it just to overcome that next big project? What are your goals? But more importantly, what are your dreams? Never limit yourself. Let yourself dream. But, I could speak on that for hours. In the meantime, let me know what you think, what you dream. Leave me comments or shoot me messages. And, no matter what comes up, never let your dreams die. Fight for them tooth and nail. I know I am.

Be True

/ Damean Mathews, Author / 2 Comments

It’s January 10, everyone. Have you stuck to your resolutions so far? If so, you’re doing better than a lot of people. Personally I’ve been doing a moderate job of keeping up with some, not so well at keeping up with others. It’s so easy to let life flow without a thought for what you’re doing, following the ‘norm’ and letting yourself fall into a bit of a rut. That’s a bit of what this post is going to be about. I do think it may end up being a two-parter, too, because I’ve seen a lot today that has motivated me to write my little heart out, but the basic message behind every word I’m going to say here is the same. You have to be true to yourself.

Going back to what I was saying at the start of this post, New Year’s Resolutions are notorious for being set on or around January 1st, and many are lucky if they make it out of the month. But I recently saw a very important question that stuck with me and made me think hard. Why is it that New Year’s Resolutions are such a big thing? Why should we focus so much on the beginning of the year – more importantly, why should we only set aside one time throughout the year to make changes? It’s a doozy of a question, and I honestly don’t have an answer for it. We are all (at least in theory) strong, free-willed human beings with the ability to make decisions to better ourselves at any time. So why do we place so much focus on the whole “new year, new me” fad?

I’ve seen people in March decide something about their lives is unsatisfactory and decide to make it a New Year’s Resolution and live with the unhappiness for 9 months rather than take a stand right then and there. Why? This life is so precious, so fleeting, and so important. How can any of us afford to live even one second being untrue to ourselves? You wouldn’t wake up hungry and say “oh, I’ll eat next month.” Or break your arm and say “oh, I’ll get it fixed eventually.” No. You’d stand up and take charge. Why, then, would anyone choose to wait to make themselves better, happier? Why would anyone decide to allow time to choose when they can make a change that may improve their lives infinitely?

We were placed on this earth with a certain amount of time, a certain purpose, and a sure freedom. God gave us the free will to make choices for ourselves – if he didn’t, there would obviously be no sin, because He just wouldn’t allow it to happen. That’s the surest way to know He wants us to choose for ourselves. I’ve often heard the old saying “if you want to hear God laugh, tell Him your plans.” As much as I think the phrase has been misconstrued to mean something else at times, I do agree. God wants us to dream big. He wants us to take the life and the world He has given us and make it bigger and better than ever before.

If you’ve ever needed proof of that, examine the parable Jesus gave his disciples of the three slaves with talents (Matthew 25:14). Of course, there are multiple ways to interpret this, but I take it quite literally. Three slaves were given talents by their master. Two of them used their talents to make more, to create, to better themselves and their situation. When their master returned and asked about the talents, each had doubled what they were given for their master and because of this they were rewarded. But one of the three servants buried his talent where it would never be seen, but never be lost. When his master returned the man could only dig up and return what already belonged to his master, with no return and no use being made of the talent, and thus he was punished.

God has given us all a talent. He has given us all life, love, a desire for something and a way to get what we want. When we put that talent to use in whatever way we can, it will grow. Just like a muscle that is used and worked it will get stronger and bigger, more useful and worthwhile. Soon others will take notice. We can put our talents out  there and have them return to us even bigger. We can take each and every day of this life and inject ourselves, our dreams, our desires and our strengths into it, and when all is said and done, each day will have been bigger and better than the last.

I think that’s what we’re here for. It’s not about New Year’s Resolutions that often fail, leaving us to fall right back into the same routine. Obviously if we’re setting a resolution to change it, some part of us is tired of letting it happen, right? So why wait for a new year? Why wait until the world tells you it’s OK to make a change? Do it now. If you want that haircut, go get it. If you want to lose weight, do it. If you want to publish a book, write it and push it out there. None of us are given a promise that we will wake up tomorrow, or that there will even be a tomorrow. So why wait? Why let the man-made constructs of conformity and waste ruin the time we have left? Get out there and climb that mountain, lift those weights, write that book, go for that management position, travel the world. Will you be like the servant who hid his talent from the world and had nothing to show for it, or will you get out there and make the most of what you’ve been given and make your mark on the world? Be true to yourself, people. We have so little time here. None of us want to be on our death bed and realize we didn’t live to our fullest potential. I challenge each of you, before the week is over, to do something that your heart desires.

Find something that you have been wanting to do that you know will make you happy, break out of a routine that has been holding you back. Make a difference in your own life, and see just how much happier it makes you. It can be something as huge as getting a new car, or something as small as trying a new route to work. But do it. Break free. Find a way to take the life God has given you and truly be thankful for it. Dare to live a little, eh? That’s the end of this post. In the next couple of days I’m going to come back with another similar message regarding things that have been bugging me in this regard – namely suggestions that we have to base our lives on the lives of others.

In the meantime, get out there and showcase your talents. Bring yourself to a new level and take your life in your own hands. In the end, you’ll have something to show for it. Be true to yourselves, guys.

My Grandfather

/ Damean Mathews, Author / 2 Comments

I love Autumn. I love October. Leaves are changing, the spooky nature of the world is being celebrated, the weather is cooling off and nights are growing long. But it’s hard to believe that it has been 13 years since my grandfather passed away.

As happy as the month makes me, October 3 is one of the hardest days of the year for me. October 3 was my grandfather’s birthday. For 13 years I’ve woken up knowing what day it is and knowing that I won’t be able to tell him to enjoy the day, or tell him how much he means to me. My grandfather was the biggest male role model I had growing up. From the time I was a little kid I can remember staying with my grandparents and knowing, if I didn’t wake up as he was leaving (or if he didn’t take me with him) that he would be gone fishing until at least breakfast time – closer to noon if he was having good luck. When he came in and ate he would immediately go outside and spend hours prepping or taking care of his garden, often while I “helped.”

The man wore hats and flannel nearly every day of his life, his white hair often sticking out below the back just a little, protecting the lightest part of his dark skin, the Native American blood in him more obvious than ever at the end of a nice long summer. In the winter he wouldn’t shave, a habit left over from the days he farmed for a living, knowing the best trick to keep the winter wind from biting too much was to keep as much body heat in as possible. I can still remember him teasing me if I got a haircut during the winter months, telling me I’d freeze if I wasn’t careful.

He and my grandmother raised their 3 children on a farm-hand’s wages, moving where the work took them and providing what they could for their kids. Retirement was kinder to him, my grandmother working when he was no longer able. He wasn’t a shirker by any means, working through at least one heart attack without stopping, only finding out he’d had it later on. Even after he stopped working for a living, he farmed and fished nearly every day of his life. Only the most extreme heat or cold could keep him from the water most of the time, and he always produced enough crop to feed most of the family – even just working out of his own backyard.

He saw the world much differently than others, in more ways than one. Being blind in one eye, he had to learn to do everything in his own way, but it never slowed him down. He could fix most things wrong with the family vehicles, could do basic home repair – and he could tie a hook on a fishing line as fast as anyone I’ve ever seen. He also wasn’t much for what he called ‘putting on airs.’ You are who you are, and there’s no reason to hide it. That’s one of many lessons from him I’ll never forget. From the time my grandfather opened his mouth until he closed it he was as real with you as anyone in the world, never pretending to be something he wasn’t. He loved good jokes, and loved to laugh – but he hated nonsense.

I can remember the sound of his laugh even now as I told him my lame jokes, and I remember how quickly that laughter dried up whenever someone turned on a goofy 90’s Jim Carrey movie. If he didn’t like something he made it obvious, and if he didn’t want to be somewhere he left. It was always easy to tell when he didn’t want to be around someone, because he wouldn’t. He wouldn’t be rude to them, but if someone came in a room that he didn’t want to be around he would silently stand and leave. I think he realized that life is too short to waste it doing things that don’t make you happy. Of course, I like to think he had a lot of life’s answers tucked away in his hat somewhere, so maybe I’m putting a philosophical spin where one wasn’t intended.

I could write about my memories of him and tell stories of how, as I got older, my grandfather would talk on the phone with me for hours sometimes, even though we just lived across town from each other – but when we went fishing together the talking was minimal and hushed, so as not to scare the fish away.Of his grandchildren I think I was the only one that had the connection with him I did. We had our understandings and we liked many of the same things. We could sit in a room together for hours without uttering a word and could say all we needed to say in a moment.

I could tell any number of stories of how he was so selfless that he often went without in his own ways, wearing his clothes until they were threadbare and falling apart before he would worry about trying to buy a replacement. I live for hours in these memories sometimes, wishing for just one more day, one more hour to talk to him. Granted, I understand he wasn’t perfect. He smoked, he drank, he ate food that clogged his arteries and he lived life in an antiquated fashion. He was very much a product of his generation. But I think I would be the only one who would get the full effect of all of these stories and memories.

My grandfather would have been 76 years old today. So much has changed over the last 13 years. The world is nothing like it was when he left it. Technology has taken over, racism has become breaking news again, and everywhere we look there is a fear of bombs falling. I know none of these things would have changed him, though. He wouldn’t own a cellphone, and he certainly wouldn’t pay attention to things like vegan diets and low-carb foods. If there was ever a constant in my life, it would still be Calbert Mathews. He would get up at the crack of dawn and make coffee, watch a few minutes of the local news (I’d love to hear his opinion on his favorite weatherman retiring) and would hit the river bank or lakeside. Like clockwork he’d spend his afternoons weeding, tending the garden and resting on the porch until a little after sunset. I miss knowing that if I wanted to find him, there were usually only half a dozen places I’d have to look.

I often wonder, though, what he would think of me. He wasn’t one to talk about the future much, so I can’t be sure what he had in mind for me as I grew up. I chose a very different path than he did as I went on in life, picking books over farming equipment and writing over being a full time farmer. He always encouraged me in my reading, though. He maintained an interest in my grades and never seemed to mind if I did want to pick up a novel instead of weed the garden or fish. I had not made the decision to be a writer before his death, though. I would definitely like to have gotten his opinion on that. I wish I would have been able to see his face at my high school and college graduations- although I’m sure he would have ducked out and avoided the crowd after seeing me walk across the stage for each one. I wish I could have been able to hear his reaction when I told him I got my first post-college job or hear his frustrations that his house was just outside of the delivery range of the newspaper I worked at later on.

I’d give nearly anything to be able to pick up the phone and tell him that I still look up to him to this day. That his hard-working nature rubbed off on me, whether it is in a different field or not. That I strive to be myself as openly as possible and that I don’t ‘put on airs’ to make people think I’m someone I’m not. I like to think that he would be proud of the man I’ve become, the way I’ve handled myself and my life through thick and thin. I know one day I’ll see him in Heaven, and I look forward to seeing what he has to say about everything we never got to talk about. Until then, I have my memories, I have my mementos, and I have the strong will and morals that he provided me with – whether he knew it or not.

Happy birthday, Papaw. I love you and I miss you every day. I’ll see you again on God’s great golden shore and we’ll go fishing, or maybe just take a walk and catch up. It will be a glad reunion day.

How Did I Get Here?

/ Damean Mathews, Author / 6 Comments

One of the things that I have been asked multiple times on my (albeit short) journey as an author is “How did you become interested in writing” or “What inspired you to be a writer”. Now I’ve answered the question a few ways, always trying to keep the answer short and sweet for those who don’t want to hear my whole life story, but I think a good way to help me relate to everyone would be to share a larger bit of the story here. I hope that once you all read it you’ll be inspired to share your stories with me in the comments or through a message so I can know you all better as well.

I barely remember a time when reading and literature weren’t a huge part of my life. I’m actually not sure that was ever the case. I basically was born with a book in my hand. From the time I was old enough to string the letters together in my head and make words out of them I’ve read anything I could get my hands on. I can remember some of the books I had as a child (that I am extremely angry I lost somewhere in the haze that is “growing up”) and the fact that I always had people supporting me in my love of the written word. So much so that I  was reading Stephen King’s “IT” in the third grade, reading on a college level before even nearing puberty. This is very easily something I thank my mother for. She encouraged me in my reading and bought me just about any book I wanted- granted, she wasn’t all that happy that I was a King addict at such a young age, I was a very insistent young man. I can easily say that, without her encouragement, I wouldn’t be the writer I am today.

That’s not to say that I don’t feel God had a hand in my talent and skill, because I do. I do think that, had my mother not played her part and encouraged me to read, that my journey to being an author would have been much more difficult. But from the time I could read well I did it with a passion. This eventually lead me to writing down little short stories and trying to make up characters. I remember at one point that I actually attempted to not only write out a (slightly altered) version of one of my favorite movies but I tried to write a sequel to one of my favorite Stephen King stories. This, of course, was the true beginning of my writing career.

Before too long I was ecstatic to say that I had my first moderately original ideas (although now I would be hard pressed to remember all that much about them) and went into high school with a couple of extra notebooks in my backpack. My first lesson in maintaining my writing in a strong and durable form came when, after a few days of particularly grueling homework that kept me from writing, I pulled out my notebook to find that the pages had rubbed together so much they had literally worn my words into a greasy black mess. My first rookie mistake; I had tried to write a story with a pencil.

I quickly learned how big of a mistake that was and moved on to a pen. I wrote all of my material out by hand because at that time I didn’t really have a computer or a working knowledge of Microsoft Word that would allow me to do anything different. As life went on I kept reading, but eventually the story ideas that had begun fizzled into nothing. This would likely be due to a combination of things, the passing of my grandfather for one, that lead to a bit of a difficult time in my young adult life. I dealt with my issues in my own ways and this lead me down a new path as well, pushing me more in the arms of the books I loved and giving me ideas of travelling all over the world.

As for my writing, I remember the day that things changed for me. I was dealing with a dark day in my life when my brain was suddenly filled with the idea for a novel. I felt the plot run through my mind; the highs, the lows, the whys, the climax and the facts that would bring most of it together. I was somewhat astounded. Without much hesitation I grabbed a notebook from my room and began to write what I knew, outlining parts of the story I had seen and writing the prologue that seemed so vivid it was like I was living it. As I finished the last line in that portion of this new story idea, I realized without a single doubt that this was my purpose. This was what I wanted. I decided on that day that I wanted nothing more out of life than to be a professional author.

This was around the beginning of my junior year of high school, if memory serves. I worked on that novel and developed the story, only letting one or two people know anything about the piece itself, finding the ideas for other stories and novels flickering through my head at the slightest whim, some of them insisting that I drop everything and write them immediately. It was the following Summer that I got the idea for my most loved project (Maverip) and began going down that long road as well- but that is a story for another time.

My life was seriously changed on that day almost ten years ago, and I couldn’t be happier with that. I know now without a doubt that writing is exactly what I was made for. I fully believe that it is God’s purpose for me just as I believe that writing literally saved my life. I have since seen my work published nearly a dozen times in various journals and have even self published some of those works in the form of a short story and poetry collection that is available on Amazon.

The journey to where I am today has been a bit of a long one, and has certainly seen its bumps. I’ve asked myself many times over the years if I was just wasting my time, if my work was good enough, if anybody would ever care what I have to say. This is a bit discouraging at times, but for the most part it is said that every true author goes through that. Everyone, at some point, is going to feel the worry that something is wrong, that they are wasting their time. The difference in success and failure, however, is picking yourself up and going on no matter how hard it seems.

So that’s a part of my journey (I could write for days on my experiences and why I keep going, but I won’t subject you all to that just yet). I hope you all enjoyed it, and I hope you’ll share yours as well. Keep your eyes on the prize and don’t give up, no matter how hard things get, folks. Until next time.

Setting Goals

/ Damean Mathews, Author / Leave a comment

It’s officially two weeks into the new year and I think we’re all getting into the swing of things pretty well. 2015 was a pretty good year that saw a lot of changes and developments for a lot of us. Personally I found myself graduating college again, teaching a workshop and signing books alongside an internationally bestselling author, writing a fair amount of short stories, blogging on multiple sites, getting a job that allows me to use my skill set,  getting to meet a few of you guys. That alone was enough to make the hardships of the year well worth it.

One of my other biggest accomplishments of the year was that I finally managed to complete NaNoWriMo. That’s an experience I haven’t gotten to talk about yet, also. Before I do, though; For those of you that don’t know NaNoWriMo is a challenge for writers where you are pushed to complete a 50,000 word novel during the 30 days of November. Believe me, it isn’t easy.

This was my third or fourth year attempting NaNo and in the past I’ve always found myself getting so far along (one year it was around 10,000 and another it was closer to 20, etc…) before college and life bogged me down and pushed me in other directions, but this year I not only succeeding in reaching the goal but I exceeded it by over 18,000 words in a period of 20 days. By November 20 I had a 68,900 word novel in my possession and it felt amazing. It still does. I’m currently running the novel through beta readers so I can put it through the second round of editing and am in talks with two separate publishers about pricing and options and what not.

It’s a good feeling, that’s for sure, but the point of this blog is to talk about the new year, right? No matter how good (or bad, if that’s the case) 2015 was, this year can and will be one for the books! My personal plans for the year are to try as hard as I can to get at least one of my novels to a publisher and try to get it to shelves and not just in an electronic format. Another goal is to try (and hopefully succeed) to get my work published in at least 12 periodicals this year. I have more, of course, like getting back into church and refreshing my relationship with God for myself and my family, but those two are relevant to writing.

Now, obviously these things on my list are New Year’s Resolutions (yes, I’ve made it two whole weeks and I’m still trying!) and that’s a bit of a controversial topic. A lot of people think that making resolutions is a waste of time, some even say that it is a direct challenge to true happiness with one’s life. Their argument for this, of course, is that by making resolutions and pushing yourself to change your life in a certain way, it prevents you from being who you truly are. Silly, right? The point of resolutions is to be a better you, a you that you are happier with. So why not try it? Of course, I’ve also failed at resolutions like everyone else, but this year it feels different. This year I’ve made a list of goals that, if I don’t give up on, will make me a stronger, better, happier me.

So what about you all? Have you decided to make this year better? Have you worked on a list of goals that will improve your life? One thing that I intend on doing this year, with this and my other blogs, is to improve the quality and quantity of the posts I am giving you all. I would like to inspire each and every one of you to go out there and take life by the horns this year, so I want to hear more about what you all want from the blog itself and from me as a writer. How can I be better at this and make more of a difference? No answer is a wrong answer, so give me all you’ve got! Have a great weekend and make those goals, stick to them and change 2016 for the better!