Böcker av Denes McIntosh

A Story About Choices. A Story About Change.We all have our own private Nazareth of one kind or another; a time or place in our lives when we find ourselves to be stuck, conditioned to a certain way of thinking, being, believing; painted in a corner, unable to extricate ourselves from ourselves, or from the people and circumstances intent on dragging us down, capturing our spirit, and robbing us of the freedom to live full, productive, and satisfying lives. A very personal glimpse into a collapsing relationship; its patterns, its flaws, its failures, and its strengths.

Rafael is a man who lost his wife to cancer, followed by a sudden and unexpected second tragedy, completely unforeseen, unbearable and beyond his own control. The combination of these two events broke Rafael down to the very depths of his soul, left him with little hope for any kind of enduring happiness, and without much solid ground to stand on. Leaving his family home in Sonoma, and life as he knew it up until then, he moved out into the wilderness of the Sierra Nevada mountains, just outside of Georgetown, CA, built a tepee, and lived in semi-seclusion while navigating his way through his own terrible grief. His is a very personal story, told through both his hand-written journals, and the thoughts and recollections of his surviving son; two different people with independent, but intersecting, perspectives. It is about loss, yes. And it is about grief. But it is also about reconciliation with one's self, and redemption from one's inner turmoil. It is about a man and his companion dog, Chica; a dog who gave him purpose through his depression, and renewed appreciation for his life, as fractured as it had become. It is about the strength of family and friends. It is about the struggle for the preservation of faith, and character. It is about the love one man has for his family, and the love a son has always had for his father.

As a young boy I lived in a neighborhood surrounded by wild mustard weeds. In the spring and summer I spent hours building tunnels and forts in the fields with my brothers and friends. A sense of freedom that was anathema to the tension I lived with in the house. A magic land left to the imaginations, and the machinations of the children. No adults allowed. No one coming around to dictate rules, create boundaries, or impose unreasonable expectations. We wound the tunnels around for, what seemed like, miles. We moved on hands and knees, making hide and seek a silent, mysterious, and very solitary game. A maze of trails through the weeds that ended up wherever we did. It was a place where I was free, making my own decisions, and exercising my innate sense of the sublime. It was a time lost in play, and in total disregard of authority. We'd fly kites in the fields, lying on our backs in the cool mustard weed, a yellow and green blanket stretching from one side of the world to the other, like our dreams did. The dreams that one day would be crushed like those same fields were when bulldozers would eventually arrive. We'd let the wind take the kites to the end of their string. Higher than they'd been before. Ever. As far as they could reach. Where no kite had ever been allowed to go. And then sometimes we'd release them, just cut the string and watch them disappear. I was that kite. In childhood. And in many years beyond.

This is a collection of modest observations, frivolous musings, serious thought, and personal experience.I am not an intellectual, but I do think about things. I think about people, nature, and politics. I think about cultural trends, and belief systems. I think about human nature. I think about good and evil, and I think about God. I think about the future. I think about the past, and how it relates to, and influences, the future. I think about life and death. I think about my own life, how it affects, and is affected by, the people, and the world, around me.These pieces were written between May, 2007, and January, 2013. My reasoning is fluid, and not written in stone. But it is meant to challenge belief systems, and inspire critical thinking. If it serves that purpose, I am satisfied. To facilitate ease of finding individual titles they are presented here in alphabetical, rather than chronological order. I have not intended for this collection to be read as one would read a novel, but, rather, in small portions to allow time to digest the rationale, to let it settle, and to allow your internal response to be whatever emerges from that process.Read the entries in the order in which they appear if you like, or pick and choose them at random. It doesn%u2019t really matter.What does matter is that you not embrace, or reject, the entirety of the work based solely on your agreement, or disagreement, with a few of the entries. Although it is what our culture tends to encourage these days, it would, ultimately, be a disservice to both of us. A selection from the book:"If I had only one day left to live I%u2019d probably take a quiet walk in the woods, below the snow line, but above the timberline. I%u2019d follow an old path along a living creek as it made its way over rich earth, across ancient ground, through granite rock, spilling softly out into a generous meadow; a missing piece of heaven, standing still, glistening in the ear

A collection of poetry infused with the authors¿ acute powers of observation and his accumulated understanding of human nature, and the human experience. These are poems about the inner soul of man, his natural surroundings, his struggles with love and identity, sexuality, and relationship. The book includes chapters entitled, ¿Illuminating the Obvious¿, ¿Love and Other Illusions¿, ¿Faces in the Fog¿, ¿Lives and Innuendö, ¿Sexual Ideations¿, ¿Shapes and Shadows¿, and ¿Mental Indiscretions¿. The poems are a look at, and accounting of, life as it is lived with an honesty of intention, with its social proclivities and confusing ambiguity; life lived, for the most part, out from under the fear of unintended consequences. A book for those given to self-reflection, and for those finally willing to move in that direction.

"The first time I read 'Wilderness' I kept reading because I couldn't wait to see what happens with the characters. The second time I read it for the sheer pleasure of the writing. Anybody reading it once is definitely going to want to read it again.""The gradual regeneration of the human spirit following the brutality of the 'incident' renewed my faith in others, and in myself.""Poetic, prosaic, insightful, getting to the heart of the human condition." "Harlen McCoy had me at 'raking the invisible leaves', and kept me with 'wanting to hire a Judge Judy impersonator from Craigslist to come over and take a bath'.""'Kevin wore the same kind of shirt every day of his life, but with different colored sleeves'? We need more Kevins." "A story of faith, not prescription, or formula faith, but the kind that enables love to find a willing host." "The women in this novel are women I want to get to know. The men are the friends I wish I had.""Your description of Pastor Blauer is an Edward Hopper painting in words ('He's about 5'6" tall, with a cheap haircut, and usually wearing a powder blue suit. Sometimes he wears a brown polyester suit, kind of shiny from age. Makes him look upholstered, like an old hide-a-bed, or a couch you might keep out in the carport')." "I like that David watches Tom and Tracy Morgan through their window in the evening from his rooftop. I like that Tom sits on his couch naked. And I like that he doesn't care who's watching. If I were a character in the book I'd be Tom Morgan." "Made me look at my own wilderness.""Sexy and romantic. I wish Gina would dangle her hush-puppy in my café.""Stimulated more discussion with my husband than any book we've ever read together."