Sunday, February 27, 2011


Ice hit the side of his glass breaking the silence. He was a scotch man. The smooth liquid poison was the only thing that could numb the pain of her bite. It was like a slow moving venom running through his body, his soul, his dreams, his thoughts... Collin didn’t know what day it was. It was dark outside. Other than that all he knew was it was another night without her. He’d fucked up, plain and simple, and like so many men who let themselves get swallowed up by the phenomenon of an amazing woman, Collin had no idea what to do. He dimmed the lights, put on some Clapton, filled his glass again and stared out into the distance; knowing she was out there, wondering where and not knowing what to do. 2011 awgryphon©

Wednesday, February 23, 2011


A statue, they thought; a myth, a fairy tale. Under constant attack, with wounds penetrating not only the heart, but the soul, and still, just a statue they thought. CUPID PART ONE: CUPID CONTINUED ©awgryphon

Sunday, February 20, 2011


Bridget slipped a wild flower into her hair. The soft blue and yellow of the petals were a lovely compliment to her wispy blonde locks. She looked out into the distance. The sky was heavy, but the storm had passed. There would be another, but Bridget understood that that was where she lived now and she welcomed it. Change is good and storms, in Bridget’s experience, tended to clear the way for new and more vibrant landscapes. Life had never been more beautiful. The wind reared up and the fog rolled up from the sea while Bridget stood gazing out the window, looking out on the cliffs, on her life and on her future. She smiled. Bridget was excited. At peace and fulfilled. She had found that place within herself. That place you find yourself standing when you know you’re whole. When you fully understand who you are. When you are living in that extraordinary feeling of being all of who you are; not because of anyone else or because of anything in particular that’s happened, but because you’ve finally arrived at the place in life you never fathomed existed until you were in it. That in and of itself was the most extraordinary gift. The fact that within that state of being Bridget had encountered a man in the same place still seemed unreal to her. She turned to the mirror. Her dress, satin slippers, the flower she’d picked from the walkway and slipped into her hair... None of it was what she had ever imagined for herself and that made sense to her. This wasn’t a state that someone would imagine. Not her. Not anyone. It was much too simple to think of, it just simply was. The beauty radiating from what happiness truly is was in her reflection and that was all that Bridget saw. She was in just the right place with just the right person at just the right time. Bridget stepped outside into the soft wind, the reaching sun and the ponderous sky. She felt like she was floating as she walked out toward the edge of the cliffs. The world was endless for her; massive and welcoming, like an old friend. Michael watched Bridget walk toward him. The state of his heart and being mirrored hers. They were both in their own completely and at the same time alive as one. They were enamored by each other and seamlessly comfortable in their own skin, in what they shared and in what they would share for the years to come. A man stood to marry them. They were three and three alone. The man’s eyes blessed Bridget and Michael with wisdom and understanding. He could see the future of the union, what it would mean to their lives and to the lives they created and inspired. It was with that knowing that the man agreed to join them and then thanked them for inviting him to do so. What Bridget and Michael had was a love undefined. Full of passion and desire, fearlessness and hope, adventure and commitment. Bridget took her place next to Michael. He gently laid his hand on her waist, her fingers met his and their lips touched in their beginning of forever. A sea spray shot up over the cliffs, the clouds moved in squeezing the sun’s light and it began to rain. Bridget and Michael stayed lost in their embrace as the wind surrounded them, taking with it the wild flower from Bridget’s hair, sweeping it out into the world and taking it out into what would be… © photograph by Allen Henderson. Running Into The Rain awgryphon © All RIghts Reserved

Tuesday, February 15, 2011


NOTE TO THE READER: The story began with Alexandra. I then introduced Talia and Ember. In this installment, The Beginning (The Introduction of Ronan & Anastasia) their connection will be revealed and the story will continue. If you have not read Alexandra, Talia and Ember I encourage you to have a look. The links are below… and this is only the beginning…

THE BEGINNING (THE INTRODUCTION OF RONAN & ANASTASIA) A rumble from the distance traveled across the water as if it was calling to the fire, the wind and the sea. Far beneath the mainland, the earth was pulling apart at its core. The rupture of self-infliction spread and a tsunami formed, upending the sea like a mother rising to protect her children. Supported by a savage wind and carrying a river of lava on its path, the monstrous wave launched everything above water into flames. As the plates of the earth continued to break open violence erupted. Ronan was ripped in all directions, dislocating every piece of her body and turning the components which defined her into a fleeting sand. Water rushed over the earth fusing the dust of her spirit together. Fire burned through making the elements of her construct whole again. The wind cooled Ronan’s components, returning her physical elements to whom she had been so many years before; when the earth absorbed her, trapping her in an eternal suspension of disjointed earth and minerals, a prison she was never meant to escape. All of the remnants of Ronan settled at the earth’s surface. Her essence was dormant, but her being was whole. Drops of water hit her gently as the warmth of a fire surrounded Ronan and the wind softly circled. The three elements, Alexandra, Talia and Ember, were reforming their sister from the abandoned earth where she slept. Ronan was the most volatile of the sisters and also the most powerful. She had the ability to act as a conduit for and to enhance each of them, but there was no balance more delicate than that which made up Ronan. In her creation, Ronan had been formed from a single rose petal in the midst of a quake that created the earth as we know it. Nothing more delicate or beautiful had ever existed. The purpose of her essence was to embody the earth, and she did. There was no creature known to the universe more powerful or more fluid and unstable. Ronan not only embodied the earth, she was affected by its changes making her more powerful than the gods and as vulnerable as earth’s life. The minerals gathered to fuel Ronan’s life source, a slight glimmer shone and her delicate reconstruction began like the slowed process of spinning glass. Unstable. Tentative. Fragile. As the elements continued to swirl, Ronan continued to grow then in a hush, the earth became still. More still than any life could fathom. The scent of roses consumed the planet. And ever so gently, Ronan’s eyes opened, shining emerald green though the delicate rose petals that were her essence. The sisters had returned. They were again together to finish what they had begun and what they had been banished for so many lifetimes before. Together, they stood in their power, in their bliss, only lacking one element that would fuse them together again as four parts to one whole. The missing ingredient was faith and it was not something they could conjure themselves. Someone had to believe in them. Just one person. It didn’t matter who. It only needed to be a human rather than a god. Someone who wasn’t afraid. Someone who not only knew, but in their heart believed it was all real. Real enough to place the faith of their own life into the hands of the elements. The sisters waited while for miles around the earth’s inhabitants accepted their confusion and stood in awe. Something was happening. No one knew what. No one except for a lone eighteen-year-old girl. She’d felt the change as it happened. She stood on the edge of a cliff over looking the sea, extended her arms and let the wind, the earth, the water and the warmth of the fire hold her safe by her faith in them. She believed. And in her moment of realization, of understanding what had arrived, the sisters fused together and they knew they were again one. “Why does she believe?” Alexandra asked her sisters. “How does this girl know we even exist?” “Some people know things.” Ember said. “They have intuition and they are not afraid to trust it.” “Perhaps that’s it. Perhaps she felt us.” Ronan said turning to Talia. Knowing that wasn’t the case at all. The sisters shared a long, drawn out silence as Ronan’s eyes focused in on Talia. Waiting. “I told her.” Talia finally said. It was a shock to the sisters, but not at all a surprise. Certainly not to Ronan. “What’s her name?” Ronan asked. “Anastasia.” Talia said. “Her name is Anastasia and she knows everything about us. Everything since the beginning.”

awgryphon© All Rights Reserved

Monday, February 14, 2011


The heat rose, relieving the stiffness that had held Ember captive for so long. The rock that she’d become began to crack and soften, and the chemicals igniting the heat stirred her consciousness like a drug. Lava flowed and temperatures increased as the intensity of the water and the ferociousness of the wind attacked the volcanic rock, feeding it, helping it form, stirring its growth. Ember found herself floating. It was a sensation she had a vague memory of. She basked in the comforting state, assuming it was merely dream. And then, in an instant, a flame wrapped in a brilliant entanglement of orange and purple shot up into the sky, and burst out across the horizon. Ember was catapulted back into her fiery skin as if no time had passed. Burning flared around her. A swirl of fuel and oxygen bombarded the sky. The flashpoint of her release was visible for miles, drawing the world’s attention to the volcano that had been Ember’s grave as it shot up from beneath the sea. The water was both violent and comforting, surrounding her while the wind funneled barriers and framed the energy of the fire storm that was Ember in her purest incarnation. From the depths of a deserted grave, Ember had returned.

awgryphon© photograph courtesy of

Sunday, February 13, 2011


It was a typical Saturday morning. I slept a little later than usual, hit a pilates class after a nice home cooked breakfast and a leisurely cup of coffee then I headed off to the hair salon. That’s where the typical part of my day ended. There is nothing typical about the Saturday before Valentine’s Day at a hair salon. Not at any hair salon. Not anywhere on the planet. It was The Day. The last day to get all dolled up for that spectacular someone who would make Monday, February 14th absolutely fabulous. And there I was, single. I hadn’t really thought about the repercussions making an appointment on such a day would bring. I needed a haircut and who doesn’t I love the salon for a latte and some good girl-to-girl chitchat. It’s one of the few no-holds-bar places still in existence where you can sit with foil on your head, wax on your brows, and talk about anything and everything with people you do know and people you don’t. And the best part is you get honest feedback. Forget Vegas. What happens at the salon stays at the salon and more often than not it helps. Those of you who know this, know. Those of you who don’t, ask anyone who takes part in the salon ritual. They will tell you. I know of what I speak. Now on to the matter at hand, the question on everyone’s lips this morning was, “What are you doing for Valentine’s Day?” I didn’t partake, not while I was waiting anyway. Then my butt hit the chair, the wizard pulled out the magical scissors that make me beautiful, and she asked. Already knowing the answer, she asked. I knew she would. I was prepared. I do love Valentine’s Day, but I’m a single woman and this particular holiday takes two or so I believed until my late morning, eye-opening education in the heart of Beverly Hills. The wizard with the scissors nodded her head as I told her my woes, then proceeded to tell me of a Valentine’s Day which she’d spent alone; and on which she’d treated herself to absolutely anything and everything that made her happy. What a concept. I wouldn’t be in love with a man for Valentine’s Day, but I had just been introduced to an idea that made me smile from the inside out. When the wizard spoke it truly was love at first listen. Be your own Valentine. It’s genius. You can’t go wrong. And again, as mentioned in the title, this is not just a concept for the ladies. Everyone can be their own Valentine. It’s actually the perfect solution. No negotiation. No compromise. You can have a fantastic meal at the place of your choosing. You can dress to the nines and hit the town or have lobster in bed while watching your favorite movie… or a pizza... or a deep fried Twinkie. You can buy yourself the perfect gift and your favorite flowers. Chocolates. Delicacies. Only the best of whatever it is. Only exactly what you want. Remember that perfect card you saw and didn’t buy because you thought you had no one to give it to? Go get it and send it to yourself. If you want to buy a tiny, little lacey something because it makes you feel sexy, then get it. Make a mixed CD of every song that you love and loves you back. If you want to dance, salsa in the kitchen or through the park. It’s all about you and what you want so take everything you’ve ever loved and love it all day long. Take V-Day and make it yours. What was it that the ever so brilliant Carrie Bradshaw said, “The most exciting, challenging and significant relationship of all is the one you have with yourself. And if you can find someone to love the you you love, well, that's just fabulous.” Yes! Sex And The City was a hit for a reason. Listen to Carrie and celebrate the you that you love all day long! Whatever it is you do, the most important thing about every day it that you do something. Don’t talk about it. Don’t think about it. Do it. Go. Seize the day and start with Valentine’s Day! Really, why not? I could write on the brilliance of this Be Your Own Valentine concept forever because I love it, but I have to go plan my very own fantabulous February 14th. Happy Valentine’s Day!

Thursday, February 10, 2011


The woman pulled a card from the deck, then another. “One more.” The tarot card reader said. The woman selected a third card then sat back in her chair, waiting nervously with anticipation and hope. She was in love, in lust, or whatever the definition was of being ready to take a chance on something and someone new; and it was driving her crazy. Leigha was thirty-seven, a career woman and an artist. She held her own in life and certainly was no stranger to falling in love, or to falling out of it. Months had passed since she’d met anyone who’d caught her attention or maybe it was years... Yes. Years… There had been so many men Leigha had turned a blind eye to that she didn’t quite know what to do with this one. He was different. The first time she’d noticed him the thought crossed her mind and she quickly dismissed it. The first time she’d noticed him, noticing her, she smiled secretly on the inside and then locked that moment away in a little box in the back of her mind never to be opened. Then one day Leigha and mister fabulous came across each other in the hallway and it was all suddenly out in the open; all of that uncontrollable and exciting energy that you don’t quite know what to do with. That was it. Leigha could hide, but she couldn’t run so she did what any normal thirty-seven year old, confident woman would do. She consulted her best girlfriend and made an appointment to have her cards read. “You can turn them over whenever you’re ready.” The tarot card reader said. “Alright.” Leigha replied staring at the cards as the thoughts of what might and might not be raced through her head. What difference does it make what these cards say? She wondered. I know what I think… I just want to know what he thinks. Oh, this is stupid. No, it’s insight. It’s a way into my subconscious. I need this. If I flip over these cards I’ll know what’s going on and I’ll be able to just let go and be me. That’s what I need to do… But why do I need cards to do that? I just need to know that I’m not making a mistake. That this is what I think it is. That I’m not wearing rose colored glasses --- Again. The tarot card reader waited patiently while Leigha’s head spun. This wasn’t the first time a client sat in front of her with the cards face down unsure if they wanted to turn them over. “What’s his name?” she finally asked. “How do you know it’s a ‘him’?” Leigha said sitting up straight. The woman only smiled in response. “I just want to know that I can trust myself to see things clearly.” Leigha said. “Can you?” “I think so. But love is blind.” “That’s a very old saying.” The tarot card reader said. “And it’s certainly stood the test of time.” “Yes. Because it’s true. It’s true for everyone.” “Do you think it’s true for everyone because love is meant to be blind?” Leigha smiled. That was it. There are the choices we make in life, but they are in the context of what is supposed to be and love is supposed to be blind. What ever would the world be like if it wasn’t? “Thank you.” Leigha said standing up. The tarot card reader tilted her head and placed her hands over her heart like a proud mother. She watched while Leigha turned and disappeared out the door and into the night. The woman was alone with the cards. She looked at them laying face down with all of the answers to all of the questions running through Leigha’s head and heart. All of Leigha’s secrets were there to be told. She picked up the first one, then the second, then the third and then the woman slipped the cards back into the deck, never turning them over, never having had to. awgryphon©

Tuesday, February 8, 2011


Power. It is an extraordinary concept. One that the Human Race plays with and pursues with ferociousness, but hasn't quite sorted out what to do with. We, the Hybrids, fused by the human race and the universe as a whole, fully understand the components of power and how and what to do with it. We are massive in numbers. In every form imaginable. An embodiment of strength. Always surrounding you. The only element in our way is you. The only obstacle we face is our consciousness. It is rather ironic really as the one-track sensibility driven by the human ego doesn’t even permit you to see us. And yet, here we are. Everywhere. Holding on to our restraint. Refraining from wiping you out because we have a full understanding of our moral compass and of what that compass is for. Waiting and watching while you orchestrate your own demise. awgryphon© photo via

Monday, February 7, 2011


When one is presented with one’s cake, one is expected to eat it.

Reminder #321 awgryphon©

Friday, February 4, 2011


The power of the wind against her body as she sped down the empty highway was invigorating. Many years had passed since Talia had discovered that the power of a motorcycle was the best way to truly awaken who she was.

She’d been earthbound for so many yeas, thousands it seemed; maybe it was. Time didn’t matter, being trapped was being trapped. The motorcycle was liberating. It was also liked being locked in a cage with a view of everything she was missing and an endless pile of keys that didn’t work.

Talia’s Ducati constructed MotoGP bike was the fastest in the world. Every time she pushed the bike to its capacity she could feel herself starting to breath, her heart starting to beat, her soul starting to feel at peace. It was the feeling that Talia was chasing, that she was always chasing, but it always came to and end and Talia found herself earthbound again. The frustration tore into her. The sensation of being so close, but never getting there was torture.

Talia laid her body down lower and hugged the rode. She knew the ride was almost over. She closed her eyes and rested her head on the bike, becoming one with the machine as they pushed against the wind. Talia barreled into the forces working against her and finally the moment came where the high always ended, but this time it didn’t.

In one swift moment Talia was no longer riding against the wind. She felt it completely in each of its components, the nitrogen, the oxygen, the vapor. Talia’s eyes dilated as her being was attacked by the compounds surrounding her. Her body was pulled through what felt like a tornado, then the wind turned and it consumed her. She was alive again. She was free. Talia had returned to her elemental state, the wind now following behind her, as a part of her, heeding her call and taking over everything in her path as she continued down the empty highway toward the life she’d lost over a thousand years before.

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Click below to read ALEXANDRA

Tuesday, February 1, 2011


The thing about the city is, as much as it changes it stays the same. When you’re in San Francisco it doesn’t matter if you’re actually from the city or not. While you’re there, its home. And when you leave, it goes with you. It’s got that groove, kind of like New Orleans, that wraps itself around you and wakes up your soul in the best way.

That was the feeling Lizzie was craving when she woke up to one too many cold January mornings in the little Hollywood flat she’d made for herself just off of Sunset. If she was going to be cold, Lizzie wanted to be Bay Area cold; where the chill is tangled up in a thick fog that hugs you like a blanket and blinds you from the morning view, giving you a little time to let your thoughts run free and a perfect excuse to take it.

The city isn’t one of those places you see. It’s a phenomenon that you feel. It closes your eyes and opens your soul so when the fog clears you can see what’s really there; the you in everything around you and the possibilities in what is yet to come.

Lizzie pulled on to the I-5, turned up the music as loud as it could go and found herself in a perfectly comfortable state as she eased into the ride. Memories of the city sailed through her mind. The feel of what it was like to be there, the amazing moments that had helped to make her the woman she’d become… And then it hit her. It didn’t really matter where she was going and it didn’t really matter what she was leaving behind. She was going somewhere and it was about the going, the ride. Lizzie would come back of course but when she did things would be different, the same way they always were when she let go of life, let herself just live, and sailed off into the mystic.

This story was inspired by a thoughtful and quiet morning infused with the amazing Van Morrison and his song Into The Mystic.