Seven Mile Ferry — a well-traveled path with, I’m sure, a tale to be told. Yet I was not in the mood for the ramblings of some roadway. I had come to share, and hopefully to be shared with, by some of God’s good folk. My destination was Salem.

The word has two meanings for me. First, “Salem,” from the Hebrew, means peace. Of course, any good reader who has spent any time in the gospels will tell you there’s really no such thing as an actual location for peace. Matter of fact, there’s a warning that those who pursue such a utopia will often find “sudden destruction”–or a “sword.”  No, the Good Book tells us that peace requires a maker.

“Blessed are the peacemakers, for they shall be called the children of God.” (Which, by the way, is a far cry better than being referred to as the “Brats of Beelzebub…”)

The second image that pops into my mind when I think of “Salem” is the town in Massachusetts, which for one reason or another, decided to begin looking on its young lasses as witches. Although we might be tempted, after an evening of perusing reality television, to sympathize with these forefathers, it’s rather doubtful that any of these characters are possessed with much more than themselves. Yes, Salem, Massachusetts, went on a witch hunt–and even though the conclusions were rather dubious, there was an awful lot at stake, so they went ahead a burned a bunch of ‘em anyway.

So I was curious, upon arriving at this new sanctuary of possibility, which Salem lay before me. Would it be a building filled with peace-makers or those who are just making pieces out of everything, breaking their world apart into black and white?

The difference is really quite simple. Those who have decided to make peace always arrive in life with anticipation. They have discovered the key to making the human journey pleasant and plausible lies in determining that God is ready to bless instead of curse or ignore. If you really believe that we have all fallen so short of the glory of God that He’s basically abandoned the human part of His creative mission and is searching for the nearest whack to destroy us, then you will find it very difficult to want to make peace. You will also find it unnecessary to have “ears to hear”–because one of the true signs of a peace-maker is that he or she has taken their anticipation and has put on ears because they believe there are blessings to be had.

On the other hand, those who make pieces out of life, looking to fragment everything into its parts for careful scrutiny, always lead with suspicion. Let’s be honest–if you’re convinced the world is evil and God is doing battle with iniquity, then the only conclusion you could possibly come to is that most people you meet are flirting with darkness, and it is your duty to expose their bleakness and proclaim them to be transgressors so as to do the will of God and protect yourself from destruction. It is a fascinating fact that those who have suspicion crawling up their spines only have ears to fear. It doesn’t matter what you tell them–they will translate it into some sort of horror or pending doom.

So you can imagine–I was curious upon arriving at this beautiful, well-constructed, country church, whether I would find Salem, the peace makers, or Salem, occupied by those trying to make pieces out of something truly holy.

Walking into the building, I was greeted. That’s always a good sign. A hand should always come our way before a stare. At least that’s my opinion. I was engulfed by a sea of hands, and proclamations from people’s lips that they had been looking forward to what God was going to be doing. The comical part of the preamble to the service was that these delightful human beings were so anxious to communicate their excitement that I got prayed for three times. Usually, in a United Methodist Church, if you get one prayer, you are fortunate. But I got a triple anointing. So that put a giddiness in my heart–that the message my Father gave to me to share with my brothers and sisters was actually going to be heard instead of being criticized by those wanting to find something absurd. Because as I told you, when there’s anticipation in the room, there are ears to hear. And as Jesus said, “when people have ears to hear, let them hear.”

Salem United Methodist Church has discovered a great truth–God doesn’t bless us. Blessing is everywhere and we either arrive to receive it or we stand firm in our stubbornness, to reject it. It really comes down to one question–is peace in my control? Or in the control of God and the devil?

If you think that the heavens or hell are manipulating what happens next in your life, you will very suspicious and have ears to fear. But if you know that we are the peace makers, the children of God, then you will show up in life with anticipation, with ears to hear. Ears to hear? Or ears to fear? It’s the difference between finding God or fearing life.

I had a beautiful morning. People were touched and likewise with me. But it all revolved around the fact that this little chapel out on Seven Mile Ferry Road decided to be filled with anticipation instead of suspicion. They made a decision not to hunt for the witch, but to be a congregation which hunts … for peace.

The producers of jonathots would humbly request a yearly subscription donation of $10 for this wonderful, inspirational opportunity

What we’ve got on our hands is an oncoming era of enlightenment (I prefer that to the often-touted “revolution”). ‘T wasn’t long ago that being a self-published author was practically as shocking and horrific as being a witch in Salem, Massachusetts circa 1700.

“What damnation have you wrought upon yourself? Upon us all?” The traditional pub villagers would cry as they rushed for their pitch forks and torches. “Be gone with you, unnatural creatures!”

And those unkind words were enough to send us packing. They didn’t have to chase us out of the village, for we never had any real magic, we were never any real threat.

Until…

We opened our eyes. We saw the true powers we possessed, and we saw the villagers for what they lacked.

We are able to manipulate our circumstances. We have more control than any who’ve gone before us. Self-publishing truly is magic.

But we can’t just walk around all blasé, showing off our green skin and harry warts while levitating our way through the park. That would be a mistake. We need to put on a little bit of concealer and keep our feet on the ground. We wouldn’t want to scare them away.

Similarly, a self-published or indie author needs to put on a bit of a show. We need to know when to conform to the “village” way of life and when to do our own damn thang. If we can get them to come in for a closer look, they might understand our allure. Then they’ll stop being so afraid.

Our make-up isn’t Maybelline to cover that green skin (I ♥ you, Elphaba). No. We apply our foundation by writing a truly fetching and well-edited manuscript. We dab on the blush when we take the time and expense needed to don an attractive book cover. Our lipstick is a professional, personal, and functional web presence.

Don’t we look pretty? We do, I tell you. And we’re all the more beautiful for knowing that we possess something so much deeper within:  creativity, stick-to-it-ness, bravery, and of course – magic.

If you really examine the state of the publishing industry, it’s not the traditional house execs that populate the villages. Oh, they’re definitely the mayors, the cryers, and a few other choice townspeople. But if you want to see who lives in the village, go and knock on a few doors.

It’s the readers, bibliophiles, book addicts. They’re the ones who built this town. The mayor would have no village to govern if ‘tweren’t for them.

And thank God for it!

We arrived on their doorsteps – beaten, bloody, in need of a hot meal and a bit of rest. They may have been put off by our bedraggled appearance, but they ultimately let us in and showed us the true nature of their hospitality.

I kind of like this town; I think I’ll move in
__________________________________________________________

Alex Kosmitoras’s life has never been easy. The only other student who will talk to him is the school bully, his parents are dead broke and insanely overprotective, and to complicate matters even more, he’s blind. Just when he thinks he’ll never have a shot at a normal life, an enticing new girl comes to their small Midwest town all the way from India. Simmi is smart, nice, and actually wants to be friends with Alex. Plus she smells like an Almond Joy bar. Sophomore year might not be so bad after all.

Unfortunately, Alex is in store for another new arrival–an unexpected and often embarrassing ability to “see” the future. Try as he may, Alex is unable to ignore his visions, especially when they suggest Simmi is in mortal danger. With the help of the mysterious psychic next door and friends who come bearing gifts of their own, Alex embarks on his journey to change the future.

Buy Now @ Amazon
Genre – Fantasy / Futuristic & Romance
Rating – PG13
More details about the author & the book

Connect with Emlyn Chand on Twitter & Facebook 
Website http://www.emlynchand.com/

This guest post is part of Emlyn’s blog tour with OrangeBerry Virtual Book Tours.
Check out the tour’s schedule here.

We lived in Salem, MA for 5+ years – we used to go to the Dunkin Donuts by the cemetery and get Baskin Robbins ice cream and sit on the benches, all dedicated to the victims of the Witch Trials. Giles was the worst though. Poor Giles…

I cannot access my anger. I have sadness in spades, I swim in anxiety, and, to reference a Morrissey song, death is always at my elbow, linked. But anger…it’s never really there. I don’t get angry, I shut down. And as far as the trauma, I’m not angry at anyone. I understand everything that happened and I don’t blame anybody. My sibling blames my parents for everything, although we’ve had the same experiences I’ve managed to function highly, and it’s easier for me mentally to cut my dead mother a break, given that she was sick, and to embrace my 30-years-sober Dad, who had no direction, no father, no education,  just 14 siblings and corporal punishment (most notably in the form of a hot stove and little boy skin) meted out to him all the time and a sister crush by a semi in front of him and then scraped off the road in front of him, his mother and his myriad siblings by the Boston DPW. He did the best he could.

So I’m never angry. And yet, if I listen to Nine Inch Nails I literally have dissociative experiences. Completely lose myself. And it’s because Trent’s ANGER reaches deep into me and grips mine with the force of nine-inch-nails and I just zone out, I am not there, I am not anywhere, I am just experiencing an anger I cannot even identify, and it feels good (best not to listen while driving).

But here’s a band I can listen to WITHOUT the dissociation. I play this song on a loop, it’s an older one, less refined than their more recent records. Mindless Self Indulgence has a cult following but they’re not for everybody. I steer away from their more sexually charged songs, both because I don’t relate and maybe I’m a bit of a prude (although “I Wanna do Something Freaky to You” by Leon Haywood is on every disco/soul mix I’ve ever made).  This one is angry. See if you can get through it.

This song works up my anger in a physical way, no dissociation, just YESYESYESYESYES.  We saw them live last year. They were MAGICAL! Magically mad, even…

DISCLAIMER: It is a cover – written by Method Man of the Wu Tang Clan.  Many rap groups like the “N” word – Jimmy did not put it into the song – the lyrics as he sings them are as they were written by an African American songwriter. So DON’T take offense. MSI also covers Whitney Houston and Rush, they are all over the road in terms of covers.

I just listened to it again. Why does this song bring me peace?

Tourists typically come to Salem looking for the history of the Witch trials of 1692. And unfortunately, it is a topic that is not well explained in school. The reasoning for that is because people usually learn about the witch trials through Arthur Miller’s play The Crucible. Most high school students in the United States come across this required reading at one point or another. And most assume it is an accurate interptation of the history of the witch trials. While it is a very good play full of symbolism and historic language, it is an artistic interpertation of the names and events from the witch hysteria. Arthur Miller took creative license and changes things around to create an affair between John Proctor and Abigail Williams thus explaining why the accusations might have occurred. However, these two people were not having an affair in real life. John Proctor was not as sexy as Daniel Day Lewis, he was sixty years old and had lost all his teeth, while Abigail Williams was actually 12 and not 18.

From the 1996 film The Crucible.

I can remember in high school, we had to do a project after reading The Crucible. One student chose to present the history of the witch hysteria. He used the plot of the play and not that actual history, and my teacher had to explain that these two stories are not interchangeable. To be perfectly honest, this was the first time I fully understood The Crucible is not historic, its fictional.

The point I am trying to make is that there is a lot of misinformation out there about the Salem Witch Hysteria. Constantly, Salemites and those in the historic tourist industry in Salem try to get the correct information out there instead. There is a common “joke” many Salem Witch Hysteria historians use to help a tourist always remember that those who were accused were actually innocent and not a witch. In order to do this, we tell the tourist about the sparknotes history of the witch trials. What I do is share the story of the witch trials with the tourist and talk about how over 150 people were accused and twenty people were killed, nineteen were hanged and one was pressed to death. Then I always say “keep in mind none of these people were actually witches”.  I then ask “how many witches were hanged at Gallows Hill?” What is your answer? Nineteen? Well that’s what all the tourists say despite the fact that I JUST TOLD THEM THAT NONE OF THESE PEOPLE WERE ACTUAL WITCHES. The answer is none. NONE.

I know I have been woefully neglecting you, but I have a good reason I swear!  It’s  National Preservation Month  and here at work that is combined with a time heavy in reviewing Architectural Plans and preparing for our awards ceremony, then add to that the fact that a co-worker and I promised  to give a presentation to a Local Historical Commission on re-purposing disused Municipal buildings, so yeah… I might have over-extended myself just a bit.

I don’t want to leave you hanging, though, so I’m going to leave you with a couple of pictures from one of the buildings in my presentation on re-using your town’s Municipal buildings. This particular building is the Salem Jail in Salem, Massachusetts. It underwent a MASSIVE rehabilitation where it went from an unused former jail to luxury Condos and a great jail-themed restaurant called The Great Escape. Check out their website, since it gives some before photos of the jail.

Here is a before picture from the Preservation Nation Blog:

Here is a an artistic view of  the after  from the company who markets the Condos (I love the guy hanging out in the doorway!):

I will be back when things quiet down a little bit. Enjoy Preservation Month!

-Etta

Poetry can be a solitary task what with all the writing and revising and talking to your raven.  So two weekends ago, I decided to volunteer at the Massachusetts Poetry Festival in Salem, MA.  The festival was headed by a friend of mine and I was happy to help out.  The weekend started with the nearly 5 hour drive up after work on Friday.  The drive was actually pretty relaxing and I saw some really great scenery.

On Saturday, I spent the early part of the day directing volunteers and poets to check in and get their shirts, like this one!

I did get to spend some time volunteering outside in the beautiful weather.  After my shift was over, I walked around Salem and took some pictures of the scenery.

It’s funny what you’ll see around town.  This is probably the most uplifting (and literary based) “graffiti” I’ve ever seen in a bathroom stall.

Afterwards, I attended the panel “Enduring Song,” led by my friend, Monica Hand.  She and Katie Rushin spoke of African-American poets and their link to song and singers.  I didn’t take pictures there since it was a small venue and it would’ve been distracting.

After the panel, all of the volunteers and poets were invited to a reception with yummy food, live music, and great company.

After dinner came the headline poetry reading, featuring Joy Harjo, Nikky Finney, Sherwin Bitsui, Wesley McNair, and Susan Cattaneo.  Here are some shots I took from the night:

I headed home the next day after a full weekend.  All in all, it was a fun experience that melded the practice of writing poetry with action!

Want to see more shots of my time in Massachusetts?  You can check out the Flickr gallery here!

Want to read the post that started the 25 @ 25 project?  See the first post (and me in a yellow dress equally as bright as this shirt) here!

When we reached this city by the Atlantic, it was lit with a golden slant of winter sun with wind gusts bringing the temperature down to a chilling 20 degrees Fahrenheit. It wasn’t the best weather to stroll the streets of Salem, but it meant we could skip the shtick of the tourist sites and visit only the essential landmarks that were important enough to stay open year-round.

We started with a visit to the National Park Service Visitor Center to get a sense of the city, its history and geological past. We, of course, bought the National Park Service passport, so we could continue our trend of collecting park stamps.

There are more options when visiting Salem between May and October, but still plenty to choose from year-round, like the Peabody Essex Museum, the largest art museum north of Boston; House of Seven Gables; The Witch House (the only building in Salem still standing that is associated with the 1692 witch trials); and Salem 1630: Pioneer Village, a living history museum.

But we chose to visit only these sites because they related to my daughter’s study of the era, and they were open:

• The Old Burying Point, which is the oldest cemetery in Salem and contains the graves of a witch trial judge.
• The Witch Trials Memorial, dedicated in 1992 to mark the tercentenary of the Salem Witch Trials of 1692.
• Salem Witch Museum
• Salem Maritime National Historic Site

Our tour of the city was mostly educational and not a bit scary until we finished our day with a guided tour of the Derby and Narbonne Houses. The sun was setting and the wind was whipping at us with a fury. We were the only ones on the last tour, so we quickly went through the Derby House and walked over to the Narbonne. The 300-year old house had not been refurbished, because the park wanted to display how the architecture changed during its 300-year existence. The floors and ceilings slanted at odd angles, the paint was chipped, and the air was musty. As we walked in, my daughter was overcome with heebie-jeebies and she jumped a mile high when the wind shut the door behind us. Even the guide was a bit spooked by the energy. We quickly walked through the misshapen house and ended our tour.

In many ways the city honors its haunting past, while also celebrating its swanky tourist flair. It’s a creepy place that’s a bit funky.

We ended our day with a stroll along Essex street, browsing the many witch stores, and pausing for awhile at Hex, which was featured on Ghost Adventures. We closed our day with an incredible meal at Gulu-Gulu Cafe.

In the end, we discovered that Salem does not want to forget its tragic past, but for 400 years it has tried to reveal its many other identities — historic seaport, thriving fishing village, artists’ haven, and funky suburb to Boston. Yet, it will forever be remembered as the city of witches.

Thankfully, Salem was relatively unaffected by the storm. For anyone who doesn’t know, Salem is the site of historic witch trials in 1692. Something like 150 people were accused of witchcraft, and 19 innocent people were put to death for being witches. 18 were hanged and 1 was crushed to death with heavy stones. Salem was also the setting of Arthur Miller’s “The Crucible”.

So you can see how every year at Halloween, hundreds of people travel to Salem to recreate the events and explore any hauntings. When we first arrived, we traveled down Essex Street and saw a lot of really interesting costumes.

Then we saw a show called “Cry Innocent”. It was a recreation of the trial of Bridget Bishop, one of the falsely accused who was eventually hanged. They started the show by dragging the actress down Essex Street and the audience members “become” the lynch mob. Then they led us to an old courthouse where we were supposed to be the jurors.

Next we saw went into a store called “Hex”, where they sell things like incense, voodoo dolls, tarot cards, etc. I’m not going to lie it was pretty weird. We also passed a man preaching hellfire and brimstone surrounded by people dressed in macabre costumes trying to drown him out with horns and whistles. It made me wonder what the people of 1692 Salem would have thought of that. We did a little more perusing and people watching and ended up at the Old Burying Point Cemetery, the 2nd oldest cemetery in the US. The judge John Hawthorne who sentenced the innocent to death in 1692 is buried here.

Then, we made our way to the Salem Witch Museum. There they had a few rooms with wax figures and recorded monologues that told the full story of the witch trials and explained where the stereotype of witchcraft came from and why.

Lastly, we hopped in a bike carriage and visited the Witch House. It was the house of judge Jonathan Corwin. It is the only house in Salem that actually has ties to the trials, as the judge participated in them.

We would have liked have seen more, but we didn’t want to leave our puppies at home any longer and I needed to get home to take my Follistim (Oh the joys of infertility!).