Thanks to Tianna for her kind words!
For anyone feeling the weight of the world, watch.
https://www.facebook.com/plugins/video.php?href=https%3A%2F%2Fwww.facebook.com%2Fmichaelfranti%2Fvideos%2F10154762461701360%2F&show_text=0&width=560“>Michael Franti & an amazing 9-year-old
When my daughter and I went to the Whale Rock Music Festival last weekend there were so many wonderful performances. But when I saw this 9-year-old girl join Michael Franti and Spearhead on stage, it lifted my heart in ways this writer has no words for.
A beautiful day dancing in the sun with my baby girl. Then, as it set, Spearhead filled the skies with joy.
Love always finds a way.
….there are some things that happen when we create that we have no knowledge of. They just come. From the stars. Or the sky. Or sometimes from a dimension far away. Another world.
“Social Studies is boring,” your sixth grader says. “Just stupid facts and dates.”
“Really?” you ask with a playful twinkle in your eye while clicking on the following YouTube video. “I guess you’ve never heard any myths from ancient Egypt.”
Exchanges like the above are one of the reasons I wrote, Artania: The Pharaohs’ Cry. When I taught 6th grade I found very few tie-in novels that brought both the history and mythology of ancient Egypt alive. Yet, their myths were so cool. Battles, revenge, love, sacrifice. All fodder for a roller-coaster ride into an imagined past.
Now your child can learn about the gods and history of Egypt without ever saying boring. Instead they’ll ride on skateboards with Bastet and Horus, journey through the pyramids with Osiris, and grin at Anubis shaking his tail. What are you waiting for? Magic is about to begin.
Long ago there was a little girl
Who had two fathers.
One was present
The other absent.
As she grew
She wished they could trade places.
And one day they did
But they received identical index fingers
In the exchange.
Two imputable Musketeer swords
Pointed and crossed,
Bidding charges at the mother:
We denounce her as Vilifier.
Our recompense will be her blood.
And so it was
That in their recriminatory cries
An ignoble cause was born.
And they thrust their blades silently
In glorious abandonment.
But in all their dark crusades
In lands both far and near
Seeking reprisal for deeds
They never knew that
The mother stood strong
In her adult armor
While the child
In a heap on the floor.