James D. Greer
Bio
Hi! I am a published writer, singer-songwriter, and U.S. Army veteran of 15 years. I have traveled the world, experienced multiple cultures and communities, and am inspired by human nature and all we have to offer to each other!
Stories (8/0)
The Hills of Galloway
If you sail west across the Irish Sea to the hills of Galloway, you will see me standing there, gazing off into the distant, blurry horizon. I stand still, like a mossy statue in an old graveyard. The cold wind blows on my neck, and I must push up my collar to protect my fragile skin from the bitterness in the air. It is cold and damp. The frost blankets the ground. This is sacred ground.
By James D. Greer3 years ago in Humans
One Chevy Suburban and a Rand McNally To Go, Please.
When I was a kid, they used to make those massive Rand McNally maps of the United States. You might still get them at a local Barnes and Noble, but there’s no business in hard copy maps anymore due to the easy access of GPS on our phones and in our cars. That big book detailing all the roads and parks was entertainment for me living on our homestead in the countryside of Kentucky. We didn’t have a computer or television – in fact, we didn’t have electricity. My entertainment was either my imagination fighting dragons in the woods with wooden swords, listening to Eddie Vedder belt out “Even Flow” (1991) on the radio, or reading the many books from the shelves of our home. But most of all, I remember the maps, and I dreamed of roaming the countryside, following the highlighted curves of the road in a Chevy Suburban I’d call home.
By James D. Greer4 years ago in Beat
- Top Story - July 2020
The Country RoadTop Story - July 2020
Morning. The rising sun promised another hot day, humid and full of sweat. Grateful to be in the car soon for the next five hours, with its frigid blast of AC on my face, I greeted the day with the anticipation of home. I loved my parents deeply and always welcomed the sight of my Dad’s farm, with lazy days sitting by the pond and admiring the beauty of nature; however, I also loved my suburban house outside the busy metro of Atlanta and looked forward to driving south.
By James D. Greer4 years ago in Wander
How Marcus Aurelias' Meditations Can Help Us Prevent Violence
For thousands of years, human beings have perfected the art of symbology and communication. To survive the onslaught of natural chaos and evolution, we have created masterpieces of oral and written stories and histories that share our valuable wealth of knowledge with each other as we learn, grow, and find our Self. While some narratives have generated a massive amount of friction towards one another, others have delivered peace, prosperity, and a sense of hope. However negative or positive, one thing is certain: literature and the art of storytelling is powerful – the pen is mightier than the sword.
By James D. Greer4 years ago in Motivation
Spend In Good Company
The 2020 COVID-19 pandemic has left many people stranded and confused. The sudden change of daily routines and habits have created discord, angry tones, and a fear of social contact and proximity. People wander timidly in grocery stores with facemasks and concerned looks over empty shelves of paper products, staple foods, and their wallets. Jobs have been erased (based on TradingEconomics.com, the percentage has increased to over 14%; a 10% jump, which has been unprecedented and unprepared for by most). Families struggle to acquire household necessities, and trudge through the daily emotional burdens to try and create something worthwhile with their quarantined days. It is a global event that has tested our way of living, our fortitude, and our humanity.
By James D. Greer4 years ago in Motivation
No Handshake - No Art
I grew up in the backwoods of Kentucky, where my parents, my sisters, and I lived a homestead life of homegrown food and hard work. One of my fondest memories was helping my parents pack Tupperware boxes full of items they created by hand without the aid of machines or electricity, and heading to the fairs. My parents were artisans – people who worked with their hands and imagination, creating works of art that brought joy for many people. They were part of a community that greeted each other on early Saturday mornings at arts and crafts fairs, carnivals, farmers markets, and the little shop venues on small-town main streets or outside the bustling of urban sprawls. We would unload those boxes full of handcrafted works of art, setting them delicately on folding tables, and waited, hoping passersby would catch sight of one or two items they found wonderful. There were many times when events would provide little money; yet, we would venture back to make more works of art and hope for the best another time, making the best of what we had and being grateful. I would watch my dad, Craig, bend over his workbench late at night with carving tools and bitten lip, giving everything into his craft and creating works of instrumental wonder that people became so fond of.
By James D. Greer4 years ago in Journal
