Max Mariner
Bio
Stories (6/0)
Heal
I seek to mend. It's what I aim to do. I’m not a doctor or a nurse. I’m not a seamstress or a therapist or a mechanic or a minister of those who sin. I was an average human being, bumbling along life’s mercurial trail, when I stumbled and tripped and eventually fell. It became clear to me that change was the key. Change was inevitable, so why not embrace it and keep it real. Life threw some lemons my way, as it frequently likes to do, and I abhore lemonaide plus citrus juice stings my wounds. Peering outside my narrow box, I knew not what I was looking for, I just knew I needed happiness to be what's in store. Ergo, finding joy and self-love became my mission. I had to get creative without any funding to budget or mentor to whom I'd listen, so I embraced my inner destroyer and will love myself right out of my prison. I did, however, need an income and now, as a new parent, a legacy in good example became an important ideal for my child to inherit. So I sent fear on a well deserved vacation and took a open and honest inventory of my space. In my plenty years thus far, my heart had always been lightest when I was immersed and dutiful in my yoga practice, So I busted out all my old notes and dusted off my tired text books- because if this was going to work, I needed to practice, plan and review. I was blessed to have trained in the craft of which 6000 years of healing techniques and secrets had been preserved.
By Max Mariner3 years ago in Motivation
Adulting in Europe
I have had the good fortune to travel. Just out of my teens, old enough to appreciate the gift and young enough to make the most if it, I was sent off, along with my brothers, to run amok for months through Europe on a budget. We had so many adventures, travelling through countries without the binds of parents, which would change each one of us and create memories to treasure. Our dad was Swiss born and his chilled out parenting style was never more apparent as when he sent us off packing, passing out Euro rail passes, paper maps, and pocket money while waving and laughing. We would be gone for months with only each other, learning life lessons and collecting adult experiences. Day one with nerves for breakfast, we strapped on monster sized mountaineering backpacks and hiked across the creek to wait at the train tracks. We would leave at the crack of dawn to catch the earliest train from his Swiss chalet. We would grin wildly and wave at our Dad who smiled wisely while watching from the terrace. We would carefully map out the countries we planned to visit, assuring we would sleep on the trains for the duration of the travel and awake upon arriving in new cities. That was about as far out as our planning would allow. Once we were unleashed from our baggage, we would free style our visits. Finding places to stay on a budget and getting lost in the villages were typical days in our lives’ privileges. This was the year 2000, before tragedy struck the US and the internet created havoc. Although we were young and it wasn’t yet demanded, we were incredibly aware of our privilege and were bowled over with gratitude. Our Dad came from nothing and worked hard his whole life, but he instilled in us humility and the importance of generosity. Allowing us the opportunity to see parts of the world we only knew from books and movies, he gifted us with an appreciation for life in other cultures.
By Max Mariner3 years ago in Families
Bon Coeur
Who? Aurora, in mythology, was the goddess of the dawn. She was a pioneer for new beginnings and an innovator of change. To the weary or wounded or those just needing something new, the door of Bon Coeur would open for all to walk through. The welcome is for any and all, from every walk of life, to bring all of your baggage, struggles, pain or strife. Our egos are persona non grata, for it is equality which we embrace. We will always make room for wanderers to join our race. As a perfect vessel for this journey, ceremonially christened and unchained, Aurora was launched as the voyager and keeper of Bon Coeur.
By Max Mariner3 years ago in Motivation
Kickapoo Juice
The stars in the night’s sky have never shone as bright as since that night they tap danced across the pond's blackened ice. Sparkling and spinning mirror balls casting light in the dim night, the constellations dazzled but she closed her eyes. She recalled his scent securing its imprint in her bank of memory. He wore cologne that suggested mystery and debonair but revealed the back woods, nature loving country boy for whom he was reared. He was all of the above plus. The patriarch of the family was admired by all and hundreds arrived from near and far to pay their respects. She was a proud granddaughter and a grieving granddaughter. The air was crisp and nipped at her nose urging for her to return to the warmth in the home. Shivering in the cold, she took one last look at the frozen mass that once was a vibrant pond that grew into a lake and made the decision to go inside and engage.
By Max Mariner3 years ago in Families
Light house
The chill cast from the sand that sifted between her toes was no match for the burn of his blistering words. The bite from their beef that day left a bitter aftertaste. Stomach dropping snubs over something so inane left her reeling in pain.. Her vision blurred as she fought back her tears but that battle she lost and they poured from her fire eyes in cresting waves down her cheeks. Those green eyes she harbored were as vast as the ocean. They were deep and held secrets but betrayed her every emotion. Their color ranged from charcoal gray to emerald green depending on the weather of her heart’s temperament. As fast as they flared however, the cool calm could set in if she changed her mind. She thought of his grin. Her smile broke out as she gazed on the horizon. She remembered how he would drown in her eyes, swimming for miles, hopeless as a wayward seaman chasing his mirage. Happiness was a warm night by his side drifting to the sounds that he summoned to heal. Sonic bliss was what she called it when he strummed his guitar. Many moons of midnights, he would sing and softly serenade her as she slept. Then there were months of sun drenched skin and freckles for days that were spent bonding together, beachside and riding waves. She knew he was close to pioneering tunes and paving new ways for future generations of kids who lived for music and loved to play. He had talent. He had turmoil. Together they could make art. Their love was art. Limbs remained twisted like a pretzel while their hearts mended and melted together, solidifying a love that could have stood the test of time. A love that was so rare, it was certainly sublime. One might suggest such love that profound would just be wasted on the youth. They had their youth but not much else. That love gave them power. Power can attract many things, but more often than not, power pairs well with abuse. That love changed their directions and ultimately severed many paths. It was real. It was hot. It was hard. To the two, it was as essential as breath is to life. Changing and growing and breaking and destroying, that love cemented itself into their stories and never left. She knew it was special and worth the fight. So she began to make her way back to their home. Unaware of the lurking shadow that had selected her as pray, she shuffled slowly home, lost in feeling freshly injured from their day. Shivering with goose bumps that prickled her like a pear, her teeth chattered. She hastened her stride when the howling wind began to whip through her hair. The day was done and it was time to forget. Tomorrow would come and they would easily forgive. So close to a home and that love and regret. Green eyes saw white. White sand washed away crimson red. Red heart beats like a distant drum fade.
By Max Mariner3 years ago in Humans