Excerpt From A Work In Progress

Hyatt Regency Hotel Lobby
Number 5 Embarcadero
San Francisco
One in our Studio is passionately and enthusiastically 'riding the wild and raging whitewater river' of writing a novel. This part of the story is about the main characters, Michael and Faye, and their first 'blind date' in April 1973. It takes place in the Lobby of the Hyatt Regency in San Francisco. This morning we discovered the above photo on All Posters, a fabulous source for images! So...of course, we decided to have a little fun and share an excerpt of Royce's work. SHhhhh. Don't tell.

The extensive ground floor entry of the iconic new hotel was coldly industrial with cool beige marble, stark walls, great slices of triangular glass and massive steel escalators placed in perfect geometric balance. Far down the corridor were immense double doors that had been wedged open with two enormous modern floral bouquets on tall shiny black pedestals. Faye couldn’t help but gawk at the amazing modernistic spectacle of the ballroom. Large spherical chandeliers with hundreds of narrow crystal arms shooting out in all directions reminded Faye of something you would expect to see in a planetarium. Her first impression of the supposedly luxurious Hyatt Regency Number 5 Embarcadero was one of quiet disappointment. But within the next few minutes she would realize the brilliance of this carefully calculated ruse. It served as the perfect foil for what was to come.

Michael wanted her first impression of the Main Lobby to be nothing less than overwhelming, dramatic and unforgettable. Faye stepped onto the wide vibrating rubberized stair that appeared before her. Michael followed one step below. She could feel Michael looking at her. As they slowly and rhythmically moved upwards, he gently tapped her on the shoulder,

“Step off at the next floor. Stop and close your eyes. Don’t peek! Don’t open your eyes until I tell you. No cheating! Promise me. Scout’s Honor!”

“Okay, Scout’s Honor!”


Michael had a nice voice. Resonant. Pleasant. Full of energy. Faye was startled by how quickly he spoke. During the ride into San Francisco, she had to pay close attention and concentrate in order to understand the rapid-fire speed of his speech. It wasn’t that he was nervous. Michael just seemed to have so much to say that he couldn’t get it out fast enough. Faye found this flattering. Nothing worse than awkward or uncomfortable silence between two people.

Faye stepped off the final escalator, took a few steps away from the main platform and waited for Michael. He was right behind her and instructed, “Now, close your eyes. Don’t open them until I tell you.” Devilishly he added, “You can trust me.” She rolled her eyes dramatically before closing them. Michael briskly, in a business-like manner, took her left hand in his, “OK. Let’s go. No peeking!”

Both of their hands were quite warm. Faye realized that she felt a great sense of anticipation and deep comfort. His touch felt strong and safe. For some reason Faye began counting the steps they were taking - 25, 26, 27.

Michael stopped abruptly. A vivid symphony of sound played all around them. People talking. Laughter. Glasses clinking. Big band music fusing with a jazz tune. The ‘ding-ding-ding’ of what sounded to be multiple elevator bells ringing on several floors at the same time. Foreign languages. The surprised gasps of delight. Michael’s voice was full of the promise for a glorious surprise, “Are you ready? Open your eyes.”

Faye was struck dumb, absolutely speechless. Her eyes were seeing but her brain wasn’t able to process it all simultaneously. The images magnificent. She realized they were standing in a vast open atrium, reaching well above one hundred feet tall. Faye finally found her voice, “I’ve never seen anything like this! It’s amazing! Tell me all you know.”

“Well, the architect was John Portman. My Dad and Grandfather’s company did all of the painting, wall covering and specialty finishes in the entire building. I worked here myself. It’s twenty stories tall and there are eight hundred rooms. The hallways to each room face the atrium. See the hanging plants cascading down from floor to floor? These serve as the balcony barriers. You can stand outside the door to your room and look over the plants, down into the lobby.
In order to paint the ceilings above the atrium, we had to construct the scaffolding from balcony to balcony. We were working at least seventeen stories above the lobby floor. Like tight-rope walkers in the circus, except we had planks instead of wire.”

In full tour guide mode Michael continued, “That gargantuan metal sculpture over there is called Eclipse. I don’t know why. The sculptor was Charles O. Perry. The giant geodesic sphere soars to forty feet tall. Perry constructed it of curved metal tubing joined together in pentagons and supported by three massive steel legs. I was told there are over 1400 pieces! The sphere actually sits on an indoor waterway and reflective pool. Let’s walk over for a closer look.”

Faye's creative sensibilities were turning delighted somersaults in her heart, “Wow! I’ve never seen anything like this before. Unbelievable! Look at those glass elevators in the shape of capsules. What a view of the lobby as you travel to the top floor! Absolute vertigo! This is better than Disneyland!”

Travel Note

If you are ever in San Francisco, don't miss a frosty beverage at the Equinox; the revolving bar atop the Hyatt Regency has one of the best views of the City and the Bay.


Sun Glare Above Clouds Photographer: Bruce Clarke


And thus they swam together, side by side,
The broken nautilus and smooth stone dancing in the unseen tide
While the soft sugar sand swirled between their toes,
And in the magical places beyond the wild mysteries of the deep
Awestruck by unexpected lightening, yet unafraid
As the resonant tenor of thunder far upon the horizon
Explains all that simply is to be
In swaying columns,
The transparent emerald seaweed swathed their ancient bodies
They stopped struggling and looked into each other’s loving eyes,
Yielding to the tanzanite blue velvet garment of the sea

Then turning onto their backs
Directed by one dazzling star whose floating glow
Cast a miracle of intense gold-white light,
Penetrating through five thousand years of timeless time long forgotten
They gazed upon the beckoning portal above,
A vast, violet vacuum of vanquished virtue
Whence the eyelash moon winked in mischievous daring;
They tasted the bittersweet salt on their moist dry lips
And felt each other’s hands bump together gently on the wave’s surface
Into one another’s keeping for all eternity – and knowing this,
Their fingers sought to weave one unto the other,
Cradling their courageous tapestry of understanding
A joyous reckoning
From this life to the next, they gently drift
Their souls draw near, and travel to the Other Side

Royce Addington



…You know how it is
Sometimes we plan a trip to one place,
But something takes us to another

When a horse is being broken,
The trainer pulls it in many different directions,
So the horse will come to know
What it is to be ridden

The most beautiful and alert horse
Is one
Completely attuned to the rider

The Universe fixes a passionate desire in you,
And then disappoints you
The Universe does this a hundred times!

The Universe breaks the wings of one intention
And gives you another
Cuts the rope of contriving,
So you’ll remember your dependence

But sometimes, your plans work out!
You feel fulfilled and in control

That’s because
If you were always failing you might give up
But remember,
It is by FAILURES that
Lovers stay aware of how they’re loved

To the kingdom within…


Photo: Tommy Hilfiger Home


Sultry Summer Sunday
In early July
The wild sea sleeps
Brazilian hummingbirds
Kiss the sky

A bed of silver driftwood on the beach
Softly slumber
Allow your dreams to teach

The live oak listens
Veils of Spanish moss glisten
The hammock rocks
No shoes
No socks

Far across the abandoned pier
An old man wizened
Dances joyfully with no one but himself
How sublime!

Waltz upon the drowsy waves
The gypsy foretold
Her ancient, mysterious wisdom
Waits patiently to unfold

Tiny baby geckos skitter across bare brown toes
The orchid bloomed last night
Sensual, Beautiful, Mystical Prose



The Creation 1510

This being human is a guest house
Every morning a new arrival

A joy
A depression
A meanness
Some momentary awareness comes
As an unexpected visitor

Welcome and entertain them all!
Even if they are a crowd of sorrows
Who violently sweep your house
Empty of its furniture
Treat each guest honorably
He may be clearing your out
For some new delight

The dark thought
The shame
The malice
Meet them at the door laughing
And invite them in

Be grateful for whoever comes
Because each has been sent
As a guide from beyond


Every so often an E-mail comes through our Studio that we feel compelled to share. If you have already been the lucky recipient of this little story of wonder and inspiration, you will recognize it. For the rest of us, it serves as a deeply heart-felt reminder that true goodness does exist in our world. A big THANK YOU to ‘Y’ for sending our way. Children remain the wisest beings among us. We were all one once.

At a fundraising dinner for a school that serves learning-disabled children, the father of one of the students delivered a speech that would never be forgotten by all who attended. After extolling the school and its dedicated staff, he offered a question:

"When not interfered with by outside influences, everything nature does is done with perfection. Yet my son, Shay, cannot learn things as other children do. He cannot understand things as other children do. Where is the natural order of things in my son?"

The audience was stilled by the query.

The father continued. "I believe that when a child like Shay, physically and mentally handicapped comes into the world, an opportunity to realize true human nature presents itself, and it comes in the way other people treat that child." Then he told the following story:

Shay and his father had walked past a park where some boys Shay knew were playing baseball. Shay asked, "Do you think they'll let me play?" Shay's father knew that most of the boys would not want someone like Shay on their team, but the father also understood that if his son were allowed to play, it would give him a much-needed sense of belonging and some confidence to be accepted by others in spite of his handicaps. Shay's father approached one of the boys on the field and asked (not expecting much) if Shay could play.

The boy looked around for guidance and said, "We're losing by six runs and the game is in the eighth inning. I guess he can be on our team and we'll try to put him in to bat in the ninth inning.

Shay struggled over to the team's bench and, with a broad smile, put on a team shirt. His Father watched with a small tear in his eye and warmth in his heart. The boys saw the father's joy at his son being accepted. In the bottom of the eighth inning, Shay's team scored a few runs but was still behind by three. In the top of the ninth inning, Shay put on a glove and played in the right field. Even though no hits came his way, he was obviously ecstatic just to be in the game and on the field, grinning from ear to ear as his father waved to him from the stands.

In the bottom of the ninth inning, Shay's team scored again. Now, with two outs and the bases loaded, the potential winning run was on base and Shay was scheduled to be next at bat. At this juncture, do they let Shay bat and give away their chance to win the game? Surprisingly, Shay was given the bat. Everyone knew that a hit was all but impossible because Shay didn't even know how to hold the bat properly, much less connect with the ball.

However, as Shay stepped up to the plate, the pitcher, recognizing that the other team was putting winning aside for this moment in Shay's life, moved in a few steps to lob the ball in softly so Shay could at least make contact. The first pitch came and Shay swung clumsily and missed. The pitcher again took a few steps forward to toss the ball softly towards Shay. As the pitch came in, Shay swung at the ball and hit a slow ground ball right back to the pitcher. The game would now be over. The pitcher picked up the soft grounder and could have easily thrown the ball to the first baseman. Shay would have been out and that would have been the end of the game.Instead, the pitcher threw the ball right over the first baseman's head, out of reach of all team mates.

Everyone from the stands and both teams started yelling, "Shay, run to first! Run to first!" Never in his life had Shay ever run that far, but he made it to first base. He scampered down the baseline, wide-eyed and startled. Everyone yelled, "Run to second, run to second!"

Catching his breath, Shay awkwardly ran towards second, gleaming and struggling to make it to the base. By the time Shay rounded towards second base, the right fielder had the ball ... the smallest guy on their team who now had his first chance to be the hero for his team. He could have thrown the ball to the second-baseman for the tag, but he understood the pitcher's intentions so he, too, intentionally threw the ball high and far over the third-baseman's head. Shay ran toward third base deliriously as the runners ahead of him circled the bases toward home. All were screaming, "Shay, Shay, Shay, all the Way Shay"

Shay reached third base because the opposing shortstop ran to help him by turning him in the direction of third base, and shouted, 'Run to third! Shay, run to third!' As Shay rounded third, the boys from both teams, and the spectators, were on their feet screaming, "Shay, run home! Run home!" Shay ran to home, stepped on the plate, and was cheered as the hero who hit the grand slam and won the game for his team.

"That day", said the father softly with tears now rolling down his face, "the boys from both teams helped bring a piece of true love and humanity into this world".

Shay didn't make it to another summer. He died that winter, having never forgotten being the hero and making his father so happy, and coming home and seeing his Mother tearfully embrace her little hero of the day!

Mystical Quill Productions and MUSEologies is committed to the belief that each one of us makes a significant difference to the well-being of our planet. We have thousands of opportunities in our lifetime to help realize the 'natural order of things’. May we all remember this inspiring story and fill some part of every day with true love and humanity.


By: Joseph Corsentino

Stone walls do not a prison make,
Nor iron bars a cage;
Minds innocent and quiet take
That for an hermitage;
If I have freedom in my love,
And in my soul am free,
Angels alone that soar above
Enjoy such liberty.

Richard Lovelace 1618 - 1657

To An English Friend in Africa

Photo of BEN OKRI

To an English Friend in Africa
Written By:
BEN OKRI (March 1991)

Be grateful for freedom
To see other dreams.
Bless your loneliness as much as you drank
Of your former companionships.
All that you are experiencing now
Will become moods of future joys
So bless it all.
Do not think your ways superior
To another's
Do not venture to judge
But see things with fresh and open eyes
Do not condemn
But praise what you can
And when you can't be silent.

Time is now a gift for you
A gift of freedom
To think and remember and understand
The ever perplexing past
And to re-create yourself anew
In order to transform time.
Live while you are alive.
Learn the ways of silence and wisdom
Learn to act, learn a new speech
Learn to be what you are in the seed of your spirit
Learn to free yourself from all things that have moulded you
And which limit your secret and undiscovered road.

Remember that all things which happen
To you are raw materials
Endlessly fertile

Endlessly yielding of thoughts that could change
Your life and go on doing for ever.

Never forget to pray and be thankful
For all the things good or bad on the rich road;
For everything is changeable
So long as you live while you are alive.

Fear not, but be full of light and love;
Fear not but be alert and receptive;
Fear not but act decisively when you should;
Fear not, but know when to stop;
Fear not for you are loved by me;
Fear not, for death is not the real terror,
But life -magically - is.

Be joyful in your silence
Be strong in your patience
Do not try to wrestle with the universe
But be sometimes like water or air
Sometimes like fire

Live slowly, think slowly, for time is a mystery.
Never forget that love
Requires that you be
The greatest person you are capable of being,
Self-generating and strong and gentle-
Your own hero and star.

Love demands the best in us
To always and in time overcome the worst
And lowest in our souls.
Love the world wisely.

It is love alone that is the greatest weapon
And the deepest and hardest secret.

So fear not, my friend.
The darkness is gentler than you think.
Be grateful for the manifold
Dreams of creation
And the many ways of unnumbered peoples.

Be grateful for life as you live it.
And may a wonderful light
Always guide you on the unfolding road.


MOONRISE by Royce©
St. Augustine Beach






-apache blessing

Happy Mother's Day...Muses My Muses

Top Photo: FAYE TYLER (1910-1990) Jan Stewart’s Mother
Bottom Photo: JAN STEWART (1934-2004) My Mother

Warm Sands Of Time©

Stretched out in the still warm sand
Under a full moon
Next to the crackling fire
Just laying there
Amazed at the fluid flames of molten gold
Dancing with the sparkling silver moon spirits
Across the velvet darkness
Skipping along the crests of a restless sea
Recognizing the miracle of Nature’s fusion
The dazzling, dizzying movement of light

Moon and Fire
Thinking about two women
Unlike any others
The smell of Estee perfume, Belgium chocolate and oil paints
Drift through my memory
Flickering flames as strokes of their talented creations
Looking into the mesmerizing night
Feeling the subtle vibration
The undulating movement
Of incoming waves
The water foams onto the soft cashmere beach

How I cherish the love
Their beautiful
Mischievous faces
No longer alive in this world
Whispering their names
Gratitude spills from my heart
A joyous remembering
I thank the Universe for their presence in my life
As our Cherokee ancestors gently nod their approval
They speak to me of love and pain
All of them
Moon Beam Souls
Warming themselves
In the hypnotic bath
Of Freedom’s Firelight



St. Augustine Beach
New Year’s Day 2008


-St. Augustine-


Full Moon Rising
November 2007
St. Augustine Beach, Florida
Photo by Royce Addington©


--Ojibway Indian Poem--