by kyle | Feb 3, 2015 | Inspiration
My very first experience on French soil occurred in 1989. I spent two weeks in southern France helping with English programs in a church there. I’d studied a bit of French, oh, about nine years earlier. Not too much left in those archives. I recalled a smattering, though. That is why I was so perplexed when I kept seeing a billboard with these words: “Je positive”. That means “I positive”. That’s right, no verb. I knew enough French to know that it made no sense at all. Years later I...
by kyle | Feb 3, 2015 | Journey
Fits and Starts (or, My Writing Journey) I’ve wanted to be a writer since the age of ten. That’s about how old I was when I decided to one day adopt the pen name “Kyle Hunter”, which is my first and middle name. It just stuck with me all those years (I won’t tell you how many.) Though the name stayed with me consistently, other aspects of my writing dream did not. I wrote my first book at the age of 11, entitled “The Fabulous Adventures of Freddie and Herbie”. It was the story of a turtle and...
by kyle | Feb 2, 2015 | Journey
Home again…some comparisons So, here I am back on USA soil. It surprised a lot of people, including me. Well, not totally, because I gradually had the sense that soon, I’d be ready to return to my own country. It starts as a small niggling emptiness, missing family more, then seeing my place in the world gradually shifting continents. Needless to say my family was ecstatic. We were used to being in different countries, but that was starting to get old, you know, the 18-hour trips to come for...
by kyle | Feb 2, 2015 | Encouragement
There I was minding my own business as I sat at my desk. Enthusiastically, I worked on some ideas related to coaching and writing, seeing how these two could work well together. Suddenly I became aware of a strange and unwelcome emotion. It rose up as from a bog, steaming, smelling putrid. Before I knew what was happening, it had begun taking over my body. My shoulders slumped and my energy leaked out like a water balloon with a foot-sized gash. My great plans didn’t look so thrilling anymore....
by kyle | Feb 2, 2015 | Inspiration
Colette will never forget the day her mother bundled up her few pieces of clothing, took her hand, and trudged through the Haitian hills towards the orphanage. Colette didn’t know where she was going or why she had all of her possessions with her. Nor did she understand why her mother never spoke a word, but wept every step of the one-hour trip. The lady who welcomed them at the entrance of the primitive stucco building smiled kindly, a pattern of worn tracks across her face showing hardship...
