Photo Finish Phrydae -the Wakefield Doctrine-

Welcome to the Wakefield Doctrine (the theory of clarks, scotts and rogers)


the Wakefield Doctrine…on the Road in…Arizona!


Here we are again. Friday. That means only one thing, (blogistically-speaking), time to participate in (the) Finish the Sentence Friday bloghop. Hosted each week by Kristi and Kenya, this is the first of the bloghops I participated in when I took to exploring the virtual world. Times change and the format of this ‘hop is now an interesting rotating format, this week being the photo format.  Here, lets hear it from our hosts:

Hi all! We’re on this week (LIVE, tomorrow, Feb. 22 at 10pm eastern and open all weekend long) with Photo Share Friday. Simply share a photo, tell the story behind it, and link up with either Kenya or me.
Easy peasy, right? Hope to see you there!


So, about this here photo here.

Starting in 2010 (and ending in 2013), I had business meetings to attend in Dallas (in September) and Salt Lake City (In March). While the whole, ‘this is part of what is required to do your work’ thing was surely significant to my decision to attend, what actually motivated me to make these trips was… the Wakefield Doctrine. (yeah, I know. knock you over with a feather.) No… seriously, wait, I have a reasonable explanation.

At the time of the first trip in 2010, I’d been writing this blog for a year (started in Jun3 ’09 first Doctrine Field trip Sept11 ’10). The premise (jn regards to the business trips) was: demonstrate the Wakefield Doctrine as a tool for self-improving oneself. And so, as a clark, (with all attendant self-consciousness and fear of looking out-of-place and incompetent) I set out to see if’n I could use our little personality theory on myself. And…and! to prove I could bring myself to do the whole business-convention-rooms-full-of-rogers-and-youthful-enthusiasm-and-stand-in-reception-rooms-and-mixers-and-whatever-the-hell-other-Herdcentric-activities-a-real-estate-convention-can-concoct. I knew I could do it. Hell, I realized with the first post, the Wakefield Doctrine somehow made me willing to do all sorts of uncomfortable things in the name of getting the idea out. You know, writing blogs, chatting to strangers, ignoring grammar and other glaring newbifacs that were the hallmarks of my posts in my first few years.

The real goal was …could I have fun doing it?

Not so much with the convention-Herd-mingling part. Fortunately, there was something about getting the Wakefield Doctrine out there in the real world, literally and physically. The idea was to get a photo of me and my Wakefield Doctrine hat in front of as many people (and places and things) as possible. (This is referred to as ‘the Rite of Hat’. This link will take you to the first video from one of these trips. Adult language advisory (well, ‘adult’ in the sense of an F bomb, not in the sense of the speaker’s maturity lol)

Anyway. The photo above is me at Meteor Crater, Arizona. (I smiled and asked a total stranger if they didn’t mind taking the picture of me an my hat. Really!)

Salt Lake City (on business) flew to Phoenix (instead of directly home) rented a car, drove to Meteor Crater, Winslow (well, because, it’s got this corner and), onwards to the Petrified Forest. Whereupon I immediately got back in the car and returned to Phoenix. Flew home.

Fun. Self-improvement. Wakefield Doctrine.


Six Sentence Story -the Wakefield Doctrine-

Welcome to the Wakefield Doctrine (the theory of clarks, scotts and rogers)

Every week, at this point in the week, we sit down and start a post. The post will ultimately be our Six Sentence Story, however at this stage (with words like this, in spirit, if not form) we’re out to see if we can’t get something going. With the prompt word of the week.

(zoe is the host and the bloghop is Six Sentence Story. The aim, the theme, the ambition of those of us on ‘the other side of the monitor’ is write a story consisting of six (and only six) sentences.)

(A year or so ago I did a series of ‘girl-on-the-run’ ‘Sixes’. If I can find the links, I’ll stick ’em here. For now: the girl is Starr Diamond, she is being chased by a man with a german accent and her life is totally in danger.  …oh yeah, she’s from a very wealthy family from Back East and her sister, Victoria, has hired a detective to find her. (but this is not about that).)



“Allemande left!”

Stumbling, blonde hair sweeping forward to create a decidedly out-of-place burqa, the girl’s martial arts training had her left shoulder dip, the better to roll out of the coming impact with the sawdust covered floor; her excitement was enhanced by the fact that she had no memory to account for the saw-toothed fiddle music blaring over the crowd of cowboy hat wearing heads.

Starr’s attention was focused on the rapidly approaching floor, every bit the luckless passenger sliding towards the rail of a capsizing luxury liner; she was surprised when the fall was interrupted as she jack-knifed like a gymnast around an outstretched arm.

“Gotcha,” using the cigarette and whisky marinated baritone to position herself, Starr slid her arm around the man’s waist, upwards along an impressively broad shoulders; all the while stepping slightly behind the him, her right hip setting as the fulcrum for her planned throw.

“The next call is ‘Swing your partner’ not ‘Fling your partner'”, laughing, he stepped slightly to the side, brought his left arm low and swept Starr off her feet only to set her down, standing to his side.

“Promenade home.” the caller’s final command left more questions than answers as the college-coed-turned-fugitive put her right hand on the man’s left forearm, feeling the muscles beneath the pearl-buttoned cuff of the intricately embroidered shirt; the decision that maybe this high-desert Arizona town might be the best place to lay low all but made.


TToT -the Wakefield Doctrine-

Welcome to the Wakefield Doctrine (the theory of clarks, scotts and rogers)

‘Words and dreams, the bounds to earth maintained.’
Una has my back as I wrestle with them words and such…
(landscape orientation)
A bunch of natural brown things, blonde-brown oak floors in the middle left. Caramel-brown desk (with a plain, white sheet of paper) in the upper middle left and to it’s left a row of drawers in a brown that seems to want be darker than it is.
The right half of the photo has a truncated upper half of an exclamation point. That is the back of the chair I’m sitting in. (I’m that pale checker board shape, my shoulders distinguishable by their practiced slope).
To my left, Una sits upright regarding the camera. She is a tall, black triangle with two smaller triangles at the top and the hint of red tongue. Her front paws are beige, the rug underneath her is a beige, light brown.

This writing thing is an odd affair. As with so many endeavors available to us as humans, putting thoughts in words and those words ‘on paper’, can be a very different experience from one person to another. The thing of it is, writing isn’t simply merely a skill. Driving a car, hitting a tennis ball, mowing the lawn, those are ‘merely’ a skill. As with most skills, writing requires a commitment of considerable amounts of time. However, if the goal of this practice is more than being able to write a better email at work or a coherent set of instructions for household chores, it demands an emotional investment. The returns (on this investment) are manifold; not always what one might hope, nearly always more than one expects.

Una and the blogosphere are Grat Items: 1&2

The song I stumbled across (below)… odd. It’s one that initially is intriguing but, with repeated listens, becomes quite enjoyable. I will claim two grat items, as permitted in SR 893.2[para H]* (i.e. finding the song and being willing to take the chance with such selection.) Grat Items 2.5 and 3

4) Grateful for the Wakefield Doctrine in its way of (aiding, assisting, pushing) and otherwise tricking me along the path of self-improvement. The danger referred to (above) is the danger of finding something, in this case, the song, appealing and assuming others will agree (not like approval has ever been much of a prerequisite for Doctrine post, lol.) For whatever reason, I’ve the feeling that this choice labels me as overly sentimental in my taste in music this week. Not the first time thats happened, but for whatever reason, the self-consciousness is a touch higher. ah well, with growth comes change and change is, be definition, the unfamiliar. Not like this is a public place that I be trying out things, right? lol.

5) Phyllis. The evening before Valentine’s Day, Phyllis says, “Tomorrows Valentine’s Day. Do we do anything for that anymore?” To which I replied, “I don’t think so.” I followed that with, “If you bought a card for Una, I’d sign it.” We both laughed and one of said, “And a new bone…she’d enjoy that.”**

6) That darn Doctrine! Referenced a couple of times above. It’s fun and its helpful for anyone working on self-improving themselves.

7) FREE GRAT ITEM (Space Available INQUIRE in COMMENTS Section)

From Friend of the Doctrine, Cynthia:

“I would like to propose that I’m grateful for Saturday nite call-ins. It’s the greatest Q & A “radio” show evah! Haha. And I’m grateful for the upcoming spring weather. The crocus are peeking out, our tulip leaves are poking out of the ground by several inches! It’s almost here, friends! Haha.”

8) Josie Two Shoes. Not only working hard so that the light is always on here, but now, preparing the html that allows us to have the icons of all participants at the bottom of our posts. Fun to see, easy to use. Now you can click on the others and comment while playing whatever music vid I am inspired to inflict on visitors.

9) Sunday Supplement

10) SR 1.3

(the song clips off at the end, if you hit the > again, it will continue to completion)


*  Secret Rule 893.2[para H]*  which states, in part: “…[w]hen the Title says Ten Things of Thankful, but the math works better if a single item might count as two or in alia manu (‘on the other hand’) you need two items to compress into one, then the requirements stated, (in) the Book of Secret Rules (aka the Secret Book of Rules) carry the day (‘die portray’); one is permitted to do that, provided the writer concludes with a sincere and convincing argumentum ad populum. that and a picture of like, books and stuff…

** A word about buying Una a card (and a bone) for Valentine’s Day. She’s a dog. Of course she doesn’t know about Valentine’s Day. I’ll go so far as to say, she doesn’t care about Valentine’s Day. It has zero significance. She is our dog and Phyllis and me laughing at the thought of buying a card for a dog does matter to her. Very much. The three of us are a pack. We don’t always share the same tastes in things. We always enjoy the company of each other.



Vanishing Sentence Friday -the Wakefield Doctrine-

Welcome to the Wakefield Doctrine (the theory of clarks, scotts and rogers)

sshh I’m considering writing this week’s Finish the Sentence Friday post. Its Stream of Consciousness week and you know how tricky that can be!

lol…what a difference an un-inspired night’s sleep can make! That, and stumbling upon the perfect photo.1

See what I mean?! I take Kristi and Kenya’s weekly invite quite seriously. (Since I’m pre-living an imaginary childolescence anyway, I do remember that friends are valuable and should be afforded one’s full attention.) Lets do our thing with the cut n paste machine and get this party started.

We’re on with FTSF this week with a 5-minute stream of consciousness and the prompt, “When it comes to this body…”

The linkup will be open tonight (Feb. 15, 2016) at 10pm eastern and remain open through late Sunday night.

Write your 5-minute post, slap in a photo (or not) and join us at either:


So hope to see you there! xoxo

So the only thing I have to ask myself is, do we go with 5-minutes at 10:19 pm or 5-minutes at 7:18 am2

“When it comes to this body…”

 ”                                                            …Gotta go with the morning SOC.”

You know how when there was an exam in school or a presentation at work or a parent-teacher conference that evening sometimes you’d stay up right to the last-minute pre-worrying? That’s kinda what my night writing tends to be… there’s something about writing, (for me), that does not co-exist well with the ‘real’ world. Sure, I can write in the evening, after a day in my real person disguise. But my mind is…not just tired, it’s burdened from a day spent standing up straight, maintaining eye contact, proving my worth and value to those around me. Ain’t no place for the clark what likes to write about Doctrines and perspectives and a world-that-should-be. (Of course, I assume that the writer I am, when away from the world of mature adults, is the preferred ‘voice’. Fortunately for me, the Wakefield Doctrine has helped me learn to accept that my decision is mine to make and whatever I decide is valid.)

Hey! five minutes are way up…. incoherency trumps rules and standards in writing prompts as much as it does in the rest of life.

Thanks for coming by!


1) and, and! as many of us here, in the ‘sphere, know all too well, the ‘perfect picture’ is not so much the one we succeeded in taking as part of an effort to provide photographic documentation in support of a thesis, theme, idea or mood. It’s the photo that jumps out of the pile and yells in your face, “Hey! You wanna express the coexistence of strong and decrepit? Did ya hope to for a portrayal of the multiple layers and levels of being a human? Hows about that business of reflection versus conscious self-appreciation?? Huh? Do ya?  Don’t go no further! This photo has it all!!” So you pick a photo that you haven’t looked at since you took it, too many years ago to remember and it whispers to you, “Sure, they’ll get it. How could they not? Give your readers some credit. …I’ll just sit on this page and not say a thing. good luck.  …err seeing how it’s on a post… maybe a hint about the car rear view mirror? and the decaying concrete? no, you’re fine the way it is…just sayin…Mr. Artsy. What? no, I didn’t say anything! Go on, hit ‘Publish’.

2) We went with the five minutes at 7:18 am. Despite what Footnote 1 seemed to insinuate, I do have a respect for the reader. So, surely there is a reader out there peering over the half-moon horizon of their morning coffee, thinking, “Wait a minute. You made a choice. How could you have made a choice if your didnt’ write at night. If you wrote at night doesn’t that count towards your five minutes?
you go me on that. and I did write last night… and I let it sleep that magical sleep of the ‘written-but-un-published-post’…. what the hell with the childhood fairy tales that we were secretly indoctrinated with, i.e. did the post somehow get better while I slept? What the hell kind of thinking is that?!! And speaking of ‘what the hell?!?!’ I thought what I’d written was excellent when I stopped last night. who snuck into my house/computer and turned my sincerely insightful post into this, …this whatever it is!?!?  Thanks, Brothers Grimm, Thanks a bunch, Mr Walt the Intolerant, (and no, I don’t almost believe thats Abe Lincoln! I can see the fricken cables running out of his foot)…thanks a lot for messing with my mind.

Here’s an excerpt of last night’s post. Submitted to validate my choice of a 7:18 am Post:

“it’s tricky. How is it I can say, ‘this body of mine, it’s old and breaking down all the time’ all impersonal pronoun and such. If I said, “My body, he’s really got some miles on it. I better go easy on him.” it sounds weird. So maybe I can talk about how the body is the ‘us’ that most of us never quite accept. It’s a form of me that is more than necessary and less than ideal but is the source of all that’s good and bad, pleasurable and painful. Surely that’s the same among bloggers and bloggerinae?


Six Sentence Story -the Wakefield Doctrine-

Welcome to the Wakefield Doctrine (the theory of clarks, scotts and rogers)

Early start. It’s Tuesday evening. The prompt word is ‘SMOKE’. The rules say, story of any style as long as it only requires Six (6) Sentences to tell. zoe is our host and this is the Six Sentence Story!

(from a WIP, ‘Home and Heart’ a Sister Margaret Ryan novel)


Alone in the front pew stood four women; three wore the habits of their Order, individual identity concentrated in a white-framed oval of flesh; the fourth bore the mark of age and loss, unassailable credentials for her place among the devout.

Sister Bernadine, Mother Superior of St. Dominique’s, stood at the aisle, her massive frame, softened by her black habit robes seemed a quiet protection, until one reached her eyes which, never-resting, removed all temptation to dismiss her as an overweight, middle-aged black woman; her right hand rested, immovable, on the pew rail, a stanchion should it be needed by the young woman to her right.

Standing between Sister Bernadine and her mother, Sister Margaret Ryan, novitiate at St. Dominique’s, stood as straight as any young willow tree, the shapelessness of her veil and habit hiding the swaying of her body as winds of rage and grief tore at her, only her eyes, blazing above tear-softened cheeks gave hint to the battle within. To Margaret Ryan’s right, her mother stood like the statue in some medieval religious festival, allowing others to move her from place to place, trusting that she was of use and value to the ceremony, standing as still as eighty-year-old bones permitted.

At the other end of the front pew was Sister Cletus who, if time is the measure of all, was now a ruler worn smooth of markers and measures, the form itself, still straight and true offering aid un-adorned of complication or apology.

Margaret Ryan watched as the Archbishop of Philadelphia stood between the casket holding Father Mathew Ryan, (brother and priest) and the altar, held the silver thurible over his head and let it swing; the pungent smoke rose, rivulets into tendrils, ever upwards, like a fairy tale creature, its wings and it’s magic torn by the morning sun fighting to escape the grip of the cold and rational earth.