Silver’s Book Reviews – “CATCHING FEATHERS IN THE WIND,” By Diane Hall

  • Title:  Catching Feathers in the Wind
  • Author: Diane Hall
  • File Size: 1090 KB
  • Print Length: 306 pages
  •  Publisher: Diane Hall; 3 edition
  • Publication Date: September 2, 2015
  • Sold by Amazon Digital Services LLC
  •  Language: English
  • ASIN:  B0145AT30S
  • ISBN-10: 0955973384
  • ISBN-13: 978-0955973383
  • Formats: Paperback and Kindle
  • Goodreads
  • Genres: Women’s Fiction, Romance, Religion, Spirituality, Humor

Do you believe in Angels?

Jayna is an Archangel who decides to incarnate back to Earth into a human form when her life in heaven leaves her yearning for something she just can’t put her finger on. Her existence on the celestial plane is filled with infinite love and harmonious co-creation as she teaches souls to fly to heaven. In this heavenly existence, Jayna murmurs inspirations into the ears of the world’s greatest artists, while dead musicians and renowned artists help her on her way to her last and final life event.

Jayna really seems to grapple with her decision to ascend to the highest level of cosmic consciousness. Eventually, after a series of challenging lifetimes she realizes she is ready to attain the final rung in the wheel of life. Just as nothing in human life is ever perfect, and during her last final lifetime, Jayna meets Stephen, whom she falls madly in love with. Prepare to be swept off your feet!

As Jayna’s human life spins crazily out of control on a predestined course, a series of events propels her to question her true existence as Stephen’s love continues to pull her towards the earthly realm. Through it all, Jayna shares with us her multi-dimensional life filled with love, life after death, reincarnation, and rebirth. Her tale is a love story that will have you not only believing in angels but believing in the reality of everlasting love.


Catching Feathers in the Wind is one of those rarely written phenomena that touch you and shake you to your very core. For me, it was a spiritual and emotional read that I could not put down. During the day when I was not reading, I found myself thinking about the philosophical elements in the story. The descriptions of heaven and angels filled my dreams. By the dawn of each new day, I awakened refreshed and renewed. Coincidence? I really don’t think so.

I also found the writing of the author, Diane Hall to be poetic and mesmerizing. At times, the prose took my breath away in explanations of divine and human existence that seemed so logical and concise I had to ask myself how it could be any other way.

This is a unique love story, one of which I have never read the likes of before. More than that, it is the story of true love and the many forms it imbues. Each of the characters experiences great sadness and despair but champions their way to find their true destiny. I connected with each of the characters in such a way, I just knew that I had met them before in another life.

By the end of the book, I felt like I had read the cosmic secrets of the universe. I felt like I had been given a special gift all tied up with a bow the color of sparkling stars. Ironically, I found this book on Facebook, part of a “free” campaign to introduce readers to the book. Wow! Was that ever my lucky day!

A visit to Diane Hall’s blog gives you a glimpse into the story with this excerpt: “Unseen Hands.” She also shares:

“An earlier edition of this book was very briefly known as Earth Angel, but has now undergone a huge revision and has been returned to its original title, of ‘Catching Feathers in the Wind.’ ~ A phrase used by one of the main characters, to describe the process of inspiration.”

I rarely give a five-star rating but when I do you know it has to be something spectacular! This is Diane Hall’s debut novel and I can’t wait to see what she writes next! If you are interested in spirituality and enjoy romance novels you will adore Catching Feathers in the Wind.

This is the kind of book that I will read over and over again knowing I will be touched by some different element each time I read it. I know one thing, your ideas about everlasting love will be forever changed!

Character Believability: 5
Flow and Pace: 5
Reader Engagement: 5
Reader Enrichment: 5
Reader Enjoyment: 5
Overall Rate: 5 out of 5 stars

About Diane Hall:

Diane Hall is an author and channel who writes novels, non-fiction, magazine features, comedy scripts, and songs about love, spirituality and the joyful challenges of communication between dimensions.

She is inspired by her guides and the angelic realm to create books that touch the heart with memories of Heaven. She is also a drama postgraduate with a passion for Shakespeare and Rumi, and a desire to bring a sense of fun to the genre of spiritual fiction. She is a singer/songwriter, a meditation and intuitive development teacher, and a recovering chocoholic.

As a freelance writer, she has contributed to a number of new thought publications and websites, including Soul & Spirit and Kindred Spirit magazines.

“My dream is to create a life-changing body of work  –  literary, musical and lyrical  –  that reaches many hearts and minds and brings peace, awakenings, love, learning, joy and ultimately, a Heaven on Earth.”


Make certain to connect with Diane Hall through Twitter @Channellinglove and Facebook at Diane Hall.

Thanks for stopping by today! I’m glad to see all of you.


RonovanWrites Weekly #Haiku #Poetry Prompt Challenge #45 Pitch & Time

Thanks for stopping by while you were in the neighborhood. I can’t wait to see you all again!

I love poetry and haiku

Check out more of my poetry and haiku by clicking this image on my blog!


“Edge of a Cliff,” by Anjana Pradeep

Please meet Anjana, who graciously accepted my invite to be guest blogger today.

I post short stories every Saturday and an article/non-fiction every Wednesday.
Make sure you check in. I am open to collabs and guest posts.
Contact me via email :

Without further ado, check out my stories by selecting “Fiction (Short Stories)” from the category or just click here.

To check out others select “Brain Rants” from categories of just click here.
Feel free to comment on any (or all) of my posts.


She stood there, at the edge of a cliff.

Green was all she saw. Miles and miles of continuous canopy, like it was all just one big tree. For days she stood there, waiting for a sign. A sign from the universe to tell her it was a mistake.

“What if there is no after life?

What if there is no heaven?

Or even worse, what if there is a heaven!

Will he still love her after all that she put him through?

Maybe he found someone better in heaven… she chuckled at her own silly thought.

He would never do that to her.

On this day two years ago, she stood in front of a tall shelf filled with old books as her mind secretly missed the big libraries in the city. “Twelfth night, or what you will by Shakespeare” were the golden letters on brown leather that gave her butterflies in her stomach. The old man that owned this book, died recently and now his son had taken over. She went to the counter to pay for the book and there he was in all his glory. He smiled at her, his blue eyes as deep as the ocean. Little did she know that he would be the one to make her walls come down.

But now, robbed of all the joys in life. She stood there, at the edge of a cliff. Waiting for a sign. A sign to tell her this was a mistake.

“He must be waiting for me in heaven.” Her mind wandered again.

It was 2 am in the morning. She was throwing things at him, yelling at him for coming home late and drunk. “It was an office party and I just couldn’t refuse. I am sorry honey. I swear I tried to reach here as soon as I could” he mumbled. “Yes, 2 am is very early! Did you forget that all our friends were coming over? Did you even for a minute consider the embarrassment you were putting me through by not showing up at our anniversary dinner?!” she burst into tears. “This is not the first time! Why do you keep doing this to me? I can’t take this anymore. I think we need to go our separate ways “. “But honey,” he started. “For God’s sake just leave me alone!” she screamed overcome with anger and despair.

He took his keys and walked towards the door. “I am sure you’ll change your mind in the morning” he said.

He never came back.

She stood there at the edge of a cliff. Holding the paper that had the report of the accident. The autopsy showed he was drunk and hence everyone blamed him for his own death. Some people went to the extent of saying that people like him deserved to die. What do they know? If only she had listened to him. If only she had swallowed her pride for a second. He would have been here, holding her in his arms.

A cold wind brushed her grief-stricken face. She was scared to go, but there was no sign that said she was wrong. It’s the right thing to do. It’s the only thing to do. I can’t live without him. I know he is waiting for me”. She let the wind carry her down.

The bright light was almost blinding. It was impossible to see. She felt his presence next to her. She opened her eyes. He smiled at her, his blue eyes as deep as the ocean.

Find Anjana on her blog, The Mental Picture and on Twitter.

“How, Then, Shall We Live?” by Tabitha Lord Jorgensen

I want to introduce you to Tabitha Lord, who cordially accepted my invitation to write a guest post while I am away on vacation.

Hi, I’m Tabitha.
I took a leap of faith and recently became a full-time writer. As I navigate this creative, exciting, and sometimes-exasperating world, I’d love to share my journey with you. I’m also married, have four great kids, and still teach a little, so I promise writing on various and sundry other topics. Let’s have a conversation about books, blog posts, kids or anything else you want to talk about. Life’s an adventure and I’d rather not travel alone!

I currently live in Rhode Island, a few towns away from where I grew up. In addition to my husband and four kids, I also have a spoiled, fluffy Ragdoll cat named Milo.

My degree is in Classics from College of the Holy Cross and I teach Latin at a small, independent Waldorf school. For years I also worked in the admissions office there before turning my attention to (mostly) full-time writing.

I’m a true New Englander, therefore an avid Red Sox fan, and I very much appreciate the versatile word “wicked.” 

When I sat down to write this blog, I had a very different theme in mind. It was light and funny and had to do with writing science fiction. But recent events are weighing heavily on me – earthquakes in Nepal, riots in Baltimore, executions in Indonesia, to name a few. It’s been a difficult week for planet earth and for humanity. Really, if we fast-forward a year, the places and events will be changed, but the essential human experience will be similar, complete with natural disasters, chaos, violence, and hatred. Sometimes it feels like our collective psyche is overwhelmed and nothing we do will make a difference. Our good intentions, words, and deeds are merely a drop of rain in a vast ocean of tears.

When the sorrow of others takes center stage, I am reminded of a question posed to my class (junior or senior year of college) as part of a yearlong reflective process. How, then, shall we live? It is a question for all ages, as relevant now as it was twenty, fifty, a hundred years ago. How, then, shall we live in the face of angry mobs and unforgiving regimes? How, then, shall we live when the earth moves and swallows thousands of people? How, then, shall we live with our own illnesses, heartaches, and personal tragedies? How do we create meaningful lives, filled with hope, when the world around us is as bleak as it ever was?

As the sun finally peeks out and the earth begins to warm up (I live in New England), my optimistic faith in humanity begs to resurface. I find myself meditating on this question once again, and the overarching thought that comes to mind is this: How we live is always a choice. Or, maybe more accurately: No matter the circumstances of our lives, we have a choice in how we respond. So I’ve modified the question a little, and now ask myself, “How, then, shall I choose to live?” And when I’m listening carefully, sometimes an answer appears.

I will choose kindness. An act of kindness, no matter how small, can be transformative. My third son is a baseball player. After his first Little League game last year, he was “called up” from AA to AAA. During one game, a little boy from his old team who had just finished playing on the adjacent field noticed RJ. He excitedly relayed to his dad, “RJ is a big guy and he got the call.” This little boy was chubby and short, wearing glasses as big as his face, and seemingly uncomfortable in his own skin. He’s the kind of kid you know will grow into himself one day, but is most likely having a tough time of it right now. He’s the kind of kid a mom wants to wrap in a hug and protect from the sometimes-cruel world. His sweet dad ruffled his hair and said, “You’re going to be a big guy someday too. Want to watch RJ for a little while?” They did. And at the end of the inning, my son caught sight of this little boy and jogged right to the fence to greet him. “Nice play RJ,” the boy said. And RJ answered, “It means a lot that you came to watch me play. Thanks so much, buddy.” The little boy beamed and I cried behind my sunglasses.

I will embrace my community and tend to my friendships. We humans are social creatures. We need each other. We need each other in times of celebration, but also in times of hardship or tragedy. I belong to two book clubs, a hiking group, and a dinner club. I belong because I love reading, hiking, and eating of course, but I belong because these people are part of my community. In book club, much of the time we discuss books, but we also care for each other during illnesses, support each other during crises, and celebrate each other’s successes. It’s the same with the hiking and dinner group. When I had my fourth child, a wonderful, exhausting, rather hazy time in my life, it was this community of family and friends who cooked my meals, drove my other children to their activities, and cleaned my house. When I have the opportunity to reciprocate for one of them, I do it with great joy.

Almost three years ago, an alumna from our school was killed in an accident. It was a gut wrenching, heart breaking tragedy that devastated our community. Her younger brother was still our student, and the family wanted to have her memorial at the school. The community came together to create a beautiful remembrance for this beautiful girl, and then continued to care for her family over the years. No amount of support can erase this kind of pain, but as a community we can and must help bear each other’s burdens.

I will leave room for redemption. I think perhaps the reason the executions in Indonesia sickened me so much is that it appeared the accused men had truly transformed their lives. They had committed a horrible crime, yes, but had also found a meaningful way to live beyond that crime. Mercy would have allowed good to come from something terrible. It would have allowed for healing instead of immeasurable and irrevocable loss. To give and receive forgiveness is a powerful and uniquely human experience. In our messy, complicated lives, we all require forgiveness. To forgive doesn’t mean to condone, but it does mean we’ve created an opening for redemption.

I will bear witness when I’m called. This is a hard one. When faced with a tragedy, we want to help. Our essential nature calls on us to fix, do, or say something meaningful. But sometimes, in the moment, we are powerless. Or maybe we aren’t. A few years ago I was the first person at the scene of a car accident. In the past I have worked as an EMT and in the Emergency Department of a large city hospital, so I always stop even though it’s not my calling anymore. This particular accident was as awful as any I’ve ever encountered. There was nothing to do for the dying victim. No amount of training or miracle of modern medicine was going to save him. When another person arrived on the scene, I made a decision to climb into the backseat of the car and just sit with my hand on the young man’s shoulder as he passed.

Later a friend convinced me I should reach out to the family – that it would be important for them to know what happened in this young man’s final moments. So I sent a sympathy card, and a few days later his wife called. I assured her that her husband was not alone when he passed and he hadn’t suffered. I commented on the softness of his sweater and the color of his hair, so she would know I was really present for him. I told her that all of us on the scene treated him with the care we would want for our own family members. And she said to me, “Thank you. I will tell our baby girl you witnessed his passing when she is old enough to ask.”

I will choose to see goodness in the world. It’s there. This week we adopted a dog from an animal rescue. When it was finally time to pick her up, we waited with a dozen other families in a parking lot for the “Rescue Road Trip” truck to arrive. This amazing team transports rescued pets from all over the country to their adoptive homes. When the animals arrived, nervous and shaking, but with tails wagging, we cheered for each other as we met our new furry family members. A young couple gently carried off a scruffy, scarred older dog, and a mom and daughter team scooped up a tiny pup that’d been abandoned for days at a service station.

Love showed up in that parking lot. And it shows up in far worse circumstances. Teams of aid workers left for Nepal, knowing their own lives could be at risk, and millions of people donated funds in support. When a young girl in our small state was tragically killed in a bus accident, anonymous strangers paid her funeral expenses within hours. In the cold of winter, there is no shortage of volunteers at our neighborhood food pantry and shelters.

It is easy to fall into despair over the state of our world. And in truth, many things are beyond our control. But if we choose to focus only on the darkness, we may miss the profound beauty, truth, compassion, and light that are just as much a part of the human condition as the sorrow.

How, then, shall we choose to live?


Find Tabitha on:

Tabitha Lord – It’s an Adventure




Ronovan’s Weekly Haiku Challenge–”Night & Breathe”


Daylight becomes night –

Entwined in your loving arms,

I breathe our banned love.

2014 © Copyright-All rights reserved

(Image credit: Romeo & Juliet)

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Check out Ronovan’s Weekly Haiku Challenge here.

Thanks for stopping by.  I look forward to our next visit.

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Autumn’s Last Gasp

2014-12-07 07.46.50

Autumn breathes the last gasps of the season,

as leaves of brown and gold drift from the treetops –

a blanket of decaying warmth.

Grey skies steal the color from the day,

mourning the end of another time of year.

The darkness envelopes and caresses

lulling the earth to sleep,

held in the cradle of the slough.

Winter awaits.

2014 © Copyright-All rights reserved

Thanks for stopping by to see me today. I always enjoy our visits.

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The Passing of Time

No Time to Waste

From the Daily Post 11/10/14 – Fill in the blank: “Life is too short to _____.”  Now, write a post telling us how you’ve come to that conclusion.

Today, in my neighborhood a murder was committed.  You can read about it here.  It made me realize that the precious commodity called life should never be taken away from us.  Time is the measurement that gauges how long we will live.  Life is too short to WASTE!  Hug your loved ones today – time is ticking!

Time Passages

Time is measured by the passing of a second,

An occasion, a moment, a period of time –

It is the steady ticking of a clock, the rhythm of a heart beat.

Time is scheduled, clocked, calculated,

Figured and re-figured for ways to acquire more time.

Time is a commodity, an article of trade for humankind.

Time is an era, an epoch, a generation –

Passing from birth to death, as time slowly creeps along,

while the wheel of life gradually trudges on.

The spiral of time –

GONE in the blink of an eye!

2014 © Copyright-All rights reserved


Thanks for checking in on me today.  I always look forward to your daily visit!

Silver Threading

Pixel Prose Challenge: The Weeping Lady

The Slough

The time of darkness is almost upon us,

as swirling fog, damp with moisture clings

to deep black silhouettes of trees

starkly lit by the greyness of the evening sky.

Night birds scatter – inky shadows flitting about

nearing the barren edges of the slough,

as falling leaves shower the grasses

stirring in the cool drafts of the night.

Darkness descends, a blanket of ebony gloom

enveloping and protecting, holding her tight

as the weeping lady sings lyrics dipped in fright

glorifying her impending doom.


(Photo credit: Ghost in the Forest)

2014 © Copyright-All rights reserved

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  1. Create a new post and title it Pixel Prose Challenge + your post title
  2. Tag your post Pixel Prose Challenge
  3. If you create your entry on other social media sites, (or share your post to them) the hash tag is #pixelprosechallenge
  4. Link your post URL to the inLinkz grid, selecting your inspired photo/feature image.
  5. Copy and paste the inlinkz code in your own post
  6. Display the Pixel Prose logo on your post or sidebar

I hope you enjoyed my scary poem just in time for Halloween.  I can’t wait to scare see you again,

Silver Threading

The Leaving


I cried when you made the choice to leave.

I knew when you were gone it would be hard to see you again –

ever in that same way.

I let you go like silken strands slipping from my waiting arms

blowing in the heavy air.

I knew our time was past, our days were gone.  We were through.

I sighed and let the memories of you flow like a gentle rain

all tears and forever pain.

2014 © Copyright-All rights reserved

Thanks for visiting.  It is always a pleasure to spend some time with you!

Silver Threading

Stream of Consciousness Writing

Blogging U 9.14

I have been participating in a Stream of Consciousness Saturday writing session for a couple of months now on my blog so, you can imagine my delight when I found out that our first assignment in Writing 101 was to free-write for a 20 minute session.

I especially like this type of writing because it lets your mind drift to different ideas or to concentrate on a particular subject.  It is all up to the writer at that point.  I find that I am an emotional writer.  I tend to mirror events I have seen, read or watched in a movie or television show in my stream of consciousness writings.  If I am given a specific prompt then I follow that of course.

For example,  I adore the television show called, “Hell On Wheels.”  It is a fairly realistic depiction of the Union Pacific Railroad construction during the 1860’s or early 1870’s in America.  We are currently in the third season of the show.  The happenings of Saturday night’s broadcast are with me still, even though today is Monday.

Season One was spent getting to know the characters and the plot of the series.  Season Two delved deeply into the characters and their relationships between each other.  I have always been struck with the realization of just how tough it was to live in those days.  I do not know if I would have survived such hardships, however I am looking at myself now in the future instead if I had been born back then.  Anyway you look at it – life was precious then and now.

On Saturday night, the main character, Cullen Bohannon, was reunited with his friend, Elam Ferguson, a black man, a Free man.  The two men had fought together, against each other, and for each other, in many hair-raising situations.  By the end of Season Two, Bohannon and Elam were looking for each other in the wilderness after being separated.  Both were close to death.

Bohannon was found by a group of Mormons who brought him to their Fort and saved his life.  Elam was left wandering looking for Bohannon when suddenly he was attacked by a bear.  A terrible grisly scene took place with Elam appearing to be dead at the end of Season Two.

Cullen Bohannon

Well into Season Three it is revealed that Elam was rescued by a tribe of Native Americans who found him partially alive while the bear was found dead, killed by Elam.  The interesting part of all of this is the fact that the Native Americans wanted to heal Elam because they believed that since he had killed the bear single-handedly he would then possess  the power of the bear within himself.  Elam would be a powerful warrior with this power.

Elam is healed by the tribe.  However, he is damaged mentally and physically by the bear attack.  He suffers from horrific headaches that seem to possess his mind.  Elam then kills the son of the Tribal Chief and leaves the safety of the tribe taking two Native American Women and one captured white woman with him.  He is intent on selling them as slaves even though the Anti Slavery Act had already been declared and slavery was now outlawed.


Elam and the women make their way into Cheyenne, WY where the Union Pacific railway is being built.  Cullen finds Elam and realizes that he is not right in the head any longer.  He tries to persuade him to not go through with trying to sell the women, but Elam refuses.  Elam does not even recognize Cullen.

The crisis ensues when Cullen tries to stop Elam and they engage in a knife fight.  Cullen tries to stop Elam during the fight.  Elam is suffering with stabbing pains in his head during this battle.  He has injured Cullen twice and finally as a last resort, Cullen shoots him in the head.

Cullen buries Elam in the cemetery near the town of Cheyenne.  The end of the show leaves us with Cullen crying over the loss of his best friend.  The men had been like brothers even though before the Civil War, Cullen had been a slave owner from Mississippi.

I could feel the horror of Cullen’s deed as he sobbed and shouted his despair to the open prairies stretching before him as he cried on Elam’s casket.  I can still feel it now.

Thank for visiting.  As always, I enjoy visiting with you.

Silver Threading