Albert Einstein became one of the greatest minds of the 20th century because he had a dream. And no matter the bullying, family leaving him, teachers not supporting him, he never lost his vision to know what time and light is. I know because, as a child, Albert and I became best friends.
My Name is Johann Thomas. Albert’s quest began when we discovered his compass was supernatural. We were shocked when the brass top with the twelve gems lit up like a Christmas tree. Oh my God. Then his compass started to put us both in danger.
A shape-shifting dragon named Raka longed for the compass and had me killed. Then, I woke up in heaven with angels.
Supernatural beings asked me to be Albert’s guardian angel to help Albert fight the darkness. How could I say no? So, we traveled back through time to Atlantis to meet the dragon’s brother, Arka. We discovered Albert’s soul was from Arka, a brilliant priest scientist. Arka warned Albert of his brother’s lust for power and how to protect Albert with his compass. Albert returned home to face the dragon. Then the compass helped inspire him. He found his dream and discovered time, light, and relativity. The compass helped forge Albert’s destiny. His life was a thrilling ride of adventure through time and multiple dimensions of light.

Einstein’s Compass a YA Time Traveler Adventure Buy on Amazon Now

Einstein’s Compass a YA Time Traveler Adventure

Chapter – Albert’s Solves Pythagorean Theorem

“Wow, did your pet goldfish die or something, Albert? You look terrible!” Johann shook his head in disapproval as his friend led him through the front door.

Despite himself, Albert had to smile at Johann’s cheerfulness. “Ah, I’m just stuck on a problem and don’t know how to get out of it.” Albert waved his arm as if to brush away his vexation. He was still hiding his mission and didn’t even want his good friend to know what he was pursuing. Albert ushered Johann into the parlor. “My mother thinks taking a break will help. We need to practice for the recital, anyway.”

Used to Albert’s moods, Johann nodded. “Okay, I can practice for an hour. My father needs me at the alehouse to help serve the evening meal.” He wiped his hands on his lederhosen and sat on the wooden piano bench, his legs stuffed under the piano, and shuffled the sheet music on the music stand. Albert had already memorized the piece, so he readied his violin as he stood next to Johann.

After fifteen minutes of stops and starts to refine their duet, the notes sparkled. The music’s sweetness began to seep into Albert’s troubled heart. He closed his eyes and, like fireworks, a burst of triangles within the notes flew in rhythm across his violin. His imagination blossomed and flowed with innovative ideas as Albert opened to new dimensions inside himself.

After another thirty minutes of playing, Albert had regained a sense of peace—as well as a new enthusiasm for his project. Albert began to fidget with his brow. He urged Johann to his feet and helped him on with his jacket. “It’s good, Johann, we’re ready for our recital,” Albert pronounced, propelling Johann to the door.

Attempting to straighten his jacket amid the hustle, Johann said, “Well, I guess we are ready.” Then Johann dug in his feet and turned to Albert, hiding a grin. “But are you sure you wouldn’t like to practice a few more times? I could stay a couple more minutes…”

“No, no, I am certain we are ready. Hurry up now, I don’t want you to be late for work,” Albert replied, almost slamming the door shut and utterly oblivious to the fact that Johann knew precisely what Albert was up to. On the porch, Johann smiled and shook his head as he turned to walk back to the alehouse. He had grown to love Albert and, truth be told, he was happy that his friend had regained his happiness.

With the breakthrough in awareness, he had gained when he and Johann had been playing the Mozart piece, Albert became more confident as he worked over the next days. And with confidence came serenity. The boy would awaken each morning with awareness of the music of the Pythagorean theorem dancing in his imagination. It was as if he was viewing the mathematics of it in its completeness from high above. And he knew he would find its temporarily elusive proof.

Early Man Can Talk. Change My Mind

In Natural Selection, Book 3 of the trilogy Dawn of Humanity and the sixth book in the Man vs. Nature series, the characters communicate often but rarely with voices. Instead, they mostly rely on hand gestures, body movements, and facial expressions. Some would say this meant they were primitive, unable to fully share thoughts, but it showed they had adapted to a dangerous environment where unusual sounds were the enemy. Here’s why.

I’ll be honest. How well early man could share thoughts is not settled science. No one questions their ability to hiss, squeak, howl, and bark in some early approximation of speech. The difference in opinions comes from whether the physiology of their evolving brain allowed for the sophisticated speech used by modern humans, one filled with verbs, nouns, and symbolism. The mushy, tissue-y brain doesn’t preserve decades much less 2 million years. Nor does the floating ‘hyoid’ bone in the throat that is critical to speech.

Even if that weren’t the case, why would they want to be noisy communicators when non-voice methods provided everything required for their daily existence. Their world was treacherous. Why would our ancestors, already poorly defended by weak claws, flat teeth, small size, and thin skin choose to “talk” with unnatural sounds when they were surrounded by predators who would like nothing better than to eat them? Logically, wouldn’t they choose something quieter and more functional? Have you been around someone who doesn’t speak your language yet the two of you communicate via hand gestures, body movements, and facial expressions? Think of American Sign Language and its sister non-spoken languages throughout the world. Once you learn this system of body movements, everything is said without words. No one misses anything.

Here’s what I think: Early man like my character Lucy and her tribe communicated ideas well without voices by using body language.

What are your experiences with communicating without voice? Share your stories with readers in the comments.

Summary

 In this conclusion to Lucy’s journey, she and her tribe leave their good home to rescue former-tribemembers captured by the enemy. Lucy’s tribe includes a mix of species–a Canis, a Homotherium, and different iterations of early man. In this book, more join and some die, but that is the nature of prehistoric life, where survival depends on a combination of our developing intellect and our inexhaustible will to live. Each species brings unique skills to this task. Based on true events.

 Set 1.8 million years ago in Africa, Lucy and her tribe struggle against the harsh reality of a world ruled by nature, where predators stalk them and a violent new species of man threatens to destroy their world. Only by changing can they prevail. If you ever wondered how earliest man survived but couldn’t get through the academic discussions, this book is for you. Prepare to see this violent and beautiful world in a way you never imagined.

 A perfect book for fans of Jean Auel and the Gears!

 Book information:

 Title and author: Natural Selection by Jacqui Murray

Series: Book 3 in the Dawn of Humanity series

Genre: Prehistoric fiction

Editor: Anneli Purchase

Available print or digital) at: http://a-fwd.com/asin=B0B9KPM5BW

 Author bio:

Jacqui Murray is the author of the popular prehistoric fiction saga, Man vs. Nature which explores seminal events in man’s evolution one trilogy at a time. She is also author of the Rowe-Delamagente thrillers and Building a Midshipman , the story of her daughter’s journey from high school to United States Naval Academy. Her non-fiction includes over a hundred books on integrating tech into education, reviews as an Amazon Vine Voice,  a columnist for NEA Today, and a freelance journalist on tech ed topics.

 Social Media contacts:

 Amazon Author Page:         https://www.amazon.com/Jacqui-Murray/e/B002E78CQQ/

Blog:                                        https://worddreams.wordpress.com

Instagram:                              https://www.instagram.com/jacquimurraywriter/

Pinterest:                                http://pinterest.com/askatechteacher

Twitter:                                    http://twitter.com/worddreams

Website:                                 https://jacquimurray.net

 Book trailer: https://youtu.be/jZhlvou9hvg

Excerpt:

Chapter 1

One Pack Ends, Another Begins

 Africa  

The Canis’ packmates were all dead, each crumpled in a smeared puddle of blood, Upright killing sticks embedded where they should never be. His body shook, but he remembered his training. The killers’ scent filled the air. If they saw him—heard him—they would come for him, too, and he must survive. He was the last of his pack.

He padded quietly through the bodies, paused at his mate, broken, eyes open, tongue out, pup under her chest, his head crushed. A moan slipped from his muzzle and spread around him. He swallowed what remained in his mouth. Without a pack, silence was his only protection. He knew to be quiet, but today, now, failed.

To his horror, a departing Upright looked back, face covered in Canis blood, meaty shreds dripping from his mouth, the body of a dead pup slung over his shoulder. The Canis sank into the brittle grass and froze. The Upright scanned the massacre, saw the Canis’ lifeless body, thought him dead like the rest of the decimated pack. Satisfied, he turned away and rushed after his departing tribe. The Canis waited until the Upright was out of sight before cautiously rising and backing away from the onslaught, eyes on the vanished predators in case they changed their minds.

And fell.

He had planned to descend into the gully behind him. Sun’s shadows were already covering it in darkness which would hide him for the night, but he had gauged his position wrong. Suddenly, earth disappeared beneath his huge paws. He tried to scrabble to solid ground, but his weight and size worked against him and he tumbled down the steep slope. The loose gravel made gripping impossible, but he dug his claws in anyway, whining once when his shoulder slammed into a rock, and again when his head bounced off a tree stump. Pain tore through his ear as flesh ripped, dangling in shreds as it slapped the ground. He kept his legs as close as possible to his body and head tucked, thankful this hill ended in a flat field, not a river.

Or a cliff.

When it finally leveled out, he scrambled to his paws, managed to ignore the white-hot spikes shrieking through his head as he spread his legs wide. Blood wafted across his muzzle. He didn’t realize it was his until the tart globs dripped down his face and plopped to the ground beneath his quaking chest. The injured animal odor, raw flesh and fresh blood, drew predators. In a pack, his mate would purge it by licking the wound. She would pronounce him Ragged-ear, the survivor.

Ragged-ear is a strong name. A good one.

He panted, tail sweeping side to side, and his indomitable spirit re-emerged.

I live.

But no one else in his pack did.

Except, maybe, the female called White-streak. She often traveled alone, even when told not to. If she was away during the raid, she may have escaped. He would find her. Together, they would start over.

Ragged-ear shook, dislodging the grit and twigs from his now-grungy fur. That done, he sniffed out White-streak’s odor, discovered she had also descended here. His injuries forced him to limp and blood dripping from his tattered ear obstructed his sight. He stumbled trying to leap over a crack and fell into the fissure. Fire shot through his shoulder, exploded up his neck and down his chest. Normally, that jump was easy. He clambered up its crumbling far wall, breaking several of his yellowed claws.

All of that he ignored because it didn’t matter to his goal.

Daylight came and went as he followed White-streak, out of a forest onto dry savannah that was nothing like his homeland.

Why did she go here?

He embraced the tenderness that pulsed throughout his usually-limber body. It kept him angry and that made him vicious. He picked his way across streams stepping carefully on smooth stones, their damp surfaces slippery from the recent heavy rain, ignoring whoever hammered with a sharp rock inside his head. His thinking was fuzzy, but he didn’t slow. Survival was more important than comfort, or rest.

Ragged-ear stopped abruptly, nose up, sniffing. What had alerted him? Chest pounding, breathing shallow, he studied the forest that blocked his path, seeking anything that shouldn’t be there.

But the throbbing in his head made him miss Megantereon.

Ragged-ear padded forward, slowly, toward the first tree, leaving only the lightest of trails, the voice of Mother in his head.

Yes, your fur color matches the dry stalks, but the grass sways when you move. That gives away your location so always pay attention.

His hackles stiffened and he snarled, out of instinct, not because he saw Megantereon. Its shadowy hiding place was too dark for Ragged-ear’s still-fuzzy thinking. The She-cat should have waited for Ragged-ear to come closer, but she was hungry, or eager, or some other reason, and sprang. Her distance gave the Canis time to back pedal, protecting his soft underbelly from her attack. Ragged-ear was expert at escaping, but his stomach spasmed and he lurched to a stop with a yowl of pain. Megantereon’s next leap would land her on Ragged-ear, but to the Canis’ surprise, the She-cat staggered to a stop, and then howled.

While she had been stalking Ragged-ear, a giant Snake had been stalking her. When she prepared her death leap, Snake dropped to her back and began to wrap itself around her chest. With massive coils the size of Megantereon’s leg, trying to squirm away did no good.

Ragged-ear tried to run, but his legs buckled. Megantereon didn’t care because she now fought a rival that always won. The She-cat’s wails grew softer and then silent. Ragged-ear tasted her death as he dragged himself into a hole at the base of an old tree, as far as possible from scavengers who would be drawn to the feast.

He awoke with Sun’s light, tried to stand, but his legs again folded. Ragged-ear remained in the hole, eyes closed, curled around himself to protect his vulnerable stomach, his tail tickling his nose, comforting.

He survived the Upright’s assault because they deemed him dead. He would not allow them to be right.

Sun came and went. Ragged-ear consumed anything he could find, even eggs, offal, and long-dead carcasses his pack normally avoided. His legs improved until he could chase rats, fat round ground birds, and moles, a welcome addition to his diet. Sometimes, he vomited what he ate and swallowed it again. The day came he once again set out after what remained of his pack, his pace more sluggish than prior to the attack, but quick enough for safety.

Ragged-ear picked up the female’s scent again and tracked her to another den. He slept there for the night and repeated his hunt the next day and the next. When he couldn’t find her trace, instinct drove him and memories of the dying howls of his pack, from the adults who trusted their Alpha Ragged-ear to protect them to the whelps who didn’t understand the presence of evil in their bright world.

Everywhere he traveled, when he crossed paths with an Upright, it was their final battle.

Munich celebrates the marriage of King Ludwig and Princess Luise which happened in 1894, every October with a sixteen-day party called Oktoberfest.
Albert’s father and uncle had just installed the first electric light bulbs in the tents for the festival. The teenager was excited to see the tents in light. I thought having an Oktoberfest in the story would add to Munich’s history and give Albert an opportunity to show us what the party would look like back then. We find Albert meeting his best friend Johann in the Munich Brau Beer tent where German food, music, and dancing collide with our hero’s nemesis Werner Von Weisel. I liked the way Albert danced with Mileva, who much later in time would become his wife. #followme on #Bublish to receive new book bubbles #light #timetravel #kindle $.99

Einstein’s Compass a YA Time Traveler Adventure Buy on Amazon Now

Einstein’s Compass a YA Time Traveler Adventure

September 1894
Oktoberfest

A crisp west wind blew away the last days of September 1894 and hailed in the 16-day annual folk festival known as Oktoberfest. The first Oktoberfest was held on October 12, 1810, when all the citizens of Munich were invited to attend the wedding party of King Ludwig I as he married Princess Therese Charlotte Luise of Saxony-Hildburghausen. The event was such a success it stuck, and Oktoberfest became a favorite annual celebration.

Wearing lederhosen and his favorite emerald-green alpine wool hat, sixteen-year-old Albert strolled into the fairgrounds. He’d been saving his appetite for the afternoon feast, and his stomach was growling in anticipation. Festive, tent-like canopies dotted the grounds, and Albert inhaled the enticing scents of dumplings baking in huge pans, chickens roasting on spits, and sausages sizzling in their juices. Albert’s eyes widened at the abundance of Bavarian delicacies, and his stomach rumbled again.

Twilight was slowly descending across the sea of colorful tents, which were lit with the still novel electric light bulbs. A week before, as an assistant in the family-owned electrical company Elektrotechnische Fabrik J. Einstein & Cie., Albert had mounted the light bulbs in the Schotte Hamel marquee.

The excited teenager made his way past the Hippodrome, which had magically been transformed from a horse-racing track into a dance hall. The sweet smell of the fresh, bracing autumn air was filled with the screaming, hooting, and shouting of the revelers, underscored by the joyous sounds of a sprightly polka band. Outside the large, ornate building, families in their festive best chatted animatedly with neighbors waiting in line with them.

The crunch of fallen red and gold leaves under his feet, Albert whistled under his breath as he made his way to the far west end of the fairground. A new exhibit hosted by Munich Brau featured a competition for the best crossbowman. Near the Munich Brau beer wagon, Albert found Johann setting up the targets. “Hey, Johann, do you need any help?” Albert shouted above the chatter and music.

Johann, in a sweaty white peasant shirt and lederhosen, turned around. “Albert! You made it!” He gave his friend a brotherly hug.

“Wouldn’t miss Oktoberfest,” Albert replied with mock indignation.

“Thanks for stopping by our tent. My father has invested a lot of money in the crossbow contest, so I’m just finishing up here. You go on inside. I’ll catch up with you soon.”

Albert waved goodbye and headed into the Munich Brau pavilion. A wooden dance floor covered the center of the pagoda-style tent that measured fifty feet square. Rows and rows of tables and benches lined the sides. On planks at the far south side of the party room, plate after plate of fresh bratwurst and mugs of frosty beer beckoned.

“I’m starved,” Albert said to himself and strode purposefully toward the food table. Suddenly, someone thrust their foot into the crowded aisle and sent Albert sprawling into the dirty straw that covered the floor. Albert could hear the derisive laughter, as he hoisted himself to his feet. Brushing the straw from his clothing, he found himself face-to-face with Werner von Wiesel.

“Walk much, clumsy?” the bully sneered, “and look at that stupid hat!” Werner backhanded Albert’s goat-hair cap from his head.

“That’s enough, Werner,” shouted a stout man dressed in a white apron and balancing a large platter brimming with hot sausage. It was Johann’s father, Frederick Thomas, “This is not sportsmanlike conduct. I will pull you from the crossbow competition if you continue to behave like this.”

Albert glared at the bully and brushed sawdust from the cap. Werner, all innocence, looked hurt as he responded to the man. “Me? I didn’t do anything.” Werner glanced at a nearby table for support from his father, a retired Prussian colonel who had served in the German Army under Bismarck. But between bites of bratwurst and swallows of cold beer, the senior Von Wiesel was chatting with friends and missed his son’s performance. Werner shrugged and strode off toward the food table as if Albert were beneath his notice.

Shaking his head at Werner’s audacity, Herr Thomas turned to Albert and offered him a plate of sausages. “I’m sorry for that, Albert. You did an excellent job installing the electric lights. Now enjoy what we do best.”

Albert’s mouth watered as he inhaled the savory, steaming sausages. He accepted the plate gratefully and walked to a table near the six-piece band. He snagged a frosty mug of beer from the beer wagon along the way. The musicians were tuning their instruments as a group of dancers waited for the music to start. He set the platter onto the table and proceeded to pile a couple of sausages onto one of the clean plates arranged along the table’s edge. At a nearby table, a young dark-haired girl smiled at Albert. Albert blushed a little and smiled back.

The encounter with Werner had not diminished Albert’s appetite, and he turned his attention to the steaming sausages in front of him. Before long, his plate was clean and the mug empty. Sated, Albert relaxed back into his chair and closed his eyes. Should I stay or go? There are many tents in which to enjoy the festivities. If I open my eyes, will Werner be gone? Then, he grimaced. If I leave, will he follow me? The accordion wheezed to life, and the drum began beating the tempo for a lively polka. Albert felt the music, opened his eyes, and joined in singing with the enthusiastic crowd. He clapped his hands and watched the band.

Johann’s mother, Christine, her ginger hair tucked under a white cap, tapped Albert’s shoulder, and pointed to the young fräulein who had smiled at Albert earlier. “Albert, please dance with Mileva. She is the daughter of a lovely family we met. They’re visiting from Austro-Hungary.”

Albert gazed shyly at the delicate beauty at the next table. She smiled demurely and then looked down. Albert plucked up a bit of courage from somewhere and hesitantly asked, “Um, hi. Would you like to, uh, dance?”

Mileva nodded, and the two stood so Albert could lead the dainty Fräulein to the dance floor. What a beautiful girl, he thought as he glanced sideways to take a surreptitious look. Taking their positions on the dance floor, Albert held Mileva like a porcelain doll. Despite his shyness, he was an accomplished dancer, handily navigating through the many couples on the floor. Mileva’s bright-blue eyes twinkled with delight as Albert masterfully guided her to the strains of Strauss’s “Blue Danube Waltz.”

After a few dances, Albert returned his partner to her seat. As he turned to go back to his table, Mileva put her hand on his arm. “Please join me,” she said, looking up into his eyes. Albert just makes the drinking age of sixteen in Germany. Albert gulped and nodded, settling into a chair next to the young girl. He motioned to a passing hostess carrying a tray with mugs of beer. “Mileva, would you like something to drink?”

“That would be lovely.” Mileva smiled.

As the hostess set two mugs on the table, she knocked a cardboard coaster to the ground. As Albert bent to pick it up, an arrow streaked past her, flying through the crown of Albert’s hat, and knocking it off his head. Albert flinched, jarring the table and knocking over one of the mugs of beer. The frothy brew spilled over the edge of the table right into his overturned hat.

Mileva was enraged. “Who would do something like this?”

Albert put on a brave smile as he leaned over, picked up his hat and the arrow that had embedded itself in the straw-covered dirt floor. He shook the last wisps of foam out of his hat. “I’m sure it’s nothing. Just an accident.” Placing his hat on the table, he looked directly into Mileva’s beautiful eyes and smiled. “Or maybe Cupid has shot his arrow.”

Mileva blushed and looked down at the table.

“But, seriously,” Albert continued, breaking the mood, “please don’t say anything to anyone about this.”

“I won’t, if you don’t want me to,” Mileva agreed.

Albert scanned the crowd for Werner, who was nowhere to be seen. With Mileva watching quietly, Albert studied the arrow. It was small, as if from a child’s bow. Turning it in his fingers, he noticed a “WvW” burnished on the wood. Albert wondered how anyone could be so stupid as to pull such a prank with their initials carved into the arrow. But then, Werner had never been the brightest bulb on the string, Albert thought.

Scanning the room again, Albert spotted Herr Thomas on the far side of the tent, pouring a endless stream of frothy beer into mugs. Albert considered whether he should take the arrow to him. If he did, Werner would be expelled from the crossbow competition, and suspended from school. This is neither the time nor the place, Albert sighed, looking at the crowds around Herr Thomas. But it won’t do to stay here, either.

Beer-soaked hat in his left hand, Albert held out his right hand and bowed. “I’m sorry, Mileva, but I need to… uh, tend to something at my home.”

Unable to hide her disappointment, Mileva clasped his hand. “I’m sorry you have to leave so soon.”

“Me, too,” Albert said, his natural shyness coming to the fore. “I… um… really enjoyed dancing with you.”

Mileva brightened a little. “Me too. I’ll see you again while I’m here… or sometime?” she said, tilting her head quizzically.

“I… I’d really like that,” Albert turned hastily, slipped the arrow under his jacket, and made his way through the crowd and out of the tent.

5.0 out of 5 stars an easy guide to taking charge of your life and fixing personal problems
Reviewed in the United States on July 24, 2022
I don’t often read self-help books but I’m a fan of Grace Blair’s. She wrote an earlier one (Do You Have a Dream) which I enjoyed and then Einstein’s Compass which I fell in love with (fiction–nothing to do with solving personal problems). 5 Mystic Keys to Courage, Confidence, Creativity (2022) is a straightforward guide to taking charge of your life and fixing personal problems. Based on common sense and requiring a will to change, I found this to be a good approach with fresh ideas drawn from Grace’s own life experience. Despite difficult challenges that would defeat many, she refused to quit and turned these into an engine for achievement by focusing on faith and spiritual strength.

“When life gives me a plot twist, I have a map…”

She breaks 5 Mystic Keys into seven sections–

If at first you don’t succeed, change the rules
Do you need to be rescued
Do you believe in God
Emotions + Energy in Motion
What are your boundaries
What are priorities
What is the value of prayer

Each includes insightful ideas like ‘Trust your intuition’, ‘Value your creativity’, and ‘Experience your soul’s dreams’. Once you absorb these, she shares the 5 Mystic Keys (you’ll have to buy the book for that reveal). Supporting these is her personal story and meaningful quotes from spiritual advisors:

“God is not the bellhop in the sky to deliver every whim or wish.”

“Every intention sets energy into motion. Whether you are conscious of it or not.” –Gary Zukav

It’s a fast read or a slow one, depending upon where you need help and unlike other fix-me books you may have read. Highly recommended to those who feel let down by the world and in need of a special touch.

https://www.amazon.com/Mystic-Keys-Courage…/dp/0998830836