Monthly Archives: October 2012

Higher Altitudes

As you are aware, these posts are as much about unearthing that which dwells in you as they are about unearthing that which dwells in me. One can have no hope of confronting, repairing, undoing, healing or transforming that which they are unwilling to identify. Through my spotlight, my hope is that we both are allowed to see the previously hidden parts within ourselves – the good and that which could stand a bit of tweaking.

Something has been nagging me as of late. In addition to my writing; the children’s books, novels, blog posts of mine and those I do for others; I do a great deal of studying. I am enormously curious about psychology, sociology, metaphysics, neuroscience, spirituality and philosophy. No doubt, that is why many of my posts weigh heavily in those areas.

What I’ve found is that humans need to get excited. It’s very much like vitamin C for the emotional body. Happiness is inherently connected with excitement, and both are vital to one’s well being. Enter what nags me: I rarely allow myself to get excited. I keep myself detached from this particular emotion. Since making this discovery, my knowledge on the subject won’t allow me to sweep it under the rug.

I’m not one to blame anyone but myself for the makings of who I am. Although my parents firmly laid the first few stones for the foundation of my stoic detachment, they aren’t to blame. It is up to me to get rid of any stones I know are misplaced. I will admit, upon first prying I found these to be surprisingly heavy stones. Most likely, after so much time, they are well imbedded into the ground. But not impossible to move. My parents raised my brother and me with the clear understanding that we shouldn’t get too excited because something disappointing is bound to happen soon after.  Or, that the act of being excited works as a sign; signaling disappointment to make its appearance.

I have lived with this belief all my life. You see – I absolutely, without question, can’t stand the feeling of disappointment. As I’ve mentioned before, I will do almost anything to avoid it. So, I motor through life with my emotions restrained. I pull back whenever something nudges me to get excited. We all condition ourselves based on our history. And what I’ve found is that disappointment feels ten times worse when one is excited. In other words, when we allow ourselves to get excited it’s very much like reaching an elevated level. We are, in essence, high on life for the moment. Disappointment, when it kicks, causes us to fall from whatever level. If high, the descent is like free-falling from a plane versus merely falling while already standing on the ground. Due to such, I keep my emotional feet planted in the grass. I do this in all aspects of my life. Although in some areas this is a good thing, as I’m not prone to outbursts. On the flip side, I cheat myself of the thrill of excitement. And excitement has more to do with what might be, than what already is. Excitement, for the most part, lives within what may happen.

Not only am I disallowing myself the exhilarating moment of being high, breathing the invigorating air held at that altitude, but I’m very likely setting myself up for the disappointment I’m trying to avoid. If excitement is the fuel that moves us in the direction in which we want to travel, I am continually letting my car sit in the garage. Granted, my car is well protected. But its also useless unless – used. Does disappointment hurt less when one is already half expecting it – yes. But I can’t help but to believe that on some level, in some way, half expecting it helps bring it about.

Many things in life have proven to be a disappointment, but I don’t need to be one of those things that disappoints me. I am unfathomably protective of my emotions, but disallowing myself the simple joy of expectant excitement does not reveal my incredible strength, it reveals my weakness. So, with that, I will back my car out of the garage. And after perilously trekking to a high altitude I plan to inhale deeply for as long as I can. If I am kicked back down, then so be it. History has also shown me to be rather resilient. Or maybe, just by virtue of allowing myself to stand on a higher emotional plateau, I will be signaling that which I am wanting.


Listening to The Airborne Toxic Event – Sometime Around Midnight (A simply beautiful song)

Farmers Only

Well I’ll be damned. There’s now an online dating site dedicated solely for farm people. I wonder if they’d ever make such a site for writers?

As many of you know, I’m a curious cat. So yes – I did visit this Farmers Only dating website. But it seems one has to sign up; certifying they are over eighteen, own some livestock and agree to the terms and conditions. I’m being facetious. I apologize.

As I viewed the home page, with its small profile pics stacked one on top of the other, many wearing cowboy hats, I had to wonder what such a site would look like if it were for writers. Would we all be wearing glasses, like I am now? Would there be the random monocle? Would it show anyone with their shoulders so tight their head was about to pop clean off their neck? Or being a profile pic, would there be staged poses; elbow on knee, chin on fist. Respectable. Solid.

And God only knows what kind of personality questions one would have to answer. How often do you use your computer’s thesaurus? Can you spell restaurant without pausing midway? Do you dangle your participles?

Of course, the site would quickly separate the fiction writers from the non fiction. That’s a given. Or does it not work like that? Is there harmony found in pairing one up with their opposite. I think there is, as long as its not too extreme. In fact, I know for certain I do not want to date me. I talk to me every blasted day, why would I want to listen to someone similar to me anymore than I already do. I remember long conversations I once had with someone, months ago; I loved listening to them prattle. I was able to step outside of myself in those moments, and it felt lovely.

I’m actually being encouraged to try online dating, but I don’t think I will. I did it briefly for the purpose of research, and although I met one person out of the whole lot that I found pleasing. I don’t know if I like how squirrelly things can get. Often, I relegate those I meet to the category of friend simply to remove the oftentimes fickleness that rears up when the heart is involved. And then for the life of me I don’t know how anyone is to decipher those being honest from those that are not. It’s all so exhausting.

I can’t say my profile would be all that enticing anyway. I would however, want to inform them of a few things up front, and being a site for writers I would imagine I could speak with full expression. I’d let them know that oddly enough, even though I get cold easily, I like to sleep in a frigid room. I sleep on the left side of the bed, with one foot out, and don’t intend on changing. I could easily love dogs more than people, but that’s only because they love me without condition. I have yet to find a human who can do the same. I like to curl up in bed and watch the most peculiar of shows while eating. If I’m going to take the time to make love, then I want it to be with passion. I need to be left alone for stretches of time, solely so I can write. And when I write, I often mumble to myself. I’m not insane, just caught in the moment. I’m as much fascinated by all that I don’t know in life as that which I do. If I know someone is lying to me, I will at times choose to be a piss head, and ask them a few questions until such time as they’ve completely buried themselves. I have a phenomenal memory but can’t for the life of me remember the state capitols. I have a need for speed when it comes to machines. But only in that area. I’m a bit of a paradox and I fully admit to being a handful. But I’m honest. And those that have earned my friendship know that I would do most anything for them. To most, this is too complicated. Hence the reason, combined with the reasons above, that I’ve never ventured onto a dating site. And most likely won’t. So for now, it seems, the Farm People are safe.


Old Souls

I was talking with a friend the other day, and the comment was made about old souls. This comment being made by me, as I’m a believer in such. I have no evidence to support this belief. Regardless, it is a belief by which I stand. Let me tell you why.

When one takes a bird’s eye view of the world, their perception changes. Some people can’t remove themselves to that extent. But for those who can, people are seen in a different light. From this angle, no one is better than. No one is worse than. Instead, everyone is seen merely reacting to life.

It is in how they react that convinces me that they are either an old soul or a new soul. I have to imagine a new soul is much like that of a child. They dive into this world with wonder, but they also act out easily. When hurt they hurt back. When scared, they run and hide.They struggle to articulate what rests upon their heart. And often, have a hard time seeing beyond their own feelings. Very much like that of a child. But children also carry with them an innocence that is breathtaking, and can’t be found within those who’ve been around awhile. A child’s optimism is contagious and addictive.

And then there are those who react less impetuously. They aren’t filled with as much fear, jealousy and insecurity. They’d rather give than take. They tend to ensure the happiness of others a bit more than that of themselves. They often think beyond their initial impulse and question the impact of their actions. I would go so far as to say these souls have had time to age. Often, the downside to such aging is that a bit of enthusiasm gets lost along the way. These souls are tired. Not angry, spiteful or bitter. Just tired from having logged the many years since they too were young.

Regardless of age, people can add to the life of another, just as easily as they can take from that life. It isn’t easy to preserve oneself while dealing with the actions of others. But its easier when their actions are viewed from a distance. Once objectively viewed, the soul’s maturity is revealed.These might just be the whimsical thoughts of this peculiar writer. But if so, one has to question why someone who is fifty can be riddled with fear, all the while someone of the same age knows: all is well. How two people of the same physical age can have two vastly different views; how one who has been subjected to great tragedy has the ability to react with inner peace, while one who has seen little turmoil reacts overtly amazes me. Surely there is a reason for this. But then again, I tend to want to believe we are more than just the chemical and electrical impulses coursing through our body. I believe it is the part of ourselves that we can’t quite account for, that defines us. Philosophers, predating me by hundreds of years, have always professed that the mind gathers knowledge while the soul gathers wisdom. The mind thinks, the soul knows. I agree. Of course, I could be wrong. But I don’t think so.


We The People

Immigrants Ellis Island

I am not a Republican. Nor am I a Democrat. I am, however, an American. I am one of the many that form the ‘we’ in the line: We the people of the United States of America.

However, the ‘we’ is now a divided organization that much like a disease, is causing the slow death of the beautiful country, I call home. People lay claim to the notion of defending ‘we,’ all the while undermining one another. Currently, a great number are acting like that of ill behaved school children; lacking displayed wisdom, diplomacy and compassion.

It is not: We the people of the United States will fight and undercut each other until causing this great nation to be a sad spectacle in the eyes of all other countries on the globe; and until having done such irrevocable harm that we are no longer unified, and collapse. At which time as when in ruins, we will blame the other. Because surely its all their fault.

No, I’m quite certain that’s not how it went. I think it goes something like this: We the People  of the United States, in Order to form a more perfect Union, establish Justice, insure domestic Tranquility, provide for the common defense, promote the general Welfare

Nothing in this opening line, suggests that we should behave in the manner that is commonplace today. If my children were to behave like many of the adults I see as of late, I would be ashamed and so terribly disappointed. I would sit them down and ask why it is their way is better than anyone else’s. I would ask why they are not showing respect for others. Lastly, I would ask what they are doing to take into account the thoughts and needs of others, in addition to their own.

We have access to some of the best minds in the world. We could, if wanted, choose to use the energy wasted on attacking one another, to find a way to improve this country; serving the needs of all. I have no problem with wealth. I say, have at it. I also have no problem with a government that helps those in need. And I firmly believe we have the wherewithal to do both.

If I were an enemy of the United States, I would merely bide my time. Knowing soon, no use of weaponry against us would be necessary, as we are destroying ourselves. It seems most everyone has an agenda, and a firm, unyielding belief that their way is the only way, the better way.  We look down upon each other for having differing points of view, yet proudly claim we are the land of the free. You can not do both without also being an advocate of hypocrisy.  Adding to the sadness is that buried within all of this ugliness, are issues of importance and people trying to affect positive improvements.

I wish I had answers as to rebuilding this unbelievably beautiful country. But I don’t. I do know that within my lifetime, I may witness its collapse. As so many are simply too busy pointing fingers when we should be joining hands.

I feel a bit peevish at the moment. In a country with so many great people, we are showing our worst. No one wins with such ugliness and constant undermining. But while traveling this sad road to self-destruction, there are some of us that will remember the first word, and the most important word used when founding this  country: We.


Taking a Deep Breath

Do not lose hold of your dreams or aspirations. For if you do, you may still exist but you have ceased to live. ~ Henry David Thoreau 

I don’t feel we are here to merely go about the business of being alive. Furthermore, I don’t believe the miracle that is birth, brought us into being solely so we could sit at a desk, push paper around, make meals then go to sleep; only to do it again the next day.

Within every person, whether they allow themselves the audaciousness to tap into it or not, there is a dream. They aspire to accomplish, endeavor in or become something. We live in a world that, more often than not, works diligently to convince us of our shortcomings and inability to do anything beyond completing the most basic human functions. As if we were merely animals.

But we aren’t the beasts that mull around in the field. We operate on quite a different level. We dream. Rarely does a cow want more for itself and its offspring. Of course, I haven’t consulted any cows lately. But I’m quite certain I’m right in this assumption.

Dreams are to the soul, what air is to the lungs. The body will fight with all its might to breathe. Because it knows once it stops, it dies. The soul works in the same way. Only its death is a slower, less obvious one. Making it a bit easier to dismiss. But smothering one’s aspirations is as lethal as smothering one’s ability to breathe. There is a great number of people walking around, only half alive. Generally, you can see it in their eyes. They see themselves as having no purpose greater than, or sadly less than, that of a mule made to carry out the duties of another. An animal used for service.

When we believe less of ourselves than what our soul knows to be true, we begin a slow suicide. It is amazing to me how people will spin into an uproar when someone chooses to end their physical life. Yet, those same people think little of someone choosing to cut short their dreams. And dreams, are the stuff of God and the Universe. In my opinion the church of God isn’t a structural building of wood or brick. Those are just gathering places. God’s true church is a place within us. We all possess this place. Whether we choose to visit it or not.

It is my resolute belief that if we have the ability to create a dream, we also have the ability to fulfill the dream. The lungs pull air in trusting that the body will handle the rest. Never once does it stop mid inhale because it’s unsure if the breath will be a successful one. It simply does what it has to do to survive, knowing that if it has the urge to breathe, then it must find a way to get air in.

So dream with the understanding that we don’t always have to know what will happen once we step into the dream. Just know that for your spiritual body to survive we have to allow the dream to breathe.


God Help Me, There’s Another Elephant

Generally speaking, when the figurative elephant appears within the room, I’m the one to point it out. I can’t say I want to talk about the elephant. I have no use for the elephant. But I know the only way to remove the elephant, is by addressing it by name.

The way I look at it, the elephant is there due to something; there’s a reason that brought it into being. Heaven forbid it take up residency, so let’s all get rid of it before it has a chance to unpack its bags. But sadly, most people will crane their necks to look around the uncomfortable circumstance, rather than take steps to remove it. I don’t operate that way. Never have. Never will.

These bits and pieces of emotional debris and situational elephants, accumulate after time; making it hard to move around. I don’t want to get my hands dirty anymore than anyone else. And yet, out of a group, even a group as small as two, I’m the refuse collector. I want open pathways and the only way we’ll get those is to sweep up as we move along. One day, I hope to share this position with someone of like mind. But until then, I will assume this, all important, yet unpleasant task.

Not everyone wants to deal with things. One has to have an emotional backbone that’s not only strong, but quite mature. Gladly and sadly I can report that I have both, so it’s often me who bends to pick up the damaging fodder gathered in the corners. And as usual, once things are being picked up and tossed into the trash, they are looked at and questioned. “This still looks good. You sure we should pitch it?” But then it’s mutually decided, and into the wastebasket it goes. It’s an efficient system, when allowed.

I had to resign from a position within an organization due to this very problem. The President of the organization chose to see past the problems that would bring the organization to an imminent end. I wanted to rectify the problem if possible. Whereas I saw a sinking ship that needed repair, she only saw land sitting on the horizon. I couldn’t imagine how she supposed the ship was to skid upon shore if it was busy sinking at sea. As of the writing of this post, it was reported to me that the President jumped ship, and in the doing, left only a small crew behind to salvage what’s left. Apparently, her backbone paled in comparison to that of her crew.

When I was a kid, there was always a vegetable sitting upon my plate that I didn’t like. In my opinion, it ruined everything. But I didn’t like that outcome, as I wanted only to savor the things on my plate that were my favorites. In fact, ever since smelling things roasting in the oven, I had looked forward to enjoying dinner. So I did what any reasonable person would do, I bit the bullet and ate the vegetable first, getting it out-of-the-way. To enjoy life or people, we need a clear path. Sometimes this means removing the one thing we don’t like so we can enjoy those things that we do. In life and love, I don’t want anything standing in my way. And within both, there will always be random elephants and debris. It’s just how it goes. It’s delusional to think otherwise. Now, I won’t say elephants are easy to confront. And, I won’t say dealing with the debris of life is a clean and easy task. But I will say – it’s the only way.


We Come Running – Youngblood Hawke

Throwing the Dice

One of my larger hurdles in life is dealing with that of disappointment. I absolutely can not stand the feeling of it, and do a great deal to avoid it. Without a doubt this is to my detriment.

Often, if I fear disappointment is a possible outcome, I will pull myself away from the situation, dream or endeavor before its even had a chance to play out. I do this to prevent myself from having to experience the possible event of disappointment. So, as illogical as it may sound, I force upon myself disappointment to avoid disappointment down the road. There’s quite a bit of hypocrisy in that way of thinking. And I loathe hypocrisy almost as much as I loathe disappointment.

I’ve had to walk with this aspect of myself for quite some time. In the doing, I’ve been able to eye it up and down often. I’ve had to come to terms with this particular shortcoming and how it impacts my approach to life; more importantly, how it impacts the outcomes I’m offered in life. Something within me must believe, based on fear, that if I assume the best for myself, and thus move in that direction, complete with anticipation, it will trigger the inevitable outcome of disappointment. I am worthy and deserving of good things, this I know, and yet a morsel resides within me that if I allow myself to expect  and get excited (that’s the big one) about something, I am in some manner of speaking setting myself up for heartache. Could a part of me be so misguided as to believe that joyful anticipation, and allowing myself to feel good, triggers the Gods to frown upon me; therefore descending a myriad of things I don’t want? It seems so. But I’m wrong.  Although I’m stating it very blatantly, I feel many people live under this misguided fear.

What I’m doing, is robbing myself of the chance to experience the very thing I want most to experience. Its lunacy in action. And yet, I have noticed, its something I do all too often. It’s a protective mechanism. But a damaging one.

I have suffered some profound disappointments in my life. The truth is, they scarred me considerably. But, I would hate to be shaped by those scars. I would hate to be merely a byproduct of my wounds. Yes disappointment stings in a very singular, intense way. There is no denying it. Yet, on a lower, less intense level, I am choosing to experience disappointment instead of letting it come my way organically, should it even venture my way at all.

This is what I know about myself and aim to rectify. I must, if I am to accomplish anything. One shouldn’t choose not to throw the dice for fear of seeing losing numbers. We should all loosen our wrists, and throw the dice knowing that by doing so, and only by doing so, will we ever experience a win.


Written to Churchill – Change (this is a top-down while driving wild and free kind of song)

I’d Like To Introduce Myself

I had mentioned that I was writing an article for a magazine: The Day That Changed Your Life. My mother wanted me to enter this particular contest, and thus I have. It’s a 2,000 word essay, although mine comes in under that mark. Have no worries, it’s a quick read. As many of you know, I write like the current. I purposefully try to pull you along with me until we reach the end.

For those who have wondered who I am, these words paint that picture. My hope is that I’ve done so eloquently and poignantly. Either way, this is me – exposed. By viewing those who allow themselves to be seen, we can finally view ourselves. So please, look on.

The Weight of Many Moments

Its said that time is not linear. Instead, time is like that of a column. And within that column all moments exist in the present. Even though science supports this, my logical mind struggles to comprehend its true meaning. But then my soul speaks, and tries to explain: We are the culmination of all things, all experiences, and all moments in time. The moment that is now, is the moment that was then.

When the soul speaks it doesn’t always do so with a gentle voice. It may start with a delicate whisper, but once gasping for air – its forced to yell. For many of us, it shouts through the voice of depression. All my life I’ve struggled with depression. My life felt much like that of wearing a coat that didn’t fit. Regardless of how suffocatingly tight it was, I kept forcing the buttons to close. I knew the coat; its familiarity was comforting even if I hated how it made me feel.

One day the buttons burst, and as a result, I was forced to confront the exposed person within. That was the day I wrote my first novel. Within that moment, a certain energy moved through my fingers, and onto the page. The words that came into focus before me, were the words my soul needed to say. Four weeks later, the novel had been written. And no longer was I able to hide myself within a coat that didn’t fit.

I was forced to sit alone, in a room with my demons. I talked to them, and they talked to me. I learned that all that dwells within us is there for a reason; a purposeful intent. If allowed room to breathe, if not smothered but seen for the valuable elements they are, we come into balance. This type of balance isn’t achieved by jettisoning the parts of our inner self with which we are uncomfortable. Its achieved by repositioning them and seeing them in a different light. The whole of my soul had work to do, and the only one standing in its way was me.

By staring at the darkness within me, I was able to see that it possessed a certain beauty. Without darkness we have no reason for light. My darkness, or that which I believed to be the dark and ugly within me, was integral to the foundation on which my inner beauty sits. For a painting to come to life, it often has to be set against a dark background. Dark contrast is required to make the lighter, more delicate colors stand out. Soft pink is easily overlooked when set against equally demure hues. Every painter knows, such contrast is a must. The soul is similar to a painting; it’s an expression of God and one’s self.

My novel flowed so quickly, it wasn’t until I read it for myself that I processed its true meaning: Do not deny who you are. And with that, my mind’s eye glanced back over the last forty years of my life; from the days when I would sit wide-eyed with my alcoholic father, trying to explain to him a God that exceeds all explanation, to the day the Universe honored my wish and attempted to end my life. With my struggles now sitting across from me, I formed a kinship with all that I had previously tried to disown. And because of that, I now wear my darkness as proudly as I wear my light.

Life is a great deal like a card game. We look at what’s in our hand, pull out the worst of it, and slide it face down across the table. In the doing, we hope Fate slides something better our way. We hesitantly pick up the card and try to make sense of what we are seeing. I never could. But that’s because I viewed a bad card as punishment. I could not see how something that hurt, could ever bring about a winning hand.

With every passing day, with every card we pull from our fingers, another is given to us. I had reached a point where I had no more desire to live than I had to die. Neither prompted a response in me. Death, at least, brought a certain relief. This I knew. Knowing that feeling, I can fault no one that chooses such an end. For some of us there comes a sincere moment when all we want, is to slowly set the cards down, push our chair from the table, and walk away. There is peace within that feeling. I had that feeling. Instead of dreaming of an ocean front home or standing on the shore with my children, I dreamt of no longer listening to my mind try to make sense of a nonsensical world.

On an evening when a blue moon sat in the sky, I came within two millimeters of losing my life. Lying on the side of the road, unconscious to the world around me, I became conscious of the world that lives beyond. I looked, but not with eyes, I listened, but not with ears. I knew the space I occupied was without end. I had no heartbeat and no pain. It was divine. While there I knew my fate was being decided. And as if a meeting was taking place behind closed doors, I waited for a decision to be made. I felt things shift, and forced back into place. My mind tumbled painfully into the world for which I was most familiar. Apparently, my work was not yet done.

A year later to the day, I slid my body down the wall and onto the floor of the Intensive Care Unit outside my son’s room. Within the constant noise of the hospital, my world was once again turned quiet. When I walked, there was no ground beneath my feet. And when I looked to the future, I did so unsure if my son would survive the malignant brain tumor that had decided to grow inside his bright and beautiful body.

In the evening, away from the watchful eyes of the medical staff, I howled against God. Listening to my mournful cries, my mother could offer nothing but her silence and a steady stream of tears. She watched as her daughter was forced to live out the nightmare all mother’s fear: losing one’s child. As cards go, it’s the one we know is in the deck, yet pray is never slid in our direction. As I held the card, I screamed against a God that could be so cruel. I screamed against a God that would repeatedly give me a life filled with pain. I shouted against Life, Fate and All Things. In a pile upon the floor, I cried.

This elusive being that is almighty, had forsaken me for the last time. I knew God was my adversary. I knew that I was my adversary. I wanted only to complete my time on this earth, and never do it again.

As often is the case, when we forcefully push against something – it breaks. I broke in that moment. I broke a small part of the wall that separated me from All That Is. And through that newly opened space, God began to whisper.

During the many hours of my son’s surgery, little signs of God’s presence were shown to me. Often, these signs were revealed to my mother, who like a good soldier, immediately reported them to the ranking official. I listened. I carefully analyzed them, then waited. But as I did, I no longer did so with eyes that were closed off. My eyes now looked beyond the world of tangible objects and people. And as I kept looking, more was revealed. Little signs that said, “Despite all appearances – all is well.”

Leaning over my son’s bed, looking at his young freckled face as it lay quiet, I breathed deep. Aware of the litany of possible outcomes awaiting him, I knew I had no control of what happened next; that had been decided between my son and his God. Then with his eyes closed he whispered, “Mom, your carbon dioxide is making me sick.” In that instant I knew my son’s work was not done. Like me, he had returned, with his wit intact.

Often it is only by walking through pain that we discover the larger part of ourselves. It is through the realization that every card handed us has purpose. I no longer clamor to express those things within me that are most pleasing to others, while hiding that which may seem dark and brooding. Through the culmination of these moments in my life, I now know that its only through the use of all the colors dolloped upon my palette that I can paint the portrait of my life. There is no color better than the rest. By using each hue, in balance, I create a life that is beautiful to behold.

Reading my novel, I had to release the coat that no longer fit. I had to redefine my life. I let go of a marriage that did not honor me. I let go of a way of thinking that did not honor me. Most of all, I finally let go of the walls that surrounded my heart. Fate didn’t allow such a transition to happen gracefully. Often there is a struggle when letting go. That which we are trying to release fights with wild abandon. But with my walls down, God was finally able to walk with me. When I was but a child, my most fervent prayer was that Jesus would sit with me. Even when young, I felt alone. Because my soul decided to take one final gasp of air, and force its story into written word – I was made to see that God sits with me – because God sits within me.

As I move ahead with life, and new cards come my way, I’ve come to understand my life’s work; the reason I was given another chance. Within my words, I am to help others shed the coat that doesn’t fit. I am to help others balance their palette; to accept and love their many shades. We are all beautiful. We are not so flawed as we suspect. All that dwells within us, is there for a reason – it’s up to us to find the reason.

There are those who walk through this life with soft steps. And then there are those who walk and leave an indention, something for the world to see. My footsteps are meant to awaken the smothered soul in all of us. It took the weight of many moments to discover this.

Listening to Royal Teeth – Wild

Careful How You Throw

To live in a world where the boomerang effect reigns supreme would be a wonderful thing. I’m quite diligent in how I treat others. Not so much to prompt a response in them. I do it to honor the better part of me.

Ninety-three percent of the time, I operate with compassion. I give myself the seven percent leeway because quite honestly, after enough time has passed wherein one has looked like a duck, and walked like a duck, I will without an ounce of tact, tell them they are indeed a duck. But that doesn’t happen often.  And at present, there are no ducks in view.

As much as I’d like to believe that what we extend toward others comes back like a boomerang, I don’t necessarily believe it to be the case. If so, truly loathsome individuals would be living truly loathsome existences. I do believe however, that how we treat others reveals more about ourselves than it does the one to whom we are treating. A good pitcher carefully lets the ball spin from their fingers. The receiver is being given the pitcher’s best, honoring both involved. Doing the same with one’s actions requires integrity. It seems though, that integrity is a fading quality in today’s world. Like clean air and water, it’s getting harder and harder to find. Careless balls are lobbed without thought. And good people are being forced to dodge quite a few bad throws.

There are so many emotionally crippled people in the world today doling out insensitivity, callousness and selfish behavior, its easy to lose sight of how one should behave. People spend their time watching tv shows and movies where exaggerated versions of themselves are displayed as the new norm. And yet, there is nothing normal or healthy about such behavior. Emptiness is on the rise and the fallout is getting rather devastating. A part of me is convinced our beautiful earth is mirroring back the instability of those walking upon its surface.

I have to wonder if everyone were to look at themselves in a mirror, would they be proud of what they saw. Are they proud of the person they’ve become. If not, it’s never too late to change.

Be kind to others not because it may promise that in return, but because by doing so we are first and foremost being kind to ourselves. Of course, if we all did this, imagine how divine the world would be.

I don’t care if what I’m holding is a boomerang. It still mirrors me. Everything I do reveals who I am. And I kinda like who I am. I know what I throw may never come back to me with the same kindness that I’ve sent out. But that doesn’t mean I should change how I throw.



Reaching the Summit

When I was around the age of fourteen, my mother warned me against the evils of boys: they will say anything to get what they want, they can’t be trusted, and they’d screw a package of chopped liver if they could. The last one made no sense to me until a few years later when standing at the meat counter, and I actually saw chopped liver. Good or bad, her words, were the earliest truths I had regarding the working’s of boys.

And unfortunately, as the years passed, my mother’s words rang more true than not. Although a fiction writer, I’ve never been one to claim fiction as my truth – even as a young girl. Thus, I never believed in the chivalry of the White Knight, the kindness of the Prince, or the sincerity of the eager-eyed boy as seen in movies and in stories. Sadly, while growing up, I never had evidence to prove that my beliefs were misguided.

It’s said that what we believe becomes our truth. If so, I can’t imagine these beliefs served me well. The movie reel within our mind spins often, playing out scenario after scenario of possible future events. What I have to wonder is: why its easier to play out what we fear versus play out that for which we hope. In fact, the movie reel of our fears is so over-played it’s nearly worn out. We keep it so close within reach; making it the first we grab. Whereas, the reel of our hopes is still crisp and bright from being tucked away in a round tin. Occasionally, we allow ourselves a glimpse of it, but then convince ourselves that it’s too good to be true. And with that, we pull it off the projector and tuck it back away.

We know what we want. If not with etched clarity, we surely know the essence. We know in general terms how we want something to unfold. But rarely do we allow that image to play out repeatedly in our minds while we stare at the television, or off in the distance.

Somewhere along the line we created a truth for ourselves, one that hasn’t served us, but one that we’ve accepted just the same. We do this when it comes to our belief regarding our appearance, self-worth and matters of the heart. I’ve done this. I’ve certainly done this with men. As much as I feel a wonderful partner would be pleasing, and has the potential to infuse my life with happiness, I question if men are all the same. If I do find myself enjoying the moment, I find myself also waiting for the other shoe to drop. Often it does.

How tragic, if due to my assumptions of the future, I was creating the future. Where I thought I was protecting myself from a certain reality, I was actually setting myself up for it instead. If I believe no one will buy my books, am I creating that outcome? I can’t say I know for certain either way. One never does. These are all unknown truths that hover in our lives without data proving them unequivocally true or not true.

Within my core though, I feel it to be true, and that feeling is the only data I need. When looking ahead, create wisely. See yourself getting the job, not being the one who’s looked-over. See yourself winning, not losing. See climbing the mountain and reaching the summit, not falling clumsily off the side. And most of all, see yourself getting your heart’s desire, whatever that may be, because there’s a very good possibility that those movies within one’s mind are not benign fictional images, but are blueprints. The human body is the stuff of the universe: oxygen, hydrogen, carbon and so forth. It makes sense then, that the working’s of the mind are no exception. So be kind to yourself when forecasting your future.


In the background Foo Fighters – Times Like These (Acoustic)