Following Your Bliss

Back in the day, when I was cranking out screenplays, pitching ideas and going to seminars for screenwriting, I was introduced to Joseph Campbell, whose 1988 PBS series with Bill Moyer “The Power of Myth” was recommended by everyone, in part because Campbell’s ideas had reportedly been the basis for the Star Wars trilogy and Hollywood was jumping on the bandwagon.

I loved the series and drank in the phrase Campbell coined, “follow your bliss.” He meant that whatever it is that makes you blissfully happy is the thing you must pursue in your life and all else will fall in.

To this day, I fervently believe in that principle. Last week, I was personally elated, to the point of tears, by an example of the truth of that philosophy.

My sister, Julie, had been trying to get into nursing school, and finally was admitted after two years of applying, and to the program she really wanted at SAC State.

The critical part of this story is that Julie, after 23 years of working for a very stable company as a manager, quit her job to pursue the lifelong dream of becoming a nurse. She had spent a couple of years in part-time schooling, but then it became obvious that to really achieve her goal she would need to go full-time.

My brother-in-law, John, was capable of supporting them both, but it represented a big change in their lifestyle and sense of security.

Additionally, it couldn’t have been easy to leave a position where she had achieved no small measure of success for the scary prospect of finishing school and then getting a job in a completely new field.

I don’t think Julie was aware that getting into nursing school would be so difficult. What she discovered after getting top grades was there were just not enough slots in the nursing programs and most of them were based on a lottery system, not merit. So, effectively, her struggles to get all A’s wasn’t really getting her anywhere.

Happily, SAC State’s program is merit-based, and in January she’ll be on the last leg of her journey to finally being the nurse she’s always dreamed of being. Julie followed her bliss and all else fell into place.

When she called to tell me the good news, she and I both cried and then after we hung up I found myself choking up for about an hour afterwards. I realized a great part of my emotion was joy for my sister, but a huge chunk was joy that my belief in following your bliss was reaffirmed.

“Follow your bliss.” ~ Joseph Campbell

Moments of Unexpected Pleasure

This past Saturday I was making some leisurely sorties into various retail stores without any real need to buy anything. I tried on some shoes without finding anything I couldn’t live without. I explored Michaels for a half hour before I realized there was nothing in the store for me worth waiting another half hour in line. I dipped into Bath and Body Works and picked up a couple of unnecessary items, then finally wandered into Barnes and Noble to check out a book I’d been thinking of buying.

Once I located the book with the help of a staff member, who looked like he’d been run through the ringer this holiday season, I found a big, juicy armchair and plopped myself in it. I skimmed through the book and quickly decided I didn’t really want it and nearly jumped up to return it to the shelf when a certain weariness overcame me.

So, instead, I settled in. All around me there were people in various states of buying frenzy, most obviously looking for gifts. I watched them for a while before an awareness settled over me that I was done. I was really done – with making Christmas happen for my son, daughter, daughter-in-law, grandchildren and the sister whose stocking I was to fill in the family drawing of names. Actually done.

A sense of peace descended over me and I sat back without a thought in the world. My mind was as clear as if I had been meditating for hours to achieve the same affect. I listened to the noises surrounding my little safe haven and took the time to peer around me. I discovered a book by Judi Dench, one of my all-time favorite film stars, on a shelf a mere two steps away and retrieved it.

For the next half hour or so, I sat and looked at what was essentially a picture book of her life. For those of you who may not be familiar with Dame Dench, she’s the most current “Q” in the James Bond films. I find her incredibly beautiful and was somewhat relieved to find that she has actually aged very well. In some ways, her age has enhanced the beauty of her youth.

But the truly wonderful thing about this tiny pleasure was the unexpected nature of it. I sat until I was tired of sitting there, not motivated by any other thing. I had nothing that required doing. This freedom from worry allowed me to fully experience the moment, such a rare thing in this busy life of ours in the United States.

It is the end of a weekend now, and as I write this I realize that the thirty or so minutes I sat just looking and relaxing is probably the most tranquil and satisfying I’ve had in months.

Here’s wishing you a lovely few moments. After all, they are the real payoff in life, aren’t they?

Gratitude Is What It’s All About

Thanksgiving is upon us and it is time to express my own gratitude for so many blessings.

I’m most thankful this year for the incredible event that, in my mind, has proven our country is still the country of opportunity and capable of overcoming the worst and elevating the best.

When Barack Obama became our President-Elect, the joy brought tears to my eyes. Aside from the fact that I supported Obama for President, I was overcome that in my lifetime the people of the United States of America voted an African American to its highest office.

Although I felt confident in Obama’s eventual victory for the last three months of the campaign, since Geraldine Ferraro had been the Democratic nominee for Vice President and the party lost, I had believed that neither a woman nor a black could become President in my lifetime. It seemed that ignorance, hatred, bigotry and fear would hold sway for many, many years.

So, I’m deeply thankful that my country can now lift its collective face towards a brighter, more enlightened future.

Then I have so much more to be grateful for that it would take pages and pages to list it all, but I’ll give it the old college try to hold it down to a couple of paragraphs.

With all my heart, I thank the Universe for giving me the opportunity to seek my bliss, to place me in a situation where I can write, for once without a high-pressure job to juggle while trying to tempt my muse to visit me.

I’m thankful to have a job, a place to live and the ability to pay my bills. I know that there are many living in fear of losing one or more of these things and know that I am lucky.

Thankfully, I have people who love me and people that I love – perhaps the greatest gift of all. I spoke to one of those people today, and said I never feel lonely. Wow, how blessed am I?

So, for Thanksgiving I’ve decided to spend the day alone, finishing my first rewrite on the novel I’ve been squeezing out of my brain for more than two years and feeling deeply grateful.

My very heartfelt wishes for a Happy Thanksgiving to you all!

Clearing My Head

As some of you may have noticed, I've been away. A road trip to LA and a plane trip to Phoenix, of all places. But that's not really what I mean. I've been taking a break from writing, which has been welcome but unintentional.

When I finished my first draft of my novel in early October, I felt as if I'd just done a marathon, and I had, of sorts. I had just completed 100 pages in less than two months. That's the fastest I've ever written - long term. I found myself mentally and creatively exhausted. So, I ended up neglecting everything, including my journal, which I've been very diligent about for months now.

I have a very dear friend, who will recognize herself in this simple advice, "Take care of yourself and give yourself time." I took her advice, offered long ago for a completely different situation, and now I find myself raring to go again. I'm half-way through my first rewrite and on schedule to begin marketing my book when the new year begins.

Not only am I ready for rewriting, but this weekend, inspiration came to me again, (or Shirley for those of you who remember my muse's name)and I'm working on a short story as well as being driven to blog again.

I think sometimes we pushed ourselves to do too much in too short a time frame and end up not doing anything well, and perhaps more importantly, not enjoying life. Time is an abstract notion that we tie ourselves to, chained to minutes and hours that have no real meaning in our lives.

Forgive me, I've been reading Eckart Tolle's book "A New Earth: Awakening to Your Life's Purpose." This is a fabulous book, but very difficult read, which has me re-examining everything. I highly recommend it, but don't strive to read and understand everything right away. At first I had to take numerous breaks, in order to absorb the very deep insinuations about how we live and what is reality. A good bookmark and ten minutes of quiet time daily should get you through it nicely in a month or two. As you'll see when you read it, there's no real hurry to most things in life - so why rush to the end of a book that will give you lots to think about on nearly every page.

And please forgive me my absence - but I'm back now. I'd love to read your comments on this blog once in a while. There are lots of you that read it, at last count about 200 readers, but few comments. Feel free to disagree too.

Wishing you a lovely respite from whatever you have overdone lately!

The World According to Technophobes

A few weeks ago, I was in an antique store and the guy on duty behind the counter was busy playing solitaire with a deck of cards. I mentioned that I played solitaire on my computer and was met by a grimace and “harummph,” indicating that the computer solitaire wasn’t real solitaire.

First, I wondered what made it so much more legitimate to manually flip cards over; not something that requires magnificent skill in my mind. Then I made the connection; he was discounting it because a computer – or technology – was involved.

I have been exposed to a number of technophobes in the past few months, which I’ve borne with as much equanimity has I could muster. However, yesterday a conversation with some co-workers, about how wonderful the internet is, sparked me to remember just how much my life has changed for the better since its inception (as well as that of others who embrace rather than discard technology.)

I probably appreciated technology the most as a reporter. First, the internet made fact-checking and information gathering a whiz. I couldn’t imagine the lives of those who had gone before and had to make trips to a library to get their articles together. Don’t get me wrong – I love libraries. However, being able to Google (see, even our language has changed radically as a result of the advance of computer sciences) something, and receive hundreds of thousands of references, transformed the art of journalism and many other disciplines.

While being able to email someone has reduced the amount of real mail we receive, most people would trade off instant communications for the aesthetics of receiving the occasional letter. Now, it seems, our biggest problem in this regard, is not becoming a slave to our email. Culling through the spam and irritating fluff emails can be annoying. Still, I’d never want to have to go back to having only the options of mail, telephone or, God forbid, telegraph messages.

Cell phones are the most maligned of the newer electronic devices. I often hear sarcastic remarks like: “What in the world did we ever do without cell phones?” Actually, this is an easy question to answer. We worried about our spouses and children when they didn’t get home when we expected them, where now we dial them for an update. We got to the grocery store and forgot what it was we needed and usually went home without a critical item, when now we can just call home for help. We got stranded on a lonely road in the middle of the night and were dependent on a stranger to come along and help us out, instead of being able to call the police or AAA.

Now, let’s talk about one of my favorite technological advances – the digital camera. How freeing is it to snap shot after shot, never having to worry about running out of film or the expense of printing all the horrible pictures along with the few gems? I have gotten the best photos by simply shooting several of every possible scenario. In the old days, I’d have to be very careful not to waste film. Also, I can now store all my photo on my computer, email copies to others, print only the ones I want and take an unlimited number of shots. Wow!

There are so many more innovations – Ipods, camera phones, GPS devices – it would take forever to cover all the enhancements that technology has and continues to provide. I, for one, am thrilled to be living in the age of technology.

I wonder what they will call this period in 100 years?

Are Thoughts Magnetic?

An incredible experience led me to suddenly considered the idea that perhaps thoughts do have a sort of magnetism to them.

I had been mulling over a problem at work, in which I was having trouble communicating with someone who was trying to train me. The frustration level on both sides was increasing and something had to be done. Sunday morning, I awoke with the answer in my head, which was amazing clear and concise.

"She's verbal and I'm visual!" With that mental statement, an incredible sense of relief came over me. In essence, my trainer was prone to trying to explain things without any written instructions, simply through telling me. I'm sure that works well for those who are basically verbal. For me, it had been pure torture. I need to "see" it and also to be able to refer to it again, in writing.

What made this discovery such a happy one for me was what happened after that revelation. I was literally swamped with realizations from my past. Things that had bothered me over the years and this simple understanding explained them.

For instance, it has always mystified me that I can sing along with a song or hear it over and over; yet I'm unable to memorize it. I have always been annoyed by that and even thought I was perhaps disabled in some way. This ah-ha moment enlightened me. Now, if I want to learn a song, I'll look it up on the internet, print out the lyrics and memorize it.

The rushing of thoughts continued and I had a mental image of a large round magnet as the first thought and all of these subsequent thoughts flowing towards it as if by the pull of an unseen force - magnetism.

As probably many of you know, there is a theory (expounded by many throughout the ages, but most recently in a book called "The Secret"), that what you think about you bring to you. After this experience, I'm even more prone to believe that this is true.

I wonder sometimes, if we have thoughts that gather others along with them and we just don't perceive the connections; that perhaps we are "turned off, and tuned out" as hippies used to say. Perhaps, thoughts are invisible but have an unknown physicality to them? Hummm...gives a whole new meaning to the term "woolgathering", a decidedly physical description of daydreaming or cogitating.

Happy thoughts to all of you and may your mental magnet be in full force!

For A Sanity Break -Try Blogging

Okay, most of you out there are not writers, so why would you want to blog? Good question. Let me see if I can explain the benefits.

As a writer, blogging has been a lifesaver. It has allowed me to keep my hand in and get instant gratification, while I tackle two huge projects that will take a while to come to fruition - one is a novel and the other an intricate website. Not only do I get to write on a regular basis, but because I've put a google analysis tool on my blogs, which tells me people are reading them, I know my words are not falling off into dead space.

For that reason only, a blog may be just right for you, the average Joe or Josephine. Do you have an opinion on who won the Vice Presidential Debates? Wouldn't you love to express that view without starting World War III at work or with relatives? How about your love of creating new and unique desserts? Wouldn't you love to display pictures of those fancy cakes and cupcakes you made for your latest soiree'? You could upload photos and also include the recipes.

Really, this forum is good for so many people. Recently an AARP email reported that 20 million people in the US read blogs everyday and even more surprising, 12 million have blogs of their own. What does that say to you? There are a lot of people with something to say or share and even more who are interested.

So, if you've got a hobby, a pet peeve, a desire to write daily, a special window on the world or any tiny part of it, then you might want to consider blogging.

This is extremely easy to do and it's free. Come on all you would-be bloggers, give it a try! What have you got to lose?

Tell Them You’re Fabulous

It’s a standard greeting – How are you? You’ll hear it in the morning when you step through the doors of your place of employment and all through the day as you progress through your list of chores.

Well, I recently had an encounter with a grocery clerk that made me realize just how rote the whole thing has become and how easy it is to turn that around.

A young man, probably 25 or so, was checking me out at the local Trader Joes and asked how I was. I replied, “I’m fabulous.” The checker took a second look at me and proceeded into a lengthy conversation that was both interesting and uplifting. We were left with that instant bond you sometimes feel with a perfect stranger, knowing that you both just shared a moment, never to be returned to, but valuable in itself.

I have often told people I’m fabulous, in answer to that proverbial question, with varying degrees of emphasis on the “fabulous.” It often floats right over some people’s heads, but frequently causes others to stop for a moment and ask themselves why. What does this woman have to be so happy about? Why is she fabulous and I’m not feeling it so much?

Sometimes it lightens the other person’s day, but it almost always lightens mine because as the words leave my mouth, I suddenly feel fabulous. The word itself brings a certain “over-the-top” sensation with it. Not okay, not fine, not good, not even great, but fabulous!

Terrific would work. So would “absolutely wonderful!” As long as the sense of joy in life, being at the top of your game and at one with the Universe is projected, it’s all good.

For those days when you’re not feeling fabulous, few as they may be, ever heard of the expression “Fake it until you make it”? Pretending you’re fabulous may just get you there.

Things Change, But Not Really

I left Arizona in March and my daughter, Vanessa, stayed behind. Just this past weekend she came to visit for the first time. That six-month period was our first separation. At the age of 24, I guess it was probably time for Vanessa, but I'm not sure there's ever a right time for a parent.

The time apart was pure agony for me. I realized when I picked her up at the airport why. Somewhere in the back of my head I was afraid of losing her. I can remember having the same feelings when my son left me for the Marines at 4:30 a.m. one morning years ago.

The minute Vanessa got in the car I realized I hadn't lost a thing. Everything felt the same, and the months fell away in an instant.

I think that people resist change primarily because they are afraid of loss. What could be lost varies depending on the individual and their circumstances. The greater the value of what is at risk, the greater the resistance to change becomes. For me, the loss of my child, on any level, was really tough and frankly I'm surprised I finally left Arizona.

Because of the heat, I was always miserable six months out of the year in that state. I know others who love the heat, but I actually suffered from Seasonal Affective Disorder, which usually occurs in cold, harsh winter climates like the Northeast. It was ultimately that dissatisfaction with the weather that drove me back to California, my home state.

But really, was the heat enough of a problem for me to give up regular contact with my only daughter? Apparently, it was. Anyone who has read my posts regularly knows I believe in the mysterious workings of the Universe and so I find myself wondering if the Universe was looking out for me or both of us. Vanessa has had to deal with her car being melted by a car that caught on fire while parked next to hers, moving from her own apartment into a house shared with three other young women and finally losing a job and starting a new one. Perhaps, she was meant to work through these things on her own.

Don't get me wrong. We talk. We talk all the time. But it's not the same as having your family around to hang out with, collect hugs from when needed or simply give you the assurance that you're not alone.

I miss her again already and hope that someday we'll be in at least the same state. However, one thing I know now that I didn't realize over the past six months - Things change, but not really.

Security Is An Illusion

Adults know when they see children clutching a tattered old blanket that what we call a security blanket actually offers no real security for the child. It is simply an illusion that we are willing to allow the child to hold on to up to a certain age, then we struggle to take away their security blanket, ostensibly because they are old enough to do without.

Strangely enough, in my experience, most adults also cling to security blankets, although they are called a "good job", 401 K, pension plans and the like. Even more often, having been in one place for so that the employee believes there are no more unknowns he or she is lured into a false sense of security. Then there's the earnest conviction that all the horrible things that hit the newspapers and television "couldn't possibly happen to me."

That's what makes it so devastating when someone's pension plan is cut from $180,000 per year to $21,000 or they lose their job based on a false accusation from another employee. What? Why? How?

I've learned the lesson of "false security" three times in my life, and I still occasionally grasp at something that feels secure and relax. There's nothing wrong with relaxing, but it should be because you accept that things change and nothing is ever forever.

Let me explain. My family and I lived through the Northridge earthquake in California, and as an aftermath, I found myself living in fear of the next one. While our apartment rolled as if we were on the deck of a small ship in a stormy sea, the reality of what was happening shook me to the core. There was nothing I could do except wait for it to pass. We tried to walk to the front door, but were knocked down. Even when it stopped, we were trapped until some neighbors broke down our front door. I had absolutely no control over anything that early January morning. There was no such thing as security at that point.

Then my husband, Pete, passed away at 51 from a combination of heart disease and diabetes. Nothing we tried helped, and after a year of angst I accepted the fact that he was going to die. He did and my partner, whom I had planned to live with until we were both old and feeble, left me alone. I had no sense of security anymore. Whatever was to be in the future, would be without my rock, my friend, my husband.

Finally, when 9/11 happened any remnants of a security blanket I might have clung to evaporated in the explosions of the Twin Towers. I was not alone. Many struggled to find something to hold on to.

But our memories are so short in many ways, thankfully, and we begin to build our lives again and hold on to nonsense. Acceptance that things will change no matter what we plan on is, in my opinion, the best way to get through life. It allows you to live in the now, because in truth, the moment is all we are guaranteed. This moment, right now. Nothing else.

Why did I think this was important to express? Because all around me people are dealing with lost jobs, lost homes, lost partners, all things in which at one time they felt secure. It is a lovely illusion, but only that.

So, instead treasure the unexpected smile or the peace and quiet of a summer morning. Live in the moment, as much as you can. It will pay off big dividends in the end.

Postscript: I found this wonderful quote today and just had to add it to this post. Helen Keller said, "Security is mostly a superstition. It does not exist in nature, nor do the children of men as a whole experience it. Avoiding danger is no safer in the long run than outright exposure. Life is either a daring adventure or nothing."

On Finishing A Thing

I have been working on my second novel for two years now, sporadically. It has gone through several major changes in direction, but most recently I changed it to a story about one person to a story about four. In the process I had to dump eight thousand words and 32 pages. I’ve recently added 80 pages and 16,000 words back, which made me take a hard look at how much further I had to go to finish a first draft.

I only need about 150 pages or less to finish the story and have a novel sized manuscript. That translates to about 30,000 words. I consistently write about 1000 words an hour. Do you realize that means I only have 30 more hours of writing to be done with my first draft?

In real life, that means if I focus for the next 30 days, and write one hour a day on the manuscript, I’ll be ready to start rewrites by the middle of September. That’s huge for me.

I wrote a novella in 1995, which is a manuscript that falls somewhere between a short story and a novel, in my case, at about 160 pages. It was called “Annie’s Man.”

I made the mistake of sending it off for a seal of approval to the wrong person. When it came back marked in red with grammatical corrections and no comments on the story, I was crushed and put it away. About a year ago, I pulled it back out and reread it. I cried three times. It was pretty darn good. It could use a rewrite, which is what I would have done back in 1995, with a little encouragement.

However, with the help of “The Artist’s Way” a book by Julia Cameron, I’ve slowly worked my way back into writing to completion. The book takes you through all the possible pitfalls, and the guidance is what I’ve needed to get to the end.

Now, admittedly, I’m not at the end yet. But I know I will be. And soon. For me, seeing the end of a thing is as good as finishing it. And that’s what I will do this time.

Parts of the book are good now. After the rewrite, I expect the novel will be quite good. This isn’t a big pat on the back for me, because I’ve come to the realization that my writing is something that comes from both inside and outside myself. Yes, the source for my stories comes from inside, the life I’ve lived and the situations I’ve been in, but the writing itself is often from another source. I choose to call it the Universe.

When I’m in rhythm with the Universe, and allow it to flow through me, the writing flows as well. There are times I write something, and go back to read it and don’t remember writing that passage. I’m awed by what’s on the page. That’s when I know that something besides me was at work.

However, finishing a thing is up to me. It is about not allowing myself to get in the way, to bull through the thing until it’s done. That has not occurred for me very often. It is the biggest battle of my life – completion.

This time, I really feel this novel is going to make it, big. And I will complete it no matter what. I give myself three months to rewrite it, so by the first of 2009, I’ll be sending it out to agents and editors.

So, now that I’ve put it in writing, I’ll have to follow through won’t I? So, we have a date. Look for an update after New Year’s Day. You can say you read me when I was just a blogger!

Progress Report - Life After High School

This beautiful young lady is my niece Molly, whose graduation inspired the beginning of this blog. In the picture she is talking with one of the children she helps to feed everyday in the Dominican Republic, and when possible provides some medical care.

She's on a mission through her church, not for the first time. I know she went last summer, as well, but also perhaps the summer before. Molly is a practicing Christian. I don't have a religious bone in my body, but I so admire her convictions and most of all, her actions.

After last year's mission, I asked her to share some of her pictures with me. I watched as she scrolled on her computer past the faces of smiling children, happy to get a meal and some beach scenes, but then she stopped on a picture that choked me with emotion. It still does, frankly.

The picture before showed her removing some skin from a child's burn with a razor blade. The next picture, which took my breath away, was a shot of Molly as she turned towards the camera, her expression hidden from the child. There was incredible empathy in her eyes and pain on her face. She felt for this child.

Molly wants to be a nurse. I hope with all my heart that she's able to retain that empathy, because with that single quality she'll always be able to change her little piece of the world.

The organization she's working with is now in the process of setting up a real clinic in the Dominican Republic and asking for contributions. I'm sending a small check today. Here's a short quote from their latest report, actually written by Molly.

"We currently do not have a building for our medical clinic. Our office is now being used as our make shift clinic but we are in need of a permanent multi purpose building. This will be a chapel, a much needed school room for our kids and a room for our medical clinic. The need for a clinic is overwhelming, last week we opened our doors for a medical outreach and cut off at over 300! Many of these were sick little children."

Below is where I'm sending my check, just in case you're moved to do the same-

Field, shipping and correspondence, address (business address):
Rick & Carie Bernard
DMG 15171
100 Airport Ave
Venice, FL 34285

I used to see ads on television, when I had one, for groups like Save The Children. I never got out of my chair and took the action to help. Here I sit, comfortable in my little plot of the world, and this time it's my own niece I would be failing to support. So, I'm off to write and post a check in a minute.

First, because I know Molly will read this, I want to thank her and all the others in the world, who don't just talk the talk, but also walk the walk. I'm going to aspire to be more like her.

Be well!

On Retaining Our Childlike Wonder

This has been a recurring theme for me, but I think it's partly because I feel it is so important to hold on to so many of the qualities children naturally have and we grow ourselves out of.

The other night the trailer park I live in had a power outage. Actually, it was pretty widespread, but since I don't have a television anymore I didn't know that until the next day.

Several of my neighbors came out into the circular driveway that other neighborhoods would laughingly call a street, milling around and vocally worrying about how long the lights would be out.

I was right in the midst of it, thinking about how long my food would last in the refrigerator and what the morning would be like getting ready for work if the power didn't come on by then. After a few minutes, we all drifted back to our own units, my section is almost exclusively travel trailers and RVs. I almost went into Wanda to read by the lights powered by my alternate battery, but as I was climbing in I spied one of my votive candles.

Instead of retreating into the snugness of my bed, I opted for sitting outside with the candle for company. What a great experience it was! Because of the power being out, there were no televisions blaring or even the sound of air conditioners, which are exceptionally loud in trailers, in case you didn't know. What I heard as I sat there was the chirp of crickets - just like in a campground.

I threw my feet up on the "visitor's" chair and relaxed into my own collapsible sling chair with arms and a spot for my drink, sipped on a Kaluha and cream, and listened to the night. I faced myself toward the retaining wall behind Wanda, which keeps us from falling into the tiny creek that runs behind her. Along with the sound show, I could enjoy the rustle of the leaves coming from the big old trees that hang over both Wanda and the creek.

Because it was so quiet, I also heard the squirrels scrambling across the branches and rustling the leaves themselves a bit.

Just about the time I was really getting into it, the power came back on and I couldn't help the disappointed "oh" that escaped my lips. I could have sat there another hour before finally heading to bed, and relished every minute of it.

This is the type of enjoyment of simple things that I can clearly remember having as a kid. I remember traveling across country in back of my folk's station wagon, which had a slanted back window that I could press my head against, propped up on a pillow, and watch the stars go by. That was pure bliss.

These moments are given to us everyday, but the adult world enters with its worries and cares and yanks them away if we're not careful. I almost lost my half-hour of joy, worrying about silly things that were non-issues just moments later. Developing and maintaining our child-like wonder should be a high priority for us as adults. I swear it will keep us sane.

Here's to wishing you a short power outage in your life soon.

PS - the photo is of another of my tiny pleasures, a tiny garden!

The value of a firm handshake

I have had several unpleasant handshake experiences over the past few months, and I'm just wondering what happened to the firm American handshake?

Frankly, when you extend your hand in welcome, friendship and especially as a symbol of your honesty in business dealings it is simply creepy to get back a limp, clammy dead fish of a hand with absolutely no shake to it. Yuck!

But this happens way too often (once a decade is reasonable). I used to assume this kind of handshake was mainly relegated to the female of the species, but unfortunately I've run into a couple of men recently. I want to grasp their shoulders and shake them and announce, "That's not the way you do it!"

There's nothing more American than sealing a deal with a handshake. What does a lack of backbone on a handshake say about the person you've just sealed the deal with? Shady, weak-willed, anemic? I'm sorry, only older folks and those who are ill should deliver this type of handshake.

Boy, I'm passionate about this one.

Seriously, though, I've wanted to coach those who came looking for a job or wanted to offer me one when I've run into the limp handshaker. How can they expect to be taken seriously if they can't even deliver a confident handshake? Women especially must be cognizant of the impression the give when they clasp another hand in the business world. You must make the other person feel comfortable that you can handle what lays ahead or that they can trust you to stick to what you've offered in a job or business deal.

So, let's revive the good old-fashioned handshake, for the sake of all those who use it as a daily tool and especially to live up to our American ideals! Okay, that may be a little over the top, but you know what I mean.

Shake on it?

Loss of Awe

I lay in Wanda the other morning staring out the back window at the treetops that loom above my RV home. While I wasn't ignoring them, it dawned on me that I had lost a sense of awe I had when I first moved there. As soon as I realized I was taking for granted those deep green leaves attached to the wandering arms the old oak tree that stands at the back of my space and outlined against a pearly, aqua blue sky, I snapped out of it.

I saw again what I had seen the first time, incredible beauty there for me everyday of my ordinary life. There is a quote from Albert Einstein that seems so appropriate for what I'm trying to get at:

"There are only two ways to live your life. One is as though nothing is a miracle. The other is as though everything is a miracle." --A. Einstein

And isn't this true? It is so easy to lose our sense of wonder at the things we are surrounded by, because we experience them every day. They become commonplace to us. But they are anything but commonplace.

I visit my parents home about once a month now. When I could get there very rarely I would breathe deeply and feel a profound relaxation come over me. Now that I've been there about ten times since arriving in California, I realized the other day that I don't do that anymore.

Nothing has changed about the location, only my own desensitization has affected my outlook. I forgot to notice how wonderful the place is. By the way, that's a picture of their front yard. Looking out over BLM land from their backyard deck is even better. The turkeys and deer that wander across it every day think so too apparently.

So, I've vowed to try to incorporate a moment in each of my days to "stop and smell the roses," because really that's what life is all about.

It doesn't have to be the outdoors either. Perhaps, it's savoring the taste of that marvelous wine or appreciating the tinkling laughter of a child we pass in the mall or the smile of someone we love that we've seen everyday and don't realize how much we'll miss when they're not around. It's all the little things I am given every moment that I want to relish while I can.

Join me?

Downsizing all over my life

Now that I've downsized my living accommodations, it seems so natural to keep up the trend. I find I packed way too much stuff for my new lifestyle; too many dishes, too much "I might need this someday" stuff and amazingly too many clothes.

Yesterday I did myself a little favor. I saw this brightly colored basket and thought "Wouldn't that make a nice purse?" Then I proceeded to nearly talk myself out of it, because (as you can see in the background) the big, black purse I had been carrying held everything I would ever need. This little confection of a container clearly wouldn't. But my desire for more simplicity won out.

This morning I began transferring the absolute necessities and surprisingly, the little purse held nearly everything, except the old Dooney & Burke wallet I've carried for four years. Again, black leather and over-sized, the monstrosity had to go. So, today I picked up a $5 little red, zippered wallet, which is more like a pouch with a window than an actual wallet and again felt a bit more freedom.

Every part of my life seems overburdened somehow, and as I go through each week, I find myself throwing off the parts I don't need. I must be careful, though, to understand that many of those I speak to, are now in the midst of raising their families, feathering their nests, etc., so that not only does my joy at these small releases seem foreign to them, but in a way, it is a betrayal to the life they are in the middle of living.

When they look at me with a bit of wonder and a tiny bit of jealousy in their eyes, I am tempted to tell them not to worry that someday they will be here, too. But then I quickly remember you can't tell people things like that. They don't listen. I never did.

Those that look at me with tilted heads and glassed-over eyes don't understand, aren't jealous of my sense of freedom and will certainly never want to be released. And that is what makes this wonderful world go round...our differences. Hail to the Universe!

My muse has returned...and her name is Shirley

Those of you who know me well know I name everything. My RV is Wanda. My little Toyota Yaris is Bebe. My computer is Toby. Now, I've named my muse and she is proudly called Shirley.

Okay, I know this is a little wierd for most people. But what can I say? I need to name things to relate to them somehow. A name requires a personality. Shirley is perfect for my muse. She's a bit quirky like Shirley MacLaine and has a lot of spunk. You know anyone named Shirley has to have spunk.

Anyway, one of my favorite movies of all time is The Muse, with Albert Brooks. I confess, I love every movie Albert Brooks is in. He's funny and good-looking in a quirky kind of way (there's that word quirky again)and my God, can that man whine! There's an art to whining - truly there is - and Albert has it down.

In the film, Albert is a screenwriter (been there, done that) and he's horribly blocked. Sharon Stone comes to his rescue and that of several Hollywood personalities, like Rob Reiner and Marty Scorcese, because they all believe she is a muse - one of the seven sisters that were daughters of Zeus in mythology and inspired artists of literary, dance and musical persuasions.

Well, I don't believe I have a muse. I'm absolutely certain of it, because she's come home to roost again. I woke up in the middle of the night, inspired by a new character for my novel and dictated into a tape recorder, too sleepy to get up and type. I transcribed that tape this morning and I had nearly a 1,000 words!

I've struggled to get back into my fiction writing ever since I started into journalism in 2005. Non-fiction is such a different mindset and a writer must suppress the creative side to such a great degree that it's nearly painful. Along with the long hours in Maricopa, finishing the novel I was 309 pages into wasn't going to happen.

But now Shirley's here! I'd like to think it's an alter-ego, but I think the concept of muse has to stay separate from the writer and be acknowledged. Somewhere out in the Universe, I'm sure there's a colony of would-be muses learning their trade and "earning their wings" like Clarence in It's a Wonderful Life. Now that I've convinced you of what you may have suspected all along - that I'm a bit touched in the head - I'll leave you to consider finding your own muse.

In the meantime, tonight I'm setting up my computer so that I can get up and start typing when Shirley returns!

Morning pages unlock the subconscious

A book by Julie Cameron, entitled "The Artist's Way" has inspired me since 2005, but recently re-reading it has jump-started my serious writing.

The reason for this renewed spirit has been the revival of my "morning pages. Cameron's book contains vast wisdom about the nature of artists, which in her world includes writers, a feeling I subscribe to but isn't shared by everyone. It is an uncomplicated book with an uncomplicated way to find your muse. There are only two steps.

One is to commit to doing three pages of journal writing every morning just as you rise and are waking up. Sounds painful and boring doesn't it? Well, for the first few days it is a bit boring and then you let go of your inhibitions without even realizing it and low and behold ideas come to you, seemingly from nowhere. Putting words to empty pages is no longer an agonizing act. I'm not sure how it feels to painters and actors and such, but I suspect it's similar.

Floodgates just open. It's tricky for writers, but we especially want all our writings to be profound and meaningful. Well, after a few mornings of writing your pages, that idea becomes laughable. In fact, Cameron says that the biggest challenge for writers is not "writing" the pages - just letting them flow.

It worked so well for me before that I got 309 pages into a novel. I need to return to that novel as well as tackle my postings for SacramentoandBeyond.com, and I'm not sure why it took me so long to get back to first base. But I'm there and I recommend the process for anyone honestly searching for their inner artist.

The second step is something I embrace with equal enthusiasm, but is definitely not as effective at chipping away at my procrastination. Still, I am trying to follow her lead, and have planned my first Artist's Date in a very long time for next weekend.

Now the artist's date is a time set aside for you and your inner artist to just experience. She suggests trips to the toy store, pet store or park. Museums, art galleries, libraries, any place where you can be alone and explore. No others are allowed - just you and yourself. I remember my first artists date was a trip to Michael's the arts and crafts store. I really enjoyed wandering among all the aisles of do-it-yourself treasures. It was fun. I lost track of time and I came away with a sense of creation being just around the corner.

So, if you want to expand your creative side, try the morning pages and artist's date and even better, buy Cameron's book. It will be an investment in yourself that can't be beat.

Denial surrenders the battle

Two people that I love very much have grave health issues. They are choosing not to face those issues, but rather live in a denial of sorts.

One needs oxygen to make it easier on his body because he has COPD - Chronic Obstructive Pulmonary Disorder - but resists the need for oxygen as if giving into the canister of life-giving substance somehow reduces him, makes him an invalid. The truth is that without the oxygen he is much more of an invalid. Because of his stubbornness he is making his body work so much harder and probably ultimately denying his family his presence for a longer period of time. He also insists on doing too much, over-extending himself. We watch helplessly.

The other has just been diagnosed with a blockage in an artery of her brain. Rather than accept the offered help of her family, she chooses to continue on as if nothing has changed. No help around the house. No reduction in her activities. No giving in. Or so she thinks.

The truth is that while they both feel they are acting bravely, they are really simply sabotaging themselves. Any great general would tell you that it does no good to fight an enemy without admitting that enemy's strengths. Any disease has a certain power over you, and simply denying or refusing to recognize that power in essence increased it's power.

Marching into battle pretending that the enemy doesn't have cannons or that there aren't archers in the bushes shooting arrows at your army doesn't make any sense, yet repeatedly I've seen sick people just ignore their illness, thinking that somehow they will prevail.

Doesn't it make far more sense to do everything you can to help your body fight the disease? Rest when you need to. Reduce the stress of everyday living by accepting the help of others. Put the oxygen mask on and inhale deeply. Take your meds without complaint. In many cases, they keep you alive.

Most of the time, sick people get angry at being sick. Of course they do. It's something to get mad about. However, I lived through being the fall guy once, watched others take the heat for their loved ones anger and now am watching it happen again. While I completely understand the anger, I wish I could make the ones I love understand that pushing away the support of your family and letting your anger out on them, isn't the right way to go.

This is a very personal post, but there are lessons in it. For the healthy who are dealing with a sick person, try to hang in there and give them the support they will so often try to resist, but don't let yourself become a whipping post. If you are dealing with an illness yourself, try to think of it as a battle that can be won, at least to some degree and remember that it is painful for those who love you not to be allowed to help.

And for those of you who don't fall into either category, thank your lucky stars!

Oh, to be 12 again...

Our Father's Day family picnic was on Saturday, instead of Sunday, and required an hour and a half drive from Sacramento, but it was well worth it. Two miles outside Oakdale, California, there was a picnic area right along the Stanislaus River and it was equipped with a rope for swinging out and falling into the lazy pooled water on our side of the river.

Every part of me longed to put on my bathing suit and swashbuckle out over the river, let go and plop into the tantalizing liquid with a big splash. I could feel the silky water on my skin and hear my own laughter as I burst from under the cold water. I haven't wanted to go back to twelve-years-old for years, but on Saturday, I really wanted to quit being a grownup for an hour and just play.

The desire was so strong and sense of identifying with the age of twelve so clear, that it gave me pause. What was it about being 12?

Well, at that age, we really don't know how anything is going to turn out and certainly don't care. Tomorrow is about as far down the road as we can see. We don't feel consequences hanging over our heads.

Our sense of self hasn't yet been destroyed by the treacherous teenage years. We're poised between childhood and just enough adulthood not to want to ask if we can risk a swoop and drop into a river. We're confident enough to try it, without a lot of coaxing. That's what we (members of the human race) are like at age 12.

I would never want to go through the intervening years between 12 and 40 again. You couldn't pay me enough to do it. But if I could have another day of being twelve, with an awareness of it, boy would I have fun.

I'd play softball, basketball and toss a football around for a while. I'd run like the wind, until I couldn't anymore. I'd climb a tree and I would definitely swing out over a river and drop gleefully into it.

Wouldn't it be wonderful to go back for just one day?

Life According to “The Puppies”

I babysat one of my sisters’ houses over the past week, but the real reason I was there was to look out for “The Puppies.” Take one look in the picture above and you can see that these two are hardly puppies. That’s Indy on the left, a bright, beautiful girl, who could lead any pack. Her companion, on the right, is a big, lovable lug called Cabo. The big orange bulb in the front of the picture is a highly prized squeaky toy that basically drives their leisure world.

Oh, there are other toys, some much better looking and most about as interesting as this one, yet this is the desired prize of numerous tosses across the yard. Both of them scramble to get there before the other, but it is truly a sight to see Indy calculate in less than a second that one direction around the pool is quicker to get to the orange blob than the other. Cabo is either incapable of making the leap in logic or simply doesn't care to bother.

Even when Indy beats Cabo to the orange blob, which I began to call Bob for some reason, she usually gives up the beasty to Cabo, nearly instantly. Bob is exchanged from drooling mouth to drooling mouth and Cabo struts around the yard, just as if he was actually the one to make the capture. I found this an interesting dynamic and wondered if perhaps it proves that the male and female of both species (canine and human)didn’t share some common traits.

Indy also tolerated Cabo’s reluctance to give Bob back to me so that I could toss it again. Until, of course, his hesitancy got in the way of the game and I expressed frustration. All it took was a baleful look in her direction and a plaintive “Indy?” and she would yank Bob away from Cabo and promptly drop it back in the pool, where I was lying on a lounge an arm’s length away. As Bob bobbed in the water (oh, that’s why I called him Bob), I realized the very first time that Indy was the boss, but was good at keeping that fact from Cabo, obviously to preserve his manhood. Oops, manhood can’t be the right word, but you know what I mean.

So, perhaps, the male/female struggle we are all involved in on a daily basis, is truly a cosmic battle, reflected by the simple interactions between even the animal world around us.

I’ve decided to observe other creature couples to see if this theory can be supported. I’ll get back to you on that.

Starting out in this World

One high school graduation may seem just like the next to the antsy family observer. There is a difference however - a big one. Each batch of kids to joyfully accept that diploma holds a different set of possibilities. Who will rise from the group I watched traipse across the riser last Friday night to give the world something special? Whether they skipped or walked solemnly, each one had a world of endless possibilities awaiting them and they seemed to know it.

My niece, Molly, pictured here with my sister, Marty and brother-in-law, Dave, was as excited as any of the rest of her fellow classmates. But she said to me that it didn't feel real. When does it ever feel real? I wonder if it's something like that for the Olympic athletes that finally win a medal? Or those that garner a Pulitzer Prize? At the time, I suspect, it never feels real.

But the world out there is real and watching about 800 kids assembled, giggling and anxious, was a natural high. If I could just have one slice of their energy to take to my next project! If somehow, I could put the dreams they have on display so I won't forget my own!

I know that Molly will go on to do great things. She's been volunteering with her church during her summers to help poor children in the Dominican Republic. The experience helped her decide to become a nurse. I can't wait to see how her life turns out...and those of my daughter, son, and other nieces and nephews. As their stories unfold, I get to be a part of it. Isn't that exciting in itself?

Life is a great adventure and sometimes watching the younger generation can be almost as much fun as doing it yourself.