Life. . . been a heck of a year so far. 2020. The year we all stayed home. I had plenty in mind for this year, and though it's not over yet, it's certainly different. So, I'm editing my 2020 accomplishments. . .
Instead of my list of resolutions/goals/wishes for 2020, I thought I would share a list of everything I accomplished in 2020. It's been an amazing year! I ended 2019 with many hopeful aspirations, and I accomplished all of them!
1) Wrote, edited, rewrote and published a book - working on it!
2) Won a short story contest and was published in a magazine - didn't win my first submission, but I'm still working on it!
3) Traveled to Italy to see Valentino Rossi make the podium in Mugello for MotoGP - canceled, this will happen in 2021, but Valentino will likely retire so. . .
4) Took writing classes with Paige and we impressed everyone with our creativity - did it. We attended four classes, then all was canceled. We'll go back in the Fall.
5) Walked and went to the gym religiously and now I fit in my favorite pair of Levi's - um, yeah, quarantine happened and food/drink/lounging (not lunging) has ruled. There is still plenty of time, so I'm working on it!
6) I saw so many live musical performances, I cannot even list them all - streaming live counts, so I'm still working on it!
7) I volunteered for public speaking events and did a great job - 2021 here I come!
8) I stayed in constant contact with my sister through writing letters, texts and phone calls
9) I started each day doing something that served my soul --- prayed, jumped, walked, laughed. . .
10) I won the lottery!
How was your 2020?
Friday, December 27, 2019
Monday, December 23, 2019
Papa Day
It's my Dad's birthday today. He would be 82. I can imagine him at 82. Still sharp, still funny, but maybe a little slower, maybe a little less inclined to cook for 30 people.
It's been 10 years since he died. I was mad at him on the day he died. I lived with the guilt of that for some time, yet despite my anger at him --- not even sure why I was angry --- I didn't discount the love we had for each other.
Oddly, I've grown closer to him in the past 10 years --- as I've grown and matured, I've been able to see what a good Dad he was, how he gave and gave and gave.
I think of the song Forever by Rascall Flatts every once in a while. I feel it was written to my dad from me --- It wasn't long enough, we were just getting started. But it was long enough to last forever.
My kids tell stories about my dad that I've told them, or that they've heard from their Aunt and Uncles. He lives on.
I walk with him every day. This morning was no exception. I put in my headphones and walked, noticing the stars, then the opening of the day, the birds, the dogs, the leaves. . . sometimes Sinatra belts a song to me and I hear his voice and see him dancing; sometimes I see an errant dandelion in the winter grass; sometimes the smell of his sauce wakes me up at night, and my stomach growls.
He lives on. He lives on in my brother's eyes, in my sister's laughter, in my mother's gaze.
I think that if he could make a wish today, he would wish goodness for all of us. He would wish that we let go of the things we cannot control, that we stay in the present moment, and that we are grateful for what we have. He would want us to take a big breath, and blow out all 82 candles --- blowing away the things that do not serve us in this lifetime. He would want us to know his love in our hearts, and lead our days with it.
I miss you Dad, but I'm also pretty amazed at how you are still so present in my life. Thank you.
It's been 10 years since he died. I was mad at him on the day he died. I lived with the guilt of that for some time, yet despite my anger at him --- not even sure why I was angry --- I didn't discount the love we had for each other.
Oddly, I've grown closer to him in the past 10 years --- as I've grown and matured, I've been able to see what a good Dad he was, how he gave and gave and gave.
I think of the song Forever by Rascall Flatts every once in a while. I feel it was written to my dad from me --- It wasn't long enough, we were just getting started. But it was long enough to last forever.
My kids tell stories about my dad that I've told them, or that they've heard from their Aunt and Uncles. He lives on.
I walk with him every day. This morning was no exception. I put in my headphones and walked, noticing the stars, then the opening of the day, the birds, the dogs, the leaves. . . sometimes Sinatra belts a song to me and I hear his voice and see him dancing; sometimes I see an errant dandelion in the winter grass; sometimes the smell of his sauce wakes me up at night, and my stomach growls.
He lives on. He lives on in my brother's eyes, in my sister's laughter, in my mother's gaze.
I think that if he could make a wish today, he would wish goodness for all of us. He would wish that we let go of the things we cannot control, that we stay in the present moment, and that we are grateful for what we have. He would want us to take a big breath, and blow out all 82 candles --- blowing away the things that do not serve us in this lifetime. He would want us to know his love in our hearts, and lead our days with it.
I miss you Dad, but I'm also pretty amazed at how you are still so present in my life. Thank you.
Thursday, December 19, 2019
Mind, Body & Spirit
It's been a long time since I contemplated the relationship between the mind, body and spirit. I suppose it's because I got caught up in the web of the mind for quite awhile, and simply forgot about the spirit and disregarded the body. Believe me, it's an evident fact.
This morning, I rolled myself out of bed, sleepy but determined to throw on a scarf, hat, gloves and heavy jacket for my morning walk. And I did. I got about a quarter of a mile and realized I never put Tony's clothes in the dryer, and without dry clothes he would 1) go to school in shorts or 2) rationalize that it was a reason to skip school. I sighed and turned back home. Women multi-task. That's the point of that paragraph.
Back outside, I started to walk. I thought about the characters in my book --- where I want them to start and where I want them to end up. The voices, the stories, the looks, the laughs and the music played inside my head, weaving in and out of each other. When I finally came back into reality, I had already walked a mile.
It got me thinking. I can say that my mind took me on that journey through the characters, and that because I was using my body at the same time, I was able to fully engage in the process. Yet, and this is the important part, I wasn't fully engaged in the process. Something else took over.
I think that anyone who writes, plays a sport that requires focus, draws or builds plans can relate. There is a period of time where your mind is not conscious of its actions or thoughts, it just does things, and next thing you know, an hour has passed and you're so excited that a product came out of it.
I am addicted to that part of things --- when my conscious mind turns off and I just exist in the area where I can float. Sadly, when the mind, spirit and body are not connected, that area where I float is often occupied by an escape mechanism --- doing puzzles, playing games on my phone, scanning the web, drinking. . .
Today I recognized myself inside that mix of mind, body and spirit, and realized that when all three are connected in a healthy way, it's an amazing experience.
I always believed in "gut instinct" and listening to that voice inside of you, but I never put it all together. Now, I believe that my "gut instinct" is really my fundamental self speaking to me --- the one that cautions me, kindly, against doing something I might regret later; the one that tells me to turn down a different road because the car on the side of the road looks suspicious, the one that checks in on my daughter and finds that she needed me to call her in that moment.
I realized that I am so lucky because that little voice --- that little me --- is my best friend. It's like meeting someone who knows your entire past, your entire present, all the people you know, all the memories that made or broke you, all your fears, and all your thoughts. She can then move between the good things, the important things, and advise you on where to go and what to say. She's that spirit part of me. My voice. The one that gives me words. My brain gives me the ability to put them in order, but my voice tells me what to say, what emotion is tied to whatever I am thinking, and then we move and float until it's there. I imagine it's a lot like putting a symphony together.
That's addictive.
The floating sensation inside is what is truly real --- the actual truth. Here's an example: There is a small house cat that that stops in front of you, stares directly in your eyes and hisses.
Your brain: Fuck, that cat's possessed. Your body: tense, ready to run. Your spirit: it's a scared cat.
I know that's basic, but it's how I see it. Your brain creates a story or a belief or a lie in order to rationalize the actions of the cat.
I don't know if any of this makes sense. I really don't care either, if I'm honest.
Just feels good to physically sit here, let my brain work the keyboard, and write whatever comes to me.
This morning, I rolled myself out of bed, sleepy but determined to throw on a scarf, hat, gloves and heavy jacket for my morning walk. And I did. I got about a quarter of a mile and realized I never put Tony's clothes in the dryer, and without dry clothes he would 1) go to school in shorts or 2) rationalize that it was a reason to skip school. I sighed and turned back home. Women multi-task. That's the point of that paragraph.
Back outside, I started to walk. I thought about the characters in my book --- where I want them to start and where I want them to end up. The voices, the stories, the looks, the laughs and the music played inside my head, weaving in and out of each other. When I finally came back into reality, I had already walked a mile.
It got me thinking. I can say that my mind took me on that journey through the characters, and that because I was using my body at the same time, I was able to fully engage in the process. Yet, and this is the important part, I wasn't fully engaged in the process. Something else took over.
I think that anyone who writes, plays a sport that requires focus, draws or builds plans can relate. There is a period of time where your mind is not conscious of its actions or thoughts, it just does things, and next thing you know, an hour has passed and you're so excited that a product came out of it.
I am addicted to that part of things --- when my conscious mind turns off and I just exist in the area where I can float. Sadly, when the mind, spirit and body are not connected, that area where I float is often occupied by an escape mechanism --- doing puzzles, playing games on my phone, scanning the web, drinking. . .
Today I recognized myself inside that mix of mind, body and spirit, and realized that when all three are connected in a healthy way, it's an amazing experience.
I always believed in "gut instinct" and listening to that voice inside of you, but I never put it all together. Now, I believe that my "gut instinct" is really my fundamental self speaking to me --- the one that cautions me, kindly, against doing something I might regret later; the one that tells me to turn down a different road because the car on the side of the road looks suspicious, the one that checks in on my daughter and finds that she needed me to call her in that moment.
I realized that I am so lucky because that little voice --- that little me --- is my best friend. It's like meeting someone who knows your entire past, your entire present, all the people you know, all the memories that made or broke you, all your fears, and all your thoughts. She can then move between the good things, the important things, and advise you on where to go and what to say. She's that spirit part of me. My voice. The one that gives me words. My brain gives me the ability to put them in order, but my voice tells me what to say, what emotion is tied to whatever I am thinking, and then we move and float until it's there. I imagine it's a lot like putting a symphony together.
That's addictive.
The floating sensation inside is what is truly real --- the actual truth. Here's an example: There is a small house cat that that stops in front of you, stares directly in your eyes and hisses.
Your brain: Fuck, that cat's possessed. Your body: tense, ready to run. Your spirit: it's a scared cat.
I know that's basic, but it's how I see it. Your brain creates a story or a belief or a lie in order to rationalize the actions of the cat.
I don't know if any of this makes sense. I really don't care either, if I'm honest.
Just feels good to physically sit here, let my brain work the keyboard, and write whatever comes to me.
Tuesday, December 17, 2019
The Power Inside
Many squats, push ups and planks later. . .
My body is screaming --- inner thighs, inner rib cage (there's muscle there?), shoulder blades, biceps. . .
Ah. Feels good.
I listened to an Eminem song and he talks about exorcising his demons, having them do jumping jacks. It's a nice play on words, and as my lungs fill and release, I understand.
I've spent many years feeding the demons, making them stronger, and giving them a voice. We've all got them, unfortunately, and we let them grown inside us, overtaking our heart and our soul.
Good news for us. They only live in our tiny brain, on a couple of circuits that seem to hold all the power. I'm no electrician, but I know that you can break a circuit and rewire it so that a light shines somewhere else.
In an unabashed way, I am going to mix metaphors and say that I pulled the plug, I plucked the weeds, and stomped on the badness. It wasn't too hard either. If you read my posts previous to this one, you'll see that I told negativity to beat it, and I dropped my need for escaping into my phone --- playing games and counting likes or dislikes.
It's refreshing.
For the past three mornings, despite my chest cold and raw throat, I've gone to bed before 9:00 p.m., set my alarm to wake before 6:00 a.m. and I've been entertained by crazy dreams that wake me, force me to take a couple gulps of water, snuggle in with the cat, and endeavor in some more. Yesterday I dreamed of a recipe for grilled cauliflower --- it looked delicious, and I can hardly wait to try it.
When my alarm goes off, I wake up without hesitation, throw on my sneakers and get out the door.
I've settled for gazing at the stars instead of shooting for the moon because sometimes life is just about that. Life is just about gazing at the stars. . . taking a moment to relax and just be.
I'm not all that big into meditation, but I did it a few times over the past couple of weeks and man, hearing a voice that isn't the voice of one of those demons that I created, is quite powerful.
I'm sure I have a couple demons lurking in my brain somewhere, hiding like a coward until it can prey on me in a weak moment, but for now, I'm fine. I don't think the demons like me gazing at the stars, and breathing deeply and telling them to fuck off, but they can be strong in a weak, cowardly sort of way, and so they'll be back.
But I'm ready to electrocute them. I have power inside, a fire inside and a short attention span for stupidity.
Plus, I have a pair of old Levi's in my closet that aren't going to where themselves. . .
My body is screaming --- inner thighs, inner rib cage (there's muscle there?), shoulder blades, biceps. . .
Ah. Feels good.
I listened to an Eminem song and he talks about exorcising his demons, having them do jumping jacks. It's a nice play on words, and as my lungs fill and release, I understand.
I've spent many years feeding the demons, making them stronger, and giving them a voice. We've all got them, unfortunately, and we let them grown inside us, overtaking our heart and our soul.
Good news for us. They only live in our tiny brain, on a couple of circuits that seem to hold all the power. I'm no electrician, but I know that you can break a circuit and rewire it so that a light shines somewhere else.
In an unabashed way, I am going to mix metaphors and say that I pulled the plug, I plucked the weeds, and stomped on the badness. It wasn't too hard either. If you read my posts previous to this one, you'll see that I told negativity to beat it, and I dropped my need for escaping into my phone --- playing games and counting likes or dislikes.
It's refreshing.
For the past three mornings, despite my chest cold and raw throat, I've gone to bed before 9:00 p.m., set my alarm to wake before 6:00 a.m. and I've been entertained by crazy dreams that wake me, force me to take a couple gulps of water, snuggle in with the cat, and endeavor in some more. Yesterday I dreamed of a recipe for grilled cauliflower --- it looked delicious, and I can hardly wait to try it.
When my alarm goes off, I wake up without hesitation, throw on my sneakers and get out the door.
I've settled for gazing at the stars instead of shooting for the moon because sometimes life is just about that. Life is just about gazing at the stars. . . taking a moment to relax and just be.
I'm not all that big into meditation, but I did it a few times over the past couple of weeks and man, hearing a voice that isn't the voice of one of those demons that I created, is quite powerful.
I'm sure I have a couple demons lurking in my brain somewhere, hiding like a coward until it can prey on me in a weak moment, but for now, I'm fine. I don't think the demons like me gazing at the stars, and breathing deeply and telling them to fuck off, but they can be strong in a weak, cowardly sort of way, and so they'll be back.
But I'm ready to electrocute them. I have power inside, a fire inside and a short attention span for stupidity.
Plus, I have a pair of old Levi's in my closet that aren't going to where themselves. . .
Sunday, December 15, 2019
Simplicity
Because I woke with a full chest, a raw throat and no voice, I decided to take the day and live it simply. Tony was feeling lousy too, so we each had a cup of tea, and watched a Family Guy at wake up. My throat was still raw, and my eyes were drooping in exhaustion. So a half hour after waking, I went back to bed.
I woke a couple hours later, jumped in the shower, had a piece of pizza for lunch and walked over to the salon for a pedicure. I didn't pull out my phone and check Facebook or play a game, I just sat in the chair and talked to the woman who was doing such a sensational job on my feet. We giggled some, I paid and walked back home.
My brother is in town, and he said he'd take care of dinner. Perfect.
Tony and I sat on the sofa and put on Shrek. I fell asleep five minutes after it started and woke five minutes before it ended.
Dinner was ready. I ate and watched shows until it was time to pick Paige up from her friend's house.
When she got home, we sat down and she shared the happenings of her day with me while we played a game of Aces Wild. She beat me by 250 points. Whatever.
We laughed some. Then bed.
No make-up, no stress, no worries - just tea, pizza, a good dinner, a few great laughs, a sore throat and a lot of sleep. Easy.
Today, when I awoke, I felt refreshed. I threw on a pair of sneakers and walked a couple miles, stopped to get some coffee for myself and my brother, sat down and decided to write. In a couple hours, I will make Lasagna with Paige.
I'd mark this weekend as a good one. Simply a low-key couple of days for a body that needs to heal.
How was your weekend?
I woke a couple hours later, jumped in the shower, had a piece of pizza for lunch and walked over to the salon for a pedicure. I didn't pull out my phone and check Facebook or play a game, I just sat in the chair and talked to the woman who was doing such a sensational job on my feet. We giggled some, I paid and walked back home.
My brother is in town, and he said he'd take care of dinner. Perfect.
Tony and I sat on the sofa and put on Shrek. I fell asleep five minutes after it started and woke five minutes before it ended.
Dinner was ready. I ate and watched shows until it was time to pick Paige up from her friend's house.
When she got home, we sat down and she shared the happenings of her day with me while we played a game of Aces Wild. She beat me by 250 points. Whatever.
We laughed some. Then bed.
No make-up, no stress, no worries - just tea, pizza, a good dinner, a few great laughs, a sore throat and a lot of sleep. Easy.
Today, when I awoke, I felt refreshed. I threw on a pair of sneakers and walked a couple miles, stopped to get some coffee for myself and my brother, sat down and decided to write. In a couple hours, I will make Lasagna with Paige.
I'd mark this weekend as a good one. Simply a low-key couple of days for a body that needs to heal.
How was your weekend?
Thursday, December 12, 2019
Beautiful You
I spent some time over the past few days reflecting on the things in my tiny, little brain that keep me from opening up my gigantic and loving soul. It took me some time to discover a few things, but only seconds to get rid of the one big one: Negativity.
Negativity about myself, about my capabilities, about my looks, about my truth.
Fuck that negativity.
It was an ironic truth that in order for me to get rid of the negativity, I had to get really negative -- raging mad at it, to the the point that I held my head up in defiance, clenched my fists at my sides, puffed my chest and even had shaking legs as I tightened my jaw and stared forward --- such determination, such anger!
Fuck that negativity. It doesn't serve me. It has never served me.
Imagine a girl, nineteen or twenty years old, clear skin, dark beautiful thick hair, curvy and smart. Imagine the dimples on her face, and an incredible smile that lit up the room when she lived in heart and not in her head. Imagine her getting ready to go to a party with her girlfriends --- Bon Jovi or the Scorpions blasting loudly as she and her college roommates fixed their hair and make-up for a night of laughing and dancing. Imagine that girl grabbing a pair of size 4 or 6 or 8 Levi's, putting them on, grabbing a sweater, flipping her hair and then looking into the mirror with a smile.
She sees her true self, and looks great.
Then her stupid mind decides to chime in --- you're fat, you're ugly, that zit hidden behind your ear is gross, your dimple sizes don't match, your eyes have bags, black circles, and you're stupid.
Fuck that negativity! It does not serve you!
She spends the next half hour crying, trying on different clothes, removing and reapplying her make-up, and more time. . . it passes.
She works at her outside. Her friends tell her she's gorgeous, "come on, let's go," but she doesn't believe it. She goes anyway and is so inside her head that she doesn't even know what's happening around her, doesn't remember to this day how that night was, just remembers how shitty she felt inside her tiny little mind.
Fuck negativity. It does not serve you.
What was the reality? She was beautiful! So very pretty. So very blessed. That smile? Magical.
When did it come out? It came out when she shut off her brain, had a 25 cent beer, relaxed, and ah. . . smile, more smiles, reciprocated smiles, dancing, laughter. Beauty reigned. She could have been wearing Halloween make-up with blacked out teeth and she was still gorgeous because she lived through her heart; she tapped into her soul in those moments and made herself and everything around her beautiful.
Fuck negativity. It does not serve you. It darkens everything, so fuck it.
Fast forward twenty plus years. Twenty years later and she plays the same record, feels the same way. So she silences it with a glass of wine, a movie, a shot, a nap, a game on her phone, Facebook, Instagram, Snapchat --- likes, dislikes, likes. How come I don't get more likes? Oh God, why am I so fat, so old, so wrinkled? New negativity. Bad habits. Please silence the voice --- have a drink, write a post, pay money for more coins on your game, more drinks, more tweets, more likes and dislikes. . .
See the pattern?
Fuck that negativity. Fuck its power. Fuck it.
The woman now? Amazing. Free. Free. Free. Empty of the darkening thoughts but full. AMAZING.
So fuck those bad thoughts. They do not serve you. Beautiful you.
Negativity about myself, about my capabilities, about my looks, about my truth.
Fuck that negativity.
It was an ironic truth that in order for me to get rid of the negativity, I had to get really negative -- raging mad at it, to the the point that I held my head up in defiance, clenched my fists at my sides, puffed my chest and even had shaking legs as I tightened my jaw and stared forward --- such determination, such anger!
Fuck that negativity. It doesn't serve me. It has never served me.
Imagine a girl, nineteen or twenty years old, clear skin, dark beautiful thick hair, curvy and smart. Imagine the dimples on her face, and an incredible smile that lit up the room when she lived in heart and not in her head. Imagine her getting ready to go to a party with her girlfriends --- Bon Jovi or the Scorpions blasting loudly as she and her college roommates fixed their hair and make-up for a night of laughing and dancing. Imagine that girl grabbing a pair of size 4 or 6 or 8 Levi's, putting them on, grabbing a sweater, flipping her hair and then looking into the mirror with a smile.
She sees her true self, and looks great.
Then her stupid mind decides to chime in --- you're fat, you're ugly, that zit hidden behind your ear is gross, your dimple sizes don't match, your eyes have bags, black circles, and you're stupid.
Fuck that negativity! It does not serve you!
She spends the next half hour crying, trying on different clothes, removing and reapplying her make-up, and more time. . . it passes.
She works at her outside. Her friends tell her she's gorgeous, "come on, let's go," but she doesn't believe it. She goes anyway and is so inside her head that she doesn't even know what's happening around her, doesn't remember to this day how that night was, just remembers how shitty she felt inside her tiny little mind.
Fuck negativity. It does not serve you.
What was the reality? She was beautiful! So very pretty. So very blessed. That smile? Magical.
When did it come out? It came out when she shut off her brain, had a 25 cent beer, relaxed, and ah. . . smile, more smiles, reciprocated smiles, dancing, laughter. Beauty reigned. She could have been wearing Halloween make-up with blacked out teeth and she was still gorgeous because she lived through her heart; she tapped into her soul in those moments and made herself and everything around her beautiful.
Fuck negativity. It does not serve you. It darkens everything, so fuck it.
Fast forward twenty plus years. Twenty years later and she plays the same record, feels the same way. So she silences it with a glass of wine, a movie, a shot, a nap, a game on her phone, Facebook, Instagram, Snapchat --- likes, dislikes, likes. How come I don't get more likes? Oh God, why am I so fat, so old, so wrinkled? New negativity. Bad habits. Please silence the voice --- have a drink, write a post, pay money for more coins on your game, more drinks, more tweets, more likes and dislikes. . .
See the pattern?
Fuck that negativity. Fuck its power. Fuck it.
The woman now? Amazing. Free. Free. Free. Empty of the darkening thoughts but full. AMAZING.
So fuck those bad thoughts. They do not serve you. Beautiful you.
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