Never too Late - Life Lesson #1

I knew who I was but not where I was going. Then I let them tell me where I should go instead of exploring for myself. 

Stood there boldly

Sweatin the sun

Felt like a million

Felt like number one

I never felt that strong

Like a rock

            --Bob Seger

We were all there but never knew that was our place in the sun. Our place where we shone with a light so bright the world was ours. Had we known it was ours to take there might have been some better decisions. Less regrets. Less wishing for that do over.

The do over comes I believe, later, in the next life, the next go round on this planet or the next.

Some things ring true. Some things touch that space where the soul lives.

Hemmingway

Van Gogh

Poe

Especially Poe

Sometimes I wonder if the connections we have to these people from history is linked to another life, another existence we once had. Did the shiver we experienced when we walked thought Hemmingway’s house give a glimpse into a life we once passed through in another form? When tears form at the mention of Poe’s name does that show us something more than what we learned from books? The emotion so deep that flows up from the depths of the well of our soul when we stand in front of the original Starry Night from Van Gogh  does that mean something more?

Is time travel real or just an interpretation of the lives we’ve been reincarnated through? Can our next life put us in the time of Poe, the city he saw, the steps he took? Who says we reincarnate forward into a new life, perhaps we can go into any time and live beside those who inspire us today? Or perhaps we did live there and that’s the attraction we have to them now.

I believe the brave pursue their dreams. I’m not sure that’s easy to do when we marry too young or start a family before we’ve sought out our dreams. I think dreams should come first. Especially for those with creative dreams. Those are the hardest to cultivate in our society. Go out, make money, and forsake the dreams of your soul for that so-called American Dream. Happy house, picket fence, kids and a dog.

I’ve lived it, but somewhere deep inside I never understood it. A restlessness stayed with me through it all. Like something was missing. Something was out there and just beyond my vision. Beyond my reach.

Robert Frost knew it. He spoke of that road not taken and the bravery to walk that path.

It’s never too late to dream a new dream or plan a new plan. Here at 61 I’m seeking that which has eluded me all these years. I feel the years but they don’t make me stubble yet, they don’t stop me from seeking that which was missing, that which was lost.

Here I start a new adventure, a new business. One of art and sharing this creativity.  One I never dreamed to achieve.

Updates to follow…..

A Writer's Block Kind of Week

Absolutely no writing this week and I'm feeling really bad about that fact. When I step away from a story too long I feel a bit of a disconnect somewhere in my ...well, not my brain really...more like my soul, that inner emotional connection that helps me to live and breathe the characters.

Last Sunday my credit card got hacked and I guess I went a little nutzo. I think it was such a shock since I always guard my card super uber carefully. I double check every time I put it in my purse, never use it on shady sites or places. I think it was the guy in that little liquor store I stopped in on Saturday night but the bank is investigating. Kudos to my bank for catching this so fast. They were great. They asked if we catch who did this would I prosecute? HELL YES!

Last Saturday the groomer found a lump on Gracie's (my Shih Tzu) paw. Vet visit on Monday.  She went for surgery on Friday. She's home now and limping but should get better. We're just waiting on the biopsy.

Then we see the horrible things that happened in Boston. I have friends who are avid runners, luckily, after a few calls we find out everyone is safe. But the images of this tragedy have a way of staying with us.
My daughter used to live in Watertown, its a beautiful little community and we spent the week sending prayers up to the people there.

We're still reeling from Boston and that big explosion happens in Texas. Something that didn't get enough press this week. So many dead and injured. I still haven't heard how it happened. Our healing thoughts and prayers go out to them too.

Too much on my mind to write. Every time I'd steal a few minutes to write I just couldn't concentrate. My mind was going in a million different directions. I'd turn the T.V. off, sit and wonder what was going on in the world. Get nothing done. Turn T.V. back on. Get nothing done.

Discipline!

Read through the pages. Try to write.Try to get my head back into the story.

Get nothing done. Give up. Go cuddle dog.

Let's hope the planets align, the world calms and peace and healing descends on our little planet. Let's have a good week peeps.

Cubes, Writers, and Work

I fear the cube. I did it for a while, sat in the cube processing papers and managing nonsense for others.

And it ate my soul.

I know we need day jobs. I know the day job supports the real joy of our souls but I think it also works to stop the flow of creativity.

I think the brains of writers and artists are wired differently. These brains need space. They need room to breathe creativity in and out like most need oxygen.

Cubicles suck the creativity out of the brain. Its like the cube is a crushing box pushing and shoving the brain into a cramped square where no words can escape. No art can flow. It's where the voices in your head stop talking.

I have an interview tomorrow. I fear the outcome but not for the reasons most would think. Does this make me crazy?

Discipline...

Discipline; that scary place between want and acquire. If you want to reach the stars you have to cut through the crap and find your way. It should be a four letter word this Discipline. If you are in front of the Discipline process you look forward with hope and inspiration. When you reach the other side you look back with pride and accomplishment. But that scary place inbetween can be a real problem. Especially when hope has such a tendency to fluxuate. It rises and falls with the tide. When up, discipline steps forward and pushes you along. When it wanes, hope falters, that star you're reaching for seems to move further our of reach.
Which is the challenge. How do you keep the hope alive so dicsipline can guide you?

Howling and Dancing

When my kids were younger I'd yell "FULL MOON" and we'd race out to the back deck and Howl at the moon. Full out, yeooowlly howls at the top of our lungs.

When it rained we kicked off our shoes and danced on the front lawn.

When we wanted a snow day we danced on the lawn too. The crazy, mystic dance of the snowflake.

When bored we'd paint the windows per the season (Tazmanian Devil with a Santa hat) or, when dh wasn't home, we'd do something on the walls. Diamond Head lives on my office wall now. With parrots sitting on the painted ledge and a wild palm tree hanging half in a painted window.

Okay, so the neighbors were never too friendly--can't imagine why??? But we had fun and I think this helped make them optimistic and creative.

I hope it showed them that the different drummer can be exciting and fun. That beauty should be celebrated with howls and dancing, art is something everyone can do and no matter what you do--have fun. Rainy days are never bad when you dance your way through.