Inspire Me Sunday

Life is short and life is fragile.

It isn't too soon to make a decision.
It isn't too late to make a change.

Say what you need to say.
Do what you want to do.

Life doesn't wait. We shouldn't either.

Inspire Me Sunday

Find life experiences and swallow them whole. Travel. Meet many people. Go down some dead ends and explore dark alleys. Try everything. Exhaust yourself in the glorious pursuit of life.

Anonymous

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Are you pursuing life?

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Tell me how.

Keep It Real Tuesday

Dark Driving

It was getting to be evening. Eight-thirty or nine or so, I don't much remember, because time wasn't on my mind.

What I do remember is that I was nestled in dark, driving on a two-lane country highway. It was a straight stretch, nothing curvy or hilly or difficult to navigate. No cars around.

Which was why I followed the impulse and took my glasses off.

The road blurred; I could see only that it was illuminated by my headlights.

First there was discomfort. This isn't what good, safe drivers do. This doesn't keep me aware, ready for one of those populous deer, or some other animal, or a parked and watching police officer who catches me crossing over the center line.

I couldn't even see the numbers on the speedometer, my vision is that bad.

But then came liberation. Liberation. I felt it from my hands, as they held the wheel, to my feet, near the pedals.

Because I knew where I was going. And I trusted myself, and I trusted what is bigger than me. I trusted the moment. It came to me that nothing bad was going to happen.

Actually, something good happened.

I gave up control.

And that gave me a great peace, just driving in the dark.

Inspire Me Sunday

But the point is to live.

The Myth of Sisyphus

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I want to live how my heart and soul are happiest, I think that's the point.

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I want to live honestly and authentically.

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I want to be fully aware of myself, but more aware of others.

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I want to mind my path, but be open to detour.

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I want to be moral, but not innocent.

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I want to freely give, without being frivolous.

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I want.

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I need.

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But, whatever, the point is to live.

Keep It Real Tuesday

Wanted

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Newly divorced mom, writer, daughter, sister, friend

seeks reflection, determination, small bits of courage,

acceptance of life (and years) past,

willingness for the future,

relaxed expectations, self-confidence,

good intention, creation, growth of spirit, fun,

understanding, love,

peace,

and happiness.

Keep It Real Tuesday

You know what's real about life? Its unpredictability. The ins and outs, the surprises. The way we expect or want one thing and end up with its opposite.

But you know what else? Even in its unpredictability, life (and all its parts) means something significant.

These day-to-day things we go through, the good and bad, the comfortable and unsettling, it all works together to create a larger plan. We can't know it, that plan, but we have to trust it. We have to believe in it. To do anything else would be unproductive. To do anything else would give disappointment too much power.

So we hold our heads up and we live life.

And that's all I've got today.

Writing on Thursday

Three Lives
(a repost: originally appeared in November of 2009)


It occurred to me with certain clarity this week that I live three lives. Three. All from this one body.

They're separate, but pieces of them overlap. Each is carried out by real parts of me.

Life in the Flesh

I am living, breathing, my body holds a spirit. I primp and present my physical self, nourish my person without regularly exercising it, drive an automatic SUV, read aloud, sing aloud, stir breakfast--and sometimes dinner--with my favorite wooden spatula, lose myself to folding laundry, loathe putting it away. I wince when the phone rings, but love to give hugs. My mind wanders while I'm in church, and I mutter ridiculous things to the family dog. I find solace and happiness and frustation and doubt in the act of writing, can't get enough kisses from my daughters, am never sated. This is real life. The one I've lived for thirty-[two] years, with emotion and experience and depth. Real time. Tangible existence.

Virtual Life

I am a presence. With pictures, sometimes, but most often with words. My thoughts and essence are on display, whether through blog posts or online statuses. I give of myself through a filter, the filter of this internet that is not my physical location, just designed representation. It's me, too, but with time delay. With edits. Smooth, composed. Confident. I banter, I share, I feel, I learn and love. Virtually.

Life through Fiction

I am what my mind creates. My characters are extensions of me, their stories fill me. New experiences, lived vicariously. Papered emotions, felt as if real and raw. People as real to me as the Postmaster, my daughters' teachers, the person driving behind me, my best friend's mother, because they are real, in some other place, even if only by manuscript or in Word document. Entirely made up, but true, honest at the same time. I exist so that they can exist. And because they exist.

These three Jannas, they feel individual, so different, so distinct. But I reconcile one with the others. Aren't I all of them? My three lives. Defining one existence.

What about yours?

Inspire Me Sunday

Truth and a Right Choice
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"There comes a time in the spiritual journey when you start making choices from a very different place. And if a choice lines up so that it supports truth, health, happiness, wisdom and love, it’s the right choice."

 - Angeles Arrien, anthropologist

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This quote, so well said, could have been whispered from my own heart.

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Can you relate to its sentiment?

Writing on Thursday

It's Not Always Easy
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Maybe it's not something I should admit to, this fact that I can pull entirely away from my writing.
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It's just that life happens so heavily at times, and how can I devote myself to fiction when reality is so big and in-my-face significant?
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It happened that way last year when my dad was diagnosed with stage IV bone cancer. When we were first reeling from the prognosis, and watching through his (short-lived) treatments, and then struggling through the two-month decline before he passed away. Two months, that was all we had him after the doctor told us that day, because he'd already had multiple sclerosis for twenty years, and his body didn't have a chance.

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photo found at hubpages

Writing did not come easy for me then.

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Sometimes we hear of those writers who are driven by problems and hurt and they throw themselves into their work, making it richer and deeper and better. I only wish I were that kind of writer.

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My writing has been suffering again of late, because more big life is happening. In the way life happens, I suppose.

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...I'll be telling you about it soon, in an upcoming Keep It Real Tuesday post...

News!

I'm nervous. My jitters are quaking. My quivers are jostling. I hope you like it! is what I'm thinking.

There's always a little worry when striking out with something new...
And there's always a little excitement when it comes to just shouting it out...

I have a new blog!*

But the most exciting part is, it's a dual-effort, co-authored by my best friend, Marie. I've been dying for you guys to meet her, and now is the time. You're going to love her.

This is about us. About the stages we're at in life, about where we want to be and how we're going to get there. It's how we're using introspection and self-discovery and adventure to our advantage, for growth and better, more fulfilling lives.

Marie and I, we are Pursuing Life.

Please check it out. Take a look around, follow us, spread the word, too, because we will have much to share. I think you'll enjoy it.

Can't wait to see you there!

*Something She Wrote won't be going anywhere.

Thirty-Two

Today is my birthday, and I am thirty-two.

The number does not sink in for me, because how is this turning of numbers possible? Three decades and two years, a good husband, two kids (really? my very own?), a house with a dog (and a Madagascar hissing cockroach, which I have not told you about before), the best friends and connections a girl could ask for, a whole amazing childhood plus some adulthood tacked on, gobs of mistakes, and accomplishments. This worth of life just doesn't seem plausible.

But I like getting older. I like what time has done to my face, making it more womanly, I see. And I like that time helps me learn myself, to understand my personality and my purpose and come to accept it all. I feel the bud of that little bit of wisdom that comes with life under your belt.

I also don't like getting older. Not so much because of the wrinkles, the easier aches and the greater intention with things like exercise (those things I just sort of allow to enter the door with me), but because everything and everyone around me gets older, too. It's hard to see things dilapidate; the things and places that have defined me. It is hard, too, to see loved ones, well, dilapidate.

It's my first birthday since my dad died. Today he won't call first chance he gets to say, "Happy Birthday, JD." It is better this way. He is safe and he is comfortable now, and I don't wish his pain back just so he could call me. But I miss him, it's been five and a half months, and the missing grows stronger. It has me so sensitive, especially today.

I didn't plan on its sadness when I sat with this post in mind. Really, I was going to write it hopeful and with pride. It is a day to be happy, a day to celebrate, this I know, because I am blessed and my life is filled with love and meaning. But the sad gets me, too. I try not to let it overwhelm me, but sometimes I've no say in that matter. Such is (my) life, this is one of those things I've learned.

And so now how do I end this big long thing? I have no jokes, no fancy quotes today. A summary of my feelings would be lame. Sometimes I think my laying everything out for you to read just so must be exhausting.

How about I smile at you. That's all.

Thanks for listening. And thanks for being a part of this life of mine.

Thirty-two.

RQ #12

What life lesson(s) have you recently learned?





Photo from flickr. All rights reserved by William Follett.

Little Life Moments

I woke them Friday morning, my two little girls, with mommy kisses and soft calls. It was the last day of their first full week of school.

I fed them, helped them with their clothes, reminded them (once and then again) to brush their teeth, their hair, clean their faces and gather their things.

Those were all little bits of our life that morning; they're becoming the usual of our routine. But one thing stuck out, a favorite moment, one I doubt I'll see often.

We stood outside, waiting for the yellow bus to break free from the tree line. We heard it first, and I said, "Here it comes." We traded hugs; my husband and I wished them a good day, and they started down our driveway to meet their ride.

They weren't but ten feet from us when my littlest, no announcement, no request, floated her tiny hand toward her sister. Biggest may have seen that hand, peripherally, or maybe she just sensed it, for she grabbed it with her own. They held fast to the bus.

And my husband and I, already sappy with sweet love for our daughters, watched with our hearts hopping down the drive behind them.

It was just a little life moment.

Tell me about one of yours.

**Thank you for the encouragement after Friday's post. I'm learning I overthink the whole process, instead of trusting it, and that I need to stop making this harder on myself. I appreciate you all!

My Philosophy Evolves

The more I study, observe, reflect, pray, live, the surer I am that there's this greater understanding of people.
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It transcends organized religion, judgment, morals, values, opinions, beliefs, lifestyles, choices, circumstance. It has more to do with broad spirituality, a certain awareness. A kind heart, and open mind.
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It's an understanding that will beget acceptance and love, regardless of our differences, yours and mine.
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I'm not saying I've attained this understanding. Or that I fully grasp it, even. It's bigger than you, bigger than me. But I feel like I've seen glimpses.
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When one I loved was dying, and his hereafter was imminent.
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When I met someone who was different from me, in most outward, conceivable ways, and I enjoyed being with him anyway. Because I saw that there was no right to wrong, no bad to good, no my way to his.
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When I accepted that another woman is no better than me, no worse than me, though we spend our time in such opposite worlds, with opposing morals and pastimes. I will love and celebrate her anyway.
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It comes down to more than I can take in with my own eyes. You know? Because not everything can be explained away in black and white, categorized as yes or no, placed in my treasure box or yours. Who am I to imagine otherwise? To think I'm privileged with belief, or that I have an advantage through my lifestyle?
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When I embrace it, this way of thinking and trust, I feel most right in my heart. With God. In the world.
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What do you think? What's your philosophy?
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picture by p.j. mcadie at flickr.com

Things I Learned in Iowa

We drove to Iowa Saturday, for a family reunion on my husband's side. Here are things I found worth noting, in no note-worthy order.

* Hwy 15 has more than one detour.
* My husband's uncle has a chicken farm, with 3.75 million birds passing through a year.
* Cherry-rhubarb wine exists. (I saw three homemade bottles.)
* My daughters are normal kids, and good girls.
* Water from a hot bottle is not tasty.
* My husband and his brothers are as immature (together) as they were fifteen years ago.
* I love family, even if they're not mine by blood.
* Some people change... some people stay the same.
* A convoy of 20+ military Hummers, several with rocket launchers on top, and a few drivers who look sixteen, is a powerful sight.
* A restaurant will serve you whitefish and insist it's salmon.
* Crowds of people make me nervous, and I fumble with awkwardness. (I've known this, but was reminded once again.)

But my favorite:

* In a small Iowa town lives a boy of about twelve. He overloads a girl's bike--perhaps his sister's--with no outward embarrassment. He owns those wheels; they have become his. He circles the Dairy Queen, his turf, back and forth... with no mind to the bottom crack hanging behind him.

Meet Carolyn

I thought of you, my readers, the other day. Because I met someone, and I knew you’d like her. She was real, and I knew right off I wanted to introduce her.
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Her name is Carolyn. She came into the salon, where my mom and I were getting pedicures. She said she was from out of town, had some time, could she squeeze in for a pedi?

It was a rather curious thing. What was she doing in this small place, on this casual afternoon?
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As we waited—my mom for me, me for my toes, Carolyn for her turn—we began to talk, as idle women do, and the question came up. So what brought you here?
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She was so sweet, so unassuming about it, but honest and real about it, too.
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“I’ve brought my little girl,” she said.
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A little girl, we learned, who lost her mom nine years ago. Whose dad didn’t want (or even claim) her. A little girl—in her teens now—Carolyn took in, making her family, and who'd wanted a summer trip to her hometown, to see her childhood friends.
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So they’d traveled from one midwest state to another, for the weekend. And while the little girl had time with her friends, Carolyn had time to herself.

First on the list? A pedicure.
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...A woman worth meeting, don't you think?
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**I asked Carolyn if I could take her picture, because I was so taken with her, and her story. Could I write about her, too? She was so kind to humor me. Thank you, Carolyn. Best to you and your family.

Remembering

Every day I remember, sometimes half-a-dozen times, sometimes more, and I say, "I love you, Dad."
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I hope I never forget.

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Tell me about who you don't want to forget.

Life

I've figured it out, why I write.

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I haven't been writing in the days since my dad died. Or in the days, weeks, before that even, because he was sick and I couldn't pull myself from knowing it would be quick. I had emotion weighing down each moment, and had those things, life-or-death kinds of things, to tend to. You know?

I spent a lot of time with my parents and sister; time helping, time loving. And I was okay putting my writing aside for a while. This blog took on a sort of lesser quality. From what I thought was my standard, anyway. And my fiction was tucked away, saved, ready for later. Whenever.

But then my everyday real-and-in-person life flagged, too.

I started suspecting the cause was more than losing my father. Because hard as that has been, and continues to be, would it overlap into everything else, the minutiae of daily life as a wife, mother, homemaker? Force my patience and determination to wear, not just thin but through? I've been apathetic. I've been moody. Horrible.

I told my husband something is wrong. That everything--people, my responsibilities, all of it--overwhelms me.

Then last night I had one of those half-lucid brainstorms. The first scene of A Gradual Goodbye, the novel I'm rewriting, floated around in my dreams, delivering me back to the story. The creative coals kindled.

When I woke this morning I headed straight for the computer. Pulled the book up. Worked for a couple hours, felt it for the first time in a long while. Inner peace. And it clicked. The piece I hadn't been able to fit, let alone identify, slid right in its place. I don't know why I didn't realize it before.

It's the writing. Such a defining outlet for me. That creativity, huge. It balances my world, and my mental health.

It makes me happy. That's why I write.

You Won't Regret It

Beginning today, treat everyone you meet as if they were going to be dead by midnight. Extend to them all the care, kindness, and understanding you can muster, and do it with no thought of any reward. Your life will never be the same again.

Og Mandino

Harried

H Have you had moments in life when

A all the things you do, all you are

R responsible for, seems to grow beyond your

R realm of control?

I It's as if what you touch becomes

E entirely overwhelmed. Exaggerated. Too much.

D Dangitthat'showIfeel.