A bohemian antidote to drama and negative vibes

Last week my creative writing students were working from Julia Cameron’s book The Right to Write. After we read her chapter on the “drama” in our lives, we jumped into the initiation activity—finding an antidote to life’s drama that robs us from the freedom to enjoy our creativity.

Cameron suggested we spend thirty minutes composing a list of 100 things we love. Focusing on the positive raises our spirits. When we feel good, our productivity increases.

We had so much fun with the activity that one of my students suggested we transfer the list to our blogs. A list of 100 may be a bit much for our readers to sort through, so I suggested we focus on our Top Ten or Top Twenty.

My students inspired me to share my own list, so here it goes. I encourage you to add your own list to the comments, or maybe share a few comments about common interests we share.

Whatever the case, let’s take a moment to be thankful for the things we love.

MY LIST OF LOVES

Of course, God, family, and friends take top priority as the focus of the true definition of love, so my list includes the things that I love in a sense that they just make me happy. Happy is a good thing.

1. In-depth conversations with my cat, Stevie Ray
2. Going on road trips in my blue Mustang, named Elvis
3. My close relationship with my Takamine guitar
4. My telecaster, a guitar that changed everything
5. Bohemian clothing, jewelry, and home furnishings
6. Fire (candles, fireplaces, bonfires, campfires, performance art with fire and hula hoops)
7. Candles with different scents for different moods
8. Mosaics in rugs, jewelry, furniture, art
9. Celtic music and art
10. Spontaneous adventures to new places
11. People watching
12. Coffee shops
13. Beale Street in Memphis
14. Ghost walks and history tours
15. Watching the sunrise
16. Taking pictures of mushrooms
17. Interpreting dreams
18. The taste of lime
19. Pumpkins (and pumpkin ice cream and pumpkin scones and pumpkin bread and pumpkin candles)
20. Moonlight

I look for signs

I like to talk to Elvis.

He says, “Hey, Pretty Mama,” and I walk on over.

He knows I look for signs, and he is so kind to tell me everything I need to know for my current situation. He even includes my lucky numbers, though I’ve never tried playing them in the lottery or using them to bet on a horse.

I bet you’re probably thinking, “Hey, Elvis has gone on. How can it be that he talks to YOU?”

THIS Elvis, just one of the many forms of Elvi that can be found on Lower Broadway in Nashville, is a robotic half man that sits in a glass box.

He calls out to tourists, who, in turn, give him exactly what he’s looking for–a crisp dollar bill.

He kindly gives them a fortune, printed on yellow paper with the consistency of cardstock that has been run through the wash and then dried.

Anyhoo, Elvis knows all and tells all to those who look for signs.

I have never been to a living, breathing fortune teller, at least not one acting in the capacity of fortune teller. I don’t consult the Farmer’s Almanac. I’m not into tarot, and I can’t read tea leaves–though I do enjoy a lovely cup of tea.

The spirit world is a very dangerous place for those of us who have been forbidden to peek behind the veil.

I also don’t advise asking God a question and then flipping open the Bible to find the answer. I don’t think we can command God to do anything, but we can pray.

God  chooses to do for us in a way he sees fit. That’s why believers walk in faith. A person has to be of great courage to walk in faith because only a strong person can release total control.

I’m working on it.

But I do enjoy looking for signs or at least being ready for them should they appear.

I like seeing a shooting star and then making a wish. That’s the whimsical part of me.

I like analyzing dreams. Sometimes mine have come true! Sometimes I have dreamed things about other people’s lives. I don’t intentionally try to do that. It just happens. I guess God chooses to reveal what he needs me to know. I don’t always understand, but maybe someday I will.

Sometimes what I dream is simply Teresa trying to talk to Teresa in a way she can understand. (Sorry about the third person, but that’s the only way I can think to say it.) I take in the info. My brain swirls it around, and then it sends it back to me in a dream. As I analyze it, I figure out what I’m hiding from myself.

Last night I had a nightmare about a hospital going up in flames. I certainly hope that one doesn’t come true.

A week ago I dreamed that students were now in charge of teachers’ health care. Instead of going to the doctor, we teachers had to go to the school guidance office. A student would be chosen to diagnose and treat our illnesses. Wait a minute! That sounds an awful lot like what’s happening in education today. Students DO determine our well being. If they don’t pass the tests, we fail.

Again, I digress. Let’s get back to Elvis.

I like looking for meaning in unexpected places and things. I like poetry. I like song lyrics. I like books that are allegorical.

But mostly, I like Elvis.

I have a very small purse. It’s filled with ID cards and discount cards, not much cash, and a whole lot of yellow cards from Elvis. I don’t know why I keep them. I mean, Elvis’s words of wisdom only count for the moment. I don’t think I can pull one from random and apply the advice to today if Elvis gave me the card two years ago. Can I?

Can I recycle a fortune? Let’s see if it works. Here we go: Random Elvis card, drawn from my wallet.

Elvis says, ” Unexpected wealth will arrive. Remember he is richest, who is content with the least, for content is the wealth of nature. Although you may look for riches, realize that wealth consists not in having great possessions, but in having few wants. When riches come, do not forget that man’s true wealth is the good he does in the world. So, when opportunity knocks, grab it. It is easy at any moment to resign the great fortune, to acquire it is difficult and arduous.”

Does this mean that I’m about to get a whole lot of nothing?

What does that mean?

I’ll take a whole lot of nothing, if something refers to trouble, drama, and stress. I’ll take not having many wants. I’ll take being content, happy, and satisfied.

Maybe it means I should grab every opportunity to build my fortune by doing what good I can do.

Then again, this is a “recycled” fortune. Perhaps I should look back and count my blessings, and a person can’t do too much good, now or later.

Maybe, I should head to Nashville and take a trip to the Legends corner. Elvis is waiting for me in a glass box.

He’ll say, “Hey, pretty mama,” and I’ll say, “Oh, you ain’t nothing but a hound dog. I bet you say that to all the girls.”

I’ll slip him a crisp dollar bill, and he’ll give me more words to fill my wallet.

 

 

 

Look closely–or not. Can you see me now?

I’m not really a fan of magic shows. I don’t like magic because magicians never reveal their secrets. I don’t like sleight of hand. I don’t like tricks. I don’t like audience manipulation.

Too much of what goes on in real life is deception that happens right under our noses, especially with the entertainment industry and media outlets. We’re fed what they want us to digest. We see what they want us to see.

Okay, maybeee I’m a major conspiracy theorist. Maybe I believe there is more than what meets the eye. Maybe I believe there are cover-ups. Maybe people will do whatever it takes to maintain power. It’s all about power. Maybe I’m just jaded. Maybe.

It’s not that I don’t like intrigue. I’m a big fan of mysteries. I love a good mystery—as long as the writer leaves us clues and allows us to figure out what’s really happening. What I don’t like is the mystery that leaves me hanging, the one that has no end, no solution, no plausible plot, no purpose.

Those mysteries make my head hurt. There’s nothing so disappointing than to invest trust and time into an author’s work to find out he or she was merely throwing words on the page in some advant garde attempt to experiment with art. Heck, if it’s got no purpose, what am I doing reading it? Time is slipping, slipping, slipping into the future. There’s so little time left, we can’t afford to waste it.

Why am I all of a sudden so enthralled with magic? The answer is easy. I watched the movie Now You See Me, and it piqued my interest.

I almost didn’t watch it. As I said, I’m bored by theatrics. But I like Morgan Freeman, so much so that I traveled to Clarksdale, Mississippi, to visit his blues club Ground Zero. Now there’s a story.

I prefer real magic, like what a person feels when standing on a cliff overlooking the Badlands in South Dakota or when standing on the edge of the real Walden’s Pond–as opposed to the lack of feeling that comes with staring at a photo of Walden’s Pond in a 20-year old text book.

I like the magic of “What if …?”

Not “the manipulation of “I know the facts, Jack, but you aren’t privy to it.”

The movie Now You See Me tells the story a group of mentalists or magicians who metaphorically sell their souls to be pawns, mules, slaves, or whatever you prefer to call them, to a discreet organization that uses many but welcomes few.

These magicians will never be part of the inner workings, so why would they want to be used?

Most of us are already controlled. We’re marks. Why would we willingly surrender what freedom we have  so that we can be closer to the source of deception?

The news is controlled by a few conglomerates. Education is controlled by Pearson. The entertainment industry is controlled by…well, by those of whom we do not speak. And how does this control happen?

By manipulation? Yes. By magick? Yes, at least, I think so. And by our own flaws. What would we give up to be accepted, or to appear that we are accepted?

Envy. We’re controlled by envy. We’re prone to either envying others or wishing others would envy us. We are our own worst enemies.

I say, “Let it go, already.” It’s time to walk away.

With my favorite holiday, St. Patrick’s Day, right around the corner, I’ve been thinking about magic quite a bit. I still get excited when I see rainbows, and I really think there is something wonderful, something magical, at the end.

And there we go again. That word magic.

Maybe, even at my ripe old age, I’m still too childlike and naïve.  I believe in a different type of magic. I can’t give up believing in serendipity. There’s something truly magical about serendipity.

But there’s one thing I’ve learned about serendipity–you can’t make it happen.

I know. I’ve tried.

I’ve set out on a Saturday looking for something wonderful to spontaneously happen, only to go back home empty and disappointed. Serendipity really is an accidental good fortune–which is the opposite of what illusionists create, i.e. the illusion of something wonderful.

Slight of hand. Calculated manipulation. Lies. Plain and simple, just lies.

I despise lies.

I’ve read several reviews about Now You See Me. Many reviewers blast the flaws of the plot–or the lack there of.

What I can’t figure out is if the purpose of the movie is to make a commentary about the obvious “controlled” media industry, or if it is showing us something in front of our faces that we can’t see. If so, what is it?

The main character tells us, “The closer you think you are, the less you’ll actually see.”

Our arrogance makes us think we’re smarter than the average bear, and, thus, the more arrogance we possess, the more prone we are to manipulation.

Then again, sometimes when we want to see something, our minds make it happen. Our minds create closure. In some ways, maybe, we don’t need other people to deceive us. We deceive ourselves.

I would make a horrible mentalist–though I know I’m way too susceptible to hypnosis. That’s why I’ll never do it.

I like the facts on the table. That’s why I would never make it as an illusionist, an allusionist, maybe. You know, being an English teacher, I make all sorts of references to Thoreau, Emerson, Poe, Hawthorne, etc.

What’s wrong with being simple? I’m not a mentalistic, magical, or magickal. But I do like me some serendipity.

What’s the difference between magic/magick and serendipity? Magic(k) requires control, holding on. Serendipity requires submission, letting go. Control verses acceptance. One leads path leads to stress, greed, and power lust. The other path leads to inner peace, tranquility, and joy.

So in keeping with the spirit of St. Patrick’s Day and the luck of the Irish, I wish you all good fortune. May your paths cross with serendipity, and may you never give up in believing in the “what if” at the end of the rainbow.

Roy G. Biv

Just because I haven’t written anything in a few days.

Just because this blog was inspired by a WordPress daily prompt.

I dedicate this blog to Roy G. Biv. May you color the canvas of my life. May every song I write be infused with your hues. May all the stories I dream be seen through your prism.

RED. Not a a fast car. Not a fancy dress. Not a rose. Passion? Yes. For music. A guitar maybe. And drums.

ORANGE. Not a football team. Not a citrus delight. Never yielding. Pumpkin? Yes. Spice. The color of autumn, or fire, or a harvest moon.

YELLOW. Not a ribbon. Not a light. Not a streak. Definitely a bright, sunshiny day.

GREEN. Money goes away. Envy destroys the heart. Inexperience makes mistakes. But green like St. Patrick’s Day brings the luck of the Irish.

BLUE. Not the sky. Not my eyes. Not like jazz–but almost. A NOTE, like the one I’m singing right now, waiting for resolve.

INDIGO. Could be bruised, but it’s not. Could be a dye, but it’s not. Could be a child, but it’s not. It’s a crayon, and I can use it to mark on all my walls.

VIOLET. Don’t look for it among the Africans. It isn’t in true blood, or even with a Royal. 790,000,000?  I don’t know. Hmmm.

CHALLENGE

Now it’s your turn. Follow these directions and take this prompt for a spin:

Write about anything you’d like, but make sure that all seven colors of the rainbow — red, orange, yellow, green, blue, indigo, violet — make an appearance in the post, either through word or image.

 

Things I WON’T do in 2014: my anti-resolution list

Almost all the New Year’s Resolutions I read are lists of things people WILL do in 2014. I don’t like being like everyone else. So here is what I will NOT do.

1. I will NOT be a vindictive person.
2. I will NOT give in to comfort food when I feel sad.
3. I will NOT give up writing.
4. I will NOT change who I am for anybody.
5. I will NOT allow people to take advantage of my naivety.
6. I will NOT stop loving my students.
7. I will NOT coast when it comes to my jobs—100% or nothing.
8. I will NOT be ashamed of my spiritual beliefs.
9. I will NOT place religion above relationship.
10. I will NOT stop dreaming of going to Ireland.
11. I will NOT stop looking for adventure.
12. I will NOT grow weary of doing good.
13. I will NOT make hasty judgments about people’s actions.
14. I will NOT give up on love.

That’s it. Your turn. What will you NOT do in 2014?

Has anyone ever written anything for you?

Funny how one thing leads to another.

I was out doing errands this morning when a Stevie Nicks song came on the radio. I didn’t get a chance to hear all of it, so I marked my mental “to do” list to go home and to look up the song so that I could see if I wanted to learn how to play it.

I never made it to  the song on the radio because the title of another one of her songs caught my eye, one I’d never before heard—“Has Anyone Ever Written Anything for You.”

One of the verses goes like this:

“Has anyone ever given anything to you
In your darkest hours
Did you ever give it back
Well, I have
I have given that to you
If it’s all I ever do
This is your song”

The song isn’t written in what I call a standard format, but it ends with these lines:

“So, if not for me, then
Do it for yourself
If not for me then
Do it for the world”

Of course, I looked up the lyrics and listened to the song. I could barely breathe as the song was so hauntingly beautiful. And, as I always do whenever I hear a song that moves me, I researched it. I can’t verify the facts because I haven’t talked to Stevie herself, but supposedly the liner notes from her TimeSpace explains her inspiration :

Stevie had just finished a gig and then walked into a party at the hotel where she was staying. She saw this guy from across the room and immediately fell in love (something she does not / did not believe possible):

No, it wasn’t Lindsey Buckingham. It was Joe Walsh.

He held out his arms to her, and she walked right into them. Two days later he took her for drive in the mountains of Colorado to a “magical park” where he used to take his little girl. Joe had a special connection with his daughter, a connection that only a parent understands, a connection that can only be experienced, not transformed into words on paper. I suppose Joe felt totally vulnerable and REAL around her because she was so pure, so innocent. Her only complaint in life was that she was too little to reach the water fountain in the park.

This story is sad because this sweet little being he loved so much, the one he could truly connect with, died. I don’t know how. Joe’s heart must have ached for her. In dealing with his grief, he built a fountain for her and all the others too little to reach “it.” And Joe wrote a song for her, titled “Song for Emma.” Here are a few of the words:

“There’s a feeling I get
When I look to the sky
As if someone is watching
Someone hears every word

We are filled with regrets
It was such a short time
But we told Him we loved you
Hoping somehow He heard
We hoped He heard”

As the story goes, Stevie was so moved by what Joe told her on their drive and during the visit to the park that she wrote the song “Has Anyone Ever Written Anything for You” for Joe.

And for this reason, I feel a connection with Joe Walsh and Stevie Nicks. We’re all seeking relief, love, and answers. We look in different places, but we all look. You look. The person in line with you at the grocery story is looking. It doesn’t matter what sins or troubles he or she wears. The person is looking, seeking, needing.

I am a writer of songs. I know that what I write is for myself, not for a commercial market. Writing helps me digest life experiences and gives them meaning in my world.

I am a collector. I don’t collect fine things that cost a lot of money. I collect things that remind me of people and the experiences I’ve encountered.

Today’s journey through song was quite serendipitous for me. Only by chance, or better yet, God’s design, did everything line up at just the right time, just the right moment, so that I would do the research, hear the song, discover the meaning, and remember, the wonderful experience I had talking with Joe Walsh about one of his songs he wrote—inspired by his music hero, Jimi Hendrix.

Isn’t it amazing how we’re all connected in one way or another? The experiences. The songs. The journeys. The inspiration. The meaning our experiences bring to our lives.

There is dire conflict in the media today, such a clash between religion and beliefs and tolerance and intolerance.

God created each one of us and gave us the freedom to choose. We can’t force people to love us, and who would want a relationship with someone forced to love us? Do we expect God to want anything less?

Just because people don’t love us doesn’t mean we don’t love them. Right? You can’t stop love. God still loves people who don’t love Him. So why do we spend all of our time yakking about the sins of somebody else when we’ve got enough troubles of our own? Is God not big enough to handle the situation? He knows why they (we) do what they (we) do.

But what do I know?

God created each one of us, and each one of us has a purpose. We choose our own destiny. But God’s plan is always fulfilled. He orchestrates all lives so beautifully that a grand purpose is accomplished. I can’t explain it. I can’t comprehend it. But I can feel it. And write about it—in a blog , in a book, or in a song.

So thank you, God, that I was able to connect with a couple of human beings through song this morning. We may not think the same way, we may not share the same talent, we may not share the same beliefs, but I know You are pretty proud of them and of me too even when we break Your heart.

Mo liosta buicéad

This is NOT my typical blog, but my friend Mary has done gone and inspired me to think about what I want to do with the rest of my life.

If you haven’t read Mary Todd’s writing, visit her Facebook page and read her notes. She is a local celebrity. She travels the county on foot, inspiring people, expounding wisdom, collecting pennies and other treasures, and plotting world takeovers. She carries a walking stick with a troll attached. The troll’s name is Martha. Martha is trouble. You have to watch out for Martha.

Mary is my twin of another mother. She says she’s the bad one and I’m the good. But in the words of Shawn Spencer, “I’ve heard it both ways.”

Mary recently shared her Bucket List on Facebook, and I decided to compare hers to mine. Then I realized I don’t have one.

I do now. Thanks, Mary. Readers, whoever you may be, feel free to share your thoughts too. I challenge you to make your own list. Every life should have purpose.

MY BUCKET LIST 

1. Go to Ireland for an extended stay.
2. Meet Little Richard and tell him about my book.
3. Have a real conversation with Steven Tyler. (And, no, I DO NOT lust after Steven Tyler nor anyone else for that matter. Sheesh, do I get tired of telling people this.) I happen to think there is a part of Steven Tyler that comprehends a part of the human soul that most people don’t, and I should like to speak with him about this matter. (I understand what this means even if I can’t explain it. God knows.)
4. Write a minimum of five books, not all YA. All five unfinished books are floating in my brain. I have to get them out.
5. See at least one of them published.
6. Open a live music venue.
7. Run an online vintage, boho, gypsy spirit clothing boutique.
8. Organize a local writers’ group.
9. Live healthy inside and out. (I understand what this means even if I can’t explain it. God knows.)
10. Buy a camper and camp. A lot.
11. Play guitar as well as I want to. (At least now I know what I need to do to achieve the goal. I finally “get” it. Don’t ask me to play for you now. Wait a little while. THEN I can play for you.)

As Porky Pig would say, “Ble, ble, ble, that’s all folks!”

Normal is just a setting on the washing machine

My journalism students start their staff meetings with a staff “check up” to see how everybody is doing. The emotion meter runs the spectrum. High. Low. Explosive. You name it. Typically, one wants to punch something, another is holding back tears, somebody is always hungry. The lone freshman enters the room in shock. Her innocence has once again put through the test. One week she witnessed the first kid her age sporting a beard. Another week she saw a kid her age who’s pregnant– not the same kid, by the way. She was dismayed.

We may be an odd bunch, but we’re TRYING to work together as a team. We’re not perfect. We’re small in number and big on learning respect and tolerance–at least that’s the goal. And not one of us is “right.” (You wouldn’t believe some of the stories I’ve heard from them–and they’re heard from me.) We are so DIFFERENT!

One of my guys summed up our cozy little staff by quoting one of his mom’s favorite sayings: Normal is just a setting on the washing machine.

Ya know, wouldn’t that make a cool title for a book?

And so apropros. I’m sure if you’ve been to this blog at all you’re sick of hearing about my writing whoas, but I am on a quest for publication. I have been for years. I was sidetracked after the death of both of my parents, and I haven’t been able to get rolling again, but I will. My published writer friends tell me to be patient. I’m trying.

Maybe I’ll run into Little Richard. I have a character based on him in one of my books. Maybe he’ll read it. Maybe he’ll like it. Maybe he’ll like it a lot. Maybe he’ll introduce me to an editor who can’t wait to publish it. And my chances of that happening? Ummm hmmmm. Again, I’m not what you’d call “right.”

I’m doing a bit of “remodeling” at my home. While moving things around, I discovered a Beth Moore book I bought quite some time ago, but the timing of me finding it was perfect, serendipitous, if you will. It’s all about insecurity.

I snuggled under a blanket and read, read, read, soaking up all of her wisdom. Wow. Beth Moore feels insecure too? Maybe I’m not so different after all. (And, hey, Friend Who Sent Me a Message Last Night Confessing Your Bout with Insecurity, again the timing is right. I will let you read the book. But you aren’t so different. If fact, you’re pretty normal. We all feel like a fish out of water sometimes.)

I think a lot of us feel insecure with our appearance, our social status, our job performance, our relationships, etc. The list goes on and on.

I love, love, love people, but they terrify me. I’ve interviewed a terrorist, a child prodigy, and millionaires and celebrities. No problem. I feel 85% comfortable doing what I do. I get a tad bit nervous before we talk, but once I get caught up in the conversation, I’m relaxed. I figure it’s a gift to be able to hear another person’s story firsthand.

But when I have to interact with people I know, I come unglued, adults particularly. I’m more relaxed around my students–if I think they like me. But if I think they don’t, I walk on eggshells. Bad.

Adults are scary people. That’s why I think I’ll just stay a kid for the rest of my life.

When I’m in charge (i.e. in teacher mode). I’m a great observer. Like the Crocodile Hunter, I can read the signs of the child creatures. I know when they’re slipping into fight or flight mode. I can USUALLY tell if they like me or don’t.

Not so much with adults. Adult beasts have learned the fine art of wearing a façade. They schmooze, butter up, slap on sarcasm, tell inside jokes, manipulate, seduce, etc. Thank goodness, most of my young students have little experience with these techniques. As a result, we get along pretty well. I am not very good at those “techniques,” so in the great card game of adult human interaction, I never know what card to play with the hand I’ve been dealt.

Nevertheless, I’m still intrigued by people. I watched Midnight in Paris for the 20th time last week, and once again I made a new revelation. The lead character Gil steps back in time to mingle with his literary and art heroes–the Fitzgeralds, Gertrude Stein, Hemingway, Picasso. Quite interestingly, the movie depicts all of these greats as having their own vulnerabilities, well protected, but present nevertheless. We ALL have them.

I wish I could sit down with a few of these famous faces and just talk–minus the facades, minus the manipulation, minus the arrogance and haughty presentation. I want to understand the real THEM.

If you could pick TEN people to TALK to, who would they be? Why?

I have my ten. Some people might criticize me for not choosing all the great theologians, but you won’t find many “religious” people on this list. I can predict standard religious answers from people who appear perfect but who  hide their flaws, and the most genuine of saints, in my opinion, people like Mother Teresa or Billy Graham, are crystal clear.

My list includes people who are like muddy water. It’s hard to see through these people. My list includes some spiritual people, some eccentrics, and a few prodigals. People like you. People like me. People with flaws. People with potential. People with epiphanies. People with pain.

People are people. Everybody has a story.

Here we go:

Zelda Fitzgerald — She was such a free spirit, but F. Scott kept her roped in (at least that’s what the biographies say). She spent her the last years of her life in an asylum. Why? What drove her to such anguish?

Edgar Allan Poe — Never has a man ever seen so much misery. I want to know about the last days leading up to his death. Did he really have a relationship with God as I’ve read, or did he abandon the faith?

C.S. Lewis — I’d like to know what he thinks about J.K. Rowling, whom so many Christians deem devil-inspired.

Marilyn Monroe — I want to know whom she really loved, if she really loved, and who was responsible for her death.

Little Richard — It seems everyone in my town has met him but me. He seems to have such a kind heart. I want to see if it’s true. I want to tell him about my book!

Steven Tyler — He is maximum drive creativity wrapped in the appearance of  new-found sober sincerity, hopefully not faux. I want to know why he does what he does and what he really believes.

Benjamin Franklin — I could spend weeks talking to him about his rock star life during the colonial period. How did he invent? And where did he get those ideas? I think I know. Did he really lead a dark life in various secret societies?

Stevie Ray Vaughan — I hope to talk to him in heaven. Otherwise, I have a dozen questions about Jimi Hendrix, his guitar heroes, his guitars, and the helicopter crash.

Elvis Presley — I want to ask him about Memphis and his mama.

Rick Bragg — I’ve heard him speak, read all of his books. Maybe he could give me some real advice.

There she is. Now it’s your turn.

WORDS OF WISDOM
It’s wonderful when you can bring sparkle into people’s lives without fading away from your own true color. Keep the hue in you. ~ Dodinsky

The most exhausting thing in life is being insincere.  ~ Anne Morrow Lindbergh

Never apologize for showing feeling.  When you do so, you apologize for the truth.  ~ Benjamin Disraeli

MUSIC NOTES
You with the sad eyes / Don’t be discouraged / Oh I realize / Its hard to take courage / In a world full of people / You can lose sight of it all / And the darkness inside you / Can make you feel so small / But I see your true colors / Shining through / I see your true colors / And that’s why I love you / So don’t be afraid to let them show / Your true colors / True colors are beautiful, / Like a rainbow

LOOK AND SEE CYBER SERENDIPITEE
www.youtube.com/watch?v=LPn0KFlbqX8v=J7CPgxNSpwk/

FINAL THOUGHTS

A Note to My MiniMe

I find quotes on the Internet all the time. I never take time to write them down, but bits and pieces of them resonate with me, even if I can’t remember the whole thing. Some of them are just too good not to share.

And since I don’t have daughters or nieces, I’ll dedicate this blog to the daughter of my cousin–not just because of the funny cartoon of us she created and shared on Facebook but also because of her passion for music and writing.

I hope I can inspire her to follow her dreams. My 200th blog post is for Emily.

Dear MiniMe,

f there is anything you should latch onto in this life, it is love. I don’t know a whole lot, but here are a few things I do know.

You are beautiful. God created you just the way your are. You don’t have to mold yourself to be anyone else’s dream girl. So get used to who you are before people try to change you to be who they want you to be. Learn to LOVE YOURSELF. You can’t love anyone else before you love yourself.

Love everyone, even the people who hurt you. And there will be people who hurt you. There are many types of love. Give the right type of love to the right person. Love doesn’t mean you have to change who you are. Sometimes the best way to love someone is to say NO. Some day you’ll become a mom. You’ll have to learn that the word NO keeps you and your children safe. (Remember that the next time your parents say NO.)

Your Great Aunt Ann (my mom) told me never, ever to forget that actions speak louder than words. Many people will make promises, but only a few will live up to them. Keep these words close to your heart every time a cute little boy looks your way. If you want to know if he’s nice, notice how he treats you–not what he says to you.

Some day you will like boys. I don’t know if you think they’re yucky or cool right now. But guard your heart and don’t give it to the first one who asks. You know how I mentioned I like quotes? Here’s the last one I found. It actually came to me as one of my Quotes of the Day sent to me in my email:

“Find a guy who calls you beautiful instead of hot, who calls you back when you hang up on him, who will lie under the stars and listen to your heartbeat, or will stay awake just to watch you sleep… wait for the boy who kisses your forehead, who wants to show you off to the world when you are in sweats, who holds your hand in front of his friends, who thinks you’ re just as pretty without makeup on. One who is constantly reminding you of how much he cares and how lucky he is to have YOU… The one who turns to his friends and says, that’s her.”

There is ONE LINE in this quote that really made me take notice. It’s the part about finding the guy who “will stay awake just to watch you sleep.” I know it sounds a little sweet and a little creepy too. But let me tell you why I like this. When your Aunt Ann was so terribly sick, she was very afraid to go to sleep at night. She was afraid to be alone if something happened. My daddy, your Uncle Bud, would stay awake until she fell asleep on the nights she really needed him. He didn’t have to. He wanted to. He loved her that much. He watched her while she slept.

And like she used to tell me, love is not what you say–it’s what you do.

Love God, above all. Love yourself, and love others.

The best way to love others is to be yourself. Be honest. Never lie. Be caring–but don’t let people take advantage of your caring. (Don’t forget. Sometimes the best way to love some people is to tell them NO. Hopefully, they will learn they can’t always get their way by pushing others around.)

And you shouldn’t push others around either. There’s a big word for that–manipulation. It means to trick others. Don’t trick others by pretending to care about them just so you can get them to do something for you. Don’t pretend to care about others to get attention or to make you feel good about yourself.

Love is a verb. (I’m an English teacher. I had to throw that in there.)  Love is what you do,  not what you say.

Your parents and grandparents love you very much. That’s why they do things for you. (Don’t forget to do things for them too.)

Some day you will fall in love, and you will wonder, “Hmm. Does he love me too?” Here is one way to help you know. It comes from another quote I found: “The best possible thing you can get out of a relationship is that you’re with someone who encourages you to be the best version of yourself everyday.“

Did you get that? The person who loves you will always encourage you to be the best YOU you can be.

I love you, My Little MiniMe.

WORDS OF WISDOM
Cherish the friend who tells you a harsh truth, wanting ten times more to tell you a loving lie.  ~ Robert Brault

If you’re alone, I’ll be your shadow.  If you want to cry, I’ll be your shoulder.  If you want a hug, I’ll be your pillow.  If you need to be happy, I’ll be your smile.  But anytime you need a friend, I’ll just be me.  ~ Author Unknown

MUSIC NOTES
When you’re down and troubled / And you need a helping hand / And nothing, nothing is going right / Close your eyes and think of me / And soon I will be there /To brighten up even your darkest night  ~ written by Carole King, performed by James Taylor

LOOK AND SEE CYBER SERENDIPITEE
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tN_HVup9oOg
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WK0z87WrhGo
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xE9NGS8Ynvk
(Okay, a couple of these are really Old School, but they still give me warm fuzzies inside and just make me smile.)

FINAL THOUGHTS

This writer’s early Letter to Santa

Dear Santa,

I know it’s early, but I’ve noticed  the Christmas trees and the Halloween pumpkins are already competing for aisle space at the local Walmart. I’m sure you’ll be swamped this year filling stockings. Heaven forbid you have to stand in line on a Black Friday because your elves didn’t make their quota. The North Pole may melt before you make it back to load the sleigh.

So, I’m getting my list in early. You know I’m a writer, but I’m not asking for books or pens or laptops this year. I want something to elevate my mood, to entertain my Inner Child. It’s awfully hard for the writer to write when the writer has a bad case of the blues or the blahs.

So, if you don’t mind, could you please ask your elves to set aside these five things  just for me. I’ve been really good this year–except for the time I backed into the mail truck and all the times I got in trouble for not turning in my attendance on time. Other than that, I don’t think I’m on your naughty list. So here goes. You can start packing now. (Well, let me rephrase that. Maybe you’d better leave the Daisy Red Rider with Mrs. Santa and stay out of the malls.)

My List

I want PURPOSE. Michael W. Smith told me during one of our interviews that teenagers need a place to “plug in.” Smitty was right. We all need a place to “plug in,” a place to feel as though that’s where we belong. Right now I have a music studio that gives me a sense of purpose, a place to “plug in.” I hope I can keep it, and I hope it gives others a place to plug in as well. There are a lot of stage moms and dads out there who want their children to become stars. I don’t want that, Santa. I can’t make anyone a star. I just want a place where kids, from ages 9 to 99, can find their purpose . I know how it feels to be “disconnected.” I worked with teens in church settings for years. However, when we moved to a larger church, I lost my purpose because I didn’t feel needed. I kind of got bumped out of the jobs I used to do. I want to be needed. I want to have purpose. I want to help other people have purpose too.

I want TRUST. All people need security in their lives. I need security in mine. I feel secure when I know I can trust the people around me. I want truth. Truth builds trust. I like it when people tell me the straight-up truth. I never ask anyone to spare my feelings. Spare the white lies. I trust people who aren’t afraid to tell me I’m doing something wrong. I trust people who aren’t afraid to tell me they are doing something that might upset me.

I want LAUGHTER. Here’s a secret. I think you’ve done a pretty good job in the past with this request. I’ve had a lot of students in my class who have made me laugh. Please don’t stop sending me those people, in my class, on my job, on the streets. Laughter is good medicine. I know a lot of teachers have a tough time with the class clowns, but those students usually end up being my favorites. Please don’t send me the ones whose humor belittles or whose humor is crude. I don’t like sight gags much either, and I don’t even want to talk about flatulence. That kind of humor just stinks. But word play, mild pranks, good natured teasing? I’ll take that.

FYI, some of my former students must have been special delivery gifts from you, dear Santa. They were a hoot–even though they drove me crazy. And yes, I have forgiven all of them for their shenanigans.

(By the way, thank you. Clark and Darrell, I forgive you for sticking my hall pass to the ceiling each day. Nick, I forgive you for leaving campus to “borrow” a backhoe to dig into the methane pockets surrounding our school. Hayley and the Ditzy Chicks, I forgive you for the utter chaos you conjured in Room 32. Tonya and the Couch Crew, I forgive you for delivering a couch to my classroom so that I could counsel you all on your many problems–you certainly had them. Amy, I forgive you for starting a dance party when I stepped out of the room. Juli, I forgive you for catapulting a stuffed groundhog at me as I walked through the door. Curtis, I forgive you and the others for hiding behind the lockers and leaving me a “Gone Fishing” note. Emily and Ashleigh, I forgive you for “rolling” my room and getting me in trouble with the principal on Halloween. You meant no harm.)

Any person who wants to win my heart just has to make me smile. I’m a sucker for the kid who never grows up.

I want DEPTH. God gave me a pretty good brain. It’s creative. I don’t want to dull it through countless hours of watching TV. I want to think, I want to create, I want to discover. So, Santa, please wrap up some opportunities for me to write songs that mean something, to explore new places–Ireland perhaps, to read words that inspire and challenge, and to talk with people who can communicate with me on my level.

I want LOVE. I know, I know, Santa. Love is not in your department. And don’t send me to Cupid, either. True love comes from God. So if you can’t deliver love, I’ll take the next best thing–Starbucks. So, Santa Baby, you can slip a Starbucks gift card under my tree. I’ve been an awfully good girl.

TODAY’S CHALLENGE
One, two, three, ready, set, GO! It’s a proven fact that Santa stops at my blog first. Leave your Letter to Santa in the comments. Who knows? You may get exactly what you want.

WORDS OF WISDOM
If instead of a gem, or even a flower, we should cast the gift of a loving thought into the heart of a friend, that would be giving as the angels give.  ~ George MacDonald

What we are is God’s gift to us.  What we become is our gift to God.  ~  Eleanor Powell

MUSIC NOTES
No more lives torn apart / That wars will never start / And time will heal our hearts / Every man will have a friend / That right will always win / And love will never end / This is my grown up Christmas List  ~  Monica

LOOK AND SEE CYBER SERENDIPITEE
http://http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nCf2PoTuh4Q‎

http://theboot.com/blake-shelton-god-gave-me-you-lyrics/

FINAL THOUGHT