Tea Party Anyone? ("Anne of Green Gables" Style.)

"Where there's tea, there's hope."

Arthur W. Pinero

“It’s quite possible that after all this time, I think I understand it!” 

This was the boost of confidence I was beginning to feel and think with my new found discovery.  I convinced myself after my last blog writing; “That’s it!! All I have to do is be authentic, follow my heart, live my dream, yada, yada, yada and I will finally get my life together.” 

The confidence and euphoria were all short lived, however, when the responses to my post started rolling in.  I began to receive e-mails with reactions such as, “I thought you were writing about me” and “this hit home” or “I experience this too.  Being yourself is very difficult.”

It’s not that I think I’m the only one who finds being authentic and living life your way a challenge, but those who responded to me are people I greatly admire and are an epitome of success and authenticity.  And as if that wasn’t enough, I began to hear and read others’ stories.  At a talk recently, the speaker stated that he was 64 years old and it’s been only in the past 5 years that he’s been living his life the way he wanted.  And then to top that off, I read about a woman who HAD lived her life passionately and authentically for 35 years.  However, because she found it such a trying and difficult way to live (I guess she thinks food, money and health insurance are important), she considered conforming to the 9 – 5 life, but she decided not to.  The New York Times even highlighted a story about people who pursued their dream job, only to discover it’s not all that it’s cracked up to be.  Many of those in the article are re-considering their dream and looking at other options.¹ 

With my confidence and euphoria squelched, I was back at square one.

These stories and replies made me stop and question.  “Why is it difficult for so many of us to find the courage to get over the humps and live our lives the way we want?  Really, what’s so hard about living authentically and doing what we feel so deeply about doing?” 

I know there are a few out there who are already doing it and a few others who find the beaten path satisfying enough.  (My husband’s one of them and in many ways, I admire his happiness.)  However, there’s a lot more people out there like me and I really wanted to know why it’s so tough, “WHY?” 

I began to write in hopes of finding that answer as the subject of my next blog.  I even spent 4 or 5 days writing about it, trying to find a…well…an answer.  But nothing.  Finally I gave up.  “Who am I?” I thought.  “This is an age old question that’s been asked for centuries.  I’m certainly not going to find the answer in a self-absorbed blog post with 1,000 words or less.”  So, I scratched the idea and began to write another blog. 

Three days and two pages later, I finished that blog and sat it on my husband’s desk.  (He’s my proofreader and critic.)  Then off I went to meet a friend at a tea shop.

I’m not much of a tea drinker but I’m an explorer.  Trying and visiting new places excites me and I was up for a cup of tea in a shop off the beaten path.  With perfect timing, Kalee and I arrived at the inconspicuous front door of the Homegrown Herb and Tea Shop.  As we stepped inside, it was like stepping into a warm and comfy outside.  Tree bark and stumps are used perfectly in areas around the walls and ceiling in an aesthetically pleasing way.  There’s a corner in the back of the shop with pillows and books to read at your leisure, an electric fireplace graces the middle of the room and there’s a private room for larger groups.  Herbs line the window sills, sharing their space with a praying mantis or two.  As you get closer to the tea bar, the smells coming from the multiple jars of herbs makes you believe you are in an ancient apothecary. 

 Kalee and I chose a small table for two next to a window.  We look through the menu, a cloth bound 4 page scroll that contains options such as “Sniffle Tea with Sore Throat Kiss”, “The Wake Up Call”, “Jewel’s Focus Finder”, and “Holy Tea.”  Kalee and I agreed that the “Holy Tea” is what we needed so we ordered a pot.  I’m more of a coffee drinker and do not find tea to be very tasty, but I think it’s possible the “Holy Tea” may have converted me.  It was the best steeped, natural, locally grown herbal tea I’ve EVER had.  I even drank it plain….no honey, no cream.  Nothing!    

The two hours of conversation with Kalee went by quickly and it was time to get back to work.  While paying for our soothing hot remedy, we discovered that the woman who served us our tea and ran the cash register was the proprietor.  I asked her some questions and she gladly shared with us her fascinating story.  This tea shop was her dream.  It was such a deep calling for her that she even left her tenured job as a teacher.  There were many who told her it would fail.  However, five years later, she’s still serving tea and telling her story.  I then shared with her, quite unexpectedly, that I was on the cusp of following my own dreams but that I was on shaky ground, uncertain how to proceed due to some challenges.

“You HAVE to read The Alchemist by Paulo Coelho!” she responded before I could say anything else.  She continued.  “The very first thing you need to do when you leave here is read that book.”  Then she briefly explained the premise of the book.

The story is a simple and fictitious tale set in Spain about a 16 year old shepherd boy who has a reoccurring dream (finding treasure in Egypt under the Pyramids.)  He meets up with an old wise man who states that it’s imperative we follow our Legend (dream) and gave the boy a few pointers to help him begin.  The old wise man also told the boy that he should keep an eye open for “omens” (signs) to help guide him as he travels through life.  Inspired, the shepherd boy sells his sheep and leaves for his adventure to find the treasure, meeting challenges and making discoveries along the way.

The next day during a two hour break, I do as the Tea Lady recommends.  I ran to the local library, borrowed the book and headed for the shore.

I chose Bug Light State Park in South Portland as my reading spot.  I park the car, walk over the paved walking path and found the perfect rock to sit upon.  I opened the book and began to read the second page of the introduction written by the author.  I catch my breath when I read, “Whenever we do something that fills us with enthusiasm, we are following our legend.  However we don’t all have the courage to confront our own dream.  WHY?”

As if Paulo was speaking directly to me, he gave me the answers I was searching for.  Paulo stated there are four obstacles that prevent us from living our lives authentically.

1.)     First Obstacle:  “We are told from childhood onward that everything we want to do is impossible.”  We believe this to the point that our dream becomes invisible to us when we become adults.

2.)    Second Obstacle:  If we finally remember/rediscover that dream, then we face the second one:  “Love.  We know what we want to do, but are afraid of hurting those around us by abandoning everything in order to pursue our dream.  We do not realize that those who genuinely wish us well want us to be happy and are prepared to accompany us on that journey.”

3.)    Third Obstacle:  “Fear of defeats we will meet on the path.  We who fight for our dream suffer far more when it doesn’t work out.  We do want it and know that we have staked everything on it and that the path of personal calling is no easier than any other path, except that our whole heart is in it.”  Sometimes, it’s much easier to follow a beaten path than to follow our dream.  But if we can get past all the many mistakes and difficulties we make along the way, we experience more euphoria and confidence.  We get to live a life filled with passion.

4.)    Fourth Obstacle:  “The mere possibility of getting what we want fills the soul of the ordinary person with guilt.”  The guilt is a result of thinking we do not deserve it because we see that others have failed at reaching their dreams.  “But if you believe yourself worthy of the thing you fought so hard to get, ….then you understand why you are here.”²

When I completed reading this section of the introduction, I thought it was possible that I may have happened upon my own little omen.  “I must go back to that tea shop and thank the tea lady for recommending this book,” I think to myself.

As I was thinking about the tea lady and her tea shop, I hear a quiet, quavering voice with an English tilt on the walking path behind me, “Would you like tea with that?”

Thinking maybe two people behind me were in conversation, I slowly turned around only to see one tall man, in his 80’s looking down at me with a huge smile.  Still reeling from the “tea  coincidence”, I was further dumbfounded as I stared at his shepherd’s staff.

“Would you like tea with that?” he said again, laughing.  “You seem so peaceful sitting there, I thought perhaps you’d like to have a cup of tea?”

I laughed, we spoke briefly, chatting politely to one another as one tends to do with strangers.  Within seconds, he continues on his walk, using the shepherd’s staff to brace himself.

I turned back around and watched the surf as it slapped the boulders beneath me.  I haven’t read the book yet, but I’m curious now about the subject of omens and the strange ways they appear.  Perhaps that’s the subject of my next blog.

If you live in the Portland, ME area, I highly recommend the Homegrown Herb and Tea Shop located at 195 Congress Street in Portland.

References:

¹The New York Times, SundayStyles Section, “Maybe it’s Time for Plan C”, pages 1 and 10, Sunday, August 14, 2011.

²Coelho, Paulo.  The Alchemist.  p. vi – viii.  1993.  HarperCollins Publishers.

Stop Faking It

“Be brave enough to live life creatively.”

--Alan Alda

            It’s pasted on the wall in my office above my computer.  It’s where I write.  I thought it would help.  It’s obvious that writing for this blog is still a challenge for me since my last post was three months ago (regarding Lucy. She must be exasperated with me by now.)  As a result, I have been using the above Alan Alda quote as my mantra for the past month.

I’ve tried to “be brave” and do everything I could to help with my creative output but it seemed that nothing I tried worked.  I’ve tried getting up an hour earlier than the usual 5:00 a.m. writing thinking more time is what I needed.  The only thing that did for me was make me exhausted and irritable.  I tried changing how I wrote (from non-fiction to fiction.)  That was a disaster.  I tried changing my usual morning routine to evening in hopes that getting out of a rut would produce an outburst of creative energy.  That didn’t work either.  I tried writing at the beach, in a coffee house, at the local tea shop.  Nothing.  Nada.  I was about to give up and throw in the towel on blog writing.  But then a party and a few life moments happened.

Recently, I was faced with a dilemma and a decision that had nothing to do with writing or any creative endeavor…..or so I thought.  There was a decision I needed to make.  I had to choose between something I really wanted and needed to do for myself and something else that had nothing to do with me but was important to the life of someone else.  I fretted over this situation for days.  I feared of making a wrong decision and possibly hurting someone’s feelings.  One evening at a party a day before the dreaded decision, I was sharing my uncertainties with a friend.  She listed all the reasons why it was okay for me to choose the way I was leaning (for myself) and then asked, “Why is this decision so difficult for you?”

I surprised myself when I quickly answered, “Because I’m too well behaved.”  She laughed at this response, but I wasn’t joking.  It’s true for the most part.  With the exception of a few rare occasions, I do my best to be a good girl doing all the “right” things and making all the “right” decisions.  I want to please everyone.  I don’t want to make waves or mistakes and I’m determined to do and say all the “right” things.  Yes, I’m definitely too well-behaved.

Just before this conversation, I had watched a video by fellow blogger, Neil Pasricha, author of 1,000awesomethings.com and a “best blogger” winner of the year.  He had stated there are three A’s to an awesome life.  The first “A” is attitude.  I must admit, sometimes I have such a Pollyanna positive attitude, I make some people sick.  So, without a doubt, I’ve got attitude down.  The second “A” is awareness.  I might have some misgivings in this area, but I’m told with enough frequency that I am an aware person so I feel confident in this area as well.  Pasricha’s third “A” to an awesome life, however, escapes me.  That word is authenticity.  I’m so far from living my life authentically that I almost had to look that one up in the dictionary.

So…back to the party.  I left late in the evening as a thunderstorm was rolling in.  About 5 miles down the road, the rain, lightning and thunder were there to greet me as I made a disconcerting discovery about myself and my creative writing.  “I fake it” is the thought that rang louder in my head than the small clap of thunder happening at the same time.

It took me a while to come to terms with the truth of that thought but I now know that in my attempt to say or do all the “right” things, I can’t write.  In my attempt to please others or be anything other than I am I block all and any creativity (writing and otherwise.)  If I really want to live my dream as a creative writer, I have to be brave and stop faking it.    

As if I needed confirmation on this discovery, last night I attended a burlesque/music show.  One of the acts included three talented musicians.  Two beautiful women and one very attractive cross dresser.  The cross dresser was wearing a purple dress, black fish net hose with red ankle high boots.  I was in awe of *her willingness to dare, to be brave.  *His authenticity and fun creative flair captivated me.  As I enjoyed the last song, I noticed an old 1940’s suitcase that was being used as a xylophone stand.  On the suitcase were the words, “Stop Faking It.”

Leaving, I walked into the dark and welcoming evening, determined to be just as brave as the purple dress and red ankle boots wearing wo/man.

*The change in pronoun was intentional….because, of course, I do not want to offend.

Reference:  Pasricha, Neil.  The Three A’s of Awesome.

     http://www.ted.com/talks/neil_pasricha_the_3_a_s_of_awesome.html

True Colors

“It takes courage to push yourself to places you have never been before…to test your limits…to break through barriers.  And the day came when the risk it took to stay tight inside the bud was more painful than the risk it took to blossom.”

--Anais Nin

As is the usual routine with my monthly writing group, we begin our time together by first doing a check in.  This gives everyone an opportunity to share what they are doing and where they are in life, creatively speaking.  After the fourth person finishes speaking, it is my turn to share.  “Something very interesting is happening.”  I began.  “For the past 25 years, I’ve written every morning almost effortlessly.  Words and sentences easily flowed out of my hand and onto the paper with ease.  It wasn’t necessarily publishable material, but there was not a want for words.  Then, I start a blog and all of the sudden, it all stops.” 

“I stop” one member of the group corrects me without apology.  I’m flabbergasted.  Not at what she said but that her words were truth and it hits like a ton of bricks.  Even in my private morning journal writings.  I’ve stopped.  I have no clue what is happening and feel lost without the every morning flow of words. 

Once the initial check in is finished, we begin to write non-stop for an hour.  There are no boundaries, no rules.  We have an hour to write whatever and however we wish.  There’s 15 minutes left and I’m at a standstill.  Sally, the host, brings out some colored pencils to share if we need a little boost.  I grab a purple one and instantly write, “True colors.”  Suddenly, I begin to write fiction.  In over 25 years of writing, fiction played no role.  In 15 minutes I wrote about a girl lost in the dark forest who eventually finds her way out.  Her name is Lucy and she begins to discover her true colors.

Lucy has a mind of her own and has chosen to follow me home and into my morning journal writings.  Fiction becomes new turf for a few weeks.  It’s a territory I’m not familiar with and I suck at it but it’s a lot of fun letting Lucy have her way with me.  She leads me on adventures that I wouldn’t take otherwise.  But more importantly, I’m back to writing once again.  I really love Lucy for that and am glad this character decided to join me.  I just wish she’d help me with writing my blog.

Well, as only life would have it…..the most interesting adventure happened just the other day.  In an attempt to avoid homework for my Chemistry class, my mind wanders and I decide to look up the meaning of the name Lucy.  So, instead of studying about iconic bonds and molecular nuclei, I decide to study about names.  I Google “Lucy, meaning, name” and the first suggested website that comes up is thinkbabynames.com.  It’s there that I discover that Lucy means “light.”  I search further and meander into other websites.  I was intrigued to discover that there once lived a woman by the name of Saint Lucy between the years of 283- 304.

As a former Religious Study/Philosophy major, the study of religion in any form captivates me more than almost anything else.  So, needless to say, I didn’t finish my chemistry assignment that evening but instead, studied about Saint Lucy for over an hour.  But before I go on about what I learned, let me digress.  Until I was about the age of 13 or 14, I was a small town Catholic girl who despised being Catholic.  To be honest with you, I don’t even know why the aversion to Catholicism was so intense back then.  It did concern me that I was baptized Catholic as an infant without having a say in the process, so perhaps my aversion was really rebellion.  I did, however, enjoy listening to the Nuns as they lead us on journeys with the Saints, especially the Patron Saints.  If you are Catholic or if you grew up Catholic, you know that there is a Patron Saint of almost anything.  There’s a Patron Saint of Prostitutes (St. Nicholas), a Patron Saint of Lost Things (St. Anthony) and a Patron Saint of Nurses (St. Agatha.)  These Saints have your safekeeping in mind and are considered special guardians over certain areas of life experiences.  We can take our concerns to these Saints and, according to the tradition I studied, these Saints will pray to God with you.  For example, if you’ve lost your keys and you’re late for work, call upon St. Anthony for his help.  There’s no question that the Big Guy is busy and if He hears St. Anthony calling on your behalf, it’s possible the B.G. will stop what he’s doing at the moment and listen.  He even may take a break from his concerns with such things as wars and crimes in progress so that YOU can get to work on time.  I’m told He’s a multitasker.

So, getting back to Saint Lucy.  I discovered that her day of celebration is December 13^th and she is the Patron Saint of the blind, throat infections, salesmen and for the people of Syracuse, Italy (where she was born.)  However, this is where the adventure begins for me.  St. Lucy, as it turns out, is also the Patron Saint of Writers.  Growing up Catholic, I knew that Frances de Sales was the Patron Saint of this art, but I didn’t know Saint Lucy was too.  Until now, I didn’t even know there was a Saint Lucy.  Even though I’m no longer Catholic nor do I believe in much of that tradition, I secretly wonder if Saint Lucy will put in a good word for me. (And that’s assuming there is a God.)

Working with Lucy, the character, has definitely taken me on an adventure and an unexpected one, at that.  Lucy is continuing to reveal and discover her true colors.  It’s through Lucy’s own vulnerabilities that I’m discovering the reason why I caved into and allowed writer’s block once I began my blog.  I had no clue that creating a blog and writing about my personal perceptions, feelings and life observations for the world to read would make me feel exposed…..so vulnerable.  What if my observations are wrong?  What if my friends and family hate me if they discover the real me and all the faults I have?  And most importantly, out of the all the blogs on the internet, why do I believe I have something of significance to say? 

By allowing Lucy into the fiction part of my writing time, I get to witness her journey of becoming authentic, which quite ironically, mimics my own life.  As Lucy faces her own fears and self worth, I notice that more light and brightness is added to her true colors.  Lucy learns a little more quickly than I, but that character’s presence is giving me the courage to be with my own vulnerabilities.  She is giving me the courage to be imperfect and live my life anyway.  Lucy’s “flaws” and “quirks” are what give her character depth.   And since art mimics life, Lucy sheds light on my own flaws and quirks.  With them, my true colors are brighter and my life has more depth.  If my friends and family hate me upon discovering who I really am…..then they most likely weren’t my real friends and family anyway.  And if others find my blog posts insignificant….that’s okay.  As I stated earlier, there are plenty other blogs out there in which the reader can tap into and take this blog off their “favorite” list.

         Every day I thank Lucy for coming into my life and helping me along my path of creativity.  I thank her for this breakthrough.   As for Saint Lucy?  Well, I’ve given up trying to know the unknowable so I have no clue if this Patron Saint of Writers has made any requests from any God/Goddess that may exist.  All I know with certainty is that my writer’s block is gone.  At least, for now.

“Some say the glass is half empty; some say the glass is half full.  I say, “Are you going to drink that?”

--author unknown

            My friend Lori was upset and feeling aggravated.  There was horse hair plaster dust an inch thick all over her house due to the reconstruction in her living room.  To help her feel better about the current situation, I said, “But just think about the beautiful new living room you’re going to have when all of this is behind you.”

            “Whatever, Pollyanna!!” was her frustrated remark and then she proceeded to tell me to “F*%k off.”  (We love each other…really.)  Okay, so my attempt to make things better for her didn’t work out so well. 

            It’s true.  Lori’s right.  For the most part, I’ve channeled that curly golden hair girl who always sees the glass as half full.  Very rarely will you see my inner Pollyanna without her rose-colored glasses.  Playing Pollyanna’s The Glad Game with others can be irritating for some but it sure comes in handy in my life when things begin to get really challenging.  And….I can safely say that my husband and I have bounced through some very intense rough spots in the past five years.  In fact, at times, the past five years have felt like pure hell. 

            I’m certain I’m not the only one who has had a long “learning opportunity” spell.  Recently, I’ve begun to wonder…..is it possible that when they were handing out passports to life on earth, I accidently got into the wrong line and I was supposed to pick up the passport for Saturn instead?  Honestly, one plus one hasn’t equaled two for a while now…..nothing makes much sense.  For every door that has closed, that proverbial open window has been nailed shut.  Lately, when Pollyanna begins to rear her perky little head, my own level of frustration makes me kick her cheery happy-go-lucky butt as far away as possible.  I must have kicked one too many times because she’s not around so much these days.

            I suppose it’s true that whether you see the glass as half empty or half full, you still get to drink whatever is inside.  It’s the same amount, no matter how you view it.  However, life loses its sweet taste for me if I begin to lose sight of the goodness that does exist……especially during the darker moments.  Recently, the taste has become increasingly bitter.  I can’t say I’m fond of the flavor.

            So, in an attempt to sweeten things up a bit, I’ve recently forced my husband to play The Glad Game with me (although, I didn’t call it that during the “enforcement”, so that may be the reason why he’s on board.)  Every morning for the past 2 weeks while drinking coffee and before we begin our day, we think of things that we are happy about.  Some days, we’re happy that it didn’t snow (again!) or we’re happy that we get to drink warm coffee.  Laugh or roll your eyes if you wish, but nothing else has worked the past five years to turn things around.  And that’s the whole point, to turn our experience around.

            So?  Have things turned around?  Well, we’re not living in ocean front property with my writing studio facing the sea, I don’t own a BMW and I’m not visiting my favorite spot in Italy every summer.  (Oh, alright!  I’ve never been to Italy.  YET.  But I’m certain I’ll have a favorite spot when I get there.)  So no, on an external level, things haven’t changed much.  But on a subtle internal level, something drastic is happening.  I now sleep through the night because I don’t wake up with panic attacks at 2:00 a.m.  Somehow, the Glad Game has stopped me from worrying about the things I can’t control.  I laugh more.  I dream more pleasant dreams.  I have more energy.  The sweetness is returning.

            They say there are reasons that things happen as they do and that there is a learning opportunity in every challenge.  I’m not going to lie and say I understand this completely or even that I agree with it.  I am realizing, however, that it’s easy to be grateful when your plate is full……and, ironically, that’s when we seem to be less grateful.  We always seem to demand more and are never happy.  I’m discovering that there’s power in gratitude when there’s only a morsel on your plate.  There’s a feeling of courage when you can be happy even if the bank account states you may not be able to pay rent next month.  Scarcity has taught me what’s important and what doesn’t matter.  I took so much for granted when life was “easier” and I had so much more than I do now…..and yet, I was still trying to “find” happiness.  I do have my days when I see Ol’ Polly bouncing my way and it takes some effort to not smack her, but for the most part, I’m really beginning to appreciate the “real” stuff.  Things like a comfortable home, healthy food, and the people I love.  The rest?  It’s just fluff….a gift you get to have for the moment. Things come and things go but happiness can be a constant.  In fact, it is the only constant we get to have if we want it.  When this “learning opportunity” is behind me and I’ve learned my lesson completely, you can bet I will be taking the happiness I’m discovering now with me for the long haul.  You can also bet that the “fluff” I’m sure to gain back (and loose again) will not determine my happiness.  

            So….on that note, I’ll sign off.  There’s a half full glass of wine I’ve started and it’s calling my name.

The Bridge

“In the long run, we shape our lives, and we shape ourselves.  The process never ends until we die.  And the choices we make are ultimately our own responsibility.”

Eleanor Roosevelt

“The lucky bastard.”  That three word sentence caught my attention.  I stopped washing the dishes and walked into the living room.  I wanted to know what this man on television was talking about.  It turns out, the man being interviewed had medically died for at least 15 minutes and he was discussing his supposed near death experience being “on the other side.”  He claims that it was such a beautifully pleasant and peaceful encounter that he’s still a bit disappointed he had to come back to his life on earth.  Now, whenever he discovers that someone he knows has passed on, his initial response is, “the lucky bastard.”

Well, I haven’t had any near death experiences lately and since I’m not one to claim to know the mysteries of life and death, I’ll take this man’s experience and place it on my stack of hope that life does exist after life.

But first things first.  I wish to concentrate on this life for now.  You see, I’ve been doing a lot of thinking lately, and usually that isn’t a good thing.  But I think “turning point” reflections happen more often when one faces certain experiences or changes.  As for me, I’m in the middle of life…..on that bridge between my youth and my elder years.  As a result, I’ve begun to think about my own mortality as midlife has made me understand more clearly the concept that my time here is limited.  And there’s nothing like a deadline (excuse the pun) that forces you to rethink how you’ve been traveling in this crazy world. 

I don’t have many regrets with my life thus far but if I must confess, I have placed a little too much effort in doing the “right” things.  I’m discovering, however, that the “right” things I’ve chosen to do were not right for me at all.  And to be honest with you, I have failed miserably trying to do the “right” things and making the “right” choices.  However, finding myself on the bridge of time has suddenly given me a bit more confidence to boldly walk forward, living life my way, instead of the “right” way.  This does require some changes in both approach and thought.  There are few tactics I’ve decided to try as I walk towards my elder years.

First, I’ve decided to say “Yes!” more often to those things that I really wish to do.  In the past, I would think my ideas seemed too crazy and a little unsafe for me to try and I would either disregard them or put them on my “to do later when I have more time, more money” list.  But no more.  If I really want to do something or have something in my life, I will find a way to make it happen.

Second, once I say “Yes”, I’m going to follow it through.  Since follow through isn’t my strong suit, I’ve asked for help in this area.  Two friends have agreed to be my “kick ass” sisters (if I don’t follow it through….they’ll kick my ass.)  One of my KA Sisters likes to wear pointy shoes, so I feel somewhat motivated in this area.

And third, I no longer have “that’s ridiculous”, “that’s too expensive”, or “that ain’t going to happen” as a part of my vocabulary.  I will, instead, replace those words with “sounds adventuresome”, “I’ll find a way” or “I’ll give it a try.”

Hopefully, by implementing these three new “tactics” into my life, I will be able to shape my life more favorably in the direction of my dreams and hopes.  And if I fail?  So what.  At least I’m giving it a try. 

There’s freedom in growing older and being aware of limited time. I feel grateful that I get this moment and opportunity to make the changes I see fit.  Not everyone gets to make it to this age, and I feel lucky that I have.  I feel even luckier that I have a chance to redo some things and live my life my way.  As the old saying goes, I truly want to be all used up and exhausted when I’m done. 

Okay…..so now what kind of fun mischief can I get myself into before I become one of those “lucky bastards?”  Hum…..anyone up for an adventure?

The Coffee Bean Phenomenon: A Second Introduction

“I like living.  I have sometimes been wildly, despairingly, acutely miserable, racked with sorrow, but through it all I still know quite certainly that just to be alive is a grand thing.”

Agatha Christie

“So what are you going to write about?” my friend wondered when I told her I had started a blog.  “I’m going to write a public journal” I said rather quickly, checking her facial reactions to see if she’d approve.  “Hum.  Interesting”, was her response and we quickly moved on to another subject.

My friend Amy showed a little more excitement and offered a suggestion.  “Why don’t you journal a year about following your gut instincts.”  She had all kinds of ideas and for a moment, I thought for certain that a journal about following my intuitive instincts would be my blog direction.  After all, her new book entitled, Life Your Way labeled me an expert on the subject.  (My supposed area of “expertise?” will be another blog subject.)  However, as time progressed, I realized I had originally set out to create a blog with the hopes to inspire and support the “Coffee Bean Phenomenon.”

You see, it takes courage to live life fully.  Well…to live life at all on most days.  There may be a few lucky souls out there, but I have yet to meet anyone who has escaped hardships.  Everyone I know has either experienced collapsed dreams, the death of a loved one or has had heavy stone doors shut in their faces and was unable to find that proverbial open window.  It’s in these moments of life, after the initial shock, embarrassment and grief have had their way with us that the Coffee Bean Phenomenon comes in.

The Phenomenon is a playful term I’ve given to an e-mail I received not long ago from my writer friend, Deb.  You may have heard of it.  It’s an analogy about our response to life and how we choose to take action.  The analogy goes something like this:  When things get tough and we are in the moment/day/year of boiling waters, we can either be the carrot and turn soft, the egg and turn hard or we can be the coffee bean.  We all know the soothing aromatic flavor a coffee bean produces when it’s placed in boiling water.  It can’t change the fact that it’s been placed in boiling water but it works with and not against it adversity, changing its surroundings in a positive way.

It’s true.  We don’t always get to make a choice in the challenges life deals us, but we do get to choose how we respond to them.  I hope to provide an escape for those who are at the crossroads of a carrot (turning to mush and giving up) or at the door of an egg (hard, bitter, angry) and jolt them into a room of robust flavors.  Life sucks sometimes but we’re here and we might as well make the best of it.  I’m not advocating that one should never grieve; we’ve been given tear ducts and emotions for a reason.  But when you’re ready to come up for air, I hope that my tousled observations can be the open window you’ve been searching for, giving you the will, the courage, and the power to make rich, sweet and smooth surroundings.   

So what will it be?  Deb stated she’d prefer the Italian Roast experience.  I’ll go for that and throw in a little frothed milk and chocolate.  What flavor will your phenomenon be?

A special thanks to Amy Wood, friend and author of Life Your Way.  Thanks also go to the super awesome baristas at Bard Coffee in Portland, ME.

The Beginning

After thirty years of journal writing, I decided it was time to stop putting my words in beautifully bound books and hiding them in a box in the back of my closet.  Instead, for whatever it’s worth, I’ll stop hiding my words and share my thoughts with you.  Hello and welcome to my blog, Tousled Observations.  And that’s exactly what my journal entries entail, untidy thoughts that meander for a while but always lead me to a place of knowing.  Perhaps this place will be of service to you, perhaps not.  If anything, when you leave here, it is my hope you feel nothing but pleasant feelings and a sense of joy.  Please check my site often and share with me your thoughts as well.