Th'Muse

As I said, life gets crazy.  But only when we allow it to.  What will I allow in my life?  I've often said that I think best when I'm on my feet putting out metaphorical fires.  Perhaps it i s the adrenalin, or just the deadline, other or self-appointed.  At any rate, if there is not a certain moment that 'finished' must be cleanly mentally stamped on a project (finished or not), I tend to move it to the "good" column rather than the "best" one.  One of the good things, is this blog.  I began it believing that I wanted to use my life-coaching tools to help others with pitfalls and problems that I'd already slipped into and found a life-like out of.  I was attempting professionalism, a step-back intimacy and the added burden of editing and reediting content and language.  This left me with a distaste (I'm not an editor) for evening beginning the next idea, because it would take much more time out of my priority box than I had allotted.  So

Time is a fluid thing.  It washes through our cupped palm like water.  No matter how we try to hold on to it, it still escapes us a drop at a time.  Yet. . . it also sticks like pulled taffy, lengthening when we most want it to snap and sticking greedily to precision when we wish it would last. I just read one of my favorite author, Mitch Albom's, "The TimeKeeper".  This very principle was keenly expressed through the vivid tale of Father Time himself.  I doubt I'll ever look at my own hourglass in the same way. I remember when I was a child, I dreampt that I could stop the world for just one night.  What could I do to make a difference?  I was fast asleep, but I remember the dream as if it was a Hollywood Academy Award winner with sets, scenery, costumes and special effects that weren't even in existence in the 60's.  (I'm dating myself aren't I?)  I remember the longing I felt when I realized that I had the power to do anything, change any life,

I would be remiss if I didn't write just a little about the most beautiful holiday seasons.  For some, they are joy-filled, exciting, perfect.  For many others, too many, they are stress-filled, over-taxed and sometimes very lonely. Much of the season is created by our circumstances.  When I was happily married with little ones, it was stress-ful, certainly, but it was full of joy and anticipation and fun.  Then when that family splintered, I was left with the feeling that I had to 'do it all'.  See every Christmas show, participate in every bit of music, over-spend and over-do to make up for the 'brokenness' that was now to be our 'new normal'. Then the next year, I fell into apathy.  Painful, painless apathy.  I just didn't care.  The tree was purchased, but never decorated until Christmas Eve.  The bare minimums were the rule as it was 'his year' for the children.  It was lonely and sad, but there were still moments of joy.  Even then.

So. . . there are reasons that my last post was months ago, but there are no real excuses.  I seem to find the time to do other things that I have 'no time for'.  I think that the reasons, while valid, still are only excuses for a deeper lack of motivation, inspiration perhaps, or priority.  Yes I believe that is it.  I am motivated, and WANT to write, I want to assist others with the tools and ah-ha moments that come so swiftly and often, and yet I don't 'get to it'.  I definitely have constant ideas swirling around, a list of 'posts to write', so that isn't it either, but priority might just be it.  Of late, I've discovered a new sense of transparency.  A sort of sense of willingness to be more open with my flaws and needs and ideas and disquiet.  Here are some of my 'reasons' and understand that they are in no particular order other than what pops into my head first. A flood that left us without a kitchen for five months (still not

Forgive Quickly I will when she does!   I’ll forgive, but I’ll never forget!   Fine, but not until they’ve paid! I often am not sure about why I’m angry exactly.   I have found however, that when I pause and remember this quote I heard years ago, the anger, the bitterness and the fear often melts into a sort of guilty knowledge that I’m only hurting myself more.   It went something like this: It seems to simple, and yet at times it is really difficult to just let go.   To know that my reliving, making excuses and wallowing isn’t   helping at all.   Not even a little.   IN the case of a relationship I want to keep valid or in tack, it is pouring salt into the open wounds.   Someone also said, you can be right, or you can be happy, sometimes you can’t be both.   I sorta like happy better.   So when I choose to quickly forgive, I don’t waste time.   Especially when I know I’ll eventually ‘get over’ it anyway.   Life is so short, and the lon

It Is What It Is Or is it? Life is hard. Making money is hard. Relationships don’t work. It is too easy to quit. It is what it is. I don’t live in a mansion, but I love my home. I’m   not a dance teacher with my own studio, but I love my voice students.  I’m not a size four, but I’m enjoying being a six. It is what it is.  Anything can be made to be worse than it is, or better than it is, just by where you choose to focus. Yes, something may be a certain way, but are there no other choices, Really?   Can one thing be shifted, even a little?   For me, sometimes the phrase is a sigh.   It is my crutch, something I lean on so that I don’t have to look deeper and fix what is broken. Then other times it is a support, a soft place to land when I consider what my choices are, and what they are NOT.   Sometimes just the ‘knowing what you can change, and what you can not’ is a warm blanket allowing me to release responsibility into hands far s