September 28, 2012…
Defined as a diary online, a blog is a frequently updated personal journal, intended for public viewing. Just as in life, it is what you make it. I define mine as purpose…an arena to become that something I have never known.
With faith, courage, and determination, I delve into the world of writing. While I seek publishing in other forums, writing here will allow me to share my passion more readily. Expressing myself through words, in my way, I invite you along the journey.
In this season of change, as the leaves begin their transition, I begin mine.
May your soul stir…
March 16, 2014…
With much forethought, I’ve made the decision to stop posting here. While still in a transition stage, I have choices to mull…and a bit of living to do.
It’s been a ride. I’ve learned a lot, about writing, about people, about myself. I have discovered things and shared them on my journey. But this particular journey has come to what I shall call…a temporary end.
Am I giving up on writing? Absolutely not! But I will do it in private. I’ll work on the other books I’ve started and publish them when they’re ready…when they are the best they can be.
For those of you who’ve followed. I thank you! For those of you who’ve shared in the joy of my book. I thank you! And if you’ve read the book, you know…I believe my writing is an answer to a prayer. It is purpose and it is vision…a dream I’ll never let die.
In the meantime…I have some living to do. I intend to live life well. I hope you do the same. And always…may your soul stir…
Oh the Amazon eBook rankings! The Evolution of a Stir went from placement of 1,000,000 to 100,000 from just ONE sale (a big thanks to Brian and Sharon Jones). Of course I’ve watched the rankings on and off since the release of my book, but this morning a huge reminder of what one person’s small action means to another. I am so grateful for one sale, however you can imagine what snowball effect one more could have. For those that don’t understand, rankings drive sales by boosting a book’s appearance. The more exposure, the more opportunity. Simple for a reader, significant for an author.
And about that book. A reader and fellow blogger’s recent prompt…
“Imagine yourself doing what you love…being unique, being you”. That simple comment, another reminder of what stirs me most and why I wrote about it. (Thank you Traveling Tortuga!)
Whether it’s buying an eBook, or offering a stranger a smile, your seemingly small gesture could impact another in a grand way.
So click here to buy The Evolution of a Stir now…it’s only 99¢! Then go smile at a stranger!
P.S. Brian Jones has a book too! Indian Paintbrush by B. K. Jones is available here.
Hi all, it’s been a while. Just wanted to let you know I’m still alive and kicking. With some new followers, I felt the urge to say a few things. Some of this kicking includes a new job…life insurance field underwriter, which comes with the flexibility I need to turn into positives. There’s been a lot to learn, and some of it taking me out of my comfort zone. Another place I hope it takes me…is on the road. And I hope that road leads to inspiration for writing. It seems I’ve lacked that lately and I miss it. Hope you’ve missed it too. Within the year I hope to make significant life changes, which could certainly stir further creativity. So while I quell the quivers in this proverbial hallway, I hope this finds all of you alive and kicking as well.
A special thanks to Trisha Haddad at The Happy Book Reviewer for a telling and suggestive review on The Evolution of a Stir.
The review – click HERE.
The book – click HERE.
Read the review. Read the book. And know…my story is not over.
He was skittish and detached. A stand in the doorway, a hint of departure, a trivial unaccustomed noise; all invoked violent fits of barking.
As my daughter returned for a temporary stay, he was welcomed as well. Dogs are special creatures, this one no different, with personality and feelings and fears. Not unlike that of humans, his haunts of a past life, characterized his manners.
He was a rescue dog, in every sense of the word. In a congested parking lot, soaked from the rain and soiled from his own feces, he was saved. Blessed with a new life, he still suffered old wounds. He needed time and he needed love.
Eventually he warmed up, coming next to me for closeness. The barking fits, diminished. The wary, reduced.
He’s taught me a lot about myself, about my daughter, and about others. But the thing I’ve learned most…if we all received the offerings of love, patience, and compassion shown this animal; we could heal too.
Have you noticed all the new weeds? I have. They are cropping up, in the yard, in the rock garden, in the flower pots…a coming sign of spring.
Not only a sign of spring, but a sure sign of more work, more maintenance to be done. It seems that weeds fester most in the spring and in the fall, the seasons of change. In preparation for a carefree summer or a dreary winter, they make their appearance.
Our lives require maintenance as well. To prepare us for hibernation…and to prepare us for growth.
He was restless and bored, rapidly getting into mischief. A toothbrush here, a pair of socks there; all toys to a little boy displaced by a tornado.
In a Red Cross shelter, others were restless and bored too, but this boy needed attention…and a diversion. As a volunteer I felt it my obligation to provide just that.
With a well-chosen puzzle, I gathered him for some fun. Sitting on the floor with a coffee table as our headquarters, we undertook the mission. Between mini bouts of frustration, and mini stints of celebration, we completed the challenge.
But that wasn’t enough. He needed more and so did I. A ping-pong paddle and a giant ping-pong ball became our next contest. Working with him ever so patiently, I taught him how to push the ball towards me from different positions. This new game kept our devotion for a long while; with the exception of a moment.
The moment I looked up to see tears lingering in his mother’s eyes. She was sitting quietly by, watching as her son interacted in play. In response to my inquiry, her answer “He’s autistic. He goes to a therapist, but he’s done more in these few minutes then he has in all those months.”
As we walked away, she uttered few words of appreciation. Crying while expressing because he’s different, he is often ignored or ridiculed, and the kindness was priceless.
Later that night, I cried too.
Eye compresses, three to five minutes, twice daily…my ophthalmologist’s instructions for extra relief of severe dry eyes. In desperation, I tried it.
Often when I close my eyes, I can’t close my thinking too. My body lays idle, but my mind races. This time, no different, and amidst all the thinking, I had an unusual thought. How about not thinking. I convinced myself to shut it off, to quiet the room and quiet the mind. No TV, no Facebook, no music, no talking, no planning, no analyzing, no praying, no nothing.
But I couldn’t do it. The nothing turned into something. It turned quietly and simply into…peace.
Feeling a little down and troubled, I revisited The Evolution of a Stir. Since putting it all together and releasing it, I’ve not really read it and taken it in. There’s a lot of wisdom in those words, exactly what I needed today; a reminder of my dreams and desires, and a push to keep going.
As my baby steps take me to the end of this day, I prepare for my slumber. Now I lay me down to sleep…with fortitude, a wish, and a prayer. ~ The Evolution of a Stir
I bid 2013 a spirited farewell. It’s been a series of failures on a path to accomplishments. The lows and the highs bring new light to 2014 and I’m eager to embark even new trails.
As I say prayers for me, I say prayers for you. May your goodbyes bring you a wealth of hellos.
HAPPY NEW YEAR!
Twas a night before Christmas
And I just had to believe,
That Santa was listening,
And would soon bring reprieve.
From the hungry, the lonely,
And the grieving ones too.
To the liars, and cheaters,
That they would find truth.
As we hustle and bustle,
It would help us to know,
That our life is to cherish,
And our pace would soon slow.
With bright lights and candles,
We’ve embellished our homes,
The stairwells, the mantles,
And the roofs high and low.
For the season of magic,
And all things we adorn,
Is celebrating the night
Of when Jesus was born.
MERRY CHRISTMAS Y’ALL!
Excel spreadsheets. That I knew. Word documents. Not so much.
I could use bold, cut, paste, and even highlight, but now I was a writer and it was time to know more. My dream of publishing a book required more knowledge and a massive list of to-dos.
But the things I had begun to list…most of them, foreign. Copyright, trademark, ISBN, bar code, cover design, formatting, marketing. What’s a domain? And how do I get one? What does print ready really mean? What’s the difference between publisher and printer? Library of Congress? Books in Print? Really? REALLY?
So, wide-eyed and curious beget an expedition to learn. If I didn’t know it, I looked it up. Thank goodness for Google, website forums, and help menus! I read and read. I played and maneuvered and practiced; until I felt it was enough. I borrowed my well-read daughter to edit and I contracted a home town book binder to print. With a near nothing budget, I proceeded.
And I did it. And I’m proud.
My first book delivered and my first book is worthy. It may never make it to a brick and mortar bookstore, but it’s worthy. It’s my building block and foundation for more.
How about you? What is that aspiration you’ve yet to conquer? If you’ve read my book “I opened to voices that said yes and rebelled to those that said no” you’ll understand how I got here. And those voices can help you learn to grow too!
Visit the Bookstore to read The Evolution of a Stir!
It’s Small Business Saturday, and while I have a new small business, I began to think of what that really means.
I chose a course which seems to be the road less traveled…publishing my own book. In this day of conglomerates and powerhouses, it was certainly a path of choice. It spoke to my heart…a semblance of foundation…little bricks mortared in strength.
So, not just today, but often, support your local shops, stores, and services.
A writer. Who would’ve believed? I surely never did.
A blog. When thoughts transformed into words, an opening began.
A dream. A series of books…life lessons from my heart, eventually to include other writer’s stories as well.
A book. My first! The beginning of a dream come true.
I proudly and enthusiastically present…
It tells of my journey…a series of revelations that began a process of change. Each a short story, each a life lesson, each prodding me forward.
With a limited number of print books available*, get yours now! One of those life lessons may speak just to you!
Click here for more information and purchase!
As the other moms danced, steps in unison, costumes masking their identities, I watched. An explosion of appreciation engulfed the gym. The excitement permeated on the faces of those in applause. I was one of those applauding but my place should have been among the entertainers. I should have been a breathless participate.
In a pep rally tribute to our football senior sons, a dance routine was choreographed and rehearsed to “Thriller”. Because of a forced move to another city, I was unable to attend practices. Joining in other ways, attempts were made to persuade me to learn on my own, but my confidence was lacking. Horribly afraid of making a mistake or looking silly, I passed.
I avoided the possible failure of my dancing talents, which I am normally apt. I avoided missteps and broken rhythm. I also avoided the thrill of reward.
HAPPY HALLOWEEN…with no regrets!
The beginning of a recent drive, a song resounded from the radio. As I sang along, I absorbed each and every word. And oh how timely. “I can see clearly now the rain is gone”.
As some of you know, I was unemployed for several months. My own doing, a resignation brought on by discontent and the desire for something better. The hope of something better was far higher than my reality. Riding a roller coaster of emotions…from fear, anger, and doubt…to peace, resolve, and drive; I stayed dazed with confusion.
Stepping out of the boat, one of my hopes was that a miraculous door would open. I have certainly knocked on enough to qualify, but the break wasn’t forthcoming.
A recent occurrence, I now have steady income…a job in accounting, but it’s a means not an opportunity. I have come to realize it’s not others that will provide those…it is me. I have my miracle and I had it all along. It’s inside me…the beautiful peace that comes from realizing my own potential.
I’m no longer knocking on doors; I’m going through them.
“It’s gonna be a bright…bright sunshiny day.”
I always got one for them…a Grandparent’s Day card. And I remember Granny telling me just how much it meant.
I wonder what it would mean if they knew how often I think of them now…how time changes perspective. I appreciate how much they did for us. I appreciate the time they gave. And I appreciate the memories left behind.
What a perfect fall day to write it out loud and really remember what it means. From down here to heaven up above…HAPPY GRANDPARENT’S DAY!
They had it narrowed down to two. I was one of them. My references were checked. I had a second interview. This was a fifty/fifty shot, the best chances thus far.
I was ready. Decisions prematurely made…no book, no blog. No attempts in social media to market my writing. I would let go what I’d built over the last year. Ready to ditch it all for steady employment…the eight to five, live for the weekend kind of income. It’s what I know. It’s my comfort zone.
I’m out of my comfort zone now…the furthest I’ve ever been…financially, mentally, spiritually. I claim that in the most positive way and I credit the cathartic process from writing. Never naïve enough to believe my words could truly make a living, but it has been the one thing I ponder. Could a passion that makes your heart pound actually provide that source?
The logical approach…get a job and keep writing, but for some reason I can’t get the two worlds to mesh. Every time, when on the verge of getting a job in my old world, I’m certain to give up writing and the pursuit of publishing. It just feels simpler that way. My head, as well as my heart, just can’t get them to go together.
And every time, with each rejection, for just a minute it knocks me down, then it pushes me…to writing. It pushes me to think about going all in…really pursue it…as if my financial, mental, and spiritual life depends on it.
The fifty/fifty shot didn’t come through. The all too familiar snub…once again a facilitator.
Perhaps that’s exactly what it’s meant to be, because maybe, just maybe…I’m meant to write.
It’s been one year since my epiphany…the epiphany to write, and the spiritual voyage that ensued. It’s been a roller coaster of emotions, most of them high, but it’s been one of healing and transformation. My spirit dark and weary has grown to a place that sees light at the end of a long tunnel. I’m still traveling that tunnel and it’s very narrow at times. Questioning my God, my prayers, my path, and my choices, but I’ve come so far.
Still unclear where that light leads, it’s guiding me through the darkness. From rage, fear, and doubts to confidence, determination, and peace; I continue my journey. I can’t wait to see where anniversary number two has me!