 This photo was taken in May 2019 (who knew how the world would change), and here I am, two years later, two weeks from my June 1st publication date for Where Do You Hang Your Hammock? Finding Peace of Mind While You Write, Publish, and Promote Your Book. That’s what’s sprawled over my desk. My messy manuscript has become a beautiful book! Lately, I’ve been reflecting on the similarities and differences between being a writer and being an author. Both are in-the-moment creative processes that involve deep listening and allowing. They both ask us to say “yes” to ourselves and to our creative dreams.
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 “This could save your life,” my father told me, teaching me how to roll over onto my back in the ocean and effortlessly glide through the water using a simple frog kick with arms to match. “You can’t fight the water. You’ll exhaust yourself. The trick is to relax and let the water support you.”  “Hard times require furious dancing.” --Alice Walker
One thing I love about travel is the sensation that I’m seeing the world with new eyes. This is especially true of international travel. When I’m seeing things I’ve never seen before, the freshness of these images awakens me. When I return home, I see my own life, too, with new eyes.  I often think that the reason we have two ears and one mouth is because we’re designed to listen more than we speak. Sometimes I talk too much, and now and then I interrupt others. Mostly my interruptions stem from unbridled enthusiasm—I am eager to share, but perhaps a little too eager.  A few of my early journals.
Recently, while skimming old journals (see photo below), I came upon this line I wrote in 1986: “One day I’d like to write a book about writing.” At the time, I was a graduate student and screenwriting teaching assistant at USC’s film school.  Last Saturday morning I read poems in bed. I rarely do this. Usually, after checking my phone, I’m up and out, racing into my day of doing. Reading is a gift I give myself in the evening. I sit back, relax, and enjoy myself—my reward for a productive day.  Taken in my back yard. I know I’m not alone when I say that I don’t think I’ve ever been as ready as I am right now to put the past behind me and begin a new year.  November 7, 2020. Studio City, California. Double rainbow. It’s never pleasant to worry before falling asleep, and yet it happens. As our bodies wind down, our minds can speed up.  I planted these Birds of Paradise over a decade ago. They’ve grown a lot, and I love seeing them glow in the late afternoon sun. May we too stand tall and shine!
During a recent meditation, the West Side Story song “Somewhere” sprung to mind, along with these lyrics: There’s a place for us. Somewhere a place for us. Hold my hand and we’re halfway there . . .  Yesterday I had an appointment with an acupuncturist. I’ve been afflicted with chronic UTIs since April, and my physical challenges appear to be stress-related. In the past, while healing from other minor injuries, I’ve found acupuncture both healing and relaxing. The only downside was that I had to travel to the other side of town for treatment. So I was happily surprised to discover a practitioner, Susan, just down the street from my home. We spoke briefly on the phone, then scheduled an appointment.
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“Where the spirit does not work with the hand there is no art.” —Leonardo da Vinci