 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.
2 Comments
 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.
 Nature heals, and morning glories always make me feel hopeful.
Last week I had the honor of speaking to Marlene Cullen’s Writers Forum as we celebrated her new anthology, The Write Spot: Writing as a Path to Healing. I spoke to the intersection of writing and healing, which is my passion, and realized, while reflecting on my talk, that much of what heals in life also heals in writing.  Here I am, years ago, leading with my heart beside the Rio Grande on an unforgettable writing retreat with poet, Sharon Olds. Last week, in one of my online writing circles, a student said that she doesn’t feel like a writer because she doesn’t have a big vocabulary. I knew where she was coming from. As a young writer I thought that because I wasn’t a good speller that meant I couldn’t be a writer. It’s logical to assume that having a solid grasp on the mechanics of writing is necessary for an aspiring writer, but those things can be learned—and corrected by editors.
 I’m excited to share my new book cover with you (scroll to bottom)! It’ll be released June 1, 2021. My book, Where Do You Hang Your Hammock?, debunks the myth that anxiety is the price of admission to a creative life, and is divided into five parts: Dream, Nourish, Write, Publish, and Promote. It shows writers (especially first-time authors) how to use their present-moment circumstances as stepping-stones to a successful and meaningful writing life, navigated from the inside out. My book also encourages writers and authors to rethink their ambitions (which may be fueled by the tyrannical demands of the ego) and trust in their heartfelt purpose and values in the journey to becoming, or continuing on, as authors.  Carole's Aunt Millie Even during this pandemic, the weeks are passing quickly. My last round of classes is wrapping up, and I’m about to begin three new online writing circles. The work this season has been deeply moving, a reflection of our times. I’d like to share many amazing pieces with you and I’m still considering Zoom salons for the future, but haven’t gotten there yet. For now I’d like to share one story that touched my heart, written by Carole Key, a new student.
 Earlier this week in the Angeles National Forest. Over thirty years ago I worked as a sales manager at Jack LaLanne health clubs. My aim was to get to know, support, and enroll everyone who came into my office. I was trained to listen for and dissolve objections—obstacles people raised that kept them from doing what they said they wanted (to exercise and get into shape.)
|
“Where the spirit does not work with the hand there is no art.” —Leonardo da Vinci