Maybe Buddhism

I was told that my chances of getting published are slim to none.

I was urged to have a backup plan.

Everyone is entitled to an opinion.

I don’t have a journalism degree.

The only professional who has ever told me that my writing was any good was my Seventh grade tutor, and really, she was being paid by my parents.

I have not been paid for my writing; have not made five cents in this endeavor.

It’s not about the money, friend.

It’s about passion. It’s about love. It’s about the need to express, so that I don’t go mad.

Mad as in crazy.

I have enough mad as in mad. Oh, you made me mad as in mad. It’s like that button has your name on it. It’s reserved especially for you.

Which makes me wonder.

I can’t control you or what you think or your lack of vision. I can’t make you see what I see.

I can only control how I react when that button gets pushed.

And I don’t like how I felt inside and how the blood under my skin started to boil and my anger at your belittment seethed. It felt like a simultaneous punch to the heart and gut and my writer’s spirit will not allow that kind of repugnancy and so my mouth flew open and the words spit themselves out.

Yes, it’s my protection. No, it isn’t right.

This is a character flaw. It’s why I have to write.

God can’t help me. Therapy can’t change me. My soul needs to understand how your mean cannot affect me.

I googled Buddhism and came across this.

It seems to encompass so many of the things that I need and it very well might be the path that leads to my enlightenment.

Since life is a journey and Rome wasn’t built in a day, this day I’ll focus on a moving image  on constant rotation in my house as a child. Barbra Streisand’s Funny Girl spoke to me then as she does now.

Don’t tell me not to fly, I’ve simply got to. If someone takes a spill it’s me and not you. Who told you your allowed to rain on my parade!

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Human Kindness

My husband and I have been going round and round with the same issues.

It’s caused a major rift that seeps into all things and we often find it hard to be nice to each other.

Marriage.

This morning it started again. Same cycle. Same frustration. Same wish that it could be different.

As I made my coffee I started to hum the Randy Newman song that I’d first heard in the film entitled Beaches way back in 1988. 

“…human kindness is overflowing and I think it’s gonna rain today.”

Minutes later when I got on the computer to start my work, one of the first things I saw was a story about a young American man being caught on video demonstrating an act of kindness to a stranger in a foreign land. Read the article here. It’s beautiful and the video has gone viral.

Just now while blog surfing and waiting for the kids to get out of the bath tub (we’re headed to a Princess Party), I read this.

Human kindness is overflowing.

My subconscious (forgive me 50 Shades readers) and the Universe reminded me of what is important.

Have a great and kind filled weekend.

xoM

Mad, Mood, Cake

I needed to run so badly this morning that had I not gone I would have ended up in the Whole Foods parking lot bingeing on a dozen of their mini cupcakes while crying and blowing my nose on brown paper napkins. Mad can do this to me.

My mad always makes me run faster and so I wore my Garmin to monitor my pace.

My index finger scrolled the iPhone past Britney and Colbie, landing on Eminem. His aggression mixed with my mood made for even faster running and release of negative energies.

Sweating out the mad made room for the glad.

The glad and the happy started to flow as fresh blood was pushed through my heart. It was released through a toothy smile, flying hands and some serious public rear end shaking.

4.73 miles later and I almost felt totally better.

I went to my afternoon meet up with the pre-school moms I love. Sitting on a sunny playground and sharing our lives with honesty and compassion made my hurt feelings dissipate. Shared experiences will do that.

Though the cause of my mad is currently working in his office around the corner from the dining room, unaware that he still must be careful with his words or I might just bite him, my frown has actually been turned upside down.

I still might bite that big meanie if he can’t grab hold of that wicked tongue fighting from inside his mouth, but thus far I have not done any biting of husbands or real cake.

In my estimation that’s a pretty successful day.

Wouldn’t you say?

Cake Cake Cake Cake Cake Cake
Cake with three layers and pink frosting. If this was in the house it wouldn’t have a chance.
Chocolate Volcano Cake
Chocolate Volcano Cake. When I lived In NYC I used to order nachos and choclate volcano cake for dinner from the Mexican Place on East 28th and 3rd .They’d deliver and I’d sit on my bed having food conniptions!
pretty pretty cupcake.
Almost too pretty to eat. Almost.

Work It!

Inspiration struck and I found myself writing all day long.

My husband, not convinced that writing will serve a purpose in his idea of a future (i.e. funds), commented on the placement of my tush in chair every time he passed through the kitchen.

Not to be deterred I foraged on.

I have committed to getting two actual articles written and sent off to publishers by the end of May.

In order for this to happen, dear husband is going to have to take a great big chill pill and muster up all of his patience, because the laundry will get behind again and he might have to iron his own pants for work. The horror, really!

I’ve decided on two topics that the articles will encompass.

The first begun yesterday is regarding yoga and how one comes to their own practice. What does that mean? How did it happen for me? Why are people so afraid to begin and discouraged by what they’ve heard?

Interestingly, my first go at article writing turned out feeling a lot like blog writing and I wonder if maybe I am being lazy? Maybe I’ve stumbled upon my style? Maybe I should stick with it?

My second article, which hasn’t been started but has been tossed around in my brain for years is in regard to family sleeping ergo co-sleeping ergo the family bed. It will be a perspective piece stating the pros and the joys that it’s been for me; my rebuttal to my husbands disbelief that the arrangement is good for a marriage or children’s capability make their own decisions as they grow.

This piece may take longer to write and I’m okay with that.

My cousin Rebecca, herself the talent/writer/producer of Mirror/Mirror on the Live/Well Network suggests interviewing for different perspectives. I will take her advice, especially for this topic. Forget that most of the world co-sleeps, we as Americas are frightened by the sweet and simple act of waking next to our kids.

I am not one to preach, but I despise the judgements about it. It’s dangerous to think that when it comes to parenting it’s your way or the highway. I hope to add perspective for people who haven’t given the idea a chance.

I also like the idea of conducting a survey to add credence to my points, but I’d appreciate views from the other side, as well. There are lessons in the cumulativeness of the experiences; both sides hold value.

If you are interested in sharing your views, for or against, feel free to email me or tweet or call me! I would love to hear from you!

For today, a gloomy looking Sunday, I’m going to take a little break and remove my tush from the chair. I have yoga at 11:00 and then must collect all the goodies needed for a small jaunt to the beach later in the week.

Brian needs a break from the Raleigh monotony and I happily agreed to the trip. There was, however, one condition imperative for him to be graced with my presence by the shore.

The rental must have Internet access.

There is work to be done!

My spot. Tush not in chair.

Hospital Waiting Rooms Are Germy

My husband is hardly ever sick. When he does get a bug, he still manages to go to work (or work from home if he’s really germy). For him to tell me that he wants to go to the hospital means that he’s in bad shape. He can barely straighten up to walk.

I dropped him off at the entrance to the ER and helped him out of the car. I parked and then started to walk around to the passenger side to grab the laptop bag. I realized I parked terribly and went back to the driver’s seat, re-aligned the Sequoia with the door open, felt much better about my placement between the white lines, and finally did grab the computers.

Brian was given a pager, for when the Triage nurse is ready for him.  We wait.

I’m really sorry that hubby is hurt. If we weren’t sitting amongst the germiest people in Raleigh, I might actually be enjoying myself. The girls are with Peach and I’m going to write, surf, and listen to the Christmas music coming through the ceiling speakers.

Let’s pray I don’t get sick 2-5 days from now.

Mele Kalikimaka!