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Saturday, May 22, 2021

A beauty from the trail.

I awakened this morning—a stupid statement. Otherwise, I’d still be sleeping. Oh, I didn’t want to get up, but something, like my bladder, compelled me. And I felt sorry for Blackie, our adult hen who was penned with the young chicks, so I walked on wet grass to release her from the little house. It was a game like keeping one plate spinning while seeing the other begin to fall, for the young chicks wanted out, and Blackie wanted out, and neither wanted to be with the other.

 

Well, now I’m awake. Blackie is out. My feet are cold and wet. Okay, let’s get to work. I’m not fixing breakfast, although I’m starving, so I take Sweetpea and we go out in the truck for coffee and a scone. (She likes the truck better than the car, for I have a blanket over the console, and she can sit beside me.) Not the best breakfast, I know, but desperate times require desperate measures.

 

While drinking my coffee with the heater jacked up to womb temperature, I listened to Marie Forleo interview Seth Godin, the premier blogger who blogs every day. He says he would blog whether anyone reads it or not. When you are forced to have something to say every day, you observe. You leave a trail of your thoughts.

 

You might be thinking, maybe your thoughts stink, but they are your thoughts, your observations, and you showed up.

 

All that was to tell you I showed up here today.

 

Seth also said that to search for our “Calling” is nonsense. This was precisely my point in writing Where Tigers Belch. In it, my young protagonist sets out on the jungle trail to find her destiny, her calling, and she figured where the tiger belches would be her spot.

 

Well, I think it is more like this: You create your calling as you go along. The Universe, the Great Spirit, whatever you want to call the Divine, is there to get with Your Program.

 

Some might take offense at that statement, thinking they should follow “God’s Will.” But consider this, what if “God’s Will” is your will. He, she, it didn’t put us here to be puppets. The Patriarchal God wants obedience. The Mother wants her children to find their own calling. Yep, sometimes you land on Park Place where your opponent has three hotels, and you go bankrupt paying the rent, but it’s only a game (Monopoly). You can play again tomorrow or in a second.

 

I revamped, edited, changed Where Tigers Belch a smidge and will publish it as a novella. Amazon sent a notice of a contest, and I decided to enter, although some say the chances of winning are slim when it isn’t a full-length book. (Where Tigers Belch is between 8,000 and 9,000 words, 49 pages. The requirement for the contest is over 25 pages)

 

I wrote Where Tigers Belch over 12 months, one episode (chapter) a month. I had two subscribers who I love dearly, and knowing they had subscribed forced me to meet my appointed deadline every month. I thank Marilyn and Meredith profusely. I didn’t know where this story was leading, so it was an adventure for me. I’m happy with the outcome and that they didn’t leave me alone stumbling through the jungle. I’m sending a Chirp book (notebook where they can write their own story) to both readers for subscribing to that newsletter at $12.99 for a book that will be for sale on Amazon for $2.99. (If I can ever get my Tiger picture at a resolution high enough for a cover.)

 

I’m playing hot/cold with life. Suppose I have a desire or a thought to produce something. In that case, generally, I do it—not everything, but ideas pertaining to my work. I took two forest walks for YouTube that might embarrass me, but what the heck, it’s me. Justin Perry said it was a good idea. I agreed.

 

How have you been feeling?

 

Have you felt a little off-kilter? I have. wonder how much the past year has worn us down. I’ve heard that mental problems are up, and it’s no wonder with people stressed out, worrying, and fearful. It’s enough to trouble the most stalwart heart.

 

If I could put salve on the hurt, I would. You know, while we’re on the trail creating our life’s work, doing the job we love, finding the relationships we want, we also want to contribute to the good and to offer a helping hand to those who stumble.

 

“Was it you or I who stumbled first? It does not matter. The one of us who finds the strength to get up first must help the other.”

 ― Vera Nazarian 





 

Oh yes, it’s been an exciting week in Junction City. A house across the street burnt to the ground. Scary stuff. It was under construction, a house behind a house, and right over the back fence from our friend’s house directly across the street.

 

Daughter dear was walking her dog at 1:30 in the morning and noticed a glow, thinking someone was burning. By the time she turned around, it had become a full-fledged blazing fire. We ran, waking people. One, an elderly woman, had to be wheeled out in a wheelchair. Her daughter said she hated that house. It had dormer windows that faced directly into their back yard. House gone. 



 

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