Showing posts with label Houses. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Houses. Show all posts

Tuesday, January 24, 2023

Links, Dogs, Writing, and Houses

My heavens, I thought as I read a post I had written on June 28, 2022; I do not remember writing this. 


It came back to me as I read it, though—I'm not entirely out of touch with reality.


Bless the heart of the blog reader who reminded me of it and thus gave me the link. How they found that post is beyond me, but I am so glad they searched and commented. Thank you.


As I mentioned in the last blog, I've been reading Steven Pressfield's weekly blog, "Writing Wednesdays."


I wanted to talk more about the Wilderness. You know, by The Wilderness, we don't mean the forest or running off to Alaska. It's that place we wander before finding our true calling. Or, there is another possibility: We know our calling but refuse to answer it.


All stories are about the Wilderness. (Good ole Joseph Campbell wrote The Journey of the Hero long before it was made famous by George Lucas in Star Wars. Lucas said that without Campbell—renowned mythology researcher and writer—there would be no Star Wars.)


The Wilderness is really the second step for the hero. After the hero finds his calling, he usually wanders for a time. (Maybe he wanders alone, worried, dejected, depressed, resisting, or procreating.) It could be that wandering has value, for he is composting, gathering data, letting it perk until it is ripe for the taking.


Even Jesus went to the Wilderness and was tempted. As did Buddha, Ulysses, and Bruce Willis in Die Hard, and Jimmy Stewart in It's a Wonderful Life. All stories contain the Wilderness.


We resonate with it. It reminds us that we aren't the only ones who have wandered.


Now advisors remind the wanders to "Find yourself." Do they know what that means? Do we?


And which self are we finding? Pressfield's "Find" is the calling of our soul to express ourselves. The meta-physicians might say it is the soul's calling to find our core beliefs, the ones that run us, and check to see if they still serve us. There are probably a few hundred more possibilities. 


(I wrote a small story once called Where the Tiger Belches, where a young woman sets off in the jungle to find that spot that is her calling. She believes it will be where a tiger belches,) 


I have noticed that the infamous "They" do not discourage people from being doctors, teachers, computer programmers, preachers, researchers, inventors, or other tech people. However, in the field of the arts, it is another story. "You will starve." "Get a real job." 


Aren't you glad some don't listen?


So, get out there and express yourself!


Love from Jo


P.S. Some say that dogs, too, like to have a job. (A calling?) Sweetpea's job is to sit by my feet while I am writing. She pushes me, too, to go to work. When I say, "Let's go to work," she's ready. That means going to the Wayback to my office. 


And then there is Dog Blog By Peaches, which someone commented on. Daughter dear told me that Peaches should write more on her site, as she inspires me to be happy. She's been silent for a time as she wanders around heaven.


Intro to Peaches' Blog: 

"My momma says that everybody and their dog blogs. I wasn't writing a solitary thing, but I'm correcting that right now. When momma got me, she named me Peaches The Pink Party Poodle for Peace. Now I'm Peaches, The Pink Party Poodle for Peace Pontificating. My pontification of the day is to tell you that the purpose of life is to have fun, hee, hee, and chase lizards. I love to chase lizards--never catch them, though, they taste like rotten toes."


P.S.P.S. And I finally got the search engine to our Real Estate Website--it only took a month.


                                                                 Our business card.



   Note, the "menu" is a list at the bottom of the page.


Monday, October 31, 2022

A Sneek Preview of Jo's Newsletter


Here is a view of Jo's Newsletter. I don't expect you to read these small images, they are a preview. The content is printed below, so keep scrolling. 
The original PDF version is easy to read in email, but not so much here. I invite you to read this, see if this newsletter rings your chimes, and then sign up for a Free, email version of the Newsletters to come. I need your email address to know where to send it. I won't spam you, I promise.
Hugs from Jo

The other day somebody asked me if I had a Newsletter. 


I didn't then.


I do now.


Should I write one? Why? And would anyone want to read it?


I'm not a big whoopie-do person, but I have many irons on the fire. And as I am easing into the home stretch of becoming a Real Estate Agent—perhaps there is something of interest regarding Real Estate I could provide. Only if it's funny, entertaining, or worth the effort to read. Real Estate can be so dry. I want it to be fun. 


I love getting a new house. But I hate going through the underwriter's process of getting a loan. They want everything but your firstborn child. Maybe I can make that process easier for people. Like, think how much fun it is to have clean cupboards and to place cherished items in an empty house and make it yours. They say that moving is stressful. I like new houses—well, the actual moving of furniture and stuff is wearing, but like camping in a cold, miserable tent can be taxing; in the morning, though, climbing out of a sleeping bag feels like being born again. And those dew drops on the ground cover, are like pillows full of the Fourth of July.


You longtime blog readers, please forgive me for retelling this story, but new readers don't know it, and here I am talking about houses. 


When we bought our first house in Riverside, California, I, with my little two-year-old daughter, visited the empty house. In the living room, I looked up through clerestory windows, and to my utter surprise and amazement, I saw a peacock looking down at me. 


To double my amazement at seeing a peacock, not long before, I discovered that the peacock was my totem animal. 


He came to me during a guided meditation. In my mind's eye, I walked down a forest path until I came to a group of bushes. "It's okay," I said to whoever was hiding in the brambles, "you can come out. It's safe." I expected a cute little furry animal to hop out, or maybe a deer.


A peacock in all his glory, strutted out.


Later I revisited those bushes and asked the peacock why he stayed hidden in the bushes. "Because," he said, "Here I am, the only peacock."


Whoa. That was telling. I, like the peacock, stayed hidden because I was afraid to strut my stuff. 


But that's not the end of the story.


We bought two different houses in San Diego, so see, I’m acquainted with buying houses, and then, fast forward. We moved to Oregon, and bought another house.


After our two daughters had graduated from college, (Don't all parents time events by their children's age?) We were preparing to build a log home on forested property.


We didn't hoist logs. Somebody else did it with the help of Sweet Marie, the crane, our log home designer, loaned us. And I drew the house plans—no hallways unless you call a sunroom one. One evening, before construction, my husband and I walked the road in front of the property, and what did we see? 


A peacock running with a family of wild turkeys.


Ten years later, we moved to Hawaii—no peacock. Then, we moved back to Oregon and bought a small house outside Eugene. Before moving in, I took my little dog, Sweet Pea, and a box of crystal glasses to place in the empty house. And looking out a bedroom window, I saw a peacock sitting on the fence. 


Can you imagine? I was yelling. “Sweet Pea, come look. It's a peacock! I can't believe it. A peacock!" She ran around, trying to see what had excited me. But, again, I couldn't believe it, a peacock in the sleepy town of Junction City, Oregon. 

(Four years later, he still wanders the neighborhood.)


Regarding the house in Riverside, CA, unbeknown to me at the time, it was up the hill from the City Park where the peacock lived when he wasn't on our roof.)

Maybe I'm a slow learner, and it takes three peacocks for me to get the message. 

Maybe he came to bless the houses.



Back to our Real Estate Agency. My daughter will be the Principal Broker, and I will work under her. (Hee hee, she is responsible to see that everything is accurate.)


We are using a Pink Flamingo as a mascot and calling the Agency Vibrance Real Estate Agency LLC. A vibrant Pink Flamingo is significant for you see so many in people's yards. Don't think plastic, though; think of a beautiful vibrant, exquisite Flamingo symbol of perseverance and strength. 


As a power animal, the Flamingo has qualities of cooperation, beauty, brightness, joy, family, relationships, healing, open-heartedness, equality, alliance, clan/tribe ties, and destiny.


Let's go for balance. Can you stand on one leg as long as a Flamingo can?


While we are using the Flamingo for our Real Estate Agency, I am using a peacock here. My daughter and I have talked about getting a lady peahen for Prince Charming, our neighborhood peacock, for in the evenings, we sometimes hear his plaintive call. 


We don’t see much of Prince Charming in the winter, as he molts and loses his tail (Like now.) I think he’s embarrassed and hides, but come spring he will arrive decked out in all his grandeur.




 Thoughts for future newsletters:


More on our irons in the fire.


  • A few comments on Real Estate.
  • On aging. (Life after what 50, 60, 70?) Ever since I saw a question that popped up in my email on why live to old age. And another, "What do old people do?" I felt like ranting. And I will.
  • I'm here to support a vibrant life.


Feel free to respond to me, and if this rings your chimes, please sign up for future issues. It's Free, it's fun, and only by email. And I will ask Prince Charming to give you a tail high-five.


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