"Only God Can Make A Tree"

I've been staring at trees again. At first it was because I was missing their summer fullness – their green, warm-weather foliage blowing softly in spring and summer breezes. I love trees...the different shapes, heights, variety of leaves, those that flower – those that don't.

Recently driving through the local countryside on a wet, gloomy day – and we've had a lot of wet, gloomy days this winter – I realized how much I still enjoyed those same trees without their covering of green.

Without the thousands of individual leaves covering each branch, each tree reveals another side to it's personality. Bare of any covering, we are allowed to view the form and structure of each branch, each limb, each trunk...as they taper off into differing directions towards the sky.

Some trees are massive – those who have weathered decades of changing seasons - their bark showing signs of age their limbs curling in every direction as they continue to mature. Others are young and strong, their trunks straight – the bark still unmarked by time and nature.

I find them extremely moving and emotional. Even in the bleakness of winter each tree reveals an inner view of it's growth, maturity and wisdom to me. I find myself wondering what these trees have witnessed of humanity.... Forests that have come and gone; children playing and growing beneath them; perhaps travelers on foot, stopping for a rest in the shade of their branches. Growing weary of the browns, grays, and muddy colors of the winter, I have found a new way to appreciate their stark and unusual beauty.

Reviewing what I've just written, it seems as though I might be describing people. When stripped of all foliage - whether full and colorful or sparse and dull – we're all pretty much the same underneath. A straight or stooping posture, smooth or furrowed brow, and number of gray hairs permits us a glimpse of the wisdom and experience of another soul.

Like trees our roots grow wider and deeper with time – strengthened during periods of balmy weather, we are empowered to withstand the storms life surely will bring. Each experience, each encounter we make is an opportunity to put down another root.

Call me a “tree-hugger,” but trees make me smile. Even on the gloomiest of days I can look at a tree and witness its beauty, as it reaches toward heaven reminding me of the strength and power that lies within.

I think that I shall never see
A poem lovely as a tree.

A tree whose hungry mouth is prest
Against the earth's sweet flowing breast;

A tree that looks at God all day,
And lifts her leafy arms to pray;

A tree that may in summer wear
A nest of robins in her hair;

Upon whose bosom snow has lain;
Who intimately lives with rain.

Poems are made by fools like me,
But only God can make a tree.

"Trees" - Alfred Joyce Kilmer, 1913

(Pictures property of Pamela Bousquet)

Taking criticism from the right people can lead you out of mediocrity

In the blogosphere you must question why you are blogging if you do not feel a little uncomfortable as your mouse hovers over the publish button.

When you put yourself 'out there' and say what you really think then you have to accept what comes back at you in the comments section.

I think sometimes that's easier said than done.

For example it’s easy to accept nice, supportive comments because then you know that you have reached readers who are a good fit for you.

Unfortunately nice supportive comments can feel a bit stale after a while. By stale I mean tedious from familiarity, boring and static. I believe that blogging by consensus will not move you forward.

I am the first to admit that I’m the one leaving nice supportive comments on the majority of the blogs that I read. A post that gets a nice supportive comment from me is usually a safe, balanced post that leaves me a little entertained.

More often than not I find myself wishing that more was revealed, and that there was some talk of other less positive issues that I face, such as money problems, relationship issues, etc.

And what’s more, if a less shiny side of the blogger’s life saw the light of day in their posts then I would find it harder to simply write a safe, supportive, nice comment.

I have never received any negative or constructive criticism on any of my posts, but I know that if I did I would be lead away from my position in an attempt to please those who did not agree with me. I am quite sure this would happen even though I know that it is impossible to please everybody. If you’ve never had a negative comment then you should reread the previous paragraphs again, along with me, and repeat as necessary.

So where does that leave me? My safe posts attract nice, supportive, and often' ho hum' comments that may keep me in mediocrity (this is why I am sweating as I hover over the publish button for this post because I am biting the supportive hands that feed my ego) and if I write posts that move me forward then I must deal with any negative criticism in a way that maintains my position. It’s clear to me that I both want to, and need to move forward.

So here is the deal. I will find the courage to be a better blogger if you will comment in a way that moves me forward. I want comments that ask more of me. I want your interactive, brain switched on, comments and I want your gritty engagement.

I will offer you no less than that in my future comments on those posts of yours that make you sweat.

(Don't) Quit Your Day Job

     Sitting here this Sunday eve, I start to feel the effects of PMS; “pre-Monday Syndrome.” Now mind you I am blessed in the fact that my work week actually starts on Tuesday so I am spared what many feel in a handful of hours from now.


     Monday mornings, I do have to return to my drill sergeant duties in getting the troops ready for school, my chef’s duties in getting lunches ready and often off to the grocery to buy the required sustenance for the upcoming week, and I once again return my attention to the online banking and work related emails. Oh yes taxes...*urp*...taxes. (I think I threw up in my mouth a little).

     Anyhow – I often briefly scan my Facebook account to see what friends are up to, my duties on other accounts, posts and random how-do-you do’s. Most of the status updates however, post laments of Monday and the related dread of its arrival.

     In writing my book, one point I observed is that if people “hated” Mondays as much as they profess on my scrolling social network screen; and they lived an average life of approximately eighty years, they would be spending 11.4 years of their life in a state of dread and dismay. Profound huh? Add another day to the mix and, well, you do the math!

    I think this stems a lot from the proverbial “Day Job” that haunts us.

     I find it interesting as I sat here most of this wonderful Sunday creating my book proposal and query letters for my book I have written. I spent hours upon hours (my kids were gone or entertained), feverishly trying to give my dream the leverage to get published and perhaps unfurling my sails to venture into new and uncharted blue waters. My dream is to one day be at my own book signing, my book an inspirational tome to where I hope the attendees are if not moved at least entertained. I want the cardigan sweater with the patches on the elbows. I want progressively bad eyesight that accompanies the career of a writer. Okay, maybe not.

     Why is it I spent much of my coveted weekend propped in front of a keyboard “working” when I now dread going back to work? Why do others feel the same? When did our dreams of doing what we do, just simply become an income generator, a hurdle to get through, and like an old lover, we now only consider a friend (if at all)?

     What is interesting to me is when I ask people, “If money was not a concern, would you be doing what you are doing now?” The answer most often is “no”. Secondly and peculiarly is that what we would do for fulfillment is quite often completely and randomly different from what we now do. Does this shift occur from boredom with the task? Does it occur from external disillusionment? Were expectations to high to begin with? Perhaps a force we could not see like the economy caused our emotional detachment. Maybe who is in charge of our progression is a hindrance. It is rough when your boss is a mean or lazy a-hole, and you are self-employed...

     I often hear, “Don’t quit your day job” directed to someone following their passion. Usually a discouraging outburst by someone who wants to see you tethered to that which weighs you down. Ah, the day job; the nemesis of excitement, yet that which provides the necessary sustainability to exist in the dreamless world, and slows our progression to be able to peer through our sextant and focus on the next guiding star.

     What helps me is in reaching for my goals and new territory is that I realize that my day job is truly what keeps my boat afloat in the meantime. Also I am more aware of when I am simply wasting time. Recharging is one thing, but when I could be utilizing my efforts to achieve whatever task, hobby, or dream I need to work on, I am more in tune to my application of my mental and physical efforts.

     Funny too is that I realize now that in my desire to not be at work, and have my leisure time, I would often waste much of it with boring tasks, watching TV, or daydreaming. The daydreaming spent wishing my life were different. Who was to blame? What can I do differently?

     Now as I sit and try to narrow my 11.4 years to a more palatable number, I also spend reasonable time with reasonable expectations on adding variety to my life. Quit my day job? Who knows? The next best-selling author? I still don’t know. Cardigan sweater with the patches? Wal-Mart here I come.

     What I do find is that when my job and life become boring or challenging, the effort I can dedicate to another goal or dream is enough to distract from my displeasure with the “same ‘ole, same ‘ole.” It is energizing and nourishing. It often alleviates the “day job” from the target of my whining, and redirects my focus to healthier tasks.

     From hairdresser to writer is quite an odd transition. As I said, many of us find where we are quite a bit different from where we wish we could be. As I look here to my right I have a small square hanging from my wall with the inspirational quote: “What would you attempt to do if you knew you could not fail?” I am attempting mine---what would you do?


Note:
Repost from Artisan of the Human Spirit

Sleeping and Living Past the Snooze

The first part was posted to my blog this morning. I offer the epilogue to those who walked with me today.

      Do not fear no alarm clocks were totally harmed in the making of this day. Slightly injured but a full recovery is expected. I awoke when the first morning report should be falling off the printer’s paper tray. The adrenaline rushed through my body. Feet thudded on the floor and then I stopped. It was a complete and unequivocal stop. The wave of adrenaline subsided, the phone call was made and I obeyed the voice in my head, perhaps the heart or perhaps they spoke in unison. This morning I say thank you for the voice that says sit for a while and be still. Sit and know your heart. Sit and hear no voice but your own. Sit and listen to your breath, your skin and your eyes blinking. Sit and know who you are. 
      I offer my thanks to the voice that said stop. The justice of the world, the hope of the world and the work of the world must first begin with me. Today, for twenty four hours I am retired. For twenty four hours I have a new to do list. I have a new set of meetings to attend and they all start with me. Today, I will make a deposit into my own bank account, I will pay myself. Today I will hear my own voice of need. Today I will save the world and the world will be me. And this I do so that tomorrow I may reach out and love You, the world.
      The snooze day has come to an end. It was a day spent reading blogs of hope, laughter and the ever twisting and turning of life’s Rubik’s Cube. A day alone. Today I was the proverbial fly on the wall walking through people’s lives and eavesdropping on their hearts. Today I was alone among a community of people and our world. Tonight, I watched the sun drift lazily from the lofty heavens and nestle in the earthy horizon. From that same earthy horizon the moon arose to draw my gaze upward again. Like the sun and moon I’ve journeyed from heaven back to earth and from earth back to the heavens. Ah, that has been my day, a sort of vertically horizontal kind of day. I am ready to be a warrior again. May yours come very soon.

Sorry and thank you

I thought this post would make sense here. I'm also posting it on my blog.

I've wanted to write about this topic for a couple of weeks. And when I saw this image from Indexed this morning, I figured it was a sign.

Jessica's simple illustration communicates how shallow we are with our gratitude. We say "thank you" so many times during the course of a day -- when someone opens a door for us, when someone serves us water, when someone picks up something off the floor -- it's almost an auto-response. Without a thought. Without a pause.

But when someone does something we truly should be grateful for, do we take the time to express our gratitude? And then is a simple lightweight "thanks" enough? And what about the people closest to us -- the ones we take for granted -- how often do we sincerely take the time to communicate our appreciation for all they do?

Same goes for apologies. It's really easy to say "sorry" to strangers and acquaintances but so difficult to convey our heartfelt remorse to the ones we love the most. Why? Because of our inflated egos? Because it's too hard to accept we were wrong? Because it's too shameful? Because it means taking responsibility? Because it means we're accepting what jerks we've been?

There can be a thousand reasons ... but it just comes down to one thing -- we don't like acknowledging our failings. We don't like being wrong.

They seem so simple, but these two words are the ones we use the least in our most-valued relationships. Saying them is easy. Feeling them requires selflessness and introspection. Realization and acceptance. Humility and frailty.

We shower others with these expressions, but leave the ones we cherish impoverished.

Don't hold out on your loved ones. They won't just "know" -- these things need to be said, expressed, shown somehow. And most times, expensive gifts aren't required to do the task.

A simple but sincere expression of emotion is enough.

The Beauty that is Blogging

Many years ago I made a decision to stop reading newspapers and stop watching television. It seemed to me that there were too many depressing stories, too many scary stories and too many negative stereotypes being portrayed. Is the world really that bad? I think not. There are many good and happy stories that never get told.

In the UK, we have a lot of 'soaps' for instance. Programs such as 'Eastenders', 'Coronation Street' and 'Hollyoaks' and in these shows there are common themes: everyone is depressed, relationships are doomed to fail (usually through infidelity), people are miserable and bad things happen ALL the time.

Sure, you could say that these are only fiction but I happen to think that watching these sorts of shows affects people. I often see young people arguing and shouting at each other, seemingly emulating the sort of behaviour they see on the television. Who knows? Maybe I am wrong but I do often wonder, "What if these shows showed people being happy, successful and in loving lasting relationships?" How would the world change as a result of seeing positive uplifting messages consistently, rather than negative depressing messages that are so often promoted in the media?

This is my opinion on the media and it is why I have decided to be (as much as possible) media free. I say as much as possible, because every where I go I see advertisements - on buses, on posters, at train stations, even recently on the pavements! I imagine some people may laugh at my views and not see the damage media can do, but I see it. I see it very clearly when I walk into a newsagents shop and see magazines with women exposing themselves not just on the top shelves but in the daily newspapers. Young children walk into the shop and are exposed to this type of 'message' from their earliest age. If normal everyday women do not walk around with everything exposed, why is it acceptable to be bombarded (and where I live we are bombarded) with images of women in this way.

I'm not a prude. I think normal loving relationships are good and healthy but I would object to any woman walking into my home with everything on show. I'd ask her to have some respect and cover herself up - so why should I also not have concerns for the sorts of images you see regarding women in the media?

This is a large topic, too large to go into here but suffice to say, I believe that the media is very controlled and generally portrays some very negative messages regarding the world and people. At the very least, the media is very limited in its scope of the human experience.

Which is one of the reasons I love blogging. Blogging is a freedom. It allows individuals a voice. It allows individuals to share their thoughts, feelings and experiences with each other. I would much rather read about the life story of a real person in another country, than read about the latest bomb attack. I would much rather read a true story of someone's success over adversity than be 'encouraged' to buy the latest women's razor or perfume.

Blogging to me is a much needed antidote to the highly-controlled media world of information. I think I have already learned so much more from reading other bloggers' posts than I could ever hope to gain from reading the latest copy of 'Hello Magazine'.

So I'd just like to say thank you. Thank you to everyone that shares their thoughts, their feelings, their experiences and their stories. It enriches my life and my understanding.

P.S.
I have a problem leaving comments on blogger sites. It simply won't let me leave comments, unless they are in 'pop-up' mode so although I am delighted to be in such good company here, I haven't been able to comment for this reason.

This Time

Dear All, I intended to post this on my own blog, but after I clicked the Publish Post button, I realised I was posting using my Writers Rising profile. Looks like this poem was meant to be here. So here it is, and it's on my blog too. :-)

This time I will not
sit back and wait
For the leaves to turn yellow
and another winter to dawn
So I can relegate
my dream to a new spring.

Nor cast away the swirls of
myriad feelings
That wash over my soul
and speak to me
In ways they never have
before.

This time I will not
shy away
in fear and allow
walls
to be built
around me
To protect me from
the storm that has not
and may never come.

And should the storm come
this time
I will not choose to
be fearful
and run for cover to the closest
shelter
But look the storm in the face
and continue moving forward
Until the winds relent
and the rivers part
To show me my path.

This time I will not rest
until I have tasted
The freedom
of lasting happiness.