30 Minutes

I'm in the middle of so many things I can hardly keep myself sane. I'm updating my Twitter and Facebook accounts, and redesigning my coaching website. I'm creating a brand for myself and my coaching company, Authentic Realities Coaching (actually, I'm having someone else create it and I'm just approving it). I'm working on a coaching workshop on coming out for the LGBTQ community (and friends and families of). I'm building my coaching practice (2 clients and counting). And I'm working on the book with a deadline of July 31st to finish draft #6 and have it ready to be edited.

I've barely been able to find the time to relax, which has taken its toll on me in the form of sleepless nights. I've been waking up at 1AM, 3AM and around 5:30AM just about every morning. This week my coach is working with me on self care. Self. Care. How do I care for myself when I'm spending so much time caring for...not even for people, but all these things? And it's not like these things aren't things I want, but they're taking so much time out of my day, I don't have time to just sit and relax and be...or do I?

I've planned on taking 30 minutes every day that's just for me. Which is something I've had posted in my calendar for some time. It shows up as "Dian Time" and when the reminder pops up, I've been promptly dismissing it and getting back to whatever I'm doing. So it's time to start honoring that schedule. And how do I do that?

For me, it's about making clear exactly what I plan to do in my 30 minutes of Dian Time. So on Monday it was "plant cactus," which meant that I spent 30 minutes planting cacti I bought over the weekend to replace several plants that Jackson decided were planted for him as midday snacks. It took me about 15 minutes, so I then allowed myself to sit in the sun in the back yard and just relax. What a notion.

Yesterday my Dian time was "meditation." Now I didn't meditate for 30 minutes, but I did meditate for 10 minutes. And then went outside and soaked up the sun again. And enjoyed my newly planted cacti (after putting up a fancy wire blockade around the edges so a certain puppy wouldn't have easy access).

And today my plan is to walk on the beach. I have a meeting in Manhattan Beach at noon and immediately thereafter, I will be putting my toes in the sand and breathing in the ocean air and letting the energy of the earth rise through my body from the warm sand and rejuvenate my soul.

I figure with all this life going on around me, the least I can do is to take a few minutes each day to really enjoy it and not get so caught up in living the good life that I miss it as it passes me by.

Furrowed, Playful Brow

This weekend I finished my Coach Training with CTI and I'm exhausted! I'm still letting the learning sink in, so not much about that right now.

I feel a sense of relief lingering in my entire body now that the training is complete and I can go back to having all the weekends in a month to play with.

I have this overwhelming urge to talk about what I learned and the fantasticity (I'm a writer, I can make up words if I want to) of it all, and I'm trying to stay in a playful place because I've missed it so.

["What is playing, again?" she asks intensely with furrowed brow.]

And as I sit here and try to think about something playful to write...I'm not playing. So with that, I'm going to go run around outside with Jackson for a while and just be silly. And I think you should too. Jackson would love it!

Process

I sat in my chair thinking about how wrong it all was. How wrong that this man was yelling at this woman. How wrong that this woman was not able to ask a simple question to get further clarity. How wrong that this man was unleashing his frustration on this woman. How wrong that now it was two women and they were both crying. How wrong that these two women had been victimized by this man’s anger.

I wanted to walk across the room and hold those women. Hold them and tell them that everything was going to be okay. That this man was just a big bully and that his manners were terrible. That this man had lost himself and was too arrogant to see that you were just asking questions. I wanted to tell that man to get a hold of himself and have some compassion. I wanted to walk across the room and protect those women. Protect them from that man and his anger. 

And all at once I wondered what it was in me that made me think that these women needed to be protected. I began to think about my own emotions and was completely uncomfortable in my chair watching this confrontation unfold. Confrontation is uncomfortable for me and I can’t be with it. I can’t just sit there and watch it unfold. I need to take action; I need to do something. And instead of doing anything, I continued to question myself and my motives as to what emotions were being stirred in me by just watching it all happen. 

I felt uncomfortable, yes, but that was just on the surface. There was something more than discomfort there, something deeper. Underneath the discomfort I started to feel sadness. Sadness, not for the women being confronted, but for myself. Where did that come from? I could see my child-self in these women, and as a child I was incapable of protecting myself, I was incapable of standing up and speaking my mind--doing so would create a physically and verbally unsafe environment for me. As a child, I was unimportant  and need not share my opinions because they didn’t matter, and wouldn’t be heard regardless. As I sat there and thought about these childhood feelings that were very much visiting me in the here and now, it occurred to me that somewhere along the line I became an adult.

And as an adult I have grown to learn that I can and do stand up for myself. I’ve learned that sometimes people get angry, even get angry with me. Sometimes the reason is valid, and sometimes it’s not. Whatever the reason, I’ve developed the skills to assess the argument, know its truth and address it accordingly. I’ve learned to own my part of that truth and discard the rest as I see fit. And then a flash of anger came. 

As an adult I’ve learned these things, but as a child I hadn’t learned to protect myself. That job belonged to my parents. And they didn’t always do a good job. As I thought about that, the anger became stronger. Tears welled up in my eyes and my heart beat faster. What was this about? And almost without thinking, I began to sob, I began to yell, to spew, to actually feel the feelings instead of sitting in my discomfort and trying to shift the focus onto something or someone else. 

This experience happened over a period of a couple of hours, some of it in a large group of people, and other parts in a smaller, more intimate setting . These interactions and thoughts were the result of my training in Process. Process, being actually processing what’s happening for me right here and right now. What’s going on, what’s happening in my body right here right now, rather than what am I thinking about and how can I shift the focus from myself to someone else?

From that experience I was able to let go of some of the past simply by reminding myself that it was just that: the past. And the rest of it I was able to let go of because I allowed myself to just be present with myself in the moment. I was able to own my feelings as they were coming up, and acknowledge them, hold space for them and then give them permission to be released. I don’t need to hold onto that anger because I’ve now been able to express it. In that experience I was able to feel it all and let go of it pretty quickly. I suspect other things may not be as “easy” to release. But the important thing is that I’m learning to exercise the muscle that allows me to really be present with myself rather than deflecting.

Staying in the here and now has no room for anyone but whomever your emotions belong to (that would be you). I encourage you to find something you can’t be with today, and then to own it. For me, it was confrontation. My hands got clammy, my heart raced, I physically felt uncomfortable. Find whatever puts you in that place and then be with it. Really be with it. Honor it. Have compassion for yourself and those feelings, those emotions. Stand up for yourself and those feelings and emotions. Address them and love them. Actually feel your emotions. When you do this, the discomfort you feel will no longer be for hiding; it will be for growth.

__

This post is also available at coachdian.com. As I continue to build that site, I am working towards putting all coaching related posts there. I welcome your feedback!

Coming Back

I've been MIA, it's true. And all with good reason. Not that I need to get into any of that here, suffice to say that 7 Days is coming along better than ever, and I've been able to take some successful strides in my Coaching career. 

I have a couple of posts I'm working on around Balance and Process. Balance being how effectively we are able to balance ourselves on one leg while life is coming at us full force, and Process being what's going on right here and right now. These two pieces of my learning in Coaching have transformed my personal state and being. And that's what the posts will be about.

In a matter of just a few months I've read more books than I have in the past few years, and I'm thoroughly enjoying the growth I've encountered as a result. And maybe I'll have a post about that this week. 

All this to say that sometimes life comes at you. And what can you do but roll with it. I'm not sorry I haven't posted, but not posting reminds me how much I miss it. So, thank you for that.

Not What It Always Seems

I like to think of myself as an organized woman. Somehow this gives me the warm fuzzy that my mom would be proud. Which is really to say that my mom's psychosis of needing me to do what she said so she could feel loved and respected worked. I'm learning to let go of that, which makes me happy. I do so love things being clean and neat and tidy, but there are some things that just need the space to look and feel and be lived in. One of those spaces is the dresser in our bedroom.

There's the candles on the edge that give a cozy feel to it, knowing that at any moment we can light the candle and thus give life to the bedroom by creating the fire. There's the the self sufficient succulent which needs watering only every 3-4 weeks, but still needs watering or else it will die. The framed picture of love and smiles in the snow: even when it's cold outside there's warmth in the heart and seeing that always reminds me of just that. The cases for our glasses, which is just a part of life that we've accepted: sometimes we need help to see things clearly, and there's nothing wrong with a little help. My favorite pair of sunglasses which belong put away (as well as the other pair right behind them), but there they are, out on the dresser where they don't belong and which won't give me anxiety for at least another hour. The money on the dresser that may or may not be salvageable after Jackson decided $20 bills were his chew toys of choice. The money we budgeted for and did not spend and therefore set aside to spend in Vegas as a reward. Fat Bob, who's housed said budgeted and unspent funds until he no longer could fit anymore. A necklace which doesn't belong there but will sit there until it gets moved to its rightful place, be it around a neck or in a drawer, and until then will not give me anxiety because I refuse to let it. Three tubes of Chapstick because apparently moisturized lips are very important to me. And my very first business card proclaiming my status as a writer and where one can find samples of various parts of me and my writing. 

I look at my dresser and I no longer see clutter, but I see a life that is lived and a room that is lived in. These things will all find their rightful homes in good time. They will keep there until we need or want those items again, and then the cycle will repeat itself. Sometimes things get put away, and sometimes they don't. I worry less about the appearance of being neat and tidy simply for the sake of appearing neat and tidy. And I listen more to the importance of just letting life be what it is. And what it is is sometimes messy, sometimes clean and sometimes in between. But it's always lived, whether for outward appearance or inward reflection, only we can decide. 

Small Steps

This afternoon I finished my chapter on Acceptance from 7 Days and I feel great. It's crazy to me that writing about something that seemed so depressing while going through it is now so uplifting to me. I've learned so much from my father's death; so many really wonderful things in me have flourished as a result, and it's not that I'm happy about his death, it's that I've learned from it, I've grown, and I've become a better person through the process of it all. 

This past weekend I was in another coaching course with CTI and we focused on perspectives. I have more to post on that in a bit, but for now, I'm astounded at how little I've gotten done with my book in the past three years because I've looked at it as one giant step I have to take: write a book. It's not that I haven't done anything on the book, I have. I've even posted excerpts of some portions I thought might end up in the book here in this blog. But I never acknowledged myself for the small steps I was taking.

Every word I've written for this book has been a step that's gotten me to where I am now with it--whether it gets cut, fought for, or printed. It all leads me to whatever will get printed. So I'm celebrating this completion of this chapter by buying myself flowers for the flower box I put up today outside my writing space. I'm proud of myself, and I don't mind saying so. This is a small step. Which actually means it's a big step. Because in the end, any step is a step forward, no matter which direction it takes me. 

Fulfillment

For the next 3 days I'll be surrounded by an abundance of positive energy. Course #2 of 5 begins tomorrow in Glendale: Fulfillment Coaching. Based on what I've read in my Co-Active Coaching book, this weekend will be about coaching people into following their values. We all have values that are important to us, but when it comes to the daily task of living and honoring those values, we tend to spend a lot of time off course. I know I do. It's a constant battle to keep fresh in my mind what the big picture is with every decision I make. 

One of my values is self preservation. It's important to me that I maintain myself so that I don't get lost in anything or anyone and abandon myself, as I have in the past. I've ruined relationships over this, and several times I've come close to losing a job or two. I've been so involved in having whatever or whomever it is in front of me, that I forget that pursuing those things and/or people are not in line with a) who I am, b) what I want for myself, and/or c) where I want to be in life when it's all said and done.

Being fulfilled isn't about having things. It's about being healthy and whole. It's about honoring yourself and your values. And about taking care of yourself, even when things aren't easy. I watched A League of Their Own the other day (for the hundredth time, I'm sure), and a scene with Dottie and Jimmy stood out for me like it's never done before. 

Dottie Hinson: It just got too hard. 
Jimmy Dugan: It's supposed to be hard. If it wasn't hard, everyone would do it. The hard... is what makes it great.

See, they're talking about baseball, but I think this applies to our lives and everything in them. When I think about the best things in my life, none of them have come easy. The bliss of my late 20's was a direct result of going through and dealing with my mother's death. The bliss of my current relationship is the direct result of a tumultuous end to my last relationship. The enjoyment of sitting on my front porch writing this blog is the direct result of nearly 2 months of frustration between buying the house, closing escrow, and having Verizon drill holes in the walls because the builders didn't think about putting phone or cable jacks in any of the rooms. 

It took knowing my values and honoring them in order to get exactly where I am today: in a state of fulfillment. If I choose to ignore my values, I fall out of that state. If I choose to honor them, I stay here. It doesn't mean that everything is perfect, it just means that I get to make decisions on how I create my happiness, based on what I already know of myself. I take the values of time in the fresh air and being productive, put them together and I get wireless internet on my front porch. It's easy to sit inside on the couch and do nothing. But it's more fulfilling to be out here on the porch. I put the values of eating healthy and spending quality time with friends and family together, and I end up with making my own meatballs and sharing them for dinner with Jill and Erin. It's easier to order something or go out to dinner, but it's more fulfilling to make it myself and have people I love in my home. 

As I look back at the last few years of my life, it's been a crap shoot as to whether or not I'm honoring my values. I get better at it though, the more I practice. I don't expect to ever be perfect at it, but I'm pretty excited that, at the very least, I recognize what my values are. And I really don't mind working on honoring them, even as they change and evolve--even as I change and evolve. I don't mind the hard...the hard is what makes it (whatever it is) great. 

Wine or Not, It's In My Hands

I got an email from my best friend just after 12:30 this afternoon asking if I'd be interested in going to a business "mixer" at a local wine store/tasting spot near Long Beach. Why not? $20 very well spent.

I met real estate agents and brokers and life coaches and hypnotists and a minister/financial planner (whose motto is "Jesus saves, so why don't you?") and anti-aging specialists and wine connoisseurs and business developers...all in all, this was the perfect place for me to be tonight.

All weekend long I focused on becoming a life coach. And in this 2-hour spot, I got to actually tell people I was a life coach. Which means...I'm actually a Life Coach, certification or not. I networked with several people and ended up making plans with 3 of them to get together this week and talk about doing a seminar for first time home buyers. A couple of Realtors, a Lender, and myself are going to figure out how to put together something where people who have never owned homes can see the benefits of capitalizing on an amazing opportunity that's happening right now in the real estate industry: BUYER'S MARKET!! We all want to help people realize their goals of actually owning a home, and I'd like to coach them through the entire process (having just gone through it, myself).

It's all kind of mind boggling to me that this is even an option, when just last week I was only going to a training class. Last week my future was in the hands of this training class, and today my future is in my own hands. What a transformation! I can see the possibilities for just about anyone...sure, maybe that's the two "2-oz" glasses of wine that were poured tonight speaking. And still, there's something there. 

We all create our own realities. If we're open to opportunities, they come to us. If we're not, then maybe something other than opportunities come to us. It seems the choice is in our hands. Isn't it always?

Meditation

I'm truly in awe of this meditation thing. I can't seem to do two days in a row, at least not for any great length of time because, so far, each meditation has been such a powerful experience. I suppose with time I will have less to release, maybe less tension and more balance, and the meditations will serve as turning the covers rather than building the bed. 

Today's mediation was, again, focused on releasing the old and making room for the new. Aside from a quick peek 30 seconds into the meditation (it was actually on accident), I was able to keep my eyes closed without much effort. The hard part wasn't even keeping still, but sitting up straight and maintaining good posture. Maybe that will also come in time. As for the ease of the eyes and the stillness, I think I can comfortably attribute that to giving meditation the proper respect when sitting down with it. 

In the past I've believed that I couldn't do it. That it wouldn't work. That it was silly. That it was for other people, but not for me. That I'd have to be far to existential in order for meditation to work for me. That I'd have to wear long, flowing dresses in the wind and linen shirt/pant suits in order to really grasp the concept. Essentially, I accepted any excuse for not meditating.

And now that I've begun to make a (semi) habit of it, I'm finding that if I just let myself go, let myself think, the meditation does the rest. Elizabeth Gilbert talks a little bit about this in her book, Eat, Pray, Love, and maybe that's what allowed me to give meditation a chance. Apparently, just like everything else in life, meditation takes practice. 

So I will continue to sit in silence with myself and my thoughts, and be open to the idea that meditation is not just for enlightened people, but regular city folk like me, as well. And maybe, just maybe, one day I'll be able to get lost in myself so deeply that an hour or two goes by and my eyes don't even think about peeking.

More Risk, Comin' Right Up!

Risk #1 was making a decision to stay out of the corporate life and pursue a Life Coach Certification this year while continuing to work on my book. Risk #2 was to be a small risk, like going to a new hair stylist to get my hair cut (which I'm still resisting because I love where I get my hair cut, she's just so far away), talking to a neighbor I've never talked to (which I did, but it was only to tell him to shut the after-hours party down--twice), or play a game I've never played. 

But instead of any of those things, we decided to buy a house. And when we make a decision, we don't mess around. Within 48 hours there was a pre-approval on a loan (and a limit set for what we can really afford versus what the loan tells us we can afford). Within 48 hours of that, we went house hunting and found a house we actually want to put an offer on. And as of this morning, we're waiting another 48 hours to find out if our offer gets accepted, rejected, or countered. 

Yesterday morning I talked with my life coach about getting out of your own way. I first heard this term a few years back and I've always liked the idea. The idea that no one but me holds me back from getting what I really want. 

Jerry & Esther Hicks write:

Everything that I think that I need to do is all only in order to propel me to some place that when I get there, I think I will be happier. So, everything that I am doing, no matter what it is, all of my lists of rights and wrongs… are all about me getting to a manifestation that I believe I will then be happier... So, why don’t I take a short cut and just go get happy?

It's easy to wait for someone or something to come along and "make me happy". But in the end, it's really all about what I choose. Happiness is all in the hands of whom they're attached. If all I concentrate on are the things I don't have, then this remains my focus and I have little energy left for the things I want. When I focus on the things I want, I can always figure out a way to get what I want. I just have to stop resisting myself. 

There are probably 1,000+ reasons not to buy a house right now. The market is still going down. I don't have an income. My investments took a dive in the end of 2008. We're not married. We just got a dog. I stubbed my toe this morning. We can afford our rent. We like this neighborhood. We can't afford our dream house. We've never bought a house before. It's a pain in the ass to move. My toe still hurts....

I've done focusing on those things...and those things still remain true as long as I do. The market is pretty close to the bottom and will be on the upswing in the next year or two. My investments are still working well for me, including the investment I've made in myself. We're pretty solid, even if we're not married yet, we'll get there. The dog needs a yard. I hadn't thought about the toe until I just brought it up. Rent doesn't get us equity in this apartment building. We have cars that will drive us back to this neighborhood should we move out of it. We can afford a starter house and work our way up to our dream house. First time buyer programs will eliminate us from being first time buyers. Moving still sucks, but that's what movers are for. And toes...toes heal.

So with that, risk#2 of 2009 was actually putting an offer in on a house. We asked the Universe for an opportunity in this market to purchase a home in a good neighborhood that we'll be happy in for at least a few years (and maybe a few more details I'll keep to myself). The Universe responded with some options and waited for us to take action. Our action may not end with putting the offer in...we may have to up the offer to get into this house (as there are multiple offers on it already), or we may get outbid entirely. And then we'll move on to the next house...pick ourselves up, dust ourselves off, and start all over again. It's such a great process to learn. 

I had no idea this year was going to be so exciting. And we're not even through January yet!

So cheers to us for getting out of our own way...I encourage you to do the same!!

Inquiry: What Is Complete Joy?

I've been tasked by my life coach to explore what complete joy is to me. So I thought I'd explore this with you. 

The definition of joy is:

"the emotion of great delight or happiness caused by something exceptionally good or satisfying; keen pleasure; elation"

Some things that elicit joy in my life:

• Waking up on the weekend after sleeping in. And realizing it's still only 7:00am
• Winning a softball game in the bottom of the 7th inning 
• Watching the sunset from my favorite beach
• Getting licked by a happy dog
• A cat resting on my chest while I nap
• Seeing someone smile when they don't notice anyone's watching
• Watching someone open a gift they never expected to get
• Seeing a funny movie
• Watching a baseball game from any seat in the stadium, beer and hot dog in hand
• Just Like Heaven
• A cuddle in the middle of the night when she didn't even know she was doing it
• Pictures of my me and my dad and me and my mom
• Reading a book that speaks to me
• Realizing I've grown

I think the only way to really feel joy is to get lost in it. The moment I recognize it as joy I start to lose it. In the Pray portion of Eat, Pray, Love by Elizabeth Gilbert, she talks about experiencing something so fantastic she gets lost in it. She describes the experience as though she's living it right there in the pages of the book. And she realizes shortly into her experience that she doesn't want it to end. And the moment she has this realization is the moment the experience begins to fade. The more she tries to hold onto it, the quicker it slips away. I believe this is how joy works.

The most important part of happiness and joy and all things good is to actually experience them. "You had to be there," is so true. Even when a story is told well, it is impossible to recreate the atmosphere, recreate the action, the words, the laughter, the moment;  something different has ultimately been created. The importance lies in living the moment rather than reliving the moment. 

For me, complete joy is the act of experiencing these things that bring about emotion of great delight, keen pleasure, and elation, without stopping to wonder how it happened, why it happened, when it's ending, or when it's coming back. So...what is it for you?

Happy New Year

"Don't wish it were easier, wish you were better."

~Jim Rohn

There are days in the beginning of summer and in between summer and fall in Southern California when the temperature barely touches your skin. The wind sleeps the day away, the morning dew goes on vacation, and the sun works quietly with the clouds to neither burn nor chill you. It's not hot, it's not cold. The only way I've ever been able to accurately describe this is to say that the air is just...there. That air brings with it a sense of peace and balance. And maybe even a little good fortune. Which is what I've been able to experience this year.

Last year I spent Thanksgiving week in Hawaii absorbing all the positive energy I could get my soul around and carried that back home with me. I made some difficult decisions that hurt others, but ultimately became the best decisions I could have made in order to find peace within myself. When I came home I resolved to make no resolutions, but to just live my life. And still I found a way to make resolutions.

12 sunrises and 12 sunsets from a minimum of 12 different locations, combined. The sunrises I wrote down were in Runyon Canyon in March, Phoenix in April, Long Beach in October, and San Mateo also in October. There were probably 3 or 4 others, which count, even though I failed to document them. Which means I fell short of my goal by 4 or 5, but the sunrises I did get to experience were amazing. So this year the goal is more of the same. The goal involves no specific number, only a desire to see as many as possible. As for the sunsets: Corona Del Mar in March, Crystal Cove in April, Long Beach in June and August and October, and Seattle in August (thrice). Lather, rinse, repeat my sunrise goals: as often as possible.

I wanted to watch 6 MLB games in stadiums I'd never been to before. There was the Astros vs. Padres on opening day at Petco Park, Cubs vs. Astros at Minute Maid Park, Astros vs. D'Backs at Chase Field, and the Twins vs. Mariners at Safeco Field. We had talks of AT&T Park or McAfee Coliseum when we were up in SF for a tournament but it didn't pan out. We talked about US Cellular Field, but then a trip to Chicago never materialized. There were even talks of National Field if we visited DC, but like the Chicago trip, we never made it to DC. 8 down, 22 to go. Or maybe that's 7 down, 23 to go with the closing of The House That Ruth Built. 2009 holds trips to Dallas and Chicago, for sure. And possibly to NY, SF, and/or DC. If we reach all of those between April and October, we'll e able to get to at least 5, possibly 8. We'll have to wait and see what's in store for us. 

I also wanted to play 26 rounds of golf in 2008, and this I accomplished. Long Beach Little and Big Recs, Westchester, Aliso Creek, Bixby Village, El Dorado, Robinson Ranch, Heartwell, Dominguez Hills, Lakewood CC, and Rancho Mirage CC were the golf courses I played. Some rounds were solo, others with friends, but all brought me closer to myself. Golf is not about winning, only about doing better than my last round. I've gone from shooting a 130-something to shooting a 103. So this year the goal is to break 90 at least once, but that of course will be after I break 100. 

Speaking of doing better, the only resolution I have is to be a better person in 2009 than I was in 2008. I believe I accomplished this in 2008, and I believe this will be my only resolution for years to come: be better than you were before. 

As the year comes to a close tonight it will be spent with good friends, much laughter and some of the best energy I've encountered in all my years. This is what life should be. And may yours be the same.

Happy New Year and may 2009 bring you many days of balance and good fortune. And maybe even a few days of air that's just...there. 

Every Day

I've been working on this book for just over two years now and I'm finally starting to feel like I'll finish it. I had no idea what I was getting into when I started, only that I thought I could finish it in a year and that I'd be sitting at home writing something else and living off the fat paycheck I'd received for 7 Days. Things don't always work out the same in real life.

In real life it takes work. Daily work. Everyday this book requires me to write it. If I don't write it, it doesn't get written. And so I found myself 18 months into my dream project with it barely even started because I'd started and stopped and trashed it and started over time after time after time. And after umpteen times of this, I wondered if I was even capable of writing a book. 

I mean, people have told me they like my writing, and I've even gotten published (although one of the publications went out of business a year or so ago), but I've only ever written short stories. I've written essays and blogs and small pieces here and there, but nothing of the magnitude of a real book. With a front and back cover and more than just a few pages in between. 7 Days is no book report or short story or school assignment. 7 Days is...it's life.

And how do I get life down on paper? The answer is the same no matter who I ask: "You just write it." Apparently that's the only way things get written. I've tried staring at the computer waiting for the book to write itself, and two years later, it still is not written. But six months ago I decided not writing was for the birds.

I started doing what I do best: short stories. I looked at other books I've read and can relate to (Dark Nights of the Soul, The Year of Magical Thinking, Dog Years to name a few), and I realized that a book is nothing more than a collection of short stories that tie each one together. They can be tightly or loosely woven. There can be ten stories (I hear they call these chapters) or twenty-four. It all depends on the story I'm telling, and the way it ends up together. 

So these little excerpts I've been posting are the beginning to each short story. They all relate to each other in that they all are my experience with my father's death. And they all relate to what I learned from that experience. They all simply tell the story. Which means that unbeknownst to me, I've been writing this book all along. It's nice to finally figure that out.

Now that I know that I've been writing the book, I'm starting to worry that when I put it all together it won't make sense. I'm trying to put that worry aside and just concentrate on the writing. Every day. Every. Day. 

Rain

Rain soothes my head and calms my soul. I don't know how it happens, only that it does. I suppose this is true for a lot of people. Early this morning I woke up to the sound of rain falling on the concrete patio just outside our bedroom window and recalled several random childhood memories.

The first was of sitting on the hearth warming my hands to the fire as we watched the rain fall in the backyard of my grandparents' house when I was nine. The next was a quick snap to stomping in the rain gutter with too-big yellow rain boots in the alley behind my childhood home. And then came sitting on the beach with my mom in Hawaii when I was five. Sun shining, rain pouring in a small wave as the clouds passed over and just as soon as it came, it went, and I ogled the sky for the rest of the day looking for the next shower.

I'm sure my love of rain is sustained by living in a climate which rarely offers anything but sunshine, even in the "winter" months; there is no time in which to grow tired of the rain that is rarely here. I am also certain that I don't have the personality for Seattle or Portland, and am positive that depression would set in during the first solid week of grey skies (average number of clear days ranges from 58-71 in these two cities--which is better than the 66 minutes Barrow, Alaska offers, but still).

I love a cool morning where I can curl up on the couch with my girl and watch football, watching the rain fall outside the living room window. Or in this morning's case, where I can curl up in the king chair with our furballs while posting a mid-morning blog in my favorite pants and slippers. 

Hope everyone else is enjoying the rain as much as I.

Change of Plans

This morning I got sidetracked by Thanksgiving. Yes, I knew it was coming. But an invite turned into an un-invite, and a little portion of my family decided to just cook dinner ourselves. Which meant a trip to the grocery store on the morning before Thanksgiving, hoping there was still a fresh turkey smaller than 47-lbs to bring home. There was (10.06-lbs if you can believe that!), and aside from the few things I forgot to write down, I was able to get everything I needed--and most of it was on sale. 

I love Thanksgiving. Always have. When I was a kid I remember it being the only time everyone got together and sat at the dinner table without arguing. Not that we argued all the time, more that we (the entire family of grandparents, aunts, uncles, and cousins) all made an effort to get to Grandma's house on Thanksgiving Day to enjoy the entire day together. 

Grandma cooked everything herself and insisted that she needed no help. And she didn't. Grandpa expertly (and proudly) carved the turkey by himself. He presented the deliciousness as the last item of business before anyone was allowed to begin piling plates of potatoes and cranberries and yams and green bean casserole and stuffing. Dinner may have been cooked by Grandma, but it was always served on Grandpa's terms.

We sat around the table and talked about the things we were grateful for in our lives. We were thankful for each other, for our jobs, our homes, the food on the table, the friends we had, our animals. The usual things. And I was always afraid to say what I was really thankful for. We all tried to say something different from everyone else, and I thought all the good ones were taken. I also thought the things I was thankful for were dumb. 

I was thankful for my mom; and that of all the dogs that ran away from our backyard (we usually had 4), I was glad that Shuzbutt (my little scruffy blond mutt) wasn't one of them; and that the gutter down the middle of the alley behind our house filled up with enough water for me to stomp in whenever it rained. But even though these things were different from theirs and I was grateful for them, these things just weren't like what they were thankful for. I often believed the things I thought and said were dumb. My grandfather usually agreed. I didn't want to ruin the good time with my lame thoughts. Being a kid in my family made me wish I was an adult. And now that I'm an adult, I wish I could relive parts of my childhood. Like Thanksgiving. 

Maybe now I can. The details of why we had to change our plans are unimportant. What's important is that I get the opportunity to spend this Thanksgiving with 3 of my favorite people. And we'll have our own discussion of things we're grateful for. We'll all sit at the table and call it the kids' table, and we'll talk about things, silly and serious, that we're thankful for. There will be no such thing as a lame item of gratitude at our table. 

Silly things might be things like the home run over the fence in the Golden Bear Tournament, Sly's paws wrapped around my neck as he tries to make out with me, and the "your mom" banter that's part of our daily life at home. 

More serious things might be things like the clothes, the food, the home I have. And the people in my life. The opportunity to love those people. And to be loved by them. My little circle of close-knit friends brings consistency, accountability and humility to my life. These people love me for who I am . They encourage me to grow and change in positive ways. They support me in difficult decisions. And they also point out when I'm being stubborn or irrational. And then they love me just the same. We all accept each other with our differences and faults and changes and inconsistencies and humor and cooking skills and all the things we are separately and together. 

So I guess I do get to relive that part of my childhood. In my life today I am able to be thankful for all the things and people and opportunities I want to without feeling like anyone else's gratitude is more important or somehow better than mine; we are all equal, the adults we are and the children we used to be and still hold onto.

I will say what I think, what I want, what I feel in our discussion of things we're grateful for at the dinner table tomorrow. We all will.  

And all this from a small change of plans. 

Back In The Saddle

I've been MIA on vacation and while I've promised myself I'm going to write about the trip, it just hasn't materialize thus far. I'm working on it, in case anyone is interested, and should have something up by tomorrow--at least to get us through the first leg.

As for the writing of 7 Days, it's still coming. Slowly, surely, steadily. I find that writer's block is getting harder and harder to come by, if I just keep writing. Even if it's about nothing. Especially if it's about nothing. I feel so focused on this book that everything somehow reminds me of something I need to add, something else that relates to my father, one more thing that I want to delve into. If I keep writing about nothing I end up writing about something. It's genius. Not me, but the whole process. 

And then there's trying to fit it all together...

Catch Up

I've been hunkering down the past couple of weeks and really been getting some good writing done. Which also means I've been MIA, aside from the few excerpts (which have been the result of said hunkering), and the election posts from last week (which have been the result of not being able to ignore any of it).

I'm not usually a political person. Which isn't to say that I don't follow politics, I just don't talk about it all that much. My family was big on keeping opinions quiet when it didn't suit the surrounding company (and if I wasn't sure what they thought, even better to shut my pie hole about it). I'm comfortable talking about politics with my friends because most of them have a pretty similar line to mine. And when we disagree, I get all clammy and uncomfortable. Thanks, mom. 

So I'm breaking out of that, little by little. First I learned how to tell my father I was a lesbian, and next thing you know I'm marching down the street in Long Beach protesting the civil rights of gays and lesbians across the land. Sure, it took 9 years, but slow progress is progress, nonetheless.

Of course, this doesn't mean I've become an activist, by any means...simply that when I feel strongly about what I believe in, not only is it okay for me to have an opinion about it, it's also acceptable to voice that opinion. And it's okay to talk to people about those opinions, even if their view is (gulp) different from mine. It's a lovely country we live in, this United States of America. I just wish we were a little more United. 

In other news, I'm going on vacation. San Francisco calls. Flying into SF, then driving back via rental hooptie, so as not to destroy our own vehicles. Not exactly sure how long it will take us, but we have the whole week to decide. Planned stops are in SF (mainly because that's where we fly into), Santa Cruz (because I want to go to the arcade on the boardwalk), and some sort of wine tasting in Paso Robles ("tasting"). Other than that, we're playing it by ear.

So far we've gotten a few suggestions as to stops: Cambria (about 20 mins from Hearst Castle), The Phoenix Hotel (SF's world renowned "rock n roll hotel"), and The Madonna Inn (San Luis Obispo). Any others?

We've also taken to the idea of rescuing a pup. 25-40lbs at adulthood would be ideal. We're entertaining the idea of puggles, mutts, and other mixes that won't terrorize the kids. So far we've learned that puggles can be a bit hyper and yippee (which would irritate me more than the kids), so that's working as 2 strikes against the cute little buggers. We're definitely intent on getting a rescue, as well as the rescue being a pup. I'd like to train the pup myself how to poop on the carpet and pee on the couches. 

That about catches us up. So how are you?

Little Things

I've been reading through 300+ blogs and news articles this morning, catching up with what's going on since I left town Saturday morning, and nothing seems to be new. The presidential race is just the same, although it appears McCain is slowly falling in the polls. The dodgers are still behind in the series, although they did win with force last night at home. My cats sleep all morning, eat a snack, and then sleep all afternoon--although they have been awake longer this morning than I’ve seen in the past month. 

I like the subtle differences. Sometimes it's just a little, but just that little bit helps you look back and notice how much is different over a longer period. If you can notice that your hair now fits into a ponytail where it didn't just a week ago, you can look back and see that your hair has grown three inches in the last six months (and maybe it's time for a haircut). 

And if you can look at the little things in life that are just a little different than they were just a week ago, a month ago, a year ago...then maybe it's possible to spot growth you wouldn't have otherwise noticed. Maybe it's that your kid is in the 6th grade. Which means he/she has worked hard and grown enough to move on from the 5th grade. Maybe you finished a semester of school. Which means you've gained 18 more credits toward that degree you're working on. Maybe you've written seven blogs this month. Which surpasses your previous month by two blogs. Which means you've accomplished the first part of your monthly goal of blogging at least twice a week.

Every little change, every little accomplishment is a grain of sand. And the grains end up being our days, our shores, our lives. Every piece contributes to who we are, where we came from, and where we’re going. It’s not that we need to notice every little detail, it’s that we need not forget about them. They tell us where we’re going, who we are, where we’ve been. If we don’t like something we can always change it, but not if we don’t notice it.

That’s when we end up with hair that’s wild and unruly; don’t sign up for next semester’s classes; stop writing blogs; stop living the way we set out to when we got ourselves “realigned” after therapy, or that marathon, or vacation…whatever it was that got us “back” on track has slowly slipped out of our peripheral vision. We just need to look left, look right, and see what our shores, our lives really look like. Without that, we end up looking around ourselves, at an unrecognizable mess...singing Talking Heads lyrics to ourselves. And don't we all need to know how we got here?

Long Beach Sunrise

Yesterday morning I set set out to see the sunrise. Well, if I'm being honest, it was scheduled for Monday, but Mama didn't get a good night sleep, so an early morning sunrise just wasn't in the cards. Tuesday would have to do.

The last time I saw a sunrise in Long Beach was in December of last year. I walked to the beach a few blocks from my apartment at the time and watched as the earth rolled itself downward and the sun appeared to rise just over Catalina Island. 

 

I expected more of the same yesterday morning, but found something slightly different. 

 

The sun doesn't always rise over Catalina Island. I could say I was disappointed, but...as you can see, there was no need. And the above doesn't even compare to the beauty, the aura, the energy of actually being there. 

I stood on the life guard tower and was rejuvenated by the morning sun's peace and sovereignty. I was abundant with...with gratitude. With inspiration. With a vitality for life and a motivation to just be, to just live that I haven't felt in weeks.

I remember feeling the same way all those months ago. Some things change, some things stay the same. The birds still pecked into the water, the foam, the sand. There was a fisherman in hip boots casting his line out from the shore. There were birds flying overhead, people walking by. I had no iPod, no music, nothing more than the sounds of the ocean, the morning, the beginning of the day breathing life into us all. 

Apparently the sun doesn't have to rise over Catalina to make that happen.