Welcome!

Early one morning I decided to play the Coincidence Game:  State a question to the universe and then notice meaningful coincidences or synchronicities that relate to your question.

My question to the universe was “should I initiate my own blog?” 

After my morning workout at the health club, my friend Pat cornered me in the locker room.   Pat and I are both in our fifties trying our best to straddle the youth we still feel in our minds with the aging deterioration of our bodies.   

“Are you on Facebook?”  Pat asked me and we launched into a discussion about how Facebook and other social networking sites are starting to creep into the workplace as business tools.  Within minutes our conversation spread through the locker room confirming Facebook’s place in our culture.     Hmmm, universe coincidence number one?

When I arrived at work, my friend and co-worker Jeannie, one of the most generous people on the planet, called me and asked me to stop by her desk.   She had picked up a little something for me on one of her recent travels.  Knowing my heart loves to write, Jeannie’s gift was a small journal.   On the cover is a drawing of an empty bird cage and about 20 birds flying freely above it.   The words next to the cage, from an unknown author, are:

                “She decided to free herself, dance into the wind,  create a new language.  And birds fluttered around her, writing “yes” in the sky.”

I had my answer.  I had to figure out how to create a blog….

Lynn, my writing teacher, calls me ‘a screaming introvert, but an extrovert when I write’.

All I know is there is a lifetime inside – a crusted over, gooey, sometimes toxic sludge that oozes out of my pen and sticks to my hands all the way up to my elbows.   Over and over I poke my pen in the mud, stirring it up.   When it dries up, rather than sweep it away I add the water of tears turning the dust to puddles of mud pies, serving them up like stacks of pancakes on a paper platter.  I scrape, prod and mix up the mess, tracking footprints and handprints of it onto the paper.  

Digging through sometimes I usually find more crap and memories.   Memories that make me cringe, memories that make me cry, memories that make me laugh, and most of all memories that make me understand just how I managed to get f—ed up in the first place and how I am maybe coming, finally, into my own. Sometimes, not often, I find pearls and gold, hidden treasure radiating promise and hope that I might have something meaningful to say. 

Why do I do this?

·         My heart insists, no, it commands that I write.

·         When I speak, I trip over my words and my face turns red.   But writing flows in all colors.

·         The Universe said “Do It!”

·         The secret writing extrovert wants an audience.

 

And so I offer my writing to Thoth, the Egyptian God of Writing, to the Divine Mind, to the Universe of the Internet and to you. 

Feel free to read and laugh at my lame attempt at finding a life.  I hope you enjoy and I encourage you to come back.   I cannot promise pearls and gold every time, but I do promise words from my heart.   

I welcome your comments and feedback. 

Namaste

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