I’m in a hurry, too.

For the last three days in a row, when I’ve gone out to my car in the morning, I’ve found the same things all fluttered about.

Leaves.

Just three or four. But leaves all the same.

Though not just any old leaves. These are leaves with some green…and some noticeable amounts of orange, red and brown.

And two weeks ago when I put my babies to bed under my skylight at 7:30, it was bright enough for me to worry they wouldn’t fall asleep. Last night at 7:30, it was pretty much dark.

I’ve checked the calendar. ‘August’ was still at the top of it.

Still…

• I will wear jeans, long sweaters, my red shiny clogs, boots, scarves.
• I have several exciting trips planned.
• Two minutes, let alone one hour, of rollerblading will no longer leave me looking like I just stepped out of the ocean.
• My runs will be (partially, then fully) in the dark and very, very quiet.
• This island where I live will get lighter.
• That island where I work won’t smell as noticeably like week-old, sour vomit.
• Canoodling will become less sticky and a new ‘purpose’ will be added to it: to get warm.
• Butternut squash will be on most menus.
• So will lamb stew. With potatoes. And peas.

I totally get it, trees. Fall sounds good to me, too.

Image credit: mary.w.e.

Filed under Myth or Reality | Tags: anticipation, autumn, change, fall, working, Writing | Comments (14)

Rapid hearts

We were a Tupperware family. Pastel and tinted. Yellow, green, blue, pink and white containers of all sizes filled our shelves and fridge. The big, square one stored the gum and candy packed for the long drive to northern Wisconsin every summer for family camp – and then held the one of a kind smell of Big Red, Coffee Nibs and Minocqua Maple Fudge inside it’s rubbery plastic walls all year, no matter what else we put in it. I would lift its lid at will to remember my summer.

There was another container that didn’t carry such happy memories. It was the Mother Bowl. It was HUGE, yellow and I could have comfortably sat in it until age 8. (Go ahead, Leslie, make the short joke…).

My brother apparently had something wrong with his heart (he’s totally fine now, as far as I know). My old and addled mind only remembers that he went to my grandpa’s cardiologist to get it checked out – and he had to run on a treadmill. They found that he had something called WPW, which apparently translated to ‘rapid heartbeat’. It would go like this: he would be playing basketball in our driveway with his friends, and then suddenly, he’d run in to the kitchen, grab the Mother Bowl, fill it with ice and water and plunge his face into it. And then he’d stand on his head.

Apparently, shock therapy was the remedy du jour.

When I was in high school, I started getting anxiety attacks. I thought I was dying and I was too scared for a while to ask anyone if I was – scared that the answer was yes. My way out of them, when they hit me, was to move. I had to bust my body out of the terrifying static that was paralyzing my limbs, eyes, ears, brain.

And it recently occurred to me that I, and maybe you?, were taught that when things really got going, when our hearts were racing and our minds were burning and our bodies were firing with energy – that the thing to do was jump off the track, get out, make it stop at all costs.

I can’t help but wonder what it would have been like to have someone grab my little scared hand, or better yet – for a magnificent voice deep inside me to grab my attention, and say, “Don’t go. Stay with it, ride it. Because this is the road to the next thing. This is the good part.”

Image credit: EraPhernalia Vintage

Filed under How To, Myth or Reality, Writing | Tags: anxiety, blog, Blogging, change, copywriter, life, stress, writer, Writing | Comments (14)

Because sometimes, things need a little massaging

I’m not usually into massage. I think it’s because 7 years ago, I had an especially intense rub-down of the Ayurvedic variety and woke up the the next morning to greet my first of 40 some-odd kidney stones. Now granted, the massage didn’t give me the kidney stone. When they did an MRI, my kidneys were so chock-full, they looked like a 1960′s fallout shelter – just substitute cans of tuna and beans for tiny, jagged rocks.

What the massage did do was take me from my deliriously innocent state wherein I was 29 and believed myself to be the picture of health (and immortality). The massage moved things along, it encouraged my body to release and let go of some nasty stuff (well, one little nasty stuff on that day).

But the thing was this: I didn’t know there was a blockage that needed to be cleared, or a fullness that needed to be released. Why? Because it’s a slow road to the tipping point here…like the formation of rust stains around your bathtub drain.

I know some of you are screaming, ‘Catalyst! The massage was a catalyst’ at your computer screen. And you’re right.

When I think about writing (and yes, life in general), I think about all of the ways that we get blind. Let’s see, we often don’t see clearly our:

• Talent
• Impact
• Routines
• Opportunities
• Ruts
• Mistakes

Getting stuck, blocked, over-full? Just the kind of thing that sneaks up on a person in light of this blindness. And the massaging can come in handy. At the time, I cursed that catastrophic massage (okay, I’m still a little, teeny, tiny bit bitter). But, honestly, I’m grateful, it forced me to look at something. It was painful, but it was fruitful. It was a momentous passage in my life.

In eastern medicine, the kidneys symbolize fear. When I went to see my homeopath, all those years ago, to tell her about the stones and find out what was wrong with me, she looked me right in the eyes and said, “There’s nothing wrong with you. Not many people get to face their fears, overcome them, and then watch them leave their bodies, you know.”

No, not many people do. Nothing like a little affirmation that says, Kid, you’re doing okay. Even if it does hurt like a bitch.

This post is dedicated to my wonderful massage therapist who massaged some fantastic stuff out of me yesterday. Thanks, Jason…

I’m sending out a little musical juice with this post this morning…because it’s Friday. Listen to it loud. (Don’t watch the video, it’s nowhere near as good as the song – sorry Ms. Harmer.)

_____________

Image credit: JMazzolaa

Filed under How To, Writing | Tags: change, massage, transformation, Writing | Comment (1)