It seems that I’m a little obsessed with my website. In a good way. Today I’m happy because all the links work! I got to spend time on zoom with my son, and I know what I (we) need to work on next.
The blue filter is gone. The menu bar is still showing and stayed simplified. OMG Wait until I get to change all the fonts!! Are you yawning? It’s okay.
I’m hoping to feel some of this enthusiasm for book formatting as well, (still yawning? I get it). In the meantime can I just say how excited I am that in the near future anyone, and I’m hoping
A N Y O N E
will be able to find my books! Peaceful Hearts taught me a lot. One of the most important things was about ease. Which there was a glaring lack of when it came to finding it. Most people who saw the book got a little excited, but most people never did ever see it.
Every time I click one of the links that takes me to Amazon and specifically digital Peaceful Hearts, I feel a leap in my heart for the possibility of (oh my goodness!) ease!
What’s also cool to me is that its a cute link on my website or a not so cute link I can share here or really anywhere! In theory anyway…
If you want, you can click around and see if you can find it for yourself!
Any amount of enthusiasm will get me up and moving.
Wanting, Desire. A need will drive me.
One time I read a book about how to spin wool into yarn. The book had beautiful pictures and well written instruction. The yarn spinning was just one chapter. It also showed weaving and dying and other fiber arts. I checked this same book out from the library over and over. The night I read about how to spin it was late. Everyone was long asleep except the baby. The instructions told me to buy a drop spindle and where I might find one. It said to get some wool and what kind was best for a beginner.
Then it said if you had to try it immediately, to get a pencil, a potato and some cotton from the top of a vitamin bottle.
I may have been exhausted from a full day with little kids and being up with a baby, but I was up and searching in the dark for cotton and a potato.
By morning I had taught myself to spin. Not one bit tired, I NEEDED to find and acquire a drop spindle and some yarn.
On this rainy indoor day I have decided to talk about the art of housekeeping.
I have been romanticizing domestic godliness for as long as I can remember. Mrs.Tiggy-Winkle, the hedgehog laundress was an odd idol, but what can I say?
Sarah Ban Breathnach wrote her famous pink book ‘Simple Abundance’ on and around this topic. She referenced many literary passages that had a big impact on me. Who needed Pinterest? I was inspired to work hard on my efforts to contribute domestically to better my family’s life. Her seasonal, literature-inspired chapters made it all sound super fun.
My mother was easily a domestic goddess. She excelled at ironing, cleaning, organizing and maintaining a household. She was the gold standard in this genre. Until, well, G’s mom could steal her crown, only because she does it all so happily. She truly rivals Snow White in this department.
Did you know wolves can’t be domesticated? You can hand raise them from birth, even motherless they grow into wild creatures who don’t make man their pack leader. Our pet dogs care deeply about pleasing us, wolf pups don’t know how to care about that. They will knock over the fridge and ransack your house because they are born and remain, wild.
The first chapter of ‘Untamed’ by Glennon Doyle describes a zoo cheetah trained to run after a stuffed animal for a crowd . (she paid extra to see this spectacle). The author describes so perfectly how the cheetah returns to its wild self after the show is over. Some readers resonated with this metaphor. For me it explained a lot.
I was trained. I had examples, I cared. I wanted to please and comply, I was motivated. I had every reason and privilege and incentive to learn. How did I not become tamed? How did I grow up so feral? I honestly can’t say.
Don’t ask me if the grass needs mowing. I can’t tell. Keeping things up is not something I have an aptitude for. I load dishwashers wrong, set the table incorrectly, clean floors and do laundry in utter randomness. I never follow recipes. I don’t plan menus unless it’s for a party. I don’t mind these tasks and actually adore utter cleanliness (thanks mom!) I appreciate good gardeners and quality housekeeping services, I even make chore doing fun when its up to me.
I think it might be the routine part that I have trouble with. Just a theory. I love a whim. I love chaos and thrive in it. I love order too! I love the dance between them. I crave differentness. I am equally fascinated and stumped by regularity. It’s taken me years to understand this about myself.
I’ve always been a square peg adrift, in a sea of round pegs in round holes. It took me years to look for square holes. Why did I think I could change who I was?
My new environment has me revisiting my old quest to change, only now I see the humor and folly in the whole concept.
‘Peaceful Hearts’ I originally titled ‘Wild Hearts’. I had yet to read about the cheetah, but I likely always knew (without wanting to know) about my inherent wildness. Today, it’s not about liking or embracing this, it’s about being true to myself. It comes down to inner integrity. This girl has to be herself no matter how the table is supposed to be set.
Looking back I can see myself at different ages completely in love with so many different albums.
When I love something I really really LOVE it. I can’t help this, I might play the same music over and over and over (I read books and watch movies again and again too). I can look back with such fondness on so many of my old favorites and easily be taken back in time by a song. Its fun to revisit music from a different perspective. Lately I’m on playlists and presently between obsessions.
Music, my life soundtrack. I could make a list, but it would be long
It’s going to rain all weekend. This is a harrowing thought. Apparently we need to brace for it. So today we are heading to another beach town hoping for waves. I don’t mind rain, but I get it, it doesn’t let up once it starts here so you really are stuck inside).
Last time we did this, nothing went smoothly. Closed for the season is no joke. Finding an open bathroom was the highlight of my day. Whoever heard of food places without bathrooms? I’m not in CA anymore! Anything can happen.
I’m prepared for cold, wind, thirst and hunger. I brought a book and some paper to draw. I feel like the mom of a toddler, but if this day goes awry and I fall out of regulation, I’m ready!
Armed with music, podcasts and hot coffee, my aim is to keep my energy light. I have set my expectations low, turned up my humor, and dressed in layers. I’ll be fine. Besides I could use a computer break. The ocean is always nice.
Which topics would you like to be more informed about?
At the moment, it’s the computer I wish I knew Indesign and Amazon KDP better. If I could maneuver through these I could make this next leg of my journey so much easier.
As it is, I am spending hours in trial and error, googling, breaking down every step, failing… I just ordered a proof that will most likely be completely wrong for reasons too complicated to explain. One guy said not to trust the preview because it only shows portrait format, and my dimensions are for landscape.
Im telling myself that it will be good to see the quality and size of the book printed out. It’s just part of the process even if it’s all sideways and wrong.
I wish everything I need to know to make this easier could be downloaded into my brain. right now!
Oh, I checked on the digital copy that did publish successfully. It’s small, but correct. I’ll try to order a copy of it and see if I can see it on my phone. Research. It’s all research at this point.
Life would be sad and way less fun. Joyless. Lonely. A emotional flat line.
No one knows me like my music.
I think it would be the loss of an important connection for me. I can’t explain it. I lLOVE the ease of music on my phone any time day or night. EarPods, headphones, these regulating devices save me SAVE me. A good car stereo? Oh my! I love love love loud music in my car. That’s a favorite. Or blasting throughout my house filling up every space. Music. Its art, it’s life, for me, it’s too important to live without.
This question prompt has overwhelmed me with gratitude for all the music I’ve enjoyed over the years and all of what I get to enjoy now. I freaking love my music!
I just listened to a podcast about pleasure and pain. I guess I’m a Hedonist. I’ve probably evolved into a more responsible one over the years, but I’m pretty sure I’ve always preferred pleasure.
I used to think that pain equals good and pleasure equals bad, which explains all the marathons and 5am gym attendance. And dieting… I even devised many creative ways to endure hardship and discomfort while making them a little fun.
Turns out, suffering was never supposed to be fun. And guess what else? Suffering is not the way to happy. Being good at suffering is not a real goal.
Pleasure, real pleasure is actually a good thing. I’m not sure when this occurred to me, but I’m glad it did! Even now I’m still letting go of the guilt. I may have spent way too many years feeling guilty for enjoying my life. I’ve always been the irresponsible grasshopper, to everyone else’s worker ant. That parable packed a punch for me. Ive felt properly guilty for having fun, but still I never could change.
It’s not that I haven’t worked hard, it’s just that I like what I’m working at and I work hard at what I love. I also REALLY bask in the good and seek out the beauty and wouldn’t you know it, my life is brimming with wonderful things.
Which I still feel I want to apologize for. Or explain away. Don’t get me wrong, things are not ideal, in fact lately, they are a long way from perfect, but every day I wake up to fresh possibilities. to a new ever evolving moment in life. I still feel lucky. I get to laugh. I get to smile and I get to bask and delight.
When I have a hard day or moment, I have a name for it. Its called dysregulation and I know it’s temporary. I know what kinds of pleasurable things I could opt to do to bump myself back into balance. Small pleasant actions taken on my own behalf move me toward regulation. I think I’ve always known this. Music, flowers, chocolate, a walk, a phone call, pizza…Not as distractions, just sometimes a little nurturing is in order.
Oh to go in the direction that I want to be going and enjoy the process. Oh to love all of the little things like walking on dew soaked grass in the early mornings. Sunsets, sand, beauty, fun…
I want to do some things. I’ve done a lot of things. I’m here on the planet for a limited time, I guess I would like to enjoy it. No more guiltily painting or drawing. I’m calling it ‘work’ and if that makes me one of the grasshoppers, Im good with it.
I’m sweeping guilt out of my life at long last and learning to embrace my love of pleasure. It’s okay to be this way. It’s okay to not be. There is room for all of us here. Going forward I welcome my Hedonistic pleasure loving self. I’m not the only one. Where ARE my grasshopper people?
I have always loved tradition. I love hearing about every cultures celebrations. I love that as humans we have a long history of celebrating. It seems to me that celebration is a kind of thankfulness. We repeat this year after year passing a little of who we are as family down through generations. Does it remind us that we are part of something? I like feeling connected. Connection seems important.
I know when I’ve been away from home or someone else is, I’m miss my family. I miss each individual and I miss our whole. Even while embracing and appreciating other’s family and their unique traditions, I can’t help missing mine.
It might be a little comforting to make a certain food or add a favorite decoration or hunt down hot cross buns or poppers, it’s never the same without my beloved family members around.
Life moves fast. Change is happening continually. I think tradition can be a comforting constant. I think celebrating is fun. Its a sweet way to share our love, and add some beauty, light and magic into our lives.
Write about your most epic baking or cooking fail.
I accidentally gave my husband food poisoning.
It’s kind of a long story.
In the 90s, before it was a thing, I found a farm that had free range turkeys for thanksgiving. I was all about eating food that was raised kindly. I wanted a turkey that had a good life. I joined a co-op organic garden that played Mozart over loud speakers to the fields of vegetables around this same time.
No one else in the co-op showed up. It was all pretty experimental back then so we had the whole garden to ourselves. Me, my little family, the farmers and Mozart. It was lovely.
The turkey came from a neighboring farm. I did what I saw my mother do all the thanksgivings of my life. I prepared the stuffing, stuffed the turkey and roasted it for the suggested time. There was left over stuffing I put in a dish and cooked separately.
Did you guess that the stuffing did not heat up enough even though the rest was cooked perfectly? No one but my husband ate the stuffing from inside. He was super sick and blamed me, the happy turkey and my hippie ideas forever after. I’m pretty sure I talked him into being a vegetarian before the following Thanksgiving!
Peace Kit 