See You In The Field

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Out beyond ideas of wrong-doing and right-doing, there is a field. I’ll meet you there.


I love this quote from Rumi. It has taken on even more meaning for me as I’ve gotten older. After a lifetime of fighting for causes I believed in, and of taking one side or another in a debate of the issues, I have come to realize that the times when I have been the most productive, and the most peaceful, have been when I have found a middle ground to stand on. In this yes/no, either/or, right/wrong culture that most of us have been brought up in, there is another way: Both/And. There are people, and ideas, and beliefs that can co-exist side by side without having to choose between one or the other. When conflict does arise, we can find that place in the field of common ground and utter what seems to have become a dirty word in this day and age of name-calling and finger-pointing: compromise. Let me tell you a story:

Two men meet while sitting on a park bench on a lovely autumn day. One man is a Christian, the other is Muslim. One man is a Republican, the other a Democrat. One man is white, the other is a man of color. And yet, as the time passes they find things to enjoy together: the children playing with shouts of joy, the beauty of the day, a daredevil squirrel leaping from tree to tree, the warmth of the sun on aging bones. Then one of the men mentions how the price of a cup of coffee in this neighborhood has sky rocketed. The discussion then moves to things like the price of coffee beans, climate change and its effects on crops, tariffs on imports, and so on. Yet the men do not get into a yelling match. Maybe, they agree, the answer is to be found in what is the fairest for all concerned. Or, maybe, it just depends on where you live and how much you are willing to pay for a cup of coffee before you decide to make your own at home and save your money. They chuckle in agreement over how they have just solved the problem of an overpriced cup of coffee. As they get up to leave, they shake hands and wish each other a good day. Perhaps they will see each other here again. Each goes off in a different direction with a smile on their face.

I know that this sounds like a simplistic response to the turmoil and terrible separation that is going on all around us right now, but more often than not the answer to life’s problems are to be found in the simple things like allowing that the other side just may have a point worth discussing, and that, for the good of all, there is always a middle ground to stand on.

This week our writing assignment on the Home Page is going to challenge us to find our middle ground, our field beyond ideas of wrong-doing and right-doing. I will not tell you to have fun with this one, but I will challenge you to find the very best that is within you and within all of us. In the meantime, just keep writing.

Peace and blessings.


Fierce With Reality

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I came across this poem by the brilliant writer, teacher and activist Parker Palmer while reading his book, “Let Your Life Speak” for about the third or fourth time. It’s amazing how we can read the same book numerous times and, each time we do, we find something new that speaks to us, something we somehow missed before. I don’t know if we truly missed it, or if we were just not ready to see and understand it. In any case, here is his poem:


The plow has savaged this week field

Misshapen clods of earth kicked up

Rocks and twisted roots exposed to view

Last year’s growth demolished by the blade.

I have plowed my life this way

Turned over a whole history

Looking for the roots of what went wrong

Until my face is ravaged, furrowed, scarred.

Enough. The job is done.

Whatever’s been uprooted, let it be.

Seedbed for the growing that’s to come.

I plowed to unearth last year’s reasons – 

The farmer plows to plant a greening season. 

We cannot hope to build an authentic life going forward if we do not accept and embrace who we’ve been and where we’ve been. That means taking the good with the bad, the shadow side with the side we show the world, and the history that we have lived, and owning it all. We can spend a lifetime trying to figure out the how’s and the why’s of what went before, but as my Buddhist friends have tried to teach me, “not knowing” is okay. In fact, it is a blessing. When we go through life with “beginner’s mind,” we are open to whatever comes along with no attachment to the outcome and no self-criticism if things don’t work out the way we thought they should. This was a hard one for me to learn, especially as I am the eternal academic, always searching for answers to questions that have been asked since the beginning of time and may very well remain unanswered for eternity.

I know now why this poem waited for me, only to reappear again when I needed it. It is because Autumn is my favorite time of year, harvest time, a time when I usually pick new ideas and projects to pursue just like kids starting a new school year. I needed to be reminded that whatever I did not accomplish this year, or even in this life so far, does not need to be uprooted and examined. All I need to do is plow it under and let it compost into the soil, ready to accept the seeds of new ideas. It’s all part of who I am and where I’ve been, as author and psychologist Florida Scott-Maxwell tells us:

“You need only claim the events of your life to make yourself yours. When you truly possess all you have been and done … you are fierce with reality.”

When you think about it, that’s not a such a bad way to start planting the seeds for the greening of an authentic life.

This week over on the Home Page, our writing assignment will ask us to look at what we’ve been trying to “uproot.” Be honest, plow deep, and remember to just keep writing.

Peace and blessings.

Your Gift To The World

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One of my college professors gave us an assignment to do that entailed researching what was going on in the world on the day we were born. As I had returned to college in my 30’s, I was, at any given time, usually the oldest one in the class. So it stood to reason that I would have to dig a bit deeper than my classmates to find out what was going on in the world way back then – or, as my children used to say, in the Stone Age.

I was born in July 1949. Harry Truman was President and we were still feeling the repercussions of World War II. It was the era of the “Fair Deal.” The best-selling books of the day were: “1984”, “Death Of A Salesman”, and “The Martian Chronicles.” Clearly people were as curious about the future as we are today. Box office movies included: “Samson and Delilah,” “The Third Man,” and, “Rope and Sand.” The No. 1 record in the nation (yes, I said record, not MP3 or CD) was: “Riders In The Sky,” by Vaughn Monroe. 1949 was the year we saw the first woman to graduate from Harvard, the country of Siam became Thailand, and, on the very day of my birth, the great Stan Musial and the St. Louis Cardinals beat the Brooklyn Dodgers. I share my  birthday with the likes of Billy Joel, Richard Gere (be still my heart), and George Foreman.

So what does all this have to do with anything?

The one thing missing from that list of notable events and people was this one: I came into the world. After all that digging and research, that was the lesson my professor wanted us to know. On that hot day in July, at 6:30 in the morning, the one and only “me” came into this world, complete with all of my gifts, and heritage, and dreams, and goals, and with a blank page upon which to write my very own story. There was no one else like me born on that day, or on any day before or after. As my mother was fond of saying, “after they made you, they broke the mold.” And the same is true for you.

There is only one you. Yes, you may have shared a life and a history with siblings and other family members, but, individually, you are a unique and never-before-seen individual with infinite possibilities at your fingertips. How exciting is that? Even more exciting is the fact that, the older we get, the more things there are for us to discover, create, and experience, not to mention all of the moments in history that we have experienced, things we never dreamed would actually come true back when we were reading “1984” and “The Martian Chronicles.” We saw a man walk on the moon. We saw the creation of computers, cell phones, and electric cars. We saw an African-American man become President. How else can we use this gift that is us? I’d say that the world became a little richer the day we were born, wouldn’t you?

This week over on the Home Page, our assignment this week is going to entail a bit more than just a 20 minute writing practice (I bet you know where this is going).  Let’s have a blast with this one and, as always, remember to just keep writing.

Peace and blessings.

Lessons For A Lifetime

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I am what you might call an eternal student. From the time I was very little, my mind was always on the lookout for some new idea or concept that I was sure, in my childish brain, would explain the world to me. My mother said she should have named me “Why?” because of how often I used that word day in and day out.

Learning is what keeps us growing and evolving. Learning not only sharpens our mind, our ability to reason, discern and discover, but it always leaves open the possibility that there is something that we don’t know that, the knowing of it, could change everything (I borrowed that idea from the brilliant Neale Donald Walsh, author of the wonderful Conversations With God series). Take for example what happened to me when I was in my 30’s.

I had always wanted to go to college after I from graduated high school back in the 60’s, but in those days the mindset was that girls only went to college to find a husband, or to take up a profession that would take care of them should anything happen to that husband, like death or divorce. The culturally approved professions at that time were teacher or nurse. Secretarial work was the holding ground where we worked to save for our weddings and fill our hope chests until we said “I Do.” My parents very much agreed with that train of thought so I was shipped off to Manhattan to find suitable work until I found a husband, but I never gave up hope of returning to school.

That dream came true at the age of 30 when, with the help of my church and some scholarships for women that had evolved thanks to the Women’s Movement, I was able to return to school, part-time at first, then full-time, juggling work, home, kids and school for the 6 years it took me to get my degree. In every class, even the required subjects we had to take like science and a language, I found something new and wonderful that I had never known, something that gave me a new perspective on the world. Imagine, then how much wider that world became for me when I started going deeply into my own course of study which was religion and philosophy. Where had all this information been hidden and why didn’t anyone tell me about this before? Because knowledge is power and women weren’t allowed to have that when I was younger. Praise Heaven that has all changed.

Now, every September, when the kids go back to school, I search for some new project that I can start as well, one that will teach me something I don’t know or understand, and offer me new perspectives on myself and the world I live in. Some years I have chosen something just for fun, other years I decided on things I needed to know (like computers which, sadly, is still an ongoing project for this non-technical person). In every case, I learned something that, the knowing of it, made a difference in my life.

We are never too old to learn. I have read of people in their 70’s, 80’s, and even 90’s who have taken courses, learned a new skill, even graduated from college. There is no expiration date on learning. At the tender “young” age of 69, I am contemplating which subject I will pick for this year – there’s a whole world of knowledge waiting out there for me. Who knows what I will discover next? How about you?

This week on the Home Page, our writing assignment will challenge us to take the plunge into the unknown to see what it has to teach us. As always, have fun with it and remember to always keep writing.

Peace and blessings.

With Praise And Gratitude For Teachers

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Tomorrow my very first great-grandchild starts kindergarten. I cannot believe I have been blessed to be able to experience three generations of my family starting that new and exciting journey. My prayer for each of them has always been that they are lucky enough to find that one, special teacher who will see them for who they are and help them cultivate their talents and gifts. I was blessed to have had two in my elementary school days and what they taught me still lingers after all these years.

You may have heard me talk about my 6th grade teacher, Mr. Zimmler, who ruled his class with an iron grip, more drill sargent than teacher to the naked eye, but who, underneath his “no-nonsense-follow-the-rules” exterior lay the heart of a poet, a lover of the written and spoken word. It was his powerful use of punishment essays that led some of us to repent of our rebellious ways quickly before our hands fell off from writing. For others, like me, it was actually the tool I needed to go after my dreams … I just didn’t know it then, but he did. Mr. Zimmler lovingly, and with great thought, passed me on to my 7th grade teacher, Mrs. Rotholtz who, after actually sitting and reading the thick file that contained my own punishment essays (my feminist, freedom-loving banter with Mr. Zimmer had earned me the record for longest punishment essay ever assigned … 3,000 words), said to me, “Would I be right if I guessed that you want to be a writer? If so, we have lots of work to do.  You have talent galore, but you need discipline and focus.” With that she took me under her wing and introduced me to the likes of Edna St. Vincent Millay, F. Scott Fitzgerald, Ernest Hemingway and others. She never played the “you’ll never be able to support yourself writing” card as all the other adults did. She fed my dreams and my soul. Together, Mr. Zimmler and Mrs. Rotholtz not only gave me wings, they taught me how to fly.

Last week on August 30th, we noted the anniversaries of the passing of two of the greatest teachers of my adult life, Louise Hay and Wayne Dyer, who passed over on the same day three years apart. Together they helped me heal my life and gave me a new set of tools so that I could help others do the same. I am deeply grateful that I was gifted with not one, but two sets of teachers that helped me to grow as well as to thrive. We should all be so lucky.

So this week as I watch my little Xavier hop on that school bus with his new back pack and lunch box, I will wish him joy and excitement as he ventures forth on this new adventure. With luck, he will find a gift of his own in the one who will lead him.

This week over on the Home Page we will be talking about things we’ve learned growing up and the profound effect teachers have had on us. Let’s consider this a “what we did over the summer” kind of assignment! As always, have fun with it and remember to just keep writing.

Peace and blessings.

The Courage Of Our Convictions


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My very favorite move of all time is the 1983 smash hit “The Big Chill,” an entertaining and thought-provoking story staring an amazing ensemble of up and coming actors, many of who went on to very successful careers, names like Kevin Kline, Glen Close, Jeff Goldblum, JoBeth Williams, Tom Berenger, and others. The story line goes like this: a group of old college friends are brought together years later by the death of one of their own, a brilliant but troubled man who took his own life because he had lost the courage of his convictions. All of his hopes and dreams for changing the world for the better had simply vanished and he could not live in such a world. The group decides to spend the weekend together, not only to get caught up in each others’ lives, but to examine their own feelings about the dreams and convictions of their youth versus the reality of their lives as they played out. All but one of them put away their youthful notions about anti-war movements, saving the environment and the world, and, as one of them says, “grew up” – one a doctor, another a successful businessman, a woman who put marriage and family aside for money, power and position, an actor with his own popular TV show, another an ace newspaper reporter.  Yet the death of their friend has them re-examining the substance and meaning of their own lives. As Glen Close’s character, Sarah, puts it: “I’d hate to think it was all just a fad.”

Idealism is born in our youth when the world is new, we are feeling our own power for the first time, and we set out to change the world for the good of all. We join protests, create groups and political action committees, march with signs, attend sit-ins, and make our voices heard. We are, after all, the next generation, the one who will be calling the shots and we see things a whole lot differently than our parents’ generation. Then, eventually, for most of us, something happens. We graduate from school and are expected to “grow up and become responsible.” Sadly, most of us do. We come to a point where we do not see the changes happening the way we were sure they would, and we lose hope. Sure, it would be wonderful to go to another rally, or canvas a neighborhood for signatures on our petitions, but we’ve got to get a job, pay the rent, get medical insurance … and what about relationships? Marriage? Kids? Before we know it, we’re talking to financial planners about our retirement!

Idealism has to be nourished and nurtured. We lose it in the hunger for approval and belonging. We lose it in our fear of the future and need for security. We lose it when we hear the older generation tell us: “Get real. It just isn’t going to happen.” We lose hope. We may try to keep our hand in every time we step into a voting both, or refuse to support a specific business or product, or answer the door to sign yet another petition (carried by a younger version of ourselves), and by writing checks. Yet the real power we can yield as we get older isn’t necessarily in our ability to chuck our jobs and responsibilities and take it to the streets (although those of us who are retired are free to pull out our old tie-dyed shirts and do so). The power to stand in the courage of our convictions comes through the written and spoken word. We hold onto our idealism every time we refuse to remain silent, when we write that letter to our congressman, or senator, or mayor, or when we create a blog to express our views and hopes. We refuse to remain silent to the cries of the people and the needs of the world. We speak for those who can’t. There is no age limit on idealism, only a sad disbelief that the real world is the one where we give up, grow up, and shut up. But silence is not something our generation was good at 50 years ago, and that, my Third Agers, is the wisdom and the power we bring to this age. That, as we have come to learn over the years, is how to be the change we want to see in the world.

Our writing assignment on the Home Page for this week is going to ask you to put your idealism down on paper, to see what you think is worth fighting for, and how you can balance your life in such a way that you can live and still fight the good fight. I don’t know if asking you to have fun with this one is appropriate, but I will tell you that you will feel like a million bucks when you get done. Just remember, especially today, to always keep writing.

Peace and blessings.

Picture Perfect

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Yesterday my 11-year-old granddaughter, Gabby, helped me start on a project I have been putting off for years, namely hauling down and going through the hundreds of photos I had stuffed away in albums, envelopes, and storage bins. There it was, my life, those of my two daughters, my 5 grandchildren and now my great-grandson, all captured in pictures from tiny wallet size to 11 x 14 wall size. For several hours, my entire family history was sitting in piles all over my living room floor. Going through them one by one, I took an abbreviated trip through my entire 69 years on this planet. Turns out I was busier than I thought I’d been!

After about an hour or so of sorting and reviewing my life, I suddenly became overwhelmed by the task at hand. How could I possibly fit all of these photos neatly into albums? My grandson told me when he helped me move all this stuff into my new apartment to get with the 21st century and scan all the photos onto discs so I can keep them digitally, and for some of them that might work out well. The problem is that: 1. Some of the photos are very old and faded, and would probably not scan well, and, 2. I’d need a ton of discs to hold all of them. The next question I asked myself was this: “Do you really need each and every one of these pictures?” Let’s face it, how many photos of the kids at the pumpkin farm, that we visit every year do I need to keep? How many photos of kids opening Christmas presents? How many shots of autumn leaves, and oceans, and sunsets? And what would happen if I just pared them down to only those that told the story without all the repetition?

The problem, as I came to see it, was that getting rid of the photos felt like getting rid of the memories and I was downright afraid to do that. My father suffered from Alzheimer’s before he died, barely recognizing anyone at the end, and my Mom had her moments of dementia, although not as severe as my Dad’s, before she passed as well. Losing memories scares me to death. What if I didn’t remember my daughters’ births, birthdays and graduations, the births of my grandchildren, the names of my grandchildren? What if I forgot our trips to the pumpkin farm, or my first trip on a plane to visit a new friend in LA, or that awesome vacation to Asheville? What if I forgot my summers in Maine with my sister?

We can’t let our memories, or the fear of losing them, take over and stop us from living our authentic lives going forward. Sure, we want to capture the good times, let go of the bad ones, and cherish each and every moment of happiness, but not at the expense of the new moments waiting for us in the present and beyond. I truly believe that even if the mind forgets, the heart never does. I am constantly calling my granddaughters by their mothers’ names, or their sisters’ names, but my heart still knows they are my beloved grandkids. Heck, I even call my cats by the names of their dear, departed predecessors sometimes but none of that matters when they are curled up on my lap and looking up at me with unconditional love.

So I’ve decided to just keep a few photos of the pumpkin farm and give the rest out to the kids for their own memory albums. I’ll keep one school picture for each year, one or two of each wedding, one or two of each Christmas, and just the very best of the autumn leaves and sunsets. The rest I will pass around to the others. For some of my 21st century techies, I’ll bet holding an actual photo will be like a trip through the Smithsonian to them. It’s never too early to remind them where, and who, they came from.

This week over on the Home Page, our writing assignment will ask us to take our own trips down memory lane and paint a picture with words. As always, have loads of fun (and pleasant memories) with this one, and remember to just keep writing.

Peace and blessings.

Finding Your “Ikigai”

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I just finished reading a sweet little book called “Ikigai – The Japanese Secret to a Long and Happy Life.” In my continuing quest to find out how other countries and cultures are creating their authentic lives as they age, I have to say that this one certainly covered all of the bases that I personally believe lead us there.

So what is “Ikigai?” As the authors tells us:

“Having a strong sense of ikigai – the place where passion, mission, vocation, and profession intersect – means that each day is infused with meaning. It’s the reason we get up in the morning.”

The book covers all the different aspects that go into finding our ikigai and summarizes them all into these top 10 secrets to a long and happy life:

  1. Don’t retire – keep doing things of value, making a difference, helping others.
  2. Take it slow – ours is a “hurry up” culture. As the old saying goes: “Walk slowly and you’ll go far.” Life takes on new meaning when we stop to smell the roses.
  3. Don’t fill your stomach – this was an interesting one for me and definitely one for Westerners to take heed of. Japanese folks stop eating when they are 80% full, allowing their bodies to digest and nourish them more naturally and effectively.
  4. Surround yourself with good friends – I would have made this one at least #2 on my own Top Ten list. Friends are the best medicine – we need our playmates.
  5. Get in shape for your next birthday – commit to being a little bit better, a little bit stronger, and a little bit fitter as you move through life. Plus, exercise stimulates the hormones that make us feel happy.
  6. Smile – even when we don’t feel like it. You not only lift your own spirits, you lift the spirits of everyone you meet, even strangers passing on the street or in the grocery store (when I don’t feel like smiling, I call my 4-year-old great-grandson who always has something to say that changes my mood).
  7. Reconnect with nature – even if you live in the city, you can find a park or a piece of grass somewhere to sit or do some tree hugging. We come from nature and we need to return to it often to recharge our batteries.
  8. Give thanks – having an “attitude of gratitude” goes a long way. The more we are thankful for, the more we have to be thankful for.
  9. Live in the moment – the past is over and the future isn’t here yet. The only moment we have is now. Live it to the max.
  10. Follow you ikigai – whatever it is. Maybe it’s creative like painting or writing. Maybe it’s gardening. Maybe it’s volunteering for your church or some community need. If you don’t know what your ikigai is yet, then your mission is to find out what it is. Make finding your passion your ikigai.

By the way, the focus of this book was based on interviews with the older inhabitants of the island of Okinawa, in the village of Ogimi. It so happens that Okinawa ranked #1 on the list of Blue Zones, places where the number of folks 100 years old or older is the highest. There are 24.44 people over the age of 100 per 100,000 inhabitants there. Something tells me they might have something to teach all of us.

This week on the Home Page, our assignment is going to give us a chance to come up with our own ideas about living long and happy lives. I don’t have to tell you to have fun with this one – the fun is built into it. I will tell you, as always, to remember to just keep writing.

Peace and blessings.

The Gifts Of Invisibility

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As most folks know, I’m a huge Harry Potter fan. Even though I read all of the books as an adult, with each new chapter in Harry’s life I could feel how his story empowered kids reading it also to believe in themselves and the power we all have within to take a stand in the name of all that’s good.

One of the many gadgets and props from the story that I loved was the Invisibility Cloak. This allowed Harry and his friends to become invisible so that they could carry out their youthful investigations. At the time I first read it, some 20+ years ago (can you believe the books have been out that long?), I thought it would be neat to own one of those cloaks so that I could go about my business without being seen. How free I would feel not to have to pass inspection by the rest of the world for how I looked, how I acted, and what I was doing. Little did I know at the time that I would eventually reach the age where being invisible was one of the gifts we received along with grey hair and wrinkles.

Gifts, you say? Being treated as if we’re invisible once we reach “senior status” is a gift? You bet it is as long as we don’t get invisible mixed up with irrelevant. As I thought it would when I was envious of Harry and his cloak, being invisible does indeed free one from the worry of being judged on how you look and what you do. I can take a notebook and sit in the coffee shop at Barnes and Noble for hours watching people, creating stories about this person or that one, sharpening my character building skills for a future story or book without anyone even acknowledging my presence.  I can linger in stores and shops examining goods and reading labels without being approached by some overzealous salesperson. I can sit peacefully on a bench in a park or along the riverwalk and not be disturbed in my meditations. I have carte blanche to view the world in peace.

On the other hand, being treated as if we’re irrelevant is a completely different thing, and one of the cultural norms about aging in this country that needs to be shattered. There is a perfect example of this in a scene from the wonderfully funny and poignant Netflix series “Grace and Franky” starring Jane Fonda and Lily Tomlin. The two women are in a convenience store trying to buy a pack of cigarettes (they are planning an evening of debauchery and bad habits), but the convenience store clerk keeps ignoring them as if there weren’t there, giving all his attention to the pretty young girl who pushed ahead of them at the counter. Jane Fonda’s character starts yelling at the clerk about his treatment of them: “I AM NOT IRRELEVANT!” No, Jane, you’re not, and neither is anyone else over the age of 50 or 60. When the world starts to treat you like that, it’s time to rip off that invisibility cloak and make yourself heard.

The so-called “civilized countries” in western culture are the only ones who treat their older folks this way. In cultures much older than ours, elders are revered and cared for, the keepers of the history and wisdom of their people. Growing up in such a culture, they are also more likely to live longer, healthier and more productive lives than their western counterparts.

The authentic life that I am creating must include a commitment to the growth and evolution of new beliefs about aging. Ours is the largest growing demographic in the country, maybe even the world. That’s a lot of people power! Maybe it’s time we took off those cloaks and started waving our magic wands around. That’ll get their attention!

Over on the Home Page, our writing assignment is going to put a magic wand in your hand, a.k.a. a pen, to reveal your own experiences or grievances about the aging practices in our culture and how you want your wisdom years to look. As always, have lots of fun with this and remember to just keep writing.

Peace and blessings.

Just One More Book

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Never before in the history of the world have there been so many choices available to us to learn something new, from books, to seminars, webinars, podcasts, classes and, last but certainly not least, YouTube. You can go to school online, get a degree online, learn to fix your car, build a house, or rewire your computer. You can read all the how-to and self-help literature on the face of the planet, but at some point you have to stop reading and start doing.

I freely admit that I have spent the majority of my adult life “learning” how to write. From the time I was old enough to understand that there were not only great examples of good writing, but that there were also books on how to write, my library card became my best friend. As time went on, I traded my library card for classes, seminars, and progressed on up to Amazon, the holy temple of books. I had convinced myself that if I just read one more book, or took one more class, I would be able to write just as good as, if not better than, the pros. All I needed was that one more book.

It took a fractured hip and 8 weeks of what I came to call “house arrest,” aka “can’t leave the house until my doctor signed off on doing stairs,” to realize that no amount of reading was going to substitute for planting my butt in the chair and getting it done. One more book wasn’t going to boost my confidence any higher, nor would it give up the real, true secret to successful writing. Only actually writing would do that.

How often in our lives do we put off doing what we deeply and sincerely dream of doing because we doubt ourselves? We take out that cape of “not good enough” and wear it like a king’s robe. There’s nothing wrong with learning something new. I’d be lying if I said I was not an ardent supporter of life-long learning, but not if it keeps you from actually living. To this day, whenever something peaks my interest, I hop on Google and learn all I can about it. That’s how I came to learn all about cooking and eating a vegan diet. That’s how I learned how to set up a blog page. That’s how I found a neat pattern for a crocheted tote bag. The difference is that I didn’t just keep reading about these things. I did them. I cook vegan every day. I set up my blog pages. I crocheted the bag. I wrote, and I keep on writing, every day, even if it’s only for an hour. We do not only learn by studying, we learn by doing. The time always comes when you have to put down the book and start living.

This week for our assignment over on the Home Page, we will put a pen to paper (or fingers to keys), and talk about doing vs learning. This is an opportunity to take that leap of faith. As always, have loads of fun with this and remember to always, always, keep writing.

Peace and blessings.