Posted in 60 Minutes Life, Anxiety, Anxiety & Depression, Art of LIving, Buddhist Writers, Canadian Writers, Creative Writing, Healthy Living, Joyful Living, Less Than Five Minutes to Read, Life, Life Lessons, Lifestyle, Living, Midlife, Mindful Living, Personal Development, Reading, Simple Living, Social Anxiety, The Art of Living, Uncategorized, Whole Living, Writers, Writing, Writing Inspiration

Book Anxiety – It’s a Thing

bookofjoyUnless you’re suffering from the worst case of Montezuma’s revenge, coming home from a holiday mostly always sucks.

Besides going back to w-o-r-k, there’s the unpacking, and answering emails, and getting back to all the shit you wanted a rest from in the first place. Responsibility is overrated.

On top of my already raging general anxiety about everything, I now have book anxiety. Wonderful.

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This time I thought I was smart. I prepared for the back-to-work crash. Prior to leaving for my holiday I purchased a brand-spanking-new book and placed it next to my bedside. Ah, yes, a little escapism.

However, while in Ireland and France, I loaded up on…yah, you got it – books.

You’ve heard people use the saying, “My eyes are bigger than my stomach.” If you haven’t, I’m not sure where you hang out.

There has also got to be a saying for bookworms who indulge in purchasing books but have tiny amounts of time in which  to consume them.

I am guilty of disobeying my doctor’s orders and having a decluttered bedside. It is cluttered with books and magazines and more books. So many books and such little time…

Since the grand unpack, I have added;

Book of Kells by Bernard Meehan

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Sylvia Beach and the Lost Generation,

 

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Stamped with the precious Shakespeare & Co ink, I might add! So very exciting for a bookworm! Eeek!

Imaginary Journey by Elvire De Brissac

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These have all been added to my bedside pile which already includes a Historical Herbal Medicinal Guide, two books by Caroline Myss, a Kurt Vonnegut novel, a trashy romance, and a book of Irish fairytales all on a lovely bed  of seasonal magazines.

I’m also on the cusp of losing my e-copy of The Book of Joy that I borrowed to read on the airplane.

Oh, the stress! The incredible stress of being a bookish woman!

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Raising the Veil: When You Meet Her Again

veiled womanI am nothing if not a sensual woman.

I love to taste, touch, smell and enjoy what life has to offer. I like to let the beauty of art, food, sex and the great outdoors seep deep into my bones like water finds the most tiny of cracks and flows inward. A beautiful soul is the reflection of this sensuality, and I want to be effing gorgeous well into my senior years.

But I need to remember that, and honour it.

It’s pretty much mid-August, and we are in the true dog-days of summer. It’s that time of year when you hear so many people saying, “Where did the summer go?”

This will be followed in the fall with the same question about the whole of 2018.  If you’re not careful, this will become the melody of your life-song. A recurring durge of regret.

At the beginning of this year, I made some resolutions for myself, and I’ve ticked off every single box. Since then, some other issues have come to my attention that I need to nurture and breathe life back into.

Friendships of all shapes and sizes come to mind. Friendships, I truly believe, are the living breathing entities that keep us thriving. We should all have hobbies and passions and interests, but for me, it is the company we keep while enjoying these things that makes them memorable and meaningful.

So many women blame their families for taking away their joy, using up their time, and basically social norms and expectations of the female role for hypnotizing them into some kind of being who forgets how to experience joy and ecstasy.

I want to propose a different perspective.

It is only now, a year after my child first moved out, that I am coming to realize how trapped I was in my own mind. How I simply became attached to all that I thought I was supposed to be doing. Days, weeks and months were swallowed up tidying other peoples messes and making sure that there wasn’t a crumb on the counter. It’s like ripping off a bandage when you give in to your own pursuits and desires.

It may feel frightening to acknowledge the creative, sensual woman you have hidden behind a veil all of these years.

When you finally reveal her to yourself, you won’t be able to stop from taking her in the joyful embrace of reunion. You will feast, and you will experience the entire world again with a fresh perspective. Fear will sulk out the door and take a nap so that the wild joy of your passion can dance.

Posted in Canadian Writers, Creative Life, Creative Writing, Creativity, Novelists, Novels, Travel Writing, Uncategorized, Writing, Writing Inspiration, writing prompts

Writing Prompts: What I Go To

pickyFor a quick insight into my own process when the fire has died, I offer you this;

  1. The newspaper. Yes. Paper. Go buy a print copy and flip to the editorials and opinion sections. Browse the arts and see what other fearless creatives are doing. Write about your thoughts.
  2. Daily meditation. I used Goddess 365. Sometimes I’m faithful, and other times she waits a week or two before I give her any attention. Ah, but she is faithful and patient. Read, give some kind of offering even if it’s a silent tribute of gratitude or visualization. If you need altar supplies, I suggest Wonderworks.
  3. An oldie, but a goodie, especially for sensual writer-types; Fruit Flesh

Don’t forget to carry a notebook. Take yourself for a walk without being plugged in to a playlist or a podcast. Let your mind relax and wander all on its own. But most importantly, put pen to paper. Doodle at first if you must, but don’t give up.

Posted in Art, Art of LIving, Canadian Writers, NaNoWriMo, Novelists, Uncategorized, Writers, Writing, Writing Inspiration, writing prompts

Writer’s Block:When The Characters Hide

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Is it just me or has the world gone mad? Seriously, our politics has become our entertainment, and our entertainers have become politicians. Sadly, this little role-playing swap has left us without leaders, and a lot of Instagram-twitter-social-media-armchair activists.

I find myself wishing that I could write something as completely insane as our political stage, and the characters of the day.

It’s a rare morning here. I got to sleep in. The kind of sleeping in that I enjoy most; no rush, writing and a long walk in the sun the only things on my list before I head out on a road trip to see my kiddo, my mumster, and listen to an inspiring woman lecture about fearless business strategy.

But let’s get back to the sleeping in. My favourite part of sleeping in is the sensuality of waking; the comforting weight of my duvet, warm against my back, the cool sheet against my foot, letting it slide  out from under the covers, the sun streaming through the window, and just as wonderful, the memories I choose to call to mind (thank you gentlemen)…ah-hem

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And then there’s the writing.  When I finally manage to pull myself away from the indulgence of my cloud-bed, the first stop is the kitchen, where I habitually turn on CBC radio, and fill the kettle and putter while the water heats.  Back to our circus of

politicians, the terrible state of the world and my partner shouting my to-do list from where he’s putting the final touches on his scramble out the door. He already knows I’m not in the mood to take on someone else’s priorities, so eventually he stops yammering, races by, gives me a kiss and leaves.

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With my hot tea, and the late winter sun shining down on me at my writing desk, I wonder how I lost my stride. Where did my characters hide? Those wonderfully complex people who came alive for a hundred pages or so seem to have disappeared when domesticity and my ‘real job’ wore me down.

Maybe if I tempt them, they will come back and speak to me again; A few lines of inspired poetry,  my go-to writing prompts, a new muse, some quiet time in the tropics….

 

 

 

 

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The Season of Mystery & Light

street lampI’m early, I know.

Advent is not officially upon us, but the shitty greyness of November sure is.

We are smack in the middle of the time of year when everything is bare, grey, and tired.

Not quite officially Advent, the season of mystery, of waiting, of germinating in the darkness so that we may blossom in the light is definitely upon us.

What better way to embrace it all than to try some new stuff?

This year, it’s all new to me; my home, my relationship status, and most significantly, my role as a mother.  Whatever you call your celebration of light in the darkness that you celebrate, the reality is November is often a month of feeling less than sparkly.

As always, I’m embracing it. All of it.  Well, at least I’m trying to. Trying ‘new stuff’ may help ease the doldrums, but is it the solution? I’m not so sure about that.

Being able to be still in the darkness takes incredible strength of mind and spirit. Allowing yourself to feel it deeply without running from the discomfort may be the secret to rising into the light refreshed and enriched. It may also send you to the psych-ward for a few weeks. Chacun son gout.

I try to remember the significance of the tiny lights twinkling in the cold and the darkness. They are the symbols of hope when we are not sure of our place and where we belong, and sometimes that’s all we have.

 

Posted in Advice for Writers, andshelaughs writing, Art of LIving, Buddhist Writers, Canada, Canadian Culture, Canadian Poets, Canadian Writers, Creative Life, Creative Writing, Fearless Living, Graceful Living, Gracious Living, Joyful Living, Life, Life at Starbucks, Life Lessons, Life With Cats, Living, Meaning of Life, Mindful Living, Novels, Professional Writers, Simple Living, Spiritual Living, Starbucks Canada, The Art of Living, Toronto Life, Travel Writers, Travel Writing, Uncategorized, Whole Living, Writers, Writing, Writing Inspiration, writing prompts

NaNoWriMo – My First Time

writersclockI’ve been writing, and chiding myself for not writing enough for what seems like a life time.

Often my blogs are a ritual of sorts before I get down to the real business of writing my novel.

My poor novel.

It’s been neglected for a couple of years now, and it’s time I either gave it wings, or set it free to find someone else to write the story. I am a believer in the vision of creativity that Elizabeth Gilbert explains in Big Magic ; Either use it or lose it, and I’m on the very precipice of losing it.

Already there is a movie in the theatres called, Mother. That’s the main character of my novel, and just a couple weeks ago I met a dog named Clover…another character in my novel.

The universe is sending me signs that it’s time to write or drop my pen. So, I’ve decided I must make a serious commitment to my writing.

This is the year I commit to NaNoWriMo. This is the year the rest of the things that tug on my shirt tails for attention get a swat.  This is the year that I re-establish myself as a regular at a local coffee shop and get lost in my own little world of characters and creativity.

…and all that I can think is…YAY!!!

Posted in Advice for Writers, andshelaughs writing, Art, Artists, Canadian Writers, Creative Life, Creative Writing, Creativity, Poetry, Poets, Professional Writers, The Art of STorytelling, Travel Writers, Uncategorized, Witches, Writers, Writing, Writing Inspiration, writing prompts

Sneak Peek

peeping tomYou’ve been asking about what my next novel is about. Here’s a little sneak peek;

How do your write about magic when the protagonist doesn’t know anything about it herself?

Well, you just write. You dream it up, because nothing has to make sense. Sense is over-rated and we often forget that.

Sometimes the best existence is just feeling; living in the moment as a big, fat, YES!

Sometimes witches don’t wear black velvet dresses or have long, black hair. No. Sometimes they wear jeans from the church rummage sale and men’s white undershirts.