“I Quit!”

Hi. I’m Death and well, I quit.

Those words start Kathryn’s novel, which is called Deathlist and will be published early in 2022. How do I know? Because I’m your female protagonist. It’s my story, but it’s also your story. You. Yes. You. Everyone on the earth will be a part of this story. And some of the crazies I hang out with will be in it, too. Of course.

God plays a key role, as you’d expect, and so do Jesus and the Holy Spirit. But we will all have a run-in with the ol’ devil and well, human beings will put up with some pretty hard stuff as the story unfolds. And me? I’m going to give up my good looks, my designer wardrobe, and a perfectly lovely life in Heaven to save humankind.

“Wait! Why are you quitting, Death?”

You’re saying that to me, right? OR at least you’re thinking it. But you might also be thinking if I quit, if Death quits, you won’t die. Sorry, but It doesn’t quite work that way. And in the meantime, I’ll let you think about this:

WHAT IF YOU KNEW WHEN YOU WERE GOING TO DIE?

That, dear friend, is the gift of the Deathlist. Because in the novel, you will find out that the Deathlist lets you know that. You can make travel plans, decide if you want to take a job or not, stay single or get married. All sorts of stuff. Write the novel, create a cool new invention, or whatever, because you will know exactly how much time you have! Cool, right?

No?

That’s the thing some people like the idea. Some don’t. Anyway, I have to decide if I want to help God or not. And to do that, I have to become human, which means I can’t wear my gorgeous clothes anymore, or change into a blond or a brunette in the blink of an eye. AND… I have to defeat the devil. As a human!

I’m getting ahead of myself. I’d love for you to read Kathryn’s book. Stay tuned here. We’ll be giving you updates as launch day draws nearer and nearer. In the meantime, think about if you’d like to know when you’re going to die. I can’t tell you, by the way. You’ll have to find it yourself. And you do not have to know, by the way. It’s your choice. You have FREE WILL. We all do. Even me.

I gotta run. I can’t be late to collect souls. It’s all planned, you know. The day you’re born and the day you will die are in the database called the Deathlist.

What if Death Quit Her Job?

Would we rejoice?

Maybe. But what about her?

Death has had nothing but sadness in her day job. No one likes her. No one wants to see her coming. She clearly does not enjoy her work. Who would? Coming to work is depressing. “Hello, Mrs. Jones. I’m going to take your soul today.” And guess what? She has very few (no) friends.

And you thought you had a bad job.

Somewhere along the way, Death ended up collecting souls as part of the team in Heaven. Eventually she finds out why. And that’s not to say everyone goes to heaven after they die. No. That’s not it. And that’s not Death’s job, you see. She just makes the rounds according to the schedule and collects the souls so the other departments can get them to the correct eternity. You know. If you sin too much, you go to Hell. If you’ve accumulated enough brownie points, as it were, you get to spend eternity in Heaven. Everything is free there. Free health club memberships, country club passes, zoos, museums…It’s all free. It’s fun in the beginning but well. Everything gets boring after a while. Even Perfection. And free booze.

Back to Death. She definitely wins top prize for “sucky job” and to offset her terrible work life, she buys beautiful clothes. Her retail therapy outings have earned her the nickname Coco for Coco Chanel, her favorite designer. But she can wear Vera Wang, too. Betsey Johnson, Calvin Klein. It doesn’t matter as along as it’s expensive and gorgeous. But Chanel is her bestie.

When our story opens, Death quits. Yup. Finally, she’s had it up to here. The cruise ships are the absolute worst. Bodies and their attached souls float around in the ocean shivering their lips off, and Death has to handle each person. Some are still alive, and in every manner of scared to death. And then Death comes by. Imagine. Cold. Wet. Make it freezing, soaked. Almost drowning or recently drowned. (What a crappy way to go!) “It’s okay, Mr. Smith. I’m here to help you pass peacefully.” BAM. Mr. Smith bops Death in the jaw. “Oh, no you don’t!” The arguments over the years would make your hair hurt. Seriously. Death has heard them all. But now, she’s decided to quit.

And it’s not pretty. You can read all about it in my book, Deathlist, coming to a bookstore near you. There’s a lot more to it than Coco Chanel and Death, however. I’d hang on to your bucket seats. It’s quite a ride. Funny. Philosophical. Profane. Good and evil. Life’s purpose. High concept stuff wrapped around a book in which God plays too much golf, and the Holy Spirit is almost as much a clothes horse as Death. And there are epic battles afoot, Stay tuned for more posts about this crazy novel. Until then, I’m thinking we want Death to keep her job. Just sayin’.

Once Upon a Time …

Who can resist?

You’re already leaning in, wondering what will unfold. Who’s doing what? Where are we? What’s going to go wrong? SOMETHING has to go wrong! Who’s the main character? Who’s their buddy? Who’s the villain? Are they the same character and the hero doesn’t know it?

What is the main character trying to do? How are they going to get what they want?

Do they want a boyfriend? A girlfriend? A dog? A bazillion dollars? Do they just want their mom and dad to be happy? Do they want to not die? Or, do they want to travel to Europe or get a new job? Doesn’t matter. They have to want something. Goldilocks just wanted to take a walk. Then she was tired, hungry, and sleepy. And pretty finicky. Many interpretations and versions of the story exist, but people do things for a reason. So do characters in a book. And people living their lives.

“Once upon a time, in a land far, far away…” begins the Star Wars meg-hit that has spawned a gazillion dollars in revenue and a gazillion fans. Star Wars is almost a perfect representation of Joseph Conrad’s Hero’s Journey that pulls us in. Every time!

Joseph Conrad’s Hero’s Journey.
Thanks to https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hero%27s_journey

Our lives are “hero’s journeys.” We are born, and then we get called to the adventure of our lives. What happens every single day is a mini hero’s journey. It’s hard to think of your life like Star Wars, but maybe you’re Luke Skywalker today. You’re having breakfast, cereal, like every morning, when you see a car accident outside your apartment. You dash outside to see if someone is hurt. The person in the bashed up car is your friend. Your schoolteacher. Your future spouse. A drug dealer. Dead.

You call 911. The lines are busy. BUSY!? The person who caused the accident starts to run away. You’re… an off duty cop. A martial arts teacher. A Longshoreman. In a wheelchair.

Other neighbors look out their windows, but no one comes out. It’s just you and the person bleeding out on the ground. You’re in a weekend school studying to be a nurse. You have had one class in CPR. Your dog has come out the front door and is running loose without a leash. He might get hit! The person on the ground moans. Your dog causes an oncoming car to swerve and hit the telephone pole across the street from where you’re bending over the bleeding body.

What do you do? What happens next? Yes, and then what? Are you in the future? The past? Is this character you? Or if you make it the older you or someone else, it’s a different story. A different kind of car. An alternate universe?A parallel universe? Is it a car or is it a horse and buggy? A hovercraft?

WHAT’S THE POINT? We. Are. All. Stories. Once upon a time…we were born. Once upon a time… we will die. As they say, what happens in between is the story that sits on the little dash between the two dates on our tombstones.

Make yours a good story!! We want to read it.

If you would like to read more of my story, come back here, and sift through my posts at right. And I’ll visit your life’s story.

Not too cold. Not too hot. Just right.

Image compliments of Pexel’s free images.

AWE

A few creative friends and I were chatting about the need for curiosity as we approach our art. Curiosity seems built into babies, and growing invites them to test everything. At some critical point, they discover their feet and stick them in their mouths, like everything else. Nothing better than to see that moment of DELIGHT and AWE when a baby “groks” that their feet are attached to them! And they can put their feet into their mouth (love that flexibility!) any old time they want.

When do we lose our sense of AWE as adults? Is it when we can’t put our metaphorical feet in our mouths (except when we do so in error)? Is flexibility a clue? Not physical, but mental. How do we tap into AWE? Where is the door to enter that AWE room? Is it locked, or just stuck?

“To be more childlike, you don’t have to give up being an adult. The fully integrated person is capable of being both an adult and a child simultaneously. Recapture the childlike feelings of wide-eyed excitement, spontaneous appreciation, cutting loose, and being full of awe and wonder at this magnificent universe.” ~ WAYNE DYER

I love Wayne Dyer stuff. I miss him. He captures in that quote what I was trying to say, only better. Lots better.

I am continually in awe of the universe and its gifts. I try to stay in awe of the world around me by pressing to learn more every day. It’s counterintuitive, but the less you know, the more you can be in awe. As in,

Heck, I didn’t know about that!! HOW COOL!

That’s awe for me if I can stop long enough to settle and be still in the feeling before rushing to the next ‘thang’ on the to-do list. That means that awe has an element of mindfulness, being quietly present, and feeling joy in each living moment.

I am going to try to have an awe-filled, childlike day.

Photo compliments of Pixabay.

The Imposter Syndrome

The Creativity Clubhouse meeting this morning was SRO. Hah. Well. Almost. Please join us… Every Wednesday morning, 10:00 Eastern.

For me, there were so many takehomes. We talked about the labels around Imposter Syndrome. Insecurity. Good enough. Much of IS circles around comparison. We compare ourselves to others when we would be better served as creatives if we trusted ourselves to be capable. WHOA!

Many visitors chimed in, nervously and for the first time, voices quavering with emotion (!) to share their journey, to overcome despair, and to do their work. More words:

• Perseverance
• Creating Space
• Courageous
• Deadlines
• Leaving a legacy

I want to talk about one person’s share in particular. It was about the intersection of science and creativity. Here’s why I think that’s not a disconnect. In the “scientific method,” the goal is to experiment. Make something. Test it. See if it works. Repeat. (In so many words.) Creativity is the same. Make, test, see if it “works.” But then, who does it need to work for? And what is it really for in the first place? Science is easier to measure, which somehow gives it “worth” in the marketplace. More so if it actually does work. On the other hand, the arts are not so easy to measure. And as we discussed today, monetizing our art puts the whole “freaking” thing in the hands of the gatekeepers. And therein lies the rub.

The Imposter Syndrome feeds off those niggly gatekeepers, who may or may not have any idea what they’re talking about. OR, those gatekeepers are not in your tribe. Find a different set of them, or negate them and publish (put your stuff out) on the streets, in the alleys, byways, and highways so your tribe can find you.

One of our clubhouse participants said how important it is to be original. Different. Amen.

“Be yourself. Everyone else is already taken.” ~ Oscar Wilde.

If time, check this out!
“Make Good Art.” – Neil Gaiman

Did I Remember?

Did I remember to bring . . .

the itinerary?

the luggage?

the tickets?

the kids?

Was I supposed to?

Did I remember to turn off . . .

the coffee pot?

the car?

the water in the bathroom?

the stove?

Oh, shit!

Did I remember to collect . . .

my purse?

my wallet?

my shoes?

my happiness?

Are they connected?

Did I remember to call  . . .

the doctor?

the sitter?

my husband?

the kids?

my mom?

my friends?

Were they expecting me to?

Did I remember to  . . .

be present?

breathe?

practice?

Think?

It’s hard to remember . . .

Anything.

These.

Days.

Sigh.

Moderation

“Nobody does moderation well.”

–Greg McKeown (@GregoryMcKeown) author of “Essentialism, the Disciplined Pursuit of Less”

CHERRY PIE by Werner22brigitte at Pixabay

1. When moderation doesn’t work.

Author, speaker Greg McKeown revealed during a Tim Ferriss Show that he gave up sugar for a year. It was reportedly easier than cutting back, a.k.a. moderation.

The folks at Alcoholics Anonymous know moderation doesn’t work. An alcoholic cannot ‘pick up.’ Not even once, or they’re back to day one. A newcomer. AA has been around since 1935 and it has worked for a lot of people.

2. Moderation takes discipline.

Seems crazy in a way, but sometimes it’s easier to never start than it is to start and stop. One bite of that cherry pie leads to two. Then, “Ah heck. I’ll just finish the whole piece and start on my diet tomorrow.”

3. Moderation leads to decision fatigue.

We have a big toe in the water, but we haven’t moved to the immersion stage. We’re on the fence. It’s a kind of decision fatigue that author Gretchen Rubin discusses in her book “Better Than Before.” We can’t move forward or backward because we have not made up our minds. I’m tired just thinking about it.

4. Moderation undermines good habits.

Abstinence sounds monkish, but if it invokes a good habit, it’s freeing. Habit-supported abstinence eliminates temptation and saves the right kind of energy for more creative endeavors.

Lastly, we cannot forget this quote:

5. “Everything in moderation, including moderation.” ~ Oscar Wilde

Boarding Pass

Photo by Magda Ehlers on Pexels.com

The top portion of the faded boarding pass peeked out from the old book. Curious, I pulled the novel from the shelf. I could just make out the destination on the boarding pass. Salt Lake City. No date. No context. I did not remember the trip at all. In fact, it may not have been my boarding pass. No name. And yet,

the cosmic sense of those words— Boarding Pass—gave me pause.

And here we are. Sometimes we need to give ourselves permission to board whatever will take us away from our world. It sounds easy. But it’s not nearly as simple as buying a ticket, getting the boarding pass, and flying away. In fact, the idea of escape is often clouded with the means that we use to achieve it. Drugs, alcohol, habit, denial, excuses, and tickets to faraway places, of course. We keep ourselves in a tethered state as if our feet had grown cement bricks around them, or our elephant selves had learned to define the total of our available space by a tiny string attached to a six-inch stake in the ground. Because someone trained us to be ‘this’ or do ‘that’ or toe some line, real or imagined.

But wait.

We hold the boarding pass. We are here at the gate. We are in line. We are due on the airplane in a moment, any moment. We can see the aircraft waiting. The pilot is in his place. The flight attendants are standing by. We are clutching the means by which we can do this thing. We need not look back. There is no line behind us. The past is gone. Forever. We see the future stretching before us. We simply have to hand the boarding pass to someone, maybe it’s a higher power, call her God. Or Buddha. Or the Universe. Or whatever. Let it go.

We step across the little gap, or maybe it’s a big gap,  and we climb aboard our purpose. We need to let go of the fear of being wrong, failing, or worst of all, choosing incorrectly. The Boarding Pass is just a piece of paper. It’s a little like Dumbo’s feather. He didn’t need the feather to fly. We don’t need boarding passes to change. We just need to be brave. We need to believe in ourselves. And in the Universe.

Just. Like. Dumbo.

 

 

 

Possibility

I stand at the edge of possibility. It takes my breath away.

Every single moment of every single day, we can choose to be the person we were meant to be. I think it’s simple. Mostly, we have to get out of our own way.

I’m reading The Art of Possibility for the third time. I am convinced that we must commit to being open to the universe, as the authors Rosamund Stone Zander and Benjamin Zander state. We have to be prepared to receive; able to live in the present; willing to slide through our mistakes on our way to a hope (but not a guarantee) of perfection because we are one of the lucky ones that get to do our life’s work.

I love the idea of a happiness that we can obtain by the way we approach our days. Here’s a great suggestion from the book. Rule No. 6 says,

“Don’t take yourself so seriously.”

What a great concept. Yes, but how do I slow down enough to inhale possibility on the days when I am just not feeling it? I can always start by counting my blessings. I have lots.

Then I will close my eyes and imagine myself on the boat pictured below. It’s always there: Possibility.

Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

 

Leave Room in Your Suitcase

Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

So, did you think this post was going to be about travel? Great. It is. But, it’s not.

Hopefully, we are all going somewhere. However, we are not always going on vacation. Or going out of town. Or going on a safari, per se. We are, however, traveling through life. We need to have our suitcase packed, our selves ready, open, and available to step, fly, jump, and fall forward into the next place. Our metaphorical bags should always be packed, as in why slow down to throw in a toothbrush when the next adventure may have toothbrushes waiting for you at the other end? Or better yet, we won’t need toothbrushes there at all. Our teeth will automatically be cleaned by busy nanobots grinning as they scrub, singing happy tunes, and making you happy to boot.

So while the suitcase should be ready to go, it should have room to add stuff. We want to leave space in the suitcase of our minds to put in cool new ideas, experience an image in a way we’ve never done so before, or taste a new aroma, or savor a different apple with a cool name like “Jazz” or “Envy.”

We save a spot for experimentation.  We can pause in the quietness to read an author we wouldn’t have tried without the clarity that white space in a suitcase brings. We can “hear” a not-my-usual color; “wear” a not-my-kind of music. (Not typos: Hear a color and wear music were on purpose.)

I invite you on your next journey to leave room in your suitcase. In fact, I will leave room in mine, too, and maybe we can meet in the middle.

 Always keep a bag packed!