Another day, another story!
And so it has begun. The road trip. The book tour. The seeing people on the road. If you follow me on Instagram or Facebook their are more photos than I can post here but I am moved by every single soul I meet along the way. That includes the strangers, the surprises.
I grabbed Little Miss Sunshine and hit the road. (She's pictured here at a writer's hideaway in Oxford, MS before my visit to Square Books. Can you tell she's smiling. Well, she is. ) For those who haven't followed years of road trips and book tours Sunshine is the name I gave to a carry-on bag I purchased years ago for a book tour. It was me going very against type because I normally wear black on black with a side of black. Carry a black bag. And a black suitcase. I was in a professional luggage years ago preparing for book tour and had decided I would invest in a piece of luggage that would survive the miles ahead of me. Something with those magical 360 wheels that glided and rolled and zippers that refused to be broken. A hard case worthy of a few hard miles. I was checking out with a black bag when I turned and looked up and saw this multi colored case on high display in the corner of the store. "Wait!" I said - "I think - I want to see that one." They took her down, I rolled her around. Contemplated color. That wild splash of color. And thought - yeah, she's going with me.
My journey with Little Miss Sunshine as I named her started and we went coast to coast to coast. Airline security smiled when they saw her coming. Passengers commented. Hotel clerks. She brought sunshine wherever she went. Eventually, the metal started sticking out of the edges of the handle, her paint peeled off. She got battered, worn, weary. Just like me. It took years but I finally put her in the back of the closet. Ordered a set of three white metal cases one Black Friday super sale on line. They arrived. I looked at them suspiciously. They didn't even blink at me. I thought - well, I'll just cover them with travel stickers. Places I've been and others I've longed to see. I took them on one trip to Residency. Crammed with too much stuff, too many books, things to stay warm. Their wheels drug a little bit. They didn't have the - dare I say it - magic of Little Miss Sunshine. And they didn't smile at me from the corner of a hotel room when I went to bed at night in a strange city miles from home. They. Did. Not. They also turned out to be the bane of my existence when I had to end up on a Greyhound Bus in between cities that was delayed for a day and that is another travel story entirely. One I've written but not published. You cannot spend days in a Greyhound Station or on the bus with three white suitcases, a laptop bag, and a purse. If only I had just little Miss Sunshine and My Backpack we would have been in fine shape.
BACK to - the moment at hand. It was time to hit the road for Confessions of a Christian Mystic Road trip. I pushed those white suitcases to the corner of the room, reached far back into the closet and drug out the battered, metal baring, paint peeling old friend. Little Miss Sunshine rides again.
THE MAGIC OF THE MOMENT
Amazing things happen on the road. Surprising things. People come into your life that you weren't expected. With it, they bring their stores. There is the conference of crossing lives that doesn't happen unless we are out on the road, out of comfort zones, our normal agenda's. It brings to mind so many stories after so many books and so many years. Taxi drivers in New York who told me stores about how they arrived, where they came from. About what they read to their children. Sherlock Holmes comes to Mind. A taxi driver told me of reading the series to his daughter when she was young and for the rest of their lives he called her Sherlock and she called him Watson. Those are the kinds of stories you pick up on the road. The power of real lives.
I stopped at a rest stop to use the rest-room and get right back on the road but when I was walking to my car an old man was standing outside is car, maybe he could have been my Daddy's age if he'd be living now. He had a metal arm, wore a cap that showed he was a Vet, been in the service, served maybe more than just a few years for certain. He still had that air of military on him. Of having served. And as I tried to walk right past him and hurry to the car my feet pulled up to a sudden stop. I mean, full on stop. I sort of just stood there looking at him and said So, how are you doing today? The sun was shining, the sky blue, the miles ahead of me piling up by the minute and me - as is my usual - already falling behind. Already with more to do than time and space allow. He was smoking a cigarette and paused and smiled, surprised. What I didn't say was thank you for your service. That might have been implied. He said, What brings you out on the road on a pretty day like today? So I told him. Book tour. Got a book. Doing a thing.
So you're a writer?
That I am, sir.
Is that a fact? My, my.
And then we talk a bit. He's waiting on his daughter. She just had a baby and they were coming back from Nashville headed home to Memphis. The baby had been premature he said. Not but a few pounds. But now - "He's all the way up to twelve pounds. Just had his checkup. He's doing fine."
So glad to hear it. I dug around in the car. Found my reading copy of Confessions. Signed it for him and passed it on. Then headed on down the road. Because. We have one life, our stories, this Divine moment of compassion and consideration and a moment, just a moment to reach each other. To whisper those words, All is well and all shall be well and all manner of thing shall be well.
And we are not alone.
Peace and love to you and yours. Me and Little Miss Sunshine got to get on down the road.
I've been doing stuff this morning. And trying not to post anything to facebook because I have numerous deadlines crashing around me today. BUT I woke up feeling just like I did last Monday except I wasn't as spry with the hope and making myself turn the boat of my emotions around. It was more like - God, I'm sorry but I'm depressed. Yes, I think maybe I'm a little depressed. Or maybe worried. Or maybe anxious. And then I thought of you guys because of all of your comments from LAST MONDAY and I thought - Maybe they feel that way, too. So, before I go off slaying the dragons of my deadlines I want you to know that I'm thinking of you. If you woke up with a little cloud hanging over your head your still not alone. The news of Paradise, California has been heartbreaking and soon the news will move on. Just as it has with my beloved Gulf Coast that still needs prayers, money, hands. Not a word in the media and still roofs are missing as it rains, people are homeless, nothing is normal. That enough gives me reason to be blue on this Monday but it's something more than that. It is a ball of mistakes that have rolled up in my front yard and are screaming at me in my sleep. It's been piling on for days. And no matter where I turn, no matter what I do right (and I do plenty right) it's not that voice that is the loudest. It's some ancient internal voice of judgement that has followed me around since I came out of the womb. It is not God's voice. This I do know. But this voice can be powerful in its condemnation. You should have turned left instead of right. You should have, you could have, you would have. If only you had done this or not done that. You've made a mess of everything. This is all your fault. All of it. What's interested me from the standpoint of being able to be intelligent enough (or maybe spiritual enough) to observe this voice is man, has it been piling it on lately. Every day bringing on a new mountain of mistakes and moments newly discovered or old and revisited added to the previous days list.
In J. Philip Newell's Celtic Benediction book of morning and evening prayers Monday looks like this - "In the turbulence of my own life and the unsettled waters of the world today let there be new birthings of your Spirit. IN the currents of my own heart and the upheavals of the world today let there be new birthings of your Spirit."
I reread those words a few times because the turbulence of my own life, the unsettled waters of both the world and my life all seemed very appropriate. That's what I felt and also like my mistakes were threaded into my bone and muscle and then hanging from my skin like odd ends of frayed thread for all the world to see.
My Monday. Your Monday. They may have some shared similarities or maybe you are skipping around singing, OH WHAT A BEAUTIFUL MORNING, OH WHAT A BEAUTIFUL DAY! If so God bless you and could you toss up a few notes for the rest of us that are struggling. Could you sing a verse for those of us who just can't sing this morning?
If you have been bombarded lately with feelings of - less than, not enough, too old, too over, too fat, too thin, too tired, too unkept, thin-skinned, wrong color, bad code, no clue. If every time you turn around you just knocked something over, broke somebody's something, tripped on your own tongue, made one more new mistake to add to the mountain that's seems to be crushing you. If you just realized someone just doesn't like you but you don't have a clue why, if you take horrible selfies and then erase them because they all look as old and tired as you feel. If you don't measure up to your own standards much less anyone else's and things don't seem to be getting better but honestly worse by the day and you think - ummm, this doesn't look good. And, then you go out into your day and you SMILE anyway and you like other peoples post and you try to do your job, be you, take care of others, drive another mile, do another thing, sell another widget, cast out another demon and get up and do it again - This prayer is for you.
A New Day
May the light of a new day unfold in your life beginning the moment you read and receive these words. May they begin in you a new work that opens your eyes to the glory of the truth of who you really are. May those old sins of youth or yesterday fall so quickly you are left astonished. May there be in you a smile that defies the gravity of your life situation. In the midst of your battle may you raise your head high, hold out for the strongest kind of magic, and believe with all your might not only in this unseen God but in the power that was gifted you at your birth. That with each continued breath that allows you to remain in this world you may reflect a holy habitation from deep within your soul. May you make eye contact with those around you today and when you do allow them to see the real majesty called - you. May you cling to knowledge that you are a fellow traveler on this journey and were not now or ever meant to be cast off and alone on this wild, ride that is your life. May this day bring with it the surprise of joy. And may that inner voice that declares you broken beyond repair submit to the silence of one final truth, in blessing and beauty you shall continue.
Wishing you an impossible, supernatural peace in the middle of this turbulent world.
It's wicked cold in north Tennessee. Fellow writer and Facebook friend Mandy Haynes has been enjoying it to the fullest. She posts the funniest little videos on Facebook walking with her dogs in the snow. So someone is enjoying this. I am not enjoying it. If it were snow at a normal temperature - Maybe. With fat flakes falling. And the lamp lights glowing. For a minute. The kind of large, flake, dry snow that found me curled up with a coffee and writing away at the outdoor covered cafe of Bent Street Deli in Taos, New Mexico. But this is Tennessee cold and it's the kind of freezing temperatures that make your arms fall off.
I posted a photo of Rescue Kevin on Facebook yesterday lying in the snow because he is Part PYR and has a double coat which amounts to TWO fur coats at all times. He does not prefer Summer. He does appreciate that he has a blanket with not one, but TWO HEATING PADS PLUGGED in for him to keep toasty when his toes begin to feel chilly. He likes being outside to guard the - no sheep here. Guess he likes guarding his heating pad. So unlike BIG Dog Titan who slept in whatever room I was in at the time, Kevin prefers to be outside. His greatest wish is that I would be happy sleeping on the porch with him. This is not going to happen. At least not in the Winter.
I am from the tribe of blue jeans on the beach, walking in the sand to the sound of the waves rolling in from the Gulf of Mexico, playing catch me if you can with the water as you walk along the shoreline. This results in the hem of jeans being wet unless you roll them to your knees. Back when we were in high school everyone wore bell-bottom. This was not an option. Bell-bottoms do not roll to the knees and stay there.
I have gotten a kick out of Mandy's post because she is downright giggly. I am downright grumpy. I grump from the woodpile to the fireplace. Yesterday when my sister drove to work it was 6 degrees. This is not fit for friend or foe, beast or man. Who lives this way? I just stare out the window and shiver. It is beautiful - I grant you that. But for me and my constitution meaning my blood and skin and so forth I need sunshine. I operate best at 75 and above. 75 and a breeze and I need a blue jean jacket. I am a Gulf Coast girl. An island girl. I am stuck on this hill in the snow. I haven't left home since I came back from Texas. The driveway (hahahaha) more appropriately, the road that leads to the house is steep. What passes for a driveway goes off the side of a hill. Kid you not. I might need to hire someone to place some really big rocks there or build a wall to catch the car. When it rains and snows and turns to ice it is a bit precarious. Then when you get past that there is THE REAL HILL that goes down, down, down around the curve and down.
Snowed in. This means I must write. Writing what you are thinking about is better than thinking about what you should be writing. This is the kind of thing that makes you crazy. I have been as surprised writing this top secret novel as I have any of them. I write a line and then something AMAZING happens - I write ANOTHER ONE. And another one. I made myself sign off facebook this morning, put myself into time out and wrote. I started to get up out of the chair after an hour. Or to peek at facebook. But then I saw that I had promised I was out writing till 12. This made me go back to writing. At 11 I tried to quit again. Nope. Made myself continue. I think the Facebook Timeout Writing program may be the best writing diet I could be on. I can't check on you or see your faces until I meet my word count. This is a great carrot for me. I may not appear to be the most facebook savvy or that I have commented on everyones everything but I am reading and keeping up.
On the Writing Front -
I am wrapping up the Mastermind Path writing group class this month and will miss it terribly. So I'm offering a continuation of the class beginning in February. Both via conference call which has proven an excellent choice for all. Please stay tuned if your interested.
I am an old Star Trek junkie. Some of my best good times were growing up and the fact that of all things my mother became a Star Trek watcher. We never missed an episode. The dawn of Star Trek The Next Generation brought a whole new world of watching. And, guess what? Guess who was watching it with me? My boys. Who grew up to be Star Trek guys. (And Yes, Star Wars too!) So EVERY Star Trek movie was a hit but in the midst of the busy life I did not watch the continuing saga of Star Trek or Deep Space Nine and so forth. HOWEVER- with the advent of Star Trek Discovery I was itching for a new Star Trek to beam me away. (Yes, I did sign up for that silly CBS streaming service just because of Star Trek) All I asked was for an hour of space talk beyond our Milky Way. In my book Discovery delivered. It took a few episodes to lay the ground work and introduce the characters and set up the storyline but then it did it. It's not your Mother's Trek. Or for that matter your Grandmothers. But they have in many ways boldly gone where no Trek has gone before. It's a whole new world. Snow day. That's how I spent one of them. Catching up on Star Trek.
Mama and Me
We are surviving. Up on this hill. In the snow. Carry in wood, prep the oil lamps, wait for the lights to go out because they always go out up here. We will have power outages for no reason at all. Much less snow storm or ice out. This time it went zap, zap, zap right in the middle of me streaming Star Trek on the big screen. So I went downstairs and lit candles and stoked the fire, helped Mom find pajamas and get into bed. Then I pitter-pattered back upstairs and opened my laptop and watched the rest of the episode curled under sixteen blankets. Deep space indeed. Downstairs in Mama world we watch Golden Girls on that TV and Grantchester (which is on break perhaps forever because the star has become all kinds of popular and may be the next James Bond) and Antique Roadshow. When someone says Oh, I bought this record for a quarter at a yardsale and then Elvis's birth certificate just fell out of it when I got it home and it is worth a quarter million dollars and I look at Mama and ask her, 'What are the chances that we would ever?" She tells me in negative numbers. We are not those lucky people and we will never buy anything that is worth a secret fortune. Then I found her with a table turned upside down on her bed trying to see if it had a 'mark' or a signature. It did not. We both got a good laugh. We still have not hit it rich from Antique Roadshow but we've had a few great conversations about junk we could drag in for assessment.
I have dreams of inviting the Property Brothers to my house for that whole magical remodel thing that they do. Then I have visions of them going hahahahaha. This is one where we see taking it down to the bones. And by bones we mean the ones in the ground.
We are here and out of the cold for the most part. The house does 'breathe' a lot but still we can get cozy. LAYERS as the crazy Winter people say. LAYERS and they skip around while they say it. I feel like that bloated tire man creature that cannot walk with all these layers. BUT - I have Greek style chicken and potatoes in the oven. There's a fire in the fireplace and surely, there's a new episode of Golden Girls recorded. That beautiful white view out the window is melting and the temps will rise to something that allows me to move around outside without crying. Spring is just around the corner. And so is the day I will reach THE END on the new novel.
Peace to you and all your world.
Thanks so much for reading, liking and sharing with friends.