I love my co-worker, Alison. She won't buy clothes that cost more than $9.99 and she says Target has the cheapest ice cream cone for 55 cents, but she bought a book at Marshall's for 12.99 and sends us quotes from it everyday.

THE TEST

I don’t feel any older yet,
But will one day, no doubt.

The sky is still a lovely blue,
The rose is just as sweet.
Each day is like another chance
To make my life complete.

Sure there’s hardship, sorrow and pain,
Who thought there wouldn’t be?
But now I know it’s just a test
To find the worth in me

By Betty Irean Loeb


Sweet huh?

Greetings from Tuscany

Buon giorno! My family and I are having a fabulous time eating our way across Italy. For the next few days we are taking in the sights and museums of Florence. I'm stunned by the rich, rich history of this country, but especially taken by the beauty of this region. We were last in Venice, and I had a little epiphany (it's my latest fad). I lost myself for a few minutes in a sidewalk artist's charcoal work. He was patiently working away, teasing chimneys and bricks and towers out of his little black stick, when suddenly I realized that he was surrounded by completed charcoals and painted canvasses. I though how bored he must be sometimes, just showing up and drawing. How monotonous to work and rework the same subjects. Then it hit me. That is true artistry: showing up. I reached a new resolve. I intend to keep showing up to do my craft, even if it is boring and monotonous at times. Hope all of you are well -- I'm off to fresh cappucino. Ciao!

Life is a jumble. I don't know why I have not figured it all out by now. How to plan my eating, how to schedule my days and weeks and months. I just wing my way through it all and get mixed results. Mixed results is a nice way of saying I fall on my face more often than not. Just when I think I am out of 'baby bird' mode, I gain another 3 pounds or I volunteer for something I have no time for and do a sloppy job. Flop, flop, flop. What I really want to say is, I am still trying to find time for writing. And, in true baby bird style, I still believe I will.

I have a conference call in 3 minutes, but I wanted to say 'hi' to you all. Welcome to Bubtrout and Frida. They are from '2006 and beyond' Nightwriters. We should probably email their true identities to everyone so more comfort for all and less mystery.

Eureka!

Hi all! This is my second attempt. Like Diane, I don't know where the first one went. But I did manage to sign on all by myself (after several aborted starts). Now the trick will be to see is I get this "entry" to publish and not evaporate.
I just want to thank you all again for your support. The workshop was FUN! What a relief! I still don't want to work at 'being a writer', though I'll never stop writing in a sense. Just don't want to play around with submitting to publishers again. Many years ago I received an ENGRAVED rejection slip from The Saturday Evening Post. My writing teacher at the time said that was very good -- just one step before being really considered. I added it to the pile of not-engraved ones I already had, and it took
years before I realized there were some other things I wanted to do with my time. My hat's off to you who are sticking to it.
BUT, being able to write to someone else's prompt, share, and receive friendly critiques, especially in such a wonderful setting, was delightful! Muchas gracias!
Barbara

Thoughts on Epiphanies

I've been slowly working my way through a little book written by Robert Ellsberg entitled The Saints' Guide to Happiness. It was recommended by Phyllis and Ragan, and, although I am neither Catholic, nor an evangelical Christian, my life principles come from the Christian tradition, and this collection of thoughts has been wonderful for stirring me spiritually. Today I read Ellsberg's reflections on the transfiguration of Christ. (For those of you unfamiliar with the story, it is from the Christian scriptures in the New Testament of the Bible. It can be found in either Matthew 17: 1-13, or Mark 9: 2-13.) Each time I read about a miraculous event, before I can accept that it holds any significance for me, I first have to get myself over caring whether or not it actually happened. If I spend too much time in the literal versus symbolic debate, the high-pitched squeal of the internal feedback loop nearly sends me into seizures, and I'm useless for the rest of the day. So my almost newly trained reflex is a default to symbolic. This detours me around the time-space-physics questions, and gets me to the heart of the story.

This story is about seeing beyond the moment, stepping outside daily humdrum, and catching a glimpse of the bigger picture -- experiencing what really matters. It sent me to thoughts and feelings I had the other day while reading an email from a friend in New York. We were trying to find a time to see each other for a few days this summer, and he attached a list of his professional engagements. It included words and phrases like: "Carnegie Hall", "National Symphony", "State Department Engagement", "Las Vegas", "Julliard", and "Queen Mary 2". All I could put on my list was: "Move kids into their apartments in August." I felt so mundane, so Plain Jane, so middle class.

Stay with me . . .

His email was my time on the mountain with Jesus. My friend's wonderful career, his success, his full and busy life, became my moment of enlightenment. My glimpse of Jesus, with Moses and Elijah standing alongside him, chatting about things that matter -- ethereal, eternal intangibles -- not wasting energy on the blase' tasks and urgent little grass fires that are always popping up, but concentrating on moving beyond, transcending life's trifles. Of course, it's ridiculous, even misguided to assume that meaning is only found in big accomplishments and mountaintop spiritual moments. In fact, the best stuff is often found in the little things. But I desire an openness to, and an awareness of significance when it presents itself in a situation. That's my goal: opening myself to meaningful moments. Stringing together epiphany upon epiphany, so that, eventually, it all matters. No wasted thought, no wasted action.

Hello all,
I'm reading the blog, but haven't been able to contribute. I'm having some kind of BR withdrawal or maybe its menopause. Upon my return home, I went immediately back to my routines of kids, work, tv. Writing just wasn't in there. I visited my Dad for a weekend and woke up wanting to write, so I did. How simple is that. It just isn't working in my own home. So I cry, because I want to be alone, but I love my family life. Its dumb really...I just need to change my routines. For now I feel stuck and blue and like a scratched dvd. (translate 'broken record'). This job I have has got to end. I just can't find the exit sign.

The Growing List

I love seeing new people in the list of members. How exciting to have a roomful of writers gathered in cyberspace. I can't get over how awesome -- wait, the new term is off the hook -- this Internet thing is for keeping people connected. Welcome, Phyllis and Ragan. Since returning from California, I've been reluctantly running at full speed. Besides the normal catch-up time required after being out of the office for a week, our son is graduating from high school this week, and I'm amazed at the number of piddly, time consuming tasks connected with the event. He and his sister are skydiving next week . . . my wife and I will watch the whole horrifying event from the ground. Then three days later, we leave for two weeks in Italy. I'm a wide-eyed Linda Blair, head spinning uncontrollably. No writing taking place, a little journaling, and some obsessive blog checking just to see if any of YOU are actually writing, but I'll be back in the groove eventually. I learned MUCH about the I-can-do-it factor while at Bishop's Ranch this year. No matter what I feel, despite my physical or emotional condition, I can produce something . . . something, it does not matter what. I just have to push something out. It's a valuable memory to carry around. Hope all of you are doing well.