A New Year, a new you

Throughout the year, amidst the myriad of challenges, we anticipate the winter holidays, and then before we know it, they’re over, leaving us to marvel at where the time went.  And with a whoosh, in rushes the new year.  We determine to make resolutions; promises to ourselves.  Be a better person.  To love others more deeply.  Work harder.  Learn a new skill which you have been itching to do your whole life.  Lose weight.  Work out more, or even to begin a exercise regiment.  We seek ways for self-improvement.  Some we wind up sticking with while others are quickly tossed to the side.

Gazing into a mirror, we try to summarize the events of the recent past.  What we did wrong.  What we did right.  Those we may have inadvertently offended.  Those we may have encouraged along the way.  We are filled with hopes and fears of what the new year may throw at us; either a raining down of blessings or a crashing head-long into heartache.

Nobody, we understand, can accurately see into the future, though there are a few that insist they can.  If it were possible to project ourselves to December 31, 2015, what would we encounter?  Would we discover a life that had been more fruitful, or one that was awash with pain?

I, for one, do not wish to see what the future holds for me, for we know that our lives are filled with hope-filled moments and shattered dreams, triumphs and disappointments.  What type of person you are determines how well you deal with these issues, when life turns itself upside down.  It’s easy to be joyful and happy when life is at it’s best, but when life bombards you with painful moments when we least expect them, it is almost impossible to keep smiling through the tears.

I believe we need to embrace the beauty that surrounds us.  We need to forgive others for the wounds they have caused us.  Not only does forgiveness fill us with peace of mind, it protects our sanity as well.  And holding grudges is bad for your health, or so I’ve read.  It is cancer to your soul.

So in this coming new year, I implore you to take time to enjoy the little things in life we often take for granted:  watching the sun rise, hiking through a blooming meadow bursting with color, to immerse yourself in a good book, drink a glass of fine wine, bask in the warmth of a sunny July day, or just spending quality time with those you hold dearest.

Don’t lose sleep over the things we can’t change, or worry about things that will most likely not happen.  I am guilty of that myself.  Give up bad habits and embrace healthier ones.  Even small changes like going for a daily walk can do wonders for the body, not to mention the soul.

Here’s wishing you all, my friends, a very healthy, safe, and joy-filled New Year.  In addition, may it be filled with good memories, an abundance of love, and peace; and may sorrows be subtracted.  Blessings.


A Writer’s Life in the Open

Sometimes I’d like to retreat into a shell, to be that boring, unintimidating person in the corner.  No one bothers to come near.  No one questions my intentions.  I like to see myself as bland, but deep down I know that’s not the truth.

I struggle to keep myself underwraps.  Not that I’m a dangerous person; or in any way a danger to society.  No.  It is my thoughts that I try to hide from others.  I’m afraid that others may find me a bit “off”.

I can’t write happy, frilly tales of kittens, and apple pie, and other sorts of fluff.  It’s not me.  When I try to write about sweet stuff it comes off as just plain corny.  Others can write about it, but not me.

I need to write about the gritty, raw aspects of everyday life.  Ones with the scars; open, festering wounds.  The ugly side of humanity.  We all know that life is not always pretty.  Perhaps our upbringing was far from Ozzy and Harriet.  Maybe it was cold, lonely, and abusive, and left us wondering what we ever did to deserve such resentment.

We could be facing serious addictions – drugs, alcohol, food, and even sex.  Life can be messy.  Sometimes even downright dangerous.  But we keep trying.  Trying to get ahead.  Trying to better ourselves.  Trying to succeed.  Trying to survive.

That is what I want to write about.  The dark underbelly of society.  About the jealousy, burdens, fears, and heartache.  The unknown factors.  Life.  Death.  And everything in between.

My husband used to say that my writing was ‘poetry to commit suicide by’ since it was so dark and depressing.  Perhaps it stemmed from my teenage angst and pain of rejection from my peers.  I just wanted to be real.  Like life itself.  No false pretenses.  No sugar-coating the truth.

I am a writer.  I need to write like I need food, air, and water to survive.  Yes.  I am even miserable when I don’t write.  It is my addiction and my balm.  And I need to write honestly about the things that float around in this brain of mine.  Tales of passion, violence, deceit, and grief.  Reality.

So you have been warned, dear readers.  I can no longer hold these thoughts inside.  Either release them or I’ll explode.  Maybe I don’t want to be judged harshly by my peers.  I don’t want others to question my sanity.  To question my faith.  I must write what is in my heart. I have to write.  I love to write.  It is my passion.  My joy.  My lifeblood.  Follow me on this journey, if you so choose.  Welcome to the madness and the fun.