Conversation with Yoda

I really don't want to write this book. 


Truly passionate about writing this book, I thought you were.

Well ... I am but ... I don't have anything important to say.

A journey you have been on ... lessons to take back you have.

There are other, more important stories.

    

To others their stories belong.  You to share only is yours.

I don't have all the answers.

 Answers no one expects ... your story only.

What if it's not enough?

What if it is?

Do I have to try?

Do or not do.  There is no try. 

Many years ago I fell in love with Yoda, the Jedi Master in "Star Wars" who has great power and wisdom and an odd but compelling syntax.  His voice came back to me in the last few days as I've been trying to sort out my next steps.

An idea for a book was born about a year ago and in January I started actually writing it as an entry into Hampton Roads'  "Top Self-Help Author" contest. When I found out that I had not advanced to round 2 of the competition, I was disappointed (See Drinking Lemonade ) but it left an opening for a new idea ... and then other new ideas ... and then revisions of ideas.  The title changed, the focus changed, the book changed.  Feedback from the initial readers was encouraging ... with suggestions ... which I had hoped for ... but which left me wavering and uncertain about which way to go.

For the past few days, I questioned the whole enterprise and explored possible formats ... paper book, through a publisher or print-on-demand; eBook with graphics and interesting formatting, or ePub book for readers such as Kindle, iPhone and iPad but boring informat.  I'm in the midst of THREE internet marketing programs (which, in itself is crazy) and all of them have me focusing on questions such as:  Who's the reader?  What problem of theirs am I solving?  How can I become a "trusted authority?"

My mind tangled like spaghetti and I couldn't find a loose end to unravel the mess until this morning when I started the conversation with Yoda.  One of the problems with Yoda is that he doesn't tell me what to do ... he leaves the choice in my hands.  It's my choice:  do or not do.

I think I know the answer.  I really want to write the book.  But, I don't want to write it with one eye on the marketing mindset of a possible publisher.  I know I'm supposed to want to write it as a service to my readers.  And, I do hope that happens but, actually, I want ... I need ... to write it for myself as a way of understanding myself and my journey, especially these past four years.  Only by putting myself soul naked on the page will it be a service to myself or to others.

So ... this is step one ... more to come.

Love and Best Wishes to Coleman Barks

The month of January on this blog was dedicated to Rumi and Coleman Barks who gave the great gift of Rumi to the entire western world.  During that month of sharing videos of Barks reading Rumi, I fell once again in love with both of them.  Rumi's words translated and read through the molasses-rich voice of Barks resonate deeply with millions of people around the planet.

Now I've learned from Maureen at Writing without Paper that Coleman Barks has experienced a stroke which has mainly affected, of all things, his voice.  The message he has sent to his friends and fans is included below, but it seems most appropriate to share another video of Barks ... this time one of his own ... and, very deliberately selfishly wish him a most speedy and complete recovery.  We need you, Coleman.


Louise at Recover Your Joy has also published a video of Coleman's this morning.

Message from Coleman Barks:

Trying to explain my silence, and my inability, maybe, to say poems in public for an indeterminate while. Please forgive this group emailing. Last Sunday morning (Feb. 27, 2011) I had a stroke. I was talking on the truck Onstar phone to my love Lisa Starr. I began to slur words, and then became completely inarticulate, then fairly coherent, then not, then back to some clarity. Driving down Milledge, I turned left on Springdale and drove myself to the St. Mary's Emergency room (a Gold Plus Stroke Center). They immediately put me on TPA. 

So I have been tremendously lucky, actually. In three months, my neurologist doctor (Van Morris!) says (by early June), we will see 80% of what improvement (in my half-smile and my speech) is possible. I plan to work with speech therapists, hypnotists, and whoever else, to get better. Larry Dossey and Fran Quinn say prayer is also a big help.Grace and practice. So there is my challenge for the short run. I am mostly sleeping as much as I can (grace) and listening to recordings of my old voice in my kitchen and talking along (practice). 

I am not answering the phone or the door, or emails (only a few). Please forgive me these reclusive measures. Think of me as an old dormant bear, healing. Lisa is here. Benjamin and Cole and Briny are close by always. Plenty of helpers. I should also tell you too that my cognition is working. I can read and write just fine, and no motor functions are impaired. Arms and legs active and strong. It is really just a slightly droopy right eyelid and my having only half a smile. Speech is, to me, the big problem. It radically comes and goes with its effectiveness. Hopefully, the brain will re-route itself back to normal.Love to all, Coleman

(Please forward thi s to anyone who might be interested.)

Survey: What Do Fearless, Fabulous Women Want?

I'd like to invite all of you fearless, fabulous women to participate in a new survey.   The purpose of the survey is to find out what women at our stage of life truly want ... with the possibility of creating books and other information products that would help you live life more confidently and creatively.

               Click here for the survey

Please feel free to pass the link along to your friends, and post on facebook and twitter.  It's short ... only 10 questions.

Why fearless, fabulous women?

Mainly because I love women who have experienced life and earned their wisdom stripes (sometimes called crow's feet and gray hair).  While some women become fearless and fabulous early in life, for most of us, it shows up in our 40s and 50s.  There’s something that happens to us at this age.  Some things slow down; some things speed up.  Our bodies change and our spirits, now free from the prime responsibility for child care and the frantic multi-tasking required of working mothers, reach out in new directions.  Creativity, simmering on the back-burner sometimes for decades, boils over and claims it’s space on the page, on the canvas, in the garden, in the music room, on the dance floor, or on the world stage.

There is a jubiliance about this time, a breaking free after a long chrysalis stage as we try new wings and look in wonder at the never-before-seen bright colors of ourselves.  I remember being at a writing workshop with Natalie Goldberg in Taos not long after I turned 50.  Each morning I would go for a long walk and suddenly poetry started bubbling up.  It was a shock and one poem said, “I’m a practical person, I don’t write poetry” and finished, “So what is this stuff oozing up from the cracks in my life in these Taos mountains?”  For several years after that, poems flowed like water.

At the time, I thought it was just my own repressed creativity breaking free but since then I’ve talked to dozens of women who report a similar experience of something new coming forth in their 50s.  We think of that age, with the onset of menapause, as a “drying up,” a loss of vitality, when, in actuality, it is a birthing of spirit.  And, everyone who has given birth, whether to a child or a new project, knows that birthing involves pain and a widening of things that sometimes don’t want to widen.  Birthing something new is done in the dark, uncharted territory of Dragon Country.  The uncertainty of a new creation is part of the joy and fascination that pulls us forward and gives us the energy to take the risk involved.


This survey is part of a new birth ... I hope you'll help mid-wife it.

What do you want to do before you die?

Life list.  Bucket list.  Or just one secret wish you've held close but never expressed.  What do you want to do before you die?  


Stumbleupon.com brought me this thought on this crisp, almost-spring morning.

Candy Chang is a public installation artist, designer, urban planner, and co-founder of Civic Center who likes to make cities more comfortable for people.  She recently completed an installation that invites people to share their hopes and wishes.  She states:

"With a lot of help and support from old and new friends, I turned the side of an abandoned house in my neighborhood into a giant chalkboard where residents can fill in the blank and remember what is important to them in life. It’s also about turning a neglected space into a constructive one where we can learn the hopes and aspirations of the people around us."

If you were in her neighborhood in New Orleans, how would you fill in the blank?  Many of the blanks have been filled in with things like:  have fun, see my daughter graduate, go to the Galapagos Islands, save a life, make a difference, go 200 mph, finish school, write a book and so on.

I thought about it for awhile and, restricting myself to only one blank, I had to dig a little.  But I finally came up with:

Before I die I want to ... deeply experience connection with the Universe.

Feel free to use the comment section to post yours.

Rabbit Holes

I spent the weekend in a rabbit hole.  It wasn't Alice's rabbit hole but there might have been a tunnel that would have connected us ... if I had looked.  But, I had a return ticket in my pocket which I held tightly, closed my eyes and repeated the mantra of "home" hoping it would keep me safe.

It was only as I was leaving the gravitational pull of the rabbit hole that I began to realize that I had missed an opportunity to explore a new land.  In my rearview mirror, I saw a a sign shrinking with each mile ... "Winnie ... come find me ... Tigger."  It was too late to turn around.  My homeward bound ticket held me in it's single-minded thrall.  But, something deep within me whispered that I had left a door unopened, a flow of creativity and connection unfelt.  

Suddenly I knew that I could have opened my eyes, opened my heart, opened my mind to the strange world around me.  I would have still been safe and I might have carried home a new treasure.  "Two roads diverged in a yellow wood ..." and I took the straight one home and will never know what difference it made.  Next time maybe I will choose differently.

The Power of One Word

My blog sister Diane has passed on something called a Memetastic Award, so I feel honor bound to honor it and pass it on again to some other wonderful bloggers.  So here's how it works:  when you get the award, you have to...


✦ Link back to the blogger who bestows the award. (✓) Contemplative Photography

✦ Display the image from the award creator. (✓)

✦ Pass the award on to five (5) other bloggers who must follow these rules. (✓)

✦ Link the post back, so Jillsmo can follow its trajectory. (✓)

✦ List five (5) facts, four (4) of which must be lies.  (✓)


Here's a list of blogs that I think deserve this award:


Robert Genn   is a most generous, encouraging artist and shares his thoughts twice a week .  I highly recommend subscribing to the email versions so you don't miss any.

• Danielle M Miller 
• Pajamas & Coffee
• A Year with Rilke   
• Marianne Williamson 

And here are the five things ... one true ... will it be the most boring or the most interesting?

• I was born a poor, white child and dropped on my head while traveling across country on the train.
• I lived with a hot dog-eating rooster, a pet of my cotton-boll tobacco chewing grandmother.
• I married my double-half-step cousin in Arkansas.
• I dived under a burning car on the beach in San Felipe, Mexico.
• I spent six months traveling around New Zealand.

(HINT:  There's only one word difference between the true and the false.  I'll even tell you the one word:  almost.)

Drinking Lemonade

I am sitting here drinking lemonade ... literally and figuratively.

About six weeks ago I signed up for the Hampton Roads "Top Self-Help Author" competition. At the time the email arrived talking about the program, I had been thinking about writing a book for about a year. The timing clicked and I jumped into the program, made a video, set up a mini-website asking for votes and started writing the book. Yesterday I finished the first section of the book and the book proposal, both of which would be required for authors moving on to round 2.

Today, I got the email that said that I did NOT advance to round 2. I was shocked. And even more shocked to find that other authors that I had rated as possible candidates for the Big Win did not advance either. Right or wrong, several of us decided that number of votes may have weighed much more than we believed. I hope that's not sour grapes.

I asked two of the other authors who didn't advance how they handled their disappointment. Suzanne, the woman I had decided was going to walk away with the prize, said:

"The first thing I did is Denial. Did not believe that I did not make it to 2nd round. Not because of my writing yet, but because of my video pitch. I felt it was pretty good. Second I lived my emotions. I cried. I cried in silence then in the arms of my big man. And I will probably let myself be sad for tonight. But tomorrow is another day. Nobody is going to discourage me from writing this book, even if I have to publish it myself."

I understand the initial denial ... I went over the list three times before I could believe that I didn't make it. I liked Suzanne's acceptance of her feelings. I tried to dismiss mine just as I've tried to pretend that other disappointments along the way didn't matter. But, I am disappointed. It is a rejection and as much as I've learned that writing is a path filled with pebbles, rocks and boulders of rejection, I wanted this to be easy, a slam-dunk invitation to play on a new stage. I have loved writing the book and I wanted the comfort and security of the possible book contract. Now that fantasy has popped like a soap bubble in the sun.

Another author, Joan said:

 "How do I handle disappointments? I know everything is the way it is supposed to be... these disappointments lead your life in a direction that will be better for you ... you just don't know it yet... I have CERTAINLY had many disappointments in the past...but it is so much easier now to go with the flow..."

How true. I know that six months or a year from now, I will recognize the perfection of this moment, this so-called "rejection." So I sit with my lemonade, bitter-sweet and refreshing, and ideas and patterns begin to break apart and form into new images. Tomorrow is indeed another day ... another day of writing my book and knowing that new possibilities and opportunities are on the way.