First, I want to bring you up to speed on the current work-in-progress, DEADLY GAMBLE, which will be published in November of 06, in trade-size paperback, by HQN. I expect to finish the rough draft--revisions still ahead--this very day. It's been an amazing experience; even though I've written approximately 100 books--I lost count years ago--each one takes me into new territory, both interior and exterior. It's always an exciting journey, and usually exhausting--more so in this case, because Mojo Sheepshanks, the heroine of this brand new series, is absolutely intrepid. She goes where no sensible person would go, and of course, I have to travel with her. I'm looking forward to a break. I'm also looking forward to the next Mojo story!
Here's what else is going on Linda-World:
The horses are heading north this weekend, in the care of my cousin, Steve Wiley, and his son, Andy. I'm going to have to cry a little, but Skye, Banjo, Buck and Coco need to go on ahead, so they have time to grow a coat of winter hair. I wouldn't trust them to just anybody--Steve and Andy love them as much as I do. Soon, I hope, I'll be living up there with them, on my new ranch, which I plan to call the Triple L. (Linda Lee Lael).
I've decided to learn to play poker. I'll tell you more about that later, but suffice it to say, I'll be writing 3 modern McKettrick books soon, and poker figures prominently in the stories. These guys need to know when to fold 'em, know when to hold 'em, know when to walk away, and know when to RUN! Rest assured, they'll never count their money while they're sittin' at the table, because there'll be time enough for countin', when the dealin's done.
I'm going back to Weight Watchers on Tuesday morning. Alcoholics need to go to AA, and I need to go to WW! :) Might as well just accept it.
It's cooling off here in Arizona, and what a relief that is. I had to laugh yesterday, when I realized that 96 degrees is a cool temperature to me!
More next week.
Plan something new and impossible.
Have a wonderful weekend.
And hold onto your COURAGE.
Friday, September 30, 2005
Thursday, September 29, 2005
All Grown Up and Still Trying Out for Cheerleader
It starts early, when we're little girls. (Little boys have their own version, but that's another subject for another day. And never having been a little boy, I can't speak with any real authority on the subject anyway.)
Try-outs are about being good enough.
Skinny enough.
Pretty enough.
Popular enough.
You've gotta be CHOSEN, the theory goes.
By whom?
The Universe. The System. Society. Fashion designers in New York. TV and magazines. (Oh, don't get me started on the media's role in getting the whole self-hate, anorexic ball rolling!) In short, some nebulous "they", with some sweeping mandate to choose, to decide and decree who's valuable and who isn't. It's a great way to keep smart girls down (smart girls are very dangerous, you know, because they have the potential to change the world) , and if they go ahead and get into the game, choosing themselves, you can usually bring them down by slapping on that all-purpose weapon-word, Bitch.
Martha Stewart is a prime example of this. Sure, she shouldn't have lied, or done whatever it was she did, and then denied it. But let's face it. When a man does something like that, he usually gets a slap on the wrist, at worst. It's considered business acumen. Atta boy, go-get-em, and all that garbage. Martha's great sin is being a successful, visible woman. Fortunately for her, she's not afraid of the word "bitch". Indeed, I think she revels in it, and if I were any one of the guys who hamstrung her, I'd watch my back.
We all buy into this patriarchal crap, at one point or another. We grow up with it, and make it part of us. Logic says it ought to be left behind, when we graduate from high school, but it usually lasts a lot longer than that.
Once in a while, some Sleeping Beauty wakes up and calls bullshit, and out comes mega-word. BITCH.
So what?
Says who?
If you want to do anything big in this world, you'd better get used to that word. You'd better start loving it. But lest you think I'm saying you ought to retaliate, I want to add this. You don't have to play by anybody else's rules, and that includes wasting creative energy in pissing matches. That's just another trap.
I declare this National Bitch Day.
National Bitch Week.
Maybe even National Bitch YEAR.
Go ahead, be a bitch.
Just get into the game.
It takes COURAGE, but you can do it.
Try-outs are about being good enough.
Skinny enough.
Pretty enough.
Popular enough.
You've gotta be CHOSEN, the theory goes.
By whom?
The Universe. The System. Society. Fashion designers in New York. TV and magazines. (Oh, don't get me started on the media's role in getting the whole self-hate, anorexic ball rolling!) In short, some nebulous "they", with some sweeping mandate to choose, to decide and decree who's valuable and who isn't. It's a great way to keep smart girls down (smart girls are very dangerous, you know, because they have the potential to change the world) , and if they go ahead and get into the game, choosing themselves, you can usually bring them down by slapping on that all-purpose weapon-word, Bitch.
Martha Stewart is a prime example of this. Sure, she shouldn't have lied, or done whatever it was she did, and then denied it. But let's face it. When a man does something like that, he usually gets a slap on the wrist, at worst. It's considered business acumen. Atta boy, go-get-em, and all that garbage. Martha's great sin is being a successful, visible woman. Fortunately for her, she's not afraid of the word "bitch". Indeed, I think she revels in it, and if I were any one of the guys who hamstrung her, I'd watch my back.
We all buy into this patriarchal crap, at one point or another. We grow up with it, and make it part of us. Logic says it ought to be left behind, when we graduate from high school, but it usually lasts a lot longer than that.
Once in a while, some Sleeping Beauty wakes up and calls bullshit, and out comes mega-word. BITCH.
So what?
Says who?
If you want to do anything big in this world, you'd better get used to that word. You'd better start loving it. But lest you think I'm saying you ought to retaliate, I want to add this. You don't have to play by anybody else's rules, and that includes wasting creative energy in pissing matches. That's just another trap.
I declare this National Bitch Day.
National Bitch Week.
Maybe even National Bitch YEAR.
Go ahead, be a bitch.
Just get into the game.
It takes COURAGE, but you can do it.
Wednesday, September 28, 2005
An Allegory
This came to me this morning, while I was journaling, and it resonated so much that I immediately wanted to share it with you. All it really requires is a willingness to go along on a little imaginary journey...
Imagine yourself as a lighthouse. The stormy seas surrounding the little spit of hard, rocky ground upon which you stand are life circumstances, things you cannot control. Beyond the frayed edges of that storm are ships, with your name on the manifest. They carry your dreams.
Now, if you are like me, you have been trying to swim out to those ships, and tow them in by taking their lines in your teeth. You have sailed, sometimes, in leaky dinghies, and you've taken a real battering and swallowed a lot of seawater. Because you abandoned your post in the lighthouse, some of those ships have even crashed into the rocks and spilled broken treasures along the shoreline of your life. Chances are, you've spent a lot of time scavenging, searching for things you can save. Maybe you believe the ships have sailed by, and dropped anchor in someone else's port. Maybe you've even been afraid they were pirate ships, and deliberately doused your light, so they wouldn't find you. (Very foolish, grasshopper. Pirate ships are not attracted to light. They operate best in darkness. Therefore, by shutting down the light, you drew them to you. What an irony, but there it is.)
Listen up. Go back to the lighthouse. Climb the stairs, and attend to the light. The ships will sail in on their own, when they can track the beam of light to guide them.
What is the Light? It is that truest place inside you, where the physical and nonphysical worlds connect. You know it's there--you've probably happened upon it in rare moments.
Your mind is NOT the light, it is the transmitter of the light.
I hear you. Wonderful allegory, you're saying, but how do I apply it? I don't know how to run a lighthouse.
For me, it's mainly about prayer. Staying home in my own mind, keeping the light burning. No more dives into the drink. No more leaky dinghies. It's about trusting that those ships are out there, that they belong to me, and that they will come in, under their own power, if I just "man" the lighthouse.
Think about it.
Ask for guidance. There's a Master Lighthouse Keeper waiting to help.
There's a reason why lighthouses are symbols of safety in a storm.
In the meantime, Courage.
Imagine yourself as a lighthouse. The stormy seas surrounding the little spit of hard, rocky ground upon which you stand are life circumstances, things you cannot control. Beyond the frayed edges of that storm are ships, with your name on the manifest. They carry your dreams.
Now, if you are like me, you have been trying to swim out to those ships, and tow them in by taking their lines in your teeth. You have sailed, sometimes, in leaky dinghies, and you've taken a real battering and swallowed a lot of seawater. Because you abandoned your post in the lighthouse, some of those ships have even crashed into the rocks and spilled broken treasures along the shoreline of your life. Chances are, you've spent a lot of time scavenging, searching for things you can save. Maybe you believe the ships have sailed by, and dropped anchor in someone else's port. Maybe you've even been afraid they were pirate ships, and deliberately doused your light, so they wouldn't find you. (Very foolish, grasshopper. Pirate ships are not attracted to light. They operate best in darkness. Therefore, by shutting down the light, you drew them to you. What an irony, but there it is.)
Listen up. Go back to the lighthouse. Climb the stairs, and attend to the light. The ships will sail in on their own, when they can track the beam of light to guide them.
What is the Light? It is that truest place inside you, where the physical and nonphysical worlds connect. You know it's there--you've probably happened upon it in rare moments.
Your mind is NOT the light, it is the transmitter of the light.
I hear you. Wonderful allegory, you're saying, but how do I apply it? I don't know how to run a lighthouse.
For me, it's mainly about prayer. Staying home in my own mind, keeping the light burning. No more dives into the drink. No more leaky dinghies. It's about trusting that those ships are out there, that they belong to me, and that they will come in, under their own power, if I just "man" the lighthouse.
Think about it.
Ask for guidance. There's a Master Lighthouse Keeper waiting to help.
There's a reason why lighthouses are symbols of safety in a storm.
In the meantime, Courage.
Tuesday, September 27, 2005
I'm back!
Actually, I wasn't away, but all day yesterday, MSN's servers were down, and I couldn't get online to write this blog. Like many things, large and small, that are suddenly taken away, this gave me a real appreciation for MSN's normal efficiency!
My thoughts have been taking a more grateful turn lately--and I am normally a grateful person, anyway. Every day, at the end of my Morning Pages, I list at least five things I'm thankful for, and I've been doing that for a long time. Still, seeing the ravages of the hurricanes made me even more aware of how blessed me are, those of us still going about our ordinary days. And how precious are those ordinary days! The victims of the recent storms must yearn, often and poignantly, for the things and people they may have taken for granted, at least part of the time.
The other day, I visited the supermarket. It was the weekend, and I wanted to cook a little---for the dogs and for myself. So I drove to the store, with a list in hand. I've gone grocery shopping a million times, haven't you? It's definitely ordinary--especially in America. So I walk in, and maybe for the first time, I really see the wonder of it. Flowers, blooming like a garden in the corner by the main entrance. Fruits and vegetables so colorful and so varied that a half-wit could write stirring poetry about them. Milk and butter and magazines, shampoo and deodorant, all manner of wonderfully ordinary things.
I'm not proud of this, but I've often griped about shopping for food. I'd made it into a chore, a big production, a drama, and there were so many things I'd rather have been doing. But on this bright Saturday morning, I suddenly wanted to weep with gratitude! I felt as though I'd walked right into a giant cornucopia. Such abundance, such quality, such choice. I couldn't help thinking how I'd miss this thing I had never properly appreciated, if it were suddenly gone. I had my own personal Thanksgiving that day, and it's still with me.
We often act, I think, as if we are entitled to these luxuries. As if they are somehow our due. What, you don't carry my brand of yogurt? These prices are highway robbery! Why is that woman taking forever and a day to get change out of her purse and holding up the line? Don't these people know I have things to do?
In all these attitudes, there are points of change, opportunities to choose again, reasons to be thankful instead of grouchy. There are probably half a dozen other brands of yogurt, if not more. Most of us can afford to pay the prices, and when you consider all the steps involved in getting a box of detergent, for example, from the factory to the shelf, it's not so bad. And the woman holding up the line? Well, this is an occasion for her, since she doesn't get out so much anymore--she's been through the Depression, maybe, and she's got to watch her pennies. Nothing I have to do after I leave that store is more important than kindness or patience. I'm not going to tap my foot or look impatiently at my watch. I'm going to stand there and be grateful that, for some unknown reason, I am among the blessed. It may not always be so, for we are all subject to disaster, not just those people in those other states. I believe there's a purpose and a plan to it all. I also believe that God loves us all equally, and none of us are exempt from calamity. This is earth, not heaven. The suddenly homeless, the lost and separated, well, any one of us could find ourselves in their midst, at any time.
We don't need to be afraid. We DO need to be grateful. We need to be generous.
What are you thankful for?
Have courage.
My thoughts have been taking a more grateful turn lately--and I am normally a grateful person, anyway. Every day, at the end of my Morning Pages, I list at least five things I'm thankful for, and I've been doing that for a long time. Still, seeing the ravages of the hurricanes made me even more aware of how blessed me are, those of us still going about our ordinary days. And how precious are those ordinary days! The victims of the recent storms must yearn, often and poignantly, for the things and people they may have taken for granted, at least part of the time.
The other day, I visited the supermarket. It was the weekend, and I wanted to cook a little---for the dogs and for myself. So I drove to the store, with a list in hand. I've gone grocery shopping a million times, haven't you? It's definitely ordinary--especially in America. So I walk in, and maybe for the first time, I really see the wonder of it. Flowers, blooming like a garden in the corner by the main entrance. Fruits and vegetables so colorful and so varied that a half-wit could write stirring poetry about them. Milk and butter and magazines, shampoo and deodorant, all manner of wonderfully ordinary things.
I'm not proud of this, but I've often griped about shopping for food. I'd made it into a chore, a big production, a drama, and there were so many things I'd rather have been doing. But on this bright Saturday morning, I suddenly wanted to weep with gratitude! I felt as though I'd walked right into a giant cornucopia. Such abundance, such quality, such choice. I couldn't help thinking how I'd miss this thing I had never properly appreciated, if it were suddenly gone. I had my own personal Thanksgiving that day, and it's still with me.
We often act, I think, as if we are entitled to these luxuries. As if they are somehow our due. What, you don't carry my brand of yogurt? These prices are highway robbery! Why is that woman taking forever and a day to get change out of her purse and holding up the line? Don't these people know I have things to do?
In all these attitudes, there are points of change, opportunities to choose again, reasons to be thankful instead of grouchy. There are probably half a dozen other brands of yogurt, if not more. Most of us can afford to pay the prices, and when you consider all the steps involved in getting a box of detergent, for example, from the factory to the shelf, it's not so bad. And the woman holding up the line? Well, this is an occasion for her, since she doesn't get out so much anymore--she's been through the Depression, maybe, and she's got to watch her pennies. Nothing I have to do after I leave that store is more important than kindness or patience. I'm not going to tap my foot or look impatiently at my watch. I'm going to stand there and be grateful that, for some unknown reason, I am among the blessed. It may not always be so, for we are all subject to disaster, not just those people in those other states. I believe there's a purpose and a plan to it all. I also believe that God loves us all equally, and none of us are exempt from calamity. This is earth, not heaven. The suddenly homeless, the lost and separated, well, any one of us could find ourselves in their midst, at any time.
We don't need to be afraid. We DO need to be grateful. We need to be generous.
What are you thankful for?
Have courage.
Friday, September 23, 2005
More on the Succession of You's
There's good news and bad news.
The good news is, you have a lot of options, and you could become any one of a number of future you's.
The bad news is, you have a lot of options, and you could become any one of a number of future you's.
The person you are today is the result of choices made by earlier you's. That is the law, and there is no changing it. (You don't get to blame God, the government, your mother, that nasty co-worker, or your ex-husband. The universe operates under the law of free choice. As they say in the 12 step programs, your best thinking got you here. If you don't like wherever that is, change your thinking. It's like a navigational system in a vehicle--it will follow the coordinates you set.)
I hear you. You're saying, "Did all those people in the way of Hurricanes Katrina and Rita choose that path?"
I believe that, in the strictest, most elemental sense, they did. Before they came into this wonderful, dangerous, messy world, they agreed to the experience, for purposes only God can fully understand. I know it's tough to wrap a mortal brain around this, but that's why they call it Faith. If we didn't have to take a lot of things on trust, what would be the point of the exercise? And no--this does not excuse the rest of us from compassion and generosity and active participation in the solutions. If we don't push up our sleeves, forget our differences, and wade in to help, who will?
And who really knows? The hurricanes may have been allowed because it seems to take a major disaster to get people giving and thinking as a unit. Furthermore, the hurricane may be a pivotal point along the path to the selves these individuals want to become. Adversity can crush the spirit, or it can strengthen. Even if you didn't choose the disaster, you can still choose your interpretation of it. That's the fulcrum, the point where the balance shifts. It's not the event. It's your interpretation of the event.
Back to the succession of you's. The first step in getting unstuck is to choose a direction. Who do you want to become, day by day and choice by choice? Go ahead, check out your future selves. Use that powerful imagination of yours. Pick a self you like, and one who is doing something you now regard as impossible. (That's important. Why bother with a self who won't step outside her comfort zone and try something new?) Journal about this Future Self of yours. Maybe even dialogue with her. (I do this a lot, and it's powerful.) Ask her questions. How did she get where she is? What steps did she take? (Don't expect her to be perfect. She's still moving along the chain of successive selves, toward an even better version of herself.)
As an example, do you want to live in abundance, or do you want to be a bag lady?
If you make conscious, focused choices, you will do the former. If you live by default, believing that life is random and you're a victim, you might become the latter. (Though probably not, because there's Grace to consider. Thank God for unanswered prayers.)
I guess the bottom line is, show up, suit up, and play the game. Be involved. Be present. Be the best current you possible. Know that bruised knees and bloody noses happen, in any game.
Then...
Choose an objective.
Set a course.
And move toward the next self, choice by choice.
Don't try to leap from Current You to Mother Theresa. Quantum leaps are no good, because when you make one, you miss all the learning experiences in between, the insights and skills that would have sustained you in the new place. You need the foundation gained only by making the journey, with no shortcuts.
Just fix your sights on the Next Best You. That's quite enough. Do your best, and keep moving.
It does take...
COURAGE.
May you be blessed.
May you be safe.
May you be healthy, in mind, body and spirit.
May you stand for those who cannot yet stand for themselves, but will, if we just keep our lamps burning so they can see the way.
May you prosper, and share that prosperity with others.
May you be your own best friend, for then you will be able to be a real friend to others as well.
The good news is, you have a lot of options, and you could become any one of a number of future you's.
The bad news is, you have a lot of options, and you could become any one of a number of future you's.
The person you are today is the result of choices made by earlier you's. That is the law, and there is no changing it. (You don't get to blame God, the government, your mother, that nasty co-worker, or your ex-husband. The universe operates under the law of free choice. As they say in the 12 step programs, your best thinking got you here. If you don't like wherever that is, change your thinking. It's like a navigational system in a vehicle--it will follow the coordinates you set.)
I hear you. You're saying, "Did all those people in the way of Hurricanes Katrina and Rita choose that path?"
I believe that, in the strictest, most elemental sense, they did. Before they came into this wonderful, dangerous, messy world, they agreed to the experience, for purposes only God can fully understand. I know it's tough to wrap a mortal brain around this, but that's why they call it Faith. If we didn't have to take a lot of things on trust, what would be the point of the exercise? And no--this does not excuse the rest of us from compassion and generosity and active participation in the solutions. If we don't push up our sleeves, forget our differences, and wade in to help, who will?
And who really knows? The hurricanes may have been allowed because it seems to take a major disaster to get people giving and thinking as a unit. Furthermore, the hurricane may be a pivotal point along the path to the selves these individuals want to become. Adversity can crush the spirit, or it can strengthen. Even if you didn't choose the disaster, you can still choose your interpretation of it. That's the fulcrum, the point where the balance shifts. It's not the event. It's your interpretation of the event.
Back to the succession of you's. The first step in getting unstuck is to choose a direction. Who do you want to become, day by day and choice by choice? Go ahead, check out your future selves. Use that powerful imagination of yours. Pick a self you like, and one who is doing something you now regard as impossible. (That's important. Why bother with a self who won't step outside her comfort zone and try something new?) Journal about this Future Self of yours. Maybe even dialogue with her. (I do this a lot, and it's powerful.) Ask her questions. How did she get where she is? What steps did she take? (Don't expect her to be perfect. She's still moving along the chain of successive selves, toward an even better version of herself.)
As an example, do you want to live in abundance, or do you want to be a bag lady?
If you make conscious, focused choices, you will do the former. If you live by default, believing that life is random and you're a victim, you might become the latter. (Though probably not, because there's Grace to consider. Thank God for unanswered prayers.)
I guess the bottom line is, show up, suit up, and play the game. Be involved. Be present. Be the best current you possible. Know that bruised knees and bloody noses happen, in any game.
Then...
Choose an objective.
Set a course.
And move toward the next self, choice by choice.
Don't try to leap from Current You to Mother Theresa. Quantum leaps are no good, because when you make one, you miss all the learning experiences in between, the insights and skills that would have sustained you in the new place. You need the foundation gained only by making the journey, with no shortcuts.
Just fix your sights on the Next Best You. That's quite enough. Do your best, and keep moving.
It does take...
COURAGE.
May you be blessed.
May you be safe.
May you be healthy, in mind, body and spirit.
May you stand for those who cannot yet stand for themselves, but will, if we just keep our lamps burning so they can see the way.
May you prosper, and share that prosperity with others.
May you be your own best friend, for then you will be able to be a real friend to others as well.
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