Tag Archives: dreams

this halftime is show brought to you by astrazeneca and cheerwhine

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on september 16th, six weeks ago today, i expounded on the wisdom of listening carefully to your body and responding promptly to his or her cries for help. omg, what a NAG! six weeks later and she’s still barkin’ at me like crazy! she wouldn’t even shut up during the world series game last night. she found something or other to chirp me about through all 11 innings.

the problem with the voice of my body…besides the shrillness of her whiney cries…is that she gets all my other voices excited too. all the demons are in there, already juiced for halloween, perfectly willing to tailgate behind body-girl’s truck and her shrieking PA.  so the debbie-downers are in there bitching and moaning about weak drinks and the wind, the carrie-carriers are watching everything i do singing a constant refrain of they’re all gonna laugh at you, and below that is the din of a competitive whining club jockeying for my attention.

i need noise cancelling headphones. that work on the inside. maybe AstraZeneca can help me if they are too expensive.

so i launched my business yesterday, i think…maybe that was a delusional vicodin dream. hardheadcopy.com. nope! it’s still there! yay! i even got a bite (that’s what friends and family are for, right? aren’t they at the top of every cookie, popcorn, pie or candy fundraiser form? do you really think it’s that different once you are grown?) since i published the site and actually told folks about it, the cacophony of jeers from my internal peanut gallery has been relentless…splintered only by those incessant, pervasive internal cheerleaders that somehow survived this tomboy’s mutilation efforts. thank God for them…i never really understood the point of cheerleaders, unless you were one or dated one, but i’ve caught wind of some intrinsic value…and it’s not just a breeze passing through vapid ear canals, i checked.

i don’t have much point here today other than to say that sometimes you have to acknowledge that you can’t hear shit above all the ruckus in your head and the fear in your heart…and then do it anyway, whatever “it” is. i’ve finally stopped trying to argue all the negativity away. when i hear the “what if’s” and “but your gonna’s” and “how will you’s” lately, i just say (think) say what you want, demons, reason, whoever you are…i don’t care, i’m doing it anyway.

maybe that’s practice doing its thing…i know my parents and close friends and loves have heard me bark that last part a few times. they will definitely vouch for my lifelong dedication to doing it anyway.

i need to heal today. maybe grab some new business in a few hours. take some painkillers. know that i’ll recover eventually. go get my daughter from her crib where she’s been conversing with me by monitor for the last ten minutes. in other words, life goes on (that is, if you hear the nagging for what it is and tend to it! – true for both bodies and spouses), and life is good…warts, infections and all. man that makes me sound gross. i don’t actually have any warts at the moment (and no that’s not a hint for my christmas list).

live, hurt, cry, laugh, succeed, fail, eat, drink and sleep…in no particular order…and you have a day. one at a time. fear, psychic pain and self-loathing have virtually no power in the moment…take the tomorrows and yesterdays out of their mouths and they find little to complain about. and as for physical pain…that’s what opiates are for.

happy weekends, readers. life is a dream when you walk with yours…even if it’s hard to keep up.

 

 

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Fruition…the fruit of fearful fearlessness

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well, something’s working. and it’s definitely not the pain relievers i took for my neck, which now hurts on both sides upon rising from tussly, tossy sleep. but something is working away, like a kernel searching and translating, sending synapses through pink tunnels of grey matter, burrowing, borrowing, invading my waking and sleeping thoughts.

i’ve started writing. well, duh, you say, i’ve been kind enough to humor your postings now for three weeks….where is this going, trish? i’ve tapped into the creative, the exhilarated, the pensively consumed and they’ve packed themselves in a delicately doilied handbasket headed straight to Fruition. the mental artists i’ve gathered to push me and and inspire me have been busy, painting my life the color of music, sunlight, euphoria and Love. what has me gushing through this written portion of my poetic license exam? despite my rushed morning yesterday, despite a busy and silly day, spent in american malls and plastic parking lots, i found the heart and mind to crawl deep inside another mind, a character, a fiction, and spill some of her story on paper. ok, well…spill some on screen.

it seems that this “don’t look down” and “just practice your craft” attitude is worth something. i’m sticking with it. i’m finding that by surrounding myself with encouraging and courageous people, i am suddenly encouraged and courageous. throw in a mix of my soul food, mostly music and lust and freedom and words, and suddenly a seed planted more than two decades ago in a desperate, starving, teenage mind, is growing like jack’s beanstalk from my fingers and heart. so, before i’m “ready,” before there is “enough time,” before i have “a leg to stand on,” i’ve roped myself into posting here in some dependable fashion…ready and read or not, and now also into finishing 60 or so more episodes of fiction writing like i had last night…60 or so more episodes of literary brilliance…to complete my first great american novel. teehee.

ok, granted, i’ve started a few before…but this one is different. this one burns and churns in my mind and then writes it’s characters, illuminating for me the heart of the matter one simple line at a time. i’m in a new phase of life, where i’m writing because it’s FUN, less concerned than ever that it’s perfect or brilliant  in the opinions of my exhaulted literati. i’m writing without much attention to other than what pleases me, page to page. i’m writing because i’m meant to and because to not finish something would be as great a disservice to my deathbed as any i could imagine. i want to put my money where my fingers and bragging words are…i want to give it my everything…my heart, time, ego and humor. i’m inspired even as i’m aggravated by a recent car commercial that suggests that missing it’s end of summer sales event would garner the same deathbed regrets as never penning the novel i promised myself…and every friend i’ve met in 25 years of travel, boasting and fantasizing.

this morning my neck is almost paralyzed from too many computer hours and not enough sunlight. my daughter is beginning to whistfully call for a rescue from a cheery saturday morning crib. it’s one of the last pool weekends of the summer. it’s time to recharge, to keep this wave rolling and my spirit high upon its face. i love this feeling, i love these words, and i love everyone who’s ever bothered to read a single one of mine.

to anyone with the spark of a writer’s soul out there…especially the ones caught up in day-to-day doldrums or drama, i will share with you what a writer told me once long ago. he was a prolific guy, in his early 20s, already penning book number 3. i’m not sure any of them were publishable, many written in wee hours fueled by scary drugs that also became the subject of much of his work…and likely his line of work….but he had a passion for words that only other nerdy writers ever really understand. i wasn’t writing a lot at the time, and his words struck me, and then reverberated through years of writing even less. as i lamented the difference between my heart’s desire and my (un)productivity, he said, “a writer never stops writing, sometimes we just stop recording for a while.”

i’ve carried that statement in my writer’s mind, repeated it several times following laments and trips to the poser closet, and hoped always that the reassurance it offers would be more than a platitude for me, that it would portend my mid-life or late-life authoring genius. that’s one of the cool things about writing…you can start the career whenever it strikes you. i’ve always known that i had until my deathbed to pull it off.

i hate to jinx myself, i fear spouting my enthusiasm all over the web, when i’ve only just begun to weave a tale, a tale i can see all the way to the end, but that needs about 88,000 more words to be believable. but accountability, putting the energy out there and staking everything on this momentum, this ride…well, so far it’s workin’ for me. i’ve never been so “all in.” i thought “all in” would be scarier…that it would be harder than this to “not look down,” but i’m finding that it feels a little bit like skydiving…you think it’s scary until you do it…then you realize it’s all just bliss and release…that fear is just fear, not Fruition…and that the risk is worth it and what living is all about.

running down a dream…sucking wind and smiling

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i’m getting a late start this morning on my post, not for lack of enthusiasm or words, but because writing something that fulfills me every day is not yet my full time job…emphasis on “yet.” i am walking a narrow wall of faith right now believing in myself and in others’ belief in me. i must stay convinced that one day soon i will find fruition, that my 25 year old dreams and fantasies were not planted in my mind to torture me, but to call me.

following your dreams is scary. i do a lot of practical things well, so why not just do those? predictable, steady, secure…or so it seems. what is secure anymore? is there anything we can count on in these turbulent times? has there ever been anything we could really count on besides ourselves? hell, we even let ourselves down often enough to question our fortitude and dependability. all i really know is that if i am fortunate to wake up on any given day, i will breathe, and i will care for my daughter…beyond that i make no promises but to approach the challenges and victories of the day with kindness and Love. security is an illusion, especially when it remains at the mercy of your boss or some anonymous shareholders…shareholders who don’t know you as a person, and who see their fortunes rise and fall with every expenditure your company makes.  security is an illusion…cataclysmic events can come at anytime…cosmic events, personal developments. here i am, back to that tired “carpe diem” concept, oh captain my ho-hum captain.

but i’m not talking about seizing a day. i’m talking about seizing a life. you get one chance to live your divine purpose…well, one that we know of anyway. i hope one day, my few readers here, and the ones who’ve pushed and encouraged me all these years, will fondly remember reading my baby steps. (and man, i hope that my walking legs come soon). i imagine the day when i will run with purpose along a path meant for me. i don’t care if i fall a hundred times along the way…bruises, scrapes and all, i will be smiling and getting back up to run again. i’ve proven to myself that i will stay in the race and find joy in it. oh, wait…didn’t i just write a few days ago about how much i hate running? that brings up another funny thing i noticed about running in real life…i’ve never minded running in the context of a sport i like to play or an outing that excites me. i might suck some wind, but i hardly notice the running part as i chase soccer, tennis or racquetballs, or sprint to the line for a rollercoaster or water slide. and so it is when you chase your dreams…suddenly what appears to be “work” doesn’t feel like “work.”  i feel that difference even now when i teach classes as one of my (yawn) regular job duties. actually training people, being in front of them joking, teaching and helping, is rewarding enough that it’s kept me solvent and happy for over a decade.

but now i want something new, something close to my heart and that’s been too scary for me to try for fear of failure. now i want what i’ve dreamed of my entire life, since the tender age of 14 or maybe younger, when i heard for the first time from a beloved teacher, “you are a really good writer.” it took a while to let that sink in. really? huh. after that i spent my secondary education as a wallflower student, thinking no one noticed me, thinking no teachers would remember me…but they consistently noticed one thing…i could write.  so, after 25 years of dabbling and hiding, i’m ready to put my heart out there. i’m ready to tell the world that i can write, instead of asking for permission. i’m ready to make a life from it, because the world needs good writers, despite how many there seem to be. because i’m ready to stop hiding my heart and talents behind walls of security and benefits packages.

at some point, if you have a fire, if you have a dream that you just can’t shake loose…you’ve got to accept it and reach out to find a way to live your divine purpose. i’m working harder with Faith right now than i ever thought i could. i’ve got my “don’t look down” face on and though it’s terrifying to float in mid-air like this, the determined trish in my heart is yelling the loudest words of encouragement, joy and anticipation, loud enough to drown the voices of doubt. and it’s important to realize that most of us can’t grab hold of our dreams without help. my teacher and mentor told me yesterday that one of my strengths is being able to seek help. ha, really? when did i build that muscle? when i had no other choice…when i was so weak i couldn’t have survived without help. now i’m strong enough to seek and give at the same time. that’s the energy and power that comes from the fire in your heart…the fire you feel when you realize that you are stronger and more passionate than you realized, more compassionate than you thought you could be.

practice makes perfect imperfection. don’t be afraid to suck. just do. it feels good anyway…trust me, have some Faith.

making examples and midnight snacks

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i’ve learned a lot of things the hard way. a lot of things. so many that i feel lucky to have made it through the sometimes deadly terrain of the hard way alive. and i’m really, really alive.  i feel i’ve perfected the hard way and am ready to move on.

mastery of the hard way* means i can have some faith in myself, take some more risks, better calculated, and know i’ll survive them (probably). mastery of the hard way my way means i’m becoming my best self, by the skin of my teeth, and having a blast pulling it off. that last part is important…kinda the whole point actually. i’m trying hard to shorten the list of possible things i might regret not doing in one lifetime. i might be more dedicated than most, i’m not sure. i’ve lived until it hurt, seen my best guesses blow apart and found myself more raw than i ever realized was possible. i’ve done that a few times, actually. still, part of the essential me always comes back and, these days especially, is coming out sound, strong, kind and present.

so i’m writing here and evolving here. i’m finding a voice. which probably sounds strange coming from someone who talks a lot for a living. maybe you’ll help. i’m not even sure who “you” is supposed to be (maybe you aren’t either), but i’m tired of waiting for the perfect _(infinite list of fill-ins)__ to get it started. we all have dreams that poke at us using different voices, sometimes encouraging, sometimes discouraging. at least i think we all do. most of us? i guess all i really know is that i’m living my dreams right now, nightmares and all. every day. one day at a time. and if you read this, you’ve made your contribution to the softer of those dreams, and most passionate. i’m not sure yet how a blog might change my life, or how my blog might change your life…i’m not sure just how a blog would do all of that. in fact i hate the word “blog,” which closely follows “blogger” on the short list of Words I Loathe. i am sure, though, that there’s a way to live across this whole spectrum of feeling we’re given and be full, be happy, be mindful, be free and make this life a giant rainbow of fruit flavors for ourselves. i’m a living example. and for once, making an example of me sounds pretty fun.

now i want fruit flavors. midnight snack. right on time.

*one time disclaimer: mastery of this page and of formal grammar rules means i can do what i want on these pages with all grammar – punctuation…word parts…spelling….sentence structure, etc. and to read this you will have to forgive my abhorrence for capital letters. it’s a personal thing, developed over time. i’m sorry if it makes reading harder, i just like the small ones better. i don’t have a more complicated artistic reason. also, i think in ellipses…a lot. let’s just get that out of the way. i like to think of it as “lyrical.” if i think of it at all.