​Wouldn’t it be neat whenever we sense a need for renovation to do a flip? I’m not speaking in terms of real estate. Sometimes I think I’d like to trade any bad, static experiences in life for good, seeking a fresh perspective. A few words sweep into my mind for how to get there. “…be transformed by the renewing of your mind,” (Romans 12:2) and, “…in all things God works for the good of those who love him,” (Romans 8:28). The motivation of flipping negatives for positives rather than flipping out holds a more promising outcome, for sure. On the other hand, the ability to appreciate the good things is oft times amplified by having encountered the bad. Yin and yang, as many would say.  #iamonlyhuman

Here it is, the last day of January, and ever since the beginning of the New Year, I’ve witnessed many people talk about wrapping 2017 around a single word. What one word will be your emblematic motto?
 
I’ve always had a Biblical verse as the theme for an oncoming twelve months, never a single word. After pondering, I finally deliberated that my word is Onward. I don’t have new plans for this year, per se, but I have pre-set plans that, unless the Good Lord deems otherwise, I intend to accomplish. So…onward I go. My word just happens to coincide with my verse for this year: “Commit your work to the Lord, and your plans will be established.” Proverbs 16:3
 
To help inspire me, I’ve posted near my desk a recent drawing my son did. It’s a ten-second sketch, but speaks volumes of how he sees me. How I interpret, anyway. In the rough outline, I see most of all, diligence. Diligence is a part of my name…literally, my birth name means diligent harvester. And back in the day, a few I’d toured with didn’t call me “Tenacious Tessa” for nothing. All of this is a part of me still, and accompanies my present word for a 2017 focus, Onward.
 
Another word has snuck up, however; more like hammering me in the head everywhere I turn. That is, Meekness. It’s a word definition I seem drawn to, yet hear very little about in this day of narcissistic society. The world tends to interpret meekness as weakness or wimpy. Truth is it takes more strength to hold your tongue when you want to give a what-for, to exhibit kindness regardless of circumstance, and to portray leadership partnered with humility, a humble leader, putting others first. When I recently heard a sermon by Mark Hoffman/2RC on the topic of meekness, I learned a perfect definition for the word. Meekness is “Strength under control.” That is definitely something for which I wish to wrap not only my year but also my entire life around.
 
Okay, so maybe I have two words this year. To sum it up, I strongly desire to have a year of pressing onward with meekness. How about you? What might be your word?

I like being still. I like solitude. But I like them on my own terms. Having finished a two week mandatory rest due to a back injury I couldn't decide which was worse, the pain or the fixed inactivity. Drove “restless me” a bit crazy.

Ergonomics a “back” factor as well, the suggestion to sit balanced on an exercise ball for limited computer sessions to write and meet freelancing deadlines made me feel strangely disconnected. What kind of circus is this?

Fortunate in that I had managed to remain injury free throughout my previous years of dance, this whole thing I’m experiencing now, a sprain stemmed from a developed condition prevalent among older dancers, is weird.

My nature is to plow into interests rather than ease. When I had recently decided to return to dance I plowed. When will I become a graduate of the nagging KISS principle? Now I face several months of therapy before I can venture back to dance activities (harrumph). In a fit of rebellion I had wanted to deny the back condition, plug my fingers into my ears and sing, “LaLaLa-I-Can’t-Hear-You-LaLaLa.” Except, physical stipulations speak louder; my body won’t allow the revolt. What I’m learning here – what I've had to learn before – is that there are periods in life when one must exercise patience. Not only exercise but embrace. There is beauty in being still, but you have to truly be still – mind, body, spirit – to perceive it.

“Adopt the pace of nature; patience is her virtue.”—Ralph Waldo Emerson

“Be still, and know that I am God.”—Psalm 46:10

Have you seen the 2013 movie, All Is Lost, with a one-man cast starring Robert Redford? The silence of the film is riveting. This is a story about a man sailing solo deep in the Indian Ocean. Everything you can imagine could go wrong on this voyage does, and the man faces mortality at every turn. There are so many nuances in the movie that held such command. Emotional resilience overpowered, I bawled at the end. And then I just had to watch it again. A story about survival, and then letting go, I felt “spoken to” within the passage – along with the accompanying music by Alex Ebert which was so haunting. An extraordinary film, it’s an introspective person’s enchantment.

Black Sheep, you are different not undesirable; misunderstood not disreputable. Honor is a power of the heart not a reflection of surroundings or surrounding attitudes. Your heart is strong. You do not fail, you climb. Failure is for those who do not move their hooves. Your hardy little even-toed hooves go, go, go! You ascend at your own pace. If you trip, you bleat, but you try again. Resilience. Among the scrutinizing eyes of your compeers I feel your pain, and yet I applaud—for there is no shame in being who you are or what God made you. No embarrassment, only delight. No shame, only honest pride. Some look at you and see deviation from the flock. I see straightforwardness.

Black Sheep, you are beautiful, and as you should be.

I couldn't sleep. I guess my nerves were on edge. I felt unsettled about the condition of the world, the state of society, a broken political climate becoming sicker at an alarming rate. Peace, kindness, understanding…forgiveness; a culture without blatant double standards. Where had they gone? When had everything become so complicated within and without? Had a veil covered my vision all along and the unfavorable things existed yet were hidden from my eyes? Or have things, on the whole, truly made a turn for an all-time low?

Before sunrise I stepped outside of the house, consumed with restless thoughts, believing that a bit of fresh air might be good. Under the blanket of a night sky, I glanced up and was struck by the brilliance of the stars. Then it dawned on me that it had been a very long time since I had observed the stars. It used to be a bit of a pastime. What even happened to that diversion? Maybe the change occurred in me, went unnoticed. I had forgotten to appreciate the simple things.

I stood there outdoors, inhaling deeply over and again—I couldn't get enough!—and admired the infinite space, the sparkling lights, each a kind of promise, a reminder that out there, the heavens, is so much greater than anything in my little realm. The Maker of those stars is in control. If he can create and handle all of that and more, he can help me manage the issues of today - issues that seem transitory in the greater scheme of life. A gaze at the stars left me with the profound wish to return to the simple things. How effortless, and yet how beautiful and healing…one upward glance.

At times I've been asked why I dream and word-paint so much in metaphorical pictures. It’s the language I've known since I can remember! In some situations, times, or events, dreams are the only thing a person has, until “I have always been” knocks at your heart’s door with the proclamation, “I am here, seek no longer.” Open that door and things can happen.

There’s a saying, hope deferred makes the heart ache. Be it from a disappointing reality, a lost search for a part of one’s soul, an unfulfilled goal, or an indirect path.

I’m a whimsical dreamer and forever will I be. Because of hope. Because a dream fulfilled is a tree of life. (Proverbs 13:12)

Yesterday was the actual day for the release of my latest fantasy romance novella, #2 of The Brother’s Keep series via Soul Mate Publishing, Sea God’s Siren. However, I’d missed the launch! Ugh. Instead, I had been camped out at a hospital for several days while a loved one experienced surgery and then complications from that surgery. Ick. It’s been a loooooong week, yet the end of it holds promise, and even excitement, as those uncomfortable things in life smooth out and I can now officially introduce this new title. So without much ado, here he his, he’s arrived—the last merman who pledges his forbidden love to a blind mortal.

Now available on Amazon. How cool is that?

Not only has the Internet augmented technological advancement, the Avenue of Progress well paved, it has completely transformed our social culture. In the latter, I’m not sure if that’s a good thing or bad. On the one hand, a private person such as I can feel her space invaded at any given moment with a mere “click” from another. In order to manage and survive in this culture, especially as a writer, it’s difficult to turn off the Internet. I’ve come to depend on it in many ways for many things, and I feel disabled if I can’t gain access. On the other hand, it gives a taciturn introvert a voice. When I might stand silently and blink, weighing things out, holding my tongue, instead of conversing in the hardcopy version of life, online I can be quite outspoken. Gregarious, even. Sometimes I think this is good. Other times, I’m not so sure. I suppose, with everything, finding balance is the key.

I flew back ad lib to my hometown in the Pacific Northwest. The circumstances that pulled me there weren’t pleasant, but I had pleasant moments. Such as bumping into people I hadn’t seen in years with whom
I had exchanged books, rode horses, frequented art galleries, chuckled over bad poetry readings (usually our own), played music, and danced; individuals who had filled my existence with distinct richness in a well-recognized area for the arts that doesn’t view an individual as a loner but a way of life.

It was during an enlightening conversation over cappuccinos with my dear sister under the sunny, happy-faced (and, okay slightly creepy as if they had ears) sunflowers that towered over us in the café’s garden when it dawned on me. Nostalgia isn’t just homesickness. Nostalgia is evidence
of reality. One I can now appreciate at a whole other level.