Reflections

A Very Best Friend

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Growing up in a house with a very anxious mother wasn’t easy. It affected everything and everybody. While I understand as an adult why things were the way they were, it was difficult as a child living with someone who needed to control just about everything. I didn’t consciously know it then, but I longed for someone in the house I could just `be’ with … without intrusion, always accepting, always comforting, and who’d never give up a secret. And my dog became that someone.

When I was 5, my brother 9, our parents decided we were old enough to have a dog, so at Christmas they gave us a beautiful Boxer puppy. I don’t think either of us quite `got’ the concept of having a dog at Christmas when there were still so many other exciting presents to open and play with. But Tinkerbell, as she was named, was not to stay with us very long. Within a few months she developed epilepsy. I don’t remember seeing the seizures my mother described Tink having on the kitchen floor, with blood and foam spewed all over the room. Perhaps I willed myself to forget. There were no cures for epilepsy back then, and Tinkerbell’s only option was to be returned to spirit. I was so young, and hadn’t become very attached to her yet, I don’t think I completely understood what had happened.

Then our parents got another dog. She was sold to them as a Boxer, 6 months old. I recall my mother being so happy that she didn’t drool like other Boxers whose faces were pushed in. There was a reason for that … she wasn’t really a Boxer. At best, she was a Boxer/pit bull terrier mix. My obedience trainer, when he looked at my childhood photos of her, told me that she was pure, and that was how they bred American Pit Bull Terriers back then. It didn’t matter … she quickly became the best friend and confidante I longed for. Her name was Dutchess. My mom had `officially’ named her Dutchess Von Wiggles because she had a butt that was constantly in happy motion.

Dutch couldn’t sleep with me as she wasn’t allowed on the second floor, so I slept with her whenever I could downstairs. We watched TV together, me resting my head gently on her side; and we curled up in sleep on the living room floor. Dutchess learned all the tricks a dog learns, and loved to go for walks or play outside in the yard. I can honestly say, in a way that only a dog or animal lover would understand, she was everything to me … she was my best friend. I did have a human best friend – happily, I always had friends — and I had my big brother to play with and taunt, but Dutchess was different. She was just what I needed – another soul in the house that simply loved me straight out, no matter what. And I adored her for that.

When I was little, my parents would cover her eyes and ears and I would hide. Then they’d let her go … “Find Jeanne!!” And Dutchess would search every nook and cranny downstairs to see where I was hiding, just bursting into wiggling, wagging joy when she found me. What child doesn’t live for those moments? She made me feel safe in a childhood where feeling emotionally safe wasn’t easy. Dutch was the heart, soul, and embodiment of unconditional love. She was both my rock and my wings, my compass and stars; she was my comfort and confidante. She was one little girl’s very best friend.

* This story was originally posted in 2007, and has been edited and updated.

Music Makes It Better

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It can’t make it all better, but it definitely does make it better.

In the morning, when I settle down to do some follow-up on my recent posts on Instagram; add a couple stories; check in and read recent updates of those I follow; it is largely a very positive experience. Often, in these meanderings, I find new music, posted through one avenue or another.

It’s hard these days to read much, though, without running headlong into posts on IG or Threads of the chaos that is consuming this country. It’s deeply disturbing, beyond saddening. And then I came across this song, Sand Drawing. A beautiful respite.

Judah Earl is a young American composer, arranger, and producer. He plays the cello, and in this song has woven in strains of calm and peace, a refuge from the daily assaults we are now subjected to. I dare say that it has something almost holy about it.

Music somehow always makes it better. I know, because a lifetime of leaning on its shoulders, bowing my head into notes that are timeless, tell me so.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . .

“To be creative means to be in love with life. You can be creative only if you love life enough that you want to enhance its beauty, you want to bring a little more music to it, a little more poetry to it, a little more dance to it.”
~ Osho

Tinicum – the Difference of A Year

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I am very grateful to be invited to be at the Tinicum Arts Festival Author’s Table again this year. I was first invited to participate in July 2022, a month before my book was even released. I had a lighted canvas made up, bookmarks, and handouts to encourage book sales the following month. My wings, of course. And one lone sample book marked “Please do not remove”. It was all I would have for a while.

I loved chatting about my book with all who stopped by, as I did again in 2023. But 2024, invited once more, was a bit of a different story.

Last year’s event was preceded by four months of Jazzy’s slow fall into increasing neurological issues that could not be identified through endless amounts of tests. This culminated in my needing to say my last goodbye to her on the Friday right before my Sunday appearance at the arts festival.

I didn’t want to go. Didn’t know how I could possibly face discussing anything, even my book, with strangers considering the loss of this small, steadfast companion I’d adopted at three, and known and loved for eleven years.

But I went. It was a wonderful distraction. For an hour or so, I lost myself in talking about my book with so many lovely people. When my time was up, I wandered among the vendors, and found these:

No sooner had I paid, than the sky blackened and thunder rumbled in the west. I gathered my book-ish things and made a run for the car, sitting there for 15 minutes in a torrential downpour.

Jazzy was a very opinionated girl. Perhaps she left me with a small token of her love and a farewell to remember.

But the Tinicum Arts Festival … I am completely looking forward to greeting folks, signing books, and talking about writing, butterflies, art, and more on Saturday, July 12th. Please stop by if you’re in the area.

Getting Out of Our Own Way

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I saw this quote from Anne Lamott, and found myself pondering it a bit. it’s so true, and it would seem so easy to just step aside. If it were that easy, I suspect there’s be a whole lot more creative thinking going on in this world.

Speaking for myself, I let my creativity flow how I can, when I can, knowing full well that there are things inside me that want to be said, but not necessarily in words. I am always working on getting out of my own way, because I want to see what’s inside, too.

I love looking at all the fabulous art on Instagram because it inspires me. Then I wonder – because what I see is so amazing (and sometimes AI) – is it possible it also serves to intimidate me?

And I’m reading. I’m halfway through A New Earth by Eckhart Tolle, and I will return to it, but I needed something else. I’m starting Thinking Out Loud by Anna Quindlen. I picked this up at the big library book sale, and although it was written in 1993, Quindlen has a gift for always being timely and relevant. Plus I’ve read a few of her books in the past, currently own one. She’s a good bet.

It’s Memorial Day weekend. In part, I feel like I should be doing something other than what I’m doing, but I’m enjoying some peace, seeing my home shine a little more, writing, reading. Isn’t this the kind of freedom those before us gave their lives to give us? Hope your weekend is going great, too.

Meandering in A Confused World

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One of my small daily pleasures each morning once I’ve fed Charlie and made my coffee is to sit by the living room window and do two things – a perusal of Instagram, a gathering if you will, of positive words, thoughts and images (occasionally my own work), and then sharing them in my Stories. Then I journal to clear out the cobwebs, sort out my challenges, put to paper my joys and angst … whatever the day calls for.

While on IG, I always hope that whoever stops by gains some benefit from what I post. We know, vaguely, how the algorithms work; you get more of what you like (almost a corollary of karma, right?), and therefore, I find vast amounts of insight, positivity, and beauty. Some mornings, when I open the app, I am greeted with exactly what I need to know for that day. Because I do believe the Universe works that way.

Sometimes I share things like this, courtesy of @spiritualgoal –

Sometimes I post things I’ve been doing, like the gecko drawing above, or how I’ve redesigned my picture book, Where Do Butterflies Go at Night? 2nd Edition. (You can read that in detail here.)

But mostly, I’m sharing insights, inspiration, and the beauty of life.

Inevitably, while I scroll, I come across other things, often in Threads, about our current political circumstances. And sometimes, I drop in and read, because most of what’s really happening is on social nowadays, not the mainstream media. I find life – mental and emotional life – is a balancing act of trying to remain informed and at the same time, keeping my sanity.

It’s why the positivity is so important. Knowing, remembering, how important we are in the larger scheme of things. Even just being centered and loving in this world is a huge contribution. Holding the place of love.

And sometimes I create my own memes. This one’s for you. Just keep holding that light up high.