Love

And so it begins …

/ still a dreamer / 6 Comments

The end of the Thanksgiving weekend, and it all goes into full swing. For all the things I both want and need to do, this is my goal:

But rarely how it ends up. I’m an organized person, but somehow all that I have to do for the holidays still sneaks up on me, and I am immediately overwhelmed. It’s not just the personal cards and gifts and plans that I have in front of me, but what should be one of the busiest times of the year business-wise is looking me square in the eye as well.

I should have already done more to get my Etsy shop noticed, but this year, I’ve been working on self-publishing my beautiful picture book, Where Do Butterflies Go at Night?. Sadly, the small company that published it went out of business and recycled all copies. I decided to invest the money and purchase the gorgeous original art and the rights; I just couldn’t see my first published book disappearing off the face of the earth. I’m working hard to reformat the entire book (particularly all the artwork), into a size used by self-publishing platforms, as they don’t offer the original published size. Tick, tock, can I get it up on Amazon in time for holiday sales?

Or for my other commitment, as a vendor at the Christmas Market in my own town? Everything seems like it should take an hour or two, and that’s never the case. And then there’s this guy …

You couldn’t ask for sweeter, but Charlie experienced a traumatic event earlier in the year. Too long a story, but he has PTSD, and it expresses itself in his obsessively moving things, pulling things, breaking things. Imagine a cat in a new home expressing his natural curiosity in everything, and then crank it up to mach-speed. With patience, strategic re-arrangement of furniture, and the help of some flower remedies in his water, he’s calming down. I’m surviving, always loving him, but there have been days …

And so the holidays begin. Still aiming for that goal above.

Hoping your holidays are calm and (relatively) stress-free!

Press Play

/ still a dreamer / 4 Comments

Everything is change. The secret is still love and kindness.
And we’re here to press play.

There are so many negative, non-loving, hateful energies in play right now. But still, the only way through is love, kindness, respect. Let’s keep pressing Play.

Walking Jazzy Home

/ still a dreamer / 12 Comments

We walked together for so many years – she, the Princess, and me, her happy minion – until the day when I walked her home. R.I. P. Jazzy – 7/12/24 – a small art treasure in feline form.

There is never a “good time” or a “good way” to lose an animal you love. It’s always awful. I think one of the worst moments is when you come home, and the spot they always sat to welcome you has no one there.

I adopted Jazzy at 3 years old, back in August, 2013, a few weeks after my handsome Claude passed over. She was a featured kitty at my local pet food shop, looking for a home, and she found mine. She had lived with an elderly man, who, I surmised, had not handled her very much. After getting through an adjustment period, she was not the cuddly cat my previous cats had been, albeit adorable.

Over the years that followed, she became increasingly affectionate, though I can say, she was the most dominant cat I have ever had. It was “her way or the highway” in kitty form – a picky eater, wouldn’t use a hooded litter box, and was pretty sure that I should plan meals and any other activities around her whims. Luckily, she was also sweet and charming, and now cuddly.

Perhaps a year or two ago, her glucose was high; we successfully controlled it with a special diet. Then her thyroid became hyperactive – more meds, which she was very cooperative in taking. Things kept moving along pretty well until about 6+ weeks ago, when she began caterwauling one or two times in the middle of the night.

I followed through with all needed lab tests, but they revealed nothing abnormal. Essentially, she was in good health, except somewhere inside her, she wasn’t. This past Friday, 7/12/2024, I noticed Jazzy acting strangely. I rushed her to the vet, and it soon became apparent, there was only going to be one ending to this story.

I am always grateful that I have been able to see something going wrong and to be able to do something about it before it became too late. I am grateful that there has always been a vet to help my animals in their final moments on Earth. I am also always grateful that I have been able to hold my animals in my arms, and help them pass over peacefully, loved until the end. I am grateful for Jazzy, and all the sweetness and light she brought into my life. I don’t think I could ask for more.

Self-Discipline Is Self-Care

/ still a dreamer / 2 Comments

The word ‘deadlines’ has gotten a bad reputation, perhaps because in many circumstances, they are imposed from without. But when we set up our own, deadlines really are a form of self-care.

Without deadlines, we can be at the mercy of our emotions and lose valuable time. Not the kind of deadlines that make us crazy, but reasonable time frames to help us accomplish our goals.

There have been times in my life where I have elevated procrastination to the level of high art. And while I can be very creative in how I avoid facing certain tasks, in the end, it only makes me feel less accomplished and less successful, as they still sit patiently waiting for me.

In my experience, procrastination around my creative work always boils down to fear – fear that it won’t be “good enough”, that I won’t be able to execute what I am envisioning, that I could have done more. There are so many things wrong with those thoughts. The bottom line is that we all still feel better when we do what we need to do.

That’s why looking at deadlines/self-discipline in a different way makes so much more sense. Striving to set and meet goals means loving ourselves more. And not to be trite, but we’re worth it.

I still may struggle at times, but deadlines=loving myself is where I’m headed. How about you?

Still Time for A Love Poem

/ still a dreamer / 6 Comments

We are in February’s final days, but there’s still time to celebrate love. I had somehow never heard of Rabindranath Tagore, the poet, before last year. Here is one of his many beautiful poems about love.

But It Is Love

Your questioning eyes are sad.
They seek to know my meaning as
the moon would fathom the sea.
I have bared my life before your eyes
from end to end, with nothing hidden or held back.
That is why you know me not.

If it were only a gem I could break it into a hundred pieces
and string them into a chain to put on your neck.
If it were only a flower,
round and small and sweet, I could
pluck it from its stem to set it in your hair.

But it is a heart, my beloved.
Where are its shores and its bottom?

You know not the limits of this kingdom,
still you are its queen.
If it were only a moment of pleasure
it would flower in an easy smile,
and you could see it and read it in a moment.
If it were merely a pain it would melt in limpid tears,
reflecting its inmost secret without a word.

But it is love, my beloved.
Its pleasure and pain are boundless,
and endless its wants and wealth.
It is as near to you as your life,
but you can never wholly knowit.

I hope love, beauty, and the gift of wonder have touched you this February.