Decisions . . . decisions!

(This was written in July, 2010, during Y’s illness.)

My mind was in turmoil again. Do I still want to publish my first novel, The Marriage Bundle? Is it the right timing now? Do I even want to publish it, ever? Maybe no one will like it! Then I've wasted all this time and money on something as pure foolishness. Maybe they’ll like it and try to find me and ask me for more than I can give them, especially now that time is so precious with my husband. What if I can't get enough advertising, and no one even knows it's out there? How can I pay back the loan if I don't publish and sell the book? What do I do about the people I've already told if I don't publish it? Around and around, again and again.

Talking to my wise web mistress helped, as she pointed out, “We are all being asked to step forward with our gifts, to be all we can be, to take the chance of exposure, surround ourselves with like-minded people, and trust in the powers that be.”

So I heard her, but her words didn't diminish my questions. I've stepped out before, by becoming a Reiki master and then a Universal Life Church Minister and self-publishing a Reiki Book and doing other ceremonies and seminars. Never have I had so much pressure at home though. Surely what I've accomplished so far is enough, but these books seem special: 'Inspirational, New Age Fiction,' they're called. The teachings inside weren't meant for me alone. So I dither and procrastinate, then dither some more, a habit I'm well known for doing.

In the middle of this muddle, I closed down the computer and collected the fresh laundry off the clothes line (lovingly known as the solar dryer). I'd already swept the floors twice that day and watered everything in the garden and green house. As I descended the stairs from the upper yard to the back door, a butterfly caught my attention. Flitting and fluttering in front of me, it reminded me of me. It just flew in circle after circle, until I prayed it would find a purchase, some place to land. I grew exhausted just watching it, so when it finally hung upside down under the eave, I breathed a sigh of relief. It had committed to some place of calm. And these words came to me: “Commit yourself to your path, and you will feel the calm of attaining some kind of resolution. Even if you feel upside down, you've reached a place of quiet. You can go from this point, which is at least somewhere.”

The butterfly then wiggled until it was upright. With a quick hop to the window frame, it gradually opened its large wing span and became still, never even budging when I walked past it and into the house. Putting the clothes away, I had to admit I had an answer.

It's like that sometimes for me. I stew about a problem I'm having until I let go and watch the world around me. Every time I allow my attention to shift from inside myself to outside my brain, I receive a teaching from the critters or in a conversation with a friend. My conversations are like meditations where I discover another form of connection to the 'all that is' and find peace and inspiration.

Looks like it happened again. “Commit to something and see,” are the words I remembered. I have to ask myself, “What's the worst that can happen?” Lose the rest of the money I've borrowed without having a product to sell or giving away the books and finding another way to pay back the money are two answers. Can I live with those possibilities? If that's the worst, either way, then yes I can.

So I'm deciding to go ahead with the publishing contract, to go for it and try my best. I'll never be happy if I don't at least try to offer these books to the world.

I am at peace and grateful.

Being Too Thrifty

Being thrifty has become a way of life for me. Looking through Cold Creek and other high end clothing catalogs gives me ideas of how to put together certain 'looks'. I get caught up in these dreams sometimes, only to discover the assembly of color and style look good only on a slim, trim figure, not my apple-shaped 65-year-old form.

Using and reusing plastic bags were the bane of my husband's dish washing chore. He flatly refused to wash aluminum foil anymore but suffered through all sizes of bags until they would either leak or not close.

His own thriftiness left me with piles of partially used lumber, boxes of electrical wire, plumbing parts, nails, screws, washes, and 'whatzudoozers' that might be used for some kind of project about which I have no idea.

We'd been talking about downsizing. Thank goodness we spent two weeks over two years ago clearing out ¼ of the metal building so the kids could have storage space during a move. Now I have a staging area for more 'stuff' to recycle, sell, or dump.

The reality that I might not need to be as thrifty with food as I have been was brought home recently. I have a habit of using the last dabs of anything to create something else. My kids dubbed my left over casseroles as Earlene's ETEs (Extraterrestrial Experiences). Everyone of them could never be repeated because they were based on the left over portions of what we'd eaten for the preceding three to four days.

I kept this habit long after everyone left home and was continuing it after Y passed away. So many wonderful soups and stews came my way. I couldn't throw out a thing until one day I detected a suspicious smell coming out of one 'reused' bag.

I knew I shouldn't eat it so I took it outside for whatever animal it might serve.

In about 10 minutes, I turned at the sound of heavy wings flapping in the yard.

Three vultures were perched, each on separate metal fence posts, watching a fourth try my concoction. They then vied to be the one to finish the last morsel.

I'll be setting uneaten food out a lot sooner from now on.