My son just graduated from high school. A great accomplishment. But as we all know, it is just the beginning of “it” all. Now he has the agonizing pain & joy of figuring out what it is he wants to do with his life. I wish I could tell him how to do it, but I still haven’t figured it out. Have you?

Find your passion! No one ever said that to me when I was graduating. I just kind of pushed along and did what it took to get a job, pay the bills, make a living. My major in college was a stepping stone for “a” job. Not “thee” job that would make me happy. Had someone told me, Find your passion, maybe my life would have looked different. “I could of been a contender!” Or a doctor, or even a writer!

I am just now, he-hem, at the ripe age that I am, finding my passion. It isn’t necessarily tied to money, or career. I would like it to be, but I am much toooooo practical to think that I could make a living loving what I do. That was never a part of my upbringing. But recently I have been editing my book(s), and I think I have finally discovered what this “passion” is that everyone is talking about.

After a week long isolation in my office, I surfaced Friday morning with an exhilaration I had forgotten. I wasn’t finished with my edits, but I was excited, almost giddy to start the day and continue. I woke up, happy! I was excited to get back into the writing. I smiled every where I went, and I even walked into an appointment singing.

“Boy, someone is happy,”my appointment person said.

“Yes, I am,” I proudly remarked. YES, I AM!

It made me pause and realize, I think I have truly found my passion.

I have done a lot. No, really! I have done a lot of different things. Hobbies and work alike. They call me The Renaissance Woman, and The MacGyver of all trades! I have worked in the business world for over twenty years doing sales, marketing, and management. Then started up a gardening design business for a few years, which moved into a home accessories’s business, and now I am doing interior design. Simultaneously, I am writing. My husband claims I am not focused and never “finish” anything. Okay, he may want to say I don’t stay focused,  (I think the word was flaky, but let us not quibble over words!) But I think I was just following my interests that ultimately found my passion. He teases that my writing is just another “hobby.” (Do you see me smirking???? And not in a good way!) But what I feel when I am writing is far beyond a hobby. It is exhilarating; joyous beyond words! It is fulfilling me in ways I never knew was possible for a human being. It makes me content. I feel passion! So, even it is a hobby, a trade, or both, the fact that I found it…well, mission accomplished. Now the “work” begins. Start indulging in it. Get better, do it,  become as good as I can, and hopefully share it with the world. Make it happen and don’t stop until my dying breath. Live it.

Yay me!

It may have taken a few years to get here. Do I tell my son that? Life…that the journey of finding out what drives you, who you are, and finding out what makes you excited is a mixture of the mundane & the excitement of exploring. Some, who are lucky, do find their passion early. But most of us, it is a long road and accumulation of all that you experience. What is that George Bernard Shaw said, “Youth is wasted on the young?” I say, “Life is wasted on the young…or until you find you passion!”

What is your passion? Let me know. Until then, I say to my son, get out there and start searching. It is never too early to find it! But it is never too late either.

Life is funny…well, not really. It is not funny at all. It is just plain hard at times. And just when you think it is hard, it has a way of knocking you down even further. Just to remind you that it isn’t funny! Whose idea is this????

Don’t get me wrong. I have a good life. I am blessed. I am not hungry. I have a nice roof over my head. I have family and friends that love me… most of the time. I have my health. I live in America where freedom is still the lay of the land, or until the Liberals have their way with it. (Yes, that was a political dig. Just having some fun with you!!) But for the most part, my life is good. But that doesn’t mean it is not hard, or I don’t have very difficult struggles to deal with. See, that is the thing. We all have “things” to deal with. NO ONE’s life is picture perfect and easy. Everyone, no matter what you see on Facebook or Instagram, has their hardship. Well, because, life is hard!

Life isn’t funny, fun, easy, or fair. It is a journey of our souls to explore, develop, grow, learn, and ultimately become better, kinder, human beings in this evolution of humanity, and hopefully fulfill our purpose. Life is experiential.  It is not a means to an end. It is the “means” that we must relish. Are we missing this as humans? Yes, yes we are. But that doesn’t mean that you have to.

I sometimes get caught up in the “world” a little too much. Not that you shouldn’t care about humanity and what goes on around us. But, I sometimes forget about this moment…this life that I am living in the here and now. Judging it against what I have done, and where I might go. I forget about my life, in the here and now. My own soul and its purpose seems to get caught up in the what I didn’t do, and will I do what I am suppose to do before I die.

So how what does this have to do with writing? I’m getting to that!!

Like so many days, I got another rejection letter. This one was quick. Sent it out yesterday early evening, and got a turn around this morning. Whew! Didn’t even have time to have hope! (They seem to come more quickly these days.) I even wonder if someone is actually reading them. As soon as it said, “upmarket fiction” or “set in Victorian England” it was dumped! Okay, so I am not right for that agent. Move on! Or do I? Nope, for about an hour I let the rejection flow through my blood, eating away at the sand tower of what I call confidence. You know, the one as soon as someone steps on it, it caves onto the ground? Then you have to push up the sides slowly, packing in the sand again, higher and higher until you have the mound high enough to claim it a hill again? That is the confidence of a writer!

But here is the thing. I am a writer. I am not going to ever stop being a writer. I thrive writing, am good at it, and it makes me happy; fulfilled. I need to enjoy this immediate “thing” in my life, outside of what was, or what will become of it. That rejection is no way is going to stop me from continuing to write. That rejection doesn’t define me as a writer today. That rejection will have no effect on what may happen in the future. So why do I give it so much power of what I am doing today? Today I continue to write, develop, grow, and become better. It brings me happiness and fulfillment in a life that is filled with hardships. I feel like I am fulfilling my soul’s purpose. Why would I waste another moment on that rejection???? To become a published author is difficult; a lottery win. It can be daunting and overwhelming. The road to get there can be long and filled with hundreds of bumps along the way, and even more so when you actually get there. So, what does that mean? Do I stop? Do I roll over and claim failure?

I wish we could all go through life with a better sense of identity. How much more would we cherish each day? Life does not always seem blissful in retrospect, or even in day to day living. Looking forward can be daunting. But that is only because we put so much weight into thinking about it. And quite honestly, it is so wasteful of our time when we can’t change the past and have no idea what tomorrow may bring. If we would just settle down and take each moment as the purpose of living, and not just the road we are traveling on, it might look a little different when we look out the window.

Again, I am no Zen master. (Just been reading Eckert Tolle lately…) I am human like the rest. I fall into the trap of shame and questioning self worth just like the rest of you. (Have you read my poems???) Being a writer, or any artist, puts us at even more risk of this behavior. But then I am reminded, “Stop that!”  We all need to be reminded that our lives are valuable, our purpose is ever changing, and the journey to get there is reason we are here.

So, today, I write. I write because I love it. I write because it fulfills me. I write because I need to. It is there for anyone who wants to see it, reject it, or ignore it. But it is still going to be there. My success or failure of writing should not be defined by others. It really should be defined by me. I know, I am my hardest critic. Aren’t most of us. But we must remember that our lives are not defined by our past, or our future, but what is right in the moment of what we do with it right here, right now. Today I write. Today I call myself a writer. A rejected one, but a writer all the same.

Enjoy today!

(Salvador Dali)

Well, it has been a long while since you have ‘heard’ from me. That is, I have been consumed with writing poetry and Writerdeeva has been taken over by prose. Surprisingly, my blog has become more popular since.

Hmmmmmmmmm…

What? You don’t like my thoughts? That could be an insult. But I am not taking it that way. I am a little thrilled to know that my poetry has had an emotional affect on readers. Well, that may be pushing it. My poetry has touched people. Okay, exaggerating too much? Let me try this again. My poetry is of interest to people. Better? I think the most repeated comment I have gotten is, “Your poems are so sad.”

Really?

I am not a sad person, so this takes me by surprise. I consider myself quite chipper! Either I am channeling someone else, or I am a much layered person inside. I will go with the second choice. It makes me sound soooo artistic! (Don’t worry, I’ll get over myself with the next rejection letter. By tomorrow afternoon my sense of self importance will be gone.) A little part of me is giddy that I have this ability to move people, even if it is to the point of depression. (I know, I have a sick, sick mind.) And I guess, I write these poems because they are so different from the person that I show. Then the question begs, is not this method of writing showing ‘me’, just a different side?

Gosh, gee, Wally….

And there it is: Vulnerability! Something I have not wanted to show. Damn it! Novel writing I can hide. I can create a world, characters, situations that have no resemblance of me or my life. (Again people….NO, THE SEX SCENES IN MY NOVELS ARE NOT FROM EXPERIENCE!) But poems? There is nowhere to hide. So few words that say so much. So few words that mean so much.

I am naked.

Now, being naked isn’t a bad thing, if I was twenty with perfect legs, perky breasts, and a cute butt. (As I have never been all that, I am fast forwarding…) But being naked, at my age, is not what people want to see. I am not sure I want to see!  All that exposure is so scary. What if someone truly understands my words, my emotions, my meaning???? God help that person! (Seriously!!) But what if? What age has given me is this answer: So what! Hence why I can be naked. Isn’t that the point of poetry? To expose the deep layers of our lives, to see a reflection of ourselves, so that we become more human and connected?

Whoa….too deep?

I am new to poetry. I have tapped into something that I can’t seem to turn off. It is growing each day and I am exhilarated. It has allowed me to open up in ways that I didn’t think I was capable. I have discovered words in a whole knew light, appreciating each meaning and inuendo. It makes me pause and observe the world differently. It is making me a better novelist. It is allowing the artist in me.

I am a Poet! (Who knew!)

I laughed the other day when someone said, “you are a writer and a poet.”  Okay…if that is what you want to label it. I just never thought to call myself that. But I guess I am if I am writing poetry. No doubt, not all think of me with such a lofty title. I have gotten feedback like, “that was interesting,” or “why do you write those things?” But when people say I moved them, I cannot help but feel honored to be so connected to someone else emotionally. It is a ‘wow’ moment and I feel accomplished as a writer.

(If you haven’t read my poetry, check out my past blogs!)