No… I Wasn’t Eaten by Dragons, But Close!

Thar be dragons

The rumors of my demise have been greatly exaggerated ~ Mark Twain

When I first started Life, It’s a Work in Progress, I had all these insane dreams of how things were going to go. For example, I was going to post twice a week, on Tuesdays and Thursdays, without fail. After all, I’d actually like to build a readership and everyone knows you have to post on a regular schedule to do that. Otherwise readers get upset and go elsewhere, right?

Right.

In fact, my current site data tells me visitors disappear on the days I don’t post and take a week or two to come back. So, overall, keeping a schedule was a darn good idea. Right? Right. But.

Ah, yes. The well worn, often used, much smudged “but,” followed quickly by “life happens.” Continue reading

Unconditional Love: The Choices We Make…

flowers-field

I went and got my feelings hurt today because of a careless remark about a tattoo of mine. It’s the first time I’ve ever ended a conversation with my best friend feeling… well, less than beautiful. I wanted to cry. I wanted to smack them. Their words hurt, and it was about something I can’t change.

I’ve had this tattoo for over half my life – so long, in fact, that I barely notice it now. It’s just a part of me. And I think that’s what hurt. It felt, on some deep down level, that I had been rejected. This is someone who genuinely cares about me and is one of the most loving people I know. I knew better, and yet it still hurt.

As I’m dwelling on this, trying to swallow the hurt I know wasn’t intentionally inflicted, I got to thinking. This, as some of you know, is quite dangerous for me to do. And yet, sometimes, a little clarity and understanding comes out of it… Continue reading

Finding the Real “Me” in a Multitude of Faces

Pulled in all directions...

Have you ever felt pulled in more than one direction at the same time? Of course you have. You’re eating breakfast, really enjoying that egg and toast, and your four-year-old says, “Mommy, I broke it.” That’s all they have to say before your previously tasty breakfast might as well be day-old grass.

Congratulations. You’ve moved from “woman refueling her system to face a busy day” to “Most High Inquisitor, ferreting out ne’er do wells”.

As a parent, you get to play many parts: peacemaker, disciplinary, live jungle gym…After you’ve been a parent for awhile, switching back and forth across these many faces becomes as easy and natural as breathing. Continue reading

Mary, Mary, Quite Contrary, How Does Your Garden Grow?

The difference between a flower and a weed is how much the plant is wanted.

I’m convinced pretty much anything can be a metaphor for life’s experiences. I’m also convinced pretty much anything can be positive or negative, depending on one’s outlook at the time. In fact, as I once wrote, I’m sure our reality changes depending on… well… us.

Take, for instance, a garden. If your life were a garden, what would you be growing? Weeds? Flowers? Vegetables? A haven for critters? Continue reading

Hope and Hopelessness: Finding Your Motivation

Motivation quoteHope… it’s such a crystalline word, isn’t it? It seems so fragile and so easily destroyed. Looking back over my life, I can see times when hope seemed so far away as to be nonexistent, and times when I burned brightly with it. I’ve been wondering what makes the difference between hope and hopelessness, and I think I finally have the answer. Continue reading

With Lessons in Self Control, I’m a D Student

Wow… this week started with a bang in the “no self control” department. Anger and I have been friends for a long time, but it’s been awhile since it’s visited so frequently. Of course, the fact that we’ve been hanging out again is probably due to anger’s co-conspirator, frustration, as well as a healthy visit by insomnia (which, by the way, still refuses to leave).

Let me tell you, frustration and lack of sleep are not conducive to a peaceful attitude. I woke up Monday morning growling, and didn’t stop growling for several hours. A seriously intense conversation with myself was as futile as picking dandelions one by one to get them out of your yard. They just grow back and multiply. Continue reading

The Time Has Come, The Walrus Said…

At the end of the road less traveled... (Snake River, Wyoming, taken by Jahnelle Pittman)

‘The time has come,’ the Walrus said,’ to talk of many things, of shoes and ships and sealing wax, and cabbages and kings…’

Lewis Carroll, The Walrus and the Carpenter

Poetry. The only thing that pulls more emotion from me is music. I love poetry and prose. The type of poetry I enjoy most rhymes. It has a beat to it – a staccato rhythm that beats with my heart, wakes it up and makes it feel. Poetry feeds emotion without the need of music; it’s pure, unadulterated language. Ah, to laugh, to love, to live – is poetry… Continue reading