Write with TLC

Todd helping me meditate. Recently, I participated in the latest Deepak Chopra/Oprah Meditation Experience , Become What You Believe. I've enjoyed these experiences in the past because they have the meditation and then probing questions that push me to challenge my preconceptions about myself; however this one annoyed the hell out of me. Every time I got to the questions, I wanted to shout "I am NOT broken, damn it." My answers  became shorter and shorter and felt more and more forced as the experience progressed. I felt like it was trying to force me to be broken when I in no way felt broken. There is so much out there that pushes us to examine what's "broken" about us to fix ourselves, to be better, to fit someone else's definition of how we should live. Frankly, I'm tired of it. It's an old trope and is often, but not always, targeted toward women. Interesting, isn't it? The more equality we seek, the more we're told we nee...

A couple of months ago, a poet friend, Ariel, posted a blog titled Help a Sister Out? in which she inquires whether to continue to submit her work and wait for others to decide if it should be shared with the world or to blog her poems and risk them being ineligible for many traditional publication outlets. She mentioned that she doesn't think she has enough credits to start publishing chapbooks. I started to respond but decided to give it some thought first. Over the intervening weeks, I've given her query quite a bit of thought. In answer to her quandary, I'm going to share a bit about my writing journey. When I decided to take my writing career into my own hands, I knew the risk I was taking. I really did; however, I wanted my career to be my own. My message was more important to me than fame. Staying true to my vision was more important to me than bestseller lists. Frankly, I'd rather share my work with people than struggle to impress the gatekeepers. ...

Kit being patient while I interrupt her brushing to take pictures Kit loves to be brushed. Last week I was brushing Kit, and she asked, in her own special way to be petted, a rare occurrence for her. As my independent girl melted against my hand, her entire body relaxing, an d her purrs growing louder my mind drifted back to when she became part of our family. December 7, 2015 marks the 7th anniversary of Kit becoming part of our family. It feels like she's always been here and like she just arrived all at once. I thought a bit about her story... The first time I saw her, she was scrunched up as close as she could get to our sliding glass door on a cold, rainy Autumn evening as Loay came in from his woodworking shop in the garage. He told me in no uncertain terms that I was not to let her in because she needed to go home. See, in the past I'd been guilty of occasionally letting a cat stay with us until I found its home.  Once I even fed a baby raccoon I was con...