Tag: Mark Twain

Tuesday Tidbits in Still January

+ “When you wake up tomorrow, it’ll still be January.” @ProfAlang, X

“genuine question, how is it still january?” @eosinlove, X

“We are 6 months into 2024 and it’s still January.” @hashjenni, X

“why is it still January. i’ve lived several lives this month” @milkygoddess, X

“Why is it still January? Let’s pack it up babe” @witti_indi, X

I’ve been noticing the remarks about this seemingly long January, particularly in the last few days. Honestly, January has been a good, satisfying month for me, but even still, it does feel sort of never-ending. Don’t the holidays seem like forever and a day ago??

+ “If the first thing you do each morning is to eat a live frog, you can go through the day with the satisfaction of knowing that that is probably the worst thing that is going to happen to you all day long.” – Mark Twain

This has been shortened into the statement: “Eat a frog.” The point is, get the tasks which you have been dreading, done and over with, and then you can enjoy the rest of your day and even your week, with ease. Hopefully, reading my blog is not your “eat a frog” moment. My blog is conceivably more of a delicious little Dove heart – just a tiny, harmless, happy break in your day. A spoonful of sugar, makes the frog go down.

+ “You are, in a general, low-key, ambient way, concerned about the whereabouts of your people at all times. You rather enjoy having a corner of your mind occupied in this way because it reminds you that you love and are loved.” – Holiday Mathis

This was one of my horoscopes this morning. It brought a smile to my face. It was one of those “I never thought of it that way” moments for me. I would say this is a true statement for me every day of my life. Maybe we worry about our people for the pure little prickling reminder to ourselves, that we love, and we are loved. We like to keep tabs on our love. I’m happy to dedicate at least a corner of my mind to my great loves. I just have to remember to show my love in the form of confidence, and not in worry.

Are you passing on love or are you passing on pain? Heal your pain and pass on love.

Here is the question of the day from 3000 Questions About Me:

910. What is your favorite outfit?

What a Writer Wants

I saw this quote on Twitter today and I thought, “Wow, I do love Nicole Lyons because she just so eloquently expressed the hopes of most of us writers.” When I think of who I would love to have met in person from the past, Mark Twain always comes to mind and even Oscar Wilde. I so admire clever writers. When I am watching a movie or reading a book or even noticing a fun quote from Twitter, and I see a line that just says exactly how I feel in the most relevant, interesting, “damn, you just captivated that enormous feeling and sensation in one simple, profound sentence”, I am in perfect awe.

I wonder if we would be disappointed by our favorite authors, though. Comedians are often the most depressed people among us. (probably because they are so good at pinpointing all of the absurdities of life that the rest of us so blissfully ignore) They aren’t always “on” and I think that comedians often resent their own humorous talents for the expectations that these innate gifts create. I believe that most of us who love to write are introverts. I, myself, am an extremely friendly introvert. People don’t believe that I am an introvert because I’m friendly and “perky”. But I am a friendly, perky person who likes to spend a lot of her time with her friendly, perky self. I express myself much better when I write. My mind is always on overdrive so that when I speak, I think that what I say, often comes out kind of confusing and jumbled and ditzy and regrettably, many times, too direct. But when I write, I understand myself distinctly. When I write, I discover my most authentic, vulnerable self. So, it is true, as Nicole Lyons states, that when I write, I share my barest soul with you, my beloved readers. Thank you for treating it so kindly and respectfully.

A. A. Milne Quote: A writer wants something more than money for his work: he wants permanence.
The writer wants to be understood much more than he wants to be respec... Quote by Leo. C Rosten - QuotesLyfe

Are you passing on love or are you passing on pain? Heal your pain and pass on love.

For the Love of Dogs

I messed around with this picture that my husband sent to the family chat this morning, as best that I could. I am always cognizant of protecting my family’s privacy. My family and my friends are kind and loving enough to indulge my need/inclination/passion/desire to write about our family and my friends and our experiences, on a public forum. My form and style of writing is called “confessional writing.” As a private person myself (believe it or not), I don’t take their kindness and gratuitousness for granted.

The above picture is one of our dogs, Ralphie, giving some morning love to our eldest son. Our eldest is a professional who lives in a different state. Our son was already in college when when we got Ralphie, as a puppy. Our son has lived on his own for many years now. And yet Ralphie unabashedly adores our son. Ralphie has this lavish, overflowing way of showing our son how excited our entire family is to have him home for the holidays, with his constant exuberant outpouring of adoration. Ralphie honestly cherishes all of us, and no one could ever question that fact. My friend recently brought up the old proverb, “Actions speak louder than words.” My other friend made the point that this can be read in a positive sense, too. You can show people how much you love them without ever saying it. Ralphie doesn’t have words, but his actions speak volumes. So many of us love dogs, because dogs have absolutely no shame about their love and loyalty. They don’t judge us. They don’t ask us to change. They don’t shame us. Dogs just love, like no other being on this earth. Dogs love. As they say, “Dog is God spelled backwards.”

dog quote twain

Are you passing on love or are you passing on pain? Heal your pain and pass on love.

Tortured Artists

“Putting a creation into the world is asking to be understood and loved. The answer is not always yes.” – Allison Moorer

Allison Moorer is a country singer and song writer, but she is also an amazing memoirist. Shelby Lynne, also a country singer, is her sister. I recently read Allison Moorer’s memoir, Blood, which describes the tragedy of her alcoholic father shooting the girls’ mother, and then himself, in their front yard, when both ladies were still teenagers. It was a hard, emotional read, but Moorer’s writing is so pure and fearless and insightful. I enjoyed the book, immensely, despite its devastating content.

In an interview, Moorer claims that she would have been an artist, even if she hadn’t come from such a dysfunctional background, but the art would have been different. She says this: “I don’t think my art would have had as many teeth as it does. I don’t think you have to necessarily suffer to make great art, but the truth is that most great art is born of it.”

It is Aldous Huxley, the author of A Brave New World, who is credited with the idea that all great art is born of suffering. And there are so many examples to support that idea. When I was in college, I took an Art History class. The professor kept us enticed, by promising the class, that if we first paid attention to the artists’ various styles, techniques and designs, she promised to give us the dish on their crazy, dramatic, and often depressing life stories. The stories which she told us, about the various artists’ lives were much more interesting, than any soap opera that we were hoping to hurry home to watch. As Mark Twain said, “Truth is stranger than fiction.”

I have given this idea of great art being tied to suffering, a lot of thought. There is no one whom I know, who has never suffered any heartache. There might be degrees of heartache, different levels of heaviness which we could put up for debate, but in the end, pain is pain. And pain is a part of living a life. It seems to me, that many artists, whether fearless or compulsive, have a drive to explore their pain, in order to make something beautiful and meaningful, come out of it. I don’t think that the great artists, and singers, and writers and other creatives necessarily suffer more than anyone else does. It’s just that they aren’t afraid to explore that suffering. When we open ourselves up to reach in and to pull out our deepest creativity, we also offer up to the world, our most profound vulnerability. And that is terrifying. What is more naked than the total baring of your soul?

I have painful experiences which have occurred in my life that I don’t choose to write about. They’re too hot to the touch. I may never write about certain elements of my life and that’s okay. But I’d be incredibly naive to think that my writing, my expressing, and my overall “being” doesn’t have any sparks and tears and echoes of all of my own life’s experiences, even the heaviest, heartbreaking ones.

I don’t think that all great artists can be lumped in as hypersensitive, addiction-riddled depressives, with wrecked up lives. I honestly think that our greatest artists are among the bravest people in the world. They aren’t afraid of the truth. They have nothing to prove to anyone. Oftentimes, great artists are alchemists who go full into their pain, with a strong desire to make something beautiful, enduring, and universally understood, out of their own deepest, inner turmoil. And we all benefit greatly from their courageous attempt to transform their pain into love, as a gift from themselves that they generously and boldly share with the world. We have museums, and libraries, and record charts, and theaters filled with people’s deepest expressions of their fullest selves, and we treasure these gifts. These treasures are reminders of the force of creativity, that is the true essence of all that is.

255 DUTCH ARTISTS ideas | dutch artists, art, dutch painters

Are you passing on love or are you passing on pain? Heal your pain and pass on love.

Time for a Lettuce Cleanse

This past weekend I got a reminder of how much I love certain gastro-perfections that I had retired due to over-gorging in the past. On our Saturday night date night, my husband and I stopped at a frozen yogurt spot for dessert. I covered my dollop of yogurt with the equivalence of probably about three Reese’s peanut butter cups and a bag of almonds. The overall concoction was divine. We hadn’t been out for fro-yo all summer and I had forgotten what I was missing. I’m sure I’ll be headed back there . . . . later this afternoon.

Yesterday, we drove my daughter to a summer tennis camp several hours away, and she brought along microwave popcorn. I think I retired microwave popcorn after spending hours scouring my microwave and burning a hole in my stomach with Aleve, afterwards. I was trying to get rid of the soreness in my muscles that happened as I tried to remove the burnt popcorn smell from the permanent built-in fixture that our microwave is, in our kitchen. However, all it took was just one handful of the perfectly salted fluffy delight, for me to realize that microwave popcorn is going right back on to our snack menu. Immediately. Stat.

At lunch yesterday, I ordered boom-boom sweet chili shrimp. I used to get that concoction about bi-weekly from a local restaurant, for lunch. I ate so much of it, that eventually just a waft of its smell, would make me physically sick. I haven’t had boom-boom shrimp in years. After yesterday’s lunch, I think I will be getting back to my bi-weekly schedule. I had forgotten what a food-gasm, boom-boom shrimp is for me.

Am I the only one who gorges on food that I love until I hate it? I probably have eaten enough Chicken Parmesan for three lifetimes and I rarely give it a time-out. But every once in a while, I do put it on a menu choice hiatus. I believe in the statement “all things in moderation”, but in practice, with foods that I love, moderation gets thrown out the window, until gluttony sets in, and I take a lettuce cleanse. I eat so much of something that I love, that I swear I’ll never eat it again, but then I have a weekend, like this past weekend, full of delicious reminders and the cycle starts all over again.

“There is no sincerer love than the love of food.” -George Bernard Shaw

“The secret of success in life is to eat what you like and let the food fight it out inside.” -Mark Twain

“My weaknesses have always been food and men — in that order.” – Dolly Parton


“The only time to eat diet food is while you’re waiting for the steak to cook.” -Julia Child

Explore. Dream. Discover.

I’m heading home now from my magical weekend.  The place that I visited was on my bucket list for deeply personal and spiritual reasons.  It exceeded my expectations in all regards and has brought a sense of wholeness to that part of my being that has always yearned to experience this spot, from my family history.  

I used to hate the term “bucket list” but now I am inspired by it.  As I have gotten older and wiser, everything in my life has become more meaningful and pertinent.  Everything.  The maturity and ripeness that comes with middle age, brings everything to a more full-color appreciation and for that, I am truly grateful. 

“Twenty years from now you will be more disappointed by the things you didn’t do than the ones you did do.  So throw off the bowlines, sail away from the safe harbor.  Catch the trade winds in your sails.  Explore.  Dream.  Discover.” – Mark Twain

I am a Writer.

I’ve been trying on this “new identity” for a few months now.  I’m allowing myself to be called a “writer.”  Writing is something that I have always done in non-formal ways.  I have always liked to write “for me”, but this is the first time that I have really gotten honest and serious, with myself and with the world, that I identify as a writer.  I imagine that’s how it goes for a lot of people.  Artists probably do a lot of scribbling and filling drawing pads before they say, “This is what feels right.  This is a huge part of me.  This is a great passion of mine.  This is not just my hobby.  I am an artist.”  I believe that is the same for photographers, dancers, actors, decorators, etc. – basically anyone who finds their way of being in the world, fulfilled through the creative arts.

It has been said many times that writers are the observers of life.  Susan Sontag put it this way:

“A writer is someone who pays attention to the world – a writer is a professional observer.”

Another quote I read recently is this (unfortunately I can’t find the source):

“A good writer reveals the truth even when he or she does not wish to . . . ”

I don’t consider myself a very observant person.  I would make a terrible witness.  I couldn’t tell you what cars my friends drive and I often walk around with stained shirts without even realizing it.  When I was very young, I learned early not to “bet my life” on any detail of anything, because more often than not, I had the particular detail flat-out wrong. (long story for another time)  I’ve always considered myself a “big picture” person, but the details seem to go right over my head.

I said to my husband, “Maybe I’m not a writer.  I’m not at all observant.”  He said, “You are observant about what you care about.”

Another quote struck me recently.  This is from one of my favorite writers, Mark Twain.  He said:

“The two most important days in your life are the day you were born and the day you find out why.”

Now, Mark wasn’t a woman, so I don’t think that he had that completely right.  All of us mothers knew a great, instant purpose in our lives, when we first gazed into our newborn babies’ eyes.  The connection we feel for our children, and the gift and privilege that the Universe entrusts in us, by allowing us to bring them into the world is enough reason “why” for eternity’s sake.

Still, we as mothers also know that we do a disservice to our children if we don’t find out “the other whys” to our own existence.  We cannot swallow our children whole and pilfer their “purposes in life”, as our own.  If we do that, we steal from them, us and the world.  We are all meant to bloom separately, so that the bouquet of Life is as full and flourishing and beautiful as it is meant to be.

In short, it is a great blessing in this middle stage of life, to be taking on a new title, a new identity, a new way of being in the world and owning it.  I am a mother.  I am a wife.  I am a daughter, sister, friend, aunt, niece, citizen, child of the Universe and I am a writer.

Just Say Thank You

 

Why is it so hard for us to accept compliments?  My friends and I got into a discussion about this the other day.  The topic came up because an electrician was at my home doing some work for us and he complimented a few things in our home.  Every time that he paid me a compliment, I rolled my eyes, made up some stupid quip about the item that he was complimenting, or I laughed.  Now, I know my etiquette.  I know that the proper thing is to just say “thank you,” but I didn’t do that and I didn’t even realize that I didn’t do it until he would respond to me like this, “Oh, so you don’t really like it?”  That response jolted me into some self-awareness of just how lousy I am at accepting compliments sometimes.

My friend said that when we don’t accept compliments we are actually insulting the person who paid the compliment.  When we put down what someone else says is nice, we are dissing their tastes.  We think that we are being kind or humble by not accepting compliments, but in reality we are rejecting their gift of kindness.  Another knee-jerk response to a compliment is to compliment the other person back.  But those “gotcha back” compliments seem kind of hollow, as a true compliment comes spontaneously from the heart, not as a “payback.”

Compliments are great. We should bask in them.  Mark Twain said, “I can live for two months on a good compliment.” Robert Orben said, “A compliment is verbal sunshine.”  Why not give the person who compliments a little “verbal sunshine” back with a big, bright smile and a, “Thank you. You just made my day!”  What is a better way to make both of you feel good???

We are unfortunately quick to accept criticism.  Even if we think we haven’t accepted the criticism, we ruminate on it all day long.  We stew in anger at the audacity of whomever criticized us or we sulk in shame as if making one mistake dooms us to the depths of hell.  If we are willing to put ourselves through all of that for criticism, constructive or not, why would we not allow ourselves to soak in the light of a kind compliment?  I think the cartoon character Happy Bunny says it best:

“Please put all criticisms in the form of a compliment.”