Watch out world I have been scheming..

Today I did some work that I have been scared to death to do.  I emailed a friend of a friend and asked for her help, I want to plumb the depths of her expertise.  I want to build a business.  "Fortune favors the brave..." the latin proverb came to me via the internet this morning.  And then Gloria Steinem's words: "Dreaming, after all, is a form of planning."

I don't know how.
What I do know is now.  Now I have the courage, the support, the patience and inspiration.   I must gather these strengths and move forward for myself.
So I hope you all join me as I dive into the deep end and keep myself afloat with the love and blessing of my friends and family, the diligence of my imagination, and the inspiration of fierce hearts everywhere.  Love hard my friends, it brings us strength and perseverance.
Wish me luck, I'm going for it!

i just chased a love note through the library

when i greeted the silver haired woman behind the counter i was chipper because i was going to ask for a favor.   i use my restaurant manager voice when i need to put the moves on bureaucracy.  she was very kind and helpful, although doubtful.  she looked up the book i needed to find.  gave me the number and sent me on my way.  

i walked with purpose around the corner through the room of books and computers where sound was still permitted.  as i made my way further into the building it got quieter and smaller.  i started up the stair case.  colored construction paper cut into misshapen letters  and purple snowflakes announced that "reading was snow much fun".  up the second flight and into the kids section.  the elevator door was blue across from me and there was a table with two people talking.  in the next room i stopped when i saw a call number poster with my section on the top.  i perused the shelf, caught the number 658.152.  grant writing for dummies.  nope.  i scanned the entire length of the shelf.  it wasn't there.  i read the numbers on the shelf above.  nope.  the shelf below.  nope.  i pulled out grant writing for dummies.  not my book.  i turned and retraced my steps towards the stair case.  i glanced over the table the two people were at to see if my book was there.  i continued down the stairs and into the room where sound was permitted and back to the front desk.  i politely said that the number she gave me was not the book i had previously checked out.  she looked at me with a far off stare.  as if i were speaking a foreign language.  she looked up the book again.  she read me the number again.  i assured her that this number did not correlate to the book i had returned over the weekend.  

"is it possible to pull up my account and look at the title of my book and get the proper call number that way?' 

a woman sitting at a smaller desk with a bigger computer looked sideways at me from behind her large screen.  her curled hair bounced with annoyance.  "yes, we can.  give me a moment."

she looked at her big computer screen ignoring my appreciation.  "your name?"

walker...w-a-l-k-e-r- cath-

"yes, she interrupted me.  

she gave me the same number, with three letters listed after it.  then abruptly got up from her swivel chair and marched me to a shelf in the sound allowed room, my book was not there.  we walked through to the back of the building and up the stairs with the construction paper snowflakes.  she scanned the shelf, murmured about it being shelved wrong and then left the room.  i followed her to the table the couple were sitting at.  the librarian, starting picking books out of the ladies canvas bag.  every one she showed me was the wrong book.  then i peered in the ladies bag.  i saw the plastic molded cover of my book.  i pulled it out from between other books and thanked the librarian.  

i opened the book and clumsily thumbed to the table of contents.  

there i found the post it note.  "i miss you hon"

i pulled the note from the page, tucked it into a book in my bag and thanked the librarian and baffled lady volunteer at the table.  i walked down the stairs and back through the sound allowed room, nodded to the lady behind the counter when she asked if i had been successful. "yes, thank you."

i opened the door and walked down the staircase and through the parking lot thinking to myself, i just chased a love note through the library.  

"hey babe, i got my note."  were my first words to her when she answered my phone call.  

"huh"

"i got my note."

her laughter spilled through the phone and made my heart smile. 

to be continued...

?

nothing comes out of my head.   i walked in hopes of igniting a thread.  but i cannot tease any cohesive thought from within my body.  i have been looking: in my heart, my mind, even my dreams and nothing has lasted long enough for me to feel it.

reeling in the eye of a storm.  as if everything is about to click into place, but there is the other half of the storm to live through before it shifts.  this is what decision making feels like?

i must delve into my imagination for the inspiration and reliance i need to make this happen.  it will be strength of heart and forgiveness that will get me in the dirt.  so i pull my shoulders back, lift my gaze, and open my heart.  i am going to find my way.   

november daydream

in afternoon shadows bleak fallen leaves crunch under my feet.  

a gray sky gives way to the burning rose afire on the horizon.  

blue ink bleeds through the fire and stars show themselves peaking into the mirror of the running river.  

Glads

My family held hands around the dinner table.  In turn we would each say one thing we were thankful for.  Afterwards we would sing a song 'thank you lord for bringing us together, and may love grow within our hearts.'

I had completely forgotten this traditional anecdote of my childhood until the other day I was talking with my brother.  He mentioned that his family has adopted this practice, with a minor adjustment to the word lord.  

Immediately I remembered the tune of the song and began humming it to myself.  Then I realized the power of those words... May love grow within our hearts.   At the time, my little self had no idea of the importance of these words, the great simple message that was reverberating over our food and through our voices, our hearts together as a family.   I wonder if my  mother knew that at some point in my adult life I would find these words again and realize how truly blessed with love my childhood was.  

In this season of gratefulness I would like to begin with saying thank you to my family for fostering love in my tiny little heart.  

and then it was november

as if i had not paid any attention to the passing of time because i was sipping a glass of red letting the layers fall.  i never anticipated losing time.  i just smiled and accepted a second glass.  her eyes never told of the days she would consume, the thoughts she would pull from my mind.
i wrote dates on stars and affixed them to the wall to remind me of her.  
yet really i need no reminder.