My Happy Project & A little Konmari!


happy

I promised to come back and report on my happiness project. I always hate to announce publicly any new resolutions I take on because I know people will be watching and yet I feel the need to put it out there to make myself accountable. I have really been trying to notice what makes me happy and trying to be less negative. Though this election makes it a little hard not to feel negative or a little scared. But not going there today!

I will say that I’ve realized that though I had a pretty good childhood and great parents and so on, I have kind of come from a negative family. A little judgmental and gossipy and jumping to seeing the negative. I’ve noticed it more and more in talking to certain people and I know it has rubbed off on me.

I will go for a visit and return with a little more evidence that my theory is not so “off.” And so the question is… can you really teach an old dog new tricks? (Me being the dog.) Can I break the cycle? Is it too late? I am determined to!

junkyard-dog

I have always given the benefit of the doubt to certain people in my life knowing that they came from a pretty horrible background or childhood. But it is different when it is more subtle and you realize in your fifties that there were some things pretty off. Even if you were loved and adored and cared for as a child, the messages we learn are a little like a frog sitting in a tepid pot of water as it eventually begins to boil.

frog-in-boiling-water

I am turning off the heat and jumping out! Just watch me! I am going to be aware of my negativity and stop it. It may take a lifetime. After all a half a century of learned behavior is cemented in there, but I have my chisel and I intend to carve out the happy in me! One chunk at a time!

My daughter has recently gotten into Konmari (Google it if you haven’t heard of it.) It is a way of organizing, asking if an item brings you joy, if it doesn’t you thank it and toss it. Lol. She admits that I had the same ideas when she was a kid cleaning her room. (Take all the trash first, and then the papers, books, clothes, toys, etc.) I didn’t think of the joy and thanking each item… in her room that would have taken a month! LOL. But I find it hilarious that she is into this AFTER she moved out!

messy-babybrookie-really-in-her-bed My baby… she does everything with a passion! (love the one sock off!)

But I love that she is and I am so proud of her! (She does EVERYTHING with a passion!) She inspired me! And after 20 huge yard sized bags, I have donated to our church’s rummage sale, I love my empty and organized closet! And have moved on to our garage with my husband. Spending my last day off clearing half of my side of the garage!

messy-closetpile-on-the-bedempty-closet clean-closetclean-bedbags

 messy closet,  pile on bed,  empty closet, clean closet, cleaned off bed,  bags to donate!

Why I’m sharing this is… metaphoric of course… in the physical sense it is freeing to let go. And in the spiritual sense it is mentally healthy to release that closet full of metaphoric junk I’ve piled high for all these years!

I urge everyone reading this to take each thing you are holding onto and look back in your life and remember where once it came and ask if it brings you joy and if it doesn’t… toss it onto the pile and let it go!

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BACKSPACE


writer

You are the pen and today is the page,

your attitude is the ink.

YOU control  the way  you react,

in what you say and do and think.

At times we are bold in the things that we say,

at times we should say nothing at all.

It’s all in the way we write the words on each page,

and the way we want them recalled.

For life does not have a backspace key

for all the things that we say in haste.

So, just remember as you click on SAVE

to review  first, and when needed erase!

S

Diane Reed 2016©

backspace

 

We are the Authors of our stories!


diary writing

A blank page has always inspired me. I remember as a young girl, receiving a new diary with a key and a lock. I remember the feeling of anticipation and hope. It was as if someone gave me the power of my own destiny. And metaphorically speaking, we each are given that. I feel a little sad that we have gone so electronic and our world has become so “techie” because I still feel that there is something special about opening up an empty book filled with blank pages and writing about our aspirations there. I guess you could do that with the blank page on a Word Document on a computer and even make a file and title it “My Diary” or “My Journal” but there is still just something about seeing your own handwriting and how it changes as your life does.

diary gram's

I have found journals from my past and it has been a gift to go back and read where I once was. And hopefully to see how far I have come. When my grandma died, the only thing that I wanted was her diary. It was this green little leather bound five year kind, that she kept when she was 16 through meeting my grandpa and ending with having my mom!

journals

One of my standard gifts has always been empty books. Especially to young people. I’ve told my kids that their lives are like empty books and every day they write a new page. It is up to them how their stories turn out. We are the authors of our stories. And I’ve encouraged those in their twenties that seem to be stuck, to go out and WRITE their stories. I can name three off of the top of my head that had their cosmetology licenses or a degree and stayed stuck making minimum wage because they were comfortable where they were. I nagged them to take that last exam that would give them wings to fly from the nest. And watching them soar, made me think…

choice quot3e

I finally had to admit that I’ve kind of been stuck myself, thinking that it was too late for me. Feeling very comfortable in how well I knew my job, I didn’t want to have to go out and re-learn something. Heck, I don’t even like to read instructions or have to learn a new game. Talk about being stuck. I felt that my pages had all been written on. And that I was too old to begin again. And I was feeling very beaten down as I battled the storm. Finally realizing that I was NOT alone! God and me had this one!

lighthouse

Though the wind hadn’t just gone out of my sail, it had been SUCKED out! I began to realize that I could make my own wind! I was the author of my story and it was NOT over! And so with a lot of prayer, I forged the storm and moved on!

suitcasess

I kind of feel as if I have begun writing in a new empty book as I begin my new job. I am the author. The job has been created just for me! It is a new venture for my company and I am pretty sure that everyone is rooting for me. I love my team and the people I work with. And I intend to write a BEST SELLER! How about you? I’d love to hear about your “COME BACK” stories!

strength quote

Happy NEW Year Everyone! Happy NEW story, happy new life! God bless you all!

Black Velvet Saddle Shoes


 

There must be something about the date; December 4th. It is a day of new beginnings for me. Twenty-one years ago today, my life began again the day that I married for a second time. I’d left a fourteen year marriage a few years earlier, devastated. When I stood up there with my childhood Pastor and my brand new beautiful husband, I’d had high hopes. And when I repeated those vows about… for better or worse and in sickness and in health, well… I reeeeally meant them! I think in a way, the last part of that little girl in me who believed in magic died on the day I walked out the door with my two young kids in tow.

Even though I wanted to believe, and said I did when I took those vows for the second time, I think I kind of felt like a fraud. I know that I didn’t believe that I was married with the same kind of childlike faith I’d had that first time around. The walls were tall and my heart was broken. And I came with a ready-made family. I really am not sure what my poor husband was even thinking! Or… what he saw in me. Even after almost two years of getting to really know us as a package deal before we got married, he said “I DO” and so did I. That day, though skeptical of the whole “Forever” thing. I had more hope, than I’d had in a long time.

Since then, we’ve had quite a journey. Together, we’ve been successful and way UP on top and then slammed to the bottom financially. We’ve dealt with deaths and births, illnesses and healings and some pretty catastrophic, life shaking times but we’ve stayed strong. Mostly because my husband is a man of faith and not loving me as he says is… “NOT an option.” And though sometimes in the fit of a fight, that is rather annoying. In the end… it is all I ever wanted. Someone who loves me unconditionally, flaws, walls and all.

It is all rather ironic because today is pretty metaphoric for me. As I close an old door on an old job that consumed a full decade of my life, I open a new door to a new job on the very same day in which I opened a new door to a new life twenty-one years ago. And though I know that I already wrote my “Anniversary” post. I woke up early today and couldn’t go back to sleep and so I got up and discovered a blog full of sweet congrats and well wishes from my consistently wonderful and supportive readers! (Thank you!) And I also remembered that this is the first day of my new job. Something that I haven’t said for over a decade! And I must say that I kind of feel like a kid on her first day of school!

For the first time in a long time, I have hope again. I remember when I was a little girl, maybe first grade, it was my first day of school. My friends and I walked to school in our brand new black velvet saddle shoes. (The kind that you had to brush off if someone stepped on them.) Funny, how I have to go sooo far back in my memory to feel that new feeling of hope again, but I’ve begun to understand that sometimes, you have to go as far back as you need to, in order to find the pieces of yourself that you left along the way, so that you can scale the walls and  truly begin to find a way to believe again, just like that young girl once did all those years ago, as she walked to school in her black velvet saddle shoes.

2edd18ca37acadc7e0d754d8a10c86c5.jpg (234×320)

Folding Pages


 My life is so busy that I’ve gotten out of the habit of reading a real book, you know, turning the pages and actually sitting down to read. I usually have an audio book playing in my car or a few books I read on Kindle when I’m waiting in a waiting room or in a long line somewhere but it had been a long time since I’d really gotten into a good old book with paper pages. I hate to say it but I’d begun to even read my Bible mainly on Kindle.

Over the holidays my friend gave me a great coffee mug and a wonderful book called The Pilot’s Wife by Anita Shreve. (But that is not what my post is about. Though I am pretty sure that I have discovered a new favorite author!) Anywaaaay… in the course of reading this particular book, I’d have to mark my place and go do things as I read the chapters throughout that week. And so I’d fold a page just so I could find my way back to where I left off. And it made me think.  (Of course.)

Sometimes we are right in the middle of life when we are called away. We want to come back and finish what we started so we mark the place we left. In my case, I fold pages. But not just in books. I have done it all my life, from the time I was very small.

reading in the grass

As I grew older, I always have had the tendency to look back. Not necessarily with regret but more so with curiosity.

reading library ladder

 

Today I think I live in a montage of folded pages.

folded pages room

 

I have recently had a need to go back and unfold the pages and close some of those old books. And I am slowly doing that, one page and one book at a time. I am not sure if anyone but a special handful of people I know, can truly understand what I mean. I am the kind of reader that can read a book and years or even months later pick it up again and re-read it, finding a host of new details that I missed the first time. I have done that a lot lately.  But as I go through my life now, I have begun to try to not have so many folded pages and  metaphorically speaking, to read the chapter all the way through and finish it and finally just move on!

folded pagessss

Folded pages in my life,

fill each book I read

marking places  left behind,

but  some day, I may need.

Books I’ve never finished

to the very end,

line my shelves waiting where…

 I might pick them up again.

Scattered places in my life,

like pages I have marked,

call me back like folded pages

where once I left my heart!

Diane Reed

2014©

heart ring in pages

Sooo I have a question…. As I start to go back and finally finish my book, for those of you who kind of know what my book is about (if you are interested you can go and look up Chapter One or… Would You Read This?  in Search on my page and get a very rough draft of it.)

I am trying to finalize the Title…. I am thinking of changing it from Pieces Of The Circle to…. Folded Pages….   What do you guys think?

The Most Distressed


I don’t often post a series except of course in posting my chapters 1-9 from my unpublished book’s rough draft…  So this is unusual for me to do a two parter but I just was so inspired by the message I received yesterday while picking grapes at our friend’s vineyard, that I had to just add this today….

In the course of yesterday while I was picking grapes at my friend’s Harvest Day Vineyard Grape Picking Party… I was told to avoid the clusters where there were over 50% “raisins” (shriveled grapes).

grapes raisins

However, later as we were chatting over wine and good food, I learned different lessons of the art of winemaking and one of them was that the stressed grapes make the better wine. (Not to be confused with the raisins!)

It’s in the fruit that is the most distressed,

the one that ‘s weathered and withstood the test.

it’s the fruit that’s clung onto the vine

that someday makes the better wine.

RAIN

Oh Lord, I’ve finally begun to see

the message today, you had for me.

I may not always understand the pain

but growth is found beneath the rain.

grapes distressed

inside the storm as we hang on..

It’s in those times that have made us strong.

For those who’ve held on longest to the vine…

They are God’s reserve…

HIS finest wine!

wine glass

Diane Reed

’13

Like Oxygen


20130429_073645

Do you ever wake up and just have to write? I have found that in the morning especially, writing is like oxygen to me. Perhaps it is because sleeping and dreaming and writing all have some magical connection that is a bit like a fleeting vapor. The memory of a dream or the perfect words you wanted to remember all seem to slip through our fingers upon awakening.  Sometimes remembering what I have dreamt of is such a hazy memory, I wish that I could  capture it in a bottle so that I could have it to refer to later and yet later never comes. And as the day goes by, I often forget what it was that made me feel so intense and usually feel the disappointment of forgetting the whole thing.

This morning I woke up and realized that I get up early for that very reason. To capture the words that dance inside of my head just begging to get out before I forget. So with no interruptions I try to duplicate the messages from my dreams. I have painted a picture or baked a new recipe in much the same way, In the hopes that in sharing my creation, someone else will as I often say…. just “GET IT” and connect with me in a way that is hard to explain. Understanding is such an intimate thing we all share in different ways. A reader’s response to our writing is perhaps much in the same way a chef might feel as he watches and waits for the reaction upon our faces when we taste the first bite of something wonderful that  he just created and in turn,  that small response makes it all worth his efforts.

snow cone cat

(Sorrrrry, I just had to use this picture to make you guys smile!)

I can’t afford to go to a writer’s seminar right now but I know that whenever I find another writer in my own walk of life… someone who is also writing (or has written) a book or blogs…. it is like magic. Our souls just connect and we are bonded. I remember in seventh grade I met another writer who wrote because she just wanted to, no assignments made her write. like me she wrote because she had to. We became friends. We read each each other’s stuff. I am not sure why we didn’t keep in touch. Funny, I haven’t thought of her for a long time. At the risk of sounding redundant, meeting other writers is magical.  It doesn’t happen as often as I would like. I mean if I were a quilter, I could join a quilting club or if I sewed, I could probably run into others who shared my interest at a fabric counter. But writers aren’t as obvious. There is no AA group at the local church for writers. And so I am grateful that I have found you guys and can at least, rub elbows with you cyberly!

Have a great Sunday!

In my love for a wonderful metaphor I dish this one up for all writers and ask you all….

: “Just exactly why do you write?” Use a metaphor to answer if you like!

quote about writing typewriter

The words come like oxygen as she breathes to take them in,

They happen with no warning  for when they’ll begin or end.

She just has to go with it, as they dance upon her screen…

A recipe of words she writes not knowing what they’ll mean.

imagesCAWZP51C rolling pin

So she serves them with the hope that somewhere else on this earth

someone will read what she writes and they’ll somehow see their worth,

like a chef putting the final touches, garnishing his plate,

a writer posts their words and then silently has to wait.

As readers taste her efforts,  taking the time to read,

she prays that somewhere in her words, they’ll find what they might need,

pricking the heart of someone who needs the words she just wrote

as they in turn leave her their own words in a grateful note.

Diane Reed

2013

quote about writing virgina wolfe