Shine Your Light

Paris is bleeding and my heart is broken.

The beautiful City of Lights is darkened today by tragedy and destructive acts of violence. By black hatred.

There is nowhere on this planet that I have dreamed of more often than Paris ... its sites beckon me. I so long to walk by the Seine, browse the beauty of the Louvre, and sit in a street cafe to watch the artists of Montmatre near that place in Paris most dear to me ... Sacre Coeur. A poster of this white church once held a place of honor in my childhood bedroom.

But today, as I awoke to tales of horror and hate, the beauty of my dream is stained. And my spirit cries out against the senselessness and the cowardly actions of individuals bent on destruction.

When did violence become the answer? When did cruelty become the choice to influence change? And when did killing become an acceptable action to place upon a "to do list"?

There is so much hate surrounding us ... so much intolerance and self-righteousness. So much finger-pointing and condemnation of differences. I am crying as I type and think of parents who have lost children ... and children who must push on without parents. Of the loss of lives in a war of hate that no one is winning. I think of a nation devastated by the echo of bombs and gunshots and wonder what we have come to that this has become so commonplace.

I don't understand. Oh, I realize I am naive. But Please ... someone tell me how we've allowed our difference to become loathing, treatable only by acts of violence and suicide bombers. When did Peace and Cooperation fall victim ... and how did we allow that to happen? What do organizations like ISIS want to create? Or do they seek only to destroy? What do they want us to hear? How did they get to a place where cruelty is mistaken as the only way to create change? Why do they choose Hate?

I don't face such extreme violence. I don't hold onto that kind of Hate. But, I do struggle with the affects of Hatred and Unkindness, like everyone else I'm sure. Mind, the violence I face doesn't compare to what happend on the streets of Paris -- it exists more on an emotional level -- yet it affects me nonetheless. Disdain, dismissiveness or perceived unkindness from others has its affects on my spirit. A thoughtless act or word that that resulted in a breakdown in a relationship or something even worse. I struggle with difficult moments and people who have perhaps blasted holes in my heart. They had their reasons. Their agenda. But my response is a choice. Do I return cruelty for cruelty? Hate for Hate? Am I unkind when someone is unkind to me? Am I self-righteous? And what is the result of my actions?

The other morning as I read my Daily Bread Bible lesson, the writer discussed dealing with difficult people. We all have them ... the people we just don't gel with or the people who we've had a falling out with. People who dislike us because we may have wronged them at one time, unintentionally even. People who we don't see eye to eye with and may never find common ground.

How do we choose to deal with such individuals? With violence and cruelty? By avoiding eye contact and steering clear? By gossip or bullets? By bombs and bloodshed?

After reading this message the other day, I decided to take a different route with someone with whom I've had "issues." I've decided that silence and avoidance are not what I want. That differences are just that and not everyone may be my best friend but I can choose kindness.

See there is beauty in even the most difficult person if we can get past our own issues to discover it. The painful energy they are giving out may be reflective of some deeper pain they are feeling. Perhaps it is something they are struggling with ... a demon of their own which we know nothing about.

Romans 12:18 If it is possible, as far as it depends on you, live at peace with everyone.

So, after months of silence, I spoke. I initiated contact. I reached out. Twice. I planted the seeds. And, I moved past the past, feeling lighter as the healing energy surged through my spirit. I chose to shine my light instead of hide it under a bushel ... I chose to make peace instead of flame the fire of separation.

Perhaps the play I'm in right now influenced me. For my character personally, it's about forgiveness. Not forgiveness of others, but forgiveness and acceptance of my own self for all my limitations and losses. For me, it's about reaching out and accepting the light and love of others. It's about renewal. It's about discovering that who I am and what I offer is enough ... and beautiful in and of itself. And it's about Shining My Light for others and offering them the same opportunity.

Self-Love. Acceptance. Forgiveness. Wait, that's what I need too. I have much in common with my character of Rose ... 

We spend so much time in the Darkness, judging ourselves and others. Condemning and complaining. Firing bullets -- literal and figurative -- at others to deflate them and lesson them in our eyes. To make us bigger and them smaller. To break them down so we can rise higher.

Today, I shine my light toward Paris. Toward those broken who have chosen hate and those victims of that hate. And I shine my light toward those who may have once hurt me ... or whom I may have inadvertently or even intentionally once hurt. 

My heart bleeds for Paris and all those who have lost in this sea of dark violence shadowing our planet. I pray for peace. I pray we can find a way past this hatred. I pray we can find a way to shine our lights, different as they may be, to create beauty instead of hate.

And I pray that Paris can find its light again ... 

                                                                                                      -- Jenni

Take The Time Today

Today, I am baking an apple pie. It's 1:07pm -- as I begin this post -- and I have already snuggled with my cat, caught up with my son, stripped beds of sheets, done two loads of laundry, purchased necessary items for that same son at the local CVS, swept my kitchen floor and attended two funerals.

It's the last one that made the decision of what I'm doing this afternoon. It's the last one on that "done" list that inspired me to bake a pie.

I'm still wearing my dressy clothes as I type -- my Angel open heart necklace, skirt, tights, heels and dressy blouse. I swept the hard-wood floor and launched the second load of laundry in my dressy church clothes. Feel a bit like Donna Reed.

To tell the truth, I've already had a challenging week and I will admit to some weariness. I'm in a play. We have had a busy tech week. I wear two hair pieces, spend over an hour getting them on and my head is sore. Whereas some may choose to spend the weekend after such hecticness lounging in front of the TV, I am baking a pie. Or, I will be once I finish this post.

Today I said goodbye and honored the life of a lovely soul who lost her battle with pancreatic cancer. But before that, I attended a funeral on the other side of town to support a coworker who lost her father. And on Monday, I will bid farewell to a theatre friend -- one who actually once gave me the opportunity to direct him in what turned out to be the last musical he performed at my local community theatre -- who also lost a battle to cancer. I am sad at the loss of so many beautiful spirits ... and hopeful they have a place on the stage, at the card table, or in the choir in a heavenly realm in their new shiny, transformed state.

Life happens. We get busy. Our priorities shift from caring about the people around us to "getting stuff done." We allow ourselves to feel hassled. We shut down and shut out.

Today as I sat in the church next to a very dear and very important friend of mine, I found perspective. I was truly blessed as I listened to a song my friend Conny recorded that she wanted shared in her Celebration of Life ... it was her taking the time to say Thank You to the people important to her. What am amazing message. See none of us knows how much time we are allowed on this planet. So we should make the most of it ... and we should remind the people who are important to us that they hold a place of honor in our hearts.

We should tell the people we enjoy spending time with how much we enjoy them ... whether our time together is limited or lengthy. We should make time for the "important" things, and let the rest go.

So, amidst the rushing, I have taken more time lately to bake cookies and snacks for my kids. I even made a great sacrifice and spent a couple hours last week catching up with a friend I hadn't had time to get together with in a month. I graciously helped her 'break in'  her new hot tub.

I messaged a friend who lives far away.

I made time to get dinner or a drink with friends who are important to me ... amidst our crazy schedules.

I have straightened my kids rooms and dressed my daughter's dolls up simply to see the resulting smiles -- and enjoyed doing it too.

And now, with this post, I speak words I don't always take the time to express. In case you don't know this ...

You are important to me.

And because I care and I don't know how much time I have to make a difference on this planet, I will reach out. I will send light. I will care for those who are important to me with unconditional acceptance and no expectations.

Whether we are gathered around the dinner table or have an evening once a week to lounge and watch TV or grab lunch in between yoga and picking up kids or take a few minutes over a cup of tea to talk politics or get a beer at the bar ... each moment was important to me because you -- the people I spent those times with -- are vital to me ...

You bring sunshine and joy to my heart. You challenge my thinking. You help me grow. You teach me things and give me more than I can ever express ...

Whether we took a walk and laughed or chatted on the phone across the miles or shared stories over knitting needles or took a drive ... I enjoyed the moments we shared. Whether you gave me a Valentine or took dance classes with me or performed with me in a show ... You gave me something in that moment. And you continue to give meaning to my life. Thank YOU for taking time to share with me.

When I was in fourth grade, my best friend Sheila Stratton and I listened to a 45 called Thank You For Being A Friend ... It was sung by Andrew Gold. Some of you may remember it ...

Thank you for being a friend

Traveled down the road and back again

your heart is true you're a pal and a confidant
I'm not aschamed to say
I hope it always will stay this way
My hat is off, won't you stand up and take a bow...

Oh there's more to it. I'm sure iTunes has the song, if you're curious. But for now, I just want to thank you for the moments -- large, small, intense, passionate, quiet, simple, theatrical, etc. Thank you for making time for me. Thank you for choosing to spend your busy days or evenings with me. Thank you for your text of encouragement or the call just to say hello. Thank you for the Angel Card. Thank you for dinner and listening ... thank you for sharing.

You give meaning to my life ... you are special ... I enjoy you and whatever time we get ... I treasure you and our times together.

Now ... I need to go and bake that pie ...

                                                                                                -- Jenni

Share The Road!

I reside in a small-big town in the Midwest. Small enough to run into people you know at the grocery store or walking down the street. But large enough to boast at least 4 McDonald's and a few places you can blend in and disappear to when you want some quiet anonymity.

Recently my small-big town added bike lanes to its streets. They are highly confusing things believe me.

Sometimes there is a line with a symbol beside it.

At first I mistakenly thought the lane "lined off" was the bike lane. Silly me. Here I am riding along merrily in my own little world, protected from those mean old cars ... until I nearly ran into a parked car. Oops.

Point of Order: Why do you need a line if the symbol already indicates that a bike should be riding on the right hand side of the road. Don't bikers ALWAYS ride on the right hand side anyway and don't bikers know to avoid parked cars?

Other times there are two  lines with a slightly different symbol inside it. In these instances, I now understand a bike is to be ridden within the confines of those two parallel lines. And now a once two lane road is classified as a one lane car road and one lane bike road.

Point of Order: If there is no bike in that lane, can a car drive in it? Can I pass on the right? And what happens when I need to turn? Do I turn from the outer lane? Isn't that a no no?

Hence ... the confusion.

Along with the paint job came numerous signs warning bikers to stay off the sidewalks in the downtown area. They site the City Code. Isn't that friendly? But I get it. I understand the "why." Some busy shopper is walking out of a store and a bike slams into them, the rider oblivious with earbuds blaring music from their iPhone into their heads. Perhaps some innocent diner with a carry-out box gets lambasted by a racing bike. Ouch! Or someone scrolling through their contact list to send a text and not paying attention is greeted by screeching bike wheels.

I understand the why ... it just all seems extreme and unnecessary and government getting involved in what SHOULD be common sense.

Yeah, I said it. "Should."

Sigh.

Bikes and Cars have ridden on streets together for years. We have somehow managed to share the road. Oh there are instances of accidents. People can be careless. People can make mistakes. People can make bad decisions. But, we survived without the lines.

People and bikers have navigated sidewalks together too. Bikes have ridden down sidewalks to avoid the traffic and the drivers backing out of parking spaces. Drivers chatting on cell phones or just not looking behind them very well. I mean, backing out of parking spaces is hazardous enough without tossing a bike into the mix ...

But that's what we've done now. The bike lane downtown resides right behind those parked cars ,,,

My small-big town has invested quite a bit of cash into these painted white lines, symbols and signs. I honor and respect the leaders of this small-big town. I consider more than one of these leaders to be a good friend of mine. And I truly believe these leaders get up each day and work for the betterment of my small-big town. I believe and honor their efforts and good intentions.

But bike lanes and signs make me sad. They tell me that signs were needed because people don't know how to share ... how to pay attention and look out for others ... how to look beyond their dashboard -- or bike helmet -- and SEE.

For some, the lessons of Sharing taught in Kindergarten didn't stick. As drivers and bikers need special lanes and signs, other people need expensive and often ugly signs by the side of the road to tell them DO NOT LITTER. (Obviously the people who litter can't read since there is a lot of litter by the side of the road.)  There are even people who make special rules to not use the main staircase or instruct the people using their space to take a back entrance (to feel control maybe?) and maintain the integrity of a facility they manage. They need to separate instead of integrate. For some reason, power and separation have meaning to them.

I wonder how these people did on the playground ... did they share the sandbox? Or did they divide and make rules to put others in a different place.

I am sorry we need painted bike lanes, signs and special rules to tell people to be considerate of others. I am sorry people feel a need to separate or hold themselves higher than others and thus make people around them feel small. I'm sorry we can't all play in the same sandbox and appreciate the uniqueness of each other ... and honor and celebrate the fact that we aren't all the same. I'm sorry that we didn't all learn the value and joy of true sharing.

Too bad there are people out there who didn't read Robert Fulgrum's All I Needed To Know I Learned in Kindergarten. It's not too late ...

Because if they did ... and they truly understood and embraced the message in that poem, we could spend our small-big town money on park care or improvement or road repairs or other welcoming, friendly small-big town stuff. We could enjoy the main staircase and have fun together instead of feeling misunderstood or hostile or frustrated. We could play in the sandbox together and just enjoy the toys.

But we have bike lanes ... Just what does that say?                                                                                                                                                                                 -- Jenni

Something Wicked This Way Comes ... A Fall Treat

I love fall. I love crispy fall leaves beneath my booted feet as I take walks in the brisk fall air. I love the scents surrounding me and the taste of cinnamon donuts and cider. I love fall colors and clothes ... and the azure shade of a sky littered with heather-painted clouds.

The other day, as I sauntered happily down the sidewalk Starbucks Pumpkin Spice Latte in hand, I took a deep breath. There is something mystical and enticing about this season. Perhaps it is the mysterious way the leaves transform and wave so soundlessly, caressing the sky in the breeze as though someone directed them to do so. Perhaps it comes with the cool mornings, warm afternoons and crisp nights. In the fall, I find myself waiting for something ... catching my breath as I anticipate some unknown change or arrival.

Perhaps that is the way Ray Bradbury felt when he wrote Something Wicked This Way Comes. Yes, Sara, you were right! You CAN "smell" October when you open this book. The first line captures you and promises you a unique adventure ...

"The seller of lightning rods arrived just before the storm ..." Wow.

I approached Ron's most recent Classic Challenge to read a Sci-Fi/Fantasy classic with a referral from a friend (Thanks Sara) and I'm so glad I did. What a treat.

Something Wicked This Way Comes not only brings fall alive but features an evocative traveling carnival as well ... one with all the runway "freak-shows" of the classic carnival of old. Talk about capturing my attention. I have always been fascinated by carnivals and their side-shows. What child doesn't recall fondly a trip to a colorful, tent laden midway ... mystical, magical, exciting moments of memory.

Something Wicked drew me in with a tone reminiscent of Daphne du Maurier-style gothic fiction blended with well-crafted characters and a carnival troupe ... a macabre and scary troupe that is more than slightly unpredictable. It is a troupe with supernatural power ... a troupe with a magic Carousel.

This is Ray Bradbury at his best. Sadly, I don't recall reading anything by him previously so this was an exciting adventure. This book is stylized with a mystical quality, at times the evocative descriptions are a bit rambling but they serve a purpose. They are deliberate. Thus, the sometimes meandering descriptions are riddled with metaphor and allusion ... beckoning you deeper into the carnival experience .... inviting you to explore the dark corners of your own life and imagination and even darker possibilities.

The story integrates themes popular even today ... coming of age and the regrets of life unfulfilled are balanced precariously with the perils of getting what you wish for. Deeply sinister carnival owners seek to entice two nearly 14 year old boys on the cusp of adulthood and a woman feeling old and left behind. The invitation beckons to us all ... Ride the merry go round and shave a year or two off your life any time you want. Or add a year or two ... It's an attractive invitation difficult to resist. It's evil to the very core though. And as the true hero of this novel states: "Evil has only the power that we give it."

I understand Bradbury was influenced to write this tale based on his own "hysterical spin" on a merry-go-round when he was four years old. He shrieked and screamed until the operator stopped the ride to "let him free." Not long after that he saw Lon Chaney in the film Laugh, Clown, Laugh, encountering the darker tones that lurk behind a clown's painted face.

Then at age 12, Bradbury met Mr. Electrico on the carnival grounds, Mr. Electrico introduced him to all the carnival freaks that Labor Day weekend in 1932, even recalling a past life moment the two had shared at the battle of the Ardennes Forest outside Paris where Bradbury had actually died in his arms.

Bradbury himself said that was a turning point in his life, stating that "something amazing had struck him with electric fire and changed him forever." Within eight weeks, he began to write ... He wrote every day after that, for the next 65 years.

I have never been a big fan of horror films or books. I have nightmares about clowns ... perhaps due to Poltergeist and It, which I saw as a teenager. But, I have to admit a fascination with the darkness and macabre nature of these old carnivals. Something Wicked This Way Comes evoked the feelings I experienced reading Erin Morgenstern's Night Circus a few years ago. That book was an otherwordly reading experience too ... I couldn't put it down.

Something about Sideshows intrigues me ... beckons me ... entices me. And something about fall and carnivals excites me. You hear the screams on the rides, you smell the caramel apples and popcorn, yet you only glimpse a tiny bit of what is truly before you. It's magical. It teases ... and it draws you back again and again with the promise of something you cannot yet explain.

I think I will read this book every fall with a cup of hot cider in my hands  ... and wait to see what happens. Because Something is coming ... I sense it ...
                                                                                                      -- Jenni

Today's Curious Answer: Oil + Water DO Mix

Okay Lucy ... This one is for you. Because you asked me to write a blog about this. Because you were curious. As I write, though, I make a Disclaimer. This is not an advertisement and I am not a doctor -- though I have played one on stage :) This is simply Jenni's Corner and a few thoughts about discoveries I have made recently. Should you begin and opt out, I will never know. 


I am a Curious individual. I am an Alice and I have explored many Rabbit Holes, learning when I can and meeting Mad Hatters, Obtuse Caterpillars and Whimsical Cheshire Cats along the way. I have leapt into the Looking Glass and speak Nonsense fluently. I ask questions ... and for me questions breed more questions. I am content that this is so.

That said, I recently began to experience a resurgence of some frustrating issues related to stress, sleep and anxiety. More annoying than anything. And, as I am at an age where such weirdness is wont to happen ... well, I wanted these things to stop happening. And I was Curious as to whether there was an option that would help me other than over the counter or prescription tools.

Not that those are bad. I was just Curious.

My Yoga Instructors had recently introduced me to the world of Essential Oils. Had used them in a class or two. Had spoken of the benefits they had encountered when integrating them into their own lives. Now, there are no medical claims I am suggesting here. I am simply sharing discoveries and presenting what I heard and experienced personally with these tools.

One of my Yoga instructors ... well, she is like no other. I attend her classes and KNOW that my heart rate has eased, my spirit has lifted, and my peace of mind is ... well, in one piece once again. Her class is therapy to my soul, my body and my mind. And I do everything in my power to get there Saturday morning at 9am. She empowers my spirit and strengthens my physical being along the way Yoga does that. But Yoga with Suzanne gives just ... a little something more.

Anyway, Suzanne had mentioned Essential Oils one day. And my Curious Alice nature took over. Might there be something here that could help me with my surges of Anxiety and Sleep issues other than a pill or trip to the pharmacy? Was there something natural that might support my own system in making the needed transition of a 40-something year old young woman? Was there something therapeutic out there I could access without a Therapist?

Yeah, okay, I wanted a quick fix without a "fix."

I met Suzanne at the Bean & Leaf in Royal Oak. I went to hear about her experiences and to learn. And I was delighted with what I discovered that morning. She introduced to the world of Young Living Essential Oils. (I say the name because these are the ONLY oils with which I have any experience or have researched/explored. I can personally only speak to these specifically.) She told me all about the benefits and affects of diffusing certain oils in water and absorbing their scent. Of massaging these oils into key places on your body. And of taking these oils orally to support overall health and wellness ...

Did you know that when you put a drop of these essential oils on your big toe it takes 23 seconds to work through your circulatory system? Faster than a Xanax ... and safer too since the addictive, narcotic aspect is eliminated. You can apply them at pressure or chakra points with varying affects. There are numerous reflex areas on your foot that send energy through your neuro-electical pathways. In other words, a drop of oil in a specific location on your foot can travel to a point within your system and affect you, your outlook and how you feel.

I was fascinated and decided to give this world of Essential Oils some time and research. I've discovered that it isn't a new thing at all. It isn't a fad. Essential Oils have been in use since before the birth of Christ ... remember the Frankincense and Myrrh? They are used commonly in Eastern practices. And, when you think of it, plants were once used in early medical care. So, it's not without supporting documentation.

There are fundamentally three ways to use Essential Oils ... topically, aromatically, and as a dietary aid -- you add a drop of Grapefruit or Lemon to Water or Peppermint into Tea to soothe the stomach. You apply 2-4 drops to the back of wrists, the temples or the neck. With some oils you can do this "neat," Others require diluting with an oil called a Carrier Oil.

The final way to use these oils is Aromatically, placed with water into a diffuser. A Diffuser is an ultrasonic humidifier and air purifier that breaks the essential oils into micro-particles and disperses them into the air, with various affects to the individual(s) nearby.

The number one Essential Oil is Lavender. It is credited with helping about everything ... hence the reason I told my dear friend Lucy to use a few drops with Epson Salts in her bath to soak away stress. I have itchy eyes in the morning ... probably because my cat sleeps with me. I use a drop of Lavender and Frankincense around my eye area in the morning and am itch free for the day.

Now, you can scoff all you wish and talk about the placebo affect. But, when my son had a migraine, I used my essential oil tools and my diffuser. I put a drop of Peppermint into his tea. 20 minutes later he walked from the darkened room in shock that the migraine was gone. This from a kid who typically sleeps for hours and throws up twice before recovery sets in.

In another instance, a stomach ache was aided by a touch of peppermint ... and an allergy to ragweed was eased by the Allergy Trio Blend of Peppermint, Lemon and Lavender.

At times I play mad scientist ... mixing my oils for certain results. There are combinations, blends, "recipes" and ideas I learn from an amazing group of women who have integrated these oils into their daily lives.

I have an oil diffusing right now. It's called Balance. It aids my perspective. It eases my stress. It makes me feel good. And, with two  very stressful work events, kid stuff, home care and rehearsals happening ... that's something I need.

So, Lucy, oil and water do mix. They mix together in my diffuser and send an aromatic message to my mind, body and spirit. They nurture me and help ease my anxiety. I have a new Pre-Sleep routine that involves oil and water and two very amazing essential oils called Vetiver and Valor. And I've been sleeping better than ever.

Like I said, I am a Curious soul. A bit mad of course. The best people are, you know.
                                                                                    -- Jenni

On Non-Fiction, Virginia Woolf and A Room Of My Own

Yes, Ron, I finished my non-fiction classic assignment. I'm sorry it took me so long. I have an admission to make ... Despite the sheer number of books I read and have read, only the tiniest number of those are non-fiction. 

As a young girl, I read lots of biographies on women I admired. And I have a friend who has gifted me with several amazing non-fiction reads. I've started them ... they intrigue me ... They truly Beckon me to indulge their ideas and savor their words. And I will. I want to.  Be patient with me ... I'm just not finished ... yet.  Just give me Time.

Sigh.

See when I read fiction, I escape or explore or visit or experience something outside my purview. I go on an adventure somewhere or with someone who exists only in my imagination. But when I read non-fiction, I'm guided to look inside. Sometimes that isn't the easiest read for me. I read slower. I read to learn or take note of something. I read ... differently.

So, Ron, when I selected my non-fiction classic, I selected the shortest book I could. All of 113 pages, I thought I'd get thru Virginia Woolf's A Room Of One's Own in record time.

Um ... I didn't. Took me six weeks and one library renewal. Perhaps it was knowing my brother had already read it and actually owned a copy that pushed me to finally pick it up and NOT set it down in favor of something ... fiction.

So, Virginia, I have a room of my own. This, according to Virginia, was necessary for a writer to truly find her voice. As I type my prose or my poetry, I enjoy my room. My cat shares my room. My family occasionally ventures into my room. But, it's mostly my room and that's pretty much all I can expect since I'm a woman who makes less than the 1929 equivalent of 500 pounds a year ... another requirement according to Virginia.  Inflation being what it is, I am informed that to adjust said £500 in 1929 to present value would mean about £25,000 or $43,000 in US dollars. Anyway, I don't make that, Virginia, so sharing my room occasionally but having it to my self most of the time is a pretty darn good deal.

About the book ... If you pick it up, read the first two pages of Chapter 1. Then, when she starts going on about Mary Beton, skip to Chapter 2. I am absolutely convinced that if I had done that in the first place, I would have been captivated much faster. See Virginia lacks focus in Chapter 1, she rambles a lot in an attempt to illustrate the poor treatment of women at the time and how impossible it was for women to become writers. That's pretty much all I got from Chapter 1.

But then as I read on, I found myself noting many profound comments that I wanted to return to or make note of later. (That's what happens to me when I read non-fiction!) Virginia's use of descriptive devices is tremendous. I could see and smell the places she referenced. Her story about Shakespeare's "sister" and the unwelcome nature of not only an Elizabethan writer but an Elizabethan female actor ("any woman born with a great gift would have gone crazed, shot herself, or ended her days in some lonely cottage outside the village, half witch, feared and mocked at") was stirring. As a female actor myself, the idea that someone would tell me that I could get no training in my craft or laugh in my face and bellow something about "poodles dancing and women acting" as he proclaimed that no woman could ever be an actress ... well ... that hit me. And I didn't like it.

Perhaps my favorite section was Virginia's examination of Jane Eyre, one of my treasured and much read books. Have you ever read it? Well, there are moments where Charlotte Bronte clearly spoke her own thoughts as Jane. She let her own commentary bleed into the work and into the thoughts of her character.  See there ... on the pages of that great novel ... I met a fellow restless spirit for the very first time. Jane/Charlotte shared a stirring reflection about her ... their? ... personality: "the restlessness was in my nature; it agitated me to pain sometimes ... " And she went on to say: "It is vain to say human beings ought to be satisfied with tranquility ... Women are supposed to be calm generally: but women feel just as men feel; they need exercise for their faculties and a field for their efforts ..."

According to Virginia -- and clearly both Charlotte and my dear friend Jane -- they need a room of their own and a chance to explore and find their voice, eventually articulating that voice on paper ... but that's only an option for a woman with £500 a year,

Virginia noted how most books about women at the time were written by men.  Men wrote their view of women and how a woman thought. Virginia then noted how women find themselves challenged to write like men when they should write their way. They should nurture and use their own voice -- not as someone else might or as someone might want them to write. They should not allow someone else's opinions to muddy the message they want to share. 

Virginia illustrated her thoughts with passion. Her images were stirring and decorated with beautiful and very intentional word choices. Her description of Shakespeare's talented but cast aside sister stirred me. Her review of Mary Carmichael's first novel was amusing. And her impatience with a world intolerant of women artists was quite clear.

Women writers out there ... Buy this book. Highlight the passages that stir you. And write like a woman. Write your words your way. Don't try to master a tone that isn't yours. Exercise the authenticity of your own voice!

Men writers out there ... Buy this book. Honor all your fellow writers ... male and female. You may not be Will Shakespeare, but you have something to say ... just like he did. You can learn from Virginia to honor your voice.  

Jane Austen had to hide her writing. She didn't have a Room Of Her Own. She didn't go anywhere ... the only traveling she did was through the pages of her novels. Those transported Jane as they eventually transported the reader.

Charlotte and Emily Bronte sold their beautiful tales for a pittance. They had neither £500 or a room of their own in which to write. But, these female writers -- women who probably scrounged and borrowed paper -- penned words and ideas that would stand the test of time. They found their voice and created vivid and intensely passionate characters that connected to their readers -- male and female. 

Virginia recognized their unique accomplishment in 1929, She would be glad to know these authors are still celebrated today.

I hope Virginia Woolf knows that women have their own rooms now. And that we have found our voice ... Oh, and that the Bodleian library now lets women inside its doors.

So, Ron, thanks for challenging me to read a non-fiction classic. I learned a lot about writing as I dog-eared page after page of "good stuff" in this little book. Think I will buy a copy to read it again ... and again.  

Just gonna skip Chapter 1!

                                                                                                                              -- Jenni

On Fractionated Coconut Oil ... and Life

Last week the server at work began to experience a personal crisis. One minute I'm typing along using files from the shared i:drive. The next minute all I could access were two documents in the 2014 Community Awards folder ... not much use as I was working on the 2015 event.

To make matters worse, I lost Internet access and email access. Wi-Fi- sputtered and I couldn't access email on my phone even with my own personal data! Talk about Frozen in place. It absolutely threw me.

Now, we KNEW the Server was failing. Our technicians were due to upgrade and make necessary enhancements the next day. Good thing, right? Well ... sort of. Their arrival and work in our small office was nearly as disruptive. I still couldn't get anything done. One minute I'm typing up a press release and then the next I'm ejected from my desk to "upgrade my email to Office 365" -- a program that I'm gonna need to sort through and figure out come Monday.

So, there I sat with pencil and paper, writing out "stuff" without actually having "stuff" to look at. Talk about disruptive!  I was fractionated and unable to do much but meander and plan for the next week ... when I hope all goes back to "normal."

Life is like that ... fractionated ... divided, separated ... broken up by changes in technology, people, health, responsibilities and so on. It's not necessarily or always a bad thing ... fractionated. It just breaks things up. It alters the flow.

As all this "work" stuff happened, I was trying to connect with a friend I hadn't seen in a while. Texts, messages, calls ... but no face time. As human beings we crave connection. Rick Springfield got it right when he sang We all need the Human Touch. Loneliness, feelings of isolation and confusion are rampant in this country with people relying on technology, Facebook, Twitter, Instagram and "social" media to keep them close to each other. All this has an impact though ... at least it did on me. The disconnect meant I was not grounded. I felt I'd lost my joy and my sparkle, leading -- I must admit -- to a bit of depression and moodiness.  It happens ... when I feel disconnected from people I care for.

See Facebook posts and texts are no substitute for the Human Touch. At least not for me.  I need to look into eyes and touch others to feel connected to them. I need time to talk face to face. As I contemplated this fact, lyrics from an old Olivia Newton-John song kept playing in my mind:  You don't need no psychiatry, come on baby you can talk to me. Cuddle up on the couch with me, we can talk on night for free ... 

Talk. Touch. Time. Eye contact ... that truly gives me Energy, Joy and fosters Creativity, grounding my Spirit and nurturing my Heart. Gonna go out on a limb and say that I don't think I'm alone here ... 

The other day I walked by a woman waiting for her car outside of Jax in Birmingham. I had just had a wonderful manicure from a dear friend who started her own business about 18 months ago -- a business which has become one of the Top Spas around. The Beach House Day Spa and my friends Michele and Lauren save me oodles in therapy! Time there gives me the human touch as well as time to talk, laugh and share. And as I was feeling fractionated, I really needed the human touch, eye contact and people who "get me" and genuinely care -- people who also share their own challenges, thoughts and joys with me. It's a two-way street with active listening!

Anyway, back to the woman. She had on a beautiful bright pink dress. It looked truly stunning on her. So I took a moment to compliment her. The look on her face ... the way her eyes brightened. Well, it was as though a rush of energy shot between us. I could almost see that energy. I watched her stand a bit taller and smile as she thanked me for the compliment. It took nothing but a smile, eye contact and a few words from me. But the impact on her ... it was powerful. I don't know where it went from there, but I suspect it might have touched others in her path that day.

We're so busy. We're so self-oriented. We're glued to posting our Status using a program that gives us no emotional support. But the benefits for reaching beyond ourselves and our keyboards/smart phones to touch others is immeasurable. I'd rather Talk to you than Message you. Look in your eyes. Hear your voice.

About a month ago, I began to experience a resurgence of an anxiety issue I'd had in the past. It seemed unrelated to anything going on in my personal life, but it affected me quite dramatically. As a Type AAA control freak, I sought ways to banish this "drama." Quick fix other than turning to prescription meds. And I began to learn there was another option.

Unbeknowest to me, there was an entire world of Essential Oils out there that worked cooperatively to aid the mind, body and spirit. There are oils and combinations to counter headaches and migraines, sore throats and sleep issues, anxiety and focus. There are oils that work to enhance creativity -- I'm actually diffusing two now that seem to be having quite a positive impact on a creative block I've been suffering lately. 

Oh you may scoff all you like. But my son had a migraine Monday, so I administered the recommended blend of essential oils. Well, I've never seen such a rapid transformation. He is typically out for hours -- sleeping in the dark with horrible light sensitivity. And, when he finally awakes, he throws up and moves slowly. Well, the correct formula of oils saw him up and about and out with his friends within 30 minutes.

With essential oils, you break some of them down to allow them to go further or create a "blend."  Fractionated coconut oil, grapeseed oil, sweet almond oil ... all aid these potent alternative tools cooperatively to allow them to last longer or even work better.  Sure, there's no medical backing but if you consider that in "olden times" (and I'm not talking about when I was a kid) most medicinal treatment derived from plants. There is a lot of supporting documentation about this option. Google it ... I dare you. (Better still, call me and I'll tell you more!)

Anyway, fractionated coconut oil is my preferred carrier oil (that's what it's called) to use with my own oils. And it helps me and my own experiences ... 

Back to the office and the technological drama ... back to the struggles with time and to do lists and people I couldn't connect with etc etc. Life gets fractionated. People aren't always there to get us through. People can't always make time or find time for me ... or for you. Sometimes, we are on our own and sometimes we feel disoriented, lonely or even sad. 

That is life. So you have to find something deep within yourself to push thru. When things get fractionated -- and they will -- we have to change our own inner dialogue. We have to change the message we're telling ourselves and get out of our self-created "rut." We can decide not to fall apart or lose our joy based on the behavior of a server or a family member or a friend or a challenging project or a tough yoga pose .... or (fill in the blank).  We have to remember that whatever is happening it is not permanent ... it will change. We can decide not to allow it to fractionate us ... 

We possess the power to change how we look at Life and its many fractionated moments -- not good, not bad. Just broken up at times.. We can decide to select a new outlet or project. Call a different friend. Workout. Bake. Create a new playlist and pump up the volume. Unplug and go camping. We can even reclaim our joy standing up on a friend's speed boat and feeling the wind rushing through our hair as the stresses or sadness or to do drama flies out behind us to be absorbed by Lake Michigan.

My Granddaddy used to say: Life it do get tedious. Well, Life it do get fractionated. How you deal with it ... what essential oils and blends you add to your life ... what projects or other people you find to get you through fractionated days ... that's what counts. 

That's living with joy, purpose and discovery. Continuing your adventure and choosing to respond instead of react. That is your tool to counter loneliness, drama or crashing servers. 

You can't always get what you want (said the Rolling Stones) ... but it you try sometime, you just might find ... you CAN get what you need. And that's pretty damn cool and empowering ...
                                                                                                                   -- Jenni