Inner voice

I'm being vigorously tested. Relentlessly pursued.

I'm passing the test. Staying my course.

It feels right.

Whew.

Sky blue

This morning I wrote my morning pages while sitting on a bench at the waterfront a block from my home. The sky was almost completely covered in clouds. Near the southern tip of Manhattan the clouds were white. Over the Empire State Building they were light gray. But in between the sky was so dark that when they reflected off the Hudson River it looked like a big black hole.

Only a small patch of turquoise blue was visible in the whole scene. It made me think of the book I'm reading -- A Return To Love by Marianne Williamson. There's a part where she talks about the sky and clouds:

A spiritual teacher from India once pointed out that there is no such thing as a gray sky. The sky is always blue. Sometimes, however, gray clouds come and cover the blue sky. We then think the sky is gray. It is the same with our minds. We're always perfect. We can't not be. Our fearful patterns, our dysfunctional habits, take hold within our minds and cover our perfection. Temporarily. That is all ... There has never been a storm that hasn't passed. Gray clouds never last forever. The blue sky does.

Sweet perspective.

Carpe diem

Tonight I had one of those insights that I could choose to chide myself about or I could just turn into action. I'm going with the latter approach.

I got so steamed about something earlier that had little to do with anything but my own lack of planning and discipline lately. My avoidance, my detachment, my fear.

Enough! Seize the damn day already. It's not up to outside forces to set my agenda. It's up to me.

Make the shift. It'll feel sooooooo good.

Adult day

A full day in the city! A dear friend decides it's time for an "adult" day (read: a little break from her four very active sons) and I get to be an active participant.

First a good brunch, complete with scrumptious bellini. Then shopping at Century 21, where she makes out like a bandit. We got a kick out of some of the couture along the way. Then a walk to SoHo and a stroll through all the street vendors. Then a snack and cocktail. We tried a drink called a Lemon Tart; the rim was dipped in sugar. Lemonade with a kick -- so good. A little more shopping.

A full day of friendship -- from 11 a.m. to 8 p.m. Never a dull moment.

Good company

Just came from seeing a band in Central Park and then having dinner with friends. It was rather impromptu. Two women who were in my life coaching training class over three years ago came from their homes in Brewster, N.Y., and Hartford, Conn. to see the band. They brought another friend.

What a lively scene it was. The proverbial melting pot that is New York dancing and singing in the park. The band -- Tortured Soul -- has a sort of cult following. They're very good. The bass player is my friend's son; she has much reason to be proud.

Dinner afterwards was lively and funny. I bonded with these women almost immediately after meeting them and we have done a good job of staying in touch. It's special, really. One of those winning combos life hands you.

I love that.

Scarf ethics

Oprah can't get into Hermes. They wouldn't buzz her in. What's the world coming to?

I've been known to boycott brands for less of an offense. My conscience says stay away. But oh how I wish I hadn't just perused the website two weeks ago. It's a great site. You can click on a scarf and enlarge it to see the pattern up close. Each one is a work of art.

I own one Hermes scarf. I bought it about 12 years ago in San Diego. I was a sports writer at the time, so I told the saleswoman I wore a lot of jeans, boots and blazers, sort of sporty chic. She pulled out the absolute perfect scarf all done in rich blues, blacks and browns. There's an Indian and a horse. It's gorgeous. I feel like a million bucks every time I wear it.

What a dilemma.

Lessons in language

After spending some time last weekend with my niece (almost 2) and nephew (3), it occurs to me that learning a language at their respective ages and at my very adult age has a lot of parallels.

We've watched these children store words and then delight in the sounds when they come bursting forth from their mouths. My nephew read the word "Tarrytown" off a white board when my mother wrote it and I almost fell off my chair. Clearly, he's past the storing stage and now feels bold in his delivery. My niece appears to be taking the words in, readying herself to use them at the opportune time.

I'm somewhere in between. Not with English, of course, but with French. I work for a real estate company partially based in France. The president is French. Many of the agents are either French or speak French. I am almost constantly surrounded by people speaking French. In my nearly two months there, I have gone from a paralyzing fear of speaking the language to actually trying some on for size. I ask more questions about expressions and uses. I pick up more of what people around me are saying. And I'm certainly storing some for future use.

It's kind of a fun adventure. At any age.

Fellow writer

Reading Anne Lamott inspires my writer and delights my reader. I have a copy of her collection of essays, Plan B, Further Thoughts On Faith that I have been savoring.

Today on the PATH train, I read an essay titled, "Untitled." What a fine piece of writing. There is a richness to her writing, a beautiful flow. She writes, "I have an organic life, finally, not necessarily the one people imagined for me, or tried to get me to have. I have the life I longed for. I have become the woman I hardly dared imagine I could be."

That in an essay about being in her 50s. So wise, scathingly honest, sweet.

I love good writers.

On fear and feathers

A feather blew into my path yesterday. I picked it up. As I've written several times before, I always see that as a sign that the Universe is saying, "Write, Nancy, write."

Today, another feather. As I was marveling at its meaning, at how persistent the Universe can be, I found yet another. Write, Nancy, write.

Yes, I'm writing a book. But my writing schedule has become erratic since taking a part-time job. I like the financial freedom and the structure it provides in my life. I'm working on maximizing my non-work time. And then comes the repeated message -- Write, Nancy, write.

So I see the feathers and keep walking to the PATH station. A large cricket hops by my feet and it causes me to start. I have a critter issue, after all. But it makes me think about my fears and how irrational they are. Hmmmmm.

Once on the train, I pull out the copy of Ladies Home Journal I bought this morning because it had Madonna on the cover. Bam. More inspiration. What a wonderful Q&A.

I have always liked Madonna. She expresses on big topics like religion and sexuality. No holds barred. No worries about what people will think. I need to do that better. It's honest. It's interesting. It's real. It's art.

Madonna talks about her spiritual quest and how her husband was also on one when she met him: "He was approaching it from an intellectual point of view, and I was approaching it from an intuitive and emotional point of view, which is the essential difference between men and women anyway."

I am so aligned with that. And with this: "No one is encouraged to have a spiritual life -- if you want to have a spiritual life now, you're considered a geek or a weirdo, or you're a religious zealot or a nut."

She also admits to sometimes "showing off" in her career, but talks about how her goal was ultimately to help people with this persistent message: "If you're really passionate about something, no matter where you are, no matter who you are, no matter what you've done or where you've come from, just go for it."

To augment the reading experience, there are fabulous, full-page photos of her in her majestic home. In two of them, much to my squeamish surprise, she is with a mouse. In one, it is on her shoulder. In the other, she's face-to-face with it. Gross. And yet not. There she is. No fear.

Write, Nancy, write.

Soured

This morning I rode the PATH train into the city with glee. A specimen of a man stood across the aisle from where I sat. He stood despite the fact that there were plenty of seats.

His back was to me, which was just fine because what a view it was. He had broad shoulders. Nice legs. He was dressed in khaki shorts and a crisp white polo shirt. White sneakers. I studied every sinew, every move he made for the 10-minute ride.

When we pulled into the World Trade Center station, he dropped a crumbled paper towel on the floor of the train. He tried to be slick about it. The train was spotless otherwise.

Damn.

Pedicure

Every two weeks I get a pedicure. It's cheap, the salon is a block from my home, and it makes me feel good. The Asian women that run the place are efficient to a fault and I don't understand anything they say to each other. Plus, several of them give me the evil eye when I walk in because I always ask for Sammy (her "American" name) -- it clearly pisses them off, but thrills the heck out of Sammy.

Today, as she scrubbed and massaged my feet, I tried to tune out the sounds of The Jerry Springer Show on the TV. But no. There was a woman screaming at a man, "You slept with my mother." And his response, "But I was there to see you." And her, "But you slept with my mother!" And him, "But I was there to see you." The next thing you know, mother and daughter are fist fighting.

Enchanting, as a dear friend would say.

My toes look damn good.

My night

OK. It's official. I've decided tonight is Nancy Night.

That means no phone, no computer.

Starting at 8 o'clock, just stillness.

What a great idea.

Skirt the issue

Skirts are in. I've been wearing them for the first time in years. What a feeling. So feminine. So flirty. Like it's natural, the way they swing and swoosh when I walk. The black one with the drop pleats; the white one with the daisies stitched in tropical colors; the multi-colored one in pinks and greens and blues.

I'm a girl.

Whoa, when did that happen?

Cool air

I have air conditioning! I have air conditioning! I have joy! I have comfort!

Thank you, brother. Thank you, cousin.

Oh what a fabulous night's sleep it's going to be ...

Thank you

Sometimes it's easy to forget how much love and support I have in my life. That's why the Universe has taken the time to remind me this week. My family and friends are thoughtful, caring, good to the core.

Sometimes I marvel. Sometimes it brings tears to my eyes. Sometimes I just say "Thank you."

I am blessed.

Old 'Times'

There was a time when I didn't miss a single Sunday of reading The New York Times with a big cup of coffee. Then a while back when I was trimming expenses I cut out the newspaper subscription, plus I started a spiritual Sunday routine of church and time with friends afterward.

Today after church I took a long walk (over 50 blocks!), hopped on the PATH back to Hoboken and bought a copy of The Times. Then I sat in a really cool air-conditioned place near my home and drank endless glasses of iced tea. Section by section, I devoured the paper.

It seems like a small thing, but honestly it was like I recaptured a piece of my old self. I've been so excited by all the physical, emotional and spiritual changes I've undergone in the past year and rightly so. But there are things from my "former" life that are ready to resurface. And to that I say, "Welcome Back!"

Coupling

Today I've been thinking a lot about couples. Probably because I spoke to a woman, a new client, who is in one of the few marriages that actually sounds appealing to me. She and her husband, a friend of mine, didn't set out to "be married"; it just happened. And it's obvious from being around them.

Here's the thing. I can almost always tell the difference between people who meet and fall in love and get married from people who get married because it's the "right" time in their lives or they just want to be married. And I believe that the latter, sad scenario is most of America.

It baffles me so. I must be a freak of nature. What is the appeal? Trust me, if a great guy comes along, I'll be the first to dive in and revel in it. But I can't imagine living life in that state of longing or putting things I want to do on hold. I like my solitary time way too much. The big question may be, why did it take me so long to figure this out?

One of the coolest things I've ever heard about marriage was a comment a co-worker made to me years ago when I worked at a newspaper. She and her husband had just gotten married and when I asked her what it was like she said, "Like being alone, only better." Now she gets it, I thought.

All this heavy thinking today -- done amidst errands and house cleaning that felt incredibly good -- has also made me realize I have created a good life for myself. The test? Ten years from now, I want my life to resemble what it is now in most important ways. Sure, we can toss in some travel, a beach house, a great guy. But let's keep the writing, spiritual nourishment, coaching, culture, family, friendships, fab home, urban pace, emotional growth.

So appealing.

Man and dog

This morning I heard a man talking in front of my first-floor apartment. The talking turned to ranting, so I looked out the window and saw him sitting on the step. I realized it was a homeless man I often see around town; he was, as always, with his dog.

He was yelling at people who walked by. He started a diatribe about abortion being murder. He took his dog's face in his hands, "I'm a man. You're a dog. One man. One dog. Right?"

He has always seemed harmless but this time he was making me nervous. I was trying to decide whether to call the police when I saw him walking across the street to the park. One pants leg was cuffed almost to the knee. He had a little limp. Sad.

I was glad he left on his own.

Collages

I just came out of a nasty headache fog. The kind that hurts in your ears and teeth. Translated, that means I took two Excedrin and I'm in a state of extreme energy. Caffeine will do that to you.

And so I suddenly was thinking about manifestation and how we bring about desired results in our lives. And, don't ask me why, but I had the urge to go to my closet and get out all of my collages. You see, when I teach The Artist's Way I always join the group in creating a collage representing where we are at the time, what appeals to us, etc. I found a dozen of them and started checking them out.

One of the prevailing themes is travel, specifically to France. There's a Jean Paul Gaultier ad showing a woman in a backless dress with Paris written down her back. There are Eiffel Towers. There is a map of France. There are headlines -- Paris Bistros: The Hot New Chefs; The Paris Option. There is simply the word Paris. There is a picture of a travel guide to Paris. There are cafes and gardens and fashion. There are rooms decorated with French flair.

It's madness, I tell you. Pure madness.

Stay tuned ...

Shock jock

People often think I've lost my marbles when I say I listen to Howard Stern. After all, I'm a 43-year-old intelligent woman, not a frat boy. I don't mention it often, but when I do it's usually met with incredulity or silence.

This morning was a clear example of why I tune in. He interviewed Paul Anka and what a phenomenal piece of interviewing it was. As one who grew up with a lot of music in the house, including plenty of Sinatra, I am quite familiar with Anka's work. What I didn't know about was the extent to which he hung out with the Rat Pack or what great stories he has to tell. Stern drew him out on so much good stuff. Before long, the phone calls started pouring in, one compliment after another on the interview.

It was right up there with one of my favorite Stern interviews -- Darrell Hammond. As a former daily journalist and current freelancer, I have immense respect for someone who can draw people out in a conversational way. Stern is the master.

Not so shocking to me.

Inside out

The other night I watched The Actor's Studio with Angelina Jolie. I was more than pleasantly surprised. Aside from her aesthetic beauty, I realized she has something I want to exude -- confidence that oozes. It bubbles from the inside out.

Fire. Naturalness. Independence and passion. To just be, but in a meaningful way. This is what I strive for.

Quote

Travel is so broadening. You meet such interesting people when you go first class. If forced to choose, I'd probably name Paris as my favorite all-time destination. The city of light! Birthplace of chic! Home of the Mona Lisa!

-- Erica Kane, Having It All

Day off

My feet can attest right now that it has been a full Sunday.

It started with church and a wonderful sermon about decisions we make on the spot. How does the past affect the present in that regard? Hmmmm. Very thought-provoking.

Then came a meeting after church, one where we brainstormed our mission statement. Very exciting to assess and project and define our very special New Thought community.

Then a quick lunch with friends. A slammin' hamburger.

Time for a visit to the Metropolitan Museum of Art and the Chanel exhibit with a friend. Kind of cool to see some of the Coco and Lagerfeld "standards" but overall not particularly compelling or exceptional. Managed to squeeze in a quick viewing of my favorite Monets and Renoirs on the second floor before making the 50-block trek to the PATH train.

Got home and my feet cried with joy when I changed from sandals to sneakers. Hit the grocery store and had a few neat conversations in the aisles. Made some dinner. Watched Angelina Jolie on The Actor's Studio and marveled at her beauty. Checking out the Tony Awards as we speak.

Did I pack it in today or what?

Meeting people

So I go to a party tonight (well, technically, last night). It's on a rooftop in Manhattan. The food is divine. There is a white sangria concoction that I consume with abandon. I spend much of the evening in a hammock surrounded by fabulous people. A playwright, a prosecutor, an advocate for reproductive rights, a documentary film maker. Others mingle in and out, but our "clique" remains mostly intact. We have real conversation.

This is why I love New York.

So I get on the PATH train to come home. I'm feeling pretty good (see sangria note above). A guy gets on the train and sits next to me. I check him out. Hmmmmmm. He is clearly checking me out as well. As we're riding towards Hoboken I can see he is particularly enthralled by my feet. What a hoot.

He asks me some inocuous question about whether we have to change trains to get to Hoboken. We chat a little but then we're quiet again. We arrive in Hoboken and I start walking out of the station. He catches up with me and asks if I'd like to have a drink. I'm ready to say no and then wonder why. In a flash I change my mind and say, "Sure." We introduce ourselves and head to a bar.

The conversation is good. The chemistry is very good. Definite heat. He asks where I got my pedicure. Says he noticed it on the train. Likes the pink toes with the pink sandals. I laugh, knowing I had him pegged on the train.

We finish the drink and walk outside. He says, "Can I get your number?" I smile and reply, "Well, is that a wedding ring?" He looks sheepish. "Yes, it is." I extend my hand for a shake. "Thanks for the drink."

I smile the whole two blocks home.

Seer

Today I had a lovely conversation with a sweet, wise friend. We made a plan. Then he asked if everything was OK. He senses things, you see.

I smiled the kind of smile you can hear through the phone. Then we talked about writing and meditating and life philosophies. We discussed gratitude and spirit and prioritizing.

Then he reminded me what a good place I'm in right now.

Timely words. Magic words. Lovely.

Friendship

There's nothing like some fresh perspective from a trusted person. Easy laughter. Wine. Catching up. Dinner. More catching up. Coffee.

There's nothing like a dear, smart, funny friend. Nothing at all.

Mood madness

Today I've been in a mood. I can't pinpoint why. I've decided to stop trying.

At one time this was my default disposition. Now it's so rare that it freaks me out when it hits. That's progress.

So I'll have patience, love myself through it. This too shall pass. It's all for the good.