Write Thinking

Perspectives from a writer & life coach indulging her desire to intersect those two passions

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Location: Hoboken, New Jersey, United States

I am a practicing life coach who is currently writing a life coaching column called Game Plan for Foxbusiness.com: http://nancola.com/pages/press.html. I am also working on a book about the power and magic of life coaching.

Sunday, July 31, 2005

Sass

I have a male friend who recently called me Alexis Colby. He has, at times, called me Bette Davis. He says it as a compliment, usually with unabashed affection and a big, fat smile. I eat it up most of the time.

Every once in a while, though, it gives me pause. Ten years ago, a woman I worked with at The Trenton Times once told me that because I always said she was a riot, she felt obligated to be funny around me all the time. I don't think I fully understood that back then, but I do now.

I'm not always tough and sassy. I can be. Sometimes I like to be. I have a female friend who is also an independent sort. She has a strong male energy. No doubt about it, we can be "broads" with the best of 'em. People often love that we seem fearless and have a biting wit.

But here's the rub. Sometimes we're none of the above. What then?

Saturday, July 30, 2005

Suburban escape

I went to visit my sister today. A nice train ride away to suburbia. Got to spend time with my almost 2-year-old niece.

While little Gina napped and stayed with her dad in the late afternoon, my sister and I went to the new Barnes and Noble near her home. It was heavenly. We collected a stack of books and sat on easy chairs reading.

The highlights of my reading, discoveries if you will:

The effect of any writing on the public mind is mathematically measurable by its depth of thought. How much water does it draw? If it awaken you to think, if it lift you from your feet with the great voice of eloquence, then the effect is to be wide, slow, permanent, over the minds of men; if the pages instruct you not, they will die like flies in the hour. -- Ralph Waldo Emerson

How happy is the little Stone
That rambles in the Road alone,
And doesn't care about Careers
And Exigencies never fears --
Whose Coat of elemental Brown
A passing Universe put on,
And independent as the Sun
Associates or glows alone,
Fulfilling absolute Decree
In casual simplicity --
-- Emily Dickinson

I also had some fun with a Dream Dictionary and a neat little horoscope book. Leafed through Vogue on the train ride home.

A good day all around.

Friday, July 29, 2005

A new level

I'm raising a metaphorical glass to new friendships, new clients, new possibilities. New beginnings. A new way of looking at things. Renewal.

New, new, new, new new.

Cheers.

Thursday, July 28, 2005

Big things

Went to meet a new (!) life coaching client at the Hyatt Regency near Grand Central Station tonight. Had to convince myself it was safe, as the recent events in London have me a little cautious and even skittish.

Anyway, what a wonderful session! This job is so invigorating sometimes. There's such a crackly energy in a good session and it makes me come away as inspired as the client. I'm excited about my ongoing work with her.

I decided to walk back to the PATH station afterwards. As I headed south down Fifth Ave. and crossed 38th St., I looked up at the Empire State Building. Oh my God. I've seen that landmark so many times but sometimes it takes my breath away. It was lit in all red tonight. Standing just four blocks away I was awed by its enormity.

That's all.

Wednesday, July 27, 2005

Coaching lesson

I was explaining life coaching to someone today. He was intrigued, had never heard of it before. Was trying to grasp the value I give to my clients. His eyes widened at the fees I earn.

"What if they don't achieve the goals they set?" he asked.

"It's completely up to them," I said.

"You have no responsibility?" he replied with a laugh.

"Well, most people know what they have to do to achieve their goals. They hire me because they want to be accountable to someone," I explained.

He was amused, maybe skeptical. I should have likened it to a personal trainer. That's a more common profession, so people grasp the concept better. Most people know what they need to do to be healthy and fit. They hire a trainer to keep them honest.

I love that about coaching. It allows me to see accomplishments, shifts, insights in my clients. They often form better habits, learn the value of baby steps. I saw two former clients last weekend and both talked of where the coaching process has put them in terms of their everyday lives and longterm goals.

Ahhhhh ...

Monday, July 25, 2005

Three-ring binders

I bought 12 binders at Staples today. The half-inch ones. Six black and six white. I use them to give coaching clients when they sign up with me; I fill them with worksheets and other coaching info.

I call this strategy, "Buy it and they will come." I'm ready to increase my client base and this just gets the energy rolling in the right direction. Come one, come all. Let me give your life a dramatic lift.

Come on. You know you want to.

Sunday, July 24, 2005

The mouse

Lessons from the mouse:

-- empowerment
-- take back your time
-- stop letting fear get in the way of things you want to do
-- appreciate with all your heart random acts of kindness
-- practice with all your heart random acts of kindness
-- take help from others with grace
-- people have an immense capacity to surprise you, for the better and for the worse
-- expand your circle of friends and do a better job of cultivating existing friendships
-- open up your world

Prayer to the Universe:

If there are any further lessons to be learned from the mouse, please give me the courage and strength to absorb them in a meaningful way. Give me joy. Give me grace. Be with me as I walk this path. Be with me as my fears dissipate, as I learn to hold true love, true financial prosperity, professional success beyond my wildest dreams. I am willful. I am strong. I will weather this and conquer it. I will not be stopped. It is my time. Thy will be done.

And so it is.

Saturday, July 23, 2005

In the moment

The humid weather gave way to glorious sunshine and a cool breeze. I spent the morning enjoying it on a bench at the waterfront, writing, sipping coffee.

The afternoon, well that's been devoted to work in a cafe via laptop.

Now? Off to the city for strolling and dinner. Thrust back into the postcard weather.

Gotta bask in it while I can.

Friday, July 22, 2005

Feeling

I feel calm.
I feel hyper.
I feel charged.
I feel low-key.
I feel emotional.
I feel even-keeled.
I feel confused.
I feel clear.
I feel loved.
I feel lost.
I feel rich.
I feel deprived.
I feel expressive.
I feel shut down.
I feel dense.
I feel brilliant.
I feel sexy.
I feel fragile.
I feel.

Thursday, July 21, 2005

Time matters

I've been taking back my time. Something I need to do every so often. No one was taking it from me. Just me taking it from me. And man, am I tough to reckon with.

This week I have spent a lot of time in a cafe, laptop in tow. Mornings, a few evenings. My "bread and butter" job is from 2-7 p.m. every day. That leaves me time for my creative and business pursuits. What was I doing with that time before? Who knows. Who cares. This is partly mouse-inspired empowerment and partly just a long overdue shift.

Then I went into the city and realized I was a half hour early for work. In a conscious attempt to continue savoring my time, I bought the August issue of Vogue and then purchased a Diet Coke from a hot dog vendor. He devoured me with his eyes, asked if I was Italian, told me he was Greek. I smiled and then found a ledge at FIT to sit and sip and browse.

My time. My way. Well, my better way.

Wednesday, July 20, 2005

Big idea

I'm working on a fun project. It's one of those going-out-on-a-limb, taking-a-chance kind of things. An idea I had to run with and pitch. A long shot? Remains to be seen.

But I love the fact that I'm seeing it to fruition. Way cool.

Stay tuned ...

Tuesday, July 19, 2005

Marvelous Madonna

I can't help myself. I just get the biggest kick out of Madonna sometimes. In today's New York Post, there's a photo spread basically touting the story on Madonna in the August issue of Vogue. In one full-page picture, she's snuggled in bed with her two children. It's a striking photo. But that's not what's giving me a kick.

The print on the bedding -- sheets, comforter, even the headboard -- is replications of pages of a London newspaper. I love that Madonna surrounds herself so deliciously with what most celebrities might agree is the best and worst thing about being famous -- the press. Ha. She just stares it down. Again and again.

The woman stopped at nothing to get her music heard. No topic was off limits in her songs, not even the Catholic Church. No act seemed outside the box. She just continues to push the envelope, even in small ways like posing with a mouse or incorporating the press into her home decor.

Simply delightful.

Monday, July 18, 2005

Back in control

The mouse came back last night. I fled. Slept on a kind neighbor's couch.

Tonight it's a different story. I've decided to empower myself. I must, must, must see this through. I tore the place apart, cleaned behind furniture, purged. It felt good, like I was doing something within my control. I purchased devices that send sound waves through the walls to keep critters away; they're in place now.

Time will tell. I will deal.

Sunday, July 17, 2005

Fear itself II

So I finally got to sleep last night in the wee hours of the morning. It was ultimately a victory, spending the night here knowing I had seen a mouse earlier. Now it'll be one day at a time, one night at a time. Chipping away at fear. Sounds a little crazy, even to me.

I can do this. I must.

Fear itself

OK, so there was a mouse in my house this evening. I sat on my couch, so pleased with my decision to forego an invitation from friends to see The Wedding Crashers and to have turned down an offer for a drink from a new acquaintance. I would write, relax, read. A perfect evening.

And then I saw it scurry across my living room floor into my bedroom. I screamed, jumped up, put sneakers on my bare feet. I grabbed the phone and called one of my closest friends who happens to be a neighbor. He was in Manhattan. I was trembling, so happy to hear his voice through the cellphone.

He laughed. Told me it was the mouse I had "summoned." You see, I have been talking lately about the Madonna photo spread in Ladies Home Journal and how ballsy it is that she poses with a mouse in two of the pictures. I have even thought of going to a pet store and holding a mouse in an attempt to stare down a fear I know is irrational.

That said, I don't necessarily want the lesson while the situation is unfolding. So my friend tells me to go buy glue traps or, better yet, come into the city and party with him. Lovely. So helpful. Thank you for the support. "What do you want me to do? Hunt it down and kill it?" No, how about see me through it? "You're being irrational," he says. Duh. Isn't that true of most fears? Are we really going to fall if we go too close to floor-to-ceiling windows on the 40th floor?

Suddenly I see the mouse scurry back the other way. I scream. "My ear!" he says. OK, this cry for help is going nowhere. I need to hang up and deal with my situation. I call my brother. "I know you can't do anything, but it'll just help to hear your voice," I say. He is soothing, supportive. Encourages me to try to summon the courage to do something proactive.

I grab my phone and my keys and go buy the glue traps. Hoboken is alive with party-minded folks and I'm pretty much oblivious. I need steel wool. I go to four stores before I find some (the kind with the soap, but they'll have to do). On this journey my friend calls to see how I'm doing. I express disbelief that he isn't there for me. Again he tells me I'm being irrational. Yes, I know. But in my loved ones' most irrational moments, I would run to them if I thought it would make them feel even a little bit better. The phone call doesn't end well.

I come home and my neighbor from across the hall is coming back from walking her dog. I'm thrilled to see a friendly face. She is heaven sent. "I know it's kind of irrational, but would you consider coming into my apartment with me while I put down these traps and stuff some spots with steel wool?" I say. She says she'd be happy to. She brings Benji, who sniffs around my apartment with abandon. He is unfazed. She says he'd be barking if he sensed anything. OK, this is promising.

After seeing the SOS pads I have, she goes into her apartment and gets me the kind of steel wool I really need. So I get a flashlight and start stuffing the place I thought it may have come in. I'm pretty sure I'm right. She then gets me a chop stick from her apartment, says it's the perfect size to help me jam the steel wool into the holes. She's right. While I'm there, I notice the block of green poison the exterminator put down is crumbled to pieces -- yes! The mouse has likely consumed it. Plus, I think it went back down the hole. Good signs.

I tell my neighbor about the guy who lived in her place before she did. When I had a little critter over five years ago, this guy was a gem in many ways but made it clear he was not going into my apartment. He would have no parts of it. "Isn't it ironic? A guy wouldn't come in, but here you are right by my side," I said to her. We laughed.

Back then, I had a friend who lived in The Village. I called her in hysterics and she said, "Come." No questions asked. So I packed a bag and stayed with her for two nights. She knew me well, knew I wouldn't sleep. Such a gift, that kind of gesture.

But back to the present situation. My friend calls. He came back from the city early (1 a.m.) to see how I was. We get a bite to eat; well, actually he does because I can't eat. I calmly tell him I don't understand how he could just ignore my trembling voice and not be there for me. He explains that he didn't want to enable me, my fear. He felt I needed to deal with it myself.

I strongly disagree, express my disappointment. We reach an impasse.

As I sit here back on my couch, my fear seems to have subsided a bit. I'm not sure about sleep tonight. But my neighbor left her number in case I need a place to stay.

Deep breath. Sigh. Forge on.

Friday, July 15, 2005

Drinks

I have had my share of Reisling tonight. Met some friends at a local place for a drink. Such fun.

It is so rare that I actually crave a drink. Today I was thinking about that drink the last two hours at work. I know this restaurant/bar has a quality wine list. I knew there was a good chance I'd be drinking a cold, crisp wine. I was right. It hit the spot. I'm feeling fine.

That's all.

Thursday, July 14, 2005

Rejection?!

There was an op-ed piece in The New York Times today by a book editor who turned down the original Harry Potter manuscript. It was written humorously, but I couldn't help but marvel at the thought. It's such a perfect lesson.

Rejections happen. Ask Dr. Seuss. Ask Stephen King. Ask Jack Canfield of Chicken Soup for the Soul fame. All fortunes waiting to happen.

Thank you.

Wednesday, July 13, 2005

Terror alert

The bombings in London are taking a toll. It's subtle, but definitely palpable.

Yesterday in Penn Station I heard a guy on his cell phone tell the person on the other end that there had been "no bomb, so far so good."

There is increased police presence in the subways. There are more announcements about keeping your eyes open for suspicious behavior. Today I found myself reporting an idle plastic bag, the kind used for groceries, because it was full and fat.

I confess to being glad I rarely travel at rush hour.

It's a whole new world. Oh joy of joys.

Death and life

I went to a viewing today. A good friend of my mother's died after a long illness. Seeing old pictures of her brought back memories of her smile and zingy wit.

The train ride home was uneventful but seemed to take forever. I had to change twice and each time I just missed one. Not a tragedy. Just an annoyance.

When I got home I caught a glimpse of a centipede on my wall. I went into the kitchen for the Raid and then sprayed it until it died.

I turned on the TV to unwind a little. Ferris Bueller was standing on a parade float singing Twist and Shout. I love, love, love that scene! I cranked up the volume. So full of life.

A fitting way to end this day.

Monday, July 11, 2005

Among friends

I've been thinking a lot about friendship lately. Sometimes it seems worth pausing and being thankful for the people I've attracted into my life. And, boy, have I attracted some fabulous people.

My most enduring friendship, more than 15 years strong, is with a fellow shopper, a girlie girl, a mother of four. And then there's the fellow journalist, sassy broad, conversationalist. And then the insightful, spiritual, easy-to-be-with man who lives on my block.

I love spending time with all of them, can chat endlessly on the phone, count on them in a crunch. I marvel at their choices and gestures and capacity for love.

I am blessed. I am so proud to call them my friends.

Sunday, July 10, 2005

The Stranger

Wow. Finished The Stranger and found it to be so fascinating. I was particularly moved by a scene in which a magistrate talks to the main character in jail. He tries to get him to turn to God as he faces his murder trial.

But he cut me off and urged me one last time, drawing himself up to his full height and asking me if I believed in God. I said no. He sat down indignantly. He said it was impossible; all men believed in God, even those who turn their backs on him. That was his belief, and if he were ever to doubt it, his life would become meaningless. "Do you want my life to be meaningless?" he shouted. As far as I could see, it didn't have anything to do with me, and I told him so.

I love this passage for what it conveys, for its timelessness, for how it shines a spotlight on the fine line between faith and desperation to believe in something. So real. So bracing.

Such a great read.

Saturday, July 09, 2005

Sitting still

I went to the salon for a pedicure today. While my toes were under the dryer, the woman at the next dryer struck up a conversation. A third woman joined in. It was about how we dislike that part of the process, the waiting.

"I have absolutely no patience for it," I said with a laugh. "That's why I don't get a manicure."

"I hate just sitting here," the woman next to me said.

"I'm with you," the third woman said.

I couldn't help but comment on how pathetic we sounded and what a reflection it was on American society. We all laughed.

I thought about it later and wondered, were our lives so chock full of important things that we couldn't sit still for 15 minutes? Shouldn't we be coveting time to open a book or magazine or perhaps just meditate? Or even people watch?

Hmmmm. Maybe a manicure is in my near future after all.

Thursday, July 07, 2005

Fantasy commute

I walked out of work at 7 p.m. Made my way to the subway. Walked towards Sixth Ave. along 30th St. I hear an enthusiastic "Hi!" and realize it's a man smiling at me as he drives his SUV along 30th. I smile.

"How are you this evening?" he says, half hanging out the window and seemingly glad the traffic is backed up so he can cruise slowly next to me as I walk. "I'm fine, thank you. Have a nice evening," I say.

"Would you like to have dinner with me? Pick a restaurant. Any restaurant," he persists. I shake my head and with a flip of my hair say "No, thank you." But truth be told I'm thinking of restaurant possibilities in my devious mind. Damn. I know I won't go. But how much fun is the fantasy of picking a place? Filet mignon, come to Mama. Lobster tail, oh yeah. A crisp glass of Riesling, who's your Daddy?

Scary what my fantasies consist of when a guy tries to pick me up at dinnertime.

Dessert, well, that's another story.

Wednesday, July 06, 2005

Book notes

It was time to start reading another book. I had had a good run of spiritual books, so I figured I was up for some literature.

I picked The Stranger by Camus. I'm about halfway through. I'm intrigued by the staccato writing style, how the story is unfolding, where it's going. What I like best is I'm tackling a book from my own shelves. I have too many books I haven't read! (Can you say Anna Karenina?)

And another thing -- I think I'm finding they're all pretty much spiritual. I mean, if I can find the spiritual side of an Erica Kane book, I can likely find it anywhere. Yes?

Tuesday, July 05, 2005

Walking her talk

So I'm reading an article on Beliefnet.com, an interview with Susan Sarandon actually, and I find myself saying, "Yes, that's it." Just this past weekend I was having a conversation with a friend about the shift that occurs when you do the right thing because it comes naturally as opposed to because "it's the right thing." It's a subtle shift, and such a gratifying one.

In the interview, Susan Sarandon talks about the rite of passage she practices with her kids. They take on a project that involves helping others. For example, her 16-year-old son and his friends joined her and her friends in putting up drywall in a four-story brownstone in Harlem; it was through Habitat For Humanity. She says:

It's so rewarding to know you're capable of doing that. I want my kids to understand the joy of that. Not the self-congratulatory "I'm such a good person" kind of thing, but just the sense of accomplishment. You're working with people who are going to live there.

So I would hope they would develop some kind of habit that involves understanding that their life is so full they can afford to give in all kinds of ways to other people. I consider that to be baseline spirituality.

The heart is a muscle like every other muscle. The more you use it ...

Yes. That's it.

Monday, July 04, 2005

Happy holiday

It has been an introspective day. So many things swirling around my mind -- creativity, finances, spirituality, relationships, love, faith. It feels like another important transition period, a time of evaluating priorities, making a concrete plan.

I just finished reading A Return To Love by Marianne Williamson and found it to be so full of wisdom and illumination that it was impossible to digest it all in one reading. It took me a while to get into it, but once I did I realized what all the fuss was about. The overarching message is that we can choose to approach every situation in our lives from a place of love. What a beautiful challenge.

Once again, I feel as if I read a book precisely at the time I needed to the most. It played such a significant role in my weekend of deep thought and profound relaxation.

Happy Independence Day to me.

Sunday, July 03, 2005

The grassy knoll (part 2)

I can't believe I ever considered leaving Hoboken this weekend. I have spent more time in a chair at the waterfront than should be allowed by law. It has been glorious.

This morning it was me and coffee and The New York Times. Later it was me and a friend talking and then taking our respective quiet time. Pure serenity.

What is it about a body of water that makes it so soothing and inspiring?

Saturday, July 02, 2005

The grassy knoll

Just steps from my apartment is a promenade along the Hudson River. There is a perfect spot I like to call the Grassy Knoll. It's a great place to take a chair and read or meditate. There are even some trees, so there's a choice of sun or shade.

Today, around 5 p.m., I brought my portable chair in a sack down there to hang with friends. I was equipped with my own, in-progress book manuscript, A Return To Love by Marianne Williamson, a bottle of water, watermelon, Milano cookies and a bag of tortilla chips. The weather was sunny and breezy. It was delightful.

We watched two cruise ships go by. We snacked. We each did our own thing, only occasionally interacting. I treasure the kind of relationship where people can just be with each other.

I worked on my book and even had a breakthrough. While going through my manuscript, I noticed a scene that I felt ended too abruptly. It was a kissing scene that escalated into near sex. I was shy about writing it, truth be told. Even at age 43, it's weird to reveal your sexual knowledge to the world at large. (It's not like you can stick a disclaimer in there -- Note to Mom and Dad: Please don't read the next two pages of this book. Ha!) But I wrote the scene in some detail and was happy with the way it came out.

I love the Grassy Knoll. Maybe tomorrow it'll be me and The New York Times ...

Friday, July 01, 2005

Stuffy

Where did this allergy attack come from?!

It's maddening, really. Watery eyes. Runny nose. Endless sneezes.

When it comes to this kind of stuff, I'm a full believer in trying to figure out the source. The humidity? Self-imposed stress? A combination of both?

Congestion, be gone.