What life presents

People I love are going through some awful times right now.

I am helpless. Somehow insulated.

Strength and peace. That is what I wish for them.

Dark fantasies

There will be chocolate in my very near future.

This is one of those beautiful cravings. It's serious and deep.

It won't be an impulse buy.

Nope.

Today it's a need,
not a want.

Bring it.

Monk-ish musings

A friend in a monastery has a blog. In one post he talks of his library duties and, as a book lover, I enjoyed his reflections about books that have been donated:

I enjoy labeling our books in short sessions of available time here and there. As I open them to their title page, I often come across clues of their past journey. Inscriptions tell of where, when or in what circumstances the book was acquired; “present from Mom, Christmas 1987”. Sometimes, something of a friendship appears; “God bless you both, Frank.”

Suddenly, books that were a personal enrichment become communal wealth and spread their wings. It’s a little bit like the feeding of the five thousand; “How many loaves have you? Go and see.”

Nice.

Madonna and child

There is a surreal swirl of cynicism around Madonna for adopting a boy from Malawi. After picking my jaw up off the floor, I am left with this question: When did we become such an angry country?

First, a disclaimer: I like most of Madonna’s music and quite a few of her messages, as I am drawn to people who push the envelope.

So of course I have been following the story about her adoption of a little boy named David and I can’t help cringing at the pettiness of people (and yes, some of them are members of the media). Madonna has been accused of using her wealth to expedite the adoption of the child, of being “picky” and of having ill intent.

What seems to be getting lost in all the madness is the welfare of the child. There are many, many children in this world who need a good home. By adopting one of them, Madonna isn’t taking the same opportunity away from anyone else. It’s not like a well-to-do person whose name is put at the top of the organ transplant list, thus robbing a middle- or lower-class individual of that organ. There are only so many organs to go around. Sadly, it’s a whole different story with children – there are plenty.

I know a few people who have gone through, are going through or are contemplating going through the arduous process of adopting a child from another country. It is emotional turmoil, seemingly never-ending paperwork, a sure test of a couple’s desire to have a child. Understand that I am not making light of those situations here. Some are motivated by a deep yearning to parent, others by a deep yearning to give a child a new lease on life or a combination of the two. But even if a couple has been diligently going through all the proper channels and is riddled with suspense and exhaustion, isn’t it “right thinking” to rise above that frustration when you hear a story like Madonna’s and be heartened that another child has been given a chance at life when so many are dying?

What this public hoopla is lacking – save for Oprah Winfrey and her audience, it seems – is the pro-child voice. Shouldn’t we want what’s best for all the unfortunate children who have been born into disease or poverty or loneliness above all else? Above our own need to be a parent. Above our own knee-jerk disdain for people who happen to earn more money than us. Above our dislike of the personality who did the adopting. A child who has pneumonia has a home. His father said he would have wound up burying him. Didn’t anyone else hear this when Madonna talked to Oprah this week?

Incidentally, it boggles the mind how in all of this some people are taking potshots at Oprah in a gleeful 2-for-1 bashing. What better sport than to criticize two self-made wealthy women simultaneously? Perhaps we need to develop our emotional intelligence. It’s not news that a person with more money than another can live in a bigger house, drive a snazzier car, take more exotic vacations. That’s life. We’re adults. Ideally, we make our way, learn, get stronger.

There is such a sense of entitlement in this country. Everyone wants what everyone else has. Everyone has something to say about what everyone else has. So much so that this Madonna story has became a spectacle in the court of public opinion. She has been called “picky” for selecting this child. Geez, I spend a few minutes choosing just the right head of lettuce in the grocery store. Can’t a person adopt a child she’s drawn to?

Plus there’s a whole camp questioning Madonna’s motives. A woman decided to take a child who might not live through his fifth birthday into her home and give him a real chance to thrive in the world. She had the means. She had the opportunity. She had the love.

How awful. Let’s nail her to a cross.

Opportunity

Something fell out of the sky.

Maybe I'll catch it.

Take me away

Today I was transported.

I heard a little boy with a delightful British accent say, "May I have a drink of water?" and I felt like I had entered a Dickens novel.

I rode the PATH train and got deep into a New York Times article titled, "Just How Good Can Italy Get?" and I may as well have been there eating the chocolate and hazelnuts or sausage myself. And then this line about the angel hair-like pasta called tagliatelle: These noodles carry butter as if they were created to.

Transported.

Validation

Rarely does a piece speak to me with the uncanny timing of columnist Lisa Kogan's in the November issue of O magazine. It's about Thanksgiving and families, specifically hers, but of course it's a universal theme.

One of my favorite passages:

... while I hardly qualify as the family's black sheep, in the race for odd duck I've broken away from the pack and am currently maintaining a significant lead.

One of my other favorite passages:

I'm not entirely sure why I never married. I've been accused of being too picky, too career oriented, too selfish, too difficult ... frankly I've always found myself to be utterly delightful (or at least no more ambitious, selfish, difficult than any of my married friends). Still in the interest of fairness, I invite those with opposing viewpoints to go ahead and vent away in their columns.

What can I possibly add to that?

Haze

Headache. Three days running.

Please make it go away.

Sentiment

I feel enveloped with kindness.

How very nice
to be loved.

Growth spurts

My book is my baby. I am proud and pleased to shepherd its growth into full-fledged adulthood.

What a job.

Creative core

I just had new business cards made and they bear the new tagline for my life coaching business:

Connecting you to your creative core

Every day I like it more, as I see how perfectly it reflects the people I coach and the goals they strive to meet. At their creative core might be a book, a photo scrapbook project, knitting, singing, acting, pilates, comedy, decorating a room, growing a garden. Or it might be that they want a new career that taps into that creative core.

The bottom line is that they want to connect to it, or they find out they do through the process of the coaching.

That's a big message in a little business card. Very gratifying.

Oliver's twist

Saw life coach Martha Beck speak a few weeks ago. She quoted from a favorite poem of hers by Mary Oliver:

Tell me, what is it you plan to do
with your one wild and precious life?

Ahhhhhhhhh ...

High place

I've been thinking about how over the course of our lives we sometimes put people on pedestals. It's such a bad idea.

The person on the pedestal has no way to go but down. The person who holds someone in that high place is setting himself up for disappointment by holding someone to impossibly high standards.

Maybe we should welcome flaws with open arms, develop our opinions with our own minds, love without unreasonable expectations.

It's so much healthier.

Walton's mountain

Talk about TV I never thought I'd find fascinating. A show on CNBC about ... drumroll, please ... Wal-Mart. It's called The Age of Wal-Mart and it covers the innovation, the success and the negative headlines of this massive corporation.

First I watched, mouth agape, as smock-clad managers filed off of buses, filled an auditorium and did the Wal-Mart cheer. It was like a revival. People so revved up at 7 a.m. -- kind of astounding.

The technology Wal-Mart uses to gauge consumer habits and stock and all sorts of other things is also impressive. For example, if a hurricane is due to hit a particular area, data shows people buy a lot of strawberry Pop Tarts so they track the weather and stock up in relevant areas.

Perhaps most interesting to me was seeing the location in Bentonville, Arkansas where people can pitch their products in hopes Wal-Mart will want to stock them. There were over 50 rooms where people were pitching things, what one guy called "the Super Bowl" for someone trying to sell a product. So much hope in this segment, as people laid their creativity and innovation and finances on the line.

That's a lot of power.

Tuned in

Seeing Barbra Streisand Monday night is still washing over me. It is pretty surreal to sit in Madison Square Garden and hear that voice reverberating from the sound system.

I've been thinking about (and listening to) my favorite Streisand song, Don't Rain On My Parade. It delights me beyond measure. What I've realized is that if you're in a state of true emotional health, no one can rain on your parade. Interesting insight, I think. A nuance I hadn't noticed before. And the song ends with that very declaration:

Get ready for me life, 'cause I'm a comer
I simply gotta march, my heart's a drummer
No, nobody is gonna rain on my parade

Nope.

Monthly message

I am blown away by the responses I got to my October life coaching newsletter. Just a sampling:

I can't tell you how much I do enjoy and look forward to your newsletters each month! I forward them on to my best friend every month. She's hooked!! Take care and keep 'em coming!!

I forwarded this to many of my friends. Actually, I always forward your newsletters ... and even print them and put them up in my office. People love it! Just wanted you to know.

So gratifying for this writer. Check it out:

http://nancola.com/pages/newsletter.html

Special effects

I read with great interest today a story in The Arts section of The New York Times titled, "A New Writer is Soaring on the Wings of a Dragon." Naomi Novik, who lives on the Upper East Side, has written three novels in the fantasy genre that center around a heroic dragon in the Napoleon era. While these aren't the type of books I read, this is my kind of story.

It seems Ms. Novik, a self-described geek, at one time fantasized about what it would be like for director Peter Jackson to bring her books to life. Well, he of King Kong and Lord of the Rings fame has purchased the film rights and will be bringing his special touch and, of course, cachet to the world Novik created in her fertile imagination.

How cool is that?

Allow me to answer.

Very.

The new 40?

I saw a friend who turned 50 today. She's fabulous. Emotionally strong. A survivor.

I love her.

Funny girl

Sometimes you just get up in the morning and think it's going to be a run-of-the-mill Monday and you wind up sitting in Madison Square Garden listening to a legend.

BABS!!!!!!!!!!!

Oh my God. What Barbra Streisand can do with a song. Evergreen, The Way We Were, Somewhere and my favorite show-stopper -- Don't Rain On My Parade. I feel blessed to have witnessed three hours of pure entertainment, including the powerful Il Divo.

Somehow I think I'll be waking up to a New York Post headline about one particular moment in the show. There was a political skit that included a George Bush impersonator. When a heckler got out of hand and the word "traitor" was shouted, Babs shocked the Garden crowd when she said, "Shut the f#$% up." What a moment. She invited people to express their opinions by voting and noted how great it was to live in a country where we're free to poke fun at the government.

It was a star-studded, poignant, humorous, rousing evening. The legend lives on.

Away

Weekend in Boston.

w/Dr. Robin Smith
and Martha Beck
and Suze Orman
and Reggie Wells
and Stacy London.

Vibrant speakers. A consistent message about living your best life. Really inspiring and thought-provoking.

Great getaway.

Dissipate

Tension

gives way

to breathing

connection

breathing

inspiration

breathing
breathing
breathing.

Sobering

Maturity means never saying, "I did it because I was drunk."

If you're over the age of 25 (that's a grace period of a few years after college) and you get so drunk you can't remember what you said, who you came on to, who you slept with, what you wrote in an email, what ethnic group you slurred, who you punched, what you stole or that you got behind the wheel of a car, then maybe you have some growing up to do. And, let's just say it, alcohol is like truth serum, so what you do say is most likely what you don't have the guts to say when you're sober. It doesn't mean you don't believe or feel it.

A little integrity and decorum is in order. Please.

Bye, bye, birdie

So I'm at the day job. There's a window behind my desk with a view of the tin roof. I see a dead bird and I am struck by its beauty. It is black with white stripes in its wings, a bright yellow belly and a red head.

Within minutes I tap into the vastness of the Internet and find out it is a yellow-bellied sapsucker, a kind of woodpecker. They tap in a distinctive rhythm, two or three series per minute, and they do not drum. Fascinating.

Then I look into the meaning of this bird. The woodpecker stands for change and persistence. And these: prophecy, magic, power, guardian of trees, heralds rain and storms.

Bless that little bird.

Same ol' sadness

What in the world is going on in the world?

A school shooting. A politician involved in inappropriate sexual behavior. Questions about signs missed prior to 9/11.

Scary thing is, these are the same headlines virtually every week.

Funny Face

So the Gap commercial must have gotten to me. I rented Funny Face with Audrey Hepburn and Fred Astaire. It's a fun flick. The fashion photographer discovers the bookish girl in Greenwich Village and takes her to Paris to model. She's smart. He likes her anyway. (Don't get me started ...)

The classic dance scene recreated in the Gap commercial is fantastic. Audrey Hepburn can cut a mean rug. And then, what a great surprise. There is a sequence where she is posed in front of various points of interest around Paris. All of a sudden I see a grand staircase and I know what will be at the top -- Winged Victory. They are in the Louvre. Fred Astaire looks up the stairs at the glorious statue. Audrey Hepburn is hiding behind it. She tells him to get ready and then she emerges from this stark white setting in a red gown. She tells him to shoot as she comes down the stairs, arms outstretched with a red wrap fluttering between them. A beautiful shot with the outstretched wings of the statue behind her.

And then a happy ending. Just what the doctor ordered.

Nose to the grindstone

Been working so hard on the book that I fell asleep last night before I had a chance to blog. Now there's a hopping Saturday night, huh?

This is one of those times in life where you know you have to finish something you've started. It's time. My self-imposed deadline to be done with my book by the end of the year presents a challenge, but it can be done. I love a good challenge!

So back to writing. I have hours of work before me ...