Category Archives: Emotional Health

Emotional Health, Health and Long Life, Spiritual Well Being

Happy Quarantinaversary to me!

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Today is March 16, 2021. Happy Quarantinaversary to me!  On this day in 2020, I rose before dawn as is my habit, wrote a little, ate my oatmeal, showered, dressed, made my bed and prepared to sally forth and land a job in music, art, or history – just a little something fun to supplement my retirement, make new friends and get me involved in a new community. First stop on my list was the library where I would print off résumés and network. Before going out the door, I googled the library to confirm hours of operation and found the library; CLOSED. Shut down. The library, for heaven sakes. The sanctuary of writers, researchers, the homeless and the itinerate. I have not been in a library for over a year now. I turned instead to electronics and music, solitary hikes and writing.

In the 17 days immediately preceding March 16, I had completed my move to Durango, settled in a Victorian apartment new to me, made two trips to Grand Junction to visit my parents, purchase a vehicle and coordinate details with my daughter. As of March 16, all commerce came to a halt. I dug out my wardrobe of bandanas – currently known as face masks. I commenced making chalk marks on my front porch; eleven days, twenty-one days, thirty-days. And then the lawn sprinklers washed away my record of confinement. The streets of bustling, resort town Durango were deserted and quiet, fit for walking and window-shopping.  My only retail therapy was food. I found the grocery stores more crowded during senior hours than at other times. We are, after all, the baby-boomers. I shopped only when absolutely necessary.

I chose to receive the quarantine as a gift and a blessing. I savored the solitude, the uninterrupted time to write and sing and play music. True, I re-read every paperback book in the house – and all the books I had been purchasing and storing on my phone. I re-watched old DVDs. More importantly, I attended to my physical health by hiking every trail I could find.

I did what I had always wanted to do but never had time. I finished and published two books- rereleased a children’s book long gathering dust. I learned to play the electric bass. I sang with a virtual choir. I built a website for my online bookstore. I did more than survive. I am content more days than not.

Though it has been a year in which I lost my job and my mother – neither to COVID – I have found a new normal; a more stress-free way of being. I want to keep it that way. Nevertheless, today, on this anniversary of my quarantine, I have an appointment for a vaccination. Do I think the vaccination is some kind of magic potion that will fix everything? I hang my hope no more on receiving a vaccination than on wearing of a face mask, yet I participate willingly in both – because they are a comfort and encouragement for those around me; a symbol of hope to all who long for freedom; that we are doing our best. Tomorrow, may we do even better. I will live – and live well – as long as I am supposed to. And then, may I die in a beautiful place!

Character, Emotional Health, Health and Long Life, Musical resolutions, Write

Fear of Embarrassment

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She has a problem. It is a subset of fear and it is fueled by fear of rejection. It is fear of embarrassment. She knows where it came from. It is inherent in her personality type, her enneagram model; and it was actively and intentionally worked on by those closest to her as a child. Don’t embarrass your family. Let me help you be perfect so you will never have to feel embarrassed.

Fear of embarrassment is not a very good choice of fears for a writer – or a performer. When you write you bare your soul. When you perform, you put your entire heart into it. When you are a singer / songwriter, God help you. Every breath you take, every song you sing, every tone you articulate is one more embarrassment waiting to happen. 

I cringe, you cringe, we all cringe, when we hear a less than stellar music performance such as The Star Spangled Banner in 5 keys – in the space of two minutes or less. Yes, she is embarrassed for them. And she is embarrassed for herself. She wants to do unto others as she would be done to.

As a writer, she doesn’t want to write anything that will embarrass herself when she reads it later – or embarrass others. On the other hand, she loves to make people laugh. How would this fear of embarrassing herself or others fly if she was, say, a stand up comedian? Apply that thought to writing and you see what a predicament she finds herself in. 

How can you call out wrongs, injustice, false beliefs, unfair actions, as a writer if you fear embarrassment, rejection?

I published a book – and promptly withdrew, almost became flat on my back with anxiety for five days. I quaked with the knowledge there were scenes in that book where I exposed myself – even though it was fiction. There were chapters wherein I said some things with which my closest friends and family might disagree philosophically. My motivation for writing was not to call out or accuse people, but to find my voice – to speak for others who might yet be tongue-tied. Yet I quail and continue to cower at the embarrassment and potential backlash.

I went to an outdoor concert the other night. A secondary singer experienced some pitch challenges. I cringed. But worse than that, I fell back into my protective cloak of judge not lest you be judged. So, I pretended that I didn’t notice. Why? Because that could have been me. I so hope no one is looking or listening when I mess up. Let me ask you this, how is that working for you? How can you ever market your product or your song if no one is listening or looking? How can you correct your mistakes and get better if everyone pretends you don’t make any mistakes?

The singer at the outdoor concert did something very helpful – he sang with confidence, without flinching. And that is exactly what she must do; plunge in with eyes closed tightly; make a big splash whether it is a flawless dive or a belly flop. Some years her word for the year is courage, other years confidence. One year it was a motto: Onward through the fog! A year like 2021 may require a complete sentence:

There is no time like the present to teach an old dog new tricks.

Emotional Health, Goals and Dreams, Health and Long Life, Hiking and outdoor beauty, Mountains, Spiritual Well Being

Dating the Wilderness

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Have you ever vacationed in a cute little quaint town and thought I could live here? Perhaps you idly checked real estate listings. You looked at job postings for your profession. And then you realized that half the charm of the place is that you are on vacation. The novelty is that you don’t live there. You don’t have to rise with your alarm every morning and go to work. 

She found that often, when she put down roots and lived in a location, she overlooked its beauty. Why? Because she was so busy working and being dependable and trying to fix things and well, just engaging in basic survival, she didn’t have time to enjoy the place, to explore, to seek out the beauty and revel in it. Happy are those people who can live and love and recreate-daily- in the town they call home.

She loved to go to the wilderness, to climb every mountain, to see beautiful places and feel the sheer power of Nature. She loved the solitude, the being alone. She loved jagged, sheer cliffs and sandstone monoliths, and columbine and evening primrose and penstemon. She loved to feel the health and vitality that came from spending every day and quantities of minutes outside, breathing deep, testing her mettle, shedding her worries, actually enjoying herself. But did she want to live here in the wilderness permanently?  To settle down, build a brick and mortar structure and try to make a home and scratch a garden out of grey granite? Maybe what she really wanted was to go steady, to see the rocks and trees and red sandstone and river and night sky and 360 degree views every day. She didn’t want to become fixed in one place. She wanted to be in the great outdoors every day. Yes, she loved the wilderness and the wilderness loved her back, with wildflowers and solid, dependable rock. The wilderness expected nothing of her, and she took nothing but fresh air and inspiration and beauty and memories. She took a few chances. She explored with inquisitive caution.

Mostly, she just wanted to date the wilderness – and she wanted the dating phase to last forever.

Character, Emotional Health, Goals and Dreams, Health and Long Life, Leadership, Relationships, Spiritual Well Being

Glory!

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“Make it a great day!” I said as she headed out the door to a construction gig job – her way to bridge the gap until her wilderness seasonal job commences again. “Get all the glory!” she called back. “glory” there is a movie by that title-and it wasn’t just about winning. “Glory!” it’s what the little old ladies used to shout in the Pentecostal leaning church I grew up in. Glory – somewhere between joy and the spiritual feeling of being lifted right into the seventh heaven. Glory – the emotional reward that comes from pursuing a righteous cause, from living life with excellence and integrity, giving your all!

I love the recent story circulating of the two world class runners, the one where Kenya is leading by several yards, but quits, thinking he has crossed the finish line. Spain follows, but, instead of shouting, “Yes! I am the victor!” and charging toward the finish line, the second-place runner grabs the leader and ushers him across the finish line.

Because. Because. What glory is there in finishing first only because your rival stumbles? What glory was there in injuring Nancy Kerrigan in order to clear the field and advance Tonya Harding?

“If you compare yourself to others you will become both vain and bitter.”  What happens when you become bitter? Destruction is what happens. So, if you annihilate everyone better than you, does that mean you are the best? What glory is there in winning if it is only because the better man didn’t show up?

I have never forgotten the story of two swimmers as recorded in a high school literature unit. The first was a steady-eddy, meat and potatoes, diver the coach could always count on to finish strong; the other an amazingly talented athlete-the sort of shooting star that delivers a spectacular win. While the two boys were rivals with regard to placement on the home team, they were teammates at district competitions.  The Talent would almost always finish first; and Steady Eddy would bring home a second or third.

The inevitable day came when Talent met his Waterloo at a big regional competition.  Steady Eddy took one look in the face of his teammate and saw that Talent was frozen in fear. Now! Now, was Steady Eddy’s chance to grab the first-place medal. He was prepared. He was relaxed and confident. His homeboy rival was petrified. Yet, instead of giving Talent a “tough luck bro,” look and striding ahead to the diving board, Steady Eddy commenced a game that had spurred them on to excellence in practice rounds at school. It was ridiculous. It was childish. It was Narnian in both genius and innocence, but they forgot their fears and made joyous fools of themselves – and they won again. Gold and Silver. Only this time our steady-eddy homeboy got the gold. He was so intent on pushing his teammate higher and better than ever before that he himself excelled. 

When you build a gymnastics pyramid, you gotta stand on someone’s shoulders or someone has got to stand on yours – maybe both. We are all circus performers, we are all gymnasts, we are all swimmers and divers and runners. Let’s get each other across the finish line, shall we? 

We all need a worthy opponent – a worthy rival – what none of us need is a cheater or someone who cheers when we fall – let us not weaken ourselves by gloating over an enemy. 

What glory is there in that kind of win? When you win only because someone else stumbled?

No, we spur each other on to greater and greater victories.

Break a leg!

Make it a great day!

Do your best!

Give it your all!

Get all the Glory!

Emotional Health, Health and Long Life, Holidays and Traditions, Relationships, Spiritual Well Being

Valentine’s Day Approaches

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Love makes the world go round. Love is all you need. Love conquers all.

Love is a basic need as surely as food and shelter. But what of the wall flower who has never had the chance to dance? What of the woman or man who has tirelessly put others first, giving and giving and giving love with no reciprocation until his or her well is empty and dry? What then? Does their world cease to go round? If all she needs is love, yet her emotional wallet is flat, and no one is handing out alms, how broke is she? Maybe he fought valiantly, believing love conquers all, but he lies slain by the lack of it, no reinforcements in sight. What then?

Valentine’s Day approaches. Some of you are going to have to learn to love yourself. For me, this has been a hard concept to grasp, but here is what I have concluded: Good religion teaches me to love my neighbor as I love myself.  If I honestly endeavor to love my neighbor as myself; which scenario results in more love to my neighbor; loving myself less? Or loving myself more? Further, I must learn to love myself unconditionally; to understand that I am not perfect, that I make mistakes. Once I understand and love myself unconditionally, I am able to extend that love to others.

Is it possible to declare, “I will love myself (and therefore others) unconditionally,” and just do it? Maybe it is different for different people. In any case, I find that the decision to engage in selflove has to be made over and over each day. Consider the main character in my work in progress:

She had to remind herself to engage in selfcare. To do it consistently until it became a habit. In the same way, she had to remember to love herself – unconditionally, lavishly, until it became a habit – until she became so loving that she was besotted – a soggy, full sponge – so that anytime she was squeezed, or pressured, or pushed, a little bit of love dripped out. 

Valentine’s Day approaches, are you feeling wrung out? May the only thing that comes from you be love.

May you love yourself lavishly and may you love your neighbor as you love yourself.

Books and other Soul Food, Character, Emotional Health, Goals and Dreams, Health and Long Life, Home and Hearth, Leadership, Relationships, Spiritual Well Being, Uncategorized, Write

remembering Shirley Bryan-an introspective

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Shirley Bryan is dead, and she didn’t get to read the book. The book in which a very important supporting character is modeled after her. The book in which I put words in her mouth – made her say what I understood her to say. The book that was dedicated to her because she believed in me, mentored me from afar. Just knowing she was there, just knowing what she would say gave me the affirmation to move forward. Shirley Bryan died January 1 of this year. I found out when I googled her address to send a copy of The Cemetery Wives – albeit with fear and trembling because she has a much more particular grasp of the English language than I do. Nevertheless, I thought proper to send her a copy because I dedicated it to her. Would she still be at the same address? A mere three months ago when I penned the dedication line, I searched online and found her husband, Chaplin Bill, had died two years ago. I have not seen Shirley, talked to Shirley, or been in contact for over 25 years. It is I who am totally responsible for the distance and lack of communication. For the first 12 years after leaving seminary, I chose not to burden her with my day-to-day frustrations because she had plenty of new young women to mentor. For the past twelve I have been ashamed to reach out. I am divorced. My life did not go as it ought. It would have grieved Shirley, as it grieved me. My presence at the seminary was due to my marriage to a seminary student and we are no longer married. 

Back in the day when I was married to a seminary student and Shirley mentored young mothers, we had an understanding. Speaking to young wives was her calling, writing was my growing passion. We would travel the ancient biblical lands together. She would gain knowledge and speak. I would be her amanuensis. In both speaking and writing, we would reach the maximum number of people with truth. In addition, we would both luxuriate in seeing the wonders of the world.

It was never a real plan – only a casual conversation – but her participation in the dream was true encouragement. Something that told me I could move forward. I was free to pursue writing. It might even be my calling.

Character, Emotional Health, Family, Goals and Dreams, Health and Long Life, Relationships, Spiritual Well Being

Tired of living the life

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Living the life, he writes from a 230-square-foot studio cabin while penning a yearly update to family. Panoramic views stretch expansively into public lands from the windows liberally flanking three sides of the studio. In the center stands a pot-bellied wood stove. Water reaches toward a boiling point for tea. Hardbound classics stand upright on knotty pine shelves. A vintage microscope, typewriter and various state of the art wireless word-processing devices conveniently litter a sweeping 24-foot, built-in desk space. It can be assumed he is clothed in wool that is very smart – in more ways than one – and featherweight down. 

This is the life, she says. And she is eternally grateful. For over 60 years she has longed for the time and solitude to write. And now she is living the life; living in a well-equipped authentic Victorian row house; rising before dawn and writing for a couple hours; bathing in a vintage claw-foot tub with hot running water that she doesn’t have to fetch or heat; hiking for two hours a day,  every day at whatever time of day suits her fancy; keeping fit, keeping well-read, indulging in virtual choirs and virtual bass workshops and adding to her piano repertoire and strumming her pain with her fingers on a handsome acoustic guitar she never had time to caress until this year.  Most of the time, she is vastly content.  She has done what she said she would do 13 years ago – write.  In the space of eleven months, she brought two novels to print, novels begun in the 80s and now historic. She resurrected a children’s book first published in her initial crusade to become a writer.

But they are tired, these siblings, tired of not being able to meet in a cozy coffee shop, tired of not being able to travel by train or plane to exotic places to expand their intellectual horizons. Tired of restraint from family reunions where laughter is shared by people who overlap with common inherencies. 

Sometimes she grows tired of living the life; tired of not being able to go to a ballroom just every once in a while and find herself in the arms of a man who can really lead and who can dance to boot – or dance in boots if the situation is western; tired of singing virtually without the felt energy of leaning in to match the blend; tired of hawking and signing her books electronically – missing the smiles uncovered and the handshakes hearty and the spontaneity of laughter that does not mute the audio of everyone else.

And as for him? He is living the life – in the lap of all that he loves and has earned, but he is tired of talking to colleagues, about bears and nutes and biodiversity and the human genome, via Zoom. He longs to go global once again – lecture and discuss in Zumbian zoos and the Tanzanian tropics and rustic Denalian lodges. 

And so they coexist, these two siblings, closely related by blood yet often differing in opinion, a few hundred miles apart, in virtual solitude and partial isolation.

Yes, they are living the life in so many ways and they acknowledge it with heartfelt gratitude.

 But in some subtle way, they are tired of living the life. Something needs to change.

Books and other Soul Food, Character, co-dependence, Emotional Health, Family, Fiction is Truth, Health and Long Life, Religion, Spiritual Well Being

Please Judge the book by its cover

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Please judge the book by its cover!

It’s the book she never intended to write. You know, the Christian Women’s fiction one. And the audience for this book is probably well over 50 and likes best to read comforting feel-good books by Jan Karon about Father Tim and all the residents of Mitford. 

It’s the book that disappointed her favorite cousin “why doesn’t the main character DO something?” said the cousin when prevailed upon to do a final read through.

It’s the manuscript the author read aloud to her best friend while on a long road trip, so the best friend is not obligated to read the book again – but that friend did volunteer that she loves the cover! The art is mesmerizing.

It’s the book the author’s 32-year-old daughter will probably never read since it’s not Rowling or Tolkien or Austen or Brönte or Frank Herbert. But her daughter, none-the-less, has an eye for style and an opinion about the cover. And that is how the cover came to be washed in shades of brown and looking like a southern gothic adventure set in the 80s.

Artist Courtney Harris did a fabulous job of interpreting the author’s ideas of a cemetery in Texas in 1989. The author is happy with the cover. The author’s daughter is happy with the cover. The artist’s mother is happy with the cover. The author’s best friend is happy with the cover. So please, go ahead and judge the book by its cover!

Because the back cover says “Caution: contains Bible quotes and seminary speak and a very unconventional love story.” 

Unconventional. Yes. In the latest film version of Little Women, Mr. Dashwood (the publisher) tells Jo March, “and if the main character is a woman, make sure she is married by the end of the book – or dead!” The ending would satisfy Mr. Dashwood – and all those who share his point of view. Someone is dead and someone is married.

Emotional Health, Goals and Dreams, Health and Long Life, Spiritual Well Being

Farewell 2020 i regret nothing

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Farewell 2020.

I regret nothing.

Hindsight is 2020, everyone is saying, and now 2020 is in our rearview mirror. 

None of us have any desire to cling to the past

Isn’t that the way it is supposed to be? 

We move forward with hope that tomorrow will be better than today.

We turn the leaf to a fresh new page

Farewell, farewell!

There is no going back.

I regret nothing.

Now is the time to harness the energy for greeting the adventures around the corner, not for ruing the past.

Hope springeth eternal

Does it?

Then, let it!

There is no time like the present to continue to do what you have always wanted to do.

The challenges are no greater and no less than they have ever been

Give it your all

Things I do not regret from 2020

I do not regret moving back to Colorado

Not sorry I discovered Durango

Not sorry I spent my savings on a washer and a dryer and two down vests and a pair of

top-flight, waterproof hiking boots.

I do not regret the kayak

Not sorry I found people to sing with virtually so that I must practice every day and thereby increase my oxygen and endorphin intake

Not sorry I busied myself about music during isolation and learned bass and bought a bass amp.

I have no regrets concerning cloistering myself and writing for nine and a half months.

2020 was a year of incredible events, unforeseen depths of loss and amazing opportunity. I regret nothing. Onward 2021.

Emotional Health, Family

Chapter 29 My Berra (from The Cemetery Wives)

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29 MY BERRA

In celebration of Christmas week, I offer you a rare mid-week post, Chapter 29 taken from The Cemetery Wives, by Cherry Odelberg. Now available on Amazon as an ebook or softcover. The Cemetery Wives is a work of fiction. Chapter 29, however, is pretty much how it happened.

The seminary patrons had done it again! The last Tuesday of classes, the school paper, Kathive, came off the presses proudly displaying a black and white picture on the front page. The picture was of a ten-foot, fully decorated Christmas tree in the lobby of the president’s office. Close to one hundred wrapped gifts were stacked around the base of the tree. A plush teddy bear with a huge bow sat looking at the spectacle with large, warm eyes. “Students, are you married with children?” asked the caption. “Be sure and check your box for a ticket to pick up your numbered gift on Friday.” Jon was elated when he showed the student papertoCarriethatafternoon. Shequicklycaughthis excitement. Then, Abby leaned out from her place on Carrie’s hip and pointed, “Das mye berah. Dat berah for Abby. Hug.” She tried to mash the paper to her.

The Wednesday morning MOPS meeting was alive with rejoicing and celebration among the cemetery wives. Poppy Sue listened to their chatter with a knowing smile on her face – the type of smile that inevitably goes with Christmas secrets. In her morning announcements, she explained,

“There are some people, three or four families actually, closely connected to the seminary, who have made it a tradition to give a family gift to the seminary

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each year. As I said, these are families. They believe children and a secure family life are the backbone of ministry and the hope of our nation. These donors chose to give anonymously, sometimes through me to MOPS – that is where your MOPS reading library came from – sometimes through Luke’s Closet or the President’s office. These are the same people responsible for the highchairs in the student center. This year, they thought presents to the children might be nice.” Who knew whether Poppy Sue was the instigator, or maybe a combination of the women who volunteered at Luke’s Closet? Sally Bancroft clearly knew, but wouldn’t tell. The young mothers charged Poppy Sue and Sally with the responsibility of conveying to the anonymous families how excited and thankful they were. Again, just like Thanksgiving, there was a turkey for each family at the food pantry that afternoon.

By Thursday, Jonathan Bach had his numbered ticket. On Friday, he stood in the queue of sport coat and tie clad students to match his number. Thirteen shouldn’t be hard to find. Still, he had to ask for help from one of the ladies. After turning over a few of the packages herself without success, she said, “Let me check the list. What’s your name?”

“Jonathan Bach.”

“Bach? Like the composer?” She consulted a clipboard. “Oh here you are. The bear is for you. We clipped the number on the backside of the bow, to hide it for the picture the other day. No one turned it around.”

Jonathan was speechless. He could barely breathe out a thank you.

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“Are you okay?” asked the woman. Jon collected himself.

“Out of the mouths of babes,” he said, “your daughters will prophesy.” She waited. “Last Tuesday night,” said Jon, “when Abby – she is 18 months old. When Abby saw the black and white photo in the student paper, she said, ‘that’s my bear.’”

“Mr. Bach, That’s a story that Mary Eileen and Vonnie will love to hear over and over,” said the woman. “Merry Christmas!”

And so, Christmas came to the beleaguered little Bach family. There was a new teddy bear for Abby. There was Christmas turkey with all the trimmings on the table. There were the little niceties only a creative and frugal woman like Carrie could provide; a new tie and matching pocket hankie for Jon, looking suspiciously like a dress Carrie made a few years back. There were hugs. There were tears. There were phone calls home to distant family. There were six more days to the end of the year in which to eat turkey leftovers. But there were no more weekly food pantry portions. Everyone was on Christmas break.