Category Archives: Goals and Dreams

Yesterday, I saw my grandmother in the mirror

The days have come and gone when I looked in the mirror and said “Hello, Mother!”  We’ve all heard the jokes. We women past a certain age have experienced that momentary start – seeing ourselves at the same age we vividly remember the face of our mother. The first time I saw my mother’s face in the mirror, I put on a bit more makeup and got a new hairstyle.

Yesterday, when I looked in the mirror, I saw my grandmother.  This is no insult. Grandma died at the young age of 65; having had no time to go gray. Her wits and energy  were still about her. The age at which I remember most vividly her daily influence on my life, is about my current age.

So, yesterday, with hair pulled back from my face and wound into a bun in preparation for a facial, I looked in the mirror, straight into my grandmother’s eyes. Yes, they were tired.  But they were tired from bold adventure.  They were Magna Carta eyes.  Eyes that came over on the Mayflower, with a faint trace of lips that said, “Speak for yourself, John.”

The face I was looking at was that of a woman who knows how to make school clothes and curtains from whatever is at hand, can fruits and vegetables in preparation for winter, knead and bake bread, teach school, ride a horse, plant and plow. She has bathed in the kitchen in water heated on a woodstove, made a home from houses old and new and loves to travel. She taught her sons how to throw and catch a softball and football, started her own business, wrote and published a book, and loves to roll with and support the creative endeavors of her children.

Oh wait.  I don’t think that last sentence applies to my grandmother.

Why then, do the young men smirk when I take my own car in for an oil change?  Why condescend when I ask – and pay – for help with a new car key?

Make music or make a living?

Is it true that you can’t follow your heart and still make enough money to live on?

How many musicians labor, toil, worry, and obsess about that?  How many suffer the regular admonitions of those more responsible folks around us who tell us to be sensible, you’ll never make money as a musician?

“You lads and lasses should always remember that 24 record companies turned the Beatles down and that John’s Aunt Mimi said, ‘The guitar’s all very well, John, but you’ll never earn a living with it.’”

Is it true?  Must I find something non-creative, less artistic, by which to earn a living?

At the moment, I am beginning a full-time job that aligns with my other education and hobbies; my organizational fastidiousness, love of walking and out-door beauty, fascination with history and what makes people tick. But while I give wholehearted effort at the office for 40 or more hours each week, will I give up my music?

No way.  I will continue to raise young musicians.  I will continue to play and sing for others every chance I get. I’m not going to let go of that piano anytime soon. That would be to rip out a part of my heart and soul.  Besides – I’ll let you in on a secret:

Over the years I have made more money in music than any other avenue I have ever worked. Am I often a starving musician?  Yes. but I have been able to make much needed money off this gig ever since I was 15.

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Why I loathe friendship evangelism and network marketing, Part Four: Isolation

Why do I loathe network marketing and friendship evangelism? It makes me feel isolated, like I really am the only one.

Nothing depresses me more than unrelenting poverty. When I have done my best, beat the streets, thought of every angle (and it is acknowledged I think too much) – and I don’t know where the rent is coming from at the end of the month – or even where my next full meal is coming from, I am more ready to throw in the towel than at any other time.  Relentless bills.  Poverty.

At this end of the rope phase, I consider all the possibilities, I put the word out to friends and family that I am job-hunting. An old family friend calls, “We have a job opportunity where I work.  Come by the office and see me.”  It sounds entry level, but I am ready to do anything.  I will wash dishes, clean toilets, take out the trash before I will go delinquent on my bills, be homeless, or especially before I will use my piano for firewood.

I arrive at the appointed time.  There are pleasantries of getting to know each other once again. Then my friend introduces a way to add to my income; a plan by which I can make money by sharing a multi-level marketing plan.

Can we have a sincere relationship, please? Okay, I know you brought me here to share a good thing with me, not to give you a lesson in  logic, but consider this:  Your product saves money only if I have been using the most expensive services out there. I am already as frugal as common sense can make me.

Many of these plans are wonderful for making extra money – particularly if they are products you buy anyway and you are essentially co-oping. But, if hard times are already standing so close to your door you have eliminated toothpaste or hair conditioner or food from your budget, you are not looking for a way to earn extra money, you need immediate basic money.  The secret is not in a better budget, or better product. The secret is earning money to budget.

You see, I already have a way to earn extra money – it is called persistent music and writing. If I devote as much time and effort to music gigs and free-lance writing jobs as it would take to make cold calls and pursue old friends long forgotten (only for the sake of recruiting them); I assure you, I will make as much extra money working my passion as I would working your multi-level program. 

With regard to friendship evangelists and net-work marketers; I am sad. I really wanted your friendship and friendship is something you didn’t think to give me until you had a money motive or an honor and reputation motive.  You saw me as an opportunity for another notch in your belt.

And now, I am done ranting about the disappointments, shame, isolation; and the used and discarded feeling of Friendship Evangelism and Net-Work Marketing.

Next posts: some friendship networking that builds genuine lifelong friendships.

I loathe friendship evangelism and network marketing: Part III, used and discarded

The place was Nashville. The reason?  Dove awards. Already that year I had been to Christian Artist’s Seminar in the Rockies and CBA Convention. I was a songwriter. My goal was to make and maintain friendships in the music publishing industry.  I had no money to do this on my own, but some mentors who had succeeded in publishing wanted the best for me and arranged for me to be there.

I bolstered my confidence and utter aloneness by dressing for success and headed toward the convention hotel lobby and breakfast. She must have been watching for the likes of me. Her reason for being in Nashville was a business trip with her husband. They had the wealth associated with Texas oil.  Awhile back she had written a few stanzas of lyrics that ought to be made into a song. When she arrived in Nashville and found a songwriter’s convention was afoot, she secured a premium, at the door, ticket and waltzed right in; sat right down.

Her friendliness was disarming.  She wanted to know everything about the music industry. “You’ve done this before?” she asked.  “Tell me everything you know.  Come on, I’ll buy you breakfast.”  Always ready to help and always ready to share knowledge, I followed her into the breakfast lounge. Also, always considerate of budget – mine or others-I ordered a modest muesli. She had an entrée with sides.

As the time allocated for breakfast drew to a close, a music executive whom I knew from previous conventions stopped by and greeted me.  I made introductions. My erstwhile breakfast companion rose and attached herself to him as he exited the breakfast room.  Guess who picked up the tab?

I felt used and discarded. I do not like friendship solely for network marketing.

I loathe friendship evangelism and network marketing; Part II Undeserved Shame

Last time, I wrote that disappointment, was one reason I loathe friendship evangelism and network marketing. I am an introvert who responds well to the gregarious nature of extroverts.

Oh, I can smile generously and be well mannered, even friendly from the get go.  Stranger or not, I will help you in the moment and we can work together and have fun together. You are welcome in my pool of 50 or more people I am getting to know better; but the minute I feel you are using me, that you pursued the relationship only to recruit me, I am done.

Do not try to manipulate me for your own goals and headcount. Goals, manipulation, headcount, another football decal on your helmet, a notch in your belt; are the reasons I loathe friendship evangelism and network marketing.

If I find you have something good to offer, some talent or product, I will not hesitate to pass on your name or promote you. But I will not be bought or pressured. Don’t try to shame, manipulate or cajole a commitment out of me.

Many years ago we answered the knock at the door to find a magazine salesperson. The kind who says they are pursuing a career to keep them off the street. Only this time, it was someone we knew from school days.  We invited the young woman in, renewed old acquaintance, served iced tea. Then, we declined to purchase a magazine.  There were none we needed and we were on a strict budget. She rose indignantly and left saying, “You wasted my time!

Experiences like that make me a bit wary of one who has become an  e-pen pal.  He is a fun correspondent. He has been steadily pursuing common ground. We have found a few similar interests. But, I know this gig. I am waiting for the other shoe to fall.  I suspect this will turn out to be friendship evangelism. When will he pop the question (Are you saved?)?  I could simply answer in the affirmative, in which case he can cross me off the list and focus on other conquests.  Or, I might respond in caveat laden candor that leads to debate. Either way, I predict he will “shake the dust off his feet,” and move on. Given past experience, do you blame me for my skepticism?

I have developed a few online relationships over the past five years. Some with good mutual result which I will highlight in positive posts after I get the loathing out of my system.  But right now, I loathe both the disappointment and undeserved shame of friendship evangelism or network marketing.

To a world starving for beautiful words

I love words.  I love the way they bump up together and create meaning. I love rhyme and internal cadence.  A well turned phrase – or a truly witty pun – brings joy and laughter. I heartily agree with the Proverb: words fitly spoken are like apples of gold in frames of silver.  Can you imagine the beauty?

Today, at weekend work, I received a bouquet of words. It is amazing how quickly good news can fly. Before the words of commendation reached me, at least three other pairs of eyes had seen them, so it was like gossip, only better.  The electronic note came through the National Park Service, to the lead ranger, on to my immediate supervisor, into my hands.

Less than 24 hours ago, I served an amiable customer at the Visitor Center. One among 990 that day. He was the perfect customer; competent and quietly confident-the type of person who is so open and kind, it would be impossible to not serve him and his party well.  Yet, he took the time and trouble to write a commendation, within 24 hours, while on a cross-country trip.

You know what? I want to be like that customer; to pursue everyday folks and bring out the best in them.  I want to spread positive gossip; to encourage people simply by my presence and well chosen words; to not only notice the best in others, but take the time and trouble to point it out; thus bringing hope for the future to a world starving for beautiful words.

A Wild Idea

DSCN5467archthrougharchTo begin with, I wasn’t even wearing my hiking shoes.  My friend had prevailed on me to  meet her at 8:30 a.m. to help sort recently moved boxes for a yard sale. Friends shouldn’t have to prevail, but Thursday morning begins my so-called weekend and I keep my mornings free to write and create. Late getting out of the shower, I headed to my phone to request an additional 15 minutes.  There was a message waiting for me:  Let’s make it 9 o’clock. At 10 after nine, I pulled in her driveway.  I was wearing my denim work shorts and a T-shirt, and my Chucks. She was sitting in a sunny living room window in baggy capris, with a cup of coffee, reading. She groaned, “I don’t really want to pull boxes down from the garage attic.  My head hurts.  My body is already aching.”

“Well, we could just go out of town instead,”  I quipped. “What I really wanted to do was go to Ft. Collins this weekend.”  Her face perked up. We discussed this novel idea for a few minutes as we have mutual friends in Ft. Collins, in addition to two of my children.  “But I don’t think we can get out of town before 10:00 and we would have to leave for home by 3:00 tomorrow afternoon -that’s hardly enough.”

She had a full tank of gas. In the end, we pooled our lunch, grabbed the first aid pack and an extra water bottle from my car and headed for Arches National Park in Utah. We didn’t take time to change clothes or run by my house.  I was wearing Converse low cuts and my last pair of clean white socks. That is why my toes hurt. We hiked 5 miles and decimated several bottles of water.  I was gone from home 12 1/2 hours.  And to think, I was going to do my laundry after I helped sort boxes.

If you had determined to live each day as though you have been given 365 days to live, would you have gone hiking – or finished the laundry?

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When was the last time you felt, IN THE PRIME OF LIFE?

A few days ago, while searching for images to update and illustrate my writer’s profile, I came across a photo album titled, “Rancho.”  Flipping the pages, this thought escaped me unbidden, “Man, was I ever in my prime!  And I didn’t even know it.”

Scrapbook of one prime of life
Scrapbook of one prime of life

I was in my early forties when I co-wrote, co-directed, designed costumes, designed and constructed the sets for a children’s musical. It was a nearly charmed time in my life. At first I volunteered as pianist for a newly formed children’s choir, quickly became assistant / substitute director, costume designer, and organizational wizard.  What a ride.  Before the two year journey was up, I had organized and delivered a week of summer music camp activities, worked for a recording studio, helped produce four children’s church musicals and one Christmas CD.  When those years culminated in “Rancho Prodigolly,” it was no longer just the director and me, but a full team complete with wardrobe director, choreographer, and stage hands.

It can be difficult to look back, see an astounding success, notice things have tapered off, and worry you are now past your prime. It is somewhat consoling to take a look at prime numbers. You will notice erratic gaps between seven and eleven; 23 and 29.  The great thing about growing older is that I have seen enough to know that prime of life experiences come again and again. What makes it the prime of life for you?  Is it having resources, money to do what you dream? Is it completing an advanced degree?

Prime for me is when somebody sees my value, my worth, puts me in that position and gives me free reign to shine. Given this affirmation, I prove myself beyond their expectations. But I have to reveal a little bit of myself, at least the tip of the ice berg, before anyone knows, before they think of me. Often, this revelation happens through volunteering or taking entry level jobs.  Sometimes, it is an arduous journey between primes.

I don’t know about you, but I want another prime.

Does the prime of life refer to only a narrow corridor of years?

In my twenties, I was in the prime of life; entrepreneurial, physically more beautiful than I had ever been. In my thirties, I hit my stride writing scripts, musicals and getting other people where they needed to go.  My forties yielded hours in the music classroom  where I knew I was being fully she I was meant to be. Most recently, I have experienced prime moments, tiny snippets of time when I connected with a tutoring or piano student.

It can be an arduous and erratic journey between primes.  I am making the journey.  I feel another prime of life coming on.  How about you?  Where is your next prime?

Gratitude brings happiness

Some months ago, while car shopping, I posted on Facebook “ Red with a spoiler,…but will it make me happy?”  And my 24- year-old daughter responded, “Yes, yes it will.”  If you know my daughter and me, this exchange seems ludicrous, almost batty.  We both know that things don’t make you happy, that money doesn’t buy happiness. We are accustomed to live frugally.

I know some things that do bring happiness: a heart full of gratitude, time spent with those I love, the sweet feeling of success large or small.

Welcome home from your hike
Welcome home from your hike

Within a week of purchasing the vehicle, I was able to travel to Ft. Collins and visit my two younger children.  I had been desperate to see them for several months. I can take the car to work or into less accessible areas. When I return from a long hike and see my own *Red Pearl in the distance, it is like coming home.  My heart is filled with gratitude.

When I began car shopping, I knew just what I wanted; a dependable, fuel conscious Subaru Outback, preferably red, within the scope of my savings account.   The spoiler was unexpected lagniappe. So is the upgraded stereo system – literal music to my ears.

It is impossible to ever enjoy a feeling of success without having set goals – large or small. Reflection on goals met or sweet success brings contentment and confidence.  The confidence comes from being able to say, “I did what I said I was going to do.”

Andrea commences the rest of her life May 2012
Andrea commences the rest of her life May 2012

I got my children through school.  I finished my degree.  After much research, saving and shopping; I got the car I wanted. But these successes share some things in common. They all cost money, time, focus.

Money may not buy happiness, but it does augment the time I spend with those I love, the sweet feeling of success; and hey, money right when it is needed causes overwhelming gratitude.

This year, I’m going to do what I said I was going to do.  I’m going to write a book.  I’m going to live as though I have been given only 365 days to live.  That is going to take time and focus. Oh, and undoubtedly some money.

* Red Pearl – sorta like the Black Pearl, and captained by a woman.  The dealer certificate lists the color as regatta red pearl.

Who will share your 365 days?
Who will share your 365 days?

 

The piano is not firewood yet

“The Piano is not firewood yet,” this phrase, from lyrics and music by Regina Spektor, is my new battle song – my new anthem.

I shout, “The piano is not firewood yet!” and it is the voice of John Paul Jones bellowing, “I have not yet begun to fight.”

StudioDSCN2750I hear the voice of God asking in the wilderness, “What have you got in your hand, Moses?” and Moses replying, “A rod.”
“Throw it on the ground, Moses.”
The voice calls to me,
“What have you got in your hand?”
I reply, “A Piano!”

For me, Regina Spektor’s lyrics are literal. Maybe for others, metaphorical. But here’s the deal, It is summer weather. I have four more months of warmth in this 365 days to live, so the piano is not firewood yet; though it has been dangerously threatened over the years. But, if it is not going to be dismantled to keep us from freezing, might it be taken from me another way?

Metaphorically, is it collateral? Capital? A sacrificial lamb? What possibilities does it present? Is it merely to attract more students? Is it to rehearse my fingers for performance? Is it setting there between me and my empty wood box, to inspire my stories (I can’t seem to keep the protagonists from playing the piano)?
Is it to point me constantly toward a heart of gratitude? Once, I did not even have a piano and this one was provided generously, almost miraculously, through a friend.

Regina reminds me to press on, to do what needs to be done.
“the piano is not firewood yet
but the cold does get cold
so it soon might be that
I’ll take it apart, call up my friends
and we’ll warm up our hands by the fire”

The Universe calls clearly, “What have you got in your hand?”

I answer joyfully, “A piano! My piano is not firewood yet!

What is this throwdown going to look like?