Thoughts on “The Alchemist”

“The boy felt jealous of the freedom of the wind, and saw that he could have the same freedom. There was nothing to hold him back except himself.” – The Alchemist

My new friend Pauline and I went out recently (she’s a writer, too; you can check out her blog here) and we got to talking about the book, “The Alchemist.” I’d started to read it a few years ago but couldn’t get into it. But after a tipsy conversation Pauline and I had at an Irish pub before she went home to Colorado, wherein she told me what effect the book had had on her life, I decided to pull it off the shelf and give it another shot.

I know now why I couldn’t read it before. I wasn’t ready for the message.

The book, which I’m only about 1/3 of the way through, is an allegory about a shepherd boy named Santiago who goes in search of his treasure. On the journey, he learns lessons about life, personal calling, and love.

In this new (scary, undefined) season of my life, it’s applicable because it not only holds a mirror to show me where I’ve been and what’s been holding me back, but also shows me that there is more beyond the reflection, and that I am the only one keeping me from stepping through the looking glass .

It got me thinking about what someone referred to as this security blanket of fear and insecurity that I seem to have wrapped myself in; this friend noted that it might make me feel safe but also holds me back, adding, ”We are running out of time in this great thing called life…if you don’t throw that security blanket away now then it will be never and that would be really sad…”

This friend is right. And it’s a little scary that, despite what has felt like progress these last months, someone still saw it. Because I’m not secure at all and I don’t want to be held back anymore.

But wanting to move and knowing where to go are not necessarily the same thing. Do I have dreams? If someone came to me today and said I could have one of my dreams come true, I don’t know that I’d even know what to ask for. I don’t have a dream job. I don’t have a passion. Do I?

God knows I tried to explore some of that last year. Dog training? Job at the animal hospital? Starting (and stopping) various writing projects? Not only did none of it make me happy, most of it made me feel miserable, because I failed at it all. Not because I’m bad at the things I tried, but because none of them are my dream and none of them made me feel fulfilled.

I was at my happiest 8 or 9 years ago, when I was doing publicity for a local band, mentoring a few musicians (including John, my son I never had), volunteering for local causes, and even going on that trip to Mexico. (Yes, friends, for those of you who don’t know this story, I – who hated to fly, couldn’t speak Spanish, didn’t know sign language and once almost killed myself with a folding chair - flew to Mexico to do construction at a school for deaf children. Twice.)

I was giving and giving and giving, and it was the act of giving that renewed me. It was a wonderful season in my life.

So what happened?  The season changed – the band moved to LA; John died; my work in Christian music became empty; the volunteer projects changed; the well started to run dry and rather than stand back and refill, I kept giving.

I tried to find another band to work with, I volunteered for other projects, I started a writing group with a friend, but in truth I was exhausted. Eventually I was starting to feel annoyed in the company of other people. But rather than taking time to reflect on why that was or the dangers of not addressing it, I simply redirected my (exhausted) energies. 

Somehow, I had convinced myself that helping other people was not enough; that I had to turn it into something with my fingerprints on it. A book, an article, a … whatever, as long as it was something that would prove to the world that I had been here and made a difference.

I tried desperately to bring in income through my writing, but when it was financially successful it exhausted me creatively, and when it was creatively fulfilling I felt like I was writing in a vacuum.

Other areas of my life were also struggling, and while I recognized it I had no ability to change it. Fortunately, when most of your life is fulfilling and positive, you’re able to manage the parts that aren’t much more easily. But when you let failure and defeat creep in, you begin to see the dark shadows that have been lingering in the corners, and rather than shed light on them you invite them to take up residence.

In the introduction to “The Alchemist”, Coelho writes:

“I have known a lot of people who, when their personal calling was within their grasp, went on to commit a series of stupid mistakes and never reached their goal – when it was only a step away.”

Yup, that was me. I had forgotten my calling. I had forgotten that the ability to make people laugh is a gift, or that being able to introduce Person A to Person B so that they can make their dreams come true is, in itself, priceless. I was blind to the fact that I lived in every dream I made come true for someone else.

I have this quote written down in my notebook; I don’t know who Sonny Melendez is or where I saw a video, but here’s what he said:

“Our job is to first find our gift … then when you use that gift to give back, without asking or needing anything in return, that’s when you’ve really arrived. That’s what makes you who you are rather than what your title is.”

Perhaps, like me, you’re trying to find out who you are. Perhaps, like me, you convinced yourself for too long that a dark cave was the safest place to be. 

Perhaps, like me, you’ve recently decided that, consequences be damned, you will not just exist but live, and that while you’re still not sure which direction to move, you’re willing to just move in order to simply feel the sun on your face and the wind at your back.

If so, consider this: ”To realize one’s destiny is a person’s only real obligation.” It really may be that simple.

This is a new season. My drought is over, washed away by laughter and love and renewing of the spirit. And I believe, as Coelho writes, that the Universe is conspiring in my favor.

Puppy mills, shady petitions, and other updates

For those of you who don’t read my Heavenly Creatures blog over at Patheos.com, you may have missed the hot topic last week about a commercial dog breeding facility proposed for Gorham, NY. The town board originally approved a special use permit for Curtis and Jolene Martin, who currently operate a facility in Varick, NY (near Seneca Falls in Seneca County). The plan is to build a facility to house 200-500 dogs to breed and sell wholesale to pet stores across the country.

The approval for the special use permit was unanimous, but once word got out about the planned breeding facility, it was clear the board didn’t have any idea what they’d just OK’d. The Martins run what is nicely called a wholesale dog breeding facility – but is also referred to as a puppy mill (or puppy “farm”, if you listen to Channel 10 news). Hundreds of dogs bred over and over and over to produce puppies for sale to commercial pet stores. They’ve been cited for violations in the care of the dogs. And even without violations, breeding 500 dogs factory-style just isn’t right any way you look at it.

Well, that’s how I feel about it, anyway.

It’s a hot story that culminated Wednesday with an open meeting in Gorham that saw 400 people show up to share their views. The meeting opened with a statement from the town supervisor that the permit had been nullified and plans would have to be approved by the Ontario County Planning Board. If you missed anything, you can catch up on the Heavenly Creatures blog:

• Large “wholesale” dog breeding facility (puppy mill) approved for Gorham, NY
• Gorham Town Supervisor recommends moratorium on dog breeding
• What you can do about animal cruelty in your community (whether you live in Gorham or not)
• USDA Animal and Plant Health Inspection Service (APHIS) reports on the Martin’s Seneca Falls facility
• Gorham residents speak out on dog breeding facility; approval nullified for now

One of the things people who were riled up did to try and make a difference was to start petitions. One girl in Buffalo collected 9,000 signatures. And I found out today that someone had started a petition opposing the puppy mill, with the target as my blog … to “STOP HEAVENLY CREATURES APPROVAL TO BUILD AND BREED.”

Which is ridiculous, because I’m a writer, not a breeder or a builder.

And even worse, they used a photo of my Scout as the logo for their petition.

So if you are asked to sign a petition about a puppy mill that includes “Heavenly Creatures” and this photo of Scout – don’t sign it. I have no clue what this person is trying to do – he appears to be an animal welfare advocate -  and I don’t want my readers to be taken in because you see darling Scout’s photo and assume I’m involved.

All of the hubbub did do one positive thing: I’ve become fascinated by the fervor that some animal welfare advocates have approached this topic; it reminds me of the polarizing, self absorbed, single issue mindset I’ve seen in religious communities. People driving hours to protest puppies while ignorning animal cruelty to other animals. Also surprising: the diverse attitudes within the Christian community; there were people of faith whose response to the puppy mill issue is “it’s their business.” So I’ve launched a little project to research and write more on animal advocacy and religion.

Well, that’s all the writing news from The Funny Farm for now. In dog news?

My crying bouts over Scout have become controllable; his remains are in a lovely wooden box from the vet, which is inside a pretty box that says, “Love and Inspire”. It also holds his collar and paw print in plaster (OMG that was such a lovely thing to get from the vet). It sits near my bed. I still can’t go into my office, where he spent most of his time. He preferred to hide under my desk and wedged behind the chair. Even though he chose that spot, it pains me to think of him there, hiding out by himself. I’m plagued by guilt over what I could have done, should have done, the stress his had in the last six months of his life with Bandit and Bailey. Sigh. I need to go find the tissues.

Bailey is doing a lovely  job with her puppy school practice, what little we manage to do. She’s quite fond of doing circus dog tricks – through the hoop, over the yardstick; I think she’s channeling Scout. Bandit occasionally seems a bit lonely without his brother but he’s one super snuggle monster. We’ve been hitting the park for romps and runs, and Bandit made a new friend at Beyond Hardware. You can read more on his blog. These two are still separated 24/7 but they’ve calmed down a lot. I still don’t leave them home alone together, even separated. Bailey is an escape artist and if she broke out of her crate … well, we’re not ready for that yet. But she’s doing great working on spending time in a crate. And when I go somewhere, I just take a dog with me!

Well, that’s all for now. Stay tuned and keep in touch!

Another “late bloomer” success story – which gives me hope, again

Not long ago I stumbled upon a popular series of books by Lilian Jackson Braun, “The Cat Who …” did just about everything under the sun. I don’t normally like series books but I’ve changed my tune, falling in love with these feline-fueled mysteries.

And today I learned that author Lilian Jackson Braun was a late blooming success!

Lilian Jackson  Braun wrote the first book in the series, “The Cat Who Read Backwards” in 1966, followed by two more novels, in 1967 and 1968. When the first book hit the shelves, Ms. Braun was 53! And then … she didn’t publish another book for 18 years.

She spent many years as a lifestyle writer and editor at The Detroit Free Press, retiring in 1978 . In 1986, she resumed the series, going on to publish dozens more best sellers. Her final book was published in 2007, she died last year at 97 – world renowned and beloved success.

Stories like this give me hope; at 47 I often feel like life had flown by and I’ve done nothing with it. But there’s a lot to be said for success later in life. Maybe I haven’t written a book or made a living writing … but stories like this remind me that there’s still time!

Sanctuary is wherever I lie my head (or in this case, Sleepy Nap Time)

It’s more than a little ironic that this week I was supposed to write a piece on the idea of “sanctuary” as part of conversation hosted by the Patheos Book Club about the book, “ Sweet Sanctuary“, by Sheila Walsh and Cindy Martinusen Coloma.

It’s a lovely story about spiritual healing and forgiveness and … there’s a party … and … argh. If I could clear my head I could tell you more.

But my work to-to list has tripled in length in the last 72 hours. The cat is rolling around on my laptop keyboard (he’s already removed the “t”, “F3” and “alt” keys and sent an email I didn’t write). The dogs are barking non stop at the neighbor trimming his hedges, and the puppy is shredding yet another couch cushion.

Excuse me while I scream.

It’s not been a bad week, although it might sound like it from that little snapshot. I’ve gotten some paying work (yay!) and all of the dogs are healthy (yay!) and Bandit and I are planning a trip in a couple of weeks to go to a pet blogging conference (woof!).

But sometimes, even an overload of good things can be too much. Add in some wet dogs and pillow stuffing strewn around the living room and, well, let’s just say, Mommy needs a nap.

Christianity, compassion and man’s best friend at Patheos.com

I did guest blog post this week at Patheos. com for their book club, and I’d love for you to check it out! The book up for discussion is “The Friends We Keep: Unleashing Christianity’s Compassion for Animals.” I wrote about my favorite animal, dogs.

You can check the post here, and read more about the book on the Patheos.com book club page.

Why I couldn’t go back to school

I’ve said many times over the last year that if I was younger and richer, I’d go back to school and study animal behavior. Since I am … err … past middle age … and I have vet bills I’ll be paying off for years, I embarked on a course of independent study that includes books on dog behavior, training, communication, etc and builds on what I’ve been reading over the last year just for fun. I’ve also talked to a dog trainer about apprenticing (although I need to get settled into this new part time job and get Scout comfortable first).

But I’ve added another reason why I couldn’t get a graduate degree in animal behavior: I’m not smart enough. No, I’m smart, and literate, and curious. But I know my limits. There’s a reason why in college, when I tried to double major in Communications/Journalism and Psychology, I had to, in the end, graduate with just a Communications/Journalism degree. I couldn’t pass Statistics.

Couldn’t pass, couldn’t understand anything about the class. I don’t even know if I understood what days the class met. (I signed up and dropped the class twice. The second time the teacher asked me why I was never in class. As far as I knew, I’d been there every class. Either I was invisible, or truly stupid.)

And I’m reminded of all of this while reading “Genetics and the Social Behavior of the Dog”, the classic study by Scott and Fuller on how genetics and heredity affect dog behavior. It’s very interesting. But I’m at the part of the book where they’re talking about their statistical findings.

This kind of stuff, I understand:

A challenge for my readers: 31 days of Thank You

Let's spend the month of May saying "thank you"!

In his book, “365 Thank Yous: The Year a Simple Act of Daily Gratitude Changed My Life“, author John Kralik chronicles his attempt to write one thank you note a day for a year. Ironically, when he started the project, his world was falling apart. Financial ruin was on the horizon; his personal relationships were unraveling just as fast.

But he started writing a thank you note a day, and in doing so realized that not only did he have a lot to be grateful for, the simple act of reaching out to someone else with a positive thought gave them a boost, too.

In my May column for the Christian Voice Magazine, I issued a little challenge to readers to write one thank you note or note of encouragement a day for the entire month of May. And I’m inviting you to join in!

Ideally, you’d actually write a note on paper and put a stamp on an envelope. While it’s more time consuming, it actually shows a much greater degree of care and commitment than just shooting off an email. It helps you connect more with the person to whom you’re writing and gets you more invested in the project.

We’re not talking lengthy missives. We’re talking postcards, short notes, even positive feedback on comment cards. Give your favorite cashier or waitress a pat on the back, for example, by writing a little note to their manager. Send a note of thanks to a neighbor or write a little “pick me up” to someone you know who’s down in the dumps.

And then tell me about it! How did you feel being grateful or encouraging every day? Did you get feedback from people who got your note? What was the most rewarding part of the adventure?

You’ve got a few days to prepare. Dig out some paper and pens and buy a book of stamps. Find your address book and get ready to be grateful!

Reading the Bible in amazement

I was asked to participate this week in a blogger roundtable on Michael Card’s new book, Luke, The Gospel of Amazement. In the book, Card encourages readers to experience the Bible more deeply using what he calls “biblical imagination”.

We don’t read the Bible expecting to be amazed, do we? We’re surrounded by so many amazing things every day – electricity, indoor plumbing, organ transplants, space travel – that we’ve become immune to the concept. We treat the Scriptures like outdated literature, worth slogging through as part of our religion, but a text lacking in anything that would actually boggle our mind.

But what if you took the time to study more than just the words on the page? Took time to smell the smells and hear the sounds and feel the heat of the desert and the waves of the sea?

You can read my entire post on Patheos.com; I chose to explore Luke 2, and look at the events of the shepherds from their eyes. Truly amazing!

And you can check out all of the Patheos Book Club entries on the website.

Be the person that showed up

As I pull out old files and notes for the missions project I worked on for a while and then back burnered (is that a word?) while I focused on Christian music, I find there are lots of new and really interesting stories of people serving and volunteering that I can’t wait to investigate further

Case in point: Conor Grennan, founder of Next Generation Nepal. Conor traveled to Nepal to volunteer at an orphanage and after learning that the children weren’t necessarily orphans but victims of human trafficking, made it his mission to help reuinte the children with their parents.

In this video, one line stands out to me, when Conor is explaining “why me” and he says, “I was the person that showed up.”

That’s what serving is all about. You don’t have to have some master plan or have the details all worked out. You don’t even really need to know the problem – Grennan went to an orphanage and now works with victims of trafficking and their families, not something he’d envisioned as his life’s work. All you have to do is show up.

Grennan chronicles his experiences in his new book, Little Princes: One Man’s Promise to Bring Home the Lost Children of Nepal.

The Rochester riots, the Alphabet Killer, and me

Sometimes I lie awake a night, thinking about things that surface from my subconsious totally unbidden. Last night, it was about fear.

Those of you who know me well know that I’ve suffered from anxiety issues my whole life. Those of you who don’t know me won’t be surprised to hear that earth shattering news, I’m sure. At one point, I had anxiety attacks that were so bad I couldn’t leave the house. Fortunately, that was only for a short while, but make no mistake. I’m much more comfortable in my house, in my pajamas, with the dogs.

Talking to a psychiatrist once, he asked me about my childhood, searching for a trigger for my anxiety attacks. Without going into detail about our conversation, he thought I feared “having the rug pulled out from under me”. In other words, I have control issues. Being unable to control my circumstances leads to fear and anxiety.

So anyway, I was lying in bed last night, my little brain in overdrive. I was thinking about the riots in Rochester in 1964, because Bob Lonsberry was talking about it this week on the radio.

I was thinking about the infamous “Alphabet Killer” who allegedly murdered three young girls in the early ’70s, because I’m reading a book about it. And when I bought the book, I had been talking to Shelley, a fellow writer who works at the bookstore. She and I are about the same age, and she said that she remembers the “double initial” murders and is affected by them to this day. I agreed.

And last night, while all of this was stewing around in my brain, that’s when I realized something: I was born into anxiety.