Digging in the Ruins
New Life Story Seeds # 13
Dear Friends,
It's been a rough spring, with many ups and downs on the health front.
Nothing is the way I had planned, and time and life seem to move on
whether we're ready or not. After a cold, rainy spring, we're in deep summer here in New
York.
Since I'm in a break between semesters, I've been playing with watercolors and a
new digital camera. I've also been
exploring the delicious Life Journal software, finding it to have so many more
features and applications than I had originally thought.
The writer's coffee mug has just been "born," and is now available.
You can take a peek at it at:
http://www.newlifestories.com/
I have just begun to work on some changes and new features for the website.
They should be up in a few days, including the first pictures from this
amateur photographer.
A warm welcome to many new subscribers, for a total of almost 500.
One of the joys of writing this newsletter has been the feedback,
friendships, and correspondence with readers.
I deeply appreciate the inquiries about my health and requests for the
next newsletter. It's growing
primarily by forwarding and word-of-mouth, and it's nice to know it's missed
when it doesn't get published. Keep those emails coming!
And for those of you who keep asking, yes, a book is coming soon, with
more in the works.
Wishing you wonderful new life stories, time to be with the ones you love, and
all the things your heart most desires. Oh, and don't forget to smell the
delphiniums.
Sincerely,
Ellen Moore
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In This Issue:
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A Thoughtful Quotation Juicy Questions Hearth and Soul What If...?
Books/Links/Resources
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A Thoughtful Quotation
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"Help us to be the always hopeful gardeners of the spirit who know that
without darkness nothing comes to birth as without light nothing flowers."
May Sarton, Journal of a Solitude
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Juicy Questions
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What is the state of your garden?
What tools help you cultivate your garden of the spirit?
What is the relationship of effort to harvest in your life?
In your world, what is the function of hope?
What nurtures hope for you?
What in your life is in the germination, incubation, or gestation process?
What do you crave when you're gestating?
What in your life is flourishing or preparing to flower?
What do you need in order to blossom?
What are the patterns of darkness and sunshine in your life?
To what extent can you see your life as whole, all-of-a- piece?
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Hearth and Soul
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Friday, March 17, 2000
I drag myself to the health club for an appointment with the senior master so he
can evaluate my energy flow. It's a
demonstration to allow me to decide if I think these kinds of treatments could
help me.
Jamie is waiting for me at the desk, and she walks up the stairs with me, taking
my elbow lightly, protectively, lovingly--as if escorting an elderly, much
beloved grandmother. I'm not used to this. In spite of my illnesses, I like to
think of myself as strong and vital, and now I'm surrounded by people who care
for me the way I hovered over my grammie in her nineties. It's difficult for me
to accept help, even when I need it, even when I feel safer with another person
to steady me as I walk.
Taking off our shoes at the office door, we walk down the hallway where Dahn
Woon sits in lotus posture on the floor of an empty room.
He has a young, serious face, but when he opens his eyes, they twinkle
through his wire-rimmed glasses, and as he puts his hands together to give me a
slight bow, he smiles. He dismisses
Jamie and waves me to the mat on the floor.
Sara comes to interpret. Dahn Woon talks about the meridians, tells me he
looks for energy blockages, and asks if I have any questions. My neck aches from
swiveling back and forth to look at first one, then the other, so I say
"No." Sara glides out,
and I sink deeper into the mat, confident I'm in caring, skillful hands.
Dahn Woon closes his eyes and guides both hands in the air. Up and down, back
again, over the entire length of my body. After several passes, he settles both
hands on my right knee.
"Hurt here," he says, looking at me for confirmation.
"Yes," I nod. I am amazed
that he has found the most painful site on my body. His warm hands massage the
knee and probe around it, then he works up and down both legs with increasingly
deeper pressure.
Next, he presses lightly on points up and down my sternum. Searing pain takes my
breath away.
"Energy block here," he says. I remember to breathe in through the
nose and out through the mouth as he taught me, flaring my fingers like stars.
I wind up panting to deal with the knife-like sensations on my chest.
It feels as if he's drilling through bone.
"Pant and blow, pant and blow," I tell myself, remembering natural
childbirth coaching from thirty years ago. This is so much more painful, but I
have a sudden desire to giggle as I think of the ridiculousness of this
situation. What kind of
salesmanship is this? Any sensible
person would run. Who would sign up
to pay good money for more of this torture?
"Is that my stomach meridian?" I ask.
"Don't worry," he says. "Don't
think about it. Just relax." I let go of the question, remembering that it
is possible to think too much and that I often do so.
I decide to offer up my curiosity and relentlessly ubiquitous mind in the
service of healing, and I remind myself that not everything needs analyzing. A
constant search for understanding can be a defense against feeling, against
being real, against being simple, against simply being.
That's how it has worked for me.
After kneading my neck and head, Dahn Woon lays the flat of his hand over those
painful spots on my chest. I am instantly plunged into the deepest sadness I can
imagine.
"Sad," I say.
"Yes," he says. "Heart. Let
it come."
Tears roll down my cheeks into my ears. Suddenly,
I am three years old, and I recall a silly little verse my grandfather used to
recite to me when I cried. Something
about "Tears in your ears, Shakespeare." I remember his warmth and his
love and think how much I miss him, how much he taught me, what a role model he
has been for my life. In my mind's
ear, I hear the lullaby he sang as he rocked us to sleep.
"Go to sleep my little baby, Go to sleep and don't you cry." These
words and only these words repeated over and over to the old hymn tune,
"Come Thou Fount of Every Blessing."
I listen to his rich baritone and re-experience the pain of losing him.
It is intense.
I happen to subscribe to the philosophy that the body stores emotional, as well
as physical pain in its tissues. This
is not the first such experience I've had with body work, but it's yet another
demonstration of emotional release when the body's armoring is challenged.
Jamie and Sara are waiting for me in the hall.
They see my tears and squeeze me tight, one on either side of me.
"A sandwich," I say, and the three of us laugh.
Jamie, Sara, Dahn Woon, and I sit around a small table as DahnWoon gives me his
findings, illustrating with the black- painted meridians on a bronze statue.
"Your sadness here," he says, hand on his chest.
"In heart chakra. Sadness
makes lungs bad. Lungs make liver
bad. Liver makes stomach bad.
Blocked stomach meridian makes fat."
We talk about a plan for a year-long series of treatments, healing massage, and
lessons in dahn, and ki gong. I'd also have access to a variety of other classes
and facilities during that time. I
would continue my daily swims, and begin a workout program with the weight
machines.
Sara does most of the talking, tells me about their mission to help people to
the highest level of physical, emotional, and spiritual development possible.
No one at the spa works on commission, she says.
They've dedicated their lives to helping people, and it gives them great
joy to see people become healthier. She
tells me her own near-death and recovery story, tells me about some of the other
members who've had their lives transformed by the training and treatments. It's
a way of life they're talking about, a spiritual quest.
I hear variants of the phrases, "The Creator," and "The
kingdom of heaven is within you." That
sounds familiar.
There's always that cynical voice in the back of my head telling me they just
want my money, that this must be some kind of cult, that I'm treading on air
again, that the only reason I'm feeling so good right now is that I'm just
relieved that the excruciating pain has stopped. I lower the volume on that voice and tell it I'm already
aware of all those possibilities, thank you. That cautious part of me just wants
to keep me safe.
I seldom walk into things blindly or impulsively, and my inner radar tells me
these people are sincere. They have a certain indefinable something I don't
have. I'm willing to learn and
they're willing to teach me. I've
sped down lots of blind alleys before, but my gut tells me this isn't one. I've
been here every day for several weeks, and already a new life story has begun to
write itself.
The day I wrote that first check for the membership, I walked into the dressing
room grumbling, "This club had better change my life."
A Greek-like chorus of women in various states of undress smiled
knowingly and chanted in unison: "Don't worry, it will."
Saturday, March 25, 2000
I've never felt sicker in my life. All week, I can scarcely lift my head off the
pillow, can barely navigate to the bathroom, don't feel hungry, drink quart
after quart of water. Can't sleep
because I can't breathe. Horrible, throbbing headache, fever, achiness, deep
coughing, swollen lymph glands. Can't read, can't write, don't even want to
listen to music, and the mere thought of daytime television brings on waves of
nausea.
Finally I feel a little better. When Sara calls, she is alarmed by the croak
that has replaced my voice.
"Jamie's right here with me," she says. She tells me they are concerned about me since I hadn't been
to the spa for several days, and they were afraid Dahn Woon's treatment had led
to a cleansing crisis.
"It can be like turning on a faucet," says Sara.
Possibly, I say, but I tell them about another program I've been on that would
cause the same kinds of reactions, as well.
After seven weeks of following that almost-impossible eating plan (only
raw vegetables, raw vegetable juices, sprouts, nuts, seeds, wheat grass juice,
fresh fruit, and gallons of water), I seem to be experiencing an
"aggravation," a stirring up of old symptoms and a cleansing period in
which the body rids itself of the accumulated toxins that have made me sick for
so long. I'm told these
"cleanses" are a sign of progress.
Jamie and Sara seem relieved to hear that I'm basically all right, and that I
won't run away from the difficult parts of the healing process.
"We'll pray for you," says Sara as we say goodbye.
Wednesday, April 12, 2000
I can't believe this! Can this
really be true? I feel so much
better. I pinch myself, not daring
to believe that I really feel this good or that this improvement can continue.
Yes, pain still courses throughout my body, but less.
Yes, I am tired, but it's not that bone-weary, nigh-unto-death
exhaustion. Several times throughout the day, I say to myself, "I'm just
sitting in this chair, not sitting in this chair thinking about how much I
hurt." For years, pain and exhaustion have dominated most of my waking
hours, overwhelmed me, taken over my interactions with the world, pinned me
helpless to the ground.
I notice my walk. Lighter, freer.
As I teach, I stand part of the time instead of sitting. When I have a
conversation in the hallway, I stand for a few minutes without looking around
for a chair. I feel my humor returning. I
feel almost vigorous, exuberant, and certainly euphoric.
A kind of exhilaration I haven't felt in years. The world looks like an
entirely different place. It is as
if I see with new eyes. Colors seem brighter, and I can connect with people on a
deeper level, no longer avoiding them, no longer lowering my eyes and mumbling a
quick retreat.
All my hard work is paying off, and my new motto is "Nothing tastes better
than getting well." I crave
healthy foods, and when I do stray from the program, the supposed treat doesn't
taste nearly as good as I thought it would, and I eat only a bite or two before
leaving the rest on the plate. I get to the health club as often as I can, and
I'm settling into a routine of massages, treatments, and classes.
Now that my tissues are saturated with water, I'm thirstier, so I crave water. I
knew that once my health condition began to move, the weight issue would resolve
itself, and sure enough, in seven weeks, I'm almost 20 pounds lighter without
any effort or thought in that direction. Still a long way to go, but it's a beginning.
The pain and fatigue have made me incredibly self-centered, and I'm still that
way, but can begin to think about other things besides myself and my pain.
My mind opens and I feel so much more creative. I want to paint, draw,
sew. I have thoughts of traveling again, dancing, hiking, gardening, undertaking
new projects, getting the dog I've longed for, even clearing out all the
accumulated clutter in the house and garage. I can't do any of these things yet,
but just thinking about them represents an enormous change. Rumblings of a
seismic shift.
Hope. I have hope for the future, hope for a new life.
I think I can do this. I
know I can do this.
Thursday, April 20, 2000
Pain everywhere. Full body spasms
after sitting in that awful chair for hours.
Cascades of pain. I
struggled to smile and keep sitting there, but it was a retirement luncheon, and
an awkward tiptoeing out during "the speech" might have caused hurt
feelings. It was essentially a life
review, an important one, a long one. A
summing up of a career of helping others, and a sacred and respectful tribute
from family, friends, and long-time colleagues.
Crawled home to throw myself into bed for the rest of the day.
Once again, I took care of everyone else but me.
When will I ever learn?
Saturday, April 22, 2000
It's the roller coaster again. Pain
and well-being, energy and fatigue. Highs
and lows with little apparent control on my part.
What if I could actually regain "normal" energy and become "my
old self" again, and do all the things my soul wants and needs to do?
Is this even possible?
I will never know whether healing is possible unless I reach for solutions.
I will have to risk failure and disappointment in order to allow the
possibility of improvement. I must face reality, whatever it is.
But there's no ultimate reality, since it keeps changing and has many
levels and layers to it. Everything
keeps shifting. I'm "standing on fishes," as Rilke says, and I will
accept that condition, without trying to hold on to any thing or idea that
appears solid. I will, I shall keep
reaching to the end. What is that
line from Tennyson's Ulysses? "To
strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield."
I will keep going. I love
and respect that in myself.
Friday, April 21, 2000
I don't know if I really believe in all this esoteric stuff about energy
blockages, chakras, and meridians, but nothing else has worked, and I've tried
almost everything. I suppose I
resonate with that story about the philosopher, Alfred North Whitehead.
When his neighbor came by to find him tacking a horseshoe above the
entrance to his house, he chided him: "Surely, Alfred, you don't believe in
such superstition."
"Of course not," he replied. "But
I understand it works whether you believe it or not."
Monday, May 8, 2000
Consuela must have loved this house and yard--at least in the beginning. I can
tell from the house journals she left behind:
two small leatherette notebooks and a thick blank book bound in red
cloth. Not all the entries have dates, and there's a jumble of yellowed
newspaper clippings and advertisements, recipes for kasha varnishkas and potato
latkes, notes to call for stump grinding and leaky faucet repair. The first book
begins with commentaries from both her and Emilio written beside carefully cut
and pasted ads from the "Houses for Sale" section of the Sunday Times.
They lived in the city then, and drove out to the suburbs on weekends.
In the red book, she made copious entries in both Spanish and English about
seeds and fertilizer. There is a diagram for a huge garden.
Kale and collards at one end, tomatoes, basil, and pole beans at the
other. Notes about planting,
thinning, pruning. Lists of costs for garden supplies. An account of rescuing starving kittens from an abandoned
building. Names and descriptions
for various squirrels and raccoons that frequented the yard--Red, Fuzzy,
Ringtail, Bright Eyes.
"Emilio cut the lawn on June 10," reads one entry.
A younger and more energetic Emilio than the one I know.
Today there is no lawn, only jungle. It's
a ruin. Consuela's azaleas have all died, her beloved roses tangle the
sidewalks, and her grape vines have sprawled wild to cover the house and most of
this half acre. I can't find a
trace of the apple, cherry, peach, apricot, and fig trees she wrote about
nurturing so carefully. When I ask Emilio about the fruit trees, he says he
doesn't remember, but he shakes his head sadly.
"Never enough sunshine," he says.
I can't be sure if he's talking about the yard, the house, or the
marriage. In the 18 years since
Consuela left, nature has obliterated most of its memory of her.
Saturday, July 29, 2000
So many plans, and I've been able to bring none of them to fruition.
In March, I thought I felt well enough to attempt some long-overdue
dental work. I spent most of the spring curled up in a ball from the
after-effects of a protracted series of dental "adventures."
Finally the source of the mysterious pain was found and corrected after
many long trips back and forth.
"How's the raw foods program going?" asks a friend.
"Are you kidding?" I say. "I'm
on the mashed potato diet now."
"Oh, what can you eat on that plan?"
"Mashed potatoes."
"That's all?" she says.
That's all I could tolerate for weeks and weeks. Mashed potatoes and a little pasta. Couldn't even drink water without setting off waves of pain.
Not recommended. Not recommended at all.
I had tremendous success on the raw foods program. Seven weeks of very hard work gave me a week and a half of
definite improvement, but I seem unable to stay on the program now.
Maybe my body is craving protein; maybe I need a new plan.
At least I now have hope that improvement is possible. After all the
dental work, I've finally arrived back up to square one, and am desperately
happy to be there.
The health club and the people there have become both community and family.
During the dental disasters, I was so sick I couldn't even get there
often, but now I try to go every day. If
I'm too tired to swim, work out, or take a class, I go just to sit in the hot
tub or lie on the warm granite in the Silent Room. It's the best money I've ever
spent.
There's a constant battle to find time to write between trips to the grocery
store, classes, clients, groups, naps, exhaustion. The idea of fixing up the porch for a writer's retreat--a
"white room"--has long been abandoned after I spent so much money at
the health club. Birds fly in and
out of the porch, and broken glass still litters a corner of the patio.
I haven't yet found a contractor willing to take on the job for a
reasonable price. I had wanted to
install window boxes and shutters on the front of the house, clear out dead
trees and brush from the yard, reorganize the kitchen, do something about the
poison ivy. I had wanted to have a
garden this year, or at least plant a few perennials. I keep hoping.
When I think I can't stand to look at it another minute, I get delirious urges
to rip down all of Consuela's gold, gray, and brown cabbage-rose wallpaper.
Some days I dream of a bigger, sunnier house with a huge kitchen and no
stairs. Other days, I'm just
grateful for the comfort of this cozy little home in the suburban wilds.
There's so much I want to do, and I have so little energy.
Still, I'm hopeful.
"Call the representatives of brute force," says Emilio. Yes, it's
true. Strong young workers could
dig, plant, paint, chop, clear, renovate, and I could direct, point, and pay.
But on most days, even that kind of effort seems beyond either of us.
"What a couple of wrecks we are," laughs Emilio. Yes,
ruin is everywhere we look. It's an
ongoing battle against entropy, within and without.
Ultimately, it's a losing proposition.
In a burst of November energy, I began the Hearth and Soul column to document
the process of renovating this house and restoring my singed soul.
At that time, I did not know the story would take a turn toward health
issues. But it's all one, I
suppose. To paraphrase the old
song: Soul bone's connected to the
body bone. I remind myself that it
is never selfish or arrogant to reach for what I need.
Never. The dream of physical health is not a shallow goal; health will
give me more energy to help others.
I'm beginning to learn that getting older is not for the cowardly.
That becomes clearer with every passing year, but there are
compensations. As Yeats said:
"An aged man is but a paltry thing, A tattered coat upon a stick, unless
Soul clap its hands and sing, and louder sing For every tatter in its mortal
dress."
So that becomes the most important task, to allow entropy to take its course and
to seek syntropy of soul. "Where
there is ruin, there is hope of treasure," wrote Rumi.
I will excavate the ruins of my life--the sorrows, the losses, the
excesses. If I have no marigolds to plant, I will dig in the garden of the
spirit, and I will cherish both the darkness and the sunshine. I will find the
will and the ways to create a simpler life.
At times, I will retreat; at other times, I will advance. When the way
before me is blocked, I will create new paths where none exist. Maybe next week.
Maybe tomorrow.
Tomorrow is another day.
=====================================================
What If...?
=====================================================
What if you just kept on writing, telling those stories from deep inside you, no
matter what?
What if you launched your words like shooting stars into the dark and welcomed
rejection as proof you're sailing toward your dreams?
And what if you finally allowed yourself to become the writer your soul always
believed you could be?
*****
I've struggled with these three questions for several months now, and I've
designed a coffee mug with the text above.
As I drink, the cup reminds me of my purpose in life and of the
importance of perseverance. Reminds
me that rejection means progress, that the gift of rejection says only
"Move on. Ask again." That
rejection frees me up for a fresh start. That rejection is an open door on the
way to reaching my goals. I am
inspired with every sip.
Flowing black script wraps around white porcelain. It's a generous 15 ounce size, and it's dishwasher safe.
Perfect for coffee, tea, hot cocoa, pencils, or paintbrushes.
Great for gifts because you can order them from the web and have them
sent directly to your friends. Simple,
elegant, no effort. Brilliant, huh?
And don't forget to order a mug for yourself.
They're available only on the New Life Stories website, where you can see
the script and a picture of the mug. (Same
text available on mouse pads and Tee-shirts).
http://www.newlifestories.com/Gifts.html
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Books/Links/Resources
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WALKING A SACRED PATH: REDISCOVERING THE LABYRINTH AS A SPIRITUAL TOOL (Berkley
Publishing Group, 1996) Lauren Artress of San Francisco's Grace Cathedral has
written a beautifully inspiring book about the meaning, uses, and history of
labyrinths. She focuses on the
seeds of spiritual hunger, rediscovery of the divine within, and the labyrinth
as a blueprint for transformation. http://bn.bfast.com/booklink/click?sourceid=1342882&ISBN=1573225479
THE WRITER'S JOURNEY: MYTHIC
STRUCTURE FOR WRITERS If writing is your call to adventure, or if you're a fan
of either Joseph Campbell or Carl Jung, you'll want this second edition of
Christopher Vogler's book. You'll
be able to explore the hero's journey as it relates to your own life, and also
use the book to map out your fiction, tighten up story lines, and resolve
structural issues. http://shop.barnesandnoble.com/OopBooks/UsedBook.asp?
sourceid=1342882&author=Christopher+Vogler&ean=2770587287559
THE PROCRASTINATOR'S WAY "Many self-help books for writers continue to
change lives for the better," writes Meisha Rosenberg at Salon.com, but she
goes on to note the ways writing books can actually hinder writers.
She admits her own addiction to self-help books, outlines the problem for
writers, and offers a paradoxical prescription.
Great food for thought, and while you're there at Salon, you can explore
other articles about writers and writing. http://www.salon.com/books/feature/2000/05/26/self_help/index1.html
THE WRITE SOURCE The Write Source provides custom designed, individualized
programs to meet your creative writing needs.
Their editing and publishing professionals can work with you by phone,
fax, and email to help you grow as a writer, develop your craft, and bring your
work to publication. The Write
Source Writers' Association provides classes, idea exchange, problem solving,
networking, inspiration, and support. As
much or as little assistance as you'd like. http://www.prowlers.com/~thewritesource/
LIFE JOURNAL If you ever use your computer to journal, you'll love Life Journal
software. Created by a veteran
journal keeper, Life Journal is now easier than ever to use. Quotes and prompts pop up when you want them, and there's a
dream journal to help you identify recurring themes and images and an
interactive daily pulse to monitor your mood, health, energy, and stress levels.
Of course, you can search any entry in seconds by word, phrase, title,
date, topic, or daily pulse. I love
the Life History Record where I can build my autography on a timeline and even
add pictures from the new digital camera! I've
learned to integrate my own system with Life Journal, and I'm finding new
journaling inspiration. If you mention code "EM115," you'll receive a
discount from the already-reasonable price. http://www.lifejournal.com/
COFFEEHOUSE FOR WRITERS Coffeehouse
for Writers got the nod from Writer's Digest, with a listing as one of the 101
Best Web Sites for Writers. Hang
out with writers and take advantages of many resources, including online
workshops. Feed your muse, perfect your craft, and nurture your creative side.
Great links and networking opportunities. http://www.coffeehouseforwriters.com/faqs.html
FICTION FIX NEWSLETTER The nuts and bolts of crafting better fiction--revealed!
Essay contests, feature articles about the writing life, and much more.
Subscribe to the inspiring newsletter. http://members.tripod.com/fictionfix/
ARCHETYPES STORYTELLING CARDS I've just ordered two decks of the new
storytelling cards, and can't wait for them to arrive! You can use these
beautifully illustrated cards to develop situations, traits, and characters for
games and stories. You can also use
them for divination, if you're so inclined.
I'm planning to explore my own conscious and unconscious paths, as well
as those of my fictional characters. http://www.thecards.com/
DEENA METZGER "To follow story is to understand the
path of healing. Each of our
stories is a universe. Each one of us is living a story. To discover its
shape and essence is essential to soul making." To learn more about her
Global Council of Elders, visit her website.
Her books include Writing for Your Life: A Guide and Companion to the
Inner Worlds and The Woman Who Slept with Men to Take the War Out of Them.
Remember the famous Tree Poster? That's
Deena with her arms stretched wide in triumph--survivor, force of nature, living
archetype. http://www.memcore.com/deenametzger/
LETTERS FROM NEW ENGLAND Settle in for a visit with my long-time cyber pal Kay
Richard and her delightful on-line journal. You'll feel as if you know her and
you'll want to go back time and time again
Links and books and new ideas to explore. http://members.xoom.com/jrnlwtr/frontpage.htm
You'll also want to read all ten of her new articles on writing and health at:
http://www.themestream.com/articles/50784.htm
THE JOURNAL STORE For a luscious array of journals of all styles and shapes,
pens, inks, and journaling software, visit The Journal Store.
http://www.thejournalstore.com/
AUTUMN COTTAGE DIARY Pour yourself a cup of Earl Grey and prepare for an
enchanting stay with another long-time Internet friend, Roz Cawley at Autumn
Cottage. Tour her 1700's
thatched-roofed home and gardens, luxuriate in the English countryside, and
browse her collections of textiles, old books, and prints. Read her renovation
diary and join the discussion group. http://www.delamici.demon.co.uk/
http://www.delamici.demon.co.uk/rozown/newme.html
ONE WOMAN'S WRITING RETREAT A great resource for writers, both male and female!
Includes a series on e-publishing, interviews with writers, reviews, feature
articles about the craft of writing, and helpful links.
In the writers' lounge, you can meet the guests, interact, learn from
published authors and agents, and read excerpts from their work.
http://www.prairieden.com/
SCHOOL OF HEALTH Learn the principles of healthy living with Cyndi Thomas, N. D.
As a naturopathic doctor, she teaches that the body will begin to heal
itself when it is given the proper nutrients and the wrong influences are taken
away. On Dr. Thomas's website, you'll find articles on natural
health and steps you can take today to align yourself with your body's innate
self-healing abilities. Subscribe to her free newsletter and also check out
"Vibrant Health," an on-line, weekly, wellness and weight management
program, including menus, recipes, shopping lists, health tips, articles,
personalized food plan, and free email counseling. This is one of the healthiest
and best organized programs I've ever seen.
It's like having your own personal nutritionist at your side! Visit her
website at:
http://www.schoolofhealth.com/
COACH PHILIP HUMBERT Dr. Philip Humbert is available for individual and group
coaching. Every serious athlete has
a coach. Is your success any less
important? There are numerous free
tools and resources on his website, including a motivational screensaver.
His inspirational Tips newsletter is published weekly. Visit
http://www.philiphumbert.com/ or send mailto:Coach@philiphumbert.com for a free
initial consultation.
PAPER TIGER Can you find any file in your study within five seconds? Neither can
I, in spite of numerous, supposedly well- organized filing cabinets, but I'm
getting there. Really! The software
is a breeze to master. It takes a
little time to enter files into Paper Tiger, then it gets to work to organize
everything you feed it. Next, I'm going to enter all my books so I'll be able to
find them and not buy books I already have.
It's the next best thing to hiring an organizer swat team for a complete
dig-out. http://www.thepapertiger.com/
BUTTERFLIES If you live in the Northern Hemisphere, summer is a good time to
create a "butterfly zone." You can encourage many beautiful butterfly
species to hang out in your yard and garden by growing flowers that supply the
food and nectar they need. If you have a wildflower garden, alfalfa, clovers,
Queen Anne's Lace, and teasel lure butterflies. Butterflies also love parsley,
hollyhock, asters, daisies, zinnias, daylilies, bee balm, phlox, and lavender.
You can increase the butterfly population in your yard if you provide the right
kind of groundcovers, sheltered spots, and sources of water.
Learn more about attracting butterflies, and enjoy a beautifully
illustrated butterfly journal at:
http://www.butterflies.com/
SPIRITUALITY AT WORK This community of professionals is concerned with exploring
the practical, living connections between our spirituality and our daily work:
with finding the links between who we are, what we do, and what we believe.
(Also has papers on the meaning of spirituality at work, and how to implement it
in our own location. http://www.spiritatwork.org/
MANY PATHS Many Paths has a vast library of links and information to be applied
to individual spirituality in the work place. http://www.manypaths.com/
FREE ONLINE LIBRARY The Free Online Library e-zine presents a complete listing
of the URLs of thousands of books available for free on the internet. You will
also receive reviews of the best books on the world-wide web.
For a subscription, send a blank email to: mailto:freeonlinelibrary-subscribe@eGroups.com
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