Just a Musing...

Taking things for granted...Or do we remember to experience gratitude?

       During childhood most of us are taught to say 'thank you.' And typically we meant it, even if we had to work on getting the words right. To remember our manners. I certainty loved receiving a cookie or a special toy. At Christmas my siblings and I were taught to pay attention to the person giving us the gift so that we may show our gratitude and respect towards the giver. Perhaps it made for a more orderly 'opening of the presents' but we learned to appreciate what we were given. And in turn when a gift we gave was appreciated, we felt warm and fuzzy inside because we knew they enjoyed it and were full of gratitude.

      Now, gifts given by a 'giver' who wants our gratitude in such a way as to be controlling is an entirety different manner, left for another article. Because those are gifts we open with a hesitant heart and a wary soul. 

      Gratitude is important, otherwise we fall into the trap of taking things for granted. And unfortunately we don't even realize we take things for granted until suddenly something terrible happens. Absence makes the heart grow fonder and all. But shouldn't we take a bit of time, before we leave the bed in the morning, or before we shut our eyes at night, to take a deep breath and remember what is important? To say 'thank you'. To remember our manners? 

       And not only for things such as clothes, food and toys but for the soil that our food is grown in? The rain that falls on our Earth and supplies us with life? For the sun that warms our planet? Should we remember to be grateful for the cycles of life and the joyful times of development our children grow through? Perhaps we could take a moment to be grateful for dogs because they are loyal and treat us like royalty when we do nothing more than give them pats on the head and puppy treats when they wag their tails?

        It's like writing. I grow frustrated because I haven't achieved my goals, I haven't found an agent or signed with a publisher even though I finished my book and edited until I could edit no more. But perhaps I should feel a bit of gratitude. Why? Because I could write. My brain could form words and sentences and ideas. Because I could embrace my creativity. Because my fingers obey the commands of my brain and type the keys on the computer that I want them to. Journeys of any sort can be difficult, taking our manners with us can help. A bit Pollyanna, I know, (the people that dwell in the world of negative are cringing) but gratitude is a spark of light which is always important otherwise we grow soul weary. And that just sounds like a tired state of being to me.

Monday Musings...

        I have some experience with the publishing world. I was raised around writing and books. It's in my blood. Or at least in the genes. I have worked for a small publisher before, watching them acquire manuscripts, edit, edit, and edit the material some more. Check references and facts. (It was non fiction.) And arrange to have the artist paint the cover. It's a process and the office was always stacked with papers, books, manuscripts, letters, and post it notes. Computers faced the windows and when the editor grew tired of reading, she would look out onto the valley before her.

      I love being there, surrounded by words. 

      Which reminds me of a question that hero hottie asked me the other day. We were driving, just doing mundane stuff, the sort of stuff hero hotties have to do outside the realm of romance novels when he asked me if I liked the way words looked. I was a bit surprised by the question, just because I had never given it a lot of thought and certainty hadn't talked to anyone about it, but yeah, I love the way letters look. I like their shapes and I like how when you put certain letters together you get wonderful patterns of shapes. It's visually pleasing. I love how when I write and read, the words sound in my head, making pictures and stories and feelings. Words are amazing. 

      How awesome is it that we can do a little scribble on the paper (or digital scribble with different fonts) and we create ideas and stories and happiness? What else is so simple yet so intense. Wouldn't our world be boring and monochrome if we didn't have the written word? It would sure make blogging difficult. And how would people text? 

     Once we learn how to read, I think we take it for granted but it is a precious gift. One that everyone should receive. And readers are great for writers. It's a symbolic relationship, you can't have one without the other. 

      And now if I could just achieve my dream of getting published. It would be the coolest. But rejection hits me square in the emotions again and I have to focus on why I like to write. And it's not to please an agent that has vastly different views on life than I do. I write for me. And hopefully to inspire a reader. I just have to find an agent that shares similar views. 

      Keep writing.

Monday Musings...

Moments...


      Precious minutes. Fragments of breath. Heartbeats filled with joy, awe, grief...

      These are the notes that compose our songs of life. Our entire personal script can be written with a tangled mess of moments that tell our stories. What moments changed the road you were traveling down? One brief tick in time and everything changes. When we tell people stories of our lives, we share the moments that stick out in our memories. The things that mattered to us. Usually because that second in time shaped us in some way. Every little thought changes us, sometimes by such a small degree we don't even realize it until enough tiny thoughts have added up and shifted the ground beneath our feet. And some moments are so intense, burning as bright as the sun, that we nearly don't recognize ourselves the next time we peer in the mirror.

     Sometimes the things we remember are not what we expect to. I don't instantly recall every birthday or Christmas present I ever opened. But I do remember all the details in vivid color, when hero hottie proposed to me, among a gray, cloudy morning and a horde of biting mosquitoes. Who can forget huge welts on their calf when they're in love? :)

     But seriously, that moment changed every other moment after that because obviously I said yes. I don't remember the day after, I was floating on cloud nine and I don't, fortunately, recall all the tedious details of planning the wedding, yet that memory is so alive it could have happened a few weeks ago.

    Giving birth, finding our wonderful Buddy at the pound, hiking too many miles, listening to music together and watching Christmas lights, they're all moments in my life. There's so many I couldn't even possibly write them all down. I would bore you too, because although the time hero hottie and I made bagel sandwiches and French fries for dinner while we were dating was important. It was one of the first times we cooked together, it's not a thrilling story. :)

     Moments are vital. They shape us, they change us, they keep us sane.

     And moments are valuable in a book too. A story is composed of moments, carefully and artfully stitched together to make you feel with the characters, to watch their growth as every little moment changes them. And hopefully, if it's a good story, towards a better them. Writing a book is a lot like life...composed of moments that wring the heart the most, sprinkle a bad hair day or two in there and with the realization that we wouldn't be who we are without our fist full of moments to treasure.