Don't Do It!

Cursor... Cursor..

After watching the faces at the Oscars last night, I pondered this question. Did you ever wonder why your dreams come true for someone else?

Watching them walk away with everything you’ve worked towards can suck the life and creavity out of you, make you lose vision of who you are, and change the course of your life. But what if you both shared the same dream? Do you compare yourself to that person and wonder why them and not you? Do you resent them for their success?

Don’t do it! We all have paths to follow, and each journey is littered with obstacles and pit stops to negotiate. My path might mirror yours for a while, but then branch off in a different direction. Or, I might need to take a break while you continue on. Then again, one of us could meet someone who speeds us like lightening toward our goal.

Whatever the reason, we can’t and shouldn’t compare ourselves. I am who I am and I’m on my path, and you are who you are and on your own journey. What is important is that we believe in ourselves, never stop dreaming, and never stop working toward making our dreams come true.

www.autumnjordon.com

Embrace the Fanasty

Cursor… Cursor… Cursor…

When I examine myself and my methods of thought, I come close to the conclusion that the gift of fantasy has meant more to me than my talent for absorbing positive knowledge.
Albert Einstein

Recently, we prepared for my future daughter-in-law’s wedding shower. My daughter, as maid of honor, was going crazy trying to come up with an idea for table center pieces and couldn’t get anyone to agree or come up with alterative ideas. The problem she was having was that the bridesmaids wanted something original and they were looking at like traditional wedding sites for them.

Now if you know me, you know I like to get things done, and done right and move on. So I grabbed said daughter and headed to a craft store and began to search the isles for the one thing that would become the nucleus of our original creation. Within ten minutes if entering the store we found it. A vase that had the lines from of the era we wanted to be our party theme. They were even the perfect height.
Continuing our search, we found the ideal mirrors which would be the base for the vases. Together we stood in the isle, envisioning what would fill the vases; candles, colored water, rocks, flowers, feathers, goldfish?

The goldfish was an immediate no as was the feathers and flowers. But the candles, rocks and colored water, they remained on the list. The church where the shower was to be held, wouldn’t allow burning candles and we didn’t want taking a chance of water spilling over the tables setting, so that left the rocks.

After placing several types of commercially packaged rocks and glass beads into the vase we found clear pebbles. Hmm. They had the look but they needed something more. We broke open a battery operated candle and shoved it down into the pebbles. The rocks and glass shimmered with Hollywood glitz but it needed something more to set them off. Glitter. We sprinkled the stones with hot pink and black glitter (the party’s theme colors) and dang we did it. We had an original centerpiece perfect for the occasion.

Why am I telling you this story?

When presented with a problem, whether it is to cook something new for dinner, or decorate for an occasion, or write the next great American novel, open your mind. Exercise the right half of it. Think beyond what you already know and don’t be afraid to experiment. Embrace the fantasy.


September's contest: One lucky follower will win a beautiful Autumn scarf. So don't forget to follow this blog and post a comment or two.

The Creative Gene Syndrome

Creative Gene Syndrome

Cursor… Cursor…

Once upon a time there was a girl. I’ll call her Sally. Sally had dreams. There were those who thought Sally was a little strange, but they didn’t know her. While other children weren’t content to play by themselves and would throw tantrums because friends weren’t allowed over, Sally was totally okay being on her own. Sally read so much she’d wear out her library card over the summer. She’d play with her dolls for hours, draw beautiful sketches or ride her horse to the mountain top and stare out over the valley below. Those who knew Sally knew she acted the way she did because she carried the creative gene.

When she looked at tree trunks or the clouds in the sky, Sally saw an elf doing a tap dance, a wolf leaping from boulder to boulder or something outlandish and absurd to those with her. She saw pictures in the strangest places—every plane of wood or grain of tile carried a tale, and Sally would weave stories to go with them. People would wonder about her, but they would listen with interest to the story she told.
As Sally became a woman, she longed to express the thoughts and the images that gnaw inside of her, but the people in her world said you can’t. You must stop being the dreamer and do something productive with your life—something that will benefit mankind. So, Sally laid aside her dreams, hushed the voices inside of her and followed the advice of others.

New calendars replaced the old many times over and each time Sally saw a teakettle or lion cub in an indigo sky, the voices tears filled her heart. Then, a child entered her life and soon after Sally whispered a tiny tale into his ear and the child smiled. Her delight at seeing his happiness tore a peep hole in the black veil she’d draped over the voices and Sally told him another story, and another, and another. Sally filled her lungs with a joyous laughter for the first time in years. She was being who she was supposed to be, a storyteller. And at that very moment, Sally realized every dream does have a purpose.


IMAGINE



Excerpt from EVIL'S WITNESS

After a week, her touch was familiar. His heart melted. He grabbed her hand, holding her in place as he turned and smiled down on her. Her nipples pushed against her white T-shirt. He gently brushed a knuckle across one peak. “No. It was hell without you.”

“Mmmm. Same here.” She pulled back and lifted his arm around her, curling into him.

Looking out over the lake, she sighed. “I could stay here forever, if you’d let me.”

“I wish we could.” He gathered her closer and kissed the top of her head. “But eventually Bobby and Em would have to go to school.”

“I could home school.” Her chuckle was strained.

He felt her pain. He smiled while his heart wrenched. He would like nothing more than to forget about the world and stay here with her and the kids. But they couldn’t. “Sooner or later Ben will call. We’ll have to go back.”


“I know.”

Steph moved away. A cold void took her place.

She drifted to the other porch column. Leaning against it, she folded her arms across her chest. Her lips pressed together as if she was forming the right words behind them. “I know I said that our time together here was going to be enough to last me a lifetime, but—” Tears brimmed her lids. “I was wrong. A lifetime won’t be enough.”

John stepped toward her. “I don’t know what—”

“I know; you don’t know how we can be together. So, Ben will call. We’ll go back, and I’ll identify Victor. You’ll toss him in jail and throw away the key. You’ll drive off in pursuit of the next bad guy and me…Well, I’ll go home and wonder where you are. Wonder if what I felt was love.”

The woman knew how to make a guy feel like a heel.

John pulled her into his arms. She buried her head in his chest and cried softly against him. He kissed her head and smoothed her hair. “Steph, I didn’t think I’d ever love again,” he whispered softly, cupping her chin and tilting her face up until she looked at him. “Like a bomb, you dropped into my life. Every defense I’d put up to protect myself from ever being hurt again came tumbling down. You opened up my heart. As much as you don’t want to live without me, I don’t want to live without you. I love you."



He kissed her gently. Her arms wrapped around him and held on. “Somehow, we’ll figure this out. I promise,” he assured her.




No part of this post may be used without the expressed permission of the author, Autumn Jordon.