One is a wanderer

We live in a ranch-style house, four bedrooms, two-and-a-half baths, about 2600 square feet. Having grown up in a cracker box of possibly 1100 square feet, this is plenty big for me and my family, with one exception.

I have no office.

When we moved in, I didn't need an office. I worked at Raytheon. Dale and I had a bedroom, Marcus had one, we had a guest bedroom, and we had something we call "The Computer Room." This is a misnomer. It's actually the Computer Graveyard, where all computers go to die. It's also where stray paperwork piles up, along with horse show clothes, boxes of books, and things we don't know what to do with but can't yet discard.

It is not an office. 

So where do I write? In the living room, at the antique table. In the dining room. At the kitchen table. On the living room couch. In the recliner in the family room. I'm all over the place. 

Maybe that's just the way it's going to be. Perhaps my muse likes to be on the move. "Come along, Gayle," she snaps. "We're in the living room today."

My muse does not purr. She's a barking drill instructor.

Today, I decided I would spend more time at the dining room table. I put some motivational hangings on the wall, where I could look at them and try harder. These were presents, from my son at Christmas, and from my gal pal Tameri for my birthday. I hung them around the shelf with my homemade angel and my Welsh wedding spoon. 

Not a bad grouping, eh?

For Christmas, Marcus spent a goodly amount of time pulling all of my four- and five-star reviews for FREEZER BURN and arranging them, in a colorful display. Then he framed it. I'm not sure what I love more, the constant reminder that I wrote something people like, or the constant reminder that my son crafted me a gift from love.

These two are from Tameri. I love them because they speak to me of bravery and friendship. I've never felt particularly brave, but people tell me I am. Mostly, I think I'm just stubborn. Perhaps I confuse the two, courage and hard-headedness. 

And when I'm not brave, it's nice to know I have a tribe of friends who've got my back.

If I only had the nerve.

I've been thinking about change and bravery lately. I think you have to be brave to be a self-published author, and you have to be able to embrace change. Friends tell me I'm brave, but it's the last thing I'd put on a list of my greatest attributes.



And I hate change.

Someone wrote once that you shouldn't work on your weaknesses because they will always remain weaker than your strengths. You should work to make your strengths as strong as they can be. Perhaps they're right and I shouldn't try to be any braver than I already am. And yet, when I want to do something, I find a way to do it, even if my first steps frighten me beyond all reason.

So I may be headed for a slender limb holding the best fruit, both in my career and in my personal life. It may snap and drop me before I reach the goal, but I'm still going to reach for it. Even if I don't get the fruit, I may be led to something more interesting, if I can change my reason for climbing the tree.

It was interesting to me to read my horoscope today, from Free Will Astrology.

"The Buddhist meditation teacher Chogyam Trungpa said that one of the best ways to become fearless is to cultivate tenderness. As you expand your heart's capacity to feel compassionate affection for the world, you have less and less to be afraid of. That's the opposite of the conventional wisdom, which says you become brave by toughening up, by reinforcing your psychic armor. Of all the signs of the zodiac, you Pisceans are best set up to benefit from Trungpa's method -- now even more than usual."

I've  a lot to consider with this idea of becoming less tough in order to be more brave, and you may not believe that horoscopes are relevant or useful. Still, I think it's darned timely that my horoscope is telling me all about something that I am already consumed with pondering.

JUST A REMINDER: I still have a contest going on with my newest book. Check it out!

http://gaylecarline.blogspot.com/2014/05/but-wasnt-there-another-contest.html