Lackluster

Quote of the Day: 

My 'fear' is my substance, 

and probably the best part of me.

~Kafka~

Current Local Weather:

Compliant cloudless complacent complaints.

Currently on my iTunes:

"Mad World"

Michael Andrews

Currently Reading: 

This is How You Lose Her

Junot Diaz

Dear Family, Friends and my Family of Friends, 

Sorry it's been since August since my last blog. Everything between then and now has sucked. Ok, moving on. 

There are always going to be things in this world that you, or YOU, can't control. Wars, accidents, baby booms, hurricanes etc. However, I'm starting to believe this: For everything you can't control, there's something you can. You may not see or know what it is right away, but eventually it will surface. When it does, you need to hold onto it in the best way possible. LOVE IT. Don't loathe it or treat it like the black sheep of the family. Hold it, love it, squeeze it and then fix it to your best ability and set it free. 

However, you should know that just because you feel like you're completely out of control, you're never lacking in substance. LACK: Love, Apathy, Compassion & Knowledge. Those are words that should be part of your universal definition. Always. You begin to lack these things and you'll perish. FAST. Life is not a game and it's not something that you can win or lose. Period. You treat it as such and I guarantee that you'll lose at whatever game you're in the middle of. 

So, this blog originated fifteen days ago. I had originally decided the acronym would be the "F" word. But the last fifteen days have changed me significantly. I mean, not in theory, in the flesh and bone kinda way. The kind only doctors, nurses and those that have watched me go through it and that have been through it themselves will and would only understand. It's not something I can describe, but just know that even while you were sleeping, I was changing not just in size, but in mentality and emotionally, too. Fifteen days ago, I was able to "eat" food if I wanted. I was able to sit down with a friend and have an icy cold beer and know that it wouldn't take much to get me drunk. I had scars that were settled and complacent in their vast void of my abdomen. Now, not so much. 

But fifteen days ago I was admitted to the hospital. This was my third gigantic admission since September 26th. This marked my month and a half mark of hospital days. This also marked the first time that a doctor decided to listen to me and what was on my flippin, frackin', mind. And he didn't dismiss me as a hypochondriac, he said, I know. You're more sick than most people your age. As a matter of fact, if I don't help you, you'll die. Soon. You're physically starving. You're already in menopause. Your stomach isn't working. Another ten days and you'll be six feet under. So, what are you doing tonight? Busy? Plans? How bout an anesthetic cocktail and a trip down to the OR? 

Apparently I agreed to this zany adventure. Docs, crazy folk etc. All the same to me. I'm thankful for the ones that take care of you and the ones that try to hurt you. They're all the same, they're human. 

And, you guessed it. I'm writing this blog to you from my captive bed at Skyridge Medical Center in Parker/South Denver, Colorado. I've stayed in four different rooms at this hospital, this time, since the hospital was kinda overbooked for the week before the holiday, I'm in the pediatric ward. Kinda cool and if you hit the right button on the TV menu you can watch funny animal videos from you tube right on your screen! How cool is that? I digress. 

This admission was only four days in length. I'm getting easier to "treat" as far as my symptoms, making my visits to this pie in the sky hotel, shorter. Thank the good Lord. However, my diagnosis keeps getting worse. 

The night before I drove up to this hospital on my third admission, I knew I was going downhill, and in a very major way. I could feel it in my gut. Literally. If I sit around and think about what this all means in the candy dish we call life, I get angry. Depressed. Emotional. Scared....and if I dig even deeper in this bowl, I start finding those parts of me that are complacent, thankful and dare I say it, free. In the fabulous tune by Coin Hay, "Invisible," he sings, I'm invisible...now I can be free. And most of my days are spent feeling invisible. Free. Lackluster, but still me. I'm no longer hungry. I'm not feeling sorry. I'm trying to forget about the fact that I'll probably never be sexually active again or go on a date to the melting pot for a bottle of wine and kissing afterwards...so, I believe most folks call this PROGRESS. 

But when I tell people about my 50+lb weight loss in two months, I get a sigh, sometimes a look of disbelief and then inevitably they pat their belly and say, "Dude, can I have what you have?" And then I ask, really? Would you REALLY want to take this away from me just so you can lose the weight the doc tells you that you need to lose. Because I don't think you would. I'm a woman that loves to cook and cook for others. I have an entire catalog of my own damn soup recipes and I'm the woman down the all-American street in any town, U.S.A. that can't eat her own food. I'm suddenly lacking a big, metaphorically and literally, fat, appetite. A stomach. A life that goes beyond my computer screen. 

Everything that I thought was making up my core body. I'm lacking in style for goodness sakes! I wear PJs more than not and ya know what, they're never in style. Trust me. Go to the people of Walmart site and you'll see what I'm talking about. And what has replaced all this goodness? Suffering. Pain and more days of Crazy than I'd like to publicly admit. 

But what I do know is that beneath all this crazy is still a beating heart, half polished toe-nails (Someone please come to my house STAT to do a mani/pedi on me!) and a great soundtrack playing through my muddled thoughts. So yes, my battle wounds have proved fatal for my looks and love life, but my scars are healing and proving to be regenerating and recharging for the soul inside. And although I'm lacking in places, I'm never lackluster in my thoughts. I'm butchered but not dead...yet. 

Yours in letting go, lackluster lives and lovely souls, 

Cicily

Extensions and Excuses

Quote of the Day: 

A crust eaten in peace is better than a banquet taken in anxiety.

~Aesop~

Current Local Weather: 

100% chance that hot weather will linger

until all humans in the Springs-area melt away.

Currently on my iTunes: 

"Just Another Parade"

Belly of the Sun

Cassandra Wilson

Currently Reading: 

Tiny Beautiful Things 

Cheryl Strayed

Dear Friends, Family and my Family of Friends, 

How are you? Yeah? Me, too. As a matter of fact, stressed isn't the word for it. Stress has become more of an anomaly to me than not as of late. But it is what it is. I've been involved in so many things that it is taking its toll. Big time. And this time, thank the heavens, it's not taking a toll on my physical health, just my mental health. As you all know, my physical health has never been great but just for updating for update's sake, it's doing much better. 

This blog has nothing to do with my physical health. **you can breathe your collective sigh of relief.**

Lately, I've been sorting out my priorities. Last time I was this over-extended, I posted THIS blog on serenity. I've been trying, desperately so, to find time within my schedule to find me. To be me. And to figure out, yet again, what that means in the ever-changing landscape of my little earth. One thing you'll notice that's different about this blog is that I'm posting what I'm reading in addition to my listening list. I'm doing this for those that don't have a clue when it comes to picking books up off of the shelf. I hope you'll read some of my suggestions....

A good friend and colleague of mine, Kevin Doughten recently pointed me in the direction of a book titled, Tiny Beautiful Things. This is the book that resulted from the infamous advice column, Dear Sugar. 

It is filled to the brim with beautiful tales, stories and sarcastic, dry-humored advice. Her words flew off the page and into my ears. I needed to hear her words peppered with "radical empathy." 

Personally, I think ANYONE that needs "advice" on love, regardless of the facet of love that's plaguing you, should get this book. Put it on your nightstand, on your table next to your toilet, on the coffee table and even in your car in case you're ever in enough of a traffic jam that you can take time out of your schedule and read. **pure bliss**

Onwards. 

What I've been trying to figure out, among this creative chaos in my life, is this: If there isn't one person that's made for us in this world (at least I'm starting to believe this is true), then how can we possibly be one person to everyone in our world? Wait, before you start scoffing, let me elaborate. 

When I originally wrote this blog, I was hiking. I wrote most of it in my head on the way up the trail, found a good resting place...stopped, sat down, pulled out my paper and pen and, yep, you guessed it, wrote it all down. I work better that way. TO give you a better picture of what I look like and what I observe when I'm in the woods, I wrote this: 

I'm sitting amongst the wooded shelter and on top of cool rocks on the side of a steep hill that, at first glance, looks dangerous, obtuse and too high to climb in my average sneakers. But if you look close enough you'll see that the rocks begin to marry one another as they get higher up on the slope. They create a series of sturdy steps and eventually those steps mold into chairs and desks and resting places for those that dared climb them. 

Below me is dirt. Cracked and dry and muddled with shades of black, yellow and rusty umber. Miniature trees are blowing around, talking to one another with their leaves. It's as if those trees are a bunch of giddy women in a dressing room, trying on new, hopeful pieces of a wardrobe for the change in season. 

To the side of the mini-tree sorority, a flower is growing out of the side of a rock. It doesn't appear to have any origin other than the granite. It is strong with tiny yellow buds. Berries are on the bush next to the rock above the flower. They're tempting and succulent. Too red for their own good. There's just enough sunlight over my left shoulder so that I have to squint to write and just enough for me to worry about the fact that I did NOT bring sunblock. It is obviously going to be hot later in the day. To the west and right of me there are clouds that offer a slight promise of rain despite the dapper dryness of the moment. 

My notebook is in my lap, home-brewed green tea is sitting on my rock desk in a Nalgene bottle and there is already ink on my fingers from an earlier mishap with the pen in my hand. I've forgiven the pen. Maybe it was just excited to see me. The paper is breathing patiently as Ben Williams plays quietly in my ear buds. I feel like I know Ben even though I haven't met him. His music is very tangible in an intangible way. 

The trail I took to get here looks easy from where I sit although I know it wasn't. My heart is still pounding in my chest because of it. Water is running somewhere in the distance and I think...it is early...Mother Nature must be bathing her children before they leave the shelter of her home. 

I close my eyes and breathe and then write. To you. For you. 

Without each component the well-orchestrated scene above wouldn't be what it was for me yesterday. If it had been more hot, it would have been uncomfortable. Had it been too steep and no rocks offered their extended hands to help me up, I would have stayed on the trail and blogged from the comfort of my home. Some of the parts of the scene above work by themselves but there isn't really a single description or word that can serve purpose in this picture if used without an accompanying word. 

So why should we come to expect that one person can complete the bigger picture in our own life? And I'm not talking about just romantic big pictures with Tom Hanks and Meg Ryan and successful little book shops that turn into multi-million dollar corporate conglomerates. 

I'm speaking on behalf of your whole circle of friends and family. All of your friends online, off-line, off-the-grid, those who have your back and take you back. And for the hell of it, let's say we're talking about your animal friends, too. 

The driving force in my life, why I do anything I do, is my family and friends. I've had the privilege to gain, lose and become friends with a number of great lovers. I want to give more and receive less so that my friends and family can in-turn give more, too. I wish I could buy everyone more of the intangibles in life. Love is love is love regardless of how it begins or ends and it always feels great when you're in the thick of it. Yet tethering this vast and great responsibility to a single soul or object in your life will eventually weigh you and the ball at the end of the tether rope, down. 

It's time to let loose and shred the clothes that dress your mentality of your past notions of what love, serious and not so serious love, look, act, feel and smell like. Let a whole host of people in your life lift you up when you're down. Gather with others to lift those you love, up. Don't pin the responsibility, just as you wouldn't do it to another person, only on yourself. 

Too many men and women, especially in this generation of post-divorce livelihoods, look for love with an eye kept out for someone that meets all possibilities of "perfection" in the next best coulda-shoulda-woulda that comes along. Instead I am challenging myself to forge through without that expectation and instead forgive myself and the mistakes I've made thus far in my own search for friends, lovers, and more. I worry that if I don't do this, I will always be searching for something that is gone, absent and disappointing before it even begins. 

I love the song, One by: Harry Nilsson. 

One is the loneliest number that you'll ever do...
Two can be as bad as one, as its the loneliest number since the number one...

It's true though. So how 'bout it? Instead of searching for one, we search for many. We find time to extend our love and get rid of the excuses for the person in our life that isn't living up to "being the one." Let's find space carved into the sides of mountains, desks made out of rocks and orchestrations and symphonies out of the streams and solace in walking with a friend or comfort on the ledge more than behind the ledge.

As my favorite onesie that Natalie Poo wears, says, "Choose Happy," on the front and "I am 100% Compatible with My Mommy," on the back. Be compatible with who you have around you and make the most of it. Allow air to be your security; a bed, roof and full belly to redeem each night from the hard day you had.

I know for a fact that it doesn't matter how much that lonely number re-enters your life, if you over-extend your true worth, that ONE thing that makes you, you and worth the world, you will find a result that creates unhappiness, possibly bad breath and wart-laden hands. And all the kind debt you rack up by being everything to everyone will ruin your credit and become too much to pay for the income you bring in.

Allow yourself to be a part of the company of greatness without losing the greatness that is you.

Yours in Trees, Trespassing on trails and Truly Trying to Take Time For Those That Matter,

Cicily

Announcement & Change in October 2012 Retreat

Quote of the Day:

Happy are the painters, for they shall not be lonely. 

Light and colour, peace and hope, will keep them company to the end of the day.

 ~Winston Churchill~

Current Local Weather: 

Massive mountain-shaped clouds

patiently waiting for the words and water to arrive. 

Currently on my iPod: 

Teeth in the Grass

Iron and Wine

Dear Friends, Family and my Family of Friends, 

     Is anyone else out there tired of this hot weather? For Colorado, it's very unusual to have this much heat in a single season. I'm thankful for the rain and cooler nights, but the days have been difficult to handle. I think it's turned everything that's lovable about this state into an unrecognizable beast at times. Personally, I don't react well to heat. At all. Ask anyone who lives with me or near me or knows me well, heat is my enemy. I thrive in the cooler temps, mild temps with a cool breeze and I think I'm in heaven. 

This summer, I believe, everyone in Colorado would agree, has been particularly difficult to handle. As an artist, I find it almost impossible to create or bring to life any ideas when under intangible stress. Whether it be the weather, events beyond my control or general dark clouds of unhappiness above me, my ability to function is not just below capacity, it's absent. I know I'm not the only artist in the world that deals with this issue. In light of the darkness that's overcome a lot of Colorado in the past two months, I have made an executive decision in regards to the October Writing Away Retreat in Breckenridge. 

I have decided to change it into an artist's getaway. All of the proceeds from this retreat will go to directly to the Red Cross to benefit the families affected by the Aurora Shootings and the Waldo Canyon Fire

Here are the details: 

Due to economic decline & Mother Nature's recent rampages throughout Colorado, Writing Away Retreats is taking a break from its usual routine to offer five days of R&R & time to work on individual projects to literary artists (both nonfiction and fiction), poets, musicians and visual artists. The retreat will take place from October 4th-8th at the Little Mountain Lodge in Breckenridge, CO. For the first time in its six-year history, Writing Away Retreats will be a traditional retreat...For one price, this all-inclusive retreat is complete with 3 gourmet comfort foodie meals/day, snacks galore, open beer, wine, coffee and tea bars, amazing scenery and more. There will also be plenty of time to focus on your work-in-progress, escape to the beautiful outdoors, enjoy the company of other creative types, & simply relax.
If you’re interested contact Cicily Janus right away. Space is very limited.

Prices are as follows: • Private Room: 675.00 single occupancy, 775.00 double occupancy • Shared Room: 450.00• Bunk Room: 350.00 

You can sign up and see pictures of the lodge on www.writingawayretreats.info. Go to registration and register but ignore the request for a sample of your work and instead just write the type of artist you are in the sample box and then ignore the payment prompt or check any box. Please specify what type of room you would prefer to stay in.

You will be invoiced the above amounts for the specified room upon acceptance into the retreat.  If you need art supplies at the house, please let me know and we can order them ahead of time so you don't have to travel with them. I can easily add your supply bill to your invoice and you can pay it all at once. If you have any questions, please don’t hesitate to contact Cicily Janus at writingawayretreats@gmail.com or call her cell at 719.323.3469. Also, if you register to attend Author Fest of the Rockies at www.authorfest2012.org you will automatically receive 15% off of your tuition to attend this retreat. Mention your registration for Author Fest on your registration form and your invoice will reflect the discount. I also offer military, education and hardship discounts. Please don't hesitate to inquire about them.
DON'T LET FINANCIAL ISSUES DISCOURAGE YOU! Let's work it out so you can attend and get away this fall.

Payment plans can be arranged.

Please pass the word along about the retreats to any artist you know. If you would like to send somebody or sponsor someone's tuition so they may attend, please contact me and let's make it happen. I fully believe in the power of being able to get away, relax and refresh your soul and how it can affect your life for the better.

Let me help add fuel to the creative fire within you. Trust me, you won't regret this, at all. And if you bring a group with you or if you want to get away with a writing group or reading group etc...or visual arts co-op or class etc., I will surely give a group discount.
Help me, help you.

Yours in Retreats, Rethinking the Reasons and Restarting the Fire,

Cicily

PS: I'm partial to the retreats because they're my brainchild. Of course I think they work wonders! They always do for me...but don't take my word for it, instead, take these folks and their words:

"Words Fail...there aren't many venues out there that provide such a safe and comforting environment for creativity..." ~J. Gilstrap, 2012

"I can't tell you how much this experience has encouraged me and changed my perspective. I feel like I lost a part of who I was and here I found myself again. This is truly priceless to me." ~J. McQuade, 2009

"I have just spent the last week living (and working) in a Muir landscape. It has been fantastic, and one of the few experiences of adult life that lived up to the fairy-tale expectations of youth. Thank you!" ~E. Schneider, 2008

"Before the retreat, I had been through some challenges...please know that my experience at the retreat, at a deep level, helped me overcome these challenges and emerge ever more dedicated to writing." A. ~2009

"For the first time in a long time I have a dream for the future that's now mine for the taking!" ~B. Pedas, 2009

Roots that Refuse to Burn

Quote of the Day:

A house is not a home unless it contains

 food & fire for the mind as well as the body.

~Ben Franklin~

Current Local Weather:

Blissfully breathing in the almost clear air

Sharp winds present, reminding us daily of the

smoky dragon carcass sitting in the canyon.

Currently on iTunes:

“We Found Love”
Rhianna

Dear Friends, Family and my Family of Friends,

Don’t know if you heard about this, as it wasn’t in the news nearly as much as it should have been, but the whole F’ing town was on fire. The pic below is where it all started. 

Two weeks prior to this fire, Ella, Margo and I went hiking up the once beautiful Waldo Canyon (a.k.a. The Dragon). Right away, Ella had an issue with the 14% grade as we began to go up. She kept looking over the side and saying, “Mom, if I start rolling down that side, I’m going to fall right on down to the city! Don’t you know how high up we are?” She was panicking…big-time. As if on cue, two strapping young lads walked up near where we were and I asked them to talk to Ella.

Goal: To get her to calm down so we can get to the end before we get permanent burns from the sun.

They told her (and they were sooo cute and placating, makes me wish I was 19 again), “don’t worry; nothing really rolls down this mountain. Idiots like us wouldn’t be hiking here if that were possible.”

Hindsight being sharper than 20/20 or any other Bahbah Wa-Wa show, we now know that what they said is absolutely not true. Personally, I’m just thrilled we got to hike it and see the beauty that is available within a 10 sq mile radius of our home.

But, we did it. And I tell ya, we were proud.                                                                                                                     

Ok. Enough of that. Moving on to other matters and bothers of the day. Look at the picture below. Here’s where this blog becomes a horror story. This was taken earlier this week. This is what that beautiful canyon has done to our town.

It’s as sobering as it gets. It is the reality of my hometown.

Next morning, this is what we saw:

What struck me as odd about this pic is not the fact that it looks like a war zone, or that the cars are just as crispy and crunchy as the Colonel’s Original Recipe, is that the houses are gone but the trees are still standing.

Trees should have been the first things to go, adding fuel to the fire to burn the structures around them. However, as proven by this pic and others of the Waldo Canyon Fire Disaster, a.k.a. “Hell on Earth, 2012,”(thanks for the quote Mr. President) this is not the case.

Fires, regardless of the destruction they cause, do serve a purpose. It’s like nature's way of going to the IT department and saying…something’s not running right. And the IT department saying…did you turn it off and then back on? And like any obedient child of Mother Nature, they turn on the flame and start the world over.

Even though this fire took away 2 lives (God, thank you. It could have been so so so so many more), a HUGE amount of homes and a city’s general feel-good mojo, it didn’t tear down the family that is and always will be, Colorado Springs. What I love about this town is that it’s not hard to know everyone that’s on your block. It’s not hard to find your way around and if you get lost, there are people always willing to help you.

We’ve got a STRONG military presence.

We’ve got a STRONG economy.

We’ve got the STRONGEST sense of community of any place I’ve lived.

We’ve got, mostly, STRONG people and leaders.

We’ve got a STRONG sense of each other. 

We have a STRONG presence in the world.

We’ve DESTROYED what tried to DESTROY us.

We are STRONGER for it.

That’s right: We found love in a hopeless place.

When the shit hit the fan, there wasn’t mass chaos. It was an eerie calm. People were going about their business until someone got on the television and said, hey folks, mass vacation. Everyone get the hell out. Well, they said something like that.

There were news crews, cameras, twittering journalists, facebooking realists and random people, LOTS of them, asking how they could help. And not in the way of, how can we help from afar, it was more of the, our hands are already dirty in this town, so let’s go ahead and get filthy in the name of saving our city.

Hickenlooper and all of his pals remained calm. Thank the Lord.

Police, Firefighters, and all emergency personnel rallied. It was like this was a real life Cowboys-vs.-Aliens and we beat the ever living shit out of the Mothership.

So take that, Ms. Mother Nature. Ha. You can burn our house, but you can’t destroy our family tree. F#*@^ you.

We’re still here. In solidarity. Stronger than before. So here’s the first-draft of our community-warning letter:

Dear Mother Nature,

We hope this letter finds you well. We understand its raining on your plans to destroy us. Sorry about that. But you have to understand something…although we love what you’ve provided for us thus far and your beauty is always, whether destructive or not, awe-inspiring, please take note that we are NOT dead. We are still standing. We are STRONGER than your mountains. We are STRONGER than your wind, your embers or any other ball of fire you tried to send our way. We are taking our city back and you’re not in charge. Sorry. There’s a new order here. Don’t fuck with us again. Our family tree is stronger than you. 

Love,
Colorado Springs

a.k.a. your favorite Kick-Ass At-Altitude Community

Ok, Colorado Springs…got thoughts on the draft of my letter to Mother Nature? Send em. Send me stories of community via the comments for the blog. Let’s start a trend. A positive trend. A #WeWillNotBeDestroyedByFlames Tweeting Trend…Our hopeless place now has more love than ever before. Bring it.

Thank you to all who helped save us. We love you…and not the middle school kind of crush like love, we love you as if our lives depended on this love. Trust me on this.

Yours in Rage, Relief and Realizing the True Meaning of Community,

Cicily  

Expectations of the Unexpected

Quote of the Day:

Know that everything is in perfect order

whether you understand it or not.

~Valery Satterwhite~

Current Local Weather:

Snowing through the sunlight with 

anticipation of another great night.

Currently on my iTunes: 

Livin on a Prayer

"This Left Feels Right"

Bon Jovi

Dear Family, Friends and my Family of Friends, 

I'm writing to you today from the living room of the retreat house in Breckenridge, Colorado. If you don't know what I'm referring to, go HERE. This has, by far, been one of the smallest retreats yet the very best of them. One of the reasons, actually, the number one reason I do these, is to connect fellow artists back with their muse, their passion, the very purpose that made them pick up a pen in the first place. As busy as this world expects us to be, being extremely busy at doing nothing...I shouldn't say nothing...being busy at getting back to who you once were and improving that self with your new, past and present experiences is a business all of us tend to neglect. And of course, that includes myself. Each retreat has had its own magic. Connections are made, AHA! moments are around every corner, a renewal of spirit and soul to be had by everyone involved. But I'm getting ahead of myself. 

So far...and we're two days into the main part of the retreat, the following has happened among the attendees and staff: 

Sarah Crisman and Becki Davis were paired, solely on the fact that they're both female, in the same room. After much gabbing and late night conversations, they found out that they are related...

Charisse, Weamn, Phyllis and Karen are all one of eleven kids in their family. 

Lisa Scontras and Becki Davis are both dealing with Alzheimer's disease in their elderly parents. 

John Gilstrap and I were both involved in the direct care of trauma patients. He was an EMT, me, a nurse. 

Karen DeGroot Carter and Sara Brentano used to have children in the same daycare. 

Phyllis Glazer has been an inspiration to all of the women in the house in regards to keeping ourselves in love with ourselves...despite those obstacles that seemingly define who the world thinks we should be. 

Richard Earls came down with one of the worst colds of his life and called me around the time he was supposed to show up at the house saying he was going to stay in a hotel instead...I hesitated to push him out of his comfort zone but ended up calling him back and basically saying, look, we're all adults here, this is not a house of just work and writing, this is a house of healing. 

Etc. Etc. Etc. 

The level of connectedness in this house, at this moment is uncanny, unexpected, and very much welcome. There isn't a clear "reason" why we are all together right now. But sometimes, we are brought to new people in our lives through an unseen vehicle. We are found by someone else's energy, through their third person dreams or by physical happenstance. I think the key to not screwing these connections up is to realize that we are not their answer but their motivation or drive to find the path their supposed to be on or at the very least, the outline of the map their supposed to follow.  

The amazing Signe Pike, who is here on staff, seems to have a very wise mother. She said that her mom used to say to her, why do we, especially as women, feel that we have to find someone in our lives that is supposed to be EVERYTHING we need? 

She's right, rather her mother is right. Damn right. Sometimes what we need is someone other than the outer shell of our over-the-top expectations of the people in our lives. Not everyone can be everything, but everyone can give of themselves in such a way that they're assisting someone, with love, to find a way to their bigger picture. 

You wouldn't go to Google Maps and expect them to give you driving directions to a ranch in the Alps from a small town in Texas....right? No, it would take a team of travel experts, a variety of vehicles and more importantly, the will and want to get there. 

Today, I hope you find yourself in the same position I'm in...sitting amongst great company, listening to the wind come off the mountains and hoping that the place I'm going is closer to where I'm at now than it's ever been because of those that have not only loved me, but those that have shown me that love is not a color, it is not a thought, that love is an expected binding of the souls you surround yourself with. And without love, you are nothing. Without love, you can be nothing to no one. 

Yours in Going the Extra Mile, Getting Where You Need to Be and Growing Within, 

Cicily