Sunday, September 27, 2020

MY HAPPINESS PROJECT!

 


WHAT CAN I DO
TO HANG ON
UNTIL THE ELECTION?

~~~
One day I'm up

One day I'm down.

I NEED A HAPPINESS PROJECT!

I sketch in my journal.


"A cupful of stars"
===

I LOVE MY APARTMENT!

I'm GRATEFUL to have a meal
hung on my apartment door
every day.





But how can I STAY happy???

I write to myself in my journal!



Dear Diary,

A new chord struck

from the tuning fork

in my heart . . .

I've answered my own question!

TODAY IS A VERY SPECIAL DAY!

IT'S THE ONLY DAY I HAVE.

~ ~ ~

This IS MY HAPPINESS PROJECT!

To heed my own words!

"This is the only day I have."

AND TO COLOR IN MY WORLD!

I begin to color in my sketches
with more color
and more
care.




I don't color in a sketch until later




this is what a sketch looks like

as I was writing earnestly 

in my journal.

"TRUST THE PROCESS!"



If I take time to color

I'll lose my train of thought!
-----

Before:


After:


~ ~ ~


IN THE MEANTIME

Here's our Wesley Looney Toons

Ukulele band

led by Rosemary Woodel



We played outside for Roland
who is 99 years old!


Here's our Ukulele song

TIPTOE THRU THE TULIPS!!

THIS IS A 

HAPPINESS PROJECT, TOO!

Over My Head I Hear Music in the Air

 https://youtu.be/KR75GTYw9_w


(Rosemary's wonderful YouTube Channel!!)




Thanks for watching our videos
----
And now . . .
Here's an entry from my new
 self-published book, 

LOVE YOUR FATE
A Poetic Odyssey


Growing A Soul



During those wild, wilderness years,


I’d scrambled myself up a Fortune 500 ladder,


from mail room to corporate communications.


Honed a few skills I didn’t know I had.


Bought a leather briefcase.


Dressed for success.


Flown on a Lear jet to Jefferson City,


sitting behind the pilots,


watching the altimeter climb to 20,000.


After twelve years I started throwing up.


Is it food poisoning, I wondered?


Could it be undercooked chicken?


That smorgasbord at the Greenbrier conference


with Ben Bradlee as keynote speaker?


No, it is my soul vomiting.


Vested interests strangling me.


A new kind of meaning


has come my way,


through poetry mostly,


May Sarton,


Mary Oliver,


Marge Piercy.


Time to stop


and smell the roses


and grow a soul.


=====

=====


Thanks for reading this.



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