Diaries of The Breadman’s Daughter: Good Faith and Libraries.

August 16, 2015 / boo king / Leave a comment

I recently finished reading All My Puny Sorrows by Miriam Toews. Like her other novels, it too was beautifully written and a brilliant read. After I finished the book, I said the same thing I always do, “Damn, I wish I had her talent for storytelling and way with words.” Miriam deserves every accolade ever bestowed upon her. And more.

I loved everything about this book, even the puzzling double ending. But it was a particular passage on page 267 that really resonated with me. Quite simply, it blew my mind.

Here it is:

“What had she said about libraries and civilization? Because you make a promise, she’d said. You promise to return the book. You promise to come back. What other institution operates in such good faith, Yo?”

I’d like to see more promises of “good faith” like this.

Good faith that we’ll do the right thing because it is right, and for no other reason. No matter how difficult. No matter how much we rail or protest or rage against the credo or moral code. No matter how uncomfortable it makes us. We can even criticize, complain and condemn. But after all that, in the end, when the rubber hits the road, we’ll listen to the small quiet voice of our higher self. The voice of reason, truth and common decency. Do the right thing. Keep our promise. We will return the book.

Good faith that when I fall back you will always be there to catch me. And I will do the same for you. We will keep our promise to each other. We will return the book.

Good faith in the ultimate goodness of humanity, that we’re more good than bad. That somewhere deep inside each and every one of us this knowing and wisdom exists. Good faith that evil is an abomination and an anomaly. Not the norm. We will keep our promise to preserve and cherish our humanness. We will return the book.

Good faith that we are, at our fundamental core, good well-meaning folks, living in good communities with good leaders, sending our kids to good schools with good teachers, worshipping freely in harbors of safety, regardless of our beliefs and definition of God. We will keep our promise to be kind and magnanimous and neighborly. We will return the book.

Good faith that when I reach out my hand and heart to yours, that you will reciprocate. And together we will return the book.

Diaries of The Breadman’s Daughter: Work Hard.

August 9, 2015June 25, 2016 / boo king / Leave a comment

Girl Warrior. Work hard. Especially if you want those big dreams to come true big time. Be willing to do whatever it takes. And I mean whatever.

This may not be easy. The road may be bumpy and jagged and full of hairpin curves, blind bends and tricky twists. There will be setbacks and disappointments. At times, it’ll feel like you’re taking two steps back for every step forward. Nothing wrong with that. Think of the two steps back as your opportunity to regroup, reset and reconsider where the next step forward will take you.

And ask yourself this question, “Am I still willing to do whatever it takes?”

If the answer is yes, then get your ass in gear. And get going once again. If the answer is yes, do not stall out. Rest on whatever laurels you’ve managed to acquire this far. Or deploy any delaying tactics. If the answer is yes, resist the urge to make excuses. Whine or hold a pity party for one. If the answer is yes, acknowledge where you’re at and how far you’ve come already. Give yourself a pat on the back for that Girl Warrior. Then examine your options and consider what the next step will be. But if the answer is yes, you really only have one option. Take the next step.

And know this. Other people, circumstances, situations, events, finances, or the state of your current affairs, do not crush dreams. The biggest destroyer of dreams is inertia. Doing nothing. That’s the enemy.

Do nothing Girl Warrior. And that’s exactly what you’ll get.

Diaries of The Breadman’s Daughter: Dream Big.

August 9, 2015 / boo king / Leave a comment

Girl Warrior. Dream big. In ultra-high-definition. Of epic proportions. Beyond the beyond of the beyond. Without brims, borders or boundaries.

The sky isn’t even the limit when it comes to your dreams Girl Warrior. That’s just for starters. Your little aspiration appetizer. Amuse-bouche. Take these dreams of yours to the moon and back, from here to infinity, and then some. See what happens.

And don’t stop at just one. Have so many dreams your heart and mind and spirit cannot contain them. Break all the rules here. There is no magic number. You are not born with a finite quantity. In fact, it’s quite the opposite. Dreams are designed to be an embarrassment of riches.

These sweet dreams are the beautiful seeds that grow the beautiful you.

And always remember that you are the star of your dreams. They belong to you. They are the essential element of your blockbuster kick-ass tale. And absolutely crucial to your never-ending life story. These supernatural keys unlock every door of opportunity. Every possibility, promise and potential begins here. And the best thing is, they are yours to shape and mold and refine in any way that pleases you. Plus the bonus bit is, you can change your dreams at any time you choose. That’s the beauty of it. Nothing’s ever really locked in.

So start dreaming Girl Warrior. And blow the roof off this place.

Diaries of The Breadman’s Daughter: Fairy Dust and the Heartbeat of Oneness.

July 26, 2015 / boo king / 2 Comments

Do you ever wonder why some things in life appear as though they’ve been sprinkled with the enchantment of fairy dust? Why do some people, places or things touch our hearts in a way that is utterly ethereal, inexplicable and mystifying?

What causes this heart connection?

It could be anything or anytime or anyplace when this connection occurs. You’re watching one of those ubiquitous television programs like America or England or Japan’s Got Talent and some awkward kid comes on stage and starts singing like an angel. At that moment, we’re touched by the kind of grace that only The Divine can deliver. Not only is our heart affected, but our spirit as well. Our emotions are fully engaged. Quite simply, we feel like better people for the privilege of witnessing this singular moment in time. We know intuitively that we are part of something much grander than ourselves.

We are all breathing in tune to the Heartbeat of Oneness. This is the transcendent flash. Our knowing. The sudden awareness that our prosaic humanness is also magnificently divine. We get a glimpse into the soul of another. And what an honor this is.

You can’t force or manipulate these things either. You can’t define them. Direct, determine or describe. There are no words that are truly adequate. Impossible to articulate, communicate or enunciate. For if you could, then the magic would turn to vapor and disappear. There would be no fairy dust.

For this is the beautiful inherent intangible, the essential enigma, the precious paradox.

Diaries of The Breadman’s Daughter: Be Honest.

July 22, 2015 / boo king / Leave a comment

Girl Warrior. Be honest. Speak up. Speak out. Speak your truth. Express yourself. Whatever that means to you. However that looks. Tell it like it is. Or how you wish it was. Be bold. Audacious in your speech. Intrepid with your message.

But don’t use your words to slaughter. Use your words to empower. Elucidate. Illuminate. Exalt. Demystify. Take ownership of what comes out of your mouth.

Make it good.

Diaries of The Breadman’s Daughter: Eat Well and Wise.

July 12, 2015 / boo king / Leave a comment

Girl Warrior. Learn how to cook for yourself and the ones you love. Keep it simple. Get fresh with food. Know its origins. Get the back-story on your fruits and veggies. Do your homework. Read labels. As much as possible, eat the things of the earth and near to their natural state.

Be creative in the kitchen. Don’t be afraid to experiment. Get colorful and crazy. Explore what titillates and tantalizes your taste buds. Make it pretty.

You don’t have to be a Food Fanatic either. Nor a Nutrition Nazi. Make ‘everything in moderation’ your mantra. Think balance. Nurture your body and your spirit. Apply the 80/20 Rule here. 80% healthy and 20% not-so-much. Enjoy your guilty pleasures and sweet indulgences with 100% freedom. Without regret or ruefulness.

Whet your appetite. Savor it all. Go for the gusto. And eat like your life depends on it.

Diaries of The Breadman’s Daughter: Look What They’ve Done to my Song, Ma.

June 29, 2015 / boo king / 1 Comment

I don’t know what it feels like to be a woman. Crazy I know. But the truth is, I really only know what it feels like to be me. And to make matters even more ambiguous, I only know what it feels like to be me at this very moment. Like most people, I’ve been changing since the day I was born. Physically. Emotionally. Spiritually. Intellectually. In every conceivable way, I’ve changed. And so have my feelings and perceptions of myself. Ergo, the only “me” I really know is the one right here, right now, typing these words.

Lately I’ve been thinking about gender fluidity, a term I must admit I’d never heard of, until I read this bit online about Miley Cyrus, where she said that she was gender fluid. Although I’m not entirely clear on what this means, something about it resonated with me. I know, more crazy talk. Me? Miley? Worlds apart, right?

And then I watched one of her Backyard Sessions with Melanie Safka and thought maybe we aren’t all that different. Maybe no one is. Is it possible that human beings, from all different walks of life, have more in common than not? And that we all defy being defined, limited and restricted?

The pair was performing an old tune of Melanie’s, and one of my all-time favorites, called Look What They’ve Done to My Song, Ma. And in that moment, I was charmed. I had loved Melanie back in the day, and truthfully I thought she was dead. But there she was, as beautiful and quirky and amazing as ever. Watching her and Miley took me back to my bedroom floor at 204. I used to lie on my back, with my head right next to the record player, with my eyes closed, and belt out this song over and over and over. I couldn’t get enough of it.

It’s funny how things go round and round. Like that song. It came to mind a few years ago when I wrote this love song for Eric for our wedding. A very talented bluegrass musician was helping me refine and polish it. He was also attempting to teach me bluegrass guitar, which was undoubtedly frustrating for both of us. And let me stop here to say, I’m not a bluegrass musician, Eric is.

During that time, when the bluegrass musician and I were working on my song, we had very different opinions on how it should sound. To him, it was bluegrass all the way. But to me, it was a sweet little folk tune with a hint of an Irish lilt in its cadence. At one point in the song-making process we were camped in completely different worlds. But in the end, Fragile Moment landed happily in the most harmonious place within my beating heart. Not my vision going in, but exceeding all expectations when it was done.

But in the beginning, I’d come home from one of our sessions and think, ‘look what he’s done to my song, Ma.’

So there’s Melanie’s song and there’s Miley’s backyard. And then there’s me, and this gender fluidity, that makes sense on some level, despite not fully understanding. But I am intrigued. In fact, so much so, that I declared to my youngest daughter the other night, that I think I’m gender fluid.

“When did this happen?” she asked sardonically. Admittedly, a very reasonable question for her to pose, especially to me, a person who has been known to utter lots of utter nonsense but nothing of this ilk. If I could have read her mind, I’m pretty sure she was thinking, ‘what the fuck mother.’

“When I stopped having my period,” I blurted.

I don’t know what made me say that. But I do know, that around the same time, Ma died, and then The Old Man did too, and then I started to feel differently about everything. Including myself. The “me” I thought was me was being whipped and refashioned by this menopausal hurricane. I’d had the first real brush with my mortality and it scared the shit out of me. The worst thing was, much of the time, I felt irrelevant, insignificant and invisible. I loathed feeling irrelevant and insignificant. My feelings were hurt. I felt unloved by the universe. But I have to say there was something incredibly liberating about feeling invisible. I was flying effortlessly under the radar and for the very first time in my life I felt free to say and do whatever I wanted, as long as it wasn’t causing harm to others or myself.

Since my period stopped I’ve started. And like Miley, I’m just me.

Backyard Sessions: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GX9A5vv-jOM

Diaries of The Breadman’s Daughter: Snapshot of Ma in the Driveway at 204.

June 27, 2015 / boo king / Leave a comment

Ma stood in the driveway waiting for her sister Hazel to come and pick her up to go shopping at Intercity. I sat in the orange plaid swivel rocker and watched her from the living room window.

The sky was clear and blue and the snow was crisp and clean. The snow banks were so high on either side of the driveway entrance that they dwarfed Ma’s already small frame. She was wearing her gray fake fur coat. I don’t know what animal it was imitating. Her purse was draped across her chest. She wasn’t wearing a hat.

While she was waiting, she traced the snow in an arc with the toe of her boot. Like a windshield wiper. Back and forth. Every now and then she would pause and look down the street for my Auntie Hazel’s car.

Her cheeks were blushed red from the cold air and her dark eyes were so bright and alive. I had to remind myself that she was well into her seventies.

I will always remember her that way. The image of her at the end of the driveway, with the winter sun shining its pure radiant light on that particular spot, in that particular solitary moment, and on that particular woman, just for me to see. To bear witness.

And in that sacred, intimate and private moment, my heart was overflowing with tenderness. And love.

Diaries of The Breadman’s Daughter: Create the Soundtrack of Your Life.

June 21, 2015May 9, 2016 / boo king / Leave a comment

Girl Warrior. Create the soundtrack for your life. You’ve got the music in you. Let it out. Wherever. Whenever. Don’t be shy about this. Or embarrassed. Don’t listen to your inner judge. The one that says you’re tone deaf. Can’t carry a tune. Or have no talent. For it’s not about that. It’s about joy and wild abandon. Glee and harmony in hard places.

It’s one of the best things you can do for your body, mind and spirit. So get musical. From your bobbing head to your tapping toes. Put a song in your heart. Let it rest easy in your soul. And flow through your veins like Tupelo Honey.

Pick up an instrument. Shake a tambourine. Beat a bongo drum. Stomp your feet. Snap your fingers. Clap your hands. Play the air guitar. Sing in the shower. Or while driving the truck. Join a choir. Or form a girls’ band. You don’t have to be a virtuoso musician. You don’t even have to be any good. In fact, you can be terrifically terrible. There are far worse things Girl Warrior.

Like dying with the music still locked inside you.

Diaries of The Breadman’s Daughter: Snapshot of Mel at Four.

June 18, 2015 / boo king / Leave a comment

Melissa sat in the brown Rubbermaid laundry hamper hugging her knees. She was wearing her over-sized blue sweatshirt with the Dalmatians on the front and purple leggings. Her feet were bare and pale.

She had pulled the hamper out of the closet and placed it in front of the television in my bedroom. Her petite body was fully contained with only her head peering out of the top like a sprung jack-in-the-box.

I don’t know if it was something she saw on TV, something someone said perhaps. I don’t recall. But she turned to me and said, with the simple unvarnished directness of a four-year old, “I believe in God.” In that moment, I saw her ancient soul. The one that had been around since the beginning of time. The wise One.

And in that holy moment, for it truly was divine, I was envious of this sweet wide-eyed child of mine. Because at four, she was so resolute and confident in this elusive thing called faith.

And I was not.