Less is More

When I checked in at the ticket counter this morning for the 9am ferry to Monhegan Island, 12 miles off the coast of Maine, the woman who handed me my roundtrip tickets inquired about my luggage. I explained that I only had the backpack, and that most of the stuff in it was camera equipment and I wished to keep it with me for safekeeping. 

"Wow!" she exclaimed. "You're here for the whole weekend and that's your only bag? I'm impressed!"

"Yup," I beamed with pride. 

"I've seen overnighters come with steamer trunks," she laughed.

I thought long and hard about what and how to pack for these 2-1/2 days on a pedestrian-only island. I started by paring down the contents of my camera bag, choosing my lenses and accessories carefully. In my roller suitcase, I packed a pair of jeans, sandals, four tops, toiletries, my beloved laptop, journal and a novel. 

However, I grew concerned reading some of the literature describing the crossing and the island terrain. The word "hills" came up several times. Intuitively, I knew flip-flops weren't going to cut it, so I purchased an inexpensive pair of yellow Topsider sneakers at my local consignment shop. I had time and opportunity on Friday night to consider my options as I was staying in a quaint cottage about a mile from the parking area. Did I really want to drag my roller suitcase behind me from the parking lot to the dock and then from the dock to my Airbnb? 

I decided to splay out the contents of the roller bag on one of the double beds in the cabin, and in doing so, I opted to consolidate. Ever-present in my mind was the burning question: "How much do I really need this item?" 

So, in addition to my two camera bodies and 1/2-dozen interchangeable lenses, here's what I selected: my laptop, my hotspot, my charging cables, my journal, my comb, my toothbrush/paste, meds, one sleeveless top and a lightweight hoodie. I left behind the current book I've almost finished reading, shampoo, a pair of jeans, flip-flops and all the extra tops.

Was the pack on my back heavier? Well, yeah, because I added my laptop to the mix, but I'm grateful that my minimalism kicked in, allowing me to lighten my load on this very hilly island paradise.

A Nonet

( The nonet is an awesome 9-line poem whose syllables trickle down in descending order until they are done. The first line has nine syllables and the last line has one.)

It's a mystery still when and why

an entire clan disappeared

into thin air as they say. 

Here today, gone 'morrow.

Contents still in tact.

Clothes, dishes, and

One long lost

baby

gone.

Hotel Adler

Rispetto is a short poetic form of Italian origin comprising of 11 syllables per line. 

It has 8 lines. Rispetto uses the ababccdd rhyme scheme. 

However, you can apply other variations of the rhyme scheme.

Room service cancelled, the switchboard long silenced.

Sulfur baths, live theatre, history condemned.

Vanderbilts, Renssaelaers, there for the finest.

Five splendored stories, an Adirondack gem.

Now a repository for mold and mice,

An investor comes looking to roll the dice.  

Defaced with graffiti, vandals with no clue.

Time has come calling, extracting her cruel due. 

Cinquain

("Cinq" refers to the number five in French suggesting the properties of this type of poem. The cinquain consists of one stanza with five lines. The first line has two syllables and so does the last line. The following lines have even number of syllables by adding 2 more syllables as you go. Therefore, the second line has 4, the third has 6 and the fourth has 8 syllables. How fun is this?)

A boy 

kneels, bows his head,

turns away from my lens.

Tears fall in boots vacated in

battle. 

Treasure

"The cave you fear to enter holds the treasure you seek." ~Joseph Campbell

What frightens you? What thoughts keep you awake at night? If earth is our schoolroom, and mastering love and banishing fear is the curriculum, what grade would you give yourself? Over the last decade and one half, I have done the hard work on self. I have excavated buried trauma and come to terms with my part in the painful memories. In short, I have become the best version of myself thus far, but make no mistake, I still have a cave to enter, to explore, to make peace with. For me that cave represents financial insecurity, but why? I own my own mortgage-free home, drive a new car without monthly car payments, live debt-free and have safe, long-term investments and holdings. Those family-of-origin tapes are difficult to silence, to mute. I was born into a lower middle class Connecticut family. My father, a roofer all his life, went off to work everyday, but at quitting time could be found throwing beers back at my uncle's bar across town. My mom often worked a factory night job to fill the gap left by my father's alcoholism. While we always had clean clothes and food on the table, I recall an ever-present sense of lack, an undulating fear. When I left home for a state college (financed by my own student loans because my parents failed to plan for my higher education), my head and heart were filled with a fierce determination to do better than my parents, and I did. I got great jobs, married, bought luxury property, and I often sent money and gifts home to my mom. When my marriage ended, I made the decision to navigate life solo, and I have remained single-by-choice. It's just me, and I am wholly responsible for my own financial health and well-being. I long ago rejected a 9-5 existence, choosing instead the life and path of a solopreneur. 

I know that cave of financial insecurity is an illusion. Financially, I have nothing to fear. It's when those demons come knocking in the middle of the night, whispering that I will run out of money before I run out of time on this planet, that my tender heart wants to seize. Instead of hiding, I can look those demons squarely in the eye, throw my head back, laugh, and say, "not today, fear!" 

 

When I saw the man's outstretched arms in Every Picture Tells a Story, I saw exuberance and excitement! This memory popped into my mind...

ALLELUIA

by Joanie Crocker-Pfeiffer

I could hardly believe what I heard that day! Could it be true? The excitement increased my heart rate, and accompanying happiness soared into the air like beautiful bubbles blown by a delighted child!   My dated Datsun bounced along route 195, as I headed home after a hard day’s work at WMYS FM where I, a woman, performed the weekday Morning Show since 1980.  That in itself was a miracle, as only the other gender was ever hired to handle that prized spot in radio. And now two and a half years later, I had been informed there was a strong possibility I’d also be offered the coveted Program Director’s job as well.  Alleluia!    

I can still picture me in that Datsun driving along with this thrilling possibility sprinting around in my head!  Intense exhilaration lifted my spirits and danced beside me all the way home!  You might wonder, what was the big deal?  In 1974 I had been in the right place at the right time ambling down the hallway one day at WJAR TV-Radio when the General Manager of the radio station inquired, “We have a part-time opening for a music personality.  Interested?” My speechless inner voice did cartwheels while trying to avoid a boxing match with fear.  Finally, cool me lied, “Let me think about it.”  

Thanks to the FCC who was putting pressure on media to hire women, that first offer came and I accepted.  My muse was ready!  I was determined to succeed in spite of negativity expressed by a few male peers, in spite of being blackballed by the CEO of a broadcasting company, in spite of my own ‘me, too’ experiences.  My supervisor even let me know, “I don’t believe women should be on the air, but if we have to have you, you’re going to be good!”  With robust effort, four years and three radio stations later, resolute me landed the plumb morning job on a 50,000-watt FM in a medium market station—a big deal in those days!  And I was the market’s only woman!

In addition to my on-air job, was I offered the Program Director’s job?  You bet I was!  And did I do a good job?  Oh, yes, I did, and I kept it going for seven more fruitful years until it was time to move on again!!!  Though now long ago, that memory of exuberance and excitement heading home in my Datsun that day brings comfort and a warm smile and glow.

Good News

 Overwhelmed India running short of COVID-19 vaccines.

Rare chunks of Earth's mantle found exposed in Maryland. 

Dozens killed amid chaos at religious festival in Israel.

These were the headlines I read when I signed on to receive my email on the last Friday in April. If those messages weren't enough to sink my tender, open heart, a pop-up warning appeared, uninvited, on my laptop screen.

Every 2 seconds someone new becomes a victim of identity theft. Don't be next.

Fear. Destruction. Chaos. Geez, Louise, the whole world has, indeed, gone mad. I have a split second to respond to the toxicity of today's headlines, and so do you. Be honest, do you devour the blow-by-blow details? Do you bristle at my implication? If you are giving extended attention to these headlines, you are participating in the darkness, the madness. News is a big industry; it can't exist without your participation.

I get it. Shit happens. Good people become victims of random violence, but do you really need to read about, and watch, another vehicle, in the same week, plow into innocent bystanders? Here's what I fervently believe. We invite, absorb, and become what we put our attention on, and every minute counts. Do not waste a single one of your life's precise moments focusing on negativity. Have you ever had a strand of hair land on an exposed layer of your skin? You can feel it, right? A thin, lightweight piece of hair. Imagine that. Imagine then what dark and negative thoughts can do to you at a cellular level. Food for thought. (Check out medical intuitive, Caroline Myss, if you don't believe me.) What images, messages, and thoughts do you want your body, your cells, to absorb?

Choose the newsmakers who are genuinely making a difference. GoodNewsNetwork.org shared these headlines this morning.

Artist takes twigs and turns them into dancing figures.

Twitter swoons over Biden's romantic gesture.

19 of the most gorgeous small towns on Earth.

These are some of the people and issues worthy of making headlines, and the more you focus on them, the more of them you will see. Dig deeper. Your body and world will thank you.