Tina Time

3/21/06

So, Italy, so glad you asked! My husband Keith and I celebrated our 25th anniversary with a fabulous trip to Venice, Florence and Rome last October. In spite of the fact that I have told the stories over and over, retelling simply takes me back and leaves me with the pure joy the trip was and through memories still is. First of all, how can you expect to have anything but a great time when the only thing on your agenda each day is what beautiful or interesting thing you will do that day. There are no phone calls, you are not expected to be anyplace at any specific time, except perhaps to catch a tour, on your way to learn more about one of those beautiful, interesting things. Vacation in general is a pretty great thing, but this one was right in so many ways.

Before we had decided on exactly where we were going to go for our anniversary, I mentioned to Keith that while I didn't want to spend our whole trip in St. Louis, I would not mind stopping there on our way to wherever we might go to see one of the last games played in Busch Stadium. It turned out, he had already bought the tickets to the last two games of the season and was going to surprise me. The first night of our trip, at Busch stadium, my favorite Cardinal player, Albert Puhols, hit a grand slam and led the Cardinals to their 98th victory of the season. I knew right then and there it was going to be a great trip!

We left for Italy on Sunday morning, a long flight in coach, but we were so excited on setting out on our 2 week trip that it seemed to pass quickly. We changed planes in London and enjoyed just listening to the lovely accents all around us. It was amazing to see the differences, even in England. We flew on a small plane to Venice and landed in pouring down rain. We were both dressed in summer clothes, having left from Dallas and 90 degree weather, and it was cold and wet. We followed the crowd from our plane to the baggage carousel, cold and wet, watching the other multi national passengers as we all waited for our luggage. There were Middle Eastern men, African men, European women dressed like they had stepped off the front page of vogue. And the shoes!

Anyway, we waited as one by one the crowd left with their luggage until it became apparent that ours was not on the belt. It seems that it was delayed in London and the lady at the customer service counter gave us a print out with a claim number and said the luggage would arrive on the next flight and would be at our hotel that evening. We found our shuttle driver and watched the rain continue to pour, much to our dismay, as he sped through traffic with no concern for the large buses, other cars and large puddles of standing water, the whole time he was turned around talking to us in his beautifully accented English. He was funny and we watched out the windows, eager to soak in every detail of this all new world. I couldn't wait to get a glimpse of my first canal.

Our hotel was small, 37 rooms, and decorated in European Victorian with hand painted furniture, large sculptured ceilings, blue and gold striped floor to ceiling drapes. It was all charm, complete with haughty concierge and mud brown coffee. We got to our room, but of course had no bags to unpack, so after we oohed and ahhed, we decided to take a nap and wait for our luggage. the room was on the second floor and the windows looked out over a small canal. We found that the windows had large wooden shutters that when closed, made the room as dark as night.

We woke up around 8pm (we had been up since early the morning before) to find no luggage had arrived and calls to the phone number on the claim check yielded a voice message in Italian. Though our quaint little hotel had a small bar and served breakfast, it did not have a restaurant inside, so we asked the desk clerk about where we could eat. She told us there were no good restaurants close by, but as we were still wearing our shorts and Hawaiian shirts, we opted to stay close to the hotel. Ins spite of the warning from the hotel clerk, we found a cute little restaurant down the street and ordered our first Italian mean, including wine to help us warm up. The waiter was charming though he spoke little English, but by pointing to the menu, we were able to order and enjoy a delicious meal. Once again we enjoyed the accents of a German family next to us and several Italian couples having dinner. We took our time, laughed about the luggage and finally finished and headed back to the hotel. (Stay tuned for more later!) Our day in Venice, Florence, Rome and Naples.

3/15/06

I am always brilliant, during the day while I am walking up the stairs at work, in the car. Topics, ideas, words role along in a really superior way. And then, the day winds down, I sit down at the blog to put some of that brilliance on paper and cannot recall a word. The Big Blank Page does indeed, loom daunting, an awesome responsibility, an incredible opportunity, an open invitation. This is where the real work starts, the thinking work. Structuring an idea and following it through to the depth and breadth of a fully developed thought. But then, sadly, I sit and look at the blank page and try to think of something worth saying.

3/19/06

It has occurred to me that the next step to master is discipline. This is the difference between achieving your dreams and dreaming your dreams. This is the middle of the process, the tedious part. Once the excitement of making a decision and announcing it is over, the friends and family have all gone back to their lives, the spotlight is off, you (I) have made my intentions known. It is before any of the benefits of achieving the goals I have set for myself are available. It is the time where the consequences of not doing something each day is practically non-existent. (I set a goal for myself to do at least one thing a day related to my plan, no matter how small. I am fairly, though not perfectly successful at this approach so far, but doing much better than if I had set no goal).

Though I seem to be stuck on the idea of not knowing what to say, on circumspect, I don't think it is the real issue. Truth be told, I speak with people every day and offer insight and observations as asked. I honestly do believe that the things I believe and the basis of the reason I believe I am destined for a larger voice is the universal acceptance and encouragement my words and ideas have received.

It is not the content that is proving illusive, it is the discipline to open the computer and focus my thoughts. I started out by committing to blog every day. This, as you can see, has slipped a bit as I allow the shopping, cleaning, kids, work, volunteer, friend world, translated as my life, occupy my time and energy.

There is just no doubt that this is an obstacle that must be overcome if I am ever move to the point of engaging in my dreams instead of just dreaming them. And on close examination, the real question is: is it the time, the energy, the ability (or lack of), the interest, or fear that causes the reticence or simple lack of following through.

This is a somewhat painful question, as I expose my inner struggles, since the answer may reveal some less than proud admissions. Success comes to those who figure out the answer to this question and then do what needs to be done anyway. Those of us who spend too much time dwelling, stewing, fretting, choose your own method, but spend our time and energies finding excuses or explanations or understanding are standing still trying to figure out or justify our past behavior. But the net result, no matter what the answer, is that we are not doing the things we know for a fact are the things that need to be done to make our dreams reality.

Not one second, in this questing mode, is spent looking for a way to change or move forward or achieve. All of us who are on a path to a goal know what needs to be done to get us there. We are not questing to understand what the right move, that’s obvious: make more calls, write more poems, get more customers, sell more ideas. We know what to do. It’s just the doing it, in spite of being tired after having worked a full day, attended an extra curricular meeting, cleaning the kitchen after dinner checking homework for tomorrow. All good reasons for being tired, no doubt. But, still not getting the job done.

So where does that “extra energy” come from? Woody Allen said, “80% of success is just showing up”! Doing something poorly, or doing it when you are not always fresh and eager may not seem worth the effort. But the difference between doing it less perfectly than you would like and not doing it at all is everything compared to the difference between the less than spectacular performance and the perfect.

Nike captured this as succinctly as is possible, “Just Do It!” If it’s important, if next year you want to be somewhere different than you are today, if, when you look in the mirror you want to be able to say “I did it” instead of “ I didn’t do it because…….”. Just do it! Even if you’re tired. Even when you don’t want to. Even when you’re sure it might not be time well spent. Focus on the goal. While you are in that moment of decision, ask yourself: am I going to turn on the TV or am I going to move a little closer to my dream? See the end result of attaining your vision and ask yourself, as you are acknowledging how tired you are, how much of your energy has already been expended, how much you have already had to do that day, and ask yourself where you want to be next year at this time: on your way to achieving that dream, or being exactly where you are today, still just thinking about the dream.

Show up and see how short the path from there really is.

I have to go write a poem!

3/14/06

So, here we are, I have said to the world, "I have something to say". I set up the forum, and now what? I stare at this very blank page, with the entire universe of topics to explore and realize that this is where the work begins. Its so easy to dream in the big picture, to see yourself living the life you dream, accepting the rewards and accolades and benefits of the realization of the dream. You may even be able to envision the work itself, in a romantic and not too specific way. But here we are, where the pavement meets the road, as they say...go ahead....create....be clever....it seems so easy in verse. Half the fun of verse is organizing the words in a non traditional way that offers a certain licence and lightness to the words. Prose seems so serious, so important.

I think about what it means to inspire....inspire what?....Dr. Wayne (one of my personal hero’s) Dyer says inspire means "in spirit". I have been trying to figure out what inspires me, and what does it mean, to say, "I am inspired?" I associate it with a feeling of wanting more, feeling excited about doing something new, feeling both a confidence and an enthusiasm about tackling that next great challenge or that pesky daunting task. And I'm not talking about the bribery or reward system we sometimes use to coax responsible or performance setting behavior from ourselves. More, inspiration is about the reaching into the core of our being and touching that place that holds the precious answer to "what is my passion? what is my purpose?" When anything you read, or hear or feel or just know causes you to look for that place, to begin to search for it, to recognize or acknowledge it, or most importantly, to act on it that is to feel inspired.

So to even say the words aloud (or, in print) that it is my goal to inspire, that more than anything in the world I want to be an inspirational speaker, is to presume a place I am not quite sure I am qualified to command. My very small self whispers, who am I to dream this huge dream? to assume this large voice? The fear forces doubts and questions, uncertainty and lack of confidence. How can I see and feel this "burning desire" or a very clear vision and yet not have the confidence to go for it.

And yet, there are the assurances of family and friends; that they have been touched and inspired. There is the undeniable ability to articulate thought in a way that helps translates complex or confusing ideas. (I know that is a bit of a pat on the back, but, as a my Grandma always said, "if it's true, it aint bragging".) And this is really the ladder I find myself climbing to get out of this whole I have dug for myself. There is simply no sin in acknowledging one's gifts and having the expectation and satisfaction of using those gifts to the utmost for the benefit of all and any.

Especially when doing so makes you giddily, inexorably, undeniably, goofily, crazily happy............


There once was a girl who loved rhymes
In the best and the worst of the times
So she honored this knack
And acknowledged no lack
Writing love into each of her lines

Since she knew what she needed to do
The obstacles she faced were quite few
Kept her eyes on the goal
Work well anchored in soul
Somehow knew that her dreams would come true

For the folks who supported her art
Left her humbled and grateful of heart
As she grasped the connection
Found in the reflection
Of Spirit’s grace eagerly sought



Spirit's grace eagerly sought......now that's a line! You have no idea how l struggled over the last line of this little limerick. Traditioally, the last line in any poem is the most powerful and important one. It carries the message you are trying to impart. And, I care about the sound of the words and the feelings they impose. This started out as something silly and then, halfway through, started to become important to me. By the end, I needed it to say what I felt, but I could not seem to make it fit or work. The rest of it had just flowed, but the last line was proving a bear! I really did not want to change the rhyme in the first two lines (of the last stanza). So I turned off the TV and covered my face, cleared my head and asked for some help.......Of Spirit's grace eagerly sought was my gift.