writing

My cat is putting himself “to sleep”

By |2024-02-09T16:32:26-08:00Jul. 18, 2011|

My cat is dying today. In the midst of so much other craziness—in my little world and the great wide one—the death of this dear friend of 17 years is suddenly all that matters. He and his demise have my full attention. I say that, yet I sit inside writing while he lies outside, where I cannot see him from here. On this most perfect July Sunday, I check on him, I touch him, I weep. Then I come inside to tell his story, while he expires, muddy and unable to arise or clean himself, at the damp grassy edge of our backyard stream. I am here and he is there, drawing what must be his last, very gentle several hundred breaths. He wants to be alone. It is how it needs to be.…

Suzanne vs. a virtual tsunami (or to tweet or not to tweet…)

By |2024-02-09T16:39:25-08:00Jun. 6, 2011|

So here’s one of those weird, hard book-related things I said I’d talk about: I’ve been drowning in a sea of way too much information about social media marketing. It’s all the rage, of course, to use Facebook, Twitter & friends to hawk whatever you’re selling to your ideal market. And it’s all the rage for the slew of folks who say they can help you hawk to be hawking there too.

It’s all the rage, yet I’m enraged by the virtual flood I invited and didn’t dare call a halt to. I didn’t dare because it’s way past time, they tell me, to let people know about my wares—the book that’s almost ready to head for the printer. That’s the book that hasn’t been touted via fan page or tweet. A book by that soon-to-be-author who’s not gotten around to getting on board. But here’s the scary thing: it seems I don’t want to get on board, not in the usual way anyway.…

Finding my outrageous voice

By |2024-02-09T16:41:34-08:00May. 23, 2011|

Thank you, dear reader, for showing up at my new Monday morning health practice. Granted, it’s not as calorie-burning or heart-strengthening as jogging—blogging. But if I let it, this start-of-the-week writing ritual will connect me with myself, and with you, at the level of heart. These words I write can strengthen that beautiful blood-red muscle at the core of both of our beings. And it is the core of ourselves, our deepest values, greatest fears, and most precious desires, that interests me above all else. Who are we? Why the hell are we here? And what are we going to do to make a difference?…

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