I’m all about changing the words we use, the way we use them, and why we use them the way we do.
Words like Menopause or Prostitute. I think the word should be Femining and the other word really means Sex Slave Victim. And ‘John’ really means Rapist.
But that’s just me on Planet Woman.
It’s not just the words, but the questions we ask ourselves and others, and especially children, “What do you want to be when you grow up?”
Shalu Bajaj Ahuja gave us a beautiful new question to ask; “What will you want yourself to be and…
What is a Cult, really?
From Wikipedia: In modern English, a cult is a social group that is defined by its unusual religious, spiritual, or philosophical beliefs, or by its common interest in a particular personality, object, or goal.
Remove the word unusual and what do you have? Every church, college, team, business, book club, networking group… AmIRight?
But let’s not mince words. Here’s an idea: Why don’t we make our own?
During a not-so-long-ago conversation with Susan Brearley, we talked about the meaning of the word cult and how I had a desire to create one. …
We all have our dreams.
Personally, I am someone with Many Big Dreams. To be a world-famous, best-selling author, speaker, podcaster, changer of the world, and songwriter are at the top of the list.
I love a song with a story to tell. Something that comes from the writer’s soul, a tiny piece or a great big chunk set to a softly picked guitar or loud pounding drums.
I’ve got notebooks full of half begun songs, a chorus here a verse there. …
Ah, the Squatty Potty. If you’ve not experienced this modern miracle of molded plastic at the base of your throne, you are missing out. You could also be full of shit.
The updated versions now including eco-friendly materials and look more like lounge furniture in the spa instead of something you might see in your grandpa’s bathroom.
There are knock-offs too, the Tushy Ottoman says you’ll “Poop at 100%,” which actually sounds kind of scary. A couple of bad tacos from a food truck and I think we’ve all “Pooped at 100%” and then some.
West-Elm has the ooh-la-la Sloan…
Therapy. It’s an odd word. There are all kinds of definitions and ways of receiving therapy; the traditional ways of seeking a ‘Therapist’ or the natural way of connecting with nature, and a myriad of pharmaceuticals and shame mixed in between.
Probably not the best of definitions you’ve ever read, but this is my ball of wax here.
My first experience with Therapy came when I was 13. My father had died two years prior and my younger brother was doing everything he could to act out for attention, most of which manifested in physical aggression towards me. I had…
TEN YEARS AGO: I met Amanda Owen, author of The Power of Receiving. We met online through a writer’s group and discovered a few of us lived in the Phoenix area, so we all got together for lunch. Somewhere I have an actual printed picture of our group.
Meeting authors was my jam. Having turned a love of books into a business, I helped independent authors with their work. It started with reviews and hosting them as my guest on my podcast, Page Readers, and evolved into proofreading, then editing, then story development, some publishing assistance way before KDP and…
“Like a dream of a dream …,” Evelyn stood as close as she could to the base of the antique iron lamp and tilted her head back to look up into the unlit glass globe. She thought of the characters in the story of Narnia, The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe. How easy it had been for them to get lost in the adventures a similar lampost had guided them into.
In the story, the children's imagination let them leave behind their lives, the reality of a war-torn country, the fear of wondering what might happen next, by walking…
I’ve lost count of how many books I’ve read over the last 10 months as part of The Garden of Neuro Master Mind Book Club. I think I’m somewhere around #132. I might not make it to the goal of 200 by May 1st, but I’m dang proud of whatever number I land on. It will be a more than 100% improvement from the year before. Maybe all the years before.
It really wasn’t until I was about halfway through Untamed, by Glennon Doyle when the hook of the book started to take hold.
The Bay Area, Central California, Suburbia, the early 70s. My grandparents live in a modest ranch-style home with 3 bedrooms and one bathroom and a narrow front porch under a low overhang in a neighborhood of homes all nearly identical except none were the same, each painted a different color scheme, shutters or no shutters, a carport or a garage. Newspapers were delivered every morning, along with milk and eggs on Wednesdays if you’d ordered them the Sunday before. The American Dream.
They were all on nearly a quarter-acre lot. I can’t imagine what those homes go for now. I…
A Shoutout to Fingers. And Perspective.
The mother of a 7-month old wants to sit and write but knows her little bundle of joy is full of energy and will burst with exuberantly delightful noise and gratitude upon seeing her fingers.
How I would love to hear baby chatter again. My little girl is in her 20s now, the chatter is much, much different. I’d be okay if you left your mic open for a while.
She probably doesn’t feel this way, right now, in the moment of nonstop chatter and sudden noises that could break glass (or should, it’s…