Right Here. Right Now.

Is it possible to cry while running? Yes - if you swallow the ocean and breathe through the throat chakra block. The poignancy of being right here, right now on Planet Earth struck me like a cannonball this morning. I passed SO many homeless people as I ran along Santa Monica’s bluff. Then a cannon pointing to the Pacific. Revered weapon of mass destruction. The impact of its shot blasted my 3rd chakra as I passed it. What is time? I fell into a time warp, and felt its unfriendly fire. Just like at Circus Maximus in Rome, where I fell into the thunder of horses’ hooves and racing chariots. The cannonball woke me up. Such violence. Such beauty. Welcome to Planet Earth. I passed a youngish, particularly muddy, sandy-haired man sleeping on the ground. Someone had placed a full take out box of food in front of him. That’s what got me. Violence. Compassion. Beauty. Here we are, at this amazing time during the shift from former to latter. Lucky us.

A win!

Today I met with Lenny, the wonderful manager of the Mill Valley Depot Bookstore, and introduced him to Body of Work. He was delighted to take a copy to sell on consignment in the store. As a matter of fact, he said someone was asking about it the other day. Wow! Word travels fast. With luck, I'll be giving an Author Reading there . . .

On the down side, I discovered North Point Coffee in Sausalito out of business. Sad that the indy cafes are suffering so . . . It would have been a lovely place for a book launch party.

Also, at the Depot, I found out that Body of Work is not yet up in the Ingram database. Yikes! My distributor needs to fix that ASAP! Bookstores need to be able to order it.

Monday night, I visit Left Coast Writers' salon at Book Passage, to introduce my baby and network into an Author Reading there. Love that place. The buzz is growing!

Run's End

Nearly back at my car, I listened to Spirit and retraced my steps to the Haypress Camp trail; seeking the absolute stillness and quiet that’s always nestled there.

A short way up the trail I stood still. I heard a sound—soft and moist—like the exhale of quahogs under the mud, on a steamy summer day on the Westport River. Spirit felt wonder and pleasure.

Mind translated this, a heartbeat later, as a scattering of tiny raindrops plashing on the dust of the trail at my feet.

After the numbness and misery of Monster Cold, pleasure is back.

Maybe there will be enough of me back soon, to promote the book . . .

In labor for a little while longer . . .

After a snafu with UPS that almost lost the one existing proof copy of Body of Work, I located the wayward child, and set its production in motion yesterday. Hooray! Seeing my stories all neatly in book form was thrilling. This is 30 years of work, so, this little tome is precious.

Not being able to get copies until after Christmas barely dampened my spirits (Lightning Source is backlogged and one of their printers broke yesterday). No worry, I will have more time to promote BOW in January, and finally plan a book launch party. Where will it be? That is the question . . .