Too Many Blueberries

Breakfast is something I should pay more attention to, nutritionally speaking, and sometimes I do but often I don’t. Today was a good breakfast morning. Shredded wheat, organic milk, blueberries and Splenda. If I was really a purist I would have used Stevia, made from the all-natural Stevia plant I’m guessing, but I digress. As I was assembling the morning fare, I snapped open a plastic container of blueberries and to my dismay, discovered that more than half of them had wilted like a prom corsage at midnight. “Why do I do this?” I admonished myself. When I bought the extra large box I had just read an article saying that blueberries - as well as a host of colorful fruits and veggies - contained antioxidants, and that I needed them for reasons I can no longer recall.

A few weeks ago, I hired a handy man for some long overdue repairs. He did such a bang up job I brought him back for an encore. He’s been here so often now that I started calling him Eldon…you remember, the painter from TV’s Murphy Brown that never left? Anyway, Eldon installed some new shelving which required me to clean the closet out beforehand. I’m rather proud of myself because the “toss” pile was twice the size of the “keep” pile, but that’s not really good news. Among the casualties were a bread machine, an inflatable exercise ball, family tree software, a multi-level marketing, guaranteed-to-make-you-rich self starter kit, and a shiatsu foot massager. More ashes of good intentions.

There’s a term for this now. It’s called ADD – Attention Deficit Disorder. You can’t imagine my relief when the professionals gave me a reason for having the attention span of a nat. When I was in school, teachers labeled me as a day dreamer. I’d often stare out the window instead of working on math problems because the numbers weren’t all that interesting to me. Then I was placed in the slow group because I had difficulty focusing on the tasks at hand, like making relief maps and memorizing presidents. For the life of me, I couldn’t understand why I should spend time learning state capitals instead of doing what I was born to do. Become a star.

I loved performing. I would write the plays, create the scenery, design the costumes, sell the tickets to neighborhood moms and take the leading role. I was an entrepreneurial whiz kid; writer, creative director, marketing expert, star and even philanthropist - the quarters I collected went to charity. Never once did I lose focus. I was driven with a passion to achieve my goals, keep my eye on the prize, and nothing could distract me.

Here’s where I’m going with this. Nothing since then has changed. The times I’ve been derailed in my life are the times I’ve followed someone else’s dream. Parents, family, friends, teachers, bosses – influenced by their own dreams and occasional infomercials – have tried to steer me into what they believed was best for me and often they succeeded. It never lasted though. There would always come a time when I would fail or lose interest or quit. Those are the times I easily fell prey to definitions, clinical or otherwise, of who I am, believing I was somehow flawed. On the other hand, when I follow my bliss I experience my greatest successes. Spending time doing the things I love like writing and interior design and working with non-profits – echoes of childhood dreams – produces a magical cure. Not even a whimper of dysfunction.

Wow, all this insight from two quarts of breakfast blueberries. Who knew? I think I’ll do lunch with the tomatoes.

A new beginning

It was suggested to me years ago that if I wanted to write a book, I should keep a diary. That worked for, say, a week but then I would forget to carry around the little spiral journal with red tulips on the cover and wound up journaling on the back of junk mail and envelopes and anything I'd forgotten to take out of my purse. After a while my collective diary looked a lot like my life. Scraps of well intentioned words.

Today is a new beginning. I have a blog. A public forum for an audience of one. But hey, I'm doing it. I'm writing. An author at last. And I'd like to say this to my imaginary audience...you can do it too! Whatever it is you're dreaming of, pick up the pen or the guitar or the paint brush and make your best effort. It doesn't have to be big and there's no grand prize at stake. Here's the best part of all - you can't fail. You can choose to do something that doesn't work but oh well. Choose again. Infinite possiblities await and a broken dream inherently contains shards of new possibilities. So let's get on with it, you and I. Like Glenda the Good Witch said to Dorothy..."you've had it all along."