Pondering the Meaning of #Success
inspiration
I wear your shoes
We had pulled over and began hiking a random hill in Eureka Springs Arkansas. I thought we were going for a leisurely drive so I was not dressed for such an occasion; nonetheless I followed the others up the hill. I slipped and giggled, the sound caught my son’s attention. His eyes scanned me quickly. Seeing I was unharmed he shook his head and smiled.
“Are you wearing Mamaw’s shoes?” he asked. I nodded and laughed, brushing away the dirt and leaves before wriggling my foot back into the loafer.
“You should write about that.” He said, resuming his sure footed trek.
He did not need to say more, we both understood.
I wear your shoes
I have your purse …
Filled with scraps of paper –
Scribblings of ancient phone numbers,
and a message from me, the old me.
I have your wallet –
Your social security card,
a useless driver’s license,
a few crinkled one dollar bills
and a handful of change.
I have your letters –
A few anyway,
Written to daddy
Unstamped envelopes with no address
Because there is no zip code
for the dead.
I wear your shoes –
Black loafers with a silver buckle
They fit my feet comfortably
But they pinch my heart
The sole, too thick with patience
and forgiveness and tolerance
Slows my step and weighs me down
The pain of the soft ebony leather
is almost more than I can bear
I place one foot in front of the other
and wonder…
Will this mile ever end?
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Taken from the poetic memoir Getting Me back (The Voices Within). Those are the actual shoes written about in the photo above.
Tomorrow morning, Sunday May 14th, I will share a [more upbeat] Mother’s Day gift with my followers (please share it with yours), in the afternoon I will happily celebrate the day with my children (I hope you spend the day with yours), Sunday night I will cry myself to sleep knowing that next Sunday May 21st marks the fourth year of her passing. 
Monday I will blow my nose, find something to laugh about and get busy living because that is how it should be.
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Sometimes Truth Is Stranger than Fiction
Once upon a time, a long, long time ago I worked as a nurse. 
My daughter (on the left) is a nurse and many of my friends and family are still working in the field of nursing.
I could write forever about the combined experiences of a nursing career. As a matter of fact a few of those experiences fueled scenes in the fictional Clan Destiny series where the main characters (Clara, Linda and Maggie) are nurses. Mary Latrull (another fictional character) likes to pretend she is a nurse and would probably be a good one except –
Oops. I veered off track.
I mention the series now because this is National Nurses Week.
Happy Nurses week comrades, family and friends!
Oh poo, let me ramble off road for a minute and we’ll make this one of Tuesday’s Tell All.
Thinking on the series: when the books stood alone, before they were renamed the Clan Destiny series and before the reviews disappeared from Amazon I had a few comments that the stories were too “far-fetched” and unbelievable. Yeah, nurses with paranormal abilities. Ha! I’m not sorry, that is why I called it fic-shun.
A handful of people (mostly “nurses”) suggested the medical terminology and/or procedures were incorrect. I know it was wrong but I had to call those to attention. Why? Because I kept “procedural” scenes to a minimum for lay reasons and if practice or terminology has changed that much in the last few years I honestly wanted to know. But nope…
The real thing ‘said nurses’ took issue with was the (occasional) disrespect and unprofessional behavior that I portrayed. The strange thing is those scenes were all too real. Allow me to share.
Examples:
In book one Maggie curses a bit, insults a doctor and she and Clara have a confrontation, nearly coming to blows while on duty. One ‘said nurse’ says, “#1 no nurse would talk to a doctor like that and #2 Cursing and fighting on duty like hoodlums would never happen.” Truth? It happens. Been there, done that. Nursing is a stressful profession and nurses are human, sometimes we act stupid.
In book two Mary (as a patient) leaves the hospital against medical advice without signing the proper forms. Another ‘said nurse’ says, “A patient would not be allowed to leave without signing the necessary documents.” I laughed myself silly. Truth? I have chased more than my share of irate, deranged and determined absconders while pleading with them “just sign this and you can go.” Hospitals, clinics and care centers are not prisons; you cannot hold someone against their will and you cannot make them sign a form to c.y.[own]a. (cover your [own] a**)
In book three Maggie, Linda and Clara laugh (in private) and refer to a patient, Mr. Stenchman, as Mean-as Stinky man or Mean-ass Stinky pants. An offended ‘said nurse’ says, “You should not depict nurses in such an unprofessional and unflattering way.” Truth? Sometimes we are unprofessional and ugly and sometimes the patient is a mean-ass stinky man.
I could rattle on about sordid affairs, fist fights, missing bodies/body parts, resurrections, insurance/benefit/patient abuse, medicare fraud and more but I won’t. Not today.
Yes, sometimes truth is stranger than fiction.
I may write a true tell-all one day but until then I’ll keep changing the names to protect the guilty, add a little ‘what if’ and focus on the fictitious person – not the true profession.
For all of you nurses [with or without imperfections] keep being the best that you can be. Thanks for shoving your own sh*t aside for 8 to 16 hours a day and caring even when it seems like you don’t.
Happy Nurses Week!
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From Getting Me Back (A Poem & A Picture by Me & of Me)
I cannot count the number of trips taken in that old station-wagon, but I do recall the passengers (nine, twelve and sometimes fifteen) packed liked sardines in a can; damp and smelly and filled with anticipation.
…
Looking back: It is like sitting in the third row seat of an old station wagon, staring ahead at the road behind you…
It is not enough to sit in the front seat and see where you were going – you didn’t know anyway. To understand how you got here you have to look at where you have been.
In that third row seat facing backwards you might be tempted to stare at the floorboard or the marks on your shoes or the stripes on the asphalt that never seem to end, but don’t. To understand you must look up, look back and accept the scenery for what it was.
When the pain and fury and fear rise up — remember it is only a hill in the distance, you have already passed over. That queasy feeling in your stomach is no more than a sour memory.
…
I speak as if caressing scars and lament but what of the scars I have inflicted? Do I grieve for them? The answer is yes; indubitably yes.
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Reminder: This is the last day Getting Me Back (The Voices Within) will be FREE (April 18th through the 21st). It is also the last “A Poem & A Picture by Me & of Me” for this year’s NPM. You can do your happy dance now. 😉
Oh, and Clan Destiny (Unjustified Favor) Book 3 in the series is your complimentary title for April 21st -23rd. Have a super-fantastic read filled weekend and I’ll see you next week.
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Write Your Own II (A Poem & A Picture)
This post was intended as part of Wordless Wednesday but I have to say this. I do not/did not expect a public response but in last weeks Write Your Own (A Poem & A Picture) Sarah replied with a beautiful piece blending the poem and the picture. I must say it was a very pleasant surprise. I understand many of us are timid about publicizing our words/thoughts; potentially exposing ourselves to ridicule but if any of you would like to make your take of the photo in the reply section I would love to read it.
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Write Your Own (A Poem & A Picture)
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Tree Art (Wordless Wednesday)
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Bat-Shit Crazy & Indie Update
Can you believe it has been 4 years since I posted The First Year as an Indie (Lessons Learned)?
So much has changed… yet stayed the same.
I have created new works and destroyed old ones.
I have watched literary markets as well as loved ones come and go.
I pretty much left the ‘pertinent’ social media scenes. Why? For a few reasons, just pick one or make one up – that’s always fun.
New authors have asked, “Did decreasing media presence hurt book sales?”
My answer: “Laws yes! But you know what? I still do not give a flying rat’s fanny.”
I am sorry if that’s not the ‘right’ answer but it is my answer… my truth. That is the beauty of being an independent author.
Another truth is I was in “an unhealthy state of dealing with stress” – that is a sophisticated way of saying I was “bat-shit crazy in the midst of a nervous breakdown.”
Social media [as well as life] was becoming a struggle to keep up with; it was also getting in the way of Getting Me Back.
Getting Me Back (The Voices Within) is scheduled to release March 31st, it is available for pre-order now. Go ahead and order it so you will have it in time for NPM (National Poetry Month)
If you have never had a nervous breakdown, I would not recommend embarking on that journey.
If you want a peek at what my journey was/is like, I’d recommend reading Getting Me Back.
If you are currently bat-shit crazy in the midst of a nervous breakdown definitely get some help and read Getting Me Back. Hey, we can journey together.
P.S. Happy Saint Patrick’s Day
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A Pilgrims Prayer (Revisited)
Another November is nearly at end and another Thanksgiving is upon us.
And, another revisiting of A Pilgrims Prayer. (Slightly revised from previous version)
A Pilgrim’s Prayer
Once upon a time a long, a long time ago (before Black Friday) Thanksgiving was a celebration of harvest and a time to give thanks.
Those early pilgrims did not have the conveniences we enjoy today, yet somehow they survived.
I didn’t really know any of those pilgrims but I did see a John Wayne movie once. John knew a pilgrim when he saw one. He seemed to know a lot of pilgrims but that was a long time ago too.
I propose we are all pilgrims, each one of us on a journey of sorts; our own personal pilgrimage, if you will.
We are all looking for something. Be it a quest for self-confirmation, truth, a cure, enrichment, enlightenment, comfort, a friend, a lover, a job, a meal, or a place to lay our weary head at the end of another day.
I believe life is a journey, or at least it should be. It would be terrible to think we were just flailing through this experience, killing time on this giant floating gumball, while waiting for the next Black Friday specials.
I believe we all have one destination, though we travel many different roads and I trust that we have choices.
Hopefully we will choose well. On the occasion we take a wrong turn [and we will] I pray we have enough sense and humility to stop and seek direction, to reassess our route and to be considerate in our voyage.
So here’s wishing all of you pilgrims a Happy Thanksgiving and may we all, whatever road we’re on, take time to look ahead, pause, and meditate on the many things we have to be grateful for, put aside our grievances and give thanks.
My personal prayer:
I pray our good seeds of hope, humility, toil and courage produce abundantly; that love and kindness grow wild like the weeds of early spring – fruitful and undeterred. And your harvest be rich with wisdom and discernment.
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Future Poets
Adding to our poets of the future, laureates in waiting, aka not yet notorious composers today I present to you Typhanie Tijerina- Hill. No we are not related as far as I know but if she were to win a Pulitzer or become a future Poet Laureate that might change.
Typhanie is currently a student at the University of Texas at Tyler studying Chinese, Literature and History.
Prior to UT she attended Trinity Valley Community College where she studied theater, literature and history.
Typhanie is also a wife and a mother. Anyone who has juggled such roles knows the hardships and the rewards. It takes an iron will and an artist’s heart and that is a kick- *ss combination.
I chose A Willow Among the Maple because (for me) it reflects humility and strength… Coming to terms with who we are and accepting our limitations without conceding defeat.
A Willow Among the Maple
By Typhanie Tijerina-Hill
I am a willow among the Maple
I weep while they pour out syrup so sweet
I am droopy and they are strong
I fight for survival while they grow with ease
My roots are planted deep
But are small compared to their large core
They hover over me mocking my fragile limbs
I know I will never be as big as the maple
But I don’t have to be
***
I really, really liked this poem because it left me nodding my head and thinking…
Sometimes it’s like reaching for the stars on a cloudy night. But if we keep reaching, groping into the unseen – maybe one night the clouds will pass and maybe, just maybe we will find a star in our hand. Perhaps not the biggest or the brightest star – but it will be the best star because this one will have our name on it.
Yes, I wax poetic on occasion.
The Real Janna Hill in 