Brenda’s life has been really busting loose of late reminding me of Maya Angelou’s quote,“Life loves the liver of it. You must live & life will be good to you.” And as author Toni Morrison said, “the function of freedom is to free someone else.”  We do this by telling our stories, & that’s why I encouraged Brenda to tell hers. B, take it away!

Sweeping Out the Dust Bunnies to

       Grab Hold of Our Dreams



Live Life Well


Hello  & Welcome!

By replacing "No way!" with "Maybe," we open the door to mystery and to magic.



  Julia Cameron, The Artist's Way


Have you ever had a conversation where you said something and it reverberated inside of you, nagging your conscience and no amount of fly-swatting could squash its message?


I was speaking with a younger friend who was considering packing up the family and going to Italy for an extended time to unplug from life as it is here and to immerse themselves into another culture. My response, "That is awesome!  You absolutely MUST.  I am so jealous.  It's too late for me, but you should go for it."


It's too late for me?  Yep, that came out of my mouth - pretty emphatically, too.

I'm Cindy & so very delighted

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For all of my rampant positivity and my "seize the day,"  bags always packed approach to life, those words smacked me upside the head for days to come.  Did life come with a rule book that said, "Have your fun up until age 49, because after that, IT'S TOO LATE FOR YOU?"


Nope, I didn't get that memo either. Rather, it was a lie I was telling myself to remain comfortably ensconced in a level of life (a nice level, I might add) that I had grown accustomed to.


How dare I fan the flames of others' dreams and deny my own?  Pretty hypocritical, I'd say.  Especially for the gal who has THIS posted to her computer screen and wears it on a chain around her neck:



In my humble guest opinion, SPELers are dreamers.  This is why we feel so connected through this marvelous blog.  We are like-minded deep thinkers who also appreciate a good dose of silliness to keep us from drowning in the depths.  (This is also why I married a man who pretends rubber snakes are attacking him in the 5 and 10.)

But back to "It's too late for me." Sorry, Charlie.  She's not drinking that Kool-Aid anymore.  It was time for an internal overhaul; a spring cleaning of the dust bunnies lodging in my heart and soul.  Thank you, mouth, for betraying me - because paybacks are a ....well, you know what they say.


My fun first act of proving "It's NOT too late for me" was to look at my Last Will and Testament. (Hang with me; it's not as macabre as it sounds!) There were a few things I had put in there that were REALLY important to me.


Cue internal dialogue:  "Okay, Brenda.  If they are really THAT important to you, why are you waiting to die to do them? What a bummer to do something really outrageous for someone and not be able to hug it out after the gift was tendered?  Worse, what a waste for them not to know how much they meant to you until it was too late to enjoy the rest of our lives at a new level of love.”


Cue Tim McGraw's "Live Like You Were Dying" or Kris Allen's "Live Like We're Dying" or insert your favorite kind of similar song here for a soundtrack.


Oh yes, I did it.  I marched over to their office and said, "You don't know this, but I put you in my will.  But now you're not anymore, because I thought it was silly for me to have to die for you to get to __________.  And I'd hate for you not to know how much I love you today."


I'm sparing the details because it's just between me and that person.  It's actually a holy thing to me, but I am sharing because it felt SO AMAZING to take that leap...and I am reaping the benefits every day.  That one act has been like a catalyst to wake up each morning and see how else I can punish the "It's too late for me..." bully.


There is a pre-quel and a sequel to this post.  Something had to happen BEFORE (Hint: To quote Cindy from her last post, “Failure can be a profound catalyst for mid-course correction & reinvention”), and something awesome has happened AFTER this act of audacity.  But those are SPEL tales for another time.


For today, I encourage you, my SPELer friends, to listen to what pops out of your respective mouths and see if it is contradicting (or hamstringing) the REAL you.  And have a blast coming up with an antidote for those dastardly dust bunnies; one that will kick their little cotton tails to kingdom come.

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