Good Night Sweethearts, It’s Time To Go…

Do-do-bee-dee-do…

If by chance you’ve visited Wise Sparked lately, you’ve probably noticed a definite difference. The updates have been fewer and farther between, going from almost daily to just a couple a week. And this, my friends, is telling. It’s time for me to let go. Shut down. Move on.

When I first started out, my intentions were to spark rich, meaningful conversation and hopefully to develop some writing skills along the way. I imagine I’ve managed to do both, albeit with limited success. And now that I’m exploring new writing and business horizons, I’ve changed focus. I’m simply not giving it the time nor effort it takes to build a really great blog.

Thanks to all of you who have taken the time to stop in. I appreciate the feedback and support I’ve gotten both on and off line along the way. I’m especially grateful to Laura from the Delicacies and A Page of My Own blogs. Despite not knowing each other personally, she’s been a great role model, consistent supporter, and willing mentor. I encourage you to visit her blogs - you’ll see why she’s such a successful blogger and writer.

So that being said, thanks for being part of my first foray into the blogging world. It really has been fun, and a great learning experience. You never know - we could meet again in the blogging world. But in the meantime, keep those sparks a’ flyin’!
                                                                  Trish

Risky Business

Without risk, there isn’t opportunity.

I heard that somewhere lately, and it struck a chord.  I don’t like risk. I avoid risk. Just the thought of losing anything I've worked hard for shakes my inherent need for inner balance and peace. You won't ever see me in Vegas - I don’t even open ‘em first to know when to fold ‘em.

How much of a risk-taker are you? On a scale of 1-5 
(5 being the ultimate in risk-ocity), where would you fall?

Okay, I’ll admit, I’ve taken some risks. But not without a ridiculous level of scrutiny and risk-factor analysis. And even with that, my “gut-feeling” is the ultimate rubber-stamper. It’s either good vibes or a no-go.

Business risks are even worse for me - a different animal entirely. I envy those who take huge chances in belief of even bigger gain. Enterpreneurs, inventors, business owners, stock market players. When they lose, they lose big. But when they win, man, they know a financial freedom I can only dream about.

And yet, here I am, suddenly stepping for the first time into a business venture. Suddenly those usual aversions to anything risky, or anything “business” for that matter, are thrown out the window. I’m open. Excited about the possibilities. This thing must have potential for success because that inner voice isn’t holding me back.

I’ve wanted to write a children’s book - that’s part of it. Wanted to make some kind of contribution to the world - that’s a part, too. And of course, any improvement to my financial status would be heartily welcome. And just as well, I’ve found a great business companion whose approach and talents mirror my own. Talk about good vibrations.

“Without risk, there IS no opportunity." Well, opportunity’s a-knockin’, and I’m just gonna let it in.

And you? Are you a risk-taker? What is the greatest risk you’ve ever taken? How are you when it comes to business risk? Come on, write in. I need to know I’m not the only one!


photo by Ellie at Flickr.com

The Best and Worst of the Girl Friend Thing

Best girlfriends - nothing rivals that bond. It’s strong and loving and powerful. And no surprise here, it’s even healthy for you.

With a best girlfriend, everything’s up front and on the table. Nothing is hidden.  You get to trade insecurities, fears, information, joys, and secrets with complete and unabandoned truthfulness. Trust is never a question, vulnerability not a blip on the radar. Always, you have each other’s back. 

And then there’s the joyful part. I don’t care how old you are - laughing with a girlfriend is the best and most freeing experience ever. One minute you’re giggling like little girls, and the next you can be as deliciously outrageous and bawdy as teens. Totally soul-filling.

Sadly, though, we’re also known to for relationships akin to walking through mine fields.  For as much as we have this incredible capacity to love so fully, we also have the potential for unmatched hatefulness.

As a kid, many of my own “friendships”  were mired in petty squabbles and sometimes, downright cruelty. Even then I never understood it. What was behind the need for all the hurtfulness and backstabbing? Envy? Insecurity? Jealousy? Defensiveness? Probably all of the above. It wasn’t long before I learned to seek out and nurture those few friendships I expected to be true.

It makes me wonder. Are all girls wired with this way?  Is there some innate, primal need  to compete with each other?  Recently I witnessed a situation in which fully grown women engaged in ridiculously vicious behavior toward one another.  It totally threw me. We’re beyond 50 years old, for God’s sake!  What a sad waste of time and emotions. 

I also wonder if it’s even worse for today’s young girls. Online social networks are increasingly used as weapons in girl-to-girl psychological warfare. There’s also apparently a trend toward greater physical aggression on girls’ parts, too. Okay, so we have the capacity to eat each other alive. But why would we want to?

Girl Power. We’re thinkers, feelers, nurturers, doers. We live at a time and place in which most of us can create whatever world we choose. So why wouldn’t we choose to enrich our lives by weaving colorful, deep tapestries of friendship? That one will always be a mystery to me.

What are your friendships like? What’s the best of the best of them?  Sure hope you’ll share.

Photo by Gwen's GwennyPics at Flickr.com

Bringing Up Baby

Parenting - not an easy job. Naturally, the priority is to make sure your kids have a better life than you did. “Better” though, has been defined differently over the generations.

When I was growing up, many parents had lived through the depression, or at the very least, been affected by it. They strove for their kids to struggle less and have greater opportunities. They believed their kids could achieve that through education, strength of character and a sense of responsibility towards self and others.

Unfortunately, many of us who grew up with these goals were also “victims” of no-nonsense parenting techniques we now consider cruel and ineffective. Spanking, guilting, and emotional restraint were repressive. By throwing these things out, we thought we could grow happier and emotionally healthier kids.

Out of that came what I call “feel-good” parenting. The goal then was for kids to experience the least amount of negativity possible, and to be their friend. Listen to them, reason with them, praise them. Let them know they’ve got a right to their emotions. Make sure they feel like number one in your world. 

So how’d that work out for us?  With all those positive feelings, you’d think we’d have a rosier, kinder and gentler “Whoville” kind of world. But I don’t see that we’re any happier. In fact, I’d say we’re more insecure than ever. No, not on the outside. We’ve got attitude. Confidence to say and do what they feel. But happier? I doubt it.

I think things went wrong when some parents took things to the extreme.  

“Listen to them” turned into accept and approve of everything they say. And worse, give up your responsibility to make the child listen to you.   

“Reason with them” turned into a farce when tried out on 2 year olds, and an even bigger one when kids learned how easily it was to manipulate their parents through "reasonable" words back.

“Praise them” became nothing short of ridiculous, even in schools. Kids know when they haven’t done their best. And when they get praised indiscriminately, all they learn is that eveything they do must have equal - and therefore possibly little - value.

And, that “right to your anger” turned into some pretty ugly, irresponsible ways of expressing it.

How great would it be to combine the old and new-fashioned parenting techniques for something that really works - Parenting Through Love and Limits? I know it’s nothing new - just not as common. Most well-adjusted, happy people come from just that. Their parents were parents first, friends after. Their lives weren’t free of hurt and challenges, but they'd been given the gift of learning how to pick yourself up, dust yourself off, and move on.  They learned that they’re not perfect, and neither is anyone else. Respect. Love. Character. Wow, what concepts. Come on world, let’s start a new trend. 

How were you raised? How did you raise your children? What advice would you give toward more successful parenting, and hence, truly successful kids?


Photo by Lou and Magoo at Flickr.com

Honey, I'm Hooome!

One of my favorite books to read to the kids when I was a teacher was Eric Carle’s “A House For Hermit Crab”. Hermit Crab loves to get nestled into a nice new shell of a home, but as soon as he does, he undergoes another growth spurt that forces him out. Disrupted again, he laments at having to move on to find a new one. In the end of course, he realizes that it hasn't been so bad at all - with each new venture he's gained many new friends. And just as importantly, he learns that he's  happy anywhere as long as he’s got them and a comfy home that suits him.

I can relate to Hermit Crab. I sat down this morning to figure out how many times I’ve moved in my life and all told, I came up with 18. Eighteen different apartments and houses to live in throughout adolescence, college, career, and marriages. I can see every one of them in my mind’s eye, and look back fondly at each one. They, and the memories that went along with them, have served me well.

For as much as moving is a pain, it's always represented new beginnings to me. I love walking into different places - trying them on to find just the right one with the just-right feel. And ironically, though a bit of a nomad, I’m also a nester. I get right in there, determined to make it cozy and comfy no matter how long I’ll get to enjoy it for. And when it’s outgrown like Hermit Crab’s,  I feel no need to hold on. Just pick up and go - looking for the next just-right shell. Eventually I find it, and begin nesting anew. New ventures, new friends, new beginnings and a home. A real home.

What does home mean to you? Is it a place to hang your hat, or is it more than that? 

And how many times have you moved? Have you been a nomad, or have you settled into your just-right home for the better part of your life?

Talking Heads

Politics. What does that word conjure up for you? Change? Possibility? Excitement?  If only that word evoked something positive for me. Instead it smacks of some beastly netherworld that shares my world, affects my world, but isn’t at all a welcome part of it.

One of my readers commented the other day on how the only “news” station is Fox down here in Costa Rica. On the rare occasion that I do turn it on, hoping to get some glimpse of my “back home”, I end up being brought straight into that freakish netherworld. Republicans vs. Democrats, Conservatives vs. Liberals, Tea Party’ers and Independents, politicians and elections -  a convoluted world so self-important and so far removed from mainstream America you wonder how any of their dealings even end up touching people’s everyday lives. Like marionettes on strings, politicians, no matter what their party, are all too willing to be manipulated by powerful, outrageously backed lobbyists. And when politicians are manipulated, so in turn is the public. Resulting legislation, for good or absurd, is beyond anyone’s control if you're not part of the game. 


Ironically, the runaway system seems to have jumped tracks, and I’m not even sure if those in that netherworld even know it, let alone want to fix it. They’re too busy holding the country hostage by refusing to make any decisions that might affect their precious elections. The ones I used to feel proud to be part of before I knew any better. The ones that they seem to think people will switch parties for out of dissatisfaction. I’m convinced now that no party can, or will, make the difference. That would mean giving up the power.

Okay, I got deep again - sorry. So please, someone out there, talk me down. Tell me I’m wrong. Tell me I’m just becoming a negative old bitty instead of a wise sparked woman. Tell me what’s right about our political system. Help me believe there’s still hope for that wonderful country born out of values that matter like freedom, equality and respect. The one that  built itself up into a thriving, vibrant land. Help me believe it still exists, or at the very least, that it can be made whole again.




photo by Truthout.org 

You Can Run But You Cannot Hide

It  took about two years for the novelty to wear off. I wake up every morning to heaven, and still I managed to find a reason to be unsatisfied. 

It’s not that I don’t appreciate sitting out on the terrace with coffee in hand, watching the surf roar and pour itself gently onto the beach below. Sit mesmerized by the daily wave of raucous parrots screeching excitedly overhead on their way north, knowing they’d be back in late afternoon heading south again to who-knows-where they sleep. Reveling in the thousand green depths of the jungle carpet leading up the soft angular mountain peaks that envelop the house. And once in awhile, being treated to the howler monkeys barking in the distance to announce the day. Not too shabby.

All this, and not having to be anywhere. No morning pressure of having to get going to work. No Sunday blues about the upcoming week. Just sitting, watching the world awaken.

Most people would call this a vacation - even paradise - and I did.  But suddenly it wasn’t enough.  I needed goals. I needed purpose. I needed accomplishment. Most would say I needed a lobotomy. 

For the most part, the ex-pat community here consists of mostly of people in their 50’s and 60’s who have chucked it all for a simpler life. Many had really intense professions in their countries. Did they adjust better than I?

Truth be told, we all fit into one of three categories. There are the Putzers, those who’ve adapted just fine by doing nothing much, day in and day out. The read, they putz, they go online. They have no need or desire to accomplish anything more than that.

Then there are the Gotta-Doers. They need to be busy, maybe make an income, but not necessarily be too busy. Some have found hobbies, others small side jobs. And some like me, are trying to figure how to do both simultaneously.

And finally, of course, there are the Crunchers. No matter what, they cannot stay still. Even here, they don’t know what to do with themselves if they’re not going full tilt. Most of them have built businesses or careers down here. Yikes.

Personally, I’d like to be a Putzer, but I guess I just don’t have it in me. Which one would you rather be, or are you?

Imagine All The People, Living In A World...

Extreme poverty. Poor education. Children growing up in pain with domestic violence and abuse. Drugs. Alcoholism. All the horrors of a world unbalanced.

All that exists right here in Costa Rica, too, and yet, I’ve never heard of a mass murder. And that goes for many other countries. So why is it so commonplace in the States? Do we just accept it as part of our world?

Every time I hear of insane events like the one that happened in Connecticut yesterday, I'm truly dumbfounded. Call me naive, but I simply just don’t get why people hurt each other. When I started delving for answers in college, I learned that rapists are mostly about sick power and control. I learned that serial killers get the psychological thrill of cat and mouse power, and most especially, the reward of notoriety. They want to live to see the whole world looking at them. But mass murderers in the workplace? What’s behind their actions? What do they get out of taking innocent people’s lives before their own?

For this, I Googled “profile of a mass murderer”. On deathreference. com they generally described it like this:
Although many people experience job loss without becoming mass murders, they (sic) have frequently experienced chronic or social isolation. The only factor in their lives that is meaningful to them is their job or career... Typically many years of frustration have occurred before this fatal event... They are incapable of coping with their problems in adaptive ways by changing their behavior...

An inability to cope in adaptive ways by changing one’s behavior. Years of frustration, meaning those around them could probably see it, or at least something, coming. I’d say that’s the key to all criminals.  When I was teaching, I could see that potential in the few profoundly behaviorally disordered children I encountered. Not even the minefield of ever-stretched and dysfunctional social services could help. A futile battle. All I could do was pray that I wouldn't be reading about them in the paper. Multiply that by a whole country.

So, how do we prevent any child from growing up to be a murderer? Here are my "what-if’s" for the day:

What if the country made a pact to glamorize do-gooders? Make real-life, authentic goodness cool?


What if we made a pact not to subject our children and ourselves of the daily onslaught of sex, violence, and stupidity every day? Media jams it down our throats and says that’s what the public wants. Is it really? What if we railed against it and let them know that it isn’t? What if we just turned them off?


What if we all took some social responsibility to nurture all children into a secure and nurturing world? What if our government actually threw some money at that for a change?

Our country used to pride itself on pride. Now we seem to pride ourselves on not having any. Rights without responsibility. Bad guys win, victims are schmucks. A government no longer for the people.  Is our empire falling?

And yet, the fact remains, we still have hope. We voraciously eat up good news stories - especially of every day heroes like the Captain Sully’s of the world. So why don’t we demand more? Why don’t we put money and media into investing in goodness for a change? Let's make it cool - on Facebook, Twitter and everywhere else. I just might want to return to my country again.

Okay, enough of my railing.  What do YOU think?

The Ever Greater Uphill Battle

I thought I could get away with it. Here I was, in relatively decent shape for fifty. And then, in just a few short weeks - okay, I'll admit it, more like a month plus - I lost my edge. Gone. Kaput. Vanished.

It’s not like I didn’t see it coming. The rainy season was the perfect excuse not to jump into the pool for my morning workout. I hate frigid water. But then, reality soon came a-knocking. The thigh muscles actually started talking to me. I swear they had this freakish Oz-thing going on. “We’re melting!” they taunted. I could feel them giving up, slackening and losing control. And if I kept ignoring them, I knew what would happen.

And yet, ignore them I did. Freezing pool aside, we also started having workers at the house by 6:00am. Call it Excuse Number Two. No way would I be parading around in a swimsuit in front of them. That's when those two weeks turned into four (plus). When my entire body started taking on this disgusting pudding-y thing. Worse than ever. Thighs, belly, arms, face. Yikes. They were all screaming, “I’m melting!” in unison. I had to get this sick cacophony out of my head.

The problem is, I know what my problem is. All my life, exercise has been a fairweather thing to me. I go in fits and spurts. And just when I get to the point of being relatively “buff”, I reward myself by letting go. Smart, ha? But I can see this menopausal body’s not going to let me get away with it anymore. One slip and it’s a quick slide off to pudding land. Dang!

I finally broke down this morning and got into the pool. I froze at first, but have to admit it felt great. Tomorrow I start walking with a friend. And maybe, if I really get my act together, I may just get to the gym for some weight lifting. Those happen to be the only forms of exercise I actually like, so I’m sticking to them. I have to. So cheer me on, will you? I’m gonna need it. Big time.

How does exercise fit into your life? Are you a natural, or is it something you have to put your mind to like me? What kinds of workouts do you prefer? And, if you have any move or routine that keeps away this pudding-y thing, (especially for midlife belly and thighs), I beg you to share!

Worldly Ties

The hardest thing about life on the move is leaving family and friends. Man, if we could only take them along. Like nomads, we could all go exploring the world together. How cool would that be!

Jeff and I come from great families -the kind that are friends. The kind you hang out with, party with, connect with. Watch each other's families grow, and feel pride. The kind of families most people would want be part of. Every day.

Funny thing is, even living in close proximity we still didn’t see each other very often. We could go for months without getting together or picking up the phone. Especially in the bitter New England winter, which kept everyone hibernating. We’d all get into our own lives - working, managing every day “stuff”, and “vegging” on weekends. We did, though, make a point of getting together for holidays and special events, which gave us an instant “family fix”. Hooking up with friends wasn’t consistent either, though admittedly, we’d see each other slightly more on weekends, and much more in the summer.

It might seem we take each other for granted, and maybe we do to a certain extent. But that makes Jeff and I no less grateful for the incredible people who've enriched our lives along the way. And here in Costa Rica, we’ve got an especially tight little community. We're naturally linked by a sense of adventure, retirement, and the close contact of a small village. In fact, our social calendar can actually get totally out of control if we want it to (which is what happened last week.) And like anywhere, you make acquaintance-friends and lifelong friends. All fill you in unique ways.

No doubt, it’s the people around you who make all the difference. And sadly, with every move away, there’s loss. But what eases that is knowing that true friendships and family relationships transcend time and space. You carry them with you in the world, and they do you. You remain unconditionally, unquestionably connected.

And now with Skype, internet and basic phone, it’s all good. Love at our fingertips.

Tell us about your relationships near and far. We'd love to hear from you!

The Waiting Place

Ah, so that's where I've been! What a perfect way for "Dr. Seuss" to have described it. Not a Slump, Lurch, or Bang-up. But this Waiting Place? It's definitely a Hang-up. At least it has one perk, though - hope. You WILL get unstuck. The universe WILL point you in the right direction. You WILL go forward. In time. The "just-right" time.

Patience is the key to the Waiting Place, and I'll admit, it's something I've got a limited supply of. There's a point at which I start chomping at the bit, trying to force all kinds of possible solutions to make that Great Change come. I get desperate for some equilibrium - antsy to know exactly where I'm going next. To be on my way.

As you might know, I've been away from the blog this past week. One reason is because our social calendar's been chock full. The other reason, though, is because we've finally hit on getting unstuck and out of the Waiting Place. The universe is talking to us. We just may be off to Great Places! We must get on our way!

It's been a long journey - probably about 10 months or so. After listing our priorities: greater financial security, cooler climate, freedom to travel, we went online. Constantly. Where do we want to live next? Finally, all research pointed to Ecuador. Then we made a plan. We'll rent this place, go down, check it out, and rent there for awhile. Enjoy the culture, the climate, the beauty. If it works, settle in. But this time, no house-buying commitment. Move on when we come to the next Waiting Place. Because yes, eventually, there will be a next one.

But why not go back to the States? Because still, all we can think of is, Oh, The Places You'll Go! We have our health, relative youth, and no kids. It's now or never. Will we go ever go back? Most likely, Indeed! It's 98 and 3/4 percent guaranteed. At the next "just-right" time.

Is the Waiting Place an issue for you? Maybe it's just me, with this innate need to jump-start my life every so often. Or maybe you're more apt to have other kinds of Hang-ups and Bang-ups. Tell us about it, or, about the Great Places YOU Go. Today is your day!

Oh The Places You'll Go

Oh, The Places You Will Go!

Do you remember that book by Dr. Seuss? It’s joyful, hopeful - all about possibilities. But too, it captures life’s ups and downs perfectly. In a matter of fact, don’t-bother-whining-cause-that’s-the-way-it-works kind of way. Now that’s reality.

I think about that book as I try to tease out life’s next adventure(s). What are the possibilities? The realities? And when I mentioned it to a friend, she suggested I begin by writing an affirmation letter to myself. What would that do, I thought. Will it help to see things, and myself, more clearly? This was a perfect task for me. I love to write when I’m “stuck.” It’s like grease to me - incredibly cathartic. Definitely worth a try.

So I sat down and wrote away. Visions of the heady, swirling illustrations of Oh The Places served as inspiration. I could see every phase of my life as an adventure in itself, every one with ups and downs. And lessons, always lessons.

Have you ever written an affirmation letter? It really does help to put things into perspective about who you’ve been, and who you are. But as my friend said, it also helps to see who you might yet be. I found myself writing with conviction - and without fear - about what I want to accomplish in the future. And it gave me insight as to how to make it happen.

Timing, I realized, makes all the difference in my life. Things come only when I’m ready, and not a second before. In the meantime, I need to lay back, be open, and pay attention. To what I really need and want. But most of all, to what’s going on around me. The world reveals its answers subtly, pointing me in the right direction. I just can’t push it. It’ll come.

Though this wasn’t a completely new revelation, it was definitely a timely affirmation. It clarified what I need to do right now - accept this stage of transition, or better said, of transformation. I also realized that I actually paid attention this week to one of those subtle hints. A woman I know, talking about a totally different topic, said, “You've got to speak it into existence." That's it, I thought. I have it down in writing - now maybe it's time to speak it into reality.

Once again, have you ever written a letter of affirmation to yourself? Give it a shot - it could be interesting.

Beauty Gone Awry

The last blog got me thinking. If we ~ as grown women who have come into our own ~ battle with the pressures of youth, beauty and the modern way ~ can you imagine what young girls and women are dealing with?

Be yourself. Be happy with who you are. The only opinion that matters is your own. And- don't judge a book by its cover.

I'd venture to guess that most parents still continue to instill these values in their daughters. About respect for yourself; respect for others. About what matters. Inside.

By the time kids hit their tweens, it's no secret that parents have less and less influence over what and how they think. Their friends and the media take over, forces as strong as any. And what are they saying? You'd better be pretty. Skinny. Hot. Big breasted. Unique differences or imperfections need not apply.

Teens have always been hard on each other. But now, just by going online, they have the power to ruin another's reputation, and tragically, sometimes even a life. And they do. All because someone deemed them physically unworthy. No wonder the pressures on kids have risen exponentially.

As adults who have actually lived through times when life wasn't consistently tainted by images of sex, violence and empty values, we have the vantage point of perspective. But what do kids have, especially if they didn't have solid parents to teach them about their own strengths and inner beauty? They most likely seek physical perfection, and erroneously with that, their self worth. Think about it - even plastic surgery is readily available to the masses. And sadly, many young girls are embracing it.

So here I stand, looking back in that mirror, and seeing my foolishness pretty clearly. Yes, I'll always be proud and want to look and feel my best. But I'm on the natural plan. Inside and outside. And, what I do, I'll do only for me.

Wake Up Call

They’ve probably been there for some time now. Changes so gradual, so slight, they were easy to deny.

But today when I looked in the mirror they stared back at me, taunting my sense of vanity ~ and reality. Is this really me? My eyes - different in a way I can’t even name. The furrowed lines - those that used to pop up on demand helping to express my Pandora’s Box of emotions - are now embedded permanently, leaving subtle, muddy shadows. My God, I thought. I’m really not thirty-five anymore.

My guess is that I’ve probably been in denial for awhile. In my head, my age ranges anywhere from 35 and 45. Clearly there’s a disconnect here. BUT! My inside screams. I'm still the same person. I feel the same; see life in the same way I always have - as huge buffet with so many tantalizing options to explore. I pretty much behave the same way, too. Optimistic, friendly, serious, responsible, crazy - whatever. I even dare to think of myself as kind of “cool” for my age (though I may definitely be off on that one).

Gotta wonder, though. If I’ve been so delusional about the physical changes taking place, is the rest of me aging that much without my seeing it, too? I can see it coming now. Sweater on in 80 degree weather, elevator music in the background, yatty-yah...

Okay, maybe I need to rethink this. Let's say I'm not completely delusional - just more resistant about this aging thing than I thought I’d be. Seriously, I don’t mind being 50.
It's definitely got its benefits - less stress, no pressure to prove oneself, a healthy sense of self. But now that my physical looks have caught up, I wonder where it's going to take me.

On the Vanity Scale, I’m probably a 6 or 7. Looking good is important, but it’s never been a critical focus. But now I've hit the inevitable truth. So, how resistant am I? How much will it really mean to look as young as I feel? I hear the voice calling now. Get out the extra dose of creams and lotions, kid. You're in for a ride.

How old do YOU feel inside? Is there any kind of a disconnect between your age, your looks, and how young you really feel? Or, as coined on Dr. Phil lately, Am I The Only One?

Young Souls, Old Souls

It was our very first conversation. Tears sprang to his eyes. Transported back, the memory clearly overwhelmed him.

“I was alone, perched up top in a church tower, looking down on Saint Marco’s Square in Venice. I started to weep and didn’t know why. And then it hit me. I’d been there before ~ in another life. I felt it to my core. This place was a significant piece of my past. It was almost painful.”

I don’t think I’ve ever had a past-life memory as vivid, though I do believe I’ve lived before. For instance, I've always had a strong affinity for Hispanic and Italian cultures. Not Asian. Not German. Not Indian. I swear I have a latin soul. But why? Is that who I’ve been in the past?

We talked more, blown away at sharing the same beliefs a lot of people would consider illogical - even insane. But it seems to us that, if we do have more than one, each life is meant to teach us specific lessons. And finally, when our “young souls” have learned all things meaningful about our existence, we reach the highest level of wisdom and understanding. That's when we become “old souls”.

I have no idea which life I’m in now, though I definitely hope I’m on my way to becoming an old soul. There have been several in my life who have taught and touched me deeply. Seems like a state well-worth aspiring to.

Do old souls and young souls really exist? What are your beliefs about the possibility of past lives? Looking forward to hearing from you!

You Say Potato, I Say...

Have you ever noticed there are some things in life you simply either are or you aren't? Like whether you’re a morning person or night owl; a hit-the- pillow and you’re out cold person or tosser and turner? For most everyday things we all fall along a continuum somewhere - there’s always room for latitude. But take a look at the list of Either/Ors here. Which are you?

Late Night or Morning Person?
Hot or Cold?
Mountains or Sea?
Glass Half Empty or Half Full?
Alone Time or Hate It?
Shopper or Not?
Exerciser or Resister?
Beauty Savvy or Not?

Naturally, the double-edged sword comes in when you’re at odds with your partner. On one hand, you could both just take a “viva la difference!” attitude. Or realize that being polar opposites on anything is a definite pain.

For Jeff and I, the Hot and Cold issue has come front and center. I love living 8 degrees from the equator. Living barefoot and in shorts all the time is great - I don’t miss the bitter icy cold for a second. Jeff, on the other hand, is now desperate for some relief. Attracted by the deep sea sport fishing, he thought he’d get used to it. But his body still hasn’t acclimated after three years. So now what do we do?

Look to the mountains, that’s what we do. I’m good with that - as long as ice and snow aren’t involved. We might actually be able to find just the thing close to here. I wouldn't mind cuddling up by the fireplace. Actually, being able to cuddle anywhere would be a very cool thing. And, I can always put on more clothes.

I've had my paradise, now it’s time he gets his. Which leads me to another to add to the list...
Compromiser or Not?
If you’re in a relationship, I'm thinking that's one thing you've got to agree on.

Have you ever come to an Either/Or loggerhead with anyone? How'd you work it out?

Sisters

It's National Sisters Week - today is Sisters Day - who knew?

I usually ignore these so-called "special" celebrations. In the back of my mind I picture groups of greeting card company execs wringing their greedy little hands in ecstasy over the godsend. Okay, so I'm a little jaded...

Still and all, it does make think of my own sisters. I have two - nine and thirteen years older. Had we been closer in age, would we have fought over clothes and boyfriends? Or would we have been tight - a thick-as-thieves tour de force? That one I'll never know.

As a kid, they called me "little Patty". More than likely I represented little more than a pain in the butt to them. My parents made them take care of me, babysit me, watch what they said around me. I remember one of them even having to resort to bribery to keep me upstairs while she and her boyfriend had privacy downstairs. It worked - I still remember that fluffy white stuffed cat. Clever.

As a teenager, it was a different story. They, and my sisters-in-law too, were my salvation. I got to hang out with them at their houses, often babysitting for them. I learned a lot - about relationships, raising kids, being a woman. They were my role models and confidantes, though I wonder if they knew it. They gave me the freedom to grow, away from the naturally protective eyes of my parents. What a blessing.

And now? They're definitely my friends. With the age differences melted away, we see each other for who we really are. Though very different, we "get" each other. No, it's more than that. We respect each other's strengths. Accept each other. Simply love each other. It's strange - we've never had a real fight over all these years. Even when we disagree, we find a way to let each other know without being hurtful. No need to be. We hear each other.

So today, in honor of my sisters and sisters-in-laws, I raise my glass. Cheers, girls. You done good.

Do you have sisters? Tell us about them and your relationship. And if not biological, who are your sisters in spirit?

Are You Money Wise?

The root of all evil - what's your take on it?

They say you learn your attitudes toward money from your parents. Well, that sure explains it. My father was a depression-era, work hard and you'll earn a decent living kind of guy. He never took risks, neither in business nor investments. He saved relatively little and basically lived for the day. Pretty interesting for a public accountant with six kids, ha?.

My mother, on the other hand, was the traditional good wife. She never held money in her pocket of her own; never learned how to use a checkbook. My father made all the big money decisions. She was (supposedly) happy to be taken care of.

So where does that put me? I'm my father all the way. I've earned a nice middle, sometimes upper-middle kind of life, but always way too short a distance from getting over my head. I invest little and conservatively, and have no business sense whatsoever.

So what's the deal? When I really get down to it, it's all about fear. Stocks, bonds, investments, business, sales, marketing - they all intimidate the hell out of me. And guess what? I've finally come to the point where that very fact ticks me off.

I know I need to open my mind - loosen up and see the benefits of being money wise. Cultivate a business attitude. I've been dealing in human services for so long - getting a secure paycheck and health coverage - but now I don't have that security anymore. What if I want to start a new career? Make some money for the long future ahead? At this rate, I wouldn't know where to begin. But one thing's for sure - I know it has to start in my head.

And what about you? Are you money wise? Do you have any advice to foster a new attitude? Help!

Out of Character

Does character matter anymore?

Okay, so I guess I've turned into the little old lady lamenting the loss of those perfectly imperfect, downright wholesome, good old days. The days when people actually cared about things like honor, integrity, and respect. But wait. Are they really gone?

Let's say leaders like John Adams, Abe Lincoln, and Eleanor Roosevelt came back to visit. They turn on one of those mesmerizing boxes called a television. That ubiquitous thing that supposedly reflects modern society. What kind of impression would they get about who - or what - we've evolved into?

One good thing about living in a place where nature is a show itself, is that I don't bother watching that box much anymore. But not so long ago, it was my escape. At the end of the day, I loved not having to think. But then I realized it did make me think - about thousands more things - and many, if not most, of those thoughts weren't positive. It was like subjecting myself to an onslaught of neuroticism, ignorance, violence, anger, and downright stupidity. Almost everything had an "edge" to it. I felt overwhelmed. I came to resent feeling so manipulated by the images, content and ads. I wanted out, and I got it.

So then I turned to real life. I looked around at my family, my friends, and the vast majority of people I encounter. They aren't edgy or jaded or ignorant. They all live every day lives with integrity, strength and love. Are there issues? For sure. But not to the extent that TV is anywhere near an accurate depiction of our lives. Not a chance.

I find that most people choose goodness. I wonder if John, Abe and Eleanor would find that too. I bet they would.

Do you? How close does the media generally depict your life and those around you?
And does character matter anymore, or have we chosen to turn away from it?

Councils of Wisdom

I've just heard about a new book called, "The Council of Dads". Its author, Bruce Feiler, was diagnosed with a malignant tumor in his leg. He was faced with the very real possibility that he wouldn't be around to guide his two young daughters through the challenges and mysteries of their lives.

His solution was remarkable - and very simple. What if he gathered a group of male friends and family members to act as lifelong "godparents" for them? And what if he asked each of them to share their own personal pieces of sage advice for the girls? Surely they'd never be alone, and they'd always have male perspectives to turn to and learn from.

What a great concept. I love it. That's generally the idea I had in mind when I started this blog. What if we were our own council of Wise Sparked Women? What if we gathered each other's words of wisdom and shared it with the children in our lives? And then, let's take it one step further. What about doing what Bruce did and organized friends and family to contribute? Or maybe start a "council of moms" like Bruce's young daughters suggested for their own mother?

Happily, Bruce Feiler is in remission and has a clean bill of health now. But it doesn't take our lives being threatened to know the value of passing wisdom on. So let's do it!

In the course of blogs, I'll be honing in on character traits like honesty, humility, pride, etc., and also on life concepts like money, love, death, etc. So please join me and share your wise words. You have so much to offer!