From BLOG

Waning Crescent

[Interestingly, after I penned, or rather chalked, this haiku for Day 2 of March Marchness, I dreamed of eating a cheese pizza with pepperoni & sausage. Although I didn’t just eat a crescent mooned shape piece. Guess my subconscious was on overdrive, putting in overtime, stressing out over my recent cholesterol issues, cuz I woke up with the inside of my cheeks a little raw from clenching them in my teeth, even though I have a mouth-guard that’s supposed to protect them from me working out my stress in my sleep. Stranger than fiction. But I figure that dream can be spun two ways: pizza heaven or hell. All I know is a waning crescent moon slice of pizza sure sounds good to me. So I’m gonna work overtime on that spin.] 

Waning Crescent

I feel you moon. Me
Too. The shadow grows. Glow on
Like the shadow dreams.

#marchmarchness #haikuchallenge #haikuaday #day2 #haiku #poetry #haikuverymuch #becausetheworldneedsmorepoetry #moonchild #waningcrescent

March Marchness

My writers group & I are doing a 31-day haiku-a-day challenge for the month of March. We’re calling it “March Marchness”. Said merry band of poets will make much ado about the best haikus by publishing a spring haiku fling edition anthology. Because the world needs more poetry. Haiku very much.

Meanwhile, I’ll be dropping mine here. If you feel like you wanna play along, haiku me in the comments. And if you use #marchmarchness, we will be choosing a few to include, even if you’re not in the band.

Haiku Challenge. Day 1.

More Alice

Rabbit rabbit–Time
To chase the white rabbit–Time
To eat cake–springtime.

#marchmarchness #writeclub #haikuchallenge#haikuaday #becausetheworldneedsmorepoetry#rabbitrabbit #spring #eatthecake #morealice 

10,227 Days of Amanda

Scene from… wasn’t it yesterday? When Amanda Michele Freaking Evans said, “Once upon a freaking time-ME!”

Once upon a time, 28 years ago TODAY at 10:24 am, THIS. sweet little bean popped her little redhead out, looked around and around, most likely wondering where the party was, cuz she was an ENFP from day 1. And thus began the party that we call life but I call my sweet Amanda Panda Bear. I didn’t even count her fingers or toes when I caught first glimpse when nurse Holly handed her to me: She’s perfect. And it was true. I still don’t know how many fingers in toes she has but it just doesn’t even matter. She is, always has been, and always will be the bundle of JOY and adventure she was at first breath, and never ceases to take my breath away like it did that day. Still wrapped around that tiny little finger. Cheers and happy birthday to my sweet Amanda, always one of my three reasons, the one who broke this young Mama Mia in, the one who showed M&M the ropes and pretty much narrated their lives till they realized they didn’t “hafta obey manda”. What a trip these past 10,227 days have been with you in my life #rorytomylorelai. I just want to say how fun every stage of you has been. Even the emo raccoon eyes years. But this. The shift that has happened since you became a mama too, the precious friendship we get to share, is the funnest adventure yet. Happy birthday, baby, baby! Mai Mai loves you!

One. Year. Ago. Today.

That time the hubcap & i were in Maui celebrating our 30th anniversary and we awoke on our last morning to THIS emergency alert (read bottom to top) on our phones:

The false alarm aka “OOPS” text didn’t come for 38 minutes. What did I do during that 38 minutes? I called my kids to tell them what was going on, to hear their voices, and to tell them i love them, just in case. And we banded with other travelers who like us had no idea even where to seek shelter. We turned on CNN. We searched Twitter. Somebody was Googling about the alert system and found out that from the alert the estimate is 12-13 minutes before impact. There was a 7 year old girl crying her eyeballs out that I will never be able to erase from my memory not would I want to. I will carry her with me and lift her up the rest of my days. I can’t imagine what she is going through trying to process cuz I know what I’m going through trying to process.

I made this video right after we got the second text. I was still shaking in my boots. Also I may have peed a little. After I finished the video and that #bigwave beer, we packed up, I stopped by the pool and gave the rest of our beers to some peeps sitting in the hot tub and said, “It was a good day not to die with you,” & they gave me one of the best standing O’s I’ve ever received as I dropped that mic & “left the building”. Then we headed to the airport. We swapped war stories with fellow shocked and awed travelers about what are the odds we would be in Hawaii when this happened and I won pretty much hands down, which basically meant that everybody kinda blamed me a little and told me to let them know when and where I’m going at all times so they can avoid any further scary shit like that going down ever again. I remember Dan Rather posting on his Twitter that he felt like Hawaii oughta buy us all at least a drink on the house… but I don’t think Hawaii got the memo cuz I didn’t get a free drink.

So I just wanted to put it out there to #Maui #hawaii the universe that I’m still open to Hawaii making this right. I wouldn’t mind one bit if they wanted to fly me back to buy me that drink. Just please not in hurricane season cuz the odds are not always with me, as being one of the 1 in 8 and getting breast cancer not to mention being in Hawaii one year ago today.

 

 

Hello 2019. (Don’t let the door knock you on your ass like you tried to knock me 2018)

Goodbye Felicia
AKA 2018
–I’m still in the house.

But nice try or three. 
False incoming missile text,
Broken write pinky…

I am the black knight.
“‘Tis but a scratch” and I don’t
Mind bleeding on you.

#postcardfromtheroad #newyears2019 #haiku#becausetheworldneedsmorepoetry

Just a girl and her vision board. The whole fam dam did them together this year, which was the best twist ever not to mention newest holiday tradition. I’m pretty excited about this one/this year. My word for 2019 is focus and this one is the most focused vision board for me to date. Did you do a vision board or choose a word or set intentions for 2019? Share below and I will put your word/intentions on my prayer/meditation wall and we can lift each other up and cheer one another on.

#postcardfromtheloveshackbabyyeah #focus #visionboard #intentions #2019

Real Talk about Self Talk

I’m not one to intentionally stand gazing at myself in a mirror. I don’t exactly avoid them but I don’t seek them out either unless I think there’s a popcorn kernel stuck in my teeth or something. Sometimes I’m brushing my teeth and I look up and surprise the hell outta myself when I catch my own eyes watching myself brush my teeth. I am one to talk to myself. All day every day. Since I work from home, alone, it would be a lonely day if I didn’t. Last night I had one extra piece of pizza and one extra glass of wine and this morning I was a little mad at myself and I was saying some not so kind things to myself about my lack of self control. (It’s the practice of mindfulness more than body image that I’m talking about here, but then again, it’s also about the fact that I complain to myself about the blueberry muffin top I’ve accumulated since the operation out damn golf ball and the whole she-bang ectomy I had a couple years ago not to mention turning 50.) But then I happened to catch my countenance in the bathroom mirror as I was heading to the kitchen to refill my coffee cup. It kinda stopped me in my tracks and I actually had a little convo with that girl in the mirror, cutting her a little slack, jack. I think I said something like, “Hey. Why so downcast? I don’t agree with all your choices, but then again, I don’t always agree with all mine either and I get a little beside myself sometimes too. Chin up buttercup. I get you. I got you.” Do you talk to yourself? How’s your self talk? What’s the last thing you said to the person in your mirror? #postcardfromtheloveshackabyyeah #girlinthemirror #selftalk #bekind #bebesideyourself #getyourownback

This Is Me

I love this old pic of me. 2nd grade Joules. 7 or 8 year-old Joules. Circa de 1973. Some high school kid who was taking a photography class took it after school one day, and then gave me a b&w 8X10 of it. Which I keep hanging in my prayer/meditation closet. This is one of the past me’s that I most relate to. Besides the obvi aerodynamic chest and little belly peeking out;) This was little latchkey Joules. Ragamuffin me. Shortly after one of my first real haircuts. (When I was born, I had nothing but peach fuzz on the old bean until I was 2. My mom taped bows to my head so peeps would know I was a girl, which I am told, even though I already know this about myself, that I wasn’t into and promptly ripped out. Once it finally started growing I don’t know if my mom ever took me to cut it. All I know is at one point I remember it being long enough to sit on it.) It’s the year we moved to a new city and we were in between homes at these apartments across the street from my Dad’s cash register biz that he started when we moved there. It’s the year my Mom went back to work, with my Dad, to help him start the company. It’s the last year I was good at math. I killed it on the times tables. Mostly cuz my teacher, Mrs. Dowd, gave us candy every time we could recite another times table correctly. It’s also the year I got a D in handwriting. Mrs. Dowd said I “write like a doctor”. Which little Joules took as a compliment and replied: I know. I know. My brain just goes so fast that my hand can’t keep up #geniusproblems. It’s the year my baby sister, Jennie was born. Which is the year I wrote my first poem, a love poem, about Jen: “Jennie is a slobber slot./Jennie cries an awful lot./But even so I love her.” Didn’t quite have the Haiku form down nor could I hang with the rhyme scheme all the way through to the end yet. But that little ragamuffin was a poet and she knew it. She knew she was gonna grown up and be a writer. She’d known she was gonna grow up and write books ever since kindergarten, the second after she closed the book from the first one that she read all by herself. That girl knew she was gonna grow up and be a creative. I mean, look at that outfit. Those pants though. My mom made them for me and I built that whole look around them. My mom used to sew most of my clothes way back in the day, but it super looks like ditching the bows wasn’t my only way of expressing myself with my own wardrobe choices. That born to be wild child had artist written all over her. Way before the world ever tried telling her much ado about who to be or not to be. Footloose and fancy me. Free. I love that little rebel.

Do you remember who you were before the world started trying to put it’s cookie cutter stamp on you? What did little you daydream about? Do you have a pic that reps who you are today? How does this past you inform today you? And on the other hand, if you were hanging out with this past you, instead of looking at a picture, what would you say to little you? What would past you say to now you. Share below. I’d love to see where your photograph take you. #writingprompt

The Art of the Breath

Breathe.

That’s my word for 2018. Whoa. Did you see what I did there? Threw down 2018 on the 6th day of the year like I’ve been writing it all my life. Like I own the place or something. Usually I’m erasing the previous year till spring kicks in to thaw me out from being all frozen in time writing down last year’s date. But I guess kicking off this #happynewyear of 2018 in Maui helps. After all, they say this place is magical. This time, turns out they are right. But this post isn’t about validating them. They probs wrote down 2017 this morning. In pen. And had to scribble it out. Or wad it up and throw it away. That’s just one of the reasons I heart pencils. Takes the pressure off from having to be so perfect on the first try all the damn time cuz they have the superpower of erasing your mistakes. But I digress. This post isn’t really about how freaking amazing pencils are either. Even though I will never understand why they say pencils are only #2. Talk about #fakenews. I don’t even know what writing impliments they say is #1, but all I can say about that, is unless it’s a purple crayon, they are leading the masses astray if they rank pens superior to pencils. But back to my point.

Breathe.

According to @MerriamWebster, my fave dictionary peeps not to mention the most fun dictionary to follow on @Twitter, breathe means: “to draw air into and expel it from the lungs respire; broadly to take in oxygen and give out carbon dioxide through natural processes”. I’m probs not telling you anything you don’t already know about breathing there since you’ve been swapping out the oxygens for the carbon dioxides 24/7 since you’ve been born. Which oughta make us all experts by now. Except, you know how most of us only use about 1/10 our brain? I’m wondering if breathing is the same? Cuz…

Breathe. Also means:

  • to blow rainbows, I mean, softly
  • to LIVE, which probs points out the superpower importance of breathing more than anything
  • to pause and rest before continuing
  • to feel free of restraint; ie., Joules needs room to breathe
  • to permit passage of air or vapor, which seems to be a kind thing to do for others
  • of wine to develop flavor and bouquet by exposure to air #youhadmeatwine but also ^^
  • to become perceptible be expressed; a personality that breathes and that distinguishes his/her work; ie., Joules Evans, I mean, see how important breathing is?

Breathe.

The thing about breathing. It’s the most natural thing, but I forget to do that a lot. It’s a gift, but since it’s an automatic function that I forget is being given to me every single breath, I forget to be grateful and say thank you for most of the breaths I am given (and that makes me feel like a bit of an asshole when I think about it). When I do think about breathing, though, breathing somehow curiously becomes the most difficult thing to do. Also, for some also curious reason, I find myself holding my breath all the damn time, and mostly when I need to breathe the most. All I can say about all that, is thank God my heart doesn’t depend on me to remember to beat.

Breathe.

Funny how I already have it tattooed on my write hand in Chinese #foreshadowingmuch? But for real. I got it a few years ago after the shrink I used to see prescribed it to me. It was a pretty good Rx. I’ve been practicing it ever since. Even though I can’t read Chinese or anything. The hubcap gave me a pretty hard time about getting a tattoo in Chinese cuz what if the tattoo artists punked me and permanently inked something ridiculous on me? Imagine how vindicated I felt when a girl from Shanghai came up to me on the aerial cable car up to Masada during my spiritual pilgrimage to Israel in 2013. #vindicatedAF I don’t want to point any fingers and say the hubcap has any #trustissues or anything, but I also thought it’s worth pointing out that I don’t have any. When it comes to getting tatted up.

Breathe.

Inhale. Exhale. That’s what my tattoo literally says. #instructionmanual #rtfm

It’s all about flow. In breathing as well as writing. And I am a writer after all. Who breathes. So that’s my tell of the importance of the matter. And don’t we all just want to matter? To leave some kind of a beauty mark that we were here? My friend Barbie and I used to talk about a quote we both dug that has become a mantra for me, toward that end: “Aspire to inspire before you expire.”

Inspire.

Funny how one of the definitions of inspire is to breathe or blow into or upon; or to infuse (something, such as life) by breathing. That kinda took my breath away when Merriam-Webster tweeted that definition of breathe while I was researching my word for 2018.

Breathe.

First the inhale. Besides the obvious oxygen, it got me thinking about what inspires me. Cuz if I wanna blow rainbows, I mean, if I aspire to inspire before I expire, I gotta be inspired myself. Which means I gotta be intentional about that kinda air that I breathe too. Some of the things I jotted down that help me be/stay inspired: prayer and meditation, creative community, immersing myself in a 52 week challenge (that I started when I turned 52 this past September) to consume art by inspiring female artists or about inspiring female protagonists, travel and adventures, poetry, drum circles, learning to play my uke, being in my writing zone, creating…

Then the exhale. Besides brushing my teeth cuz the carbon dioxide, it got me thinking about the beauty mark that I was here that I’m hoping to leave here someday. Which means I gotta be intentional about my writing and making of the stuff I’m trying to leave behind. Which is why the inhale is so damn important and not to be neglected, and why breathe is my word for 2018. This is going to be a year of create #everydamnday. Here’s some of what’s brewing: Finish my Route 66 book, record Audible version of SHAKEN in my own voice, publish a book of my poetry, Alice in Wonderland writing workshop/book, year of living sincerely VLOG, homeschool memoir, my work with Grace project/short film or mini-doc/book, meditation training, Qi Gong training, life coaching?, and my someday dream of my own studio called St. Udio’s…

Breathe.

That’s my word for 2018. What’s yours? It would make me happy to write your name and word on my prayer/meditation wall and lift you up this year if you’d like. Comment below or shoot me a text or email.