The Bliss Blog

The Bliss Blog

It’s A Beautiful Morning

The peeking in sun woke me up before my intended arising time. Clearly, the day had other ideas for how I should be spending its first few hours. I so wanted to tumble back into slumber, but it wasn’t gonna happen. Rolled over, turned on the radio to listen to Sleepy Hollow on my favorite station called WXPN which is a Saturday and Sunday morning gentle ease into the day program. Breakfast smoothie with dark chocolate almond milk, berries,  bananas and chia seeds tossed in for good measure jump started the metabolism. My mind is awash with the items on my agenda. Meeting with a young man I am mentoring, workout at the gym, editing a friend’s book and then dinner with a friend I haven’t seen in a year or so. Some writing in between, I’m sure, since I know that The Muse will have some dazzling ideas to present for me to recycle through my brain.


Although it is spring here in the Philadelphia area, the temps will make it seem summer-like. Planning on shorts and sneakers to celebrate the ending of a harsh winter. Cleaning and clearing out the excess, huddled up piles of stuff that accumulated. Bringing a huge bag of clothes from my closet and drawers to donate, since they have been taking up space, just as old emotional garb does. Feeling lighter in all ways. Exercising more, breathing deeply, surrounding myself with people who lighten my heart.

WXPN is celebrating poetry and has been playing music to honor the wondrous word weavings. Some of my favorite poets, include:

Mary Oliver



Oriah Mountain Dreamer

Emily Dickinson

Walt Whitman


Kahlil Gibran

Maya Angelou

John O’Donohue

Each one of them listened to the whispers of the Divine and offered them back out to a waiting world. They were willing to be conduits, hollow reeds and channels. When I experience goose bumps, giggles, tears and smiles, I know their arcing high into the sky arrows reached their mark. Their words nourish my soul. I am inspired to write when I read them and put aside my fears that my musings are not matching up to their examples.

On this beautiful morning, I wish you your soul’s delight. Drink it in, slurp it up, roll around in it, scatter it to the sky. Rejoice~







Professional Reader

It’s clear that I am a professional writer. It is my right livelihood work that brings me such joy that it is sometimes overwhelming. I’m grateful that The Muse sees fit to shower me with ideas at all hours of the day and night. As I mentioned in a previous Bliss Blog entry, I sometimes write in my sleep, awakening with stories fully formed and I need only to type them into being.

I am also a professional reader. With more books than any other kind of item in my home, more arrive regularly from authors and publishers who want me to review them or interview the wordsmiths. I am pleased to oblige, but sometimes it takes me awhile to get to them all. I read and absorb quickly, the content, sometimes giddy with delight, others sobered with the poignancy of the subjects and the ways in which they are crafted. There are so many talented writers in the world who have the courage to put themselves and their creativity on display. I was on the website of an author whose book I am currently reading and discovered that she doesn’t like to read reviews since sometimes she doesn’t like what she sees. We authors can be kinda sensitive about people dissing our ‘babies’.


Reading has long been one of my joys; since childhood, I have immersed in word soup. I loved meandering through the aisle of libraries and book stores and still do to this day. I was in a local used book store this past weekend and sat on the floor in front of a shelf of self help books. Paging through various tomes, wanting to adopt them all; I had to resist and only brought home two. I have many shelves in various rooms in my house and have begun double stacking some of them. My ideal décor would be wall to wall shelves.

The origin of my love affair with reading was that my parents read to me. My mom took my sister and me to the library for story hour. We would leave with stacks of books that we would read and return the next week and bring home more. When I got my own library card, it was a read/red letter day! Highlights Magazine and Dr. Seuss were colorful companions.


“Children whose parents read to them tend to become better readers and perform better in school”, according to the National Center for Education Statistics

“The more that you read, the more things you will know. The more that you learn, the more places you’ll go.”- Dr.Seuss


Writing in My Sleep



With every good intention, I climb into bed, nestle beneath the covers and close my eyes. I am aware of the silence in the room that is palpable. I rarely set the alarm clock, unless I absolutely have to be up at a certain time, since my ‘head alarm clock’ generally awakens me, often even before the alarm can go off. Slow, easy breathing follows. Sometimes I drift into sleep, as if a feather wafting on a breeze. Other times it feels like a rushing, plunging and plummeting water slide that I am being cast down. That state can last a few hours and then dreams intercede, as well as barely there awake thoughts. They can take the form of checklists of things that need to be accomplished the next day and I see myself using a colorful pen to cross them off. The cool thing about this process, which seems to happen naturally, is that by the time I get to them, it is as if they are already accomplished and I need only catch up to them.


As I have mentioned many times before, The Muse speaks to me 24/7, with raw and real ideas that insist on being shared. She is merciless and wakens me with ‘you gotta write this,’ messages. I run the ideas through my head over and over and form sentences on my mental screen even before I can type them on the keyboard. It is like receiving daily assignments. I have heard songwriters share that often, songs come to them fully formed. Same thing here. Channeled material,  God’s Typist taking dictation, with words that come through me, not just from me. Today, the assignment is writing about fears that people face, about truth telling vs. pathological lying, and adapting to changing roles. I’m sure that other writing prompts will show up on my roster. A jumble of letters that ask me to put them in order, so that they can be understood by readers. Wishing I could do a Vulcan mind-meld or brain dump.


I have heard that this process happens to those who have well honed psychic abilities when Spirit comes through with guidance for themselves or other people that insists on being shared. There are times when I would like to turn the faucet off so that I can rest fully. And then there are moments when I am exceeding grateful that I can keep the plumbing flowing with refreshing ideas. Splish splash~


Love Bubbles


A few days ago, I trekked from my bucolic Bucks County, PA home to the hustle-bustle hectic hangout of NYC. I was eagerly anticipating meeting two Facebook friends Sherri Rosen and Kurt Koontz.  I had developed distance relationships with both of them, which in these far-flung friendship via cyberspace times can still allow for emotional connection. I drove more than an hour to Trenton to catch a train and then another 90 or so minutes on the choo choo northward to the city. I parked myself in a two- seater, with my suitcase next to me on the floor.  Across the aisle was a young woman engaged in reading. In front of her was a young man, gazing intently at his smartphone. Down the stairs comes a family- a mom, dad and their two adorable little tots; looking about 2 and 5 or so. The dad had a folded up stroller for the younger boy. The young woman looks up and asks if the passenger in front of her would like to sit next to her so that the family could sit together in the four-seater. Not sure if they knew each other, but he accepted her invitation. I then asked if they wanted to store the stroller with me and I moved my suitcase under my feet.


I watched for a bit as the mom encouraged her sons to look out the windows at the scenery. They engaged in conversation about why the train kept stopping, about their trip to the city, about jails and why there were so many. The brothers were playfully hanging all over each other at certain points along the way.

When I arrived at Penn Station, I gave myself an hour to walk to the restaurant called Mangia where this grand re-union of souls was to take place, since Kurt and Sherri had not yet met either. Toting my suitcase on wheels behind me, I leisurely strolled in a way than I never had before. In the past, the frantic city pace had swept me up in its not so tender embrace and carried me along, breathless. Normally, I would have been distressed at the honking horns, cigarette smoking passersby, cars cutting each other off, people jockeying for position on the sidewalk. I decided, instead to surround myself with a love bubble. Nothing that I didn’t want to enter, could permeate it. No judgment, fear or doubt. No “What’s wrong with these people?” thoughts could sustain themselves in my mind. I could waft them aloft, just like the soap kind. I found myself laughing and smiling contentedly. I wondered if people though I was the crazy one.


Within short order, I was sitting in the restaurant after hugging a hello with Sherri whose red-haired spiritual/artistic/wild woman persona was what I had expected. She reported that I was a ‘what you see is what you get’ kind of person as well and I wasn’t a surprise either. About 15 minutes passed before Kurt strolled through the door and a heart to heart hug took place there too. I stood on my toes, he bent down a little and we met in the middle. The benefit of social media is that you get a chance to see what someone looks like before meeting face to face. I suspect that I would have recognized the two of them anyway, since they are definitely kindred spirits who I have known for eons. The conversation flowed naturally during lunch, and throughout the day, as Sherri went off to a meeting and Kurt and I continued to stroll around New York City, visiting Carnegie Hall, Central Park and Times Square. My pedometer registered 11,300 steps. I had a blast talking about my favorite subject – life, the Universe and everything.


That night, he and I had the joy of hearing Mallika Chopra and Gabrielle Bernstein speak at the book launch event for Mallika’s new release called ‘Living With Intent’. The daughter of Deepak Chopra, she is an eloquent, warm and approachable speaker. As a writer, she pens words that represent her direct experience with full human emotion. She is as real as they come. Gabrielle held the space as a spiritual God-mother/sister who beamed proudly at her friend; asking her questions about the concepts described in the book. As I looked around the room in which it was held, it was easy to maintain the high that comes from being around resonant people and ideas.


It was when I was sitting in a cab, being transported to Sherri’s apartment where I was to stay that night, that I was tested again. The cab driver was listening to a radio show whose host’s political views are the polar opposite of my own. It took a great deal of reserve not to react internally. Instead, I again invoked the power of the bubble to keep me on an even keel so that I didn’t take any growly energy into Sherri’s home. I blessed the driver and the radio announcer and by the time I arrived, I felt calm.

I entered her colorful apartment that reminds me of my own eclectically decorated house. I felt right at home there and we had a slumber party ‘girl talk’ chat that had us laughing with delight at times. Not much sleep that night; still abuzz with energy from the day.


Home now, after another playful time. The things you can learn from a four year old. What is even sweeter than chocolate, is time together. I had brought my ‘grand-dude’ Collin over his Easter basket today and instead of diving into the candy; he had two small pieces in a few hour time period, he went for the bubble wand and at first wanted me to blow them so he could dance in them, wave around them, pop them and play ‘bubble boss and bubble goblin,’ a game he made up. Then it was his turn to blow them. And then he decided I was the tickle goblin. He loves to cuddle and tickle. He likes flying, so I hoisted him up and we flew around the living room and dining room. Oh and then I attempted to teach him a little yoga. He had more fun crawling underneath me when I was showing him downward facing dog.


In case I ever felt like I was old- which my son thinks I am, all I need to do is hang out with the Bubble Boss. We shared “I love you’s before I left and I came home with this year’s photo of Collin and the Easter Bunny. One happy grand mom/bubble goblin.

May we all be surrounded by love bubbles.



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