Pot of Gold

 I wrote this piece for my daughter to perform at a Debate competition.  She never used it, but I fell in love with the piece and wanted to share it:

              

         When I was a child, I always looked up, searching the sky for a double rainbow and the happier days finding one would certainly bring.  Daddy once told me a pot of gold sat in between the identical bands right at the base and it was mine for the taking.

“If you can just imagine it, lassie,” He’d say and I was convinced I would be the one to change our luck.  Our family was unfortunate in the luck department, but I was going to change all that.  We would never want for anything and our heartache would be replaced with a contented feeling swallowing up the empty spaces.  

Momma called the idea ridiculous, but she was too busy looking at the rain falling over her head to ever notice hope.  She didn’t like living in a shabby trailer in the middle of a pile of garbage.  The ugliness blinded her.  She never saw the flash when clouds would separate—how the light filtered through the grey, coloring away the drab, if only temporarily.  In those sacred moments, something stirred within me.  The colors were magnificent—a divine gift restoring my faith that anything was possible.

Yes, I believed in the pot of gold.  Daddy was the only one who understood why—I believed because I was born with a dreamer’s heart. 

Once upon a time, Daddy had been a dreamer too.  Maybe that’s why Momma pursed her lips whenever I showed any signs of sky-gazing, but it wasn’t always so.  There were old photos of their younger days hidden inside a chest.  Sometimes, I would sneak into their room to steal a glance when Momma was busy frowning at clouds.  When Daddy and Momma were first married, his head tilted upwards.  Staring at the heavens, he was waiting for his big chance, but with each passing year, disappointment had his eyes lowering ever so slightly.  Until one day, he barely managed to look past the soles of his shoes.  All of his aspirations were lost, torn away by the storm inside of Momma.  My eyes had seen firsthand, just how destructive she could be.

“You’re dreams will never amount to anything.  You’re a loser, just like your father was before you!” she would scream at him, pointing at an empty refrigerator, or waived past due notices under his nose.

He never stood up to her, just stared at the ground as the tears ran down his cheeks.  It’s hard to raise your head when someone is always pulling you down with expectations you will never live up to. 

“Why do you love her?” I once asked.

“Your mother is my rock,” he replied—like the word “rock” explained everything.  The answer made me angry.  He wanted me to chase rainbows, but he wasn’t strong enough to weather the storm.

He started drinking when I was ten and I wanted blame him for checking out, but Momma did enough finger-pointing for both of us.  Funny, how her contentment grew as the lines of despair creased into his leathered face, like his unhappiness fed her storm.  Didn’t she notice the way he was suffocating under all her pressure?  Daddy was a bird, broken and lost.  He was meant to soar, but Momma’s turbulence had torn his wings.  He had survived, but he would never fly again.

Time went by, and I watched daddy sink a little lower each day.  One day I found him lying in the street.  It was raining but there were no rainbows in sight.  He was sick and miserable and I wondered if dreaming would bring me the same fate.  I started to doubt in the pot of gold.  What if momma was right and thoughts of more contented days were silly?  What if daddy’s aspirations really were his downfall?  The thought made my dreamer’s heart heavy with disappointment.  Suddenly, my head started pulling down under the weight of my feelings, and momma was happy.  Of course she was happy.  My mind was growing more sensible, more like her.  Daddy became even gaunter with illness and I hated him!  I hated him for making me believe in rainbows!  I hated him for lying to me!  I hated him for dreaming, but most of all, I hated him for leaving me…

  I was only sixteen.  Certainly not old enough to weather the storm.

After daddy died, I never even looked to the sky.  What was the point?  There was no pot of gold waiting for me or any other form of hope.  My dreams weren’t special and even if I found my double rainbow, I’d never find my heart’s desire waiting for me.  The darkness descended in the form of rainclouds pouring misery over my hanging head. 

Years went by.  I married and had a child of my own. I forgot about rainbows and thoughts of better days.  Much to my dismay, I found my daughter to be foolhardy.  Her dreamer’s heart refused to be sensible.  I wanted her to be more like me—a practical woman who was constantly planning a way to weather the inevitable clouds.  

One day I went outside and my daughter was standing in the rain again, staring up at the sky in wonder.  I stalked after her and started to drag her in.

“You’re ridiculous, gawking at the sky in the middle of a storm!” I yelled at her, but she wouldn’t budge.  Frowning, I glared at her then up at the clouds in accusation. 

In that moment, something amazing happened and everything changed. 

The darkness separated ever so slightly, allowing a silver light to shine through, and there it was!  A double rainbow—shining over the crown of my daughter’s golden head.  My treasure sat in front of me for all those years, and I only had to gaze up. 

Finally, I saw her for the precious gift she was.  Laughing at myself, I grabbed her hands, spinning her around.  We giggled and danced as the droplets sprinkled our cheeks, masking my tears of happiness.  After a while I sat down on a blanket of wet grass.   I noticed it was green as I held her close, happy the storm had came and the rain had fallen.

“You see that double rainbow right there?” I whispered into her ear.  I thought of the day I learned about rainbows.  Thinking of my daddy, I shared my dreamer’s heart.

Building and Tearing Down Relationships

A while back, I heard this story.  From where or who escapes my memory, but the principle remained with me and I wanted to share with you:

There once was a fine architect who could design and build amazing structures.  He would spend years planning and finding the right craftsman to create his masterpieces.  Overseeing every part of development, he would finally begin building.  The entire process would take nearly ten years from start to finish and after construction was complete he would start the tedious, never-ending task of maintenance.  One day a man asked which part of the work was easiest and the architect replied, "Tearing down."  You see, the finest craftsman weren't needed to destroy, in fact, he preferred his breaking crew to be brutal and ruthless.  What takes ten years to build and lifetime to maintain could be reduced to rubble in a single afternoon, but the architect didn't like this part of his work.  Creating was much more rewarding.

You may be asking, "Why is Angela talking about construction in a post tagged to relationships?" and I assure you there is a correlation between the two.  Relationships are much the same as building and tearing down a structure.  To build, they need a sound foundation of respect and trust.  You have to plan and find the best tools to sculpt the camaraderie into something beautiful.  Love can take years to cultivate and a lifetime to maintain, but the benefits can certainly outweigh the labors.  Likewise, careless words can tear a friendship into pieces in the span of a single afternoon.

Baring this in mind, I made a decision this morning--to temporarily deactivate my facebook account.  Lately, it seems like there has been far too much tearing down and not enough building. I have felt myself slipping into unhealthy patterns and I am choosing to put an end to these destructive impulses by eliminating the source.  I want to clarify--this isn't about anyone but me.  I care about every one of you and I hope you will message me within the next few days with your contact information so I keep in touch.  It's been a rough week, and I've found myself reevaluating all aspects of my life.  Right now, I need to trim back and return to the basics again.  In a few months, I will reconsider.  Until then, I wish you all the best <3

True Beauty

For the past few weeks, I've been helping a group of friends plan our twenty-year high school reunion.  What an amazing experience!  I am so grateful for this opportunity, simply because of the re-connection with peers who have been missing from my life since graduation. But with every positive experience, there is also a dark side in which I would like to address - an issue with popularity and body image.  Interesting, considering the novel I am currently working on highlights a similar issue.  

In D-Brie, my heroin, Adrienne Morris, is so gorgeous men become preoccupied with the thought of owning her like a possession rather than seeing her as a person.  Blinded by the desire to win their prize, they fall prey to a serial killer's deadly trap.  There are so many twists in this plot that I have been left reeling and truly considering the meaning of beauty.  It is no wonder I am stuck on the coloration between obsession and loveliness when I am faced with the effects in every aspect of my life, both in the real world and fictitiously.  Finally, I had to ask myself; why are we all so preoccupied with obtaining society's definition of perfection? I decided to post my thoughts publicly, where I can reach so many of my classmates at once, because my description of beauty varies so drastically from social perception. 

To explain my view, I must first share a secret.  For as long as I can remember, I have  people-watched.  Looking beyond social and physical masks, I try to see into their true nature. Through many years of observation, I've discovered authenticity to be the most appealing trait in others.  My definition of beauty has little to do with physical attributes, but a glimpse of true-self reflected in another when they are unaware of my notice.  A photographer would call it a candid snap-shot of how they love, and are loved in return.  

In my opinion, true beauty cannot be purchased from a store.  Attractiveness has to be earned through battle scars of stretch marks, receding hairlines, laugh lines, beer bellies, and grey hair. One of the most fascinating discoveries in my never-ending social experiment is how a truly beautiful person grows even more so with age. Some spirits just have a light shining through every fiber of their being.  Their laughter and excitement are so contagious I find myself looking for ways to make them a permanent part of my life.  Through my eyes, they will always be radiant - regardless of their outward appearance.  


Well, there you have it. All of this time, you have been watched and probably didn't even know.  Right now, you should be asking yourself, why would I share my stalker-like behavior and risk restraining orders?  The reason is this - I want every last one of you to know that I think you are beautiful!  There is no one in the world exactly like you, perfectly flawed in every way.  All of us have certain things we don't like about ourselves, but you can't let them stop you from living.  Please don't allow your insecurities to stand in the way of something as important as your twenty-year reunion.  You will regret it for the rest of your life, I promise you.  I am making a plea to the class of '92 to attend at least one of the events.


I moved away from home nearly seventeen years ago.  If I passed most of you on the street, you wouldn't even recognize me, but we were a big part of each other's lives for four years.  We need to honor that time, because those years shaped and molded us into who we are today.  I will be there, with my gigantic thighs and scarred neck.  You'll have to come and hear that story.  You see, I was attacked by this mountain lion... :)

Make a Wish, Take a Chance, Make a Change

The decision to be happy can seem a bit obnoxious, but my attitude decides my experience.  Some people think I live in my own little world full of hearts and flowers, completely unaware of harsh facts of reality, but that is untrue.  I am not blind to the fact that our society is crumpling into a state of apathy, but getting mired down in the same negativity that caused this mess isn't going to fix anything.

Changing the state of this world begins within the state of our consciousness.  The shift is subtle, first taking place at home and in our communities.  Then the ripples are seen at work, when we no longer recognize where our job ends and another begins.  And suddenly, there is an awareness beyond our front doors when a simple question is asked:  What would happen if I stopped focusing on lack and limitation, and put all of my energy towards achieving instead?

I happen to know the outcome of this scenario.  Why?  Because the principle applies directly to me.  Born in the disease called poverty, I spent the first 23 years of my life looking for a way to escape reality.  Internal dialogue was deciding my experience and my perception wasn't pleasant.  Have you ever noticed how everything goes wrong when you are having a bad day, or experienced contamination from another person's negativity?  That is because discontentment is highly contagious and very destructive.  If you agree with this theory, then the opposite must be true as well.  A positive attitude can change everything.

What do you think would happen right now if I told you your happiness is only a thought away?  Or your dreams are right there...waiting for you?  Chances are you wouldn't believe me.  You would give several justifiable reasons to why your aspirations are beyond your reach, but I'm asking you to humor me for just a minute.  Think about what makes life worth living.  If all of these blocks weren't in place, how would you spend your time?  Something came to mind, I'm sure of it and the next step is pretty easy.  Like the Nike ad says: "Just do it!"  Stop worrying whether you have the talent or know how.  That comes later with experience

Now, I'm not telling you to quit your day job in pursuit of rock and roll stardom.  The chances of that happening are very unlikely, but I do want you to pick up your guitar and sing a few chords.  Write a new song and see where that leads.  Take a paint brush and dip it in oils, revealing a picture of your inner heart.  The picture might not be perfect at first, but whose heart is?  Coach a little league team, write a blog, or simply sit quietly with a child and read your favorite book.  Maybe you find joy in cooking or spending an afternoon with a friend.  Find whatever fills you with light.  Give yourself permission to experience the joy and heartache that comes with loving.  As your confidence grows, positive energy will take root and you will no longer care about the endless list of grievances towards your fellow men.  See how your perception changes everyone around you?

Contentment is a state of mind that comes with achieving something unique to our experiences and sharing our joy and heartache with others.  I may seem annoyingly optimistic at times, but that is because my heart is overflowing with love and gratitude for this life I have chosen.  Everyday is another opportunity to bask in the miracle I could not see for so long.  Open your eyes and walk with me, my friends.  Together, we can move the blocks in front of us, rock by rock, if you are willing to believe it is possible...

Quieting My Inner Voice

From the time I was a small child, I have always struggled with feelings of inadequacy.  Born with Attention Deficit Disorder and raised in feral environment, I fought my own brain, trying to comprehend the simplest tasks—like tying my shoes and addition.  I watched my classmates excel above me in every way, both academically and socially, overwhelmed by an insurmountable closed gate between me and my dreams.  They went on to college, but a higher education wasn’t even a consideration for someone like me.  I told myself that the opinions of “they” didn’t matter, but my self-worth was slowly eroding away.  How could I not feel insignificant when I failed in every measure society placed value on?  

I’m not telling you any of this to have your pity, but to help you understand my inner workings.  I learned to accept my limitations many years ago, and if I let my head do its thing, we actually mesh quite well.  On most days, the voice inside declaring me sorely lacking remains silent, but I do have my moments, like today, when all of my previous feelings of insecurity come flooding back.  I am torn down to my bare essence and faced with the same gate, taunting me.   It is times like this, when I pose the same questions over and over…

Why have I chosen this path where rejection sits at every corner?  Haven't I had enough of that already?  What makes me believe that I even have a snowball’s chance in hell of succeeding?  There are times when I consider calling an ugly duckling an ugly duck, but the thought of giving up my dream and moving on is far more painful than being told I am deficient.  Perhaps my childhood was only conditioning for what lies ahead.  I know one thing for sure: quitting is not an option, but I have also decided that I can’t count on the doors miraculously flinging open either.  I knew this going in, but I can’t change my hope or direction anymore than a leaf twisting in the wind can.  As my thoughts keep circling back, I come to the same conclusion—I am not doing this for money or even recognition.  I write because the alternative is too bleak to even consider.     

Dealing With Depression

How do you cope with sadness when the feeling is immobilizing and completely irrational? This is a question I have posed to myself countless times. I have struggled with depression for most of my life, but for many years now, I have managed to set aside most of the symptoms. A while back, a friend inquired as to what it feels like in the thralls of my worst moments and I felt compelled to share my journey, because the truth is if you haven't lived with it, you'll never really understand.

The fires of hell would pale in comparison to the terrible place I was in. The best description I can give you is this:  Imagine a black hole burrowed deep in the earth from which you should climb without the strength to even stand. All of your loved ones stand at the top screaming down for you to "snap out of it," but you are so paralyzed by your feelings of inadequacy that the rope they have tossed in your direction remains untouched.   

Depression is a very lonely and selfish state of mind. Negative thoughts rule your existence with completely destructive and highly contagious victim statements, like “My hands are tied” and “I feel trapped.” You can slide to the bottom with a single careless step and spend months analyzing your fall—time lost for everyone who has the misfortune of loving you. Ultimately, my husband and daughter's suffering was what prompted me to change.

I can recall the moment very vividly. On my daughter's second birthday, I made a cake and threw a party. After everyone left, I compared myself to other women in my life and came up lacking once again. My bad days outnumbered the good ones, and they weren't only affecting me. My entire family was suffering, including my precious little girl who deserved so much better than I could ever give her. I was broken, lying on the bathroom floor, deciding if I should take my own life. I played out their futures without me, and realized something I hadn't considered. My dying wouldn't save them. If I'd of chosen the coward's path, my baby would've spent the rest of her life wondering why her mother hadn't cared enough to fight. I was a mess, but my husband loved me, and cared too much to hurt them like that. I also understood that I couldn't continue for similar reasons. Something had to change. A single thought created a subtle shift within my mind and reality altered. 
I needed to change. 

New hope and purpose blew into my life like a breath of fresh air.  Instead of quitting, I vowed to fight and live with an awareness to which was absent before.  Some toxic relationships ended and focused all of my efforts on being whole.  I've slipped into the abyss since then, but now I can recognize when I'm losing my footing and end the down-hill spiral before I reach the bottom.  Just like any other health issue, early intervention is paramount.

Several years ago, I read that depression is a signal the mind sends out to the body alerting when something isn't right. It triggers a residual primal instinct and endorphins are pumped through the nervous system, preparing for either a fight or flight.  Since neither is possible in modern society, the chemical builds up and manifests in the form of unhappiness.  This idea made sense to me, only my instinct was triggered by the opposite of most people.  The majority of humanity fears the unknown while I fear stability.  For the first time in my entire life I was secure and the feeling was so foreign that I couldn't abide it.  The concept probably sounds as strange to you as it was for my husband or anyone else who comes from a functional family unit, but this wasn't the case in my childhood.  
Looking back on my early years, I discovered that the few fleeting moments of happiness I'd experienced were followed by the rug of security being ripped out from under my feet. Here lied the root of my anxiety.  I had the ideal husband and a beautiful little girl, but my schema was convinced that joy didn't last.  My certainty was such, that I was subconsciously sabotaging my happiness every day, hurting not only myself but everyone closest to me.  The pattern was prominent within my mother as well and I could see that I was carrying on the same tainted legacy.  

Recognizing the why most important step to recovery.  I still held a lot of resentment towards my parents, which inadvertently created their worst attributes inside of my household. Forgiveness and understanding was the only way to get past my negative feelings so I actively sought out their experiences. Through the life-stories of my mother and father, I discovered how much better my childhood circumstances were compared to their own. With empathy, came acceptance and ultimately, the ability to let go of the past and move forward. Forgiving myself proved to be more difficult, but eventually I saw myself through the eyes of others and decided that I was perfectly flawed, and to be authentic, I had to accept all of my aspects. With self-acceptance came a whole new life full of light and new experiences.  For the first time, I could see the world around me filled with beauty and wonder. Why would I want to live in the dark with all of this sunshine beckoning me with laughter and warm breezes?

I am not a medical professional, so the next bit is only my personal opinion. Treating depression with medication wasn’t the right course in my situation. For me, it seemed like placing a band-aid over a gushing wound. Depression was only the symptom and eventually the cause would've reared its ugly head through a drug-induced haze. I made a choice, but also realized the only person who had the power to make me happy was me. Everyone faces difficulty and filters the event through their perception. Do you know that 70% of all experiences are internal and only 30% is external? What happens in life does not define who we are, but how we perceive those trials determines our ultimate outcome.

Self-Publishing

A stirring in the blogging community regarding e-publishing has brought the pot to a frothy boil.  This isn't a new debate for any novice writer attempting to break into print.  In fact, I have posed this question to myself for many years now.  Is self-publishing actually breaking into print?  For me personally, the answer has always been no.  Landing a publishing contract seemed like the only way to earn the right to share my work.  Self-publishing felt like cheating...until recently.  A few days ago, I came across a posting (Are Publishing Agents an Endangered Species?) that changed my perception.  As I read, I began to see my writing from a business perspective rather than an emotional view.

A while back, I worked as a real-estate investor.  I discovered I had a knack for predicting trends and seeing the hidden potential in an under-priced market that was ready to inflate.  My real-estate agents were great at their jobs, but they couldn't work my properties with the same vision or enthusiasm.  Bottom line: they weren't as invested, both financially and emotionally. If I listed a house, months would pass without a contract, but if I put same house up for sell by owner and I showed the property, a buyer would be under contract within a week.  I flipped several properties over the years and everyone won.  But most importantly, I learned a valuable lesson I use in all aspects of my life today.  When someone stands in the middle, you lose the personal connection and both parties are unable to communicate their needs effectively.  The direct path is always the best way.

You might be asking "What does any of this have to do with self-publishing?"  And the answer is... everything!  Just like selling houses to the perfect fitting family, marketing Copper Descent on my own terms would give me the freedom to sell the way I deem fitting.  Taking this step would also give me much needed insight into the green pasture that lies beyond the rejection fence.  This also a controlled way to test for grass allergies before I wade in too far without an antihistamine.  With all of this under consideration, I have decided that if Copper Descent fails to retain a contract by the start of the new year, I will jump the railing and take my novel directly to the consumer.  This decision was not easy and I still get butterflies even thinking about what lies ahead, but the choice feels right for this project.  When I started writing Lucien's story several years ago, I knew publishing would be difficult, but I can see the hidden potential once again.