A Talisman for Paris

Yesterday, I walked to the post office to mail a note to my friend Shanna, and while I was there, I decided to check my P.O. Box. When I opened my box, there was a small silver package tucked inside, and I chuckled when I saw that the package was from Shanna. Talk about serendipity! We're definitely on the same wavelength.

When I opened the package, I didn’t see anything inside, so I sent Shanna a photo of the parcel via text message and said:

Hi friend! Just went to the post office to mail you a card & found a package from you. There was nothing in it? Xoxo. 

My intuition was screaming—do not throw this little package away. Dig deeper.

Shanna wrote me back immediately and a text message exchange ensued.

The mailer was double folded, and the gift was tucked inside tightly. I’m glad that I didn’t throw the package away because I would have been sad.

The parcel contained a lovely note and gorgeous necklace with a tiny Eiffel Tower encased in glass. Shanna told me to think of the necklace as a “. . . talisman, a good luck charm, a portent of things to come."

As I read Shanna’s note I started to happy-cry in the post office, and the tears continued to flow in the local drug store (I had to swing by for 3x5 cards). My tears garnered funny looks from fellow patrons, and that’s okay. They didn’t know about my thoughtful friend.

Physical gifts are lovely, but they aren’t a required part of friendship. Strong listening skills, compassion, and empathy are must haves—and Shanna has all of those things and more. She sees me, and still wants to be my friend.

In The Kindness Diaries Leon Logothetis said, "We just have to be willing to see each other. I see you, and you see me. Then the masks of who we think we should be fall away. And we greet one another in ways that need no language, that require no masks. We set out on the journey of life, getting to partake in this brief but beautiful adventure together."

With gratitude,

Tammy

A Year of Slow Reading

If you put a plate of chocolate chip cookies in front of me, there's a strong possibility that I'll eat all the cookies. I read books in a similar fashion; very quickly. Life is short, and there are hundreds of books I want to read, and there are so many cookies to eat!

This year, I'm changing my reading routine. Instead of trying to read all the books, I want to read slowly. Hopefully, I'll retain and remember more of the articles and books that I read.

Here’s what my year of reading slowly will include:

• Taking detailed reading notes

• Sharing inspiring quotes and links on the blog

• Talking about the books I’ve read with friends and Logan (this helps me remember information)

• Rereading books

Last week, I started rereading A Writer’s Paris by Eric Maisel, and I'm uncovering nuggets of wisdom I missed the first time around.

For example, Maisel said:

“Taking the bad with the good is a principle that writers need to learn. The victims of endless advertising, we have been brainwashed into fully misunderstanding basic ideas like good and bad. As one example of this malady, we are taught to expect only the best, What does only the best mean? It means that we feel we are entitled to something like perfection in our goods and services, that it is unseemly to talk about the failures and mistakes that were part of the process, and that things get our stamp of approval based almost entirely on how they appear.”

Maisel goes on to say:

"In order to create, you must take the bad with the good. You are bound to write many bad paragraphs along with the good ones. That is the eternal law. You can get rid of those bad paragraphs later, but first you must write them. Otherwise, you won't write anything. If you try to write only the good paragraphs, you will paralyze yourself. You will fall victim to perfectionism, even if you aren't consciously trying to be perfect. Understand that the good requires the bad, that getting to the good is a process that includes mistakes and messes.”

Maisel's reminders came at the perfect time because I'm trying to let go of my inner perfectionist; especially when it comes to writing. I'm happy that I decided to read this little book again!

Cheers to a year of reading deeply and slowly!