Welcome to my World! I love to absorb my surroundings and people watch. I am fascinated by and embrace all walks of individuals. We all vary in our idiosyncratic ways yet are ultimately the same, striving to forge our way through this journey we call life, in the hopes that we might each self-actualize along the way.
Allow me to introduce myself. I am a writer, competitive long-distance runner, mother of four. I love challenging myself in all endeavors I engage in. I write novels. I run 100-120 miles per month and participate in races, half-marathons, full marathons and obstacle courses across the United States. have four children: a 25-year-old son, a 23-year-old daughter, a 21-year-old daughter and a 16-year-old son who is in high school.
I love to explore my surroundings and can often be found venturing out on lengthy treks of up to twenty-nine miles to traverse: mountains, streams, waterfalls, deserts, canyons, beaches and anywhere else that I can connect with nature to feel her pulse and be fed by her wisdom. Even the streets of the metropolis cities hold wonder for me, with their unique flow and energy.
I hope that you enjoy browsing through my web site for a glimpse into my world of never-ending adventures, perils and awakenings.
Cindy
Earlier today, I was looking at some of my mud run competition photos, and they got me to thinking.Yes, it is fun to get down and dirty and push myself to extremes as I race these competitions.But that’s not the only draw to the races, least not for me.
I’m hooked on these races for the very reasons I used to spend mass hours creating intricate obstacle courses in my backyard as a kid, or later in my own backyard for my children and their friends.I compete in the races for the same reasons that I scaled every fence and wall that blocked my path as a kid.Every tree that cried out it needed to be conquered.Every pole that had to be scaled.
I suppose the biggest reason I adore these competitions is that they remind me of those fun times spent as a kid.When I cared not how dirty I got, only that I overcame the challenges placed before me, and that I triumphed in the process.
And just as when I was a kid, my adrenaline and endorphins get racing at such high levels that I never notice—at the time—the cuts, scrapes, bruises or removed pieces of flesh that I endure.It’s only after, when the mud gets scrubbed off, that my “ouchies” are revealed.And there are always those—“ouchies.”But they don’t bother me.Though I have permanent scars from some of them, I wear them with pride, recalling just how much fun I had in the process of earning them.
There aren’t many things in life that allow us the privilege of reconnecting on such a tangible level with the best parts of our childhood.Mud run competitions allow me to do just that—reconnect—and have a heck-of-a time in the process!
I find it fascinating how perspective plays such an integral part in things.Take, for example, the weather.Here in southern California, we’re blessed with truly nice weather the majority of the time.So when we do experience temperatures that dive down to the thirties or colder, folks tend to freak out a bit while others, who live in habitually colder regions, shake their heads at what lightweights we are.
Now I’m the first to admit that I don’t like cold.Actually, I prefer to say that I don’t do cold.But like most southern Californians, I know something the rest of the head-shaking individuals don’t seem to understand.Here in So Cal, we’re at a distinct disadvantage when the thermometer plunges.
To begin with, our bodies are accustomed to living in a warmer climate, and thus we tend to have thinner blood, not exactly conducive to staying warm.Then there’s our clothing.Here, we don’t tend to wear a lot of wool or other materials that insulate most efficiently.Instead, when it gets “cold” we throw on a cotton hoodie over our cotton clothing and are good to go.
So, perspective plays a big role in understanding the various situations folks find themselves in and how they handle themselves once there.
That brings me to the whole part of how folks perceive themselves versus the reality of how they actually are.We all know individuals who think themselves the most in tune compassionate beings when, in fact, they are the biggest jerks.This makes me wonder.
Like having thinner blood and wearing inappropriate clothing that prohibit us from keeping warm, could it be that those who delude themselves into thinking they’re oh-so-wonderful when they’re not, are ill equipped to know otherwise?Might it be that they’re too thickheaded or arrogant, or naive or dense to know otherwise?Could it be that they prefer a beautiful lie to the ugly truth?Or might they be aware, down deep, but too lazy, frightened or unaware of how to make themselves more favorable.
It seems like whenever I’m faced with folks like this, there’s no sense trying to talk with them, for instead of taking the constructive criticism offered as a means to improve upon themselves, they become defensive and lash out, effectively shutting out any valuable sensibilities that might have made a difference in them.
This makes me feel somewhat sad for them while at the same time utterly frustrated that there’s nothing I can do to help.That until the person, themselves is willing to remove their self-inflicted blinders and take note of how others perceive them, then there’s no hope for improvement.
So, like the person living in warmer climates that suddenly finds him or herself faced with temperature changes that plunge, the self-deluded individual needs to get thicker blood, lay down their defenses and thus ingratiate themselves into a climate that they otherwise won’t be able to adapt to.
I’ve always been a glutton for being creative.Whether it’s with writing or creating things from scratch with my hands, if I’m creating something out of nothing, then I’m a happy camper.One of my favorite things to do is to take things that already are and modify them so I can use them in a completely different capacity, most often for the opposite of what they had originally been intended to be used as.
That’s what I’ve been doing today.My project has included working with wood, one of my passions.Ever since I can imagine, I’ve adored working with wood.The smell of fresh hewn wood, piles of sawdust gathering, the feedback a saw blade gives as it slices through a piece of wood are a few of my favorite things.Engaging in them has always brought me the greatest peace.Not sure why, but they have.
For years, I had an arts and crafts business where I made country wood decorations that I’d create on my scroll saw, put finishing touches on and then sell to customers across the United States.But though it was a lucrative business, I decided to close it down when working with wood became a chore instead of the passion I’d always known it to be.As soon as I retired that business, my love of working with wood returned to the fulfilling activity it had always been.
Today, as I sawed, ground and sanded away on different pieces of wood, little piles of sawdust formed under my work area.I found myself smiling at them and drawn to want to trace my fingers through that fresh-cut wood.Inhaling deeply, I drew in the scent of the various woods I’d cut and felt the greatest calm wash over me.
So, today was a great day.Got to do something I adore and find inner peace in the process.
Some of you have enjoyed learning a bit more about me through a series of articles that Cheri Endsley wrote about my writing and self.At first, I wasn’t even sure I wanted to post the articles here, not sure if anyone would be interested in them.But the feedback I’ve received has indicated that folks like what they’ve read, and for that, I’m grateful.
If you’d like to view the forth and final part of the article, it can be viewed here:
Some days just don’t go the way we planned.Take mine for example.
This morning started out well enough, right on schedule with getting done the things I needed before heading to the dentist’s office—not exactly my favorite place to visit.Now mind, you, mine is a very conscientious dentist who prides herself on making sure that her patients feel no pain while sitting in her chair.But today I knew I was going to be uncomfortable, for I was going in to have my temporary crown removed and the permanent one seated.
Gives me chills just thinking about the process.
Oh, and did I mention that since I was short on time, I had vowed to make sure that I made it through the procedure without the benefit of Novocain, which would have taken longer?Seeing as I have a fairly high pain tolerance, I figured this was doable.After all, I’d done it in the past.
Well, the temporary crown came off easily enough, but when they began poking around and scraping the old cement off with that gawd-awful metal pointy tool they have, the shockwaves of pain began shooting straight through my tooth and overwhelming my mind.But I was determined to stick to my plan to make this a quick visit.
The dentist noticed me stiffen and asked if I was okay or needed anything to dull the pain.My nails attempting to puncture the lovely armrests to her oh-so-comfy-but-I-so-don’t-want-to-be-here chair, I smiled through the discomfort and told her I was fine and to please proceed.
Good lawd, there are times I wonder why I do things like that!
So, the dentist continued, rubbing the sensitized remains of the now-exposed tooth, scraping more, while sending more electric currents of pain shooting through my mouth.Somehow I managed to make it through all of that.But when she asked her assistant to spray the area with what I knew would be water straight out of a freezer, and then blow air straight from the Antarctica on it, I had a momentary mental image of me bolting out of the chair and running out of the office screaming, “Never!” But again, my self-control kicked in, and I found myself smiling as I looked at the sweet assistant with the awaiting demonic instruments and said, “Whenever you’re ready.”
I swear there was a momentary glimmer of delight in her eye before she began spraying and freezing the area over with her ice-cold water and air, blown through the little tube that I hope would somehow get tied in a knot so it would be rendered useless.But luck was on her side not mine, so the cycle of rinse, blow, freeze, rinse and blow some more was repeated until…well…until I had more visions of bolting out of the chair.
Throughout all this, I had slipped into some bizarre chant in my head that if I endured, it would all be over soon, just as soon as they asked me to bite down on the permanent crown to set it.And so I endured and was more than giddy with gratitude when the dentist took out the new crown to show me, before getting ready to check to see if it fit properly.
Now, I won’t bore you with the details of how that fitting went down, other to say, that I ended up leaving the office with the exact same temporary as I had entered with.You know, the one that could have stayed right in my mouth, without my having to endure all that I did if only they’d known that the permanent one didn’t fit quite right.But alas….
Leaving the office, I tried to view the positive, as I’m prone to do, and noted that I was way ahead of schedule.
Yippee!
Of course, the fact that I felt like I’d been on the losing end of a horrible battle didn’t make me feel any better.But, sucking it up I made it through the remainder of my day, trying not to worry over what ramifications my not having gotten the permanent crown set today might cause, seeing as I am to report for jury duty this coming Monday. This was the whole reason they were setting the permanent one today to begin with.
So much for best-laid plans.
Now I’m wondering how long my having to serve on jury duty might keep me from being able to get back to the dentist and if the temporary will stay put for that amount of time.
At the end of today, I left my Pilates class, exhausted, and was thrilled to be heading home—finally.I no sooner got in the door and went to take a refreshing long drink of water than the temporary crown, the one that I had endured all the pain earlier in the day for, popped out.
Holy crap!Really?Are you kidding me?
Looking at the clock, I noticed it was a quarter to six, causing a cold panic to envelope me.
What if the dentist is gone for the day? That means she won’t be back until Monday.Oh, lawd!
Dialing as fast as I could, I called the office and was relieved to hear the receptionist pick up.I quickly filled her in on what had happened, and she told me to come in—right then.
Relieved, but near tears at the thought of having to go through again what I had earlier, I reluctantly got in the car and made my way through rush-hour traffic.Arriving at the office half an hour later, I had the option of enduring once again without the benefit of Novocain or of having it take longer.I opted for without painkillers and got to go through the whole lovely process for the second time in the same day!
Lawd almighty, what next?
Well, I’m home now, crossing my fingers that the temporary stays put this time and hoping I don’t have to report in person to jury duty on Tuesday, so I can go back to the dentist and have her set the permanent crown in place. But this time...you can count on it…I’m opting for Novocain no matter how much extra time it takes.
Well the articles on my writing and me are certainly coming out in rapid-fire.The first two of the four-part series debuted last week, and now the third part in the series has just been posted.You can find it here:
Discovering that I was to be featured in a column was flattering enough, but to learn that story would be stretched out to encompass four separate parts was not only a surprise but also a real thrill.I’m quite pleased with the way the journalist put the piece together and hope readers will enjoy learning a bit more about me as they read it.
I’m wondering if any of the rest of you have conversations with friends, etc about how challenging it can be to make one’s self fully understood when writing emails, typing texts or conversing via the internet.Recently, a good number of my friends and I have shared times when our intent was misunderstood by the recipient.The results were hurt feelings or the person reacting in a defensive manner, thinking we were angered or lashing out at them.
So how do we go about making our point clear?Many, myself included, have resorted to actually writing out our emotions in parentheses, following certain statements.And then there’s a whole other issue of when someone thinks you’re upset and shouting at them because you put a word in all caps, meaning to emphasize but not “yell” it at them.
Under the best of circumstances, communication can be challenging.But when we take out the face-to-face element and replace it with writing messages back and forth electronically, things can get…well, frankly…they can get rather messy.
So how do we avoid falling into the uncomfortable potholes of miscommunication?I’m not sure that’s entirely possible.But we can reduce the number of instances if we take the time to slow down when communicating with others via written form.If before we hit the send button, we take an extra minute or two to read back what we’ve written to ensure, as best we can, that it accurately conveys what we intended to say, then things should go smoother. In reality, they won’t always go as we had hoped.And in those cases, the best we can do is reach out to the person and try to make ourselves better understood.
With how society is leaning more and more heavily on electronic forms of communications, this is no longer an option but rather a necessity.
About a year back, I wrote about “me dates,” a concept first introduced to me by Julia Cameron in her book, The Artist’s Way.The pretense of a me date is for an individual to value themselves enough to set aside time to do something just for them.It can be as simple as getting a mug of coffee, going for a hike, strolling the mall, walking the beach or whatever floats your boat.But the main guideline is that a me date is to be spent by the individual—alone and not in conjunction with getting any actual tasks checked off their to-do list.
Today, I took one of those.Not just for a little bit, but for a good portion of the day.I needed some time to just be alone, refocus and treat myself to things that made my soul sing.So that I did!
Seeing as it was a spectacular day, I went for a run up in the mountains—one of my passions.Immediately following that, I headed to a Pilates class where I swore the instructor must have been onto the fact that I was sore from my run and tried her darnedest to do me in with the strenuous workout she had the class do.Following that, I called my best friend and we took the time to catch up with one another, sharing bits and pieces of our lives, gaining strength from the other and comparing notes on how we’re feeling.
And how do I feel now?Refreshed, revitalized and like I’m back on track.It’s a great place to be, and had it not been for my taking a me date, I’m not sure I’d be in this very special place.So I’m grateful that I could treat myself and will try to remember to do so more often.
A couple of days back, I mentioned a four-part article that had been written about me, following a lengthy interview by a local journalist who was spotlighting my writing career and me.Part one had already been released and can be found here:
Some days are just meant to be laughed through.Today is proving one of those.Waking up, I was thrilled to see that it wasn’t raining as had been predicted.Checking the weather site I have programmed into my computer, I realized that I had three hours until the storm was due to arrive—plenty of time to get in my mountain run.So, I layered myself in cold weather clothing, complete with gloves and headed out.
Though the air was thick with moisture, the sky was clear.But…about two miles up, I felt the first raindrop, followed not long after by a few more.Then the drops changed and felt suddenly heavy.I realized that as I’d climbed in elevation, the temperature had dropped at least twenty degrees and what was now hitting me was ice.
Here I had a choice, turn back or keep going.Despite it being cold out, I was warm in my clothing and decided to keep going.Continuing on another half mile, the ice began driving into me, pinging off my face, already sensitive from the cold.Though they kept fogging up, I had to keep my sunglasses on to block the ice pellets from hitting my eyes.
Continuing to climb in elevation, I was met with more driving ice and then snowflakes.I finally crested the summit and headed back down.Leaving behind the snow, I again came across the driving ice crystals that stung my face followed by a consistent rain. I settled into my run, enjoying the elements.Through out, I had to watch my footing, as the path I was on was steep and mostly clay, which feels like running on a combination of dog messes and slick ice when wet.
Ew!
When I got home, the first thing I did was head to the coffee maker to grab a hot mug, prior to heading to the shower.But I never made it that far.Rounding the corner into the kitchen, something on the floor below the coffee maker caught my attention—lots of water and mounds of soap bubbles!
What the…?
For a second, I paused, completely dumbfounded as to what had happened.But then I recalled just prior to heading out, that I had asked our youngest son to put soap in the dishwasher and turn it on.It was then that I began laughing—hard—realizing what had happened.Unable to locate the regular bottle of liquid dishwasher detergent, which has since been replaced with little cakes that we put in the dispenser, he grabbed the bottle of liquid hand dishwashing soap and filled the reservoir.Satisfied that would clean the dishes—after all, it was for dishes—he turned on the dishwasher and left the room—enter me just at the end of the cycle.
About ten minutes later, we had most of the soap bubbles from within the machine removed and all the ones and water off the floor.Now, the machine is finishing another wash—without any detergent this time—in the hopes that will complete cleaning the mess.
Like I said, some days are just meant to be laughed through, and that’s exactly what my son and I have done.
By now, those who follow my blog are aware there are a wide variety of thoughts pinging their way around my head any given day, and I’m no shy to share them here.So why should today be any different.Right?
We read it in the papers, hear it on the news, view articles about it in magazines and listen to folks discuss the topic—should parents be held accountable for the wrongdoings their children commit.There have been laws posed that would send the parents of truant kids to jail.Also, laws have be proposed that would send the parents of kids who commit crimes to jail instead of the child themselves.Additionally, lawmakers have tried to make it the financial responsibility of parents when their kids do something wrong.And then there’s the whole part of the local community turning their back on the parents at a time when they most likely need understanding and support.
So these are my questions.If a parent is doing everything in their power to keep their child under control, have made use of all resources available to them, and still the child acts up, should the parent be held accountable for what their children do?At what point does it become the responsibility of the child themselves to be made to pay for their culpability?What if the child appears to be doing the right thing, going through all the motions of having things under control only to suddenly surprise everyone by committing a random act against the law?Who’s to blame then?The child?The parent?School officials who didn’t notice the warning signs if there were any?
In theory, it sounds all fine and dandy to hold a parent accountable for the acts their child commits—but only in theory.When one looks on a deeper level at what drives the child or if, in fact, there is nothing the parent can do to control them, then one must take a step back and realize that perhaps it’s time for the child themselves to step up and be made to pay financially or otherwise for their own offenses.
In addition, if the parent is held accountable, is one or both put behind bars.If the answer is both, then what happens to the other kids that might be in the family?Why must they be made to suffer for the crimes of their wayward sibling?
Parenting is hard—the most challenging job one can ever enter into.Some take it seriously and yet, despite everything they do, one or more of their kids ends up getting in serous trouble with the law.Other parents exert the bare minimum effort and some are lucky enough to have kids that toe the line, doing what is expected and in keeping with the laws.In my opinion, to universally hold a parent responsible for their wayward child is not only irresponsible but can be damaging to others involved: other siblings, the parents themselves, community members.
There’s no easy answer and nor should there be a universal code to which all must be held accountable.In my humble opinion, I think each case is as individual as the people involved.Let’s not forget that these cases do involve people—real human beings with foibles just the same as you and me who don’t need to be shunned for their shortcomings.Instead, they could benefit from a little empathy.
A few weeks back, I was approached for an interview about my being a writer.Originally, the piece was to be a one-time article.But, after the interview lasted three hours, the journalist opted to turn it into a four-part feature.
Cool!
The first part of the article came out Tuesday of this week.I thought some of you might enjoy reading it if you’re interesting in finding out a bit more about me.For those who are so inclined, here’s the link.
There are days like today, when I’m warm and toasty, sitting in my office getting work done while looking out the window at the nasty weather outside.Of course, the constant mantra running through my mind is that I need to go for a run, get my miles in. But…looking outside again, I cringe at the nastiness that would await me out there.Then I bring up the weather site I have programmed into my computer.Clicking on the hourly forecast, I hope to see some improvement.There isn’t any.
As the day winds down, I find myself torn, wanting to go for a run but not wanting to be outside where it’s cold, raining, etc.I hem and haw, get a few more items checked of my to-do list and then it’s that time—the point of no return where I either bite the bullet and go for the run or stay inside, knowing I’ll be warm but will ultimately regret my decision.
My internal coach kicking in, I suck it up, put on my cold weather running gear, complete with mittens, and head out.The minute I do, the chilling blast of air my lungs takes in is shocking but somehow refreshing.The wind whips my ponytail here, there and everywhere.And I settle into running up into the hills where I know that it will be colder, but that’s okay, for I’m prepared with my clothing.
Cresting the summit to a hill, I round a corner and then spot it—the gift that has been waiting for me to come and witness it.There, spread out before me, is the most incredible sight.Armed with nothing but the camera on my phone, I stop to snap a few photos, hoping one—just one—will do justice to the beauty before me.
The picture that accompanies today’s blog is the one that best captured what I saw.How there seemed to be a ball of flames inside the clouds while the rest of the clouds looked to have fiery flames rolling through them that appeared to want to join forces with the giant ball of flames.
Having taken my pictures, I pause to truly admire the show Mother Nature is putting on, the one that had I stayed inside, I might never have born witness to.And so, standing there at the crest of that hill, I give thanks for following my instinct to override my desire to stay indoors and head out into the elements.
I’m frequently made privy to conversations where friends share how there are times when they do or say things, not in keeping with their true self, to try to appease others.I can sympathize, for I, too have found myself doing that on various occasions.Don’t we all?
I suppose most wear a variety of “hats,” donning different personas according to who they are with or what the situation calls for.Not that they aren’t being true to themselves…or are they?Can a person be true to himself or herself if they’re adopting mindsets or behaviors that aren’t in keeping with who they really are?And if they’re doing so to appease others, make others feel more comfortable or to get others to like them, is that being honest?
Hmmm…that’s a tough one.On the one hand, it’s inappropriate to dump all of your “stuff” on others.But…on the other hand, don’t folks have a right to know who you are—at your core?Or could them finding out put a strain on the relationship?End it?Or make things so uncomfortable that neither party knows quite how to move forward?
Recently, I’ve had a good number of conversations with friends who did or said things they normally wouldn’t.As a result, each and every one of them ended up feeling as if they hadn’t been true to themselves and were left with feelings of remorse.Each did go back and set things straight, but the feeling of having cheated themselves out of being who they really are—at the time—left an indelible impression on each, causing them to rethink how they will go about things in the future.
I guess it all comes down to choices.We can mold ourselves into the image that others would like to see or reveal tempered reflections of who we are, mindful that some elements of ourselves might not be appropriate to share with one and all.
“A loving relationship is one in which the loved one is free to be himself—to laugh with me, but never at me; to cry with me, but never because of me; to love life, to love himself, to love being loved. Such a relationship is based upon freedom and can never grow in a jealous heart.”
Leo Buscaglia
A friend of mine made me aware of this quote today.I found it in keeping with my beliefs and appropriate for the holiday, so I thought I’d share it.
There are many who do not celebrate Valentine’s Day or feel ultra alone on this holiday—more so than on other days.While comforting some friends today who felt this way, I shared how, to me, Valentine’s day is about considering those who we hold dear in our hearts, not in focusing on those who hold us dear in theirs.
So often, folks get caught up in the commercialism of this holiday or feel compelled to force feelings of love, as if this is the only day of the year when feelings should be felt or expressed.Because of this, many boycott the holiday all together.Me?To be honest, there have been years when I’ve gotten caught up in the commercialism—hard not to.But not this year.This year, I opted to keep things simple—a card for each person with a heart-felt hand-written noted inside, expressing how I feel.Yes, doing the card and heart-felt not on this very day was contrived by a date on the calendar, but, that’s okay, for it allowed me to take a moment in time to reflect on how dear each of those individuals are to me and caused me to want to express such.
