Joy Maker!


Future Focused Coaching

Feelings of great pleasure and happiness equals JOY! Who or what in your life gives you great pleasure and happiness? Be kind and share that joy with others. You never know, your kindness might be the lifeline a hurting person is needing. As always live life FUTURE FOCUSED!


How do you share your happiness?

Future Focused



baby elephant

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Spring Equinox

The Equinox is coming.  The year is turning over – light replacing dark.  This is a time of change – unsettling – stirring.  I have mixed feelings about it – equal longings for the dark days of winter and the bright days of summer – an internal conflict.  It will pass as the year moves forward.

I look at the predicted sunrise and sunset times for next week.  All of the tables and charts state that Sunday is the day when the sun sets nearest to twelve hours after it rises.  All of them say that the Equinox will be on Wednesday.  As usual “science” makes no sense at all to me.  I decide that I will follow my own heart and celebrate on Sunday.

I will make my obeisance to the sun at dawn as it rises over the sea to the East.  Later I will take the seeds from the corn dollies that I made at Lammas and sow them in the hope that I will be able to continue this cycle in the future.  The wheat that I used to make the dollies, was an unforeseen gift resulting from an offering made to the Goddess and the birds last year.  I will also sow other seeds for our small garden on this day – herbs, vegetables and flowers.

I have invited a few dearly loved family members to a meal to celebrate the equinox.  I will make seed breads,  dukka,  a salad with the few fresh herbs emerging –  chive tips, fennel,  some mint which I have brought on in the kitchen.  Chocolate eggs and rabbits  (the latter to represent my favourite animal the Hare,  renowned for her exuberance at this time of year).  If we are very lucky it will be fine enough to light a fire and eat outside.

Already I feel stirrings of joyful anticipation.  Blessed Be.

Questions About The Human Experience~

What’s This All About?
This life is an interesting experiment. Sometimes none of it makes any sense at all to me.
All of the suffering, all of the sorrow, what’s IS this crazy adventure we call “life” all about anyway?
Why should anyone be homeless or hungry, there’s far more than enough!
I entertain the idea that we’re simply little points of energy learning how to navigate and interpret the human experience, but WHY?
The difficulty is that the flesh is so fickle and then you add the mysterious drip drip of hormones and basic human need.
Not to mention those wild emotional spasms that interrupt our youthful merriment. What about those
ongoing spiritual growth spurts…and selfish back slides?
It’s bound to get messy.
Why is one human born into wealth and grace and another born into poverty and hopelessness?
Why do some find love and others search their entire lives and no one kind and unconditional ever once steps into their path and loves them forever? Why must some have so much and others have so little?
Why do some need so much and others need so little?
Why are some hearts soft and yielding while others are stone cold? Why are some children loved while others die of abuse and neglect? Why do very bad people live to be healthy well into their old age, and others that are good and loving die young? Why is there a need for constant struggle everywhere we look?
Why do we have to label ourselves as ONE THING, why must nations war in the name of GOD?
Why can’t we all flow and float, merge and wander, discover and share? Why can’t we ALL play sweetly together like children before they learn the word “MINE” and before they learn to control their joy? Before they develop “sophisticated” thinking. Why does maturity corrupt us so? These are just a few of the things that I think about when I walk across the hills all alone.

Thanks to the Goddess

For the chain of days –

The jewel mornings –

pearl, ruby and emerald,

I thank the Goddess.

For the beauty of bird song,

the wind in the trees,

the swallows on the way to Rhuddlan,

I thank the Goddess.

For the sunlit waters of the Traeth,

the crows in the conifers,

and bluebells,

I thank the Goddess.

For the books I’ve been led to,

the green finches and the nuthatch,

the solace of music,

and the joy of my mornings,

I thank the Goddess


This little kitten was discovered in an old lawn building that belongs to one of my childhood friends. He was found in a cold dark corner alone, his nose was  raw from rooting in the dirt, his eyes were still tightly fused, his umbilical cord was still attached, he was clearly a new born, he was hungry, and he  had obviously been there for a while, but, he was alive.

I happened to call this old friend about two minutes after the kitten was discovered, at the very instant that she was reaching for the phone to call me, they do not enjoy cats (to say the least!)

We have been known to occasionally bottle feed orphan puppies and kittens at our little family pet rescue that we have here in our home in honor of our precious daughter Emmy’s life work and generous, constant dedication to animal welfare volunteerism. Emmy passed away in 2007. Her short life was one of inspirational compassion, she was selflessly dedicated to saving animals at risk from the time she was a toddler up until her passing at age twenty two from a sudden and devastating illness.

This kitten has thrived and she has given me far more than she has taken~This morning she is two weeks old. She is lapping formula from a saucer now between her bottle feedings. Her weight has gone from 4.3 ounces to 9.5 ounces. She will be adopted to her forever home in mid May. She has a wonderful loving forever home waiting for her.

This is true

Hard headed

Stony faced


Bone strong

Bears the brunt

and grinds down

the days


Closer to life


Her hands in

shit, and snot,

and blood –

the stuff of


Knowing her


rests in air

and food and

warmth and sleep.

That she cannot

be severed

from Earth.

It’s days, its nights,

It’s seasons and

It’s tides.

Decay and dark


of her body

will occur.

She moves

toward  them

eyes wide open


These are the

real things.

This is true –


Cold, sharp,

Flint – brained


feels her Self

in pain and


bright joy.

Magically Enhanced

Healthy, capable, able-bodied people can empower themselves to be as magical as they want to be. There is no recipe for living with wonder, hope, and creativity, it is a state of mind.  There is nothing more enchanting than spending time with a soul that has somehow freed itself from the monotony of the ordinary.

Have you noticed their eyes, the magical ones I mean? They have eyes that are lit with fun, fire, and serenity. Looking into those charismatic eyes makes me feel all heated up. I have to stand closer, I am drawn in, I want to touch their faces, and I want to warm myself there next to their glowing eyes and hot flesh.  I want to contract from these golden souls the phenomenon that is lighting that cheerful soul.

Why do so many human beings give their childhood joy over to sullenness by midlife?  We all have within our histories very good reasons to be blue, but, only a precious few can manage to become enthusiastic over what remains. To bask in the glory of the good memories and learn to love more fully from the sad and the bad memories should be our daily invocation.  The magical ones are responsible for their own joy!

Last week there was a warm afternoon that drew me outside. I stood there in my night-gown and bare feet, allowing the warm wind to caress my face and sift through my hair. The scents of springtime were flirting with my memory bank. Fragrant visions whooshed through my mind. Images of my babies playing in the warm breeze danced around in my head, their giggles echoed tenderly across the hills. The powerful thrilling feeling of driving my first car through the country side swept over me then.  Romantic images of being kissed in the rain, being worshipped by the shaky hands of an eager young man teased a knowing smile. I stood there holding the hand of springtime for quite a while. When I walked back inside of the house, I felt magically prettier; romance does that to a woman at any age.

There is sun on the frost across the hill this morning, yet, the little morning birds on the ledge have warm looking feathers. Magical legends are alive and well in this mind and body, oh let me dance in the dirt for I am ever so grateful for the frost, the sunshine, and the dear little birds!

Life is waiting, there are more legends ahead, and I am entirely open to magic, always and forever. My spirit is aroused by the moonlight. I am a hungry goddess twirling and weaving, giving and taking, smiling and laughing with well-lit eyes and warm busy hands.

I have made the conscious choice to live a magically enhanced midlife, so mote it ever be!

The Mother Spirit

The Crone Witch Enlightens, Teaches, Inspires!

 The way of the crone witch is one of great responsibility. She is an elder, it is upon her to teach the old ways, the ways of nature and honor.  She drinks from the chalice of life thirstily, her life blood is freedom.  She dances upon the path merrily, she is unapologetic for her passions. She is set apart from the rest of the world, by her uncanny steadfastness, by her humble gratitude for life, by her hard-earned understanding of the fragile human condition. Her sorrow is her closest friend, for within her sorrow, she has found her joy.

She  casts no scorn, for discouraging spirits never rest. She is mercy in motion. She loves with her whole being, she forgives, always. She ponders the saints and she relishes in goodness. She is rarely surprised at the unceasing wonders of this life. She teaches self-love, self praise, she empowers. She believes that all of humanity are precious spirits clothed in needful flesh, she is awed by the capacities of the human heart.

Her task is to inspire kindness, creativity, and acceptance. She is captured by the great powers of the sacred imagination, she is ever-blessed by simple living for she knows “things” can steal ones very soul.

This earth is her temple, her brief sanctuary until she is called to Summerland. She comprehends that love and compassion are the only jewels in her crown. She is humble in all of her ways, ever willing to learn, to teach, to heal, to be healed.

Blessed is the knowing crone, for she is our Mother spirit. She is love, light, forgiveness, and comfort.

Does Romance Endure?

I have witnessed enduring romance, timeless tenderness, eternal passion, and yes, even unceasing lust, in my life and times. I am especially honored by my recollections of one very special elderly couple.  

For several years, I worked in the home of a local elderly couple as a private nurse. I was often staying there over night.  They asked me to spend my “work” nights in a cozy room, just across the hallway from their extra-large, shared bedroom suite. I had a handy-dandy “baby” monitor by my bed.  My job there at night, was to assist the elderly gentleman during the night with his personal care needs and to help the little woman with her own needs, should any arise before dawn. Each night, the short, round, little man was tucked cozily into his full-sized bed on one side of the large room, with his adult diaper on and his oxygen going full blast. He was always happy, always singing me a song before I went to my room for the night, usually a Tony Bennet selection, and always performed with powerful perfection. The short, round, little woman was cozy as well, ensconced in her matching full-sized bed, only a few feet away from her happy, crooner husband. She was ever cheerful, always kind, night after night, year after year.

They both realized that I could hear every breath and every word muttered in their room. Each night, there was the same conversation, mostly, light and airy pillow talk between the two of them, followed by, “I love you darling, I love you too” then, there were more “I love you darlings, and, I love you too’s” Sometimes, he would sing to her until she slept, or they would share happy memories of their children and grandchildren, then, they would giggle in unison from their perspective beds. Sometimes, she would pad across the room and kiss his face or his hands and perhaps gently rub his back for a few moments. He had a habit of caressing her cheek  for long tender moments.

In my room across the hallway, I would sometimes silently shed tears, big fat tears, that would fall on the book that I was reading and leave salty stains.  I wondered if the great-grandchildren would see those stains one day, and wonder at them? The books I read were from their personal library. I would cry because I knew that his time on earth was short, and I fretted over her coming sorrow. Other times, I would smile to myself and marvel at the ever lasting romance that they shared, at the chemistry that was so evident, even though the flesh, the joints, the bones, the organs, were tired and nearly worn out by now.

I sometimes worked day shift as well, and their behavior was much the same during the day time. I would feed him at the table and she would eat her food by his side and cluck over how much or how little he was eating or not eating, he always smiled at her when she did this. He would break out in song sometimes, and she would run to the piano and play for him. Sometimes, they would turn their special music on, and she would dance and push his wheel chair in little zig zags and circles across the room, he would clap his hands and his face would be as pink as a baby boys face. At those times, they didn’t see me at all, they didn’t feel me on this planet. They were in love and there WAS also lust between them, any fool could see this and feel this, it was as real and as raw as it was when they married, back in 1939.

Those were the times when I would wander to the kitchen for a cup of coffee, and stay in there, until the singing, the dancing and the clapping ceased.

They had been very successful financially, they were well-known, hard-working business owners in town. They were both orphaned as toddlers. They were both from poor immigrant families, they had worked their way to the top in every way.  They were well-respected, and highly honored, long time members in good standing of a snooty “country club” that had turned them down repeatedly when they had first applied. (due only to their middle eastern heritage) They had generously supported the local symphony for many years, as they both loved music so dearly. Their large comfortable home was affectionately referred to as the local “United Nations” as they hosted guests from all over the world regularly in their more public days. Their phone rang constantly with well wishers and loving friends, inquiring as to their health and bell being. Their door was open to any and all, even a local homeless woman was welcomed in their home regularly and invited to eat for free at their business, any time the doors were open.

I thought them to be the only perfect family that I had ever known. Their children/grandchildren/greats, were all succesful and caring, their calls and visits came often.  However, I knew that no family was ever THAT perfect, so, one day, after I had known them for a couple of years, in a moment of quiet intimacy between the wife and I, I asked her this question.

“Lilly, tell me, he seems like the perfect man, perfect father, perfect husband, but, was he?” “Was he a work- a-holic who never watched even one of his sons little league games, or was he an abusive drunk until he got sober thirty years ago, or did he cheat on you when he was young and agile?” “Was it you, were you a bitter, neglected, shop-a-holic wife, or a hungry, unfulfilled wife with a wandering eye?” “Were you addicted to pills, or any other deviant thing that is far short of who you both are today?”

The Beautiful, little round woman, looked at me with earnest sable eyes and smiled. “No darling, none of those things, the man never missed one little league game or even a scout meeting, boy or girl, and oh, how he has loved me, she shivered and rolled her eyes.  She went on, “I too, was a loving, happy, hard-working wife and mother who did an awfully lot of volunteer work for cancer research once the children were older and I had retired from the family business.” (She had survived two bouts with cancer and three strokes in her life) “No, there are no dark secrets, no skeletons in the closet, no bitterness, we just worked, played, and loved each other.”  “We adored those three babies that we had, loved them with all of our hearts, but, we never put the children above our shared love, we made one another our first priority, always, and it has worked out fine, don’t you think?” She smiled a radiant smile then, and I bowed my foolish, unbelieving head, and said “yes ma’am, it has indeed.” (they were married sixty-six years at the time of his passing, she is still alive and still quite joyful, she is still living at home at the time of this writing, she is around age 96 now, she is spoiled and adored, and much beloved by her doting family. Last year in fact, I was her traveling companion on a five generational family vacation)

My Special Place!

Allegory of the Five Senses

Let me take you to my special place,
where no mortal has gone before you.
My sanctum sanctorini, full of poetry for all the senses!
To that twilight stage, where shadows doubt themselves.
I shall paint you landscapes of iridescent incredulity,
with manna tumbling from the skies, to nourish all.
Let me show you dewdrops filled with sheer happiness,
In the land where tigers lick newborn lambs´ fur
to a shiny whiteness, smiled upon benignly by the ewes.
Where all nature´s creatures sing of simple joys
and where the laughter of babies is sacred!
Where in all humility, I can offer you my fragile heart,
without fear of it breaking…
Where strength is measured in kindness.
I shall take you to the nuptial hammock,
spun out of angels´ patience,
with pillows filled with tenderness.
There to consecrate our bond and graduate to even higher planes!
Art thou, my twin-in-joy, prepared to take the step???

The Famous Willow.

A magnificent mature Weeping Willow tree, take...

The Weeping Willow sheds its tears,
As it has now for many years.
It laments its woes to the Pond,
That lies and sighs there… beyond.

Beyond the sharing of these two
Is something essential for me and you:
For all its tears… each and every spring,
Doth the willow bud, blossom and sing!

And the drip, drip, dropping from Willow
Falls into Pond’s welcoming pillow
Who looks upon her as a friend
And will stand by her till the end.

Such shared hardships have formed a bond
Between Weeping Willow and the Pond.
And though Weeping is her given name,
t’Is her springy joy that spreads her fame!

P.S.: I have always had a great fondness for these majestic trees and can not for the life of me understand why they are called this. In me springs a well of happy thoughts at the sight of one, especially when reflected in a pond!