Thursday, August 24, 2006

Mourning Joy

Good Mourning, Widows!

From a window in my writing office, if I crane my neck to the left and raise my eyes, I can see the sun parting gray clouds, a promise of good weather, a sign of hope, a reminder I can go to the beach.

Today I share from "Moby Dick," Herman Melville's words:

"Call me Ishmael. Some years ago - never mind how long precisely - having little or no money in my purse, and nothing particular to interest me on shore, I thought I would sail about a little and see the watery part of the world. It is a way I have of driving off the spleen and regulating the circulation. Whenever I find myself growing grim about the mouth; whenever it is a damp, drizzly November in my soul; whenever my hypos get such an upper hand of me,that it requires a strong moral principle to prevent me from deliberately stepping into the street, and methodically knocking people's hats off - then I account it high time to get to sea as soon as I can."

Rye Beach is my watery world. It's where I go to avoid my hypos. What's yours? So what are we waiting for? Let's pick up a pen and write about it.

Today's Mourning Joy is from an author friend of mine, Yvonne Perry.

Fact :

If you yelled for 8 years, 7 months and 6 days, you would have produced enough sound energy to heat one cup of coffee. (Hardly seems worth it.)

Thank you, Yvonne.

And, remember, Widows, we're not alone.

Oh, yeah, and one more thing: Be sure to check out Suzanne Lieurance's latest Press Release.

Suzanne is my writing coach. I don't know what I'd do without her. :)

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