Move, Pitch, Get Out the Way

Posted on by sereichert

Yeah, I did just title this blog that…No, I’m not sorry. Yes, I hope that song plays in your head all day. Yes, it may seem “Ludacris”. Yes, I did just make a dad joke out of it. No, you can’t get a refund, this shit is free.

This is actually a post from a couple of years ago, but oddly enough, I’m headed up tonight to the Wyoming Writers Conference again. And again, I’ll be pitching. So I’ve tweaked a few things but the advice remains solid. I hope it can help you.

Now, on to the blog

This week, tonight actually, I’ll be pitching a novel to a publishing company at the Wyoming Writers Conference in Casper, Wyoming. I know that this should be something I do at least every year but with the past couple of years spent in catching up and starting new jobs, and my creativity taking a giant dump of late, I haven’t had the drive, material, or need to throw myself into the ring.

But, by strange happenstance, the novel that I started at last year’s WWConference in Laramie, turned out to be one of my favorite books. Its a strange blossoming feeling of re-reading it and having it punch me in the gut and make me laugh-cry. I could independently publish it. But…the past years have taught me, that there’s no shame in rejection or in throwing your heart in the ring, especially when you really believe in something you’ve created. So I slammed the breaks down and took a breath. A pause. A consideration. That if the story was “Well written, with a voice we really like” that maybe I should give it another tour around the pasture before sending it out, on my own.

So here I am again, years later, still sweaty palmed, reading and re-reading, and choking on my elevator pitch and changing it a dozen times to get the most depth of the story in the fewest words. And it’s exhausting. The sudden surge of trepidation inspired me go through some of my notes from previous classes and books on pitching. And here’s what I have to offer:

  1. Agents and publishers are human beings. They’ve probably slept horribly, are sore and uncomfortable from sitting, have heard a lot of story ideas, and are probably thinking about the cash bar. Just like you. So don’t treat them like a god up on Olympus by cowering or waving tribute in their faces. Be kind, be polite, and use some of your allotted time to treat them with dignity and respect. They’re there because they love reading and want to find a good story.
  2. Tell them why you love your story. Yes, yes, the general plot, genre, main character and conflict…but what is it about your book that fills your heart. Why do you find a reason to read and re-read it? What were some of the best compliments you receive from your beta readers. Human beings respond to enthusiasm and genuine admiration. Otherwise, we’d never watch baseball. Moving on.
  3. Be organized. Have a synopsis ready, bring a query letter and your business card. It’s been a long day for them and you; stories might start running together and they may need a gentle reminder what the 4:55 pm pitch was.
  4. Be open to suggestions and critique. Whoof, this one is hard, right? After all, we just gushed about what we love in our book. While you love it (or hate it depending on how many goddamn times you’ve had to read it and rewrite it) it is also a good time, before you sit down at that table, to think of your fledgling story like a kid going off to college. Its stepping out into the world to be made better, smarter, stronger. It has a lot to learn, so let it be open to becoming something more and living up to its potential. It isn’t a reflection on you as a parent, it’s a starting point for even more amazing results to come.
  5. Follow up. I’ve sat in the pitch sessions where every agent gave me their card and asked for ten pages. I thought I was a goddamn genius and that they’d be engaged in a bidding war over my book within weeks. Um…hate to ruin the ending there but THAT didn’t happen. Sometimes agents are required by the conferences they attend to receive a certain number of pitches. Sometimes an agent is mildly interested and looking for something to pad up their own resume. Sometimes they’re just bust-ass tired and like a parent giving in and handing their kid a remote cause they just can’t listen anymore, they pass along their card with a defeated…”stay in touch”. That being said, if it happens, act as though it’s the bidding war situation, not the tired parent. Send them what they asked for, in the format they asked for it in, and be respectful with your letter. ALWAYS INCLUDING: your name, that you met at ‘such and such conference’ and that they requested your pages. If you can, PLEASE include some other more personal detail. “It was fun talking to you about your dog, Jasper” (write that kind of thing down on their business card) but don’t make it too personal “I hope your rash has cleared up.” (that’s creepy)

After it’s all said and done a pitch session is like any other interaction introverts dread. You have to talk, somewhat excitedly, about something you love and worked hard on, and thereby risk rejection and public shaming. But please remember that the person sitting across from you is also probably an introvert (or works with a lot of them) and just wants you to tell them a good story.

Good luck out there, and if you’ll be in Casper this weekend for the conference I’d love to sit down and chat about pitches, your book, all the wonderful things we’re working on. Happy writing.

poetry 5-23-2024

Posted on by sereichert
Photo by Kvitka Pipitka on Pexels.com

Gentle Pressure, Applied Ruthlessly

Watch the way, the bouncy ends of the pinyon

waver to every wind blown

see the arch of their spines, the reminder

that the pressure of her breath is constant

and unyielding

She is invisibility and discretion of power

Her presence, ethereal and it seems

mere trickery

until it is applied

day in,

day out,

to the tender aspirations of every tree,

Only then, when they are grown

in twisted sculptures

Leaned away and in piety of her face

do we see the influence

of the wind that raised them

S.E. Reichert

Rediscovering Purpose

Posted on by sereichert

It’s a strange world out there kids. Even if you live under a rock, its hard to ignore all of the things that are currently affecting our lives and world. Massive super cell tornados, vapid and un-checked streaming information, rights being taken away, innocents being bombed, people starving, other’s rolling in stupid amounts of money…its enough to make a conscious person’s head spin.

And mine has been spinning for awhile. And then, even with all of the big picture stuff, looming, you still have to do something about your own, micro world. Your family, your job, your community, your life. Doesn’t it all seem a little too much to anyone else? I worry that if I shrink the world down, I won’t take action when I can to help others. I worry if I get to caught up in the overwhelming outside world, I’ll forget the good I can do with the people I love, closest to me. I’m, as Bilbo once said, too little butter scraped across the bread.

I’m at a retreat this week, helping to keep the thing running smoothly and encouraging this great group of writers in attendance and we’ve been at the mercy of some pretty terrible weather the last three days. The hikes and quiet world-expanding I’d hoped for haven’t happened. I’m shrunken down into my room, my group, and my work and I’m trying to not pull a Jack a la “The Shining”. We can hear our crazy louder and more clear when we’re forced into the silence.

Watching so many of my fellow writers getting work done, and having epiphanies, and making progress has been such a joy. But its also frustrating, because despite being here, and away from the rest of the world, I still feel stuck. I guess when the trap is your own head, it doesn’t matter how much you change the scenery. I’m making lists and doing a lot of the ‘safe’ work of editing and administrative to-dos. I’ve written a few poems. I’ve taken notes on classes. But what I haven’t done is gotten lost in the beautiful alpha state of writing and it’s something that always sweeps me up at a retreat.

Maybe there’s too much responsibility. Maybe I’m just not in the right head space. Maybe there’s a stress level, worrying about everyone and everything else besides my writing. All I know is that I will spare myself some time today and look forward in my own life. Make a list if need be (virgos love lists) of what I need, going forward to recapture my sense of purpose. Not just in writing. But in life.

I hope that you spare yourself some space in the middle of this crazy world today, and do the same. Could you imagine if we all woke up tomorrow, renewed and ready to make this world a little better?

That’s something to set an intention for.

Standing at Attention

Posted on by sereichert

Hello Writers…

I came across this blog from a few years ago. I no longer am blessed to teach Martial Arts (due to some pretty awful happenings at my former dojo and a level of patriarchal bullshit I can’t even dive into right now). But I’ve been teaching a lot this year about creativity and this blog struck me as something that fell in line with the concept. So, without further ado…

Today I’m talking about kids. Particularly the three to eight crowd whom I typically work with in my karate classes. You see, this week is testing week.

It’s the exciting hours when those little bright-eyed darlings bound out on the floor (hopefully remembering to potty first and bow before crossing the threshold of the mats) to ‘earn’ their brand new belt and no doubt bragging rights the next day.

Now heading the school’s instruction team is a stoic former Marine and a stalwart of rules and order on the floor. Absolutely excellent in the face of a rowdy teen or an unsure adult in need of the structure and control.

Absolutely useless and frustrated in the face of the giggling, juggling mass of pent up life force.

And testing time is rarely different.

Though the potential for their future of order and restraint is glimpsed (and I suppose that’s why they come to the school in part) some of the instructors will roll their eyes at the still inadequate control. Meanwhile, I stand in the back and lament the beauty of their childhood being chipped away.

I was told repeatedly that “the Dragons class will eat you alive”. Both male instructors said so, shaking their heads and trying to bury the horrors of such a war. I nodded, in that reassuring way you do when someone has no idea.

Son (I call them son because I’m grow’d up over them by a few good years), I’m a mom. And on top of that, I’m a mom that actually enjoyed the ages of my daughters when I had to staunch nose picking while watching them ping-pong off the couch and sing “Let It Go” at the top of their lungs. Every day. All day. Seven days a week, most nights, and EVERY vacation.

So when those little bouncy balls landed on line tonight, wiggling in their gis until their belts untied themselves, and the jaws of less-seasoned warriors clenched, I glowed. I smiled. I adored and doted on.

Want to know why?

One of the greatest beautiful moments in life is when the life in us cannot be contained in man-made illusions of order. It’s in the misdirection and distraction. It’s the exuberance and unconditional love. It’s all that we lose as we age, either by the weights of life tying us down, or from being told repeatedly to stand straight and stop wiggling.

Ok. I understand that order has to exist. Ask any of the poor souls on I-25 while the uninformed attempt to merge. We do have to learn order and self-control. Or everyone would just live on cake and would never go to work, and we’d get into fights and stray from our taxes… I’m not saying that order isn’t important.

But order imposed on a mind still fluttering like a million startled butterflies in a sunny meadow, is like trying to…well, catch a million startled butterflies in a sunny meadow. At some point. You need to just let go and enjoy the ride and the sunlit flash of pure color. Keep them safe, keep them engaged, and love every odd-ball story and uncontrolled giggle.

I hope you realize by now, that I’m not just talking about kids here. Think about the people in your life, and what it would mean if we all encouraged, especially the adults in your life (You TOO reader), to barrel through it all with a bit more frivolity and joy.

Sometimes we’ve been so long from those two things, that we’ve forgotten how. It’s not so hard to find your way back. Here are some things that may help:

Go barefoot in the grass

Dig for worms, put them back in the garden.

On the way to your car from the grocery store, work up a good speed and hop on the back of your grocery cart…ride it all the way to the car.

Say no. To them. To yourself…to every “how to be perfect” blog or article you read.

Read the comics first and throw the rest of that shit away.

Go for a bike ride with your kids around the block and name your bike like the noble steed it is.

Tell a dirty joke.

Laugh at dirty joke.

Laugh at a fart.

Fart (and pull the covers over your spouse’s head so that they may truly enjoy it…if your marriage is really meant to last it won’t matter. If it matters well…then I’m going to let you think about that for awhile)

Belch in front of your kids, and follow it with a “Holy cow! That was awesome!”

Grab a bowl of lucky charms and watch some cartoons (Teen Titans is my fav these days).

Wiggle

Dance

Sing “Sweet Caroline” LOUDLY out your car window at the stop light. Those who don’t join in or at least smile are to be pitied.

Never say no when a child wants a hug.

Always kneel down to meet them, their perspective is so much better anyway.

Tell people you love them.

Tell them you love them without needing it to mean anything more than just what it is.

Move on.

Forget.

Someday, remember just the good bits, fondly.

You see, kids and older people get what we’ve forgotten. That the beauty of life comes from the dancing in chaos, not the standing still on line.

Still, go potty before you try the standing still…it does help the wiggles.

Transcendence and Indifference

Posted on by sereichert

Sometimes on this blog I talk about writing. Sometimes, I talk about books and poetry, and creativity. I’m going to dip my toes in deeper waters this week, and I hope you’ll join me. I’ve been reading some really interesting books lately. Some of them fiction, some of them philosophy, but all exploring different aspects of perspective, experience, and this strange little existence we’re all trapped in.

Particularly, I’d like to talk about transcendence. Seems pretty hippy-dippy, yeah? Like only those on a first name basis with insanity or theistic religion (one and the same?) may reach this state. Those have been the acceptable formats to use in our ‘modern’ and indifferent current culture to reach transcendence. But what if, every human has the capacity to reach it? And why would we?

Well, ironically, I’m going to ask you how detached you are from technology these days. (I get it, you’re reading this blog–I appreciate your momentary attachment to my words, I hope they do you more good than harm). In our society, indifference, disconnect, and relativism have all formed a trifecta of creating a malaise of ingratitude and apathy. Whoa! Big words, nerd, tone it down…

Okay, so we live in a virtual world most of the time, rarely face to face. We are disconnected from the smaller, more real worlds of our surroundings. When we are face to face, we’re bombarded with the cultural effects of making EVERYTHING meaningful and important so that, nothing really is. We are more concerned with being seen than being known. We contain our worth in ‘like’ counts and ‘views’. We’re overwhelmed with information, but often that information is sensationalized and skewed, so the depth with which it affects us if often akin to a kiddie pool full of mostly piss…. What I’m saying is that our world has shortened our attention spans and hardened our hearts. And that’s a poor state to be in if you want to experience transcendence.

Why do we need to? We don’t. We could live our whole lives without having it. Some of us will. But as a creative, a writer, and a person who gives a damn about the world, transcendence translates to the interconnection of ideas and thought, the loss of self, the exaltation and delight of being truly present in a moment AND simultaneously interconnected with all moments. It helps writers and artists see connections and solve problems. It’s like having both hemispheres of your brain working at the same time.

In the modern world, people are addicted to the feelings of transcendence (joy, exaltation, elation, ecstasy, a disconnect from their lives) and many find it… often through drugs, or alcohol, or falling in love on repeat. Constantly punching tickets for these roller coasters of chemical highs, and depressive lows…Short term gains with long term consequences. It’s the equivalent of taking the gondola up the mountain but not really appreciating the view at the top the same way someone who climbed the mountain does.

See, transcendence (the magical lapse, the alpha state, the eureka moment, the disconnect from our small selves) comes from putting in time. Time on your craft, investment in your art. It comes after working through problems, working past failures and over obstacles. It means letting go of your ego in favor of discipline, to have intense attentiveness to the world around you (not an easy thing to do in the era of the internet), patience, and observation…curiosity. Hands on work, and hours in the seat. It certainly can’t come if AI is writing your story for you.

It probably comes as no surprise that, in our era of entitlement, transcendence is rarely a thing experienced. No one wants to work hard enough to the point that the work becomes the ease. And the process becomes, in itself, a meditation. Building a bridge between our analytical brain and our inspirational intuition takes time, and practice. It takes silence, and contemplation. It takes noticing the world around you. And this isn’t just experienced in writing or artistic endeavors. As a martial artist I’ve understood that its only through intense repetition, years of practice, curiosity and humility on the floor do I attain precise and sharp motion when it is called upon. (Slow to flow, flow to speed, speed to power, power to grace.)

So how do we recapture it? How do we overcome the indifference and work towards this genuinely life-altering experience? I urge you to take pause from the instantaneous solutions and gratifications in your life. Climb more mountains. Do things the hard way. Stop thinking that focused time is a waste, and give yourself a gift of singular-tasks. Don’t give up when things are muddy or unclear. Don’t be afraid to fail, but go on, steadily up that mountain. Practice your craft, even when it means writing your synopsis or your back cover blurb, or that query letter…those are part of the journey. When you skip things, you miss out on more neural connections. More neural connections will lead to “Aha!” moments. Use your goddamn brain and don’t let the screen think for you. Get out of your echo chambers. Meet new people. Take an unrelated class. Read something you wouldn’t normally.

Why bother? Because human experience and potential is fading, right before our eyes. It’s being replaced by a strange and candy-coated lie. A shadow of what we are capable of. Our lives are being played out behind filtered photos and 25 second reels. And that life experience is no place to create from. Dig deeper. Give a damn about your short and beautiful trip. Make it count.

From Beneath A Pile of Tissues

Posted on by sereichert

Good morning, Gentle writers.

I hope that this blog finds you well and in good health. Over the weekend, I acquired a…virus? And what had planned to be an ambitious weekend, filled with a long-run in preparation for a half-marathon, finishing up my latest Vella, and reworking my two-act play, became the sad potato of me huddled in bed. I don’t get sick often. Certainly not the kind of sick that forcibly dunks me beneath the unconscious depths of two-hour naps. I get frustrated when my body does this. At one point, I even took my laptop to bed, determined that I could let my body rest and my mind could still function.

Brains don’t like fevers. That’s what I’ve learned. And the longer and stronger that fever, the less coherent I was. My brain got frustrated with me. It quickly became apparent, right before I was knocked in the head by the flu-fairy with a large sleepy stick, that nothing I wrote in that state would be worth a damn. So…I put my life aside and gave myself the permission to sleep.

Sounds silly, huh? Just sleep when you need to sleep, you don’t need “permission”! But when you’re a mom, and a woman, and a go-getter, and a do-er…it’s about the hardest thing in the world to grant yourself. Especially to do it guilt free. I lost space and time and the kids were just fine. The laundry still got done, the world did not fall apart. How little grace we give ourselves to rest, I thought, in between workshops of unconsciousness.

Know the best part? Besides the tripped out dreams (holy revisiting of homework-being-late paranoia)? I realized how much I really fucking love sleep. I realized how little of it I actually get in my day to day. I realized that I average about 4 hours a night. And that’s maaaaaybe not enough. I realized that after a day of sleeping, the twenty minutes of writing I did get at night was a lot easier to do.

So here’s my advice for the week. Don’t discredit sleep as a writer and a creative. You may be a super lark or a tenacious night owl, but if you’re not getting in the repair work that only sleep can do, not only will you likely catch more colds, but your brain won’t be its wrinkliest. And a wrinkly brain is a…is a…where was I going with this? *checks temp…feels sleepy* The point is, rest helps you rebuild, it also lets your brain play and take a few hours off of the stupid demands of reality. Play for a brain, translates to creativity and more writing for us.

I’m going to go blow my nose and take a nap. Take care of yourselves and I’ll *yawn, sniffle* see you next week.

A Super Secret Guide to Finishing Your Damn Book. Part Three: The Down and Dirty of Feeding Your Creation to The Wolves of the World

Posted on by sereichert

Hello, gentle writer, thanks for surviving that title up there…ahem. Let’s chat, shall we?

I suppose it goes without saying that after you’ve written your book and streamlined it into a gleaming beacon of fine-as-hell storytelling, you could easily stop reading this blog. You may even wish you could. But there is one more thing I’m going to need you to do…

Resist the urge to tuck that book safely away in a drawer.

Unless of course, all you want for your book is for it to sit on the dusty shelves of your den and no other eyes need apply. That’s cool.

We probably didn’t want to read it anyway, right? Your story? The shining soul child of your imagination and hard work? The obsession that’s kept you awake at night and in the zombie zone of blank-eyed stares over your cornflakes, morning after morning, while your brain builds the magnificent steel girdle of plot and your vibrant right hemisphere stretches the skin of detail and beauty across the iron bones to make something quite unique and amazing. Nah…We don’t want to see that. Who would?

Were you able to pick up on that sarcasm? It’s tricky in Cambria 12 font to really capture the essence of my meaning. Here, allow me be to be perfectly direct.

Show me your work! (Channeling Cuba Gooding Jr.—“Show me the Story!”)

It’s quite possibly the hardest thing you’ll ever do (even harder than killing your darlings? Why yes, even harder than that!) Being a writer is a parade of progressively harder choices and leaps of faith…but then again, so is life… hang on to your self-help hats here, she’s getting deep.

Yeah, it is scary. Because we’ve learned well by this point in our lives that when we put so much love and heart into our work it’s gut-wrenching to hand it over to someone who can’t possibly understand the grit and soul we put into it. They might misinterpret. They might not ‘get’ it. They might declare us wrong, or awful, or in desperate need to change our dreams.

Nobody wants to face that possibility. You are not alone in this fear. And let’s face facts; there are jerks out there. Legit, bonafide A-holes. Those that are quick to cut down creative efforts (especially when they get to hide behind the curtain of anonymity in some trolling-Wizard-of-Oz’s mother’s basement.) They LOVE to give a good criticism, because of their own fears of failure and are stung by the twinge of jealousy when someone else is bold and brave enough to create and share.

It’s a sad state of affairs but your work can become fresh meat for the slathering-mouthed, teeth-gnashers of the world.Wolf / Gray Wolf / Timber Wolf - eating White-tailed deer prey

You Are Not Alone. You aren’t the first they’ll try to tear down, and you certainly won’t be the last.

Do it anyway.

Why? Why torture yourself? Because, there are good people out there. People who love stories and story-tellers. People who understand it’s a process and that when you come to them with open pages and hearts, that they are taking on a mantle of trust. Trust that they will be kind, but honest. That they will work WITH you to make the story better. They will point out things you’ve been too close to see. They will point out things they think could use clarification. They will show you the loosened bolts and torn canvas so you can repair your creation. They will point out the beauty, the grace, the delicate details that gave them shivers or tears and it will embolden your spirit to fight for your creature.

Sharing your book is a monumentally important part of finishing your book. It will teach you what you didn’t know about your writing. It will teach you what works, and what needs work.

My challenge to you, frightened artist cowering over your pages like a hunched Gollum in the dark defending a scarred band of metal, is to offer up your precious. The beauty and the joy of creating are in the sharing.

gollum

I’ve had my cut of criticisms, hard and dirty. Mean. Some of them made me wonder if the person had even read my writing or just made assumptions based on my genre and lack of MFA gilding. I’ve wanted to take match and tinder to 8 years worth of my life on the front lawn while screaming profanities in the general direction of certain publishing houses. But I didn’t. I cooled down and let myself say these words to my disgruntled brain.

bookburning

“What are they seeing? What is slowing my writing/impairing my message? What can I change while still being true to my work?”

Opening the wound is to lay your ego out on the ground beside your creature and do the work that needs to be done. This is not an actual child. It’s an idea. And all good ideas can always get better.

Find a group of friends. Start there. Start with those that love you. Move up to those that think you’re decent enough, but aren’t afraid to tell you what they think. Give it to a few discerning hard-asses. Each step along the way, refining and tweaking, without giving up your voice or the elements that make your writing yours. No one can take that, nor should you let them.

So that’s it. The third and nearly final part of this series. Next week I’ll wrap it all up with a handy and bulleted (we all know you love the bullet lists) list of how to query your work to someone who can serve as a gateway into the realm of publishing.

Good luck, kiddo. And if all else fails and you don’t know where to turn with your work, send it to me or another writer you trust. Nobody knows the soul struggle better than your own kind.

Big News and…Less-Big News

Posted on by sereichert

Well, first there’s this…

If you don’t follow me on social media, the big news of the week is that “Raising Elle” was selected as a finalist for the Colorado Book Awards through The Colorado Humanities. The winners will be announced at the end of June. But until I lose (probable) I will crow about it wherever I can. Because I believe in the arts and this is a huge honor. Congratulations to my fellow finalists as well!

What else is in news? Well… I’ll be teaching at a sweet little mountain retreat in May. I believe there are still spots open and its going to be a great way to kick start your next project, or help you overcome the roadblocks you might be having. The Writers Retreat, sponsored by the Writing Heights Writer’s Association is May 6th through the 9th and will feature workshops as well as free-write time. Food and lodging is included, and its really a great deal. Don’t wait, because spots will fill up fast.

Whenever someone asks me how I finished my first novel, it was because I invested in the time to work on it. Time is what a retreat offers you, away from the demands of the day so you can throw your heart into your work. And that’s how books get written. Register HERE.

Hm…also…I will be teaching a few Saturday classes through the WHWA coming up. But even if its not me teaching them, you should attend. Every third Saturday, for a very small fee (free if you’re a member of WHWA-register here) you get two, one-hour classes on craft, business, and writing related topics.

If you have a youth interested in writing, this is a GREAT time to get them signed up for my youth classes (every 2nd Saturday from 1-3. Free, no charge, and fun) we’re working on putting together a book, and the young writers will be paid for their submissions. Check out that website here.

The yearly conference for WHWA is on July 19th-20th and will focus on the other aspects involved with writing, including goal setting for writers, contracts and dealing with copyrights in the era of AI, marketing, formatting, and building up your platform. It should be really helpful for those of you who are taking next steps in the process. You can Register Here and we can hang out after all the braining for a martini or a cup of tea.

In other, lesser news…I’m stalled out on my writing. I don’t know if its a combination of everything else happening in life (kids, pets, surgeries, existential dread, running injuries, feelings of inadequacy, lack of sleep, imposter syndrome, anxiety, depression…lack of fucks to give? disillusionment, loss of romanticism, loss of…will to create anything at all. I don’t even want to make a sandwich) but I’m struggling. I’m trying out playwriting… I’m failing. I think I’ve rewritten the current project (not even complete) four times over and I’m barely making headway… I don’t have a new book ready. I don’t even have any of my older projects done…my current Kindle Vella is…DOA, and I feel like I’m bereft of purpose. So….yeah. Happy week I guess? I keep telling myself it’ll come back. But the snide and growing voice in the back of my head keeps sneering…”what if it doesn’t?”

what if it doesn’t?

Maybe life just goes on. Regardless of what my little nothingness of an existence is doing. Life will go on.

When the Universe Conspires…

Posted on by sereichert

Do you believe in coincidence? Do you think…things just happen, at random and we catch them (or don’t) as they pass, and its simply a game of chance? Or do you believe in that beautiful swirling nebula of fate…a universal design that has an orbit, predesigned.

Lately I’ve been thinking a lot about connections, intentions, and the broader picture of a universe playing busy body in the minuscule lives of humans. Honestly, why would a universe care? And yet…sometimes, things align to a startling degree… It is a fine line between a nagging cosmos, and just good old fashioned human planning. I believe it to be true, that in both cases, our lives and our fates are made. The only thing that seems to muck up my semi-good theories is the addition of the fourth dimension, time. Or rather…Timeliness.

The first truth I know is that when you set your intention on something you want, often, you start moving in that direction. Disclaimer–you cannot simply set the intention. You tell the universe what you’re seeking and then, you start to make active (even if small) steps towards that something. You want to be a great painter, you set up a class. You buy the right supplies, you practice…You want to land a certain job, you research the company, find your matching skills, network… Setting intentions and the small movements you make forward set forth a path in the direction of your dream. Sometimes…it’s a very looooooong game. Like years in the making, and there are times you lose sight of your original intention, or get waylaid…sometimes its something as simple as working up the courage to try something new…baby steps are the key. Baby steps in the direction of your dreams

Secondly, I honestly believe when you put good into the universe, when you give love and compassion, outside of the ridiculous bounds of if someone “deserves” it or not and not for the reason of getting it back necessarily, you are building a nest. A nest of positivity and connection and a safe haven for those around you. Who feel safe coming to you when in need and who feel happy to help when you yourself are in need. Our nests are our families, our friends and our communities. They can be organizations we believe in, or programs that we want to see flourish, but when we invest our time and our love into those things, we are building a safe space for others and ourselves to explore and be supported.

All of these things are within my control, and yours too….but what I don’t get lately is how, on two separate occasions this week, I’ve been able to bring people, all of whom I love and want such good and beautiful things for, together in ways that are symbiotic and purposeful. And this is where that illusive magic of timing comes in. How on that exact day, how in that one moment of action…did everything align?

I think when we set a path and build a nest, things happen in good time. Its nearly always unexpected (I’m not a goddamn fortune teller) but it happens when the conditions (often that we build and foster) are right and the match strikes. And that’s why I believe… that fate and choice are two conspiring lovers, and in seeking out one you’ll never get the whole, but when you take care of the choices you make, the fate will follow.

So go build a nest, give love and compassion freely to all that are in need, pursue your dreams in small steps or large leaps of faith…

Everything will work out. Just like it should.

Poetry 2-22-2024

Posted on by sereichert

I know its still Winter, but these are the gray months that beg my mind wander back to the comfort of knowing Spring will come again. I don’t really know how many more Springs the world has left. It’s all so complicated and teetering on death, isn’t it? We take so much for granted, we kill, and destroy, and maim and use up…as though there is no other fate left us, no generations in our wake that have to live in the wake of our destruction… How ridiculous and short-sighted humans are. We absolutely deserve everything Nature throws at us.

Photo by Alesia Kozik on Pexels.com
Spring Beneath

The shudder of new leaves
arriving to a world 
in its heyday of destruction 
is such bitter sweetness

Life, searching to be, 
striving to find its balance
even when we've already tipped the scales
too far
    for hope

I mourn these spring petals
littering the ground,
beauty fallen to lifeless concrete
and wonder, 
what she ever did
   to deserve us.