On My Way

Every day, I deliver to folks who represent all walks of life; their income levels, ages, and backgrounds drastically vary. And of course, everyone is experiencing random stages of life, dealing with different responsibilities -- work, family, internal battles, injuries, successes, failures, setbacks, losses, and on and on, ad infinitum.

One moment, I meet retired folks who need assistance bringing groceries into the kitchen. In the living room, I notice a beautiful grand piano. The next, I come across a family with ten children, some of which are on the way to school, and three of them help me unload the groceries. Third, a man in a wheelchair greets me at the door. Later, an elderly lady laughs about the wine she ordered. In a back room, I spot shy, long-haired, little girls wearing dresses and fancy glasses. And finally, at the end of the day, a toddler waves at me from the window. She's beaming, excited about the strange, seemingly magical visitor bringing "presents." Certainly, I make a tiny Santa, but I think I'd be a good one.

I spy cats, fish and sometimes, horses, goats, chickens, and miniature ponies. Once, an owl. I've heard hawks, roosters, alarms, fire trucks, police cars, laughter, eerie quiet, and fiery arguments. In one part of town, people often drive golf carts and exercise outside in the middle of the day. Children ride bikes and scooters. Sometimes, preteens wander around in twos or threes. In another part of town, no one is outside. The doors are shut. The window air conditioners are dripping on the porches. And down the road, a woman and her newborn greet me at the fountain in front of their mansion. I see couples without a car and couples with five car garages. I notice trees, sculptures, vehicles, people on porches, the colors of houses, the animals, the quiet, and the noise.

I see it all. And the dogs...

One time, a woman opens the door, and two Dobermans appear, one on either side of her. While I unload the groceries, they don't bark, move, or growl. Simply, they look at me. That's it. Another day, I deliver to a farmhouse, and a Rottweiler is furiously gnashing his teeth, barking at me. Luckily, he's on a rope. Once, I knock on the door, and an enormous, female Pit Bull tears out of the apartment, bolting straight toward me. She jumps up on me and licks me. And still another day, I drive up to the house, and I happen to leave my driver's side car door open. When the customer opens the front door, a German Shepherd runs outside and jumps into my car, ready for a ride. And the funniest of all -- one time, when the customer opens the house door, an enormous, tan/white dog escapes. After I make the delivery, I drive around the neighborhood, find the dog, and he jumps in my backseat. And so, I circle and take him back to the house. Afterward, whenever I see him, he shows an interesting absolute adoration for me. When he sees me, he can barely contain himself. I have luck with the animals; they seem to like/accept me. I know when to keep a distance, but there are many surprises.

People often mention injuries or health problems. That's probably the most frequent topic. But many days, they never appear. I just deliver, see a glimpse of the house and maybe, I'll meet a dog. I've been to some houses hundreds of times, and I've never met the folks, but I've met the dogs. How bizarre.

Strange. I flicker in, flicker out. And then, I'm on my way again.

I am a person who likes to move. Even when I'm writing, I'm moving...my mind is moving, that is. This is the perfect job for a person like me, but I barely make enough to get by. I love it, I do. Of course, there are bad days but mostly, I love it. And I especially adore cracking up with all of my friends in the stores. It is a good transition for me. 

See, this isn't going to last forever. I have health issues to consider, and I have to make some different moves, due to losing health care soon. I have no idea what's next for me, but I hope my efforts prove to be something that will sustain me in this mess we call an "economy." All around, people are struggling. For the masses, the salaries don't match the cost of living, not even close. And the health care doesn't match the need. Far from it. 

Moment to moment, I never know. I take it all in. And then, I come home, and I consider how I could be any one of these folks that I meet. Or I think about this:  maybe I have experienced all of these lives before. Or maybe I never have. Maybe we're here once, and there's one shot, and we never return.

The mystery of it all. The strangeness, the unique aspects of human life.

How we struggle, how we rejoice, how we carry on. The similarities are striking. We all have to make different moves. We all struggle and rejoice. We all face trauma. We all have financial issues. We all have health problems. And we all have times of "losing everything" and times of "beginning again."

And as far as I can tell, amidst the hustle, beneath it all, we all have curious hearts that long for the exact same feeling; that is, a feeling of peace and love.

I am on my way somewhere. And so are you.

Love to you,
C.A. MacConnell

P.S. If you like this, you'll like RECOVER WILDLY. Check out my author page too. <3

Good Enough

There is a clear moment that stands out in my mind. I was seventeen, wearing jeans and a T-shirt, sitting on top of the thick, white comforter on my bed, wishing it was red. Mentally, I was beating myself up. I felt extremely ugly, lost, lonely, and lacking in every area. I wanted to cry, but I was too angry to cry. It felt as if the crying was stuck inside the center of my chest, boiling.

Like every other day, I dreamed about Gem Twist, a grey, and Big Ben, a chestnut, two champion horses -- jumpers -- whose photos were forever frozen in my mind. I thought that if I imagined hard enough, they both may appear in my room. How I wished to be their riders. How I longed for the skill, the opportunities, the prestige, and the winnings. The admiration, yes. I longed for that attention so much that it literally burned inside of me.

Every single day, I practiced. Through blisters, the scorch of sun, the hail, the storms, the clear days, the setbacks, the ribbons, the falls, the back pain, the work, work, work, I practiced. I skipped school to practice. I was at the barn on Christmas.

There was not one day in my childhood that I didn't think about this dream. I don't think there were even many moments when I didn't think about it. It was always inside me, lurking there, pushing me to keep going, get better, and compete. More, more, more.

Dreams are wonderful. Horses are wonderful. And so were all of my friends at the barns -- both human and animal. Ah, and all of the cats and dogs and snakes and mice, everything. Wonderful. Spider webs, dust, hay, shavings -- I loved it all.

But...there was also not one day in my childhood that I felt like this:  good enough. I'd be champion at a show and then, I was focused on the next show. I'd have a bad show, and I'd want to bury myself. I'd achieve a new goal, and I couldn't enjoy it long enough to celebrate the moment. Nothing filled me. No ribbon, no applause.

I never felt good enough.

And as I write to you right now, I'm realizing that even if I were riding Gem Twist, and I was champion in all of the world, I am sure there still would have been that gnawing feeling of "not good enough."

That moment...sitting on my bed, not even the comforter was good enough. Inside, I was a terrified little girl who felt unloved, and my whole world was dark. I used winning or losing at shows to balance my emotions. 

I had absolutely no idea that real, true victories happen on the inside.

Some years later, I got sober, and I began to learn about all of this. But I still remember that hole in my heart as if it were yesterday. And sure, it comes back sometimes.

But I know that I am good enough. I always was. I didn't need ribbons or a fancy horse. I missed out on many beautiful moments because of my obsession with wanting more.

I am good enough right now.

Of course, now I have dreams that involve my books. I'd love to see them become movies. I'd love to sell millions of copies and touch the hearts of folks all around the world. But I have to be careful not to see it as the culmination of my life's worth. Because who I am is what fills me, not the idea of more, more, more.

Indeed, it's important to take action to improve one's life, but there is a balance here. And so, I promote some, I continue to write, I hope and wish, sure, but in this moment, I ask myself, "Did I make someone laugh today? Where could I have done better? Did I feel good in my heart today? Did I spread this goodness? Did I show folks love? And right now, how do I feel in relation to my character?"

I feel good about it. I feel proud of my five authentic books. I feel good about creating songs in churches. I feel good about cracking folks up in the stores today. I feel good about getting food to a family that doesn't have a car. I feel good about this essay. 

This is the stuff that radiates outward -- laughter, love, creativity, joy, and connection, the daily practice of touching others' souls. Today, I met a sweet Doberman. How random and how beautiful. We shared a divine moment.

I have come a long way from that seventeen-year-old girl who was so desperately alone and trying to fill that never-ending hole inside. Nothing would have sufficed.

So, after thinking over my day, I shot out a few emails about giving talks and having book signings. And I messed around on social media. But that wasn't the focus of my day. What is the focus of my day?

You.

Love to you,
C.A. MacConnell

Square Puddle, Where the Bridge Used to Be

 
Square Puddle

Where the Bridge Used to Be

Hey there. Just some little gems I took today. Not very often that you see a perfectly square puddle, ha. The other used to be a bridge but now, there is only blank space between. It's actually a lot higher than it appears in the photo. I was up high! So, the look of it is deceiving.

I have been celebrating the day, just because recently, I've done a lot of hard work in my recovery, in my deliveries, in my writing life, the whole gamut. So, I bought myself some presents -- some earrings, some T-shirts, and a new backpack. It was super fun. Something I rarely do, as I'm not a fan of shopping, but I decided I needed to "spruce up," and the money went to the park, so that was cool. Win-win. The earrings are honeycombs and mushrooms. :) I just tried on the honeycombs, and I was loving them. You'll be seeing them often, haha.

This writing on this ridiculously ancient blog site is nothing like my fiction. Last night, I started reading THE HOUSE OF ANCHOR for the first time in a long time, and I ended up reading 100 pages. After I finish a book, I usually don't revisit it, ever. The idea is terrifying to me. I've heard actors say a similar thing...that after they do a movie, they don't want to see it. I get that! But, for some reason, I decided to pick the book up last night, and I got hooked on my own story. Hilarious. While I was reading, I even smoked a bunch of cigs like they're doing in the book. At a certain point, I was like, oh man, it's easy to get lost in this sucker. Seriously, it's so good. Check it out. When I'm dead, I'm sure someone will pick it up and the genius book will sell millions all over the world. Hahaha.

It's so good, just saying.

All of my books are incredible. You can find them all on Amazon now. Here's my author page. They are all designed, created, edited, and written by me. Entirely a solo effort. And no AI, no way. 

As I've said, I'm working on moving forward with some talks for RECOVER WILDLY:  DAILY SPIRITUAL ESSAYS FOR SURVIVORS. I've done one such talk already, and it was really rad. I'm hoping to really expand on that, as I love to speak, and I'd be thrilled to share my experience and help some folks.

That's the goal...we're in this together!

We all have amazing stories, don't we?

Now, I hope to see you soon. I can't wait to show you my T-shirts. They're rad. I'm debating getting glasses again. I've now bought three pairs and returned three pairs. I am so stubborn. ;)

Have a great evening. Love to you,
C.A. MacConnell

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