It was my intention to have three ancillary tales of clowns ready by today.  However, life gets in the way of living.  I have two completed shorts and the third one is completely outlined and should be ready soon.   

There is a big piece of me that wants to hurry through the third and just get it out there.  But there is a bigger piece of me that wants to do it right and hold it until it's really ready.  

With all that in mind, thinking about intention versus production, it occurs to me that two-thirds is pretty much how I get through life.  And that is not to say that I'm squeaking by in mediocrity.  I think because my intention is so grand, I frequently think I can produce more results than I can.  Instead of being reasonable in the deadlines, whether it is professional or personal, I tend to push time limits and believe I can handle more than I can in a shorter time frame than needed.  

And I sit and tell myself, if life did not get in the way this weekend, I would be finished.   But the truth is, life is a terrible inconvenience. 

Lucille Ball said, "If you want something done, ask a busy person to do it.  The more things you do, the more you can do."  

I suppose I am that busy person who keeps doing more.  So, the two thirds I get done [on time - when the rest gets done reasonably after that], is not so bad.  

Today I read an article about writer, Harry Bernstein who finally was published at 98 .  He destroyed 40 of his manuscripts after being rejected by publishing houses throughout his life and finally got the green light in his nineties!  After four successful publishing deals he passed away at 101 years old.  Knowing about the one-tenth of his work lending itself to inspiration is truly astonishing.

In short, re-evaluating the two-thirds of work I accomplished on time is more than adequate.  It's actually quite impressive [internally].  

Today [and maybe just for today], I'm going to try to look at all the things I complete, instead of those things that are hanging around to be done.  

There are those who experience a trial by fire.  This week, i experienced a trial by darkness.  And in the darkness i realized the circle of insecurity i feed as well as the true value and dependency that others place on me.  Now, i understand these are vague and lofty ideas.  People who know me may have a clue as to what specifically i refer.  Others who know me more distantly may not have a clue and read on to get some clarity. 

Very plainly, the power was out.  My row house was in the dark.  Day one, we barbecued all the food that would spoil.  Day two we did our best to clean the fridge of remaining items.  Day three, everyone (myself included) melted down.  Our affinity for dark and family time did not  quite last  three days.  Now, it pleases me to say that the restore occurred and we are back in the light and all its convenience.

In the meantime though, there were internal as well as external struggles.  Internally, i beat myself up for not caring for the issue before it was a significant problem.  Externally i yelled like the Little Red Hen from one of my favorite books when i was a wee lass.  ("Who will help?" to which the answer is, "Not i.")

Also, during this time, i had a friend reach out to me with that reciprocity of human relationships thing sharing some unsettling news.  After speaking to me, she said very simply, "If you can keep breathing, then so can i." 

Next up was one of my favorite people in the world who is ninety-five years old and still gets up to walk every day, caring for things that i find daunting, fifty years her junior.  And i thought to myself, if you can keep breathing, so can i.

Now it seems a pretty severe thing to think about not breathing any longer, but honestly, with the exposure of writing in a row house, there is the very real feeling i go through of just giving up and not being the burden any longer - not being strong enough to get through one more day of darkness.  And then in the rarest of place and space, someone shines enough light that i can see that the darkness will not last and i do not have to be in it alone.  

Today i was fortunate enough to attend a benefit luncheon for people struggling to light their own homes in all that it means literally and metaphorically.  Again with the stories i heard, i thought if they can keep breathing, so can i.

It is no secret that i suffer from bipolar disorder.  Recently i saw a video with the words, "At least you..."  The video expressed very simply i'm stuck, i'm in a hole, and i feel like poop.  And somewhere in the video it demands never ever say to a person struggling with the grief of depression, "At least you...," because the darkness in which they suffer is enough.  There never needs to be the additional strain that their darkness is not bleak enough.  

But still i think about the Little Red Hen.  She planted the wheat and harvested the wheat, milled it into flour and baked it into bread.  When it was time to eat the bread, she had helpers.  The other stuff had everyone in her life saying, "i cannot help you."  

i realize that the Little Red Hen does the work because no one else will and it must be done.  She wants it done, so she does it.  And when it is time to break bread, she offers the final thing that needs to be done.  She offers the nourishment.  She does say, "No, no, no... i did the work, so i get all the bread."  But this just illustrates the value that she places on her time.  It also illustrates her need to have others in her life.  And she never lost faith that someone would be willing to help her - that someone would be the small bit of light in her darkness even though no one helped her - ever. 

Well, if that Little Red Hen can keep breathing, then so can i.

Lucy Van Pelt is the peanuts character who charged five cents for her psychiatric advice, spat out words of no substance and talked about herself. Her clients walked away from his visits only with the introspective conclusions they drew in their own heads from working through their situation.  
i have these friends, and if i was in middle school still i would call them best friends or some other intensifier that is unnecessary as an adult, because the folks who stick by you when you're at your lowest are merely friends.  the other guys in your life suck - they suck your emotions and your money and your time and anything else you have because they do not really care for the things you care for.  And that is not to say that these suckers are bad.  They just do not care for the same household and the same children or the same struggles that you juggle.   They also have folks who suck from them.  it is the reciprocity of relationships with other human beings.  

Deep breath for the exposure coming.  i save up my nickels for my Lucy!  MY lucy is walking through the same struggles as i with different details.  
i met my lucy through a series of events that may not have resulted in a friendship, but i'm so glad that it did.  My lucy seemed to be the perfect wife, mom and neighbor because when she closed the door to her row home and stepped outside, she put on her smile and offered everything she had to whoever asked her for help.  And it has been my experience that the more you offer, the more is requested.  

Cue '80's style montage with plucky music in the background.  The neighborhood was alive with parents running to local hardware stores, drug stores, supermarkets, and yes, the liquor store; looking for supplies to get through the evening of a 3-D school project that all our children had to complete before morning.  It was a time when ovens broke and we used toasters to bake cupcakes for our kids' birthdays in the middle of the night and when we would call for recipes for a 'quick bbq sauce' because our cupboard was bare.  ("just meet me half way down the street and take mine," after the illusion of making something from scratch is blown!)  But i digress to this school project:  It was bad.  covered in glue and glitter, stacks of the wrong sized foam board that had been measured once but cut twice and tense from listening to the homework child crying because  the project is too fancy and only needs to be a shoe box, when clearly i just saw cupcake man in the hardware store talking about the 'foundation' under the 'decoration' and believe his kid is going to kick my kid's ass in the presentation.  

i'm not sure the next progression of events that found me knocking on my lucy's door unannounced, but i was there, bottle in hand and frustration smoking from my ears.  and she answered her door.  now, this person who had been the epitome of perfection to me, answered her door and invited me in with an apology for the mess in her home.  and it was a mess.  it was a reflection of her family not putting their everyday things away, the school project vomit all over the dining room table and possibly decorations for an upcoming holiday strewn about the house (or was that a different day?) .  But in the mess, this woman apologized, sifted through for two glasses and we sat together and Lucy'ed.  we talked about the things we needed to work out in our heads while communing with one another.  And in the end the school projects got done (for the whole neighborhood) and we woke in the morning having little or no sleep from being up all night with the glitter and glue and got on with our lives.  

Could I have made it through that night without my Lucy?  yup!  without a doubt -what's the alternative, not seeing the sunrise?  Could she have made it through without me being her Lucy?  of course.  

But here's the thing... seeing the perfection in the middle of chaos reminded me that the folks with whom we share our mess are the folks who don't mind so much the mess we bring to them.  They are always there, for nothing more than a nickel.  nothing more than the smallest thing with which we can repay them.  because when they need the doctor to be in, they may have nothing more than that nickel as well.  
I reflect on this night every time i need my lucy or one needs me to be lucy, which happened to be yesterday again.  

The struggles of yesterday become the sunrise of today.  And when there is time, i will turn in my nickels and demand the respite from the mess with my lucy as i expect her to do with me.