If you had ever told me I'd be dissecting my own business plan, figuring out my target market, or trying to write workshops for professional career women ages 25 - 45 with a hefty salary, I'd tell you you've been sniffing the paint too long.

But here I am, sitting on my couch on an end of summer Sunday afternoon in late August and feeling, maybe, maybe I'm close to being at a lift off point with "Workshops by Wolford" and hoping, hoping, hoping I've got enough business, marketing, and workshop information to convince the good and kind loan officer to give me my business loan so I can officially launch this business!

I am nails-bitten-to-the-core excited about offering a series of workshops that deal with turning the daily grind into an adventure and applying the spiritual principles found all over the place in the bookstores, Internet, radio, and TV into our lives no matter the situation!

Something just fell in the bedroom as I was typing this and unless it was due to something Russell, the cat did, I think that was my sign that all is well. All is happening.

Or toppling.

But I am pressing on. "How can I help?" urges me on. I know this is my avenue to help and it will provide me the breathing space to write my stories, too, it all fits.

It's married together.

And now I go back to working on it, the patience to do a good job, and to believe always whispering in my ear along with my dad's words 10 years ago the morning after his death...

"It's all about love, Sheela."



It is.

Who Understands Me But Me

They turn the water off, so I live without water,
they build walls higher, so I live without treetops,
they paint the windows black, so I live without sunshine,
they lock my cage, so I live without going anywhere,
they take each last tear I have, I live without tears,
they take my heart and rip it open, I live without heart,
they take my life and crush it, so I live without a future,
they say I am beastly and fiendish, so I have no friends,
they stop up each hope, so I have no passage out of hell,
they give me pain, so I live with pain,
they give me hate, so I live with my hate,
they have changed me, and I am not the same man,
they give me no shower, so I live with my smell,
they separate me from my brothers, so I live without brothers,
who understands me when I say this is beautiful?
who understands me when I say I have found other freedoms?

I cannot fly or make something appear in my hand,
I cannot make the heavens open or the earth tremble,
I can live with myself, and I am amazed at myself, my love, my beauty,
I am taken by my failures, astounded by my fears,
I am stubborn and childish,
in the midst of this wreckage of life they incurred,
I practice being myself,
and I have found parts of myself never dreamed of by me,
they were goaded out from under rocks in my heart
when the walls were built higher,
when the water was turned off and the windows painted black.
I followed these signs
like an old tracker and followed the tracks deep into myself
followed the blood-spotted path,
deeper into dangerous regions, and found so many parts of myself,
who taught me water is not everything,
and gave me new eyes to see through walls,
and when they spoke, sunlight came out of their mouths,
and I was laughing at me with them,
we laughed like children and made pacts to always be loyal,
who understands me when I say this is beautiful?

Jimmy Santiago Baca

It has taken me five decades to realize MY PURPOSE is to encourage others. Sure I'm great at customer service, public relations, and other career positions, but what I really like to do is to hear of someone's dream or wish and then instantly it comes to me, ideas of what they could do to get closer to that dream. So, here is a test for me, a creative test to see how much the Universe will respond to me putting myself in the position of doing what I love and organically seeing where it will go. I'm also a writer and I am writing workshops, working at a bread and butter job that is harsh, so I am also making courageous moves myself right now in this extremely creative time of shift and change.

Pay $1 for each Reason Why You Should Go for Your Dream. You tell me how many reasons you want for each $1 paid ($10 = 10 reasons) and I will comply. If you are afraid I'm pulling your leg, $1 won't hurt, but I am honestly reaching out and doing this in the hopes it will be excruciatingly fun.

So if you need a nice dose of encouragement and courage (which is what encouragement is after all), please email me at hastingswolford@yahoo.com and tell me what you need encouragement on, pay the $1 per reason to my Paypal account, and I will email you back happily with that many (and probably more) spontaneous reasons why you should give it a try. If you love to do something, you truly should be doing it. I do believe with all my heart that we come to this Earth with a purpose. What's yours? It's also supposed to be what you love.

I'm ready to offer encouragement. I'm already having a blast.

Helicopter skyward
allows a return to breath
beyond hope
a beginning contingent
on path.

The wind is whipping outside, going wherever it wants. The door to my rooftop is slamming. I tied it down so much last time the bolt nearly came off the door (yes, our door needs great attention), so I've just let it fly this time but will buy more rope and put another call into the landlord. Soon the wind will ease down and the door will stop banging.

Going with the flow, I'm going to go with it. Action, too, that is part of it, by swimming downstream where my riches and talents are down there, and that's where I'm headed. That's where I am.

Now as soon as I say this you know my stomach clenches and every bit of my mind rebels. There is the key. How to quiet the mind. But rather than roping it like the wind, I let it calm down, as everything does, must. And if I fall deeply into my creativity and ideas, do the dishes in between, dust, clean the bathroom, and keep jotting the ideas down, the paralysis of fear lessens in my head, and the wind stops, eventually.

This time I'm staying with the core of me. I have abandoned me plenty out of fear and desperation. Here I am again.Watch me ride the wind.

Back in the seventh grade, I got caught jotting down Bob's lyrics while a new and eager teacher chatted on about her trip to Greece and I listened and drifted into my daydreaming, which I know now is my method into creativity. She walked over and picked up my paper, read it to herself, smiled, and set it back down. Words change emotions. Write on.

You know I've been guilty of watching reality shows for as long as they've been churning out, but this recent one about beautiful people (true beauty, the premise is, is within), well, what kind of beauty do the producers have when they trick contestants? I don't care how vain these kids are (I'm getting older, that's right, they're kids to me), humiliating anyone is not very pretty either, inside, outside, all around the town.

God, give us some written shows again! Please!

I auditioned for an editor/writer position with E. Jean's advice site. I met a hoarde of fantastic writers, vying for the same position. That was in late October, some are still there, but I bailed out in early December. I left when I found out that position would be announced on her new advice show being taped, I guess now, or who knows?

I felt the slight sting of manipulation. Sure, these reality show folks must sign release after release, I'm sure, and sure they're reaching for stardom on a shaky platform, but the bottom line is they are people just like the rest of us. They have feelings, too, and after watching just one episode on this reality show on beauty I realized that it's not something I shall watch anymore.

That's because I'm a beautiful person. Or at least trying to be.