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Welcome to Sunday Morn Musings.  This is my weekly free fall – writing about whatever it is that occupies the mind on a Sunday Morn.  The idea of a “no topic” posting is the stepchild to a blog I used to write:  Four O’Clock Thursdays which is still up there if you want to check it out – more likely, I will republish some of those posts here over time.  On Sunday Morn Musings the topic may be about blogging but just as likely it may not.

In a recent conversation an interesting thought was lobbed to the small group of us.   We all professed to enjoy reading.  Everyone had their favorites.  Then someone said that yes, he liked to read – a lot but had recently moved away from spending as much time on reading as he had before.  Why?  Because someone else had said something to the effect that if you spend a lot of time reading, you are reading someone else’s thoughts, their ideas, that your own thoughts and ideas are fashioned by that of others and that you do not, therefore, think for yourself.

Now there’s an original thought – at least it is the first time I heard it, so to me it was original.  At first blush it seems to make sense.  But on closer examination, does it?

Just how original is anything?  It is said that there is nothing new or original under the sun, just interpretations, applications and adaptations and what we do with or how we put to use that which is not new at all.

I love reading.  Always have.  Fairytales and fables were a favourite staple of mine in the early years of schooling.  I think I learned to speak English much faster because I learned from something that I enjoyed.  The stories were rich in imagery, the language simple.  It seemed to me at the time that anything was possible and even though I was keenly aware that these were just stories, it was easy to take on the role of the hero or heroine of the story.  In short, they lit a fire in my belly.

One of my teachers in grade three was Miss Natalia.  She was one of the few lay teachers the school had and we children just simply adored her.  She was at once beautiful, smart, and because she did not wear a nun’s habit, relatable.  Her job was to teach us how to write proper sentences and perhaps we may have even gone to writing paragraphs at the time – but certainly no essays as yet.  At the end of the year she gave each of us a book, a different one for each child.  How she decided on the book I don’t know, just that she must have given much thought to each choice.  Mine was Lorna Doone, by Richard Doddridge Blackmore, first published in 1869.  According to Wikipedia, it has never been out of print.

Every summer we escaped the sultry heat of Yokohama and spent the months with my grandparents in the mountainous resort of Karuizawa. That year I took my book with me and over the course of two months read and re-read this classic tale of romance, intrigue, collusion, treachery, war and finally victory by the right, the good. Of course the hero and heroine lived happily ever after!  I was hooked.

From then on the local library became a weekly destination for me.  I went there every Saturday after completing my chores to return books and borrow new ones.  I got to know the librarian very well and she always had some suggestions.  She introduced me to magazines and other genres of writing such as mystery, adventure and science fiction.  As the years tumbled one after the other, if the library was not busy, we would even spend some time talking about a special article, or an author. That along with what I learned at school fashioned my thinking, which, according to the observation of my colleague’s friend above was not mine at all, that perhaps just plain brainwashing.

Hmmm.  Is none of us brainwashed?

But what if instead of brainwashed we used another word?  Schooled?  Well informed?  Knowledgeable?  Expert?

Ah, the beauty of semantics.

It seems that at different times in my life, a different read presented itself.  When my children were toddlers there I was immersed in fairytales again reading tales of Snow White and Puss in Boots and such at bedtime to my children.  Simultaneously my children and I were introduced to Dr. Seuss and Maurice Sendak whose iconic book Where the Wild Things Are particularly endeared itself to my son.

Raising a family and eventually working outside the home left little time for personal reading, at least for books.  I found that I could snatch an hour here and there and that was plenty for reading articles in magazines.  My favourites became The New Yorker, Harper’s Bazaar and Vanity Fair – god, once again I fell in love, this time with Vanity Fair.  At first I dismissed it as yet another T&A publication on  the magazine stands – certainly the covers do nothing to dispell the casual observer from this initial dismissal and it does indeed share shelf space with other magazines of that genre.

These days I have time to read books again.  They are not always literary tomes – in fact, hardly ever are.  No, these days I am more likely to have my nose immersed in the pages of How I Made My First Million On The Internet by Ewen Chia, or F.U. Money by my friend Dan Lok.  I also like to read anything by Malcolm Gladwell. I have all his books.

Malcolm Gladwell was first thrust into the limelight with his best seller The Tipping Point.  I don’t necessarily reach for best sellers, they are often nothing more than the end result of a well conceived and orchestrated marketing campaign – but might we, internet marketers take a page from that observation?  Nevertheless, pick it up I did. Immediately I was mesmerized by this author.

There was something completely different about Malcolm Gladwell.  His writing style wasn’t exactly riveting.  Paragraphs run on for in some instances a whole page and often I found I had to reread something to get the gist of it.  No. It certainly wasn’t his writing style that captured my attention, it was well, that he was different.  He did not think like most.  Like an engineer or a scientist, he looks at things and sees what others do not, but unlike engineers and scientists he writes in a layman’s language, so even though his paragraphs may be cumbersome at times, they are completely understandable.  Malcolm digs deep, questions everything, presents his point of view without necessarily being judgemental.

So what has this got to do with independent thinking or the lack of it when all you do is read what others write?  I am currently reading Gladwell’s What the Dog Saw.  It is a collection of his original essays that were published in The New Yorker Magazine where he has been a staff writer since 1996.  Each chapter is such an essay.  I read one here and there, in between my other readings.  I like them because they are thought provoking and as such need time for proper digestion.

This morning, before sitting down at the computer to write this post I read the chapter “Something Borrowed.  Should a charge of plagiarism ruin your life?”  Ironically it is about originality and just how original is original.  He talks about copyrights and stolen intellectual property.  It is far too complex to discuss here, but essentially, we come back to the saying that nothing is new or original under the sun so indeed, if we read just what others write, do we think for ourselves or do we just parrot that which has been ingrained in our sponge like brain?

I think that it’s both.  Reading what others write opens up horizons.  Moreover, the more we read the more likely we are to run into opposing opinions which then hopefully, engage our brain into thinking for ourselves.  At the very basic, while I enjoy reading the articles in Vanity Fair, I do not always agree with the slant taken on the topic by the journalist.  I acknowledge that a journalist is not devoid of subjective content and has earned his or her stripes to be so, having graduated from being a reporter to that elevated distinction of being a journalist.  So to bastardize Nitzsche’s “I think therefore I am”, I’ll say that “I disagree therefore I am independent”

Of course our values and philosophies have been fashioned by much in life, that what we read being just one of them.  But if we were to subscribe to everything we read, we would be mere robots making no distinction between the different washings that our brains undergo

… or how else would you explain  the Malcolm Gladwells of the world?

Vancouver swathed in night light show. Photo courtesy of Chrissy Graham.

Welcome to Sunday Morn Musings.  This is my weekly free fall – writing about whatever it is that occupies the mind on a Sunday Morn.  The idea of a “no topic” posting is the stepchild to a blog I used to write:  Four O’Clock Thursdays which is still up there if you want to check it out – more likely, I will republish some of those posts here over time.  On Sunday Morn Musings the topic may be about blogging but just as likely it may not.

I am watching these Olympics with greater interest than I ever have in the past – I mean, hey!  We’re the hosts. As I watch the different events I have come to the conclusion that the world athletes, just like the rich, are definitely different from you and me but maybe not quite in the obvious ways.

Of the events that I have watched some of the most iconic moments to me are the images of the athletes when they’ve nailed it.  Watching Alexandre Bilodeau slicing through the moguls to Canada’s first gold on home turf was special but what I really got a kick out of is the way mogulists’ (is there such a word?  No? ok. There is one now) knees are well so bobbly, like those bobble dolls that people put on their car dashboards.  So mogulists are different from you and me because they got knees that are different from yours and mine and when not shushing down mountains they hold secret day jobs riding in cars perched on dashboards and pretending they are dolls.

Is that a bird?  Is it Superman? NO!  It’s Shaun White!

I have also developed a new level of respect for the sport of snowboarding.  Yay for Maelle Ricker as she clearly led the pack to her gold, but the one that had my eyeballs glued to the screen was Shaun White.  I had no idea that a human could defy gravity to that extent.  Shaun’s snowboarding specialty is in the halfpipe.  If you haven’t seen halfpipe snowboarding take a look at this video  Shaun White Vs The World – Olympic Halfpipe Countdown

Being at the top of his game, Shaun pulled  in a cool $8M in sponsorships  last year.  Red Bull, one of his sponsors, built a private Halfpipe run for him up on the mountains in Colorado – the only way to get there is by helicopter.  That makes Shaun both rich and a world athlete!  Up on two counts.   Halfpipe Olympians are different from you and me because they have nerves of steel and are the secret love children of Superman!

I just don’t get the whole bobsleigh, luge and skeleton sport thing.  It is a sport that is played – one usually “plays” sports, but I use the word loosely with the greatest of literary license I am sure – on a spiraling  refrigerated track with curves that would make a grand prix driver blanche with fear,  from mountain top to bottom.

At least the bobsleigh riders are sitting in a sled with sides and the driver can manipulate the runners but in luge and skeleton there is precious little between the body and the track except a thin slice of fiberglass with fixed handles – luge the athlete goes feet first, skeleton is head first.

Bravery?  With all due respect to the athletes how about nuts?  Speeds get up to 160 KPH – that’s a hundred miles an hour!  On nothing but a slice of fiberglass!  And they steer with their feet or shoulders!  These guys and gals are just different.  Period!  It’s not about nerves of steel, its more like a brain disconnect with body and reality.  Yup! Truly,  they aliens from another world so of course they are different from you and me!

Of course I enjoy watching all the typical winter sports especially the downhill racing and the figure and speed skating.  But I have to tell you, the three I just wrote about held me in an absolute trance.

To Your Own Difference!

Valentina

Welcome to Sunday Morn Musings.  This is my weekly free fall – writing about whatever it is that occupies the mind on a Sunday Morn.  The idea of a “no topic” posting is the stepchild to a blog I used to write:  Four O’Clock Thursdays which is still up there if you want to check it out – more likely, I will republish some of those posts here over time.  On Sunday Morn Musings the topic may be about blogging but just as likely it may not.

Valentine’s Day! Gung Hay Fat Choy! Smell of Gold!  Carl Orff’s Carmina Burana playing in the background. … more like odds and sodds today.

Happy Valentine’s Day
Valentine’s Day!  Images of lace and hearts and chocolates and flowers and lovers and  poor ol’ Charlie Brown with nary a card … and then last night between surfings on the telly, veiled muslim women in black burning cardboard hearts and cards as a hateful infiltration of western culture upon theirs.  Whatever.

It is my birthday this week.  Yes I am a February child.  An Aquarius if on the cusp, but an Aquarius nonetheless.  No.  I was not born on St. Valentine’s day.  I was christened on St. Valentine’s Day … whoa!  If my birthday is still to come how could I have been christened today?  I was not.  Stay with me.

My background is Russian.  I am Eastern Orthodox.  When the rest of the Christian world moved from the Julian calendar to the Gregorian, Russia’s Eastern Orthodox did not –  that is why the Russians celebrate Christmas on January 07.  It is the custom in the Russian Eastern Orthodox to christen children on the feast of the saint for whom they want to name their child so St. Valentine is my patron saint.  My friend Cheryll gave me an early birthday present:  Red Mitts!

Gung  Hay Fat Choy
That’s Happy New Year in Chinese.  Yes, today is also the Chinese New Year.  Enter the year of the Tiger.  I looked up the Chinese Zodiac to read up more on the characteristics of this sign.   The Tiger is said to be lucky, vivid, lively and engaging. Another attribute of the Tiger is his incredible bravery, evidenced in his willingness to engage in battle or his undying courage. Western counterpart zodiac sign: Aquarius (not to be confused with your own Chinese Zodiac sign based on your birth year)! Hey!  I like that.

A few weeks ago I was enjoying a feast of delicious dim sum with my friend Lee at one of the many Chinese restaurants in Richmond.  He was off in a week to Malaysia for a month or so to visit with his family.  Eventually our conversation turned to Valentines.  He told me that the Chinese have an equivalent and it falls on Chinese New Year’s day which this year coincides with St. Valentine’s.

Chinese history goes back over 6000 years.  Centuries and centuries ago, men and women did not mingle.  As in so many other cultures men went off to hunt and fight wars to provide for their families and keep them safe.  Women stayed at home. There was little opportunity for young men and women to meet except for New Year’s day.  It was decreed back then that men and women should be out together to welcome the new year.  Lee told me that that was the one day when boy meets girl stories were born.  That tradition is still carried on today … if from a somewhat different perspective.

Olympics
Day three of the Olympics. The podium has honored athletes from eleven countries so far with their wins.  Plenty more to come.  Earlier in the week I had the pleasure of seeing Chris Farstad speak at my monthly real estate MasterMind Group.  Chris is a former bobsleigh Olympian.  He competed in Albertville and Lillehammer Olympics.  It was interesting to hear him speak about how the athletes are feeling right now.  He knows. He was there.  But then he told us something that shocked me – he took us back to when he was competing.  Athletes when interviewed always put on a positive face for the cameras and the press, but back in the athlete’s village, when alone speaking with each other in hushed tones they whispered the unspoken and that was  that they did not believe in their heart of hearts that they were good enough to win.

Not believing is the kiss of death.

Coaches bring out the best in an athlete but they have not been where the athlete wants to go, they do not know what it is like to rub shoulders with your competitors, to face the moment of truth whilst staring down a slope, stepping on the ice or skiing cross country with rifle in hand to aim and fire.  Neither have sports psychologists.  In the eyes of an athlete talk and training are cheap in the moment of heat.

Not any more.  In addition to coaches and sports psychologists, athletes now have a mentor, a former Olympian who has felt the adrenalin rush before the run, smelled the octane fuel of victory, had feelings of doubt and dealt with them.  They have been exactly where today’s athlete is and where he wants to go and are able to talk them through the walk.  He thinks that this will have made a difference to Canada’s athlete’s this year.  Yeah!  They’re a gutsy lot and I love them all.

Carmina Burana?  Every Sunday as I write my musings, I have the CBC FM on.  The music is most often spiritual.  It is right for a Sunday morning.  Today it is Carmina Burana, which is strong in sound and heroic and victorious.  It has been a favorite of mine for a very long time – today, I think it is most appropriate;  for the athletes: yes,   for you and me: absolutely!

Sun is bright.  Over and out.  Have a great day!

Valentina

Welcome to Sunday Morn Musings.  This is my weekly free fall – writing about whatever it is that occupies the mind on a Sunday Morn.  The idea of a “no topic” posting is the stepchild to a blog I used to write:  Four O’Clock Thursdays which is still up there if you want to check it out – more likely, I will republish some of those posts here over time.  On Sunday Morn Musings the topic may be about blogging but just as likely it may not be.

As I was doing my blog rounds this morning, I came across a comment on Website In A Weekend The topic of the day’s post was on being “done” with something … you know, like a plumber goes and does his job and at the end its done.  No more planning, continuity, fine tuning etc.  The comment that got my attention was this one:

That’s why I like doing dishes. when they’re done they’re done…clean, dry, and warm.

Carlos is a wicked blogger. He’s brand new to the game – or at least his blog Conscious One is and he knows a thing or two about life… but Carlos, darling, sweetheart, have you never heard of that old and now hackneyed saying “a woman’s work is never done?”  … back in the oooolllldddd days, men would not be caught dead anywhere near a sink let alone doing the dishes!  I know, times have changed.

That comment brought up an image of residual.  You know how we all want to have a residual income where you get paid over and over and over for doing something once.  Authors and movie stars come to mind as the obvious candidates – they get money dropping down to their bottom line every time a book sells or a movie is viewed, at least while the royalty legal is in effect.  A residual or passive income is what blogging for money is about.

But residual dishwashing?

Yeah, yeah, yeah!   I know you don’t get paid over and over and over for doing the dishes once, in fact unless you are the dishwasher at a restaurant you don’t get even a measly dinero for your effort no matter how often the dirty deed is done.   No, what I am thinking here is that doing dishes is like residual work – you get them done and put away nicely into the cupboard and like magic, there they are again, all dirty and smudged with sauces or residues of a meal, and they need to get washed again!

I have noticed in our household – all two of us, so I know who the culprit is and it is not I – that not only do the dishes need daily attention, but they even have this nasty habit of just collecting in the sink!  Huh?  I mean, how hard is it to put them in the dishwasher?  OK … ongoing domestic issue which I won’t get into here.  Ohhh, and while on the subject, once they do get into the dishwasher and get all suddsed up, scrubbed clean and dried who is it that eventually empties them and puts them into their nice little spaces in the cupboards?  Hmmm?  Hmmm?  It is not he I guarantee.  Oh, slightly off topic here, not meaning for this to become a rant (just don’t get my hackles up) or air my laundry in the blogosphere.

In fact this kind of residual work is the least rewarding – at least it is to me.  The results are fleeting at best.  Hardly the sort of motivational material that the feel good gurus go mining for.

Same thing with cleaning.  Vacuum.  Damp mop the floors.  Clean the bathroom!  Oh the list is endless.  Now I know, that there are actually women out there who claim to love to clean house.  There may even be such men, but I have never met one while I have heard with my very own ears, these most strangest and foreign of words “… I love cleaning my house….” drop from the lips of a woman.  More than once!  Yes.  Honest.  I have heard these very words even from friends.

There is something wrong with this statement.  Upon hearing that one of my own circle loves to clean, of course I immediately step up to the plate and offer her more happiness – my own house for her to clean.  You would think that anyone who LOVES to clean would jump at the opportunity to do more of what she loves so I really don’t understand the why of the painfully withered look that I am subjected to with nary a word of explanation for the contorted muscles on her face.

Now take doing the laundry … puhleeze, someone?  The laundry basket is a perpetual source of clothing, surely it can’t be just ours, I mean there is only the two of us and since my wardrobe takes me from morn to noon to night there isn’t a whole lot of changing going on (such are the blessings of a stay at home blogger) – obviously it is HE!  AGAIN!

And they say that women are clotheshorses!  Weeelll…. ok, in my previous corporate life I had a vereeee nice closet filled with clothes destined for certain “jobs” but that may be a post for another day. But with a Blog Income Life business, drop dead gorgeous suits, silky blouses and shirts, soft hand tooled leather shoes don’t draw traffic to your site (not to mention that the paycheck hasn’t reached the point of supporting  …  oh but the Armani suits!  Hmmm….. be still my beating heart, do not apply for that executive position that a certain well connected friend mentioned.  Remember the commute, the corporate politics, the quotas, the backstabbing, the deadlines, yes, take a deep breath, feet firmly planted on the ground,  aaahhh, I am over it.

Armani?  Did I hear Armani?

Shush!

Oh. Off topic again!

Carlos my darling, you are delusional.  Dishes never get “done”

To Your Awesome Blog Income Life!

Valentina

Welcome to Sunday Morn Musings.  This is my weekly free fall – writing about whatever it is that occupies the mind on a Sunday Morn.  The idea of a “no topic” posting is the stepchild to a blog I used to write:  Four O’Clock Thursdays which is still up there if you want to check it out – more likely, I will republish some of those posts here over time.  On Sunday Morn Musings the topic may be about blogging but  more than likely not.

Here in Vancouver we are in the final stages of preparation for the 2010 Winter Olympics.  Two weeks from today some medals will already have been won, more to be fought over for another two weeks.   Tears of joy and tears of disappointment will be shed.  I have no doubt that it will be a momentous event and plan to watch some of my favorite winter sports and cheer on the home team.  Of course I’m rooting for them!

Right from the outset  there was unbridled opposition to the Olympics – even before we were granted them.  Mostly the opposition centered around cost:  that we can not afford the Olympics; tThat they would leave the city and province mired in debt for decades to come; that  the money could be better spent, for things such as health care, the homeless and the poor.  Others have a problem with what they perceive to be elitism.  The noise has not died down.  This being a democracy the demonstrations go on.  Frankly, I am sick and tired of them.

Fine!  You’ve made your point!  I have a point too.

On Money and Elitism.

I’m not going to get into the economic spinoffs from an event such as the Olympics.  I leave that to the economists and the government.  They do a much better job of it than I can ever hope to.  But I have some thoughts on both money and elitism.

Money and affordability.

The first thing that comes to mind is that if societies of the past were to have built only that which was affordable then the world would be a poorer place today.  So much of  man made grandeur would have never been built if it was left strictly to affordability and affordability in this case often meant not just money, but manpower which was often put at significant risk.

If money and affordability were the ultimate deciding factor we would not have the Pyramids or the Sphinx, the Great Wall of China, St. Petersburg, the Taj Mahal, the Golden Gate Bridge, city of Petra, the Channel Tunnel.  The list is not exhaustive.  It could go on for pages.

If  societies only proceeded with major projects based solely on their affordability absent would be the testament to man’s ability to create beauty, engineering feats, the power to awe and inspire future generations to greater achievements, to build a greater future on the past.

On elitism.

When did the word “elite” become a dirty word?  Granted I did not grow up in North America but when I was growing up we looked up to the elite with admiration.  We wanted to be part of that group.  Some of my friends were good at sports and wanted to join the ranks of that group of elites.  Some of my friends were artists and wanted to be amongst the elite in dance, music, painting.   In school the smart kids were an elite group and were looked up to and more kids tried harder to get good grades.  In short, to be a member of some elite group was both desirable and motivating.

You can imagine my puzzlement the first time that I heard the word “elitist” used with scorn.  It was a revelation.  Over the years I have come to understand the conflict with elitism in North America.  It seems that the biggest objection to “elite” is that by definition it is a small group, hard to get into.  Takes talent, work and perseverance and even that is no guarantee.  I have seen demand of  entitlement, deserved or otherwise, creeping like a slow but debilitating disease.  Might be desirable certainly I don’t see it as motivating.

Personally, I like to see people rise to the top of their game, whether it is in sciences, literature or sport.  I think that we as a society should acknowledge their hard work and be proud of their achievements.  If the Olympics is one way to honor our athletes, good!  Let them play the good game, let them enjoy that fleeting moment of glory and pride.  I believe that for that one moment in time humanity as a whole is uplifted to a plane that it cannot reach but can bask in the light of possibility made real by a few of its own.

Yes.  I think that sometimes you have to step up to the plate and take on a debt that has a good repayment plan and yeah, we need to champion those who can for they take us all to a higher level of our own possibilities.

Let the Games Begin!

To Your Success!

Valentina

Welcome to Sunday Morn Musings.  This is my weekly free fall – writing about whatever it is that occupies the mind on a Sunday Morn.  The idea of a “no topic” posting is the stepchild to a blog I used to write:  Four O’Clock Thursdays which is still up there if you want to check it out – more likely, I will republish some of those posts here over time.  On Sunday Morn Musings the topic may be about blogging but  probably not.

Welcome to the first edition of Sunday Morn Musings.  A weekly post without a niche, continuity of topic or an agenda of any sort… well, that last one is not true.  There is an agenda.  It is to share, to tickle, to even provoke – the main thing is, I hope that my Sunday Morn Musings will get you to thinking, and hey, maybe I’ll be able to throw in a bit of humor here and there, or at least some witticism –  that would be a major for me, I’m not known to be a ha ha type of person, it is one of those things I try to work on as I keep entering the annual humorous contest at my Toastmaster club year after year and have  yet to win the top spot and to move on to the next level of competition … I just think that the club I belong to has a lot of “ringers”, at least that’s my excuse and I’m sticking to it.

It’s a grey sort of Sunday morning.  The kind that makes you want to sit curled up on your sofa with a good book in one hand and  a cuppa still steaming coffee and indulge in some good reading.  I like reading.  I love books.  My spare bedroom is both my office and  a “library” a wall lined with shelves and shelves of books.  I have always wanted to have a real library in my home, you know, the kind where the books go from floor to ceiling and from wall to wall and of course there would be one of  those ladders that moves on a track so that you can reach the top shelves of your library.  Hmmm…. how would I categorize them, organize them?

As it is my books are currently organized in my own higgledy piggledy way.  Books I buy and read for pure pleasure: the best sellers, the authors that I like, the autobiographies and historical novels, the literary prize winners  - they are all at one end of the wall slid onto the shelves alphabetically by author.  I try to leave wiggle room at the end of each shelf so that I don’t have to go rearranging the books when yet another is added and needs to be slid into the proper alphabet slot.  It’s getting tighter and tighter.  I think I am going to have to buy another bookshelf and start on another wall … and that would mean a lot of rearranging!

At the other end I have the books that will make me grow – personal development, financial savvy type stuff, internet marketing.  I have made room at the bottom of one of the bookshelves for the internet marketing courses that I have bought, and the myriad of CD’s  - takes up 3 cram filled shelves if you must know (and then there are those that reside on my computer). This second grouping of books is relatively new in my life.  I have always been an avid reader of mysteries, romance, history and intrigue and even a bit of sci fi but the books on personal growth, on getting ahead in life were introduced to me well into my adulthood.

How did I get introduced to this genre of writing and what is it about these books that keeps me  going to the bookstore for more?  Certainly they are not particularly well written – at least most are not, no Pulitzer Prize winners amongst this lot, even if they have hit the bestseller list. Years and years ago, my personal trainer Nina casually mentioned that she was reading The Artist’s Way and recommended that I read it too. Now Nina – you’ll come to know her here – is one of the most gentlest of people that I know, yet, there is nothing ambivalent about her.  She has a quiet way about her that means business. Of course I went and bought the book.  Of course I immersed myself into it.  Of course I did the exercises.

Thus began my addiction with the  self improvement industry. If you haven’t read The Artist’s Way by Julia Cameron yet I cannot recommend it highly enough. It is a great excursion into self re-discovery.   Get your own copy.  You’ll want to write in it and as the years pass, periodically you’ll want to pull it off the shelf and do the whole dang thing all over again!

What about you?  Do you have a bookshelf?  What books have you got there?  Do you have a favorite?  Or is it a CDshelf (my husband has one of those).  Is it mostly music?  Of course, why bother with a cdshelf anymore – there are mp3 players and ipods and all sorts of gadgets.  Share your thoughts on books and authors and music and artists. Best………………Valentina