17 Ideas for Dealing With Negative News

If times seem tough, it's because we're exposed to much more information than all our combined predecessors saw in their lifetime. Poet Thomas Gray once wrote, 'ignorance is bliss' and while that doesn't sound responsible in today's world, doesn't it sound tempting to act like an ostrich with his head in the sand?

How about these suggestions? Do you think they might work?

17 ideas for blocking out the negative noise 

Could you cancel your cable?

 

Hide your Smartphone? (Once you've picked the kids up from school)

Stop your wireless?

Toss the newspaper subscription? 

Move off the grid? 

Hike a giant mountain without cell reception? 

Start a photo journal using a real camera?

Fly to a remote part of the world? (Enticing, huh?)

Visit a senior center where Twitter refers to the sound of a pacemaker. 

Leave phone at home while feeding/cleaning up after the homeless?

Volunteer for the Thanksgiving Parade?

Join, or at least visit a monastery? 

Teach someone to sail and avoid busy ports?

 

Host a craft class--allowing only emergency interruptions?

Teach scuba or take lessons. It's so quiet down there. 

Hammer your own noise for Habitat for Humanity. 

Plant vegetables and watch them grow in a community garden?

The point I'm making is that by helping others we help ourselves and in the process we clear our minds. Of course, you could also go for one of my favorites, which is to just barricade yourself in a room full of wonderful books! 

Hart to Intangible Heart and My Introduction to a Bestselling Novel

Whether you’re a writer, artist or creator of crafts, the best validation is receiving recognition for your work. I remember walking through aisles and aisles of cakes and pies, all missing a piece at the county fair. Blue ribbons scattered throughout but unfortunately, white Honorable Mention ribbons were pinned on most of them. Drooling before heading back to the wafting funnel-cake smell and buttery barbecued corn waiting outside, I wondered what the judges didn’t like. Were some of the cakes too sweet or too tart? Maybe they went by eye appeal. By now, some of the desserts unappealingly slumped in the summer heat but most of them still looked good. The same thing happened over at the craft building, where lovingly crocheted afghan throws were on display next to pieced quilts, vests and tote bags. Most received Honorable Mentions and only a few were Blue Ribbon winners. I loved the intricate details and bright colors and thought they should all receive first prize. But no one asked me my opinion as I wasn't asked to evaluate anything. 

That’s why I love writing reviews of books that I read. It’s the least I can do to provide feedback and support to someone who worked hard developing a plot, characters and a story-line. It’s my way of saying thank you for entertaining me, keep up the good work. Anyone with an Amazon account can add reviews and they don’t have to be stellar just truthful. I always learn something from all the reviews I’ve received for both my novels-Penniless Hearts or The Fifth Commandment, while appreciating and swallowing the bad with the good. Some people are shy about it or something and I hope to encourage everyone to go to Goodreads or Amazon and perhaps start with something you enjoyed reading in school. It doesn’t have to be long. A couple sentences will do the trick and other readers will benefit from your input. I’ve also realized that I can’t wait for others to reciprocate. Everyone has his or her own timeline for reading. My Kindle is packed with wonderful stories and my bookshelves are overflowing. For some strange reason the cover of Becoming Moon drew me in. Like some of those cakes, maybe I went by eye appeal.

After I wrote a review of his book, the bestselling author contacted me to tell me that I really “got” what he was trying to say. Of course I did. Craig Hart wrote about a writer having struggles and temptations along the course of his life that seemed to pull him down into a watery hole, making him feel like drowning. There were so many intangibles he could have knitted a King-sized duvet! I had mentioned his book on my blog and even posted my review but now the writer of Becoming Moon asked me to expound on my analysis so he could put it into his book as the introduction. I thought he was kidding. After all, this author knows how to write and though I can relate to his story, I can’t come close to his prose. Honored beyond words I can only say that I am sure he wasn’t jesting as I’m holding a signed copy of it in my hands. Definitely a Blue Ribbon winner in my estimation and a book I hope you find time to read and review. Get your copy here:

My signed copy. The following photo is the
end of my written introduction to
Becoming Moon, with my fingers as proof
that little old me actually wrote the introduction
to a bestselling novel!

Remembering Halloween-A Poem

Halloween (‘60’s era)

Eve Gaal

Whence we were little goblins-

groovy lithe witches

and rascally cowboys—

nothing wicked mind you,

perchance slightly mischievous-

waiting to run down the street--

giggling from house to house--

proudly shouting trick or treat.

Plans devised for a soulful celebration

powered behind glued on sequins--

the hubris of green felt--- pink ribbons.

Boasting about goals

to fill giant sacs-

we snickered behind our plastic masks--

zooming with super powers-

our hearts charged with wonder.

Beaming at our bounty of sugary fun--

spread like treasure on the breakfast table:

Golden wrapped toffees—

Mr. Goodbars even Bazooka gum.

Black and orange wrapped peanut taffy-

a caramel apple lovingly made by a granny next door-

perhaps a box of Crackerjacks with a small green whistle

you still keep in a drawer-

to remind you of a distant magic--

when shadows cast swirling leaves--

as frolicking ghosts in rustling trees

announced it’s

Hallow’s eve.

Abundant Anniversary

The smoke alarm had to go off on our Anniversary and that’s one of those things that frighten the

collars off our dogs. And while we usually walk together hand in hand with a Chihuahua on each leash, this Columbus day and tenth day of the tenth month under what felt like tropical breezes and warm cloudy skies, I took the short walk around the block myself with Pinky.  (Someone had to change the batteries immediately.)

Pinky takes the lead

Every day, even on a short walk, there are things to see but this time I was duly rewarded with long tall shadows, flowering shrubs and hummingbirds.

The shadows fall

Crossing the street

Do you see the chirpy hummingbird?

The flag in our park

Please ignore the trash on the ground.
Non-locals like to sneak into our park and act like boars.
There's a trash can across from this bench. 

 

 Join me on this special day by having a seat in our one-acre community park where gratitude flowed from my heart as well as inspiration for a poem for my beloved I had to jot down when I reached our now peaceful home.

Happy Anniversary

Thank you Steve for coming into my life 24 years ago—

the man who changed my life.

The spring in my step when I walk our dogs—

the flowering scent along my path.

Your eyes the morning light—

your smile the California sun.

Thank you for being an angel

when I need spoiling.

Thank you for being disciplined and wise

when I need to grow up.

A warm and wonderful shoulder to cry on when I’m sad—

a solid rock of reassurance and a gift from God--

the one who broke the mold—my Steve.

Nature inspires me. How about you? 

Tale O' Miniature Tail

  

Welcome to my universe. I’m a rescue.

Mom says she’s a rescue too.

Dad says-- mom rescued him but I think there’s more to that story.

The main thing is this: We all need humans.

Tall or stinky,

Young or frumpy

Peeps are important.

They all matter.

And man can they can make a difference in your life.

Take this ordinary suburban yard for example:

Every petal and piece of mulch is mine, (even though there’s another rescued dog around here.)

I am fearless and safe back here.

The mailman is on the other side of the house and

the vacuum cleaner never comes outside.

Sunshine follows me throughout the day.

This is my element.

I prowl around and sniff the grass.

Sometimes I'm thorny like a rose. 

The scent of invaders

such as rabbits and squirrels delights me

especially because they know better

 than to stay on our side of the fence.

I can bark,

yelp and even cry.

I can sleep on the lounge chair

pretending I’m queen.

I am Fiona and if you need rescuing--

 find a human today!

Photo Blog of The Fifth Commandment

Peter's Denial, Carl Heinrich Bloch (1834-1890 Danish),

 National History Museum, Frederiksborg Castle

Thought I'd share a few photos about my newest short work titled The Fifth Commandment.

Wikipedia-(New Panama City)

Much of my story is a recollection of old Panama in Central America, which touched my heart as a family friendly, peaceful but humble town across from new Panama City which is full of skyscrapers, restaurants and fast cars.

This breathtaking altar has quite a story
 of it's own involving a Welsh pirate.

 Huge bridges, highways and giant expanses of water separate the old from the new and it almost seems like there’s a time warp of a hundred years between the two areas. 

My pictures are from the old section as described by my character, Christina. 

I loved the serenity in the French Plaza

If you like faith-based stories then click here now.

Even my own dishes inspired me....

but most of the story came to me in my dreams.

Have you ever denied someone you loved?

Will My Character believe Christina's Story?

    My nervous character, Father Joe, suddenly feels insecure around two well-known and honorable men of the cloth affiliated with the Basilica in Chicago. They arrived on his invitation to deal with a young girl named Christina who could potentially cause trouble. All of it is giving him nightmares! Here's an excerpt taking place as Father Joe picks them up at the station:

From Chapter 10 of The Fifth Commandment

On sale September 24th thru the 30th

 “Hey, how was the trip?” Father Joe started the car. It was a beige Volvo with 259,000 miles on the odometer. 

     “Fine, except we were a bit rushed due to traffic.” Trying to keep their anxious excitement to a minimum, they continued with small talk about the weather and the train amenities. “How about you?  Anything new since last night?”

   He chocked the vision of Jesus on the side of the church to shadows playing with his mind—but later that evening he had a powerful dream. “Not really, but I’m feeling strange about this whole thing. Our little parish can’t handle the publicity. Imagine what would happen if this leaked out?” He turned on the blinkers and turned into the church parking lot. “Don’t you remember what happened in Medugorje?  Thousands flocked to the tiny village….”

     “Yeah, we remember, Joe” Father George interrupted. “I’ve been there.”

     Father Andrew laughed, “Heck people even pay big money on EBAY for granola clusters shaped like Moses holding stone tablets.”

     “I guess I’m just worried about my generous parishioners. I don’t want anyone taking advantage of their kindness,” Father Joe said as he led the way into his office. “Besides, I had a horrible dream last night.”

“You saw St. Peter?” Andrew quipped.

Father George laughed. “No,” Father Joe explained. “It was us in purgatory. Sadly, I think Christina was there too.”

“Oooh, tell us more,” they smiled and followed each other inside.

“I will, but hold on for a second. There’s a lot going on.”

     “Well, to be perfectly honest with you Joe, I’m kind of excited.” Father Andrew said, searching the room for a plug for his tape-recorder. “Don’t worry, this won’t be another Fatima for goodness sake, have some faith. This is probably the most exciting thing to happen in Normal, Illinois. It could be the economic boost this area needs right now.”

     The office lights were off. Father Joe went to the window first, opening the blinds. It was ten minutes after four. Then he stood up, walked back towards the door and turned on the overhead lights before sitting down at his desk.

“Now, tell us about your dream, Joe.” Father Andrew always loved tales of intrigue.

     “Wasn’t she supposed to be here at four?” Father George asked, as he took his place on the foldout chair.

     “Don’t worry, any teenager wanting as much attention as she does will be here.” He shuffled more bulletins and decided to tell them about his dream while waiting. “Drink anyone?” Father Joe needed one, but waited for them to gently decline. He enjoyed their company, but thought they were a wee bit pedantic. The scholars he knew weren’t as serious as these two and all his friends in school drank wine and scotch like giant beluga whales being released from captivity. They were bigger actors than Christina--all a bunch of phonies. Didn’t they see this hoax for what it really was? He took it to be a young girl’s desperate cry for attention. Why did they need to drag this out for almost a week now? Didn’t they have better things to do than hang out in his parish?

Will Father Joe come to believe Christina's unusual story?

Want to hear about his dream?

Then click here to order your copy of The Fifth Commandment today!