A Little Girl, a Homeless Man, and a Slice of Cheese Pizza

It was just a few years ago that I finally realized my children were going to be my greatest teachers in this life. Though I’ve had many other unexpected teachers, nobody has taught me the same lessons my pint-sized guides have.

Some of the lessons have been direct, while others have been subtle; they have made me roll down the road of pure anger at times, only to lift me off the path with a candid smile or a flower picked at just the right time. They have taught me patience, resilience, true love and self-respect, and most of all they have taught me to live in the moment.

Yesterday, unbeknownst to me, it was time for yet another lesson. My five-year-old daughter and I left the house to run errands right before lunch time; since we had spent the greater part of the morning just lazing around and playing, we were suddenly in a time crunch, so we dressed and left without eating first.

After two errands we were famished, so we stopped at a pizza restaurant to fit a couple of slices into our choked schedule. Being such a beautiful day, we took our trays outside and sat at one of the cast iron tables. The scenery was lovely – a sunny day, a happy little girl eagerly sinking her baby teeth in a warm delight of sauce and cheese over a tasty crust, and a soft breeze only softly ruffling the tender new leaves on the trees nearby. Idyllic.

Then, along came a homeless man. Clad in colorful overalls and accessorized with rain boots and a fisherman’s hat minus the hook, he slowly walked down the sidewalk toward us. He carried two plastic bags filled with his humble belongings, and he stopped occasionally to look up toward the sky, as if in a private conversation with his maker. Only about five or six feet away from us by now, he stopped by a trash can and rummaged through discarded bags. My daughter had her eyes fixed on his hands, and I could imagine little wheels spinning at high speed in her head as she tried to figure out what the man was doing.

A moment later he pulled out one of the bags, opened it, took out two discarded pizza crusts and he hungrily bit into them. Morgan watched him bite and chew, and was almost hypnotized by the scene unfolding in front of her; her gaze quickly shifted to me, and then to the man again, until it finally rested on the slice of pizza in front of her.

I watched her without saying a word, and my heart spread an inch wider when I saw her breaking the slice of pizza with her little fingers; she took one half of it, wrapped it as good as she could in one of the napkins she found on the table, and after silently looking at me she stood up and ran to the man to offer him some of her lunch.

The old man appeared stunned by the gesture. This wasn’t a grown woman, or man, dispensing pity, but a small child sharing equally with him. He smiled at her, and gently bowed his head; his lips quivered a little, but he managed to thank her. Morgan smiled back, and without a second thought came back to the table to finish her lunch.

The lesson she taught me could surely have been one of compassion, but I think she taught me something even more important. While many of us constantly worry about not having enough left if we share, her focus was on alleviating the man’s discomfort, knowing she would not go hungry. With no fear in her heart, or self-imposed limitations of abundance, she was free to live in the moment and cast a pebble of joy to create a ripple effect of good energy.

In the end, the man left happy, Morgan was satisfied with herself and ready to bite into a new slice of pizza I bought for her, and if that wasn’t enough, I dug into my pocket to retrieve my car keys and found two dollars I had forgotten were there. Everything was in perfect balance and three people were happier than thirty minutes before. And all that at the price of half a slice of pizza…a bargain indeed.

"Kiss of Eden" -- A Music Review

I am certainly not a music expert, but I surely enjoy a good CD when I hear one. Being a writer and an avid reader, I also enjoy a good story, and I particularly love music with profound lyrics that can transport me and allow me a glimpse of the author’s soul.

When I listened to Kiss of Eden by Cherie Lassiter, I should have fastened my seat belt before the trip, because from the first few notes of Shake Me Up I was instantly lifted into a whirlwind of feeling and longing, love and loss, struggle and renewal.

As the songs played, one after the other, I felt like I was watching a film I could not miss a moment of. Cherie Lassiter’s melodious voice led me through a timeless play of mankind’s greatest blessing and curse – a love affair unable to be fulfilled, an outpouring of feeling too constricted by individual blocks to allow itself to flow.

After the initial anxiety and heartache experienced at the dawn of a break-up, change and renewal are sought through different means. As a woman desperately tries to leave her past behind and rebuild a new home for her soul, a new sense of awareness surfaces, and she realizes that she can’t fix the bruised relationship on her own; no matter how much love she gives, her partner is lost and has chosen to lock himself in a self-imposed prison no one but him has the key for. Lack of communication deepens the divide between her and her love, and all she can do is escape into her own comfort zone where she can heal and regroup. And that’s when her soul learns the lesson that was in front of her the whole time – life is a pattern of waves, and it is okay to abandon oneself to the currents, and even crash at times, as long as one can hold on to the ever peaceful energy of the heart.

Kiss of Eden is not a collection of happy songs, but rather it is a journey that will lead the listener to a more empowered place within the self.

Check out Kiss of Eden at cdbaby.

An Unexpected Treat

It is by chance that we met, by choice that we became friends.” ~ Author unknown


Two years ago, while I was looking for a literary agent, I set up profiles on every site that could help me get in touch with the right representative; along with the benefits of exposure, also came the less appreciated, infamous e-mails from the sites which regularly clog my inbox.

One morning, about a year or so ago, I received yet another notification of a new member signing up. Instead than deleting the message on sight - as I habitually did after I no longer needed to find an agent - that morning I felt compelled to click on the link. When the page opened, I stared at four profiles: two poets, an agent whose niche was young adult fiction, and a novelist, Renee Otis. Renee had opened a profile to either get the attention of an agent or to get suggestions from fellow writers. On her profile was a short synopsis of her novel – slave ghosts, ancient traditions, a psychic nurse, a comatose man who mentally communicated with her; in short, her novel had all the ingredients for a good story – so I wrote to her, and we began exchanging thoughts. In time, she sent me her novel to read and comment on, and I loved it! As fate had it, she soon signed up with one of my friends who had gone on to open a literary agency of her own after working as an agent assistant for a while.

The day before yesterday I had a surprise. I checked my messages and read that Renee had sent me a note on Facebook; she was coming to Raleigh for a week of training and wanted to know if we could meet. Initially, she was supposed to go to Philadelphia, but at the last minute the schedule had changed and she was sent to North Carolina.

I was very excited to meet her in person; over time we had virtually shared hopes, dreams and fears, and now we had the chance to meet face to face. We decided to meet at the hotel she stayed at, and spent a wonderful hour and a half talking over a glass of wine. If someone there was listening to us, they would have thought we had always known each other – we talked about our current projects and about the woes and wows of the publishing world, but our conversation derailed several times to other topics, and it was absolutely amazing to see how two perfect strangers who had never before met in person could be so instantly connected and comfortable with one another.

Since we both had to be up early I didn’t stay long, but we made plans to possibly get together again before she leaves town. As I drove home I thought of how strange life is sometimes, and how wonderful. If I hadn’t clicked on that link the year before, I never would have known Renee exists – though I am sure I would have discovered her later on once her amazing novel makes it to the printer – and if her company hadn’t switched schedules, it would have likely been years before we met, if indeed we were meant to meet at all.

Each day has the potential of revealing surprises that might not always be welcome, but it also reserves the right to treat us with unexpected blessings when we least expect them; the trick, I suppose, is to remain open to all we can receive.

In this case, I was blessed with the opportunity to meet someone extremely talented, with whom I share many of the same interests, whose name I will see listed some day on the New York Times list of best-selling novelists. For now, I am just happy that a link on a message led me to someone so dear.