Sometimes - and maybe more often then that - I need an escape. Life for me cannot be just bills, concerns, work - anything that challenges and frets the mind. I need to sojourn, relax, look, see, and take in beauty, in its natural state. Enjoy time away from my home and computer, and listen to whatever nature offers, whether it be nearby birds or the soles of my sneakers hitting the dirt and sand. One of my favorite spots to accomplish the above is a day trip to - and that trip could just be a few hours - is the Sandy Hook section of the Gateway National Recreation Area in New Jersey. While at this spot, if it be during the in-season of June through August, I'll venture away from the roar of the surf and those who visit and frolic by it, and instead head to the more peaceful areas by the dunes and bayside. Sandy Hook is unique where, although a rule of respect for nesting shore birds and necessity of inland protection from vicious storms prohibits climbing or walking on dunes, the area offers dune trails where one can walk at leisure, view the beautiful but peaceful wild growth, while not damaging the dunes nor the "inhabitants." While I walk, I'll see prickly pear, heather, cactus, poison ivy ( a good reason alone not to venture off the trail), and an occasional mouse or rabbit scurrying. If visiting in the fall, sometimes goldenrods are prevalent (see below). I'm a Pisces, and I've often read that my sign signifies a person who is fond of areas where a body of water and the peace of nature prevail.
The above, then, is proof positive of this declaration. Steve
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'Please don't misinterpret the heading to this weeks blog post.
Freelancing full-time isn't total "freedom." Freelance writing is hard work, but the "freedom" comes with the fact that you (for the most part) can make your own schedule. Consider last week, when an editor asked me to cover a special science class being held at a local university. It was a very warm day, and the college campus - like most campuses in the summer months - was devoid of cars and people except for a few. While searching for the proper building, I got lost a few times, parking my car under trees in empty parking lots, befriending their limbs and leaves in an effort to garner shade. As much as I sought that, I valued as well the walks in the sun and heat, the only noise an occasional warm breeze rustling the trees and bushes, the only movement (besides myself) were squirrels scampering along the grass and up the trees, birds flying branch to branch. As picturesque as this was, it was the peace afforded, the freedom I felt as I strolled. I was sweating, but that discomfort of that was outweighed by the fact that, if I were employed with a "job," the campus visit, the strolling, the viewing of nature, would not be possible. It, the walk on the warm day, reminded me one time of when my wife and me were first married, and we took a drive down to the then-Garden State Arts Center and walked on a very hot day Telegraph Hill Park. We spent about an hour that day in Holmdel, and loved every minute of it. It was a weekday, the area was empty except for us a nature, and it was beautiful. So was this. Steve There are times that are apropos for sitting down, assessing one's life, and "seeing" whether or not you are making progress or just "existing."
That time, for me, has arrived today. Recently, after a very harried deadline period, I have been able to sit back, relax, and evaluate all that I've done or not done thus far in 2019, and how this all relates to my life at age 57 1/2. Writing: 2019 has been an extremely challenging year for my writing career. I've learned new things, new editorial perspectives, and take on more longer forms of work like articles ranging from 1,500 to over 5,000 words. I have also learned to better edit my work and be more productive. Also, at the midway point of 2019, I already have surpassed my 2018 income - a good thing. Health: "X" marks failure, especially for the past four months. Since a March injury, I have not worked out, and I have feasted on food - lots of the "fast" and "junk" variety. Not wise, especially for a soon-to-be 33-year heart attack survivor. I have ballooned, am sluggish, and many times don't embrace the day. But there's good news, though. We as a family have talked and are focused on improved health habits, including both food (we don't use the word "diet") choices and exercise regimens. Starting this Monday, I will daily perform the Body-for-LIFE program that was devised by Bill Phillips in the late 1990s. It is the one program, when I adhered to it, that worked for me and my wife. I also plan on reconnecting with my health coach. We had an agreement where, if I was lax with regard to my health, don't waste her time or mine. Well, that will be a thing of the past. Spiritually: God has kept me going. I've leaned on him, and now will lean even more. Morning prayers and scripture readings, and repeating the same in the afternoon, along with collecting thoughts in a prayer journal (by the way, prayer journaling is a practice I started in 2015 and I will soon begin my eighth journal - I recommend it highly for those looking to make a positive change) has meant much to me, kept me moving forward during very challenging times. In closing, I'll state that "challenging" is the key word. No one's life, especially mine, should be devoid of challenges. I feel, just like we welcome our joys, we should as well do the same with challenges, no matter what they are. Emerging successfully on the other side of them is what makes life worth living, revealing the presence of hope. Steve Sometimes you just need to take a break.
Last weekend - "weekend" defined as Friday through Monday - I had a harrowing deadline period with a number of magazine and newspaper articles due, one over 7,000 words! In order to meet the submission date of Monday, June 10, other work on my plate had to be elbowed to Wednesday, thereby affording myself a day of freedom on Tuesday. I didn't rest enough. On Wednesday, here in the basement library I returned to other assignments but still felt burnout. So, I decided to take my person and work to the spot which never fails me when I need inspiration: the local Barnes & Noble bookstore. I arrived, my computer bag in my hand, inside all the necessary folders filled with assignment sheets I use to keep myself in order (and sane), plopped down in a cafe seat, opened my bag, and noticed I had forgotten my computer. I sat for two minutes in silence, pondering my error. I had four hours to kill, during which I had planned to work with fervor somewhat. However, when I saw my bag devoid of my tablet, I decided then and there to do two things: order a frappucino, and just read - for four hours. Making that decision delivered peace to me. I calmed down, stopped calling myself an idiot (yes, I can be rough on myself, sometimes), and grabbed a few books and magazines, went to the cafe counter and ordered my drink, returned to my seat and relaxed. I even turned off my smartphone. So that night, rather than write, I read the work of other writers, fellow members of my fraternity. Although I knew work was waiting for me, I didn't allow it to "knock" at my brain's door and enter. I kept it at bay. It was my best time spent away from writing in a while. Steve When day trips occasionally take me to places where I have to wait a period, rather than sit in my car I'll walk and take in sights, trying to find the unusual. Now, I understand what is "unusual" to me may not be to someone else, who may view things more logically and offer valid explanations for the way things are. Me, I sometimes dwell deeply, but instead opt most often to just peek and wonder. Fox example, a drive to a recent northern New Jersey industrial site - brick, cement, fencing, and tar its primary "inhabitants" - I found myself wandering over to a tiny green, grass covered hill that was fronting a new building under construction. Nearby were growing wildflowers , flourishing although just yards away the norm materials of construction work lay quietly nearby, while the nature was caressed by soft, warm breezes.
One thing is obvious to me: nature, I believe, can live anywhere. Consider: anything above ground has soil below it, and if fertile enough can yield the most beautiful surprises in the most surprising spots.
Steve When wrapped in the cocoon of a freelance writing career, I often feel and want and need to exit my basement library and head outside and breathe fresh air. The basement window being open during the many hours I work at my desk doesn't suffice. Once outside, I often marvel at what has become of our yard. I don't say the following with disdain, but really with wonder. It appears a forest has overtaken the tiny acreage. I'll not only admire from the short distance, but as well wander over and view (sometimes study) the detail in the many leaves, hold one steady in my hand while the wind rush sets the majority to swinging and "dancing." That activity, both the study and the movement, as well as the green color, is beautiful. And then there's the bush pictured below, its name escaping me. The contrast it brings against the greenery of the growing trees and grass is eye-opening. One look from the deck, one up-close visit, means "peace." Someday, a park bench will find a home below, between the wild growth and the soon-to-be-blooming Crepe Myrtle. Walt Disney Studios in the early 1950s published a book called Nature's Half Acre, which basically educated about the way even our own backyards, no matter the size, could (and can and will) teach us about the life of nature, as long as you know where to look, and are curious and patient enough to "get away" from busyness and spend some time.
Steve Tomorrow and every Mother's Day, I honor and love my wife, Lucille, for giving me two of the greatest gifts of my life: her love, and our daughter, Stefanie. I cherish my wife and daughter, and this photo is one of my favorites.
I also honor my late Mom with the post below, which was originally published on 5/10/2009: I've tried to think of even the tiniest kernel, no matter what it may be, to define my relationship between I and my Mom. I've been thinking and thinking and, even though people are different, have different feelings, reactions, personalities and more, I'm trying to think of just one simple thing that unites ALL children to their Mothers. I don't know about you, but my Mom was always there for me. After two miscarriages,she carried me for eight months and delivered me a month early. She always told me I was the best baby; I played in my crib without a peep. She held me when I was sick with bad cases of yearly bronchitis as a youngster, was in the hospital with me when I had an appendectomy and two hernia operations (one at 16 months, another at age 26), answered the phone on one ring when my wife miscarried our first child, enthusiastically answered the phone when my wife gave birth to my truest joy in life, my daughter Stefanie, and she held my hand when I suffered a heart attack at age 34. After that, she always made sure I kept up with my cardiology appointments. She even taught me an all important life lesson that I will always live by: "Your religion is how you treat people." She was all this, and more, to me. I realize it now more than ever. Regardless, I used to whine to my wife that, whenever my Mom called and we talked, she complained constantly, and that I couldn't wait for the phone calls to end. Also, even though we lived in close proximity and we enjoyed occasional lunches together, I rarely visited her. My wife would often say to me, "Remember one thing -- one day you're going to want to talk to her, and she won't be here to talk to you." On February 18, 2007, my Mom passed away. I apologize if the following appears preachy or even hypocritical, but I will say this. I don't have my Mom to visit or talk to today. Like many, my visits and speeches are now limited to peering at and speaking to a stone marker in a graveyard, and via prayers, hoping and believing that she'll hear me. Worthy, bittersweet, good stuff, but certainly not the same as true flesh and blood. Many reading this are lucky enough to have their Moms still with them. Make that phone call, pay a visit, tell them you love them. If you haven't spoken to or seen your Mom for a while for whatever reason, reach out. One day, she won't be here... Steve On July 30, 1996, at the age of 34, I suffered a heart attack. I got sick on a Saturday, it was misdiagnosed, I didn't go go the emergency room until Tuesday, and I was fortunate to survive. I got a new lease on life, was able to remain married to my wife of then-8 1/2 years, and had a further opportunity to watch my only daughter grow. Sometimes you need wake-up calls in life to make you realize how precious each moment really is. This past week, I learned of two friends who were involved in very bad car accidents. Both are lucky to be alive, and I'm very grateful that they are. Blessings to them. While I don't equate my heart attack to their car accidents, the three events placed our lives in peril, and two things matter: all three of us are still here, and we each were given a new lease on life.
Reading of their plights and survival this week made me think that, maybe, I should more often think about how I'm living my life currently, and where I'm headed, in addition to loving what and who is really important. Steve Saturday morning, when there is less noise and traffic outside my basement library window and instead nature in the sound of birds chirping, is always a good time to reassess where I currently stand in my life, and contemplate what I have to change. I have found that, unless I do this, my life continues in on its "comfort zone cushion" and is neither truly exciting, accomplished, but just ordinary (for me) and, if I'm not careful, I start "slipping" towards extremities I'd rather not entertain.
-- My health: I have a health coach that I report to when I am regimented in my exercise. When not, I don't report because I am wasting both of our times. The coach does respond if I reach out in times of my laziness, but our discussions don't bear rich fruit they would if I were following a daily schedule of healthy eating and exercise. And that brings, has "delivered" me, to where I am now: 225 - 230 pounds, but not a healthy 225 - 230. Truth be told, a recent pulled muscle has curtailed my physical activity, but still I didn't need to pair this with what I call "instant gratification junk food eating." Also, since I am now 57 and soon-to-be a 23-year heart attack survivor...what in the world am I thinking?! Do we have anything in common here? I think the reader and I know the next step. -- My work: The universe has transported me back into the full-time freelance writing world, and I have a swath of work embraces my desk. I have a busy life, and sometimes that busyness for some reason encourages procrastination. Not good. Funny thing, when I don't kick back and put the feet up -- which, by the way, I don't discourage; I'm just talking about overdoing it -- and get my writings done per deadline, more work opportunities are deposited into my "Current Assignments" folder. Not only that, I am happy, and so are my editors. The above two areas of my life, as I head into the second third of 2019, I will monitor more closely. Better yet, I will "live" the proper steps and partner this with the monitoring. Steve Oak Road Park in Fairfield, New Jersey has a tarred, somewhat circular trail, and walking it will take 3 - 5 minutes depending on the individual.
It also has a tiny playground for children, benches for sitting, and a picnic table for those seeking to maybe rest a while and have something to eat. On a recent Sunday afternoon, after I picked up my daughter from her weekend job, I learned she was gifted with a few extra pieces of ice creamed birthday cake from a party that day. It being a warm day, the cake - already liquidizing - would not have survived the 15 minutes, 12 mile drive home in stop-and-go traffic. So, we elected to visit Oak Road Park, a spot where I have occasionally stopped at and taken a brief stroll, and enjoy the somewhat-still-frozen delight while it still "lived." There was something very special in that 20 minutes we spent together, eating ice cream cake and talking, enjoying a park that was desolate except for us, a cat in the distance, and occasional bird soaring to branches in the trees not destroyed by weather or age. It was a very nice, impromptu, Daddy and Daughter brief sojourn. 20 minutes of quality time where we ate, talked about the serenity of the small park, and pretty much just enjoyed being together; me, away from my writing desk for the day, and she with her couple of hours of work concluded, looking for a few days of rest before returning to work again. It was so very simple, but at the same time so very special. Steve |
Steve Sears is a New Jersey based freelance writer
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