Love and Money

Love and money.

The truly blessed have both.

Most have one or the other ... though they may question if there's an adequate supply of either.

The cursed have neither.

The vast majority gravitate through times when they're plush with cash and have love but one runs out while the other wanes or disappears altogether.

If you've ever had one of either you quickly acknowledge you want more.

They're like being addicted to crack.

If you have both then you're dually addicted!

Dual addictions are tough to treat though they can be quite ecstatic when you're high on both and you look so damn happy.

Those with empty pockets and no one to hold hands with look every bit as depressed as they actually are!

If God opened up the Master Prayer book so we could examine it, I suspect that prayers for love and money rank 1 and 2.

There's probably a big drop off before 3, which is HEALTH ... closely followed by 4 "PLEASE GOD GET ME OUT OF THIS!"

But it's love and money that consume us, keeping us up at night, forcing us to lose focus, make wishes, pour out our souls to anyone who'll listen, go to Church and buy lottery tickets.

I'm at a place where I've got so much love it's tsunami-like so that parts great!

And I count myself lucky because there's enough money to get through now and I feel guilty asking for more when I know so many who don't have any.

Though honestly, I want more money but not because I want more than what I have.

I'm just exceedingly happy with what I got.

The beauty of the earth

In the middle of an unstable air system the weather prophets proclaim gloomy days ahead... the sun pops out from a blanket of purple clouds in a blue sky.

Dew drips from blossoms trees while choirs of birds loudly sing hymns of praise.

Half of the plants on the Beloved Back Deck are blooming away, sprinkling purple and red flowers, around the naked sticks that may not have survived.

A Finch hovers over a petunia while Gypsy the cat wistfully stares through the screen door.

Puddles of pollen rest on the outdoor table which I'll clean shortly.

A sense of calm has settled in an unstable world full of gloomy economic forecasts, abdicated political leadership, egotistical religion, missing people and misplaced faith.

I'm feeling blessed.

The last several years saw seismic changes and virtually everything about the way I live has transformed.

A very unstable time is now comforting stable.

I don't worry about much though there's certainly much to worry about.

People I love are fighting cancers, economics, lost loves, dreams, hopes and faith.

Lately I've taken to prayerfully whispering their names at night when I can't sleep and they comfort me somehow because I'm lulled back into unconsciousness.

The unstable darkness becomes stable.

In the midst of a world gone crazy I watch flowers bloom, listen to birds sing, am baptized in sunshine and am kissed by an ocean breeze.

I find myself humming a tune and words raise themselves from the dead in my mind.

For the beauty of the earth
For the spacious of the skies
For the love which from our birth
over and around us lies ...

And this day starts with an Amen.  

My Happy Journey!

Obviously I'm having to wean myself off posting song titles as my daily Facebook status updates.

Even though I said I was stopping, I haven't yet.

I amuse myself too much and occasionally they make others happy too.

People asks, "Micheal, why do you use song titles for your status updates?"

I'll tell you why!

It makes me happy!

Happy is something you can never have enough of and dammit, I want more so I'm going for it!

The other thing I'm still doing is writing everyday and that's going to remain a constant too. We are changing the platform though.

If you want to keep receiving them every day, THAT's GREAT!

Just click to www.meellc.com and look at my picture.

Then stop looking at me and look under my picture though this may prove more difficult than you think because it's a damn fine picture!

You can sign up and there I'll be for your reading pleasure, discomfort, spiritual awakening or the first moment of utter confusion in your day.

It'll be fun.

You may be asking, "Why in the hell is he doing this?"

I'm happy to tell you.

After you sign up.
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The Best Ending Yet

It's time to do new things ... again!

I'm the first to admit making a change, starting over and beginning something from scratch is like betting it all at the roulette table!

There's an impending certainty everything's going to be great as you dance into the Promised Land or your shoulders slump as you drag your feet to the Land of Broken Dreams.

I've started over so many times you'd think it would be as easy as riding a bicycle but it's not.

"What happens if this doesn't work out?" I'm asked.

"Of course it's going to work out," I reply confidently. "It always works out. Everything always works out."

Having said that, I freely admit it never quite works out the way I thought.

Each of my beginnings started with a lump in my throat and wishes that I don't fail or make a fool of myself.

In spite of these doubts, they all worked out great!

"Doubts are the ants in the pants of faith," says Frederick Buechner and I can't agree more.

That's why I know it's going to work out because my ass is itching with doubts. I just know its going to be alright because everything else I've done has been wildly successful, wonderful, inspiring, fulfilling and fucking fun!

Plus, they all had a really great ending!

You know when you go to a play or a movie, the best ones have a really great finale?

Well, the things I've done had tremendous endings ... both professionally and personally! They made you jump out of your seat roaring in laughter while applauding like crazy or ... wiping tears as you slumped in the chair asking yourself unanswerable questions.

The thing about both good beginnings and great endings is you can only do them once. If you try to do them again you're doomed to fail.

That's why most people only do one thing in their life. They're too frightened to risk failure so they settle for the safety of monotony. Painting the house a new color pushes their boundary line of comfort.

"I don't know Margaret. The house has always been blue. I think it would shock people to paint it red."

So they keep everything the same.

Or, as my friend Rodger Pack once said, "Mike, I want you to meet my next ex-wife!"

I loved Rodger. He had tremendous endings too but it never stopped him from new beginnings.

Anyway, I've got lots of new stuff going on in my life. Sandy Bottoms & Duct Taped Hearts is my newest book. Next month I'm teaching a new class "Doing what's Right for you". Both are just in time for Christmas! The book is great gift for others and the class is a terrific present to yourself!

We're also celebrating the Holidays in whole new ways, remaking a company, redoing the house and picking new places to visit. We've made new friends, read new books and find new ways to do most everything.

"Ask, and it will be given to you. Seek, and you shall find. Knock, and it will be opened to you."

That's the thing. Most don't ask, never seek and certainly don't knock so everything stays the same.

Not me!

I'm well slid into the later part of my life and have tons to still accomplish!

"There's too much to see, waiting in front of me that I know I just can't go wrong," is how Jimmy Buffett puts it.

That's what I know with everything inside of me.

Plus, this is going to be the best ending yet!
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It's your life to make!

"I want your life!"

"Well mines taken," I reply. "Why don't you get yours?"

"No, that's not what I mean," he protests. "Mine sucks! I work all of the time in a job I don't like but I have to pay the bills. I take care of my mother. I don't have the time or money for anything other than what I do."

"Sure you do," I say.

"What?"

I repeat myself, "Sure you do."

"I barely get by," he reassures.

"Listen," I press, "you spend money on yourself all of the time. You spend some on others too. You go to Wendy's and The Japanese Palace and rent movies every weekend, as you should. You deserve to do nice things for yourself!"

Well," he sighs with a drawl.

"You buy lots of shoes too don't you?" I continue. "I'm not a shoe guy but I have no problems with those who love them."

"What's your point," he snaps?

"If your life ends up looking something like mine, well that's great! We'll cross paths regularly."

"What are you talking about," he asks exasperated?

What I'm talking about is four years ago, by hook and definitely by crooks, I redid my life. The slate was wiped clean, which is hard to do because, like paint, the past likes to stick but I eventually started over again in my 50s! I gave myself time, spent money on me which I'd never really done before, and began thinking about myself before doing things for someone else.

I began a new career, found the love of my life, was adopted into a brand new melded family, and constantly try new things. It's made me more laid back, less confrontational, more contemplative, slower to judge and I don't dwell on things like I used to.

We live at the beach, work from home, love staying home when we're off, delight in each of the kids and love to travel as much as possible. Sarah and I have a lifestyle we love and are working hard to sustain it.  We're doing what's right for us and while it's got its scary moments it's fulfilling as hell!

"Listen," I finally answer his question, "it's your life for the making. If you chose a job you don't like, assume total responsibility for people and things you're not totally responsible for, and live somewhere other than where you want ... that's your choice."

"Personally," I continue, "I think it's about time you starting doing the right things for you! No one else will. Besides you only have so much life left. Whose is it going to be? What's it going to be?"

"I can't just walk away," he stammers, full of fear.

"Then start planning now," I fire back. "Get a calendar and start planning where you want to be and by when. Start investing in yourself and stop giving everything away to others. Join the group that starts soon that I'm teaching (www.meellc.com/onlineclass )! Do whatever it takes because ... you've only have so much time left to live!"

"I will," he says.
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“Can’t put down my newest book.  I’m reading it for the second time. Observations, situations, conversations all pulled together in a delightful way that makes you crave  more. Thanks to my favorite author−Micheal Elliott.” -Brenda Kelly

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Every Little Thing

"You want more coffee?"

Greasy, limp black hair hangs in front of her once cherub face, nods up and down, as she leans forward on the table squinting her eyes because of the rising sun.

I stroll into the kitchen, refill her cup and place it in front of her.

Reaching under her dirty blue stole she retrieves a bottle of bourbon and pours some into the coffee as a halo of smoke appears from the cigarette dangling from her lips.

"You're looking a hell of a lot better than the last time I saw you," I say flopping into one of the deck chairs.

She sighs sipping the coffee.

Taking this as a sign she needs mental space, I keep quiet. She's dirty as ever, broken wings are more brown than white and the robe has fallen on her right shoulder.

"I look better huh?" she mutters then spits a loogie over the deck.

"Well, you don't smell," I clarify.

Rolling her eyes she takes a shot of bourbon and chases it with bourbon laced coffee.

"What are you doing here so early?" I ask, cleverly changing the subject. "You normally don't make an epiphany until the bars are open."

As she reaches inside the dirty blue stole again, Winston, the Little Gay Dog, barks and snarls at her which makes her grunt. The evil sound scares the little dog and he darts inside and hides under the bed. Laying at my feet, Goddess opens one eye and watches before sighing heavily and falling back asleep.

My Guardian Angel unfolds a note. It reminds me of the notes Sarah's girls bring home from school, more wadded up than folded. She spreads it out on the patio table which serves as my desk.

"It's from God," she says.

I take my bare feet off the railing and sit up straight. "Really?" I ask.

"Do you want me to give you the damn message or not," she snaps.

I fold my hands on the table prayerfully and wait.

For dramatic effect, she takes another sip from the cup and a long drawl from the cigarette. Finally picking up the crinkled note she reads it slowly.

"Every little thing gonna be alright."

I wait.

She crumples it up and puts it back inside her stole.

"That's it?" I ask.

She sips the bourbon.

"That wasn't God," I say. "That was Bob Marley."

She shrugs her shoulders and stands.

"But," I begin and she immediately cuts me off.

"Listen," she replies. "I've known both for a long time and Bob will be the first to tell you that it was God who gave him the idea. That's not the point though. You and Sarah have a lot going on. You're in the creation process remaking your lives as they should be. God likes that. Life is always about creation. If you're not changing, taking risks, transforming, walking through the Valley of the Shadow of Death and all that shit, then you're not living. You're just existing which is nothing more than dying slowly. God likes creation people. You two have made the A List."

I've never heard her say so much and am taken aback.

"So," she continues, "every little thing's gonna be alright."

"Alright," I say and she instantly disappears and just as she does, I hear three little birds sing.
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A Million Little Things

Staring at a long leaf Palm Tree, taking a long drag off her cigarette, with a steaming cup of coffee on the heavy picnic table, she sits. Darkly tanned with short black hair, the old woman seems lost in thought on a warm Caribbean morning.

Bopping down the sandy road in bare feet, I recognize her from the picture on Travel Talk though we'd never met.

She and her husband had been coming to St. Martin for years. They planned big gatherings with friends they'd collected through the years.

"Sugarae?" I ask pausing in front of her tiny concrete patio.

I love her name.

Sugarae is southern as it gets though she was born and lives in Portland, Maine. Her name combines sugar with rays of sunshine,

Flashing a crooked grin, she nods and invites me to sit.

"It's nice to meet you," I say shaking her hand. "I read your stuff on Travel Talk."

Travel Talk is a web site for those who love the Caribbean and traveling there. Categories are divided into islands. Clink "St. Martin" and I'm suddenly a member of people who love the place like I do.

I don't remember anything else about meeting Sugarae though it was with sadness that I read on Travel Talk that she's died.

Clicking to the Conroy-Tully Crawford Funeral Home website, I find her obituary and read.

"I didn't attend the funeral," Mark Twain quipped, "but I sent a nice letter saying I approved of it."

Sarah's girls asked, "How many famous people have you met?"

Looking for themselves reading Sandy Bottoms & Duct Taped Hearts they've noticed I've met Presidents, Prophets, Priests, Philanders and other people.

I marvel at the people who have graced my life. I'm humbled by those who are part of it now.

"Friendship isn't a big thing. It's a million little things," goes an old saying.

I sit staring at three little girls who are staring at me.

"I dunno," I answer taking a sip of wine. "A lot."

"What were they like," Laurel asks.

"Just like you," I reply.

And I raise my glass to the sky thanking God for everyone of them and for sugar and sunshine.
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Life outside of the box

Is the money I make worth the price that I pay? asked Graham Nash.

I vividly remember sitting in the floor in front of the television when The Beatles were on Ed Sullivan with my Dad complaining, "They'll never be Elvis.

"And in the end ..." they were more than Elvis.

Of course there would be no Beatles without Elvis.

He came first.

The only people to come close to them since are Michael Jackson and Bob Marley.

Each were incredible trailblazers leaving massive imprints on the world. Each doing what they wanted, achieving unimagined success, becoming imprisoned by it and killing four of the six before their time.

Their music remains and annually they outsell the newest stars making today's best sounds.

It makes me wonder.

All of them stepped outside of the box, forfeiting societal norms and the expectations of others to do their own thing.

And they did their own things magnificently!

So I wonder why the rest of us aren't doing our own thing?

We spend our days and nights doing other peoples things.

Going to work, taking care of parents, fulfilling the demands of religion, living in a certain place because the schools are better for the kids, working the allotted number of years before retirement ... we become indentured servants waiting on our happiness and freedom to arrive later.

When do happiness and freedom arrive?  We can all tell stories of those who do all the right things, meet each demand, fulfill every obligation, make the sacrifices to retire ... only to die soon afterwards.

I've done my time, gave others everything, met the demands, raised the kids, fulfilled expectations and ... jumped ship.

Sarah jumped too.

We washed up on a beach, tattered, torn, hurting and alone so we did what creatively, desperate people do ... shared sandy kisses. We had Sandy Bottoms & Duct Taped Hearts!

We've made a life outside of the box since then.

We're making a career outside of the box too.

And we're doing it all wrong.

We're too young.

We're investing in us now instead of later.

We're having fun.

Elvis died too young. So did John and George. The King of Pop too. Certainly Bob Marley did.

Who knows how much time we have left?

I just know I not giving mine away anymore except to the things most important to me! Not to anyone else!

Life's better outside of the box.
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Writing my dream!

"You always wanted to be a writer," Mom says as I pick dead leafs out of flower pots on the Back Deck where the laptop is open on the picnic table and my notes are scattered. My I-Phone and pens serve as paperweights as a light ocean breeze occasionally rearrange the papers.

I'd called her needing a break from writing.

I have no recollection when I wanted to become a writer though I do recall the first time I said it publically. I'd resigned my job as my first book was released. It was time to become a full time writer so I explained this was the reason I was leaving.

The Society of Salty Saints got great reviews and had multiple printings. The publisher was interested in what else I had though I had nothing.  It was time for me get intense and give it my all. I relocated to a small barrier island perfect for inspiration and new stories and dove in the deep end of the pool.

A short time later I was broke.

While Salty Saints sold a lot of copies, I didn't make much money from it.

So I got a job to finance my writing habit. What I believed would be a short term position turned into a 23 year career. I'd been hired as a leader and both the company and my stature rose significantly, in no small part because I continued to write.

Seven more books were published during this time and one received a "Book of the Year" award. I penned numerous articles, diversified into grant writing, cultivated vignette story telling for the company newsletter and wrote countless speeches I gave.

"You could make math problems interesting," someone once quipped about me.

Though the job still paid the bills and not the writing.

The books, articles, newsletters and speeches actually marketed the company and my reputation. The company received millions of dollars and I achieved notoriety. The first skill I looked for when hiring was the ability to write.

"I'd like to see a sample of your writing," I asked one applicant. She got a pen and paper and wrote exactly what I'd said then proudly showed it to me.

"I write pretty well," she beamed.

Though her penmanship was terrific, she wasn't hired.

Over the decades I learned writing is a passion that consumes completely. A lucky few make a living at it but most keep at it for other reasons.

Every day for the past five years, I've written. Technology advancements allow me to publish it immediately which I find invigorating. Daily blogs lead to dialogue and discussion in real time. Feedback is instant. Thousands of pages are mined for potential and cultivation and Sandy Bottoms & Duct Taped Hearts, my first book written just for me, is now available.

Through these years, writing was my major coping mechanism. Navigating a complete life change, the daily musings and their immediate release, were my therapy. Anger, loss, kindness, faith, surprises, friendship, self-discovery, joy in little things and discovering new capacities to love are the constant themes. I would never have survived without writing.

I'm finally a full time writer ... at least for now. Every day, it is the core of my work. The pays not as good as the job had been but I'm living my dream. I try to help others live theirs too. It's as exhilarating as it is scary! As rebellious as it is rewarding! A fulfilling sacrifice!

"Alright Mom," I excitedly say, "I've got to get back to work."

"It'll be great," she says as she always has.

I know it will be for me ... just like it has been for so long.
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Sure Enough it's gonna be a show!

The fears I fear are never gone ... The things I know are coming on ... are not so nice to look upon ... so closely ...

Confesses Jesus in the magnificent "Cotton Patch Gospel" by Harry Chapin. It's the Gospel story set in Georgia and Jesus' on his way to Atlanta where he suspects things are not going to go so well.

The Disciples are beside themselves with excitement believing the Kingdom is finally coming on earth as it is in heaven and they have front row seats.

Jesus knows better though he gets caught up in their joy.

"What does Atlanta mean to me?" he sings as they gleefully anticipate getting to the top ... the bright lights ... the show down ... sure enough it's going to be a show.

"It means being what I'm supposed to be," Jesus answers himself.

You know what happens.

Everything goes horribly wrong and he ends up deader than a doornail, thrown in a donated grave and surrounded by 24/7 security.

But ... miraculously if you like a really good story or really do believe in miracles ... it all works out.

Security falls asleep.

People who love Jesus refuse to leave him alone.

The stone's rolled away.

Jesus gets up.

His best friend mistakes him for the gardener who keeps the cemetery looking good.

Even the Disciples who'd fled to save their asses come together and reform for a reunion tour ... though without the original lead singer.

Sure enough it's a show people still talk about.

"My Father, if it is possible, let this cup pass from me ... is how Jesus says it in the Bible.

We still tell the story all these centuries later because Jesus takes the risk, throws caution to the wind, believes in miracles without a single shred of evidence to become who he's supposed to be and ... it all works out.

Why don't we do that?

It can be our story too can't it?

Why do we get caught up in our fears, convince ourselves if we actually be who we're supposed to be ... all hell's going to break loose and our asses are going to be crucified?

We're stuck, fearing our fears, living the lives others want us to have, trading freedom for security, never taking risks or throwing caution to the wind so ... we never rise to much anything.

It's ourselves we betray and have no one to blame other than ourselves.

I've been through several crucifixions, survived divorces, betrayals, walked away from expectations of others, lost people I love and I'm the first to tell you, and I'm certain Jesus would agree, they suck and hurt like hell!

But you know what?

Just like Jesus got through his, I got through mine and these days it's pretty heavenly around here. I wouldn't change anything!

What about you?

Would you change anything?

Or are the fears you feel never gone?

I'm here to tell you ... grab hold of your fears and hang their sorry asses on the cross. Life's heavenly when you're who you're supposed to be. You can rise above the loveless living, sorry friends, things you don't care about, loss and repeatedly being hurt by those you think make you secure. If you need help, I'm here.

But you can do this!

I did.

Sure enough, my life's one hell of a show!

It's time for yours to be one too!
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