The Day my Life Began

I rarely tell this story, because honestly, it makes me look crazy.

But, here you go ...

It was a wonderful, sunny day on the Caribbean Island of St. Martin. I was alone, standing on the powder white sand of the beach, watching the waves break on the reef.

Taking a deep sigh, I tried to relax for the first time in hours.

I'd been working since 5 a.m. when the sun rose and hadn't stopped until now. It was 1:30 in the afternoon.

Hungry and tired, I needed to eat so I walked back to my tiny studio to get money and clothes and saw my phone buzzing.

Answering, it was the board chair, back in the states, making more demands of me.

He had already proven to be one of my life's major irritants. Regardless of what I did, he thought it wrong and said so. The only language he speaks is "criticism" and boy had he given me lots!

Professionally I was on top of the world, an internationally sought after expert, author, popular speaker and award winning business man.

Personally, I was recently divorced, lived alone with my dog and hated the smell of my plush office because it just made me tired. That's why I was in St. Martin, trying to get away from the sad things in my life.

"You should quit," he said when I answered the phone.

"I resign," I replied and hung up.

And my life started over that day.

Strolling back to the beach with a beer in my hand, I made a promise to myself.

"I will be happy. And I will help others be happy too. I'll do what I want. And I'll help others do what they really want too."

Let me tell you what's happened since then.

I'm married to the love of my life! Our work is helping people enjoys theirs too! We worked hard helping others to build happy lives, doing what they want and ENJOYING what they have.

It works!

Thousands of people follow the stories and are remaking their lives too!

I'm not telling you this to make you think I'm awesome or great but I want you to realize the steps I took from being a very unhappy survivor of life to make it crank now!

If you're ready to have the happy life you want, I am here, willing to pull back the curtain and show you exactly how to get there!

We've turned it into a system that gets you from where you are to where you really want to be in a very short period of time!

But there are some ground rules.

1. I'll be completely honest with you about my shit and expect you to be honest about yours. Honestly saying where you're at and honestly knowing where you want to be is the first steps to happiness. I'm here with you for each step. You got anybody else pledging you honesty?

2. I worked hard to get here. You will have to work hard too. You know the saying "You can lead a horse to water but you can't make him drink." It's the same here. I'm ready to work with you, be your partner and get you there but you have to want it AND in the end YOU HAVE TO DO IT!

Ready to get started?

Let's pull the curtain back and this journey begins! I'll show you how to get where you really want to be at www.meellc.com/onlineclass

Is your life Heaven or Hell?

I think everything mostly works out the way it should.

That's not to say there's not crazy surprises, unexpected turns, scary moments and horrible falls along the way. But there's unanticipated delights, miraculous discoveries, wonderful things and exhilarating heights too.

At least that's my life so far.

It's probably yours too.

When the bad things happen ... deaths or divorce, friends who prove they're really not, car wrecks, broken promises and nightmares of the night ... we're naturally shocked.

Then it turns into anger because we rail against the injustice of life not being perfect!

Because we want perfect lives.

Yet none of us have one.

Though lots of people pretend to.

When good things happen ... love, marriage, friends who are consistently so,  disasters that are near misses, kept promises and dreams that come true ...we are ecstatic!

Then we downplay it.

We minimize the good and exaggerate the bad.

Why are we wired that way?

The other day Johnny O and I are sitting at The Breakfast Club having coffee and he says, "We've got six-and-a-half marriages between us."

I wince because, though it's true, it's not something I care to think about.

I'm the happiest I've ever been though Sarah would often shoot me if she didn't love me so much. Johnny O's the happiest he's been since I've known him, which is a very long time.

"We should start a business together," he continues. "Anybody thinking about getting married should call us first. We'll guide them through it all. I mean ... we've already experienced everything so others should benefit from our experience.  A small fee will save lifetimes of heartache or pave the highway to happy lives like ours!"

I can't think of anything to say.

"One call ... that's all," he says with a beaming smile.

It's hard to not love Johnny O.

"Hope for the best and plan for the worst" is something I used to say.

Now I try to simply take life as it comes. I try to help others do that too.

Taken all at once life can kill you and believe me, I've watched it kill lots of people I cared about.

Life's good and bad. It's not perfect. Concentrating on the bad leaves you dead even if you're still living.

Holding onto the good makes it more enjoyable and I believe life's to be relished because, either way, it doesn't last forever.

Even the worst times have silver linings of good and the best of times always boarder on disaster.

There's Heaven and Hell.

It's just a question of which are you going to hold on to.
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Baggage

Waiting for the luggage, Sarah and the girls are excited to be home. Talking at once ... well except for Maddie who is texting, utterly oblivious they've landed, walked half-a-mile and is now standing among a crowd of people... they're exclaiming the things they did in New York City.

The carousal spits out bags one at a time as travelers jostle into a mini-mob waiting to snatch a giant suitcase or golf bag the instant it rolls down the belt.

We're standing with the more patient people as Laurel and Cassidy argue over who's rolling the bag to the car.

Arms intertwined, Sarah and I are happy to be together again in the "suddenly compact universe of skin and breath and hair."

Cass grabs my UGA tee-shirt pleading because she just turned 7 she's perfectly capable of rolling the big bag by herself.

In the same instant, Laurel machine guns words, immediately overloading me with information which mostly seems aimed at Cassidy's inability to roll luggage without supervision.

Glancing up over her little blond head I spy Fran, staring stoically with folded arms, waiting on bags, standing beside us.

For the first time, I realize I've had two Fran's in my life.

I loved one of them.

She's dead.

"Hello Fran," I say to the other with the confidence of a Congressman telling another lie, "remember Sarah?"

Pauses really can be pregnant and this one was going to be volcanic when it blew!

"Micheal," she says without a smile, arms folded, a morticians face ... and then, "Of course, Sarah," with breath from Antarctica.

Sometimes history occurs in a second.

Sarah holds me tighter, grinning beatifically, and confidently says, "Of course. Fran!" with the slightest hint of "I don't give a shit!"

Fran had been a board member of the organization where we'd both worked. After 30 years in the business I begged for a sabbatical and the board said "No" so the weight of homelessness, AIDS, poverty, despair, really bad Government and hunger did me in.

Such graveyards are full of emotions.

Two large purple and white stripped bags roll passed on the belt and Fran jerks to grab them, as though a Zombie scratching the dirt off a grave and then she's instantly gone.

Cass tackles me ... "See! I can do this!"

And she does.

Well, it tips over four times before we get to the car, but dammit, she did it.

Unlike others I've known and choose to forget.
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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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Made you plans to get through the Holidays yet? Let us help! Register for "Doing what's Right for You" beginning in December. It  will be a wonderful journey where you celebrate you! The most special gift of all. Just Click www.meellc.com/onlineclasses

How Different are you?

At the beach, life is different.

Most can only take "different" in small doses, going to the beach for a weekend or a week or two.

They have to manage being "different" while the rest of us embrace it as a complete and total lifestyle.

The beach is a world of extremes.

There's too much contemplation and too many opportunities to have fun.

Living here means you swing both of those ways because you can overdose on too much of either.

As my friend Jane Fishman told me, "On an island everybody is either running to, or from, something."

Plus there's lots of water ... and lots of alcohol.

Both are used for baptisms.

Life moves slower, probably because we're constantly confused about which way we're heading ... contemplation or fun ... to someone or from ... seeking forgiveness or just diving back in for more sins ... sunrise or sunset?

I've got friends on both sides.

The contemplative ones are all involved with the Government, passing laws, making policies and forever sprucing up Paradise.

The fun ones only notice when one of the Government's numerous employees ... policemen and policy enforcers ... pull them over to arrest us, give our dogs a ticket or issue a "Stop Work" order.

I try to slide under both radars, strolling with the dogs and a little Blessing or two, by the Back River, inhaling the smell of the Marsh, listening to the Mussels tick and pop in the mud which naturally makes you think about sex.

It's a different way to live.

My Mom will be the first to tell you I've always been different.

I've been much happier once I accepted it.

I feel really bad for those who haven't and are still trying to fit in.

Which are you?

I want to know who to say prayers for tonight.
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How will you enjoy today?

Sometimes you simply sit and stare.

Inside but somehow outside of yourself.


Staring through the open sliding glass doors at a glorious sun illuminating the water dripping from the trees, I'm just thinking.

There are no words ... just thoughts and emotions.

I'm focused on people I love.

Sarah tells me I love everybody, meaning it critically and as a warning. You're not supposed to love everybody because they screw you in the end and that's true of lots of people.

And I've certainly been screwed ... and it hurt ... and they left not giving a damn ... blaming me somehow ... and those I thought cared didn't ... and I was shocked at who did!

But the truth of the matter is I'm a Daydream believer.

I imagine and don't think I'm the only one.

I'm a fool, for Christ's sake, but there's wisdom in there somewhere if we really are Daydream believers, meaning we're honored and dishonored in life.

I've certainly been both.

But that's life! It's what you do with it that matters most.

God made life, gave it to us and now it's ours to do with what we want.

Or to not do anything with it.

Sarah's away visiting her parents in New York so everything is a bit out of sorts. The dogs understand somehow because they follow me closely whenever I move. The house is too quiet. It's just a house when she's not here. I'll be glad when she gets home though I'm glad she and the girls are having a good time.

Johnny O interrupts these thoughts with a barrage of text messages. He's asking about my son Jeremy though it quickly dissolves into really bad humor that has me roaring in laughter.

Ah, it's a good day to do good things, as my friend Dicky Trotter says.

I'm going to enjoy it.

I hope you enjoy yours too.
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Join the Journey that begins in December 2013 to "Do the right things for you!"

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A Repulsively Erotic Morning

Every single night, Winston, the Little Gay Dog (TLGD), prances into our bed room, lithely jumps on the bed and snuggles next to Sarah, fur touching skin.

It's repulsively erotic.

After licking himself, he balls up beside her bare back, falls asleep and purrs like a Pussy Cat.

Goddess sleeps on the floor in the doorway protecting us from whatever she fears may come in the night. She snores loudly and Winston, TLGD, ever-the-Diva, snarls with his eyes closed but Goddess could care less.

She's stoned.

Sarah can sleep through nuclear explosions, unless one of her girls whimpers or rolls over, then she bolts upright while some radar sensors beam through walls making certain her "little Blessings" are alright before immediately falling back into a deep sleep.

On the other hand, I could fall out of bed, hit the floor, burst into spontaneous combusted flames and she wouldn't even roll over.

That's our nights.

Every night.

Winston, TLGD, typically is staring at me when I open my eyes and the little Son-of-a-Bitch, and I mean that literally, yawns in my face.

He's having another of his "Cher" moments.

So I reach into the dresser Drawer, pull out the baggie with his balls inside and wave them in front of his face.

Sarah moans so I quickly put them back in the drawer.

Goddess is wide awake now wanting a snack.

Throwing Winston, TLGD, out of bed I snuggle with my wife.

He snarls.

I flip him the finger and snuggle Sarah tighter.

He licks himself then puts on a black sweater vest with pink words that read, "U R Why I Am GAY."

He smiles and prances away.

That's pretty much our wake up routine every day.

It's repulsively erotic.

What's your wake up routine?
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Interested in more deep, inspiring writing? Check out  my new book "Sandy Bottoms & Duct Taped Hearts" at www.meellc.com/newbook

The Boy Is On Fire

"Can we walk outside for a moment," he says interrupting me, "you're filling up this room and I need to breath."

I don't know what to say and keep quiet as we walk out on the Beloved Back Deck.

Kyle places his hands on the railing, closes his eyes and takes deep breaths.

I plop in a chair to give him space.

It's a beautiful day with a bright sun, slight ocean breeze and everything is blooming brilliant blues, pinks, reds and whites. 

Taking my shirt off to work on my tan, I toss it on the table and watch him open his eyes and smile at the Palm Tree with the oyster eyes.

"Is that Fran?" he asks pointing at the wall of trees that canopy the privacy fence.

Nodding my head I watch his smile broaden and he turns towards me. He is very tall with long wavy brown hair cascading his shoulders. The flowing white shirt he wears gives the impression he's the ghost of a Shaman because his skin is very pale.

"Whew," he smiles sitting down, "you have so much energy it was overwhelming me and I need more space.

"I'd rather be out here," I shrug.

His smile is beatific and there is a sweetness about the man. Sarah and I had agreed to help him if we could and he was asking for it now.

"So as I was saying, I've done music my whole life. I've never worked a 9-5 job but I got a nice house, food in the Fridge and cable television!"

The way he says it is filled with wonderment and pride so it makes me smile.

"But I want more. I'm tired of the bars. And I have this chance," he explains. "I've been asked to combine my music with speaking in Churches and workshops across several states."

That's why he's here. I'm coaching him on getting his story together, doing it right and building an arsenal of antidotes he can whip out whenever he needs it.

That was a couple of months ago but yesterday I received a message from him on Facebook with a link to his most recent speech.

"The boy is on fire," he wrote.

Clicking the link, I listened to his marvelous story perfectly delivered to a group in Greensville, South Carolina as I sat in the same chair on the same deck without a shirt on perfectly beautiful day.
His speech made me smile. (Check him out at https://soundcloud.com/thespiritcenter/kyle-shiver-sel-realization !)

"The boy has indeed come a very long way in a very short period of time," I wrote him. "I'm proud of you."

And I sat there and kept right on smiling.
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Join the Journey that begins in December 2013 to "Do the right things for you!"

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The Book Club

"It's a bit like becoming a Monk," I explain. "Not in any sort of bad way but life now is a lot of silence, contemplation and waiting on words to come."

Dicky nods head, stroking his beard and says softly to the ceiling, "I understand."

The other members of the group, all women, stare at me without expression.

Sarah stares too, sitting beside me, listening every intently. She's heard me say this before taking it as a negative reflection of our life though I never meant it that way. Now she seems to be hearing it in a different way.

Ours is a crazy schizophrenic life. A large portion of each day is filled with quiet, solitary work that demands lots of concentration with little interaction with others. That's the Monkish part, working from home managing virtual relationships and occasionally orchestrating "community".

When Sarah's girls are here its a relentless series of constant demands and a schedule that takes both of us to manage. We're always carting them some place or the other, often meeting in the middle to swap them off before heading in different directions again. We try to expose them to the world at our house to balance the cloistered upbringing they have at their fathers. Afterwards we collapse.

"If money wasn't an option and you were wealthy, what would be on your bucket list?" Nancy asks the members of the Book Club.

When it's my turn I say, "Well first I'd hire Dicky to take all my phone calls and tell everyone 'No' unless I over ride him to say 'Yes' to someone."

He gives me a thumbs up saying he would be good at it.

"Then I'd buy a large plush House Boat and park it just off shore. Sarah, the girls and I will live there and we'd move if it ever got cold. I never want to be cold again."

Several agree with the last sentiment.

I'm struck my goal to live on a House Boat to be secluded from others is when I'm already living a pretty cloistered life.

It's funny.

I want more of what I've already got.

Everyone leaves so Sarah and I end up in the kitchen sharing thoughts, concerns, hopes and dreams. She munches on toast while I sip wine. It is most intimate.

We are pleased with tonight's gathering of the Book Club. It's a lot like life. People come and go in it and we're never certain whose who but it keeps happening, bringing a joyous fellowship that boarders on worship.
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"Doing the Right Things for you" is a 28 day online journey to making life the way you know it should be for you. It begins December 2013. Check it out at www.meellc.com/onlineclass

Ghosts in the fire

The sun hangs muted in a grey sky. Ocean breezes are chilled though it's not cold yet I have a fire in the Cheminea for comfort more than warmth. The birds are silent while squirrels frolic in the trees. Soft music streams proclaiming everyone's gone to the moon.  Holiness reigns and I feel Angels though I can't see them.


I sit in prayer but it's a perplexing one sided conversation.

God doesn't feel like talking so I finally shut up and stare at the fire.

Sarah meanders into the kitchen, lost in thought drinking coffee while writing herself notes.

The sun escapes the clouds and for a second everything is bright but it doesn't last and grey returns.

The faces of old friends dance in the flames as I continue to stare. One after another they parade pass though they are long gone from me. We were close once but they were moments in time and have moved out of my life.

I wonder if they ever think about me.

I was really there for them, pulling strings and doing magic, helping them get to where they wanted to go. Most never said "Thanks", just taking what they needed and moving on.

Why am I thinking about them now?

Throwing Palm fronds in the fire, they crackle and hiss chasing the ghosts away.

The vacuum cleaner sucks and blows from inside the house reminding me there are things to be done. A few friends arrive later today for fellowship. Afterwards, we'll make our way to the American Legion for an hour of good music.

"Hey God," I say out loud, "you don't have to say anything but I appreciate the friends I've still got. They're damn good ones! Sarah too! I don't know what I'd do without her. All the kids! That's all. Just thanks."

As I turn to walk inside the sun bursts brilliantly through the clouds.
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Our Neighbor, The Bride of Frankenstein

"Can I have your pumpkins when you're finished with them if they are still viable," read the note taped to the front door, "I will even bring you a treat back."

We'd been away for several days so we had no idea how old the note was.

A week earlier we'd carved pumpkins, placing them in the front yard with six different facial expressions cut, some menacing and others goofy. One was smoking a giant "Doobie".

The note was from our neighbor, the crazy woman who gardens in her underwear.

Before you jump to any conclusions, this is not a pretty sight!

Nevertheless she strolls outside, wavy white hair blowing in the wind, wearing a dirty white bra and granny panties, happily singing to prune her garden. She's a fatter version of the Bride of Frankenstein.

Birds flee, dogs moan, doors are locked and even the Cat Lady's feral cats hide. Winston, the Little Gay Dog, darts to his pad under our bed and Goddess lays in the floor covering her head with her paws. Sarah frantically tries to cover the girls eyes as they try to look. I throw up a little in my mouth.

Throwing the note on the table we unpack and get on with our day.

Later it looks like rain and the dogs haven't had a walk so I hurry and take them. Just as mist turns to light rain, we return home and I look at the pumpkins.

One's completely caved in one itself. A few are black and a couple are moldy so I grab the trash can and throw them inside and hurry to make my way inside.

"Why did you do that?" I hear just as I open the door.

Turning, the fat Bride of Frankenstein stares at me from under an umbrella, wearing the dirty white bra and granny panties, white hair askew as though she's just been hit by a bolt of lightening.

"They were melted from the sun," I explain trying not to look.

"THERE IS NO SUN," she yells.

Shrugging my shoulders, I turn to walk away.

"WHAT ABOUT MY PIES?" she demands.

"What's going on?" Sarah asks, suddenly appearing from nowhere.

Stopping dead in my tracks, the hair on my neck stands straight up. The air is suddenly sucked out of the entire block. There isn't a sound. Goddess and Winston, the Little Gay Dog, rush down and stand on either side of me.

We know ... this was going to be bad ... and they don't want to miss any of it!

"YOUR HUSBAND JUST LIED TO ME AND TOLD ME THOSE PUMPKINS MELTED IN THE SUN ..." the fat Bride of Frankenstein starts.

I've never heard a nuclear explosion so I don't really know. But I imagine it sounds something like what happened next.

The fat Bride of Frankenstein stops talking because she sees it coming. Goddess and Winston, the Little Gay Dog, turn their heads just in the nick of time. Sarah's girls rush outside to watch.

KLA-BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM!

Sarah explodes and there's this flash of white light.

When I open my eyes the fat Bride of Frankenstein is gone.

The sky's blue, the sun shinning, birds sing and I swear to God Angels are singing with them.

Sarah stands before me as beautiful as ever with Goddess and Winston, the Little Gay Dog, standing beside her. Sarah's girls are cheering.

"Don't worry Honey," she sweetly says, "I took care of it."

Rushing inside, I pour a glass of wine, gulp it down and pour another. Frantically, I search for the "To-Do" list that my wife had given me several days earlier, find it and start knocking things off of it with frightening speed.

"HOLY SHIT!" I keep saying.

"I didn't know she could do that!"

So who are you in this story?
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♦ “Derrick disappeared for like 2 HOURS last night when your book came in the mail!”- Michelle Hodge

Order your copy now at www.meellc.com/newbook

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

Order yours now at www.meellc.com/newbook

It's time to invest in you!

"I enjoyed the session tonight," reads the email.

"Good job!" the instant message proclaims.

Last evening, sitting on the back deck on a chilly evening beside a roaring fire, I taught a class on writing. It's the initial session in the form of a teleseminar. Initially, it's a lot of story telling on my part with a great deal of personal introspection on theirs. First we discover the story demanding to be released, meet the writer inside and finally slide into the act of crafting words.

Immediately after the class, I began receiving messages. The instant gratification of getting it right makes anyone feel good.

I certainly did and today I still do.

My whole life, I've helped others sort through problems, overcome barriers, discover who they really should be, harness hope and make life better than what it had been. Through the wonderful worlds of technology I now work with people throughout the world who are committed to making their life better NOW!

That's a pretty bold statement but if you boil down a 30 year career, that's exactly what I've done.

The biggest discovery for me has been people's inabilities to believe in themselves!

Refusing to spend money on YOU to grow and be better is crazy! Forever putting off investments in YOURSELF until later means most never get around to it. We imprison our own dreams, calling it self-sacrifice for those we love. We give everything to the kids, our parents, the church and often a collection of friends who don't return much anything in-kind.

IT'S JUST INSANE!

We have this one life to make the most of and there's no day but today to believe in, and  invest in, YOU!

My job is to help you understand this so you can start living the life you want now!

Today I challenge you to make an investment in yourself. Take some extra time for you just because you deserve it dammit! Treat yourself to something you enjoy. Indulge yourself in one thing today!

Because no one else will.

When all's said and done, you are the only one who can get to the life you want to have so make a tiny investment in that now! And learn how to keep investing in you! That's the only way to get away from messes surrounding us and to the glories of who you really are!
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In December we're offering "Doing the right things for you!" just in time for the Holidays when too many get the blues. Learn more at http://www.meellc.com/wordpress/onlineclass/

Come Monday is it alright?

It's Monday and you're either hauling ass back to work or wishing you were.

There's either regrets left over from the weekend or joyful residue because it was so great.

All of your sins have been washed away or you've missed the mark so many times there's no reason to care anymore.

You can't wait for the day to begin, already wish it were over or are merely biding time until the end of the week.

Sunday is full of promises that the slate may be wiped clean and we can start over but it's Monday that proves the Sabbath's commitments.

Come Monday, what is it?

I've lived each of Monday's various incarnations. I dreaded it when I was in school, couldn't wait for it when I was employed as a "Professional Christian," enjoyed it as my career hit stride, came to passionately hate it as thirty years of  giving everything away to others took its toil and now gladly accept it as another day I've been given to live.

It's as much of a gift as Sunday or the rest of them.

It's mine to do with what I want or I can carry it like a burden for others to see.

It's started slowly for me as we watched the sun rise from bed listening to the waves make love to the shore. A two hour drive awaits before I dive into a very full work day that will end tonight around eight, long after the day ends.

I'm looking forward to it, actually enjoying it already.

It might be the last one I'm ever given.

I don't want to waste it.

What are you doing today?
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 “Check out Micheal Elliott’s new book, Sandy Bottoms & Duct Taped Hearts! Heartwarming musings about life, God, second chances and much more.”- Jefferson Ross . Get your copy now at www.meellc.com/newbook

Where to live?

I could live here.

Here is a tiny seaside condo with a glass wall spilling onto a concrete deck standing beside sand dunes allowing a completely unobstructed view of the ocean.

The doors are open and the hypnotic, rhythmic, crashing of the waves is the only sound. A blazing sun hangs in a white blue sky and on the horizon are cotton candy clouds that I can barely make out.

It is a tiny two bedroom twice as long as it is wide, white panel and blue stucco interior, tastefully decorated, light and airy. It's very economic and efficient.

"I could live here," Sarah pronounces, "if it was just in another country."

I agree.

We have a dream of living in a house with a sand yard, landscaped with Palm Trees, sunflowers and Hibiscus. We like the idea of southern Belize where it never gets cold, the dollar is strong and the people are nice. It's far less crowded than St. Martin which has long been where I would have chosen but we're moving on to other things.

While Sarah likes the first snowfall of the year and then again on Christmas Day, I don't ever want to see the stuff again.

Aside from Tybee Island, the only other place we'd choose to live in the U. S. is around the corner from our good friend Joey Finch in Key West or on the house boat I've always wanted.

But life is getting in the way.

"We have to wait until the girls finish school," she says. "They're in really excellent schools."

"Honey, I say exasperated at her logic, "if we all lived on a house boat any time we didn't like the schools or the neighbors, we'd just move to another place with better schools and neighbors."

She rolls her eyes.

Plus my kids are all busy building their lives and its fun to watch and be an occasional participant. I think they should all get a house boat so we could launch a "Family Fleet."

It's alright though. Sarah and I have a day to ourselves in this tiny little place in north Florida. There is nothing on the agenda. We have no "To-Do" list. She said last night we may not even stroll down the beach for dinner but order in instead.

It's that kind of day.

We have plenty of time to plan for when the time comes to go.
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♦ “I received my copy of Sandy Bottoms & Duct Taped Hearts. It was just wonderful. I laughed, I cried, I shook my fist and the sky and said ;You tell em Micheal!’ I’ll be picking it up again, re-reading some of my favorite passages.” Sharron Brand

Order your copy now at www.meellc.com/newbook

Listening to the Sea

There's just something about a beach!

I just can't get enough of them.

"Let me get this straight," I was once asked. "You live at the beach and when you vacation you go to another beach?"

"Yes," I confidently reply.

"That's just not right."

It was the stupidest question I've ever been asked.

The beach is where God started when creation begins so I figure there's no better way to start and end every single day.

I've never met a beach I haven't loved. Even the cold weather beaches like in Rhode Island or Roche Harbor Washington have a charm that soothes my soul.

Personally though, I love the hot weather beaches where clothing is optional, bicycles are the preferred mode of transportation and food is best consumed outside.

This morning Sarah and I lay in bed with the doors open listening to the waves kiss the shore. A light rain is falling so the ocean is calm and flat with rhythmic swells that are mesmerizing. Time slows and whatever is happening in the rest of the world doesn't matter.

I've been this way my whole life having been born with salt water in my blood.

Luckily, Sarah's dream has always been to live at the beach so I have the joy of participating with her as she discovers all of the wonder of ocean side living.

There's not much to say laying here listen to what the sea has to say.

So that's what I'm going to do.
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Read more in my new book "Sandy Bottoms & Duct Taped Hearts" at www.meellc.com/newbook

Happy Day of the Dead!

Happy Day of the Dead!

I'm not really certain if that's the appropriate greeting but I like the Day of the Dead.

Originating with the Aztec Indians in Mexico, it's a day for family and friends to gather and remember friends and family members who have died.

In Christianity, it's called All Saint's Day to remember and celebrate all of those who are in Heaven, which is a better way of saying, "They're not dead, they're in Heaven!"

* There is no mention of remembering anybody who went to Hell instead of Heaven on All Saints Day who are also dead which is merely the Christian way of saying "Aw, to hell with them!"

I like the "Day of the Dead" better.

It says it like it is.

People I love died.

I'm not big fan of death but I understand and accept the fact that it happens.

Given my druthers, I like to have all friends and family back but that's simply not the way life works.

The Day of the Dead makes time to remember them and to celebrate the fact they lived. This is done by cooking the person's favorite food, having a picnic at the grave and celebrating their lives.

I think that's a good way to do it.

It would take me a month or so to get the celebrations done. Granddad and Grandma Carver, Dad, Uncle Fred, Ricky, Rick, Sheri, Uncle Bud, Granddad and Grandma Elliott, Aunt Regis, Uncle Ruben ... Hell that's two weeks worth of celebrating right there!

And that's just my family!

Bubba, Fran, Chicago Bob, Trolley Joe, Georgia, Bruce Barns, Chester Fawbush, Joe Bridges, Rodger Pack, Sidney Daniels, Dan Sheehan ... SHIT! Naming all of my friends who have died is going to take a long time so that's just going to make the celebration last longer.

Like I said, the Day of the Dead celebration is going to take a month or so in my case!

Though, the truth is hardly a day goes by that I don't think about them.

They're still alive in my heart where I keep them safe and hold them dear. My Dad and I still have beers together, Bubba still makes me laugh, Fran's still teaching me green, Chicago Bob feeds me his great lines when I need them, and Grandma Carver says prayers with me in the middle of the night.

I don't know how I would get through a day without them.

I celebrate them every day so I suppose, for me at least, every day is the Day of the Dead.

It's not morose, macabre or weird that I can still feel Trolley Joe's arm around my shoulders when I'm having a shitty day or Dan Sheehan's always there when I'm having to do something I really don't want or Uncle Fred reminds me when I need to exhibit grace.

As time passes my friends and family who have died become more precious to me and I find myself interacting with them more some days than when they were alive. I delight in them and am increasingly thankful they graced my life. I don't focus much on the fact that they're gone but concentrate intensely that they were here. I would never have become me without them.

It's a good Day of the Dead!

I'm already celebrating!

How are you going to celebrate it?
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Ready for a good read? My new book "Sandy Bottoms & Duct Taped Hearts" is now available at http://www.meellc.com/wordpress/newbook/

Halloween Inspiration

It is a perfect day!

A bright sun hangs in a crystal blue sky with the slightest wisps of white stretching out like fingers holding heaven in place.

A lite breeze blows salt air from the ocean and Fran's thousand shades of green shimmy ever so slightly. Birds sing hymns of glory from the branches of palm trees. Squirrels play chase on the wooden fence. Goddess lays at my bare feet as I marvel at the sheer beauty of this day.

It changes in an instant.

"HERE KITTY! KITTY! KITTY!" screeches a horrible voice sounding like long fingernails scraping over a blackboard.


I jump straight up in the deck chair and pee my black running shorts a little. Goddess bolts inside. The birds fly away and the squirrels hide behind trees. Even the white finger like clouds disappear while a black one appears from nowhere blocking the sun.

"HERE KITTY! KITTY! KITTY!" she screeches again as my butt slams back into the chair.

Standing on her deck wearing a dirty pink terry cloth bathrobe, fuzzy yellow slippers with a blue towel wrapped high on her head she looks like Marge Simpson on meth.

A hundred black feral cats respond to her commands as though a gathering of Witches Covens. Her yard is a dark forest, the house is moldy and even the seashells decorating her porch are black. Snakes slither around her carport which is filled with bottles and canisters surely containing ingredients for her potions.

"HERE KITTY, KI ... oh, Good Morning Mike," she hisses.

Where's my freaking Guardian Angel when I need her?

In every life there is darkness. Things go bump in the night. Scary dreams sometimes come true. Hurt slams into hearts and hate eclipses love. People do mean things, others counted on leave and fires are lit to burn out happiness. Cats moan, lightening flashes, thunder rolls and there is hell on earth.

"Morning," I reply trying to not look at her.

"What are you and Sarah doing for Halloween?"

"Hmmmm ... not sure yet," I mumble.

"Me neither," she screeches.

"HERE KITTY! KITTY! KITTY!" and my skin crawls.

Strolling inside Sarah is frantically trying to calm Goddess and Winston, the Little Gay Dog, down from being traumatized.

"Hey," I say ignoring her efforts, "do we have any blue towels? Don't the girls have pink bathrobes?"

"Yes," she answers. "Why?"

"I know what we going to be for Halloween."
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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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In just 60 days I will help you so that you are writing the book you have always wanted to write. Or writing the compelling grant argument to secure needed funds. Or writing the short story to submit to a magazine. You don't want to miss this! Just a few spaces left. Starts this Friday. http://www.meellc.com/wordpress/writingworkshop/

What would you call it?

Winston, the Little Gay dog, has taken the day off so he can get his nails done.

He got all dressed up in a black fur sweater with "Two Pairs beat a Straight" written in  pink on it with matching pink ascot as the Managing Partner drove the literal Son-of-a-bitch to his appointment.

Goddess and I believe the Managing Partner plays favorites.

Goddess is all bumped out, claims her eyes are killing her and is doubling up on the medicinal marijuana. I told her to slow down her consumption and could barley make her out through the hazy cloud as she replied, "Well just call me Spiderman because I'm in love with Mary Jane!"

I called Johnny O to talk to her. He knows much more about these things that I do.

Things started getting crazy when my book Sandy Bottoms and Duck Taped Hearts came out before his book which doesn't even have a title yet.

His book is done but he can't make up his mind what to call it.

First it was going to be "Winston, the Little Gay Dog" until we told him that's a pretty bland title and he got mad.

A few days later he prances in and announces he will call it, "Winston comes Home-Oh!"

Goddess and I burst into laughter telling him that's a stupid title so he storms off to complain to the Managing Partner.

His next idea was "Goodbye Balls! A True Horror story!" and that's when Goddess began doubling up on her medicinal marijuana treatments.

"Winston discovers Big Ben's a Clock?" was next.

At that point the Managing Partner intervened and is spending more time placating him.

She made out this big "To-Do" list for us but Goddess ran out of rolling paper it went up in smoke.

I'll be glad when Winston, the Little Gay Dog, can figure out what his book's going to be called.

At this point I'm sure he's open for suggestions if anyone has any.

The release date is soon and he's growing desperate.

I really do hope getting his nails done calms him down.

Poor little thing.
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In just 60 days Micheal Elliott will help you so you are writing the book you have always wanted to write. Or writing the compelling grant argument to secure needed funds. Or writing the short story to submit to a magazine. You don't want to miss this! Just a few spaces left. Starts this Friday. http://www.meellc.com/wordpress/writingworkshop/