Wandering June

Wandering June

I was blessed to enjoy a solo 18-day odyssey of Colorado in May. I relish the research involved in learning about new places to see and unique activities to undertake. I mean, research is my life! I relish creating a driving itinerary and enjoy comparing the prices, services and amenities offered in various locales.

As my trip unfolded, unusual happenstances occurred, which are the hallmark of my life. For example, when I thought I had registered for a fundamental yoga class, it turned out to be an hour of fundamental jujitsu. I had little idea what that entailed, but I had driven to their studio for exercise and I was determined to move my body, no matter what.

I was promptly outfitted in a gee by a sweet and highly patient company rep, another occurrence demonstrating how unpredictable my life can be.

I participated in the various warm-up exercises without issue. “Oh, I can do this,” I thought smugly.

Then, shoulder rolls commenced and I knew I had met my match.

I bowed respectfully to the Sensei (teacher) to communicate I appreciated his assistance, but I was bowing out. I wanted to stretch my limbs in ways that helped me combat the discomforts I experienced due to arthritis. I also knew if I tried those somersaults, my classmates (30+ adult males and teenage boys and two teenage girls) would have rolled over me repeatedly. Everyone but me was somersaulting beautifully on their shoulders, one roll after the other down the long mat, five rows across. Imagine Twister and Cirque de Soleil, all in one, rolling towards you. I would have slowed everyone . . . to a crawl.

The situation was comical, but I didn’t dare laugh or giggle during class. That would have been incredibly disrespectful. But I sure did smile inside, knowing that once again, I had done things my way, even that day in the jujitsu class.

When I stretch my limbs, my mind frees and wanders. Topics flit through my head. As usual, writing and words are the focus of my thoughts. For example, I might see a word on a wall, and then I spell as many other words as I can using the letters of the target word.

Yup. Pretty exciting stuff.

As a freelance writer, I try to drum up viable story ideas nearly every waking moment. It can be maddening, but I can’t help it. Crafting an article suggestion that might appeal to at least one editor is not as simple as “Poof. Here’s my idea.” It takes time to massage an idea into an actual article query I send to an editor in the hope of attracting their favor.

A freelance writer needs to be aware of a publication’s demographics. An article about training bras would not be appropriate for a website aimed at Baby Boomers. If I don’t know the editor to whom I hope to pitch a story, I research them online before I send off my query. I try to discover anything we might have in common, like both of us graduating from the University of Cincinnati, for example. Having something in common with an editor is usually a great way to instantly connect with someone.

I’m looking for a nugget of familiarity, something I can write briefly about when I reach out, something to break the ice. That technique has opened many doors for me. I implore you to try it yourself.

I did a lot of stretching and therefore, thinking, during my time in the Centennial State. I’m excited to be back in front of my laptop where my fingers tap out the words of the articles I have sought to write.

Feels great.

No matter where I go or what I do, my life consistently revolves around one subject: Words.

What does your life revolve around?

~ Tami
(c)Tami Kamin Meyer, 2022, all rights reserved

No Words

My niece has been sick with cancer for 499 days. On Tuesday, day 500, she died. She was 24 years old. I have no words to express my sadness. It’s too fresh. Too raw. Too real. In time, with distance, I’ll be able to put words to it all.

For now, I am making notes about what I heard, saw, felt, smelled. Making lists of colors and names. And I am letting myself rest. It’s been a long 500 days and yet they went by too quickly. I am so sad, but the written word cannot encompass all I feel. Even these precious words are not enough.

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