Motivational Monday Poem: Starlit March
Spring into action
Speak with passion
March to the beat
Of your heart’s rhythm
Look ahead to tomorrow
As you walk alongside
The prints of those who came before
Reach for the stars
Within your soul
And as you march,
Leave a trail of starlight
For the generations yet to come.
Motivational Monday Poem: Masterpiece of Tone
Color used as weapons
To identify, segregate, and diminish
Light and dark, white and black
Opposites in shades but not humanity
We are beautiful, all masterpieces of tone
Creating a unified harmony
That celebrates our differences
Instead of weaponizing them
We are the same color within
And the auras that surround us
Matter significantly more than
The pigment of our skin
YA Novel Status Update
It’s been but a few weeks since I restarted querying agents for my Young Adult novel, and I’m surprised to have already received three rejections. It’s not the “I’ve been rejected?!” part that surprises me, it’s the quick response. In all three instances the agents replied within five days of my query. Whereas I once would have been plagued with doubts (Did they hate it? Was it evidently awful?) of my writing ability, I am all the more motivated by each response I receive. For one prompt rejection email provides me with new information as to how to move forward. If all three of the agents were similar in their wish lists, submission guidelines, or desired genres then I’d have to re-examine my agent criteria research.
Even more so than the new details rejections offer, each one clears the way towards finding the agent/publisher who “gets” my book. The one who will understand and embrace the story, characters, and tone of the novel. Someone who will love it, fight for it, and champion it as much as I do. I’m not going to change who I am or how I write to sell a book – I will sell my book because of how I write and who I am.
I’m moving forward on my path towards publication and am looking for those who want to take that journey with me.
Two Sisters – Two Variants of Feminism
My older sister and I once got into a disagreement about my inclination to buy a doll dressed in a pretty dress rather than one in work attire, in the middle of a beloved theme park. Four years of age separated us but our perspectives on the term “female” widened the relationship gap for most of our time together.
Growing up, I thought feminism equaled anger, man hate, anti-femininity/princesses/maternal inclination. I loved children, dresses, fairytale princesses, manners, compassion, and kindness. I hate conflict and confrontation, preferring time to reflect and see the positive in the midst of angry responses. I wanted to get married and have children, yet I believe wholeheartedly that true love was not just possible but based on mutual respect and unconditional love.
I thought that in order to be a feminist you had to burn bras, refuse to wear skirts/dresses, and try as hard as possible to show disdain for anything lady-like. It seemed to me that if you were a feminist, then you immediately distrusted men and had a penchant for complaining. I viewed feminism as a movement driven by anger that sought to distance itself from classic ideologies of femininity. As an adult I understand the reasons why but as a teenager and young adult I saw it as a judgement against those of us, like myself, who embraced the very feminine traits that feminists sought to fight against.
As one who hated confrontation, I didn’t know how to discuss this dichotomy with my staunchly feminist older sister. “She must think me weak, naïve, and gullible,” I often wondered. My active involvement in the Catholic Church probably didn’t help bridge the understanding gap, but I never told her that I felt connected to Catholicism because of the feminine aspect. I loved Mother Mary and adored her sometimes more than that of her son. I saw her as brave, kind, loving, nurturing, and strong beyond words. I didn’t admire her because the church tried to make her the epitome of virginity, purity, and unfair depiction of the subservient gender. To me, she was just the opposite – it was her kindness, compassionate spirit, nurturing tendency, and unconditional love that kept her moving when faced with hatred, violence, anger, and unspeakable grief.
But I didn’t know how to say that to my sister without fear of being judged or told I am keeping the women’s movement from progressing. I felt as misunderstood as the women she so vehemently fought to give a voice to. So that day in the amusement park as she lectured me about how buying a doll in princess clothes instead of one in a business suit set the women’s movement back decades, I sat in silence, misunderstood and hurt more than I could convey.
It wasn’t until my early twenties, as a sat in a Gender & History university class, that I realized that feminism didn’t mean hating the male species – it meant embracing women as they are now, in whatever capacity that entailed. Whether you preferred wearing fancy dresses or flowing attire without breast support, you were a woman whose voice was worthy of being heard. Your voice should not and could not be silenced by those of any gender. In one beautiful, transformative moment I felt understood and accepted for the complex, fairy-tale embracing woman I’d always been. I didn’t have to disavow myself from the roles, labels, or traits that made me, me. In the nearly twenty years since, I proudly wear the feminist label – championing the belief that our worth, ability, or opportunity should never be judged by our gender, race, or sexual orientation.
My sister died almost two years ago, and I am incredibly proud of the fierce, passionate, determined woman she was and still is wherever her spirit may be. My only regret is that I never told her so or knew whether she felt the same of me.
Motivational Monday Poem: Feminine Spirit
I am a girl
Different in body
Equal in mind and spirit
From that of my male counterparts
I am a lady
Comfortable in pretty gowns
With elegance and manners intact
Beauty exists as much within as without
I am a woman
Neither inferior nor superior
Strong in a belief of acceptance for all
With a thirst for education and art
I am a feminine spirit
One formed from love,
Compassion, bravery, and strength
From those who came before and the lives I lived prior
For all of the above and
In honor of generations to come
I stand in solidarity for the time is now!
Sins of My Ancestors
As you can see in the image provided, sixty-nine percent of my genealogical DNA is of Great Britain descent, with an additional 26% from Ireland/Scotland/Wales and Eastern Europe. The remaining 5% is sprinkled through Southern and Western Europe, Central Asia, Middle East, and Melanesia. I am proud of my heritage for it led me here, however, I am cognizant of the reality that the color of my skin and that of my ancestors gives me a perspective spotted by privilege.
I cannot go back in time and change the actions, thoughts, or beliefs of any ancestral relation who may have held racist, misogynist, or ethnically-biased views. I wonder if my Irish and Slovakian immigrants, who may have faced prejudice based on their homeland of origin, were more supportive of people of color. Or did they project the racial tension aimed their way onto another group? I would very much like to think the former, but until I have a better understanding of the place and time in which they lived it is only an assumption based on ignorance.
For as much as I look back on the stories of those who came before me, I do so with the understanding that the story will always be fiction. I can assume, suppose, or guess reasons for their actions and moral values based on religious or cultural beliefs, but I can never truly know how they felt or what they said in the privacy of their home.
- Did my white male ancestors treat others as inferior or subservient based on their gender, skin color, or religion?
- Did any of them (male or female) march in support of women’s or civil rights or were they on the sidelines spouting hate?
- Did my “wealthier” relations give of their time or money to help those less fortunate?
- Did they leave the world better than they found it?
I’ve recently realized that though I spout liberal views I’ve never sought answers to any of the questions above. More importantly, if I asked the same of myself, what would my true responses be? By glossing over the past with rose-speckled glasses, I’ve remained ignorant of history’s reality. I can’t change the actions of those before me but I can, and choose to, move forward with clarity, respect, love, and a refreshed perspective. My soul tears at the thought of the possible sins of my ancestors and of those I may have committed (intentionally or not). When I look in the mirror I see someone wrapped in a peach-colored cocoon of safety, comfort, and ignorance. I am embarrassed and ashamed that I’ve chosen to sit on the sidelines (wary of confrontation and others’ opinions) while my fellow brothers and sisters fight every day to be seen and treated as equals.
In order to heal, I must choose to open my heart and mind, and speak truth to power. Hopefully, my great-great-great nieces and nephews won’t have to wonder or assume how I’d answer the questions posed above.
Sunday SoulJourn: Lights, Camera, Acting
Life’s path winds, twists, and circles along my spiritual journey. Many times over the course of four decades I’ve stopped moving, remained stuck in quicksand, or shook with fear.
The belief that I must keep moving forward provided inspiration and energy when fatigue or frustration set in. How do I take that first step? I let my artistic spirit be my guide. An integral connection between art and spirituality leads me through – giving me a much-needed push, a rope on which to pull me out, or a comforting embrace for courage. Art heals, inspires, and, motivates – of this I have no doubt.
Such was the case recently when I stepped outside of my comfort zone and participated as a background actor in the film COFFEE WITH GOD. For my first foray into background acting, the spirit artist within couldn’t have chosen better than the cast and crew of this inspiring film.
Twenty years ago I decided to take the path unknown by registering for an acting class in college. I relished the two-year experience, my spirit fulfilled and engaged. I could have kept walking down that spotlit path had I heeded the advice and support from my acting professor. “Have you considered pursuing this as a career?” Instead of taking the road I only briefly traveled, I choose a safer path though the words of my mentor haunt me all these years later.
Music, writing, film/TV/theatre are not simply hobbies for me. They are key elements of my spiritual identity. I am an artistic spirit and after twenty years of writing about the dedicated artists in front of and behind the scenes I circled back to acting. I followed my instinct and made outreach when I learned background actors were needed for a local film shoot. “Do it,” my spirit pleaded. “We need this.” I listened and opened a door that I’d closed many years prior.
On a recent Saturday, I was both energized and moved on the set of COFFEE WITH GOD. Actor, writer, director Nick Lanciano (Lanciano Productions) created an environment that was professional, laid back, and fun. He helped us feel at ease – making us laugh and our participation appreciated. Producer Jeni Miller is a brilliant ray of sunshine. Her utter joy and excitement was infectious during the shoot. She took the time to mingle with the roughly fifteen background actors, her enthusiasm and love of the medium evident.
Nick, Jeni, and the crew made the set experience a delightful one which allowed me to relax and be present in the moment. New friendships were formed among the background talent as we talked about our day jobs, our acting experience, and about cooking without a microwave. I felt at peace while my artistic spirit thrived. I sat in awe, intrigued by the filming process – shot by shot, camera angle by camera angle, take by take. The time, dedication, and love of craft that goes into creating one scene relit the spark of belief that immersed in an artistic environment is my home.
After saying my thanks and goodbyes for now, I returned to my car a swell of pride and fierce desire to share my excitement brimming. I’ve been a passionate supporter of the film, TV, and theatre industries since childhood with an understanding and appreciation that artists in front of and behind the camera work hard in ways we don’t always recognize.
When I watch the COFFEE WITH GOD trailer I am not only excited to see this moving work of art, but am honored to have been a part. The message of the film and where I am on my artistic spirit journey blended on that beautiful Saturday afternoon, and I look forward to the net step along my entertainment path.
Motivational Monday Poem: Heart Broken – Spirit Strong
Our spirits remains strong
Though our heart broken
Loss so profound
It swallows us whole
Flooding our view
With pain, grief, and confusion
When tragedy befalls
Senseless and horrific
We call upon our God(s) or elected officials
Praying for answers, demanding change
As the spirits of those lost
Rest in peace
Ours will not
Speaking up and out
With in love in our hearts
And determination of spirit
Jen and Lena: How Kathleen McGowan’s novels changed my life
“I have loved you before I love you today and I will love you again. The time returns.” – Kathleen McGowan The Expected One
It’s been nearly a year and a half since my older sister passed, and she’s been on my mind and in my dreams more often than not lately. Jen was a vocal champion of women’s issues, a passion that began at the age of five when she discovered that women couldn’t be priests in the Catholic Church. Her spiritual journey moved on quickly from Christianity while mine flourished. We were opposites in many ways yet we maintained a strong bond for most of our life together. She was my smart, beautiful, vocal sister and I adored her.
Four years age difference separated us yet we were oddly close despite our wide gap in personality, spirituality, and life perspective. She relished confrontation and speaking up and out when she perceived the world moved backwards in women’s rights issues. I, on the other hand, withdrew from confrontation and felt uncomfortable discussing politics or religion.
Jen’s love of history and strong “sixth” sense led her to read fiction that featured women in history who were frequently persecuted for daring to act or speak in a way that the male-centered power structure felt threatened by. So it’s no surprise that she stumbled upon Kathleen McGowan’s novel The Expected One – a story which depicted Mary Magdalene in a way that differed greatly from Catholicism’s teachings. She passed the novel on to me, certain that I’d enjoy it as much as she had. She was right, and I don’t think I ever told her how that gift changed the course of my life for the better.
In The Expected One and the books that followed, I finally discovered spirituality as I always believed it was intended to be. For most of my life I felt guided by my spirit, more so than my physical body. I couldn’t always express this sense that there was more to this life than our daily routines and tasks, more than money, power, and politics. That sense of something more is likely why Catholicism became my home from a very young age. I connected very strongly to its mystical foundation – magic, miracles, angels, saints and hope. It’s central figure that of a deity who inspired kindness, unconditional love, compassion, and empathy. I felt more connected to Mother Mary than the men – likely because of her depiction as a kind, nurturing woman who endured unspeakable pain. And yet she moved forward, with a heart that though broken remained full of love.
And yet, as I looked deeper into my religion from an adult’s third eye, I saw holes in the dogma’s aura – gaps in the rules, “laws”, and real world beliefs that varied significantly from what I believed Jesus was really trying to teach us. Catholicism no longer housed my spiritual needs though I carried with me the mystical elements that spoke to me so.
When I read all three of the novels in Kathleen’s “Magdalene” series I finally felt a spiritual home – understood and empowered. While reading each novel there were so many times my eyes welled with tears of fulfillment as I thought, “This…this is what I’ve always believed. This expresses spirituality in the way that connects with my soul.” I recall the distinct moment when Kathleen described “infusion” in The Poet Prince. Finally, someone linked art and spirituality as two parts of a whole; one essential to the other.
The arts saved my life on many occasions, providing comfort, clarity, and healing. Whether it’s the energy that fills me when I sing, the excitement as my pen dances across the page, or the sense of home as an overture plays in a Broadway house I am an artist guided by a strong spiritual connection; I am an Artistic Spirit.
I am forever grateful to Kathleen McGowan for her writings and to my sister for passing them on to me. The ideals and perspectives she describes in her novels continue to inspire and motivate me to live my life in a more complete Way.
I have no doubt that I will see my sister again one day, but until then I will keep writing, asking spiritual questions, and championing those like Kathleen whose work lifts us up instead of knocking us down.
*Learn more about Kathleen McGowan’s fiction, and non-fiction, by visiting her website.*
Kelly Deeny 