I’ve achieved a few things in my day – things that I worked long and hard to accomplish – but none have given me the same level of gratification as seeing my book on sale and reading my first review on Amazon.com.

http://www.amazon.com/Control-Switch-Leana-Delle/dp/1475974507/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1362368621&sr=8-1&keywords=Leana+Delle

I’ve been waiting for the book to be posted on major websites for a while now, so when I walked into Chapters the other day, I checked their kiosk just in case. Up popped CONTROL SWITCH, and I let out an audible gasp that spurred one of their employees to ask if everything was okay.

“More than okay. That’s my book!” I replied, tapping on the screen.

My book. Wow. And for those of you who don’t know the story, I was gifted the path of writing by my dear friend, Jenesse Aurandt, before she lost her battle with breast cancer. I promised her I’d write a book one day, and that one promise has taught me more about discipline, passion, and purpose than any other life lesson to date.

And my gratitude goes out to all who have supported my journey and shared in this accomplishment, including my dear friend, Sophie Terrasse, who met me at Chapters to share in the excitement.

Know that pursuing your passion is always the right decision. Know that the frustrations and challenges you’ll face will only add to your ultimate fulfillment. Know that you are not meant to live a passionless life. None of us are – not ever.

For more on my promise to Jenesse, visit my website at www.Leanadelle.com

And check out Sophie’s inspiring mission at www.laughtercapital.com

I may have had an AHA moment this morning. They don’t happen often enough for my liking, and certainly not in the morning, but there it was nonetheless. I got up early (again, not something that happens often) to get ready for a trip. The night before I’d picked out an egg shell colored top to wear for the journey, and after donning it this morning and sitting down to put on my make-up, I thought, ‘I must be careful not to get anything on this.’ Five minutes later I was cussing with my Tide pen in hand trying to rid the thing of a big blotch of foundation.

Now, I’ve been putting make-up on every day for more years than I truly care to mention, and I rarely get any of it on my clothes, so this occurrence left me pondering the fact that we could be setting ourselves up for failure simply by acknowledging the possibility of it happening. Hmm. This then sent me down a reminiscent trail of personal disasters looking for trends. Yep, a few emerged for sure.

‘I must be careful not to spend too much,’ has led to an empty bank account. ‘I must be careful not to leave myself vulnerable,’ has led to failed relationships. ‘I must be careful not to sound like an idiot,’ has left me feeling sorrowful for not fully expressing myself while there was still time.

Maybe the key is to live with the full expectation that you’re going to end up splattered in foundation (figuratively speaking of course). Maybe reckless abandon is the only way to really succeed. Maybe – just maybe – caution is a complete waste of time.

I’ll no doubt continue to ponder this at 34,000 feet, but if it’s true then the reverse must be also. Maybe we set ourselves up for success with that glimmer of possibility as well? Either way, I’ve decided to experiment a bit and will keep you posted. I’ve left the Tide pen at home.

Final edits are complete and the manuscript for “Control Switch” is going through its last proofread before submission. I’m feeling relieved, relaxed, and ultimately satisfied. I like what I’ve written; I’m happy with it. But I’m also feeling somewhat melancholy. I began writing because of a promise – a promise to a friend dying of cancer. “You’re a writer,” she said, before making me swear to author a book one day. I miss her more than usual this weekend, and I pray that she knows how grateful I am.

I’m also feeling a bit sad, because I won’t be spending time with my characters any longer. Candace, Fiona, and Josie have been part of my everyday life for a little over two years now, and it’s time to give them wings. I’ll miss them (and their misadventures) very much.

 

Time is a funny thing. If someone had told me in advance how many hours I’d be spending on this project, I’d never have believed them. I would, however, have continued writing regardless. That’s the true sign of a passionate path in my opinion. It doesn’t matter how much time it takes, or even if it’s lucrative. You just simply have to do it. End of (dare I say it) story.

So, I woke up this morning with my book on my mind. Not the one I just finished, but the second one that has been plotting its way through my brain for over a year now. Soon I’ll be spending time with Gaynor and Pepper and a variety of supporting characters who have yet to introduce themselves. I can’t wait, and although I’m pretty convinced that this story won’t take as long to write as the first one did, there’s a chance it might, and I’m okay with that.

Do you have a creative dream that you’d like to see fulfilled? Could it potentially take one, two, maybe three years to complete? Well, ask yourself where you’ll be in that timeframe if you don’t pursue it. Time’s going to pass regardless. Do what leaves you feeling relieved, relaxed, and satisfied in the end. You truly won’t regret the hours it took – not one bit.

Although I can’t give an exact date when “Control Switch” will be available, I can guarantee it’s on its way. Feel free to follow me on Facebook for updates, and I’ll keep you posted in future blogs.

Thanks for all of your support and patience, y’all. Onward and upward.

Facebook author page:

https://www.facebook.com/pages/Leana-Delle/200159000072062?ref=hl#

That pretty much sums up 2012. Just . . . wow. The best year I think I’ve ever had. Well, so far anyway, but be sure that I’ll try and top it this year and every year after that. In fact, my goal is to look back on the whole journey with the same smile I’m sporting tonight. And why the gleeful grin? Because I’m grateful. Grateful for the generosity of friends and for so many great life lessons, including:

– True friendship spans oceans. Thanks John G.

– Adventures never have to end. Thanks Shirley M.

– Family is forever family. Thanks Sharon F-M.

– You can dream big and inspire multitudes. Thanks Regan G.

– You can live in the moment and wallow in love. Bless you little Toby.

– You can have absolutely nothing and still exude joy. Thank-you people of Haiti!

SO blessed to have had this past year, and now “onward and upward” as my dear friend, Jenesse, used to say. This year I’ll hold my first novel in my hands (thank-you for your patience) and start my second. I’ll visit favorite cities and explore new ones. I’ll reconnect with special friends and make new ones out of strangers. I also plan to learn everything I can about love and marketing, so feel free to share your wisdom on either.

Most importantly, this year I plan to express my gratitude for the generosity of friends by paying it forward. Giving creates possibility. Possibility creates hope.

CHEERS to a great new year, everyone!

And I can’t believe I’ve been blogging for an entire year. Who knew I had so much to say? (Oh, you know you want to leave a reply now)

🙂

A friend of mine gave me a book this week. “The Untethered Soul” by Michael A. Singer. I’m only a few chapters in, but it already resonates with me. In it he talks about our inner voice. You know, the one that never shuts up? The narrator of everything we’re looking at, feeling, and trying to make sense of? Everyone’s got one that seems to continually judge and criticize ourselves and others.

“How would you feel if someone outside really started talking to you the way your inner voice does?” the author asks. “How would you relate to a person who opened their mouth to say everything your mental voice says?”

Hmm. Interesting question. I knew right away that such a person would be intolerable, which led to an experiment. Today, while driving around doing errands, I decided to audibly speak what my inner voice was saying. My God, there wasn’t a moment’s rest! I mean, not one second went by when the car wasn’t filled with chatter. I literally wanted to slap myself. Just imagine that scene.

It may seem silly, but I’m glad I did it. I mean, I wouldn’t spend ten minutes with someone who never shut up and threw negative what ifs at me with every new idea or concept that crossed my mind. Why in hell do we allow ourselves to spend a lifetime putting up with that crap?

I also had a big AHA moment today related to this. I realized that when I’m writing the inner voice shuts up. Amazing, don’t you think? Is that the true definition of passion then? Is that what signifies a life purpose? The thing that stops the incessant narrator? I’m beginning to believe it is. This would also explain why – as a society – we do everything in our power to distract ourselves; often in extremely unhealthy ways.

Start paying attention to the messages your inner voice is sending and, more specifically, if there are any activities that make it disappear. You’re not that voice. You’re everything good that’s beyond it.

 

Photo credit: Roma Assaff

Well, I did it. Eighteen years without a dog, and this weekend I brought one home. Toby is a Lhasa Apso/Pomeranian mix, and he’s three years old.

 

What possessed me to make such a huge decision all of a sudden? Well, I’d been missing my ex’s Lhasa something awful, and every place I looked there seemed to be signs – like the flyer in my apartment building lobby offering walking/babysitting services in-house. Not to mention the continuous nagging from my friend Jason to bite the bullet and bring home the love (this is ultimately his fault). But, he was right.

Remember the trip to Haiti? The one that I went on to kickstart my compassion? It worked, and my heart’s been opening up in weird and wonderful ways since. This is just part of that journey. Admittedly, the reason I’ve not gotten a dog before this is because I feared the eventual loss. Is that any way to live? For a risk taker, no less? No, it most certainly is not.

So, here I sit on the sofa writing alongside my new partner. We’re both adjusting. He’s feeling blue, because he misses his previous home. I’m feeling melancholy, because he reminds me of my ex’s dog. In the midst of our personal angsts, we’re ironing out the details of our new committed relationship and becoming increasingly more attached. Soon he’ll figure out that I’m never going anywhere, and soon we’ll be inseparable.

A new chapter (writers love new chapters), and he’ll get to hear a lot of those while I read out loud to him during edits. Now if you’ll excuse us, it’s time for our W-A-L-K.

Is it really the end of October? Seriously? Yike!

Okay, so I’m not a huge fan of Halloween. It all feels like a consumer based marketing scheme to me, and it’s just plain unhealthy. Loved it as a kid; why wouldn’t I? Candy? Costumes? Pumpkins? It rocked, and I still have fond memories of knocking on doors while my dad kept a protective eye from the sidewalk. Still, I don’t look forward to the 31st of October. Not in the least.

Yesterday I found out that we had to dress up for work today. Just imagine my excitement. I tried prepping last night, but my heart wasn’t in it, so I scrambled this morning to pull together a costume. Odd how so much of my wardrobe resembles a gypsy, or maybe not so much. Regardless, that’s what I ended up as.

It struck me when I got home tonight how we don costumes every day. I’m forever going through my closet to express my feelings du jour, or to find the appropriate ensemble to satisfy social expectations. It’s all costume. It’s all Halloween. It’s all about being the thing that gets you candy.

What if there wasn’t any candy to be had? What if we just walked out the door in the morning with no paycheck to bring home, no doors to knock on, no him or her to impress, no acceptance to garner? What if we just showed up as us?

Today, while I was dressed up as someone else at work, I thought a lot about authenticity. Tonight, while I was working at my keyboard and feeling authentic, I thought a lot about costumes. I live for those moments now when I’m completely unaware of what I’m projecting. When I’m in the writing zone, time is non-existent, and I’m completely unaware of my physical self. This is why writers write, painters paint, singers sing, and golfers golf. It’s why we pursue the thing that haunts us. If you haven’t had this experience for yourself, I strongly suggest that you knock on a few doors until you find it. The treats can be obtained with tricks – trust me on this.

 

Goodness – this one took forever to write. I’m sure that my experiences in Haiti will be popping up in future blogs, but right now I feel the need for an extended absorption phase. I need to keep my memories close and protected; cradle them in a sense, like I wanted to do with each child I saw there.

What I would like to share is how it feels to leave Haiti. Not that you ever really leave Haiti – God knows it never leaves you. And, I will be going back there at some point; there’s no question in my mind. Before our flight took off a few days ago, however, I wasn’t the least bit ready to board. Ironically, somewhere around the third day, I couldn’t imagine lasting the remainder of the week in that place. But by the end of it all, packing to head home pained me.

If you’ve read my last few posts, you’ll know that one of my many reasons for going was to give myself a much needed boost in compassion. I wanted to feel the reality of the suffering there. I wanted to be open to it instead of keeping people at arms length. Well, I got that boost – and then some. When the tears threatened, I gave them full license to fall, and I asked for hugs instead of hoping someone might notice my need for one.

At the end of it all, I slid into my window seat on our scheduled flight and watched as the coastline faded out of view. Eventually all I could see were clouds that looked just like the ones floating above North American privilege.

I thought about the soulful eyes that had searched deep into mine throughout the week; eyes that had seen too much and expected so little.

I yearned for a hot shower and a familiar bed and felt guilty knowing I’d soon have both. And I prayed for the girl who has panic attacks each night since the earthquake, and the woman whose breasts ache under the pressure of tumors that are too far advanced for treatment. So many stories, so much suffering, and yet – so much love.

Without celebration or fanfare, a graduation took place on that flight home. Graduation from an accelerated personal growth program. My classmates were made up of a phenomenal team of professionals who were all there for a common good. Also mentioned in previous posts is the fact that I’ve never had a real passion for nursing. This past week, however, was the proudest I’ve ever been to wear a stethoscope around my neck. Ironically, I experienced this pride without anyone paying me for my time. I, in fact, paid out of pocket to participate. How’s that for a life lesson?

We’re now wrapping up our travels on the outer banks of NC, and will be hitting the road back to Canada this morning. It’s been a phenomenal trip; one that will stay with me always. Now it’s back to creativity with a renewed spirit.

 

 

Getting to Haiti proved to be an effort. While visiting friends in Nashville, I sprained an ankle. Then our initial transfer flight out of Miami got cancelled entirely, which turned into an entire day at the airport, a three hour sleep in a casino, and our second 2:30 a.m. wake-up call in two days, but…

…we did eventually arrive on Friday morning and were whisked off to a scheduled visit at an orphanage. “Whisked” meaning the men were put into the back of a pick-up truck, while the women sat in a caged version of the same. There was a lot of chatter and anticipation on our way there, so I didn’t really absorb much of Port-Au-Prince.

Once on site, the team’s orchestration of setting up unfolded like a page in a pop-up book. In no time at all, we had a fully functioning dental office, doctor’s office, pharmacy, lab, and eye exam station where school rooms and empty corridors had been moments before. Impressive to say the least, and all-in-all we saw 108 children that day, each of whom graced us with the gift of themselves. Despite the atrocious living conditions these kids endure, love and gratitude spilled out of them in the absence of tears.

I suppose I suffered from a bit of shock that first day, because it took a while for it to all sink in. I did what I had to do at the orphanage in an almost euphoric state. The trip had been planned for a long time, and I’d made it here. I was helping. Oh, look at me. It wasn’t until the ride back to the hotel that it really hit.

Poverty has taken on a whole new meaning since my arrival here, and – as a result – so has excess (not that I had much use for it before). The roads are in disrepair and resemble plaque filled arteries awaiting an infarct. Cars, trucks, motorcycles, people, dogs, chickens, goats… and honking. My God, the honking – which seems to be as much about saying “Go ahead,” and “Thank-you,” as it is about annoyance. Then there’s the dust from all of this mayhem. It coats the leaves on the trees as high up as ten or twelve feet, and each Haitian wears it like a second skin.

Tent cities – like the one we visited this morning – seem to appear out of nowhere, and the stench of human waste can be overwhelming in the oppressive heat. These makeshift communities are nestled in amongst graffiti covered buildings. Most of those look like they’re on the verge of collapse. The actual “tents” remind me of all that these people have been through: earthquakes, floods, starvation, disease. The fact that we can globally go about our business of consumerism, while allowing human beings around the world to suffer like this, is what brought me to tears that day. Until you see it for yourself, the magnitude is incomprehensible.

I am forever changed by this experience. Not only by the fact that the lives of these people are so destitute, but because the smiles continue. Amidst the suffering, their graffiti professes God’s love, and their eyes light up in the face of kindness. Dust may cover this nation’s people, but it does not coat their spirit in any way.