Tag Archives: life

The Little Prince

Posted on by
15

A classic children’s book full of ageless wisdom.

The Little PrinceYesterday, I read The Little Prince a novella by Antoine de Saint-Exupéry. According to Wikipedia,

The novella is both the most-read and most-translated book in the French language, and was voted the best book of the 20th century in France. Translated into more than 250 languages and dialects (as well as braille), selling nearly two million copies annually with sales totaling over 140 million copies worldwide, it has become one of the best-selling books ever published.

Odd that I should live 53 years before managing to squeeze such a famous 98-page read into my busy schedule.

On the surface, this children’s book, which includes simple watercolor illustrations by the author, tells the story of an aviator who has crash-landed in the Sahara Desert. He’s working hard to repair his plane when he meets a small prince who has travelled to earth (and a few other places) from a tiny asteroid. What follows are stories from the little prince’s travels, each of which has an important message that isn’t just for children.

The Fox

Chapter XXI made the biggest impact on me. In that Chapter, the little prince meets a fox who explains to him, in the course of their conversation, the meaning of the word tame:

“It is an act too often neglected,” said the fox. “It means to establish ties.”

“‘To establish ties’?”

“Just that,” said the fox. “To me, you are still nothing more than a little boy who is just like a hundred thousand other little boys. And I have no need of you. And you, on your part, have no need of me. To you, I am nothing more than a fox like a hundred thousand other foxes. But if you tame me, then we shall need each other. To me, you will be unique in all the world. To you, I shall be unique in all the world…”

Later, the fox adds:

“My life is very monotonous,” the fox said. “I hunt chickens; men hunt me. All the chickens are just alike, and all the men are just alike. And, in consequence, I am a little bored. But if you tame me, it will be as if the sun came to shine on my life. I shall know the sound of a step that will be different from all the others. Other steps send me hurrying back underneath the ground. Yours will call me, like music, out of my burrow. And then look: you see the grain-fields down yonder? I do not eat bread. Wheat is of no use to me. The wheat fields have nothing to say to me. And that is sad. But you have hair that is the color of gold. Think how wonderful that will be when you have tamed me! The grain, which is also golden, will bring me back the thought of you. And I shall love to listen to the wind in the wheat…”

Can you think of a more beautiful way to describe the bond between two people who have come to love and depend upon each other?

There’s more to the story than that, but I’ll let you discover it on your own. I’ll just say this: the end of the story of the fox made me cry when I read it yesterday and it made me cry again today. There’s so much truth in the words. I’m filled with sadness at the knowledge that so few people understand this simple wisdom and how it applies in their lives.

You become responsible, forever, for what you have tamed.

Matters of Consequence

Underlying most of the book is the idea of what’s really important in life. Saint-Exupéry refers to this as “matters of consequence.”

In the little prince’s travels, he meets a businessman who is busy counting and doing sums. He’s too busy to relight his cigarette and almost too busy to answer the prince’s questions between counting and adding. He tells the prince that he can’t stop, that he has so much to do, that he is concerned with matters of consequence. Those matters turn out to be counting the stars, which he has claimed ownership of, despite the fact that he’s not even sure, at first, what they’re called. The prince has questions about this:

“And what good does it do you to own the stars?”

“It does me the good of making me rich.”

“And what good does it do you to be rich?”

“It makes it possible for me to buy more stars, if any are discovered.”

Later, the prince asks the man what he does with the stars.

“I administer them,” replied the businessman. “I count them and recount them. It is difficult. But I am a man who is naturally interested in matters of consequence.”

The little prince was still not satisfied.

“If I owned a silk scarf,” he said, “I could put it around my neck and take it away with me. If I owned a flower, I could pluck that flower and take it away with me. But you cannot pluck the stars from heaven…”

“No. But I can put them in the bank.”

It’s that what it’s all about for too many people? Slaving their life away in pursuit of the almighty dollar, neglecting what’s really important in life? All so they can accumulate what they believe is wealth and keep it safe from others?

Later, the little prince is angry with the pilot because the pilot has failed to answer a question the prince thinks is important. He sums up his meeting with the businessman and what it means to him:

“I know a planet where there is a certain red-faced gentleman. He has never smelled a flower. He has never looked at a star. He has never loved any one. He has never done anything in his life but add up figures. And all day he says over and over, just like you: ‘I am busy with matters of consequence!’ And that makes him swell up with pride. But he is not a man — he is a mushroom!”

In my life, I’ve spent far too much time with mushrooms. Indeed, I think I was a mushroom for a time myself.

Read the Book

If you’re more interested in morals and philosophy than what’s on reality TV, celebrity gossip shows, or the business press, do yourself a favor and read the book.

Read it slowly and savor the lessons revealed in the little prince’s travels. I’m sure you’ll take away a lot more than what I’ve shared here — I know I did.

Ladies! Don’t Be Afraid!

Posted on by
4

There’s no reason you shouldn’t do what you want to do.

The tweet that prompted this post.

Yesterday, one of my Twitter friends shared a tweet that contained a list of the “Top 10 things British women would love to do but are too scared.” The heading at the top of the list asked if readers had done any of them.

I looked at the list and realized I’d done seven of them.

Which ones? Let’s go down the list:

  • Ask for a pay raise. Although I haven’t had an “employer” for more than 20 years, I have asked clients for increases in the rates they pay me — most recently just last week. I honestly can’t remember if I asked my last employers for a raise; in most cases the raises and promotions came automatically and I didn’t need to ask.
  • Travel or holiday alone. I do this all the time — and have been doing it since I began driving in the late 1970s. Hell, I remember taking a train to Canada by myself with just $20 in my pocket when I was 20. One of my Top 10 vacations, in fact, was the “midlife crisis road trip” I took in 2005. I spent 19 days cruising around Arizona, California, Nevada, Utah, Oregon, Washington, Montana, and Idaho in my little convertible with no destination or reservations. I had a blast!
  • Get a tattoo. I have two of them on my right ankle. I got them in the 1990s, before everyone and their kid was getting them.
  • Have a bikini wax. Check. ‘Nuff said.

  • Short Hair
    My hair was actually growing out in this photo from 2012.

    Get your hair cut very short. The first time was in the early 1980s when I got a perm cut out down in Greenwich Village in New York City. That was quite a shock to most folks. After that, I wore my hair short much of the time, getting a few super short haircuts in summer months. My hair is shoulder length now for the first time in more than 30 years. I still haven’t decided if I like it this way.

  • Ask someone out on a date. Still doing that once in a while. Sometimes I’m disappointed, sometimes I’m not.
  • Quit your job. Not only did I quit my job way back in 1990, but I quit it to start a freelance career. That takes courage. But sometimes you need to cut ties to move forward — a tip for any kind of relationship, including employment.

What about the other three? Let’s take a look:

  • Sing in public/karaoke. I’ve never actually seen live karaoke and haven’t had the opportunity to do it. Not sure if I would, though. Is it cowardice? Probably some version of it. No one likes to look like a fool in public.
  • Do a naked photo shoot. It isn’t fear that stops me from doing this. It’s common sense. Women who have naked photos of themselves — or near-naked photos of themselves — out there are just asking for trouble. Do you really want photos of you like that circulating around? My advice, ladies, is to keep your clothes on when a camera is present. Those pictures can and will come back to haunt you. (Ask my wasband’s girlfriend about the ones she sent him that I got my hands on. I’m still wondering whether the playing cards were a hit with his poker friends. My friends sure got a kick out of them.)
  • Have cosmetic surgery. Again, it isn’t fear that holds me back from this one. For years it was the simple fact that I didn’t think I needed any. But as I age and gravity begins to take hold, I’m reconsidering it. It’s on my list but at a low priority. Need to get settled into my home first.

Now I’m not sure if British women — the group supposedly polled for the list — are more cowardly (for lack of a better term) than American women. I suspect they might be. I’m also not sure about the age of the women polled and would have to think that very old and very young women would be more cowardly than those of young enough to be “modern” and old enough to have conquered most of our fears.

But now it’s your turn. How many of these things have you done? What’s memorable about any of them?

And if you haven’t done something you really want to do, why not? Tell us what it is so we can talk you into it. Never let your gender hold you back!

Sunrise from Lookout Point

Posted on by
8

When was the last time you sat quietly to watch a day being born?

If you’ve been following this blog, you know that about a year ago, I bought 10 acres of view property sitting on a shelf at the base of some basalt cliffs in Malaga, WA. I’m a view person and its the view that sold me on the land. From the spot where I had my building constructed this summer, I can see all of Malaga and most of East Wenatchee and Wenatchee, including the Columbia River which runs between them. There are grassy, sage-studded hills, small lakes, orchards, snow-covered peaks, and dramatic cliff faces, with a scattering of homes nearby and the more populated Wenatchee area in the distance.

My Bench at Lookout Point
Looking back at my future home from the bench at Lookout Point. See the tiny dog curled up on the right seat?

But a short walk a bit farther to the north, to the point just before my land drops down off a steep hill, takes me to what I’ve begun calling “Lookout Point.” It has a 270° (at least) view that also takes in Mission Ridge and the mouth of Lower Moses Coulee. When I bought a used shed last autumn and found a crude bench in it, the obvious place to put it was at Lookout Point. I fixed it up with a coat of paint and bought new cushions for it. I often sit out there in the evening with a glass of wine to watch the sun set.

The View from Lookout Point
There’s nothing special about the bench; it’s what’s in front of the bench that’s amazing.

I woke up this morning shortly before 5 AM. It was already light out — it gets light very early here in the summer — and rather than turn on the radio and have my coffee at my desk while listening to the news on NPR — as I too often do — I decided to have my coffee out at Lookout Point.

I think it was the sight of the pickers driving into the cherry orchard below me that triggered the idea. Two or three summers ago, when I lived at a friend’s building site in Wenatchee Heights, I used to sit out on his unfinished deck at dawn, watching the pickers getting to work in the orchard across the road. The deck was close enough to the orchard that I could hear the dull clunk of cherries hitting the bottom of the picking buckets as pickers started work.

Anyway, I took my coffee and headed out, leaving the door to my RV open behind me. Penny the Tiny Dog was still asleep on my bed, but I suspected that she’d follow me out if she sensed I was leaving. Sure enough, I was halfway down to the bench when I saw her following on the path behind me. When I sat down, she jumped up onto the seat beside mine, curled up, and went back to sleep.

The sky on the horizon to the northwest was pink; the sun was just touching the tops of distant snow-covered peaks. The valley was still in the shadows.

I sat quietly and listened. I could hear the whine of a sprayer in a nearby orchard. It was a sound you learn to live with here — during the growing season, they start as early as 4 AM and, depending on what they’re spraying and what the weather is like, they could continue all day long. Fortunately, none of the orchards are close enough that the sound becomes a nuisance.

Predawn from Lookout Point
The sun was just kissing the snow-covered peaks when I sat down at the bench.

Golden Basalt
I love the way first light and last light makes the cliffs behind my home glow with a golden light.

Sprayer in Orchard
You can easily see a sprayer from above — the cloud of chemicals is hard to miss. Sometimes, when I’m flying, I’ll see dozens of them at work in orchards all around me.

Sunrise
The sun broke over the horizon at exactly 5:30 AM.

Morning Light
I watched the golden morning light creep down the landscape. Can you see my shadow on the left?

Wenatchee Valley in Shadows
But while I was in full sun, the Wenatchee Valley was still in shadows. The sun wouldn’t hit them for another 30 minutes or so.

Off in the distance, I heard another familiar sound: a spray helicopter. I didn’t see it, but I suspect it was working out to the west, either on Stemilt Hill or Wenatchee Heights. I wondered what the people living in that area thought about helicopters doing extended spray operations near their homes at 5 AM.

Closer, I heard tools clanking where the pickers had gone. Maybe ladders being repositioned? Or bin trailers being hooked up to tractors?

Occasionally, a bird cannon fired. These propane-powered devices emit a sound a bit like a shotgun every few minutes to scare birds off the ripening cherries. Like the sprayers, bird cannons are a seasonal sound that lasts only as long as red cherries are on the trees. By July month-end, the orchards in my area will have been all picked and the bird cannons will be put away until next year.

Across the river, the sound of a motorcycle on route 28 drifted up on a breeze. And then a truck. I can sometimes hear trains on my side of the river, but none seemed to go by.

Birds — I heard them, too. Song birds greeting the day. Robins, magpies, quail.

One of my bees flew over to the bench and poked around. Maybe she thought my purple tank top was some sort of enormous flower that had blossomed overnight. Penny, bothered by the close buzzing, sat up. It wasn’t until she lunged at the bee that it flew away.

Meanwhile, the earth rotated toward the east and the sky got brighter and brighter. A golden light reached out and touched the basalt cliffs behind me. Then it began creeping down from the mountains and cliffs and hillsides, bathing everything it touched with a golden light.

The new day was born.

Bunch Grass in First Light
Bunch grass in first light.

It’s funny, but when some people watch a sunrise or sunset, they look at the sun. But that’s not where the show is. The show is in the opposite direction, where the changing light makes deep shadows and glowing highlights on the things we see every day.

I watched the light shine on everything around me. I especially liked the way it touched the tips of the bunch grass I’d left long around Lookout Point.

The light spread like a carpet over the earth. Shadows filled in with light. The magic of first light faded quickly at Lookout Point. Too quickly. I wished it could last all day.

Dawn in Malaga
A new day is born.

As I sat there with Penny, savoring the last few minutes of the sunrise, I thought back to sunrises I’d experienced years ago. Back when I was in my early 20s, I’d dated a man who liked sunrises as much as I do. I distinctly remember waking up very early one morning and driving through the darkness to Montauk Point out on Long Island in New York. We found a rock to sit on and sat close together, looking out toward the brightness of the eastern horizon while waves crashed gently on the shore. If I think hard enough, I can remember — or at least imagine — the way the sun’s first light felt warm on my skin and the way his body felt comfortably close to mine. Afterward, we lay back on that big, flat rock and I fell asleep in his arms.

I miss moments like that, long gone and likely forgotten by the man I shared them with. Over the years, he grew and changed. Like so many of us, he forgot about the simple beauty of a sunrise and the wonder of a day being born, caught up instead with chasing the almighty dollar and keeping up appearances for people who really don’t matter. His loss — but he probably doesn’t even realize it.

Are you guilty of that, too? Be honest with yourself. I think I was, at least for a while.

I think that moving here has helped me reconnect with the simple things in life — getting back in tune with nature, stopping to look and listen and experience my surroundings. Gone are the days when I spent too much time commuting between two homes and dealing with the noise and crowds of a city I never really wanted to live in. Last night, I enjoyed squash from my garden; this morning, I ate cherries I picked yesterday with yogurt I made the day before. My chickens will soon be laying eggs; I can’t wait to make my special pound cake with those rich fresh eggs and butter. I’ll fill the hummingbird feeder in a while and check my bee hives for capped honey frames. Maybe I’ll head down into town for lunch with some friends.

Life is what you make it and my life is good.

A New Year, A New Book

Posted on by
4

A new project to get my year off to a good start.

2013 was the first year since 1991 that I did not publish a new book.

There are several of reasons for this, none of which I want to get into here. That would make interesting fodder for a future blog post. Don’t worry; I won’t leave you hanging for long.

But it isn’t as if I haven’t been writing — I have been. In addition to this blog, which I’ve tended to quite faithfully since I started it in October 2003, I’ve been working on another book project since late 2012, when I found myself with an outrageous personal story to tell. Unfortunately, I’ve had to put that project aside; I hope to finish it when I know the ending.

Papillon HelicopterToday, however, I started work on the book I’ve been thinking about for the past month or so. Tentatively titled Flying the Canyon: My Season as a Grand Canyon Helicopter Tour Pilot, this book will share my experiences from one of the most interesting summers of my life.

Here, I’ll let the book’s draft introduction tell you more:

In the summer of 2004, I realized one of my dreams: I became a helicopter tour pilot at the Grand Canyon.

I was 42 when I got the job and I worked with a bunch of young people — mostly men — some of whom were young enough to be my kids. I met the challenges of working in a sometimes difficult but usually breathtakingly beautiful flying environment, dealing with the personalities of co-workers and management, and trying to please passengers from all over the world. The work was rewarding, frustrating, and enlightening. The flying experience was something I think every helicopter pilot should have.

I also had a very odd experience on one of my flights — an experience that would leave the lingering scar of PTSD on me for many years to come.

I thoroughly enjoyed the work, but by the end of the summer, the novelty had worn off. Friction inside the company made the job less pleasant than it had been. I realized that I was a square peg in a round hole. My real work as a freelance writer was being neglected and my editors were beginning to lose their patience. I was sad to leave, but it was time.

This book is the story of my season at the Grand Canyon. It begins before the beginning by sharing the stories of when I decided I wanted to learn how to fly and the things that I did to gain the skills I’d need to be a tour pilot. It then goes on to tell about my experiences as a pilot at the Canyon — including the unusual occurrence on June 10, 2004 — and my direct interactions with fellow pilots, management, and passengers. Finally, it shares how my feelings about being a Canyon tour pilot changed as the summer came to a close and the events that affected my decision to leave.

Because I’d blogged many of my experiences soon after they happened, much of what I share in these pages is rich with details. But rather than just restate my blog posts, I’ve filled in the gaps between them with the behind-the-scenes stories that I couldn’t make public at the time.

Ever wonder what it’s like to be a helicopter tour pilot at the Grand Canyon? Here’s what it was like for me.

As I write, I’ll be pulling a lot of my blog posts about those days offline, probably for good. In a way, my blog has acted as a temporary archive for these stories. Once the book is complete and published, the book will be the permanent archive. I hope to do this with much of the contents of my blog.

Captain MariaToday, I churned out over 4,000 words, completing the introduction (which I just shared here), a Prologue, and Chapter 1, which briefly covers my experiences learning to fly and getting my commercial pilot rating. My goal is to have the entire book finished by month-end — a goal I know I can reach if I can stay focused on my work. (With little else do do this winter, it shouldn’t be much of a problem to find time!)

I’ve toyed with the idea of shopping it around to a mainstream publishing house but will likely self-publish under the Flying M Productions “Real-Life Flying” imprint. The book will be available in print and as an ebook in Kindle, Nook, and iBooks formats. I had quite a bit of success with one of my three self-publishing projects back in 2012, so I’m pretty confident I’ll meet or beat that success with this book.

Of course, since I need to work on the book each morning, that might cut into my blogging time. So expect to see fewer posts here over the next month or so as I write, edit, lay out, and publish this book. More information on where to buy it will be available before month-end.

Comments? You know where to put them!

On Luck

Posted on by
12

Does it even exist?

“You’re so lucky that you can work at home.”

“You’re so lucky that you can fly for a living.”

“You’re so lucky you can live in such a beautiful place.”

These are things I’ve heard multiple times from people I’ve met in my day-to-day life. They all seem to think that luck plays a major role in my life and lifestyle.

I can’t tell you how much it bothers me when people tell me this. Luck has nothing to do with it.

In my mind, luck is something that comes into play when you win a lottery. That’s pure luck. After all, no skill is required; nothing you can do — other than buy a lottery ticket — can change the odds of winning.

I’ve tried, in the past, to explain this to people without sounding rude. My problem, I guess, is that because I’m a writer I take words very literally. And I really can’t help feeling offended when someone attributes various benefits of my hard work to “luck.”

This past summer, my good friend Cheryl shared something her father used to say:

There’s no such thing as magical “luck.” It’s when preparation meets opportunity.

I’ll take that a step farther. The benefits often attributed to luck happen when opportunity is recognized and acted upon.

So preparation leads to opportunity which leads to benefits.

An Example: My Writing Career

Let’s look at my “luck” in becoming a freelance writer.

Dreams don’t work unless you do.

I prepared by learning to write, which I did by being an avid reader and practicing writing for many years. I saw opportunities: the first being to write an article for a professional organization. Despite the lack of monetary compensation, I took advantage of the opportunity and got my first published clip. That, in turn, was part of my preparation to move forward as a writer.

As opportunities presented themselves, I seized them, kind of like a relay racer seizes the baton and runs with it to hand it off to the next person in the race — or take it over the finish line. Step-by-step, opportunity-by-opportunity, I climbed the ladder of success in a writing career. The benefits — advances, royalties, a smattering of fame, and the flexible lifestyle I’ve enjoyed for the past 23 years — were the rewards of this preparation-opportunity chain.

The preparation was my effort to move forward. Preparing book proposals, contacting editors and publishers, learning new software, spending money on computers and other equipment I needed to get the job done. Seizing the opportunities meant getting the work done as needed by the people who hired me within the time limits they specified.

I don’t see much “luck” here, do you?

Another Example: My Flying Career

Although I never intended to fly for a living, I did prepare for such a career by simply learning to fly. It was a lot of work and even more expense. There’s no luck involved in becoming a pilot.

When I realized that I liked to fly and needed to do it for money to keep doing it at all, I began preparing for a career as a pilot. More training, another certificate, more expense. Practice, practice, practice. Time-building. Applying for a job to get more varied experience. Working that job to meet my employer’s needs.

Buying a larger helicopter. Working with the FAA to get Part 135 certification. Advertising, marketing. Answering the phone and learning which jobs would move me forward. Being open to weird suggestions — like spending the summer in Washington state to hover over cherry trees after it rains. Expanding on that seized opportunity to grow my client base.

Do you see any “luck” here?

You Make Your Own Luck

Your life is a result of the choices you make.
If you don’t like your life, it’s time to start making better choices.

I’ve often heard wise people say, “You make your own luck.” This is what these people are talking about: preparation and seizing the resulting opportunities.

There’s no reward without risk. That’s something I’ve learned.

My writing career never would have gotten off the ground if I didn’t take the risk of leaving my full-time job in corporate America to write a 4-1/2 day course about using computers for auditing. And I never would have gone beyond that first big project if I hadn’t worked hard to prepare for other opportunities.

My flying career never would have taken off (pun intended) if I didn’t take the risk of spending all that money on flight training or spending even more money on a helicopter that would help me prepare for opportunities. Or take the risk of leaving my home for a few months each summer to seize an opportunity that made my business thrive.

The only thing standing between you and your goal is the bullshit story you keep telling yourself as to why you can’t achieve it.

Too many people don’t understand this. Too many people seem to think that they can achieve success through luck or wishful thinking. It doesn’t happen. And then, when they don’t move forward in the direction they want to go, they make excuses for why they don’t. Bad luck.

Bullshit.

You are in charge of your destiny.

A smart man once told me that if you want something in life you need to make it happen. That man’s gone now, dead and buried. But even today, his words are the ones that drive me to move forward in my life.

What’s driving you?