Jodi Hills

So this is who I am – a writer that paints, a painter that writes…

Tag Archives: choose


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On her way.

It’s rarely a problem. I walk almost every day without incident. But it is annoying when it happens — when that one big fly decides that this is his path. And for some reason needs to tell you face to face. Flying at full speed toward your nose. Your eyes. Your mouth. Circling your head. Round and round. Poking. Prodding. Relentless. I wave my hands and shake my hair. To no avail. The buzzing rings in my ears and my pace quickens along with my heart. Finally, not being able to take another bzzzzz, I shout to seemingly no one in sight, “Oh for crying out loud!!! You have the whole world!”

As I said, this can be annoying, but what’s really unexceptable is when my own thoughts are the relentless buzz. I’m sure you’ve experienced it, when that thought gets stuck in your head (in your way). And your pesky brain plays it over and over. The tape of this ridiculous thought. Maybe it’s “but he said…” or “she did…” or “they never…” or “what if…”   Bzzzzzzzzzzz!  I’m not proud of it. And most of these glorious days, I can, and do, walk without incident. But the buzz…. Those sneaky thoughts that want to take over my path… So I look around. The sun. The open air. The house. The love within. The paint. The paper. The possibilities. The sugared fruits and comforted beds. The right now. My feet. My heart. The path. The beautiful rocky path… And I have to shout it to myself — “Oh for crying out loud!!!! You have the whole world!”  I do!!!!  

I laugh! And I’m on my way. 

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Hotel breakfast.

I call it hotel breakfast. It can be as easy as putting out the extra homemade jam. Changing the artwork on the counter. But it feels special to me. Like that feeling when you walk from your hotel room down through the lobby, following the scent of coffee, and then seeing the magnificent spread on the table. I suppose maybe it’s all about the luxury of choice. And if I can give that to myself, to us, with just an extra jar of jam, why wouldn’t I do that every day in our own home? Why wouldn’t I give us the chance to feel a little extra special? The chance to begin the day choosing joy. 

I don’t know if my grandma visited many luxury hotels. But somehow she knew. I read in her diary about her first kiss behind the Alexandria Hotel. I assumed at the time it was grandpa, but I can’t be sure. Maybe it was here, too, that she had her first hotel breakfast. I’d like to think so. Something sweet on a white tablecloth. Tasting of choice and possibility. A kind of sweetness that when kissed on lips it stays with you. Lingers in the farm house so quickly filled with children and grandchildren. Lingers and rests in the cupboard to the right of the sink. On the bottom shelf. The variety pack of Kellogg’s Cereal. A variety pack that certainly was too expensive, but something she could not afford to pass up. Something she had to pass on to her grandchildren. Giving them the sweet choice of possibility. Making them feel so special. With each sugary spoonful, created just for them. She did this for us. 

The sun comes up. I have a choice to make. So I put out the extra jam. I begin the day knowing that this day is special. That I am. That we are. What could be sweeter than this!!!!?

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Crossing over.

Crossing over.

I write a lot about being brave. Some people might think, wow, she is never afraid. (insert nervous laugh here). That is hardly the case. There is no bravery without being afraid. And that’s what makes being brave even more miraculous!

In anxious times, it can feel like I’m “on the ledge.” And I often heard, even repeated, oh, I have to talk myself off the ledge. But I realize now that I have to forget about the ledge. If you talk yourself down, the ledge is still there, with no real answers. So what is the answer? I started looking at the different situations not as ledges, but as bridges.

A bridge. Still a bit of the unknown, but a choice.

And it’s all about the choices we make. We can choose to stay or to cross over. We are offered these bridges as gifts. It’s not always easy to dare to cross over, to get through, to get beyond… but it is a choice. So many rivers to cross. And with one step, we choose… we decide to love, to be loved…
we decide that we are actually worthy of the giving and receiving… we choose to live…and we cross over… we cross over to the beauty that lies ahead. What a journey!

Paul Cezanne wrote to his brother about the Pont des Trois Sautets — “There, there is more freshness…” More than a century later, I crossed this bridge to begin my new life in France, my fresh new life. People often ask me, weren’t you afraid to move there? The decision was not a ledge, I say, it was a bridge.