Life Has Loveliness ~ Sara Teasdale

Life has loveliness to sell,
   All beautiful and splendid things,
  Blue waves whitened on a cliff,
   Soaring fire that sways and sings,
  And children’s faces looking up
  Holding wonder like a cup.

  Life has loveliness to sell,
   Music like a curve of gold,
  Scent of pine trees in the rain,
   Eyes that love you, arms that hold,
  And for your spirit’s still delight,
  Holy thoughts that star the night.

  Spend all you have for loveliness,
   Buy it and never count the cost;
  For one white singing hour of peace
   Count many a year of strife well lost,
  And for a breath of ecstasy
  Give all you have been, or could be.

Grieving’s Great Lessons

For the past 30 days, I shared excerpts from Dancing Alone: Learning to Live Again. I wrote during the height of grieving not knowing if I’d ever find a way through. It’s now nearly three years since Babe died. I wish grieving on no one; yet, grieving waits for each of us on our journey. It’s not a pleasant thought. I’m happy I didn’t know what it felt like before it happened. As tough as it is, grieving has been a great teacher. Here are 10 lesson I learned on this journey.

  1. Everyone has scars, don’t compare.
  2. Everyone who grieves, hurts. Don’t judge anyone.
  3. It doesn’t matter if you are Christian, Muslim, Hindu, Jew, Buddhist, Agnostic, Atheist, or other, it hurts like hell. Anyone who grieves deserves compassion.
  4. Unpack all the good memories and be grateful for each one.
  5. Live each day as if it is the only day you have.
  6. Life isn’t fair, don’t worry about it.
  7. Life is a wonderful gift, don’t waste it.
  8. There is no answer to why, so don’t waste time looking for an answer.
  9. Don’t wait to be loved by others, reach out and connect and keep on connecting.
  10. Life wins. Love wins. Never quit. Never give up.

There are many other lessons, but these quickly come to mind. I’m grateful for the time Babe and I had together. I’m grateful for the space in which I find myself. I’m going to keep on living, keep on smiling, and keep on singing. 

Ordering information for the paperback or ebook version of Dancing Alone: Learning to Live Again may be found at

Excerpt From: Dancing Alone: Learning to Live Again by Ray Calabrese. This material is protected by copyright.

Vinnie Wants to Know Who Painted the Painted Desert


“Why, Mom?”


“Because why, Mom?”

“Because I said so.”

“I don’t understand.”

“What don’t you understand?”

“Why I can’t turn my story into Mrs. Navis for my vacation project.”

“Because I don’t want to be embarrassed.”

“You didn’t listen to the story, Mom. It really is good.”

Vinnie’s mom glances at Vinnie’s dad, “You can join in the conversation any time you want to join in.”

“You’re doing just fine, Dear.”

“Mom? Mom? Mom?”

“What, Vincent?”

“You look stressed. I packed Snickers, Twix, Three Musketeers, and six packages of bubblegum. Do you want anything? I think chocolate will make you feel better.”

“Where did you get all that? I didn’t buy it?”

“Remember the night before we left on the trip?”

“What about it, Vincent?”

“Gramma and Grampa came over to say goodbye.”

“I remember.”

“Gramma is the nicest. She gave me a bag of candy. She called it ‘goodies.’ She said to share it with everyone, but not to tell you until we were far away from home. Are we far enough away from to tell you, Mom?”

“It’s your Mom, Dear,” says Vinnie’s dad.

“Don’t go there,” responds Vinnie’s mom.

“Where? There’s the exit for the Painted Desert. Can we go, can we?”

Vinnie’s dad says, “This is our third day on the road. We should have been in Flagstaff yesterday. I was lucky to keep our rooms at the Grand Canyon. We’ll have to pass on the Painted Desert this time.”

“Who painted it, Dad?”

“It was the way it was formed millions of years ago. The desert is composed of stratified layers of easily erodible siltstone, mudstone, and shale,” Vinnie’s dad smiles at Vinnie’s mom expressing his pride how he described the geology of the Painted Desert.

Vinnie’s mom says, “You learn that on Google last night?”

“No, early this morning when I was looking for places to stop for lunch,” says Vinnie’s dad.

“Do they have pizza places at the Grand Canyon, Dad?”

“No, it is a national park. We’ll hike and maybe we’ll see bears or wolves or even mountain lions. We might get to ride a donkey down the canyon trails to the Colorado River.”

“What are we going to eat, Dad? Dexter will starve to death without food. You don’t want Dexter to starve to death, do you, Dad?”

Vinnie’s dad glances over at Vinnie’s mom, “I could use a little help.”

Vinnie’s mom says, “You’re doing just fine, Dear.”

“I didn’t think about food. I thought you were going to think about food,” says Vinnie’s dad.

“I thought I was supposed to think about packing and organizing. I thought you were going to think about the food and lodging,” says Vinnie’s mom.

Vinnie interrupts his parents, “You should have asked Dexter, Dad. Dexter is always thinking about food.”

Vinnie’s mom turns her head toward Vinnie, “I’ll take two candy bars, it doesn’t matter what kind.”

“Can I have one?” asks Vinnie’s dad.

“Too late, Dad. I only have two left and Mom called them. I ate the rest.”


Writer’s Wisdom on Writer’s Block Tip 2 of 6

A blank page is also a door — it contains infinity, like a night sky with a supermoon really close to the Earth, with all the stars and the galaxies, where you can see very, very clearly… You know how that makes your heart beat faster? ~ David Mitchell

The Disappointed ~ Ella Wheeler Wilcox

There are songs enough for the hero

    Who dwells on the heights of fame;

  I sing of the disappointed—

    For those who have missed their aim.

  I sing with a tearful cadence

    For one who stands in the dark,

  And knows that his last, best arrow

    Has bounded back from the mark.

  I sing for the breathless runner,

    The eager, anxious soul,

“Who falls with his strength exhausted.

    Almost in sight of the goal;

  For the hearts that break in silence,

    With a sorrow all unknown,

  For those who need companions,

    Yet walk their ways alone.

  There are songs enough for the lovers

    Who share love’s tender pain,

  I sing for the one whose passion

    Is given all in vain.

  For those whose spirit comrades

    Have missed them on their way,

  I sing, with a heart o’erflowing,

    This minor strain to-day.

  And I know the Solar system

    Must somewhere keep in space

  A prize for that spent runner

    Who barely lost the race.

  For the plan would be imperfect

    Unless it held some sphere

  That paid for the toil and talent

    And love that are wasted here.

Ella Wheeler Wilcox