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<channel><title><![CDATA[LINDA DURHAM - Wonder & Wander]]></title><link><![CDATA[https://www.lindadurham.us/wonder--wander]]></link><description><![CDATA[Wonder & Wander]]></description><pubDate>Tue, 23 Jun 2026 18:03:28 -0700</pubDate><generator>Weebly</generator><item><title><![CDATA[BUILDING A CHAPEL LA CAPELLA]]></title><link><![CDATA[https://www.lindadurham.us/wonder--wander/building-a-chapel-la-capella]]></link><comments><![CDATA[https://www.lindadurham.us/wonder--wander/building-a-chapel-la-capella#comments]]></comments><pubDate>Sun, 15 Jun 2025 07:00:00 GMT</pubDate><category><![CDATA[Uncategorized]]></category><guid isPermaLink="false">https://www.lindadurham.us/wonder--wander/building-a-chapel-la-capella</guid><description><![CDATA[       In the middle of a small clearing, surrounded by old-growth juniper and pi&ntilde;on trees, and with the strength and expertise of two talented artisans, I built a small rock chapel.Why? Maybe just because. That&rsquo;s my answer (usually unspoken) when friends and strangers ask why.Are you Catholic? No, not big-C Catholic, that is&mdash;but yes, small-c catholic&mdash;in my wide-ranging spiritual thoughts and contemplations. I&rsquo;m as interested in the beliefs of Wiccans, Muslims, and [...] ]]></description><content:encoded><![CDATA[<div><div class="wsite-image wsite-image-border-none " style="padding-top:10px;padding-bottom:10px;margin-left:0;margin-right:0;text-align:center"> <a> <img src="https://www.lindadurham.us/uploads/1/3/4/9/134907317/published/img-7234.jpeg?1751441765" alt="Picture" style="width:auto;max-width:100%" /> </a> <div style="display:block;font-size:90%"></div> </div></div>  <div class="paragraph"><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);">In the middle of a small clearing, surrounded by old-growth juniper and pi&ntilde;on trees, and with the strength and expertise of two talented artisans, I built a small rock chapel.</span><br /><font color="#000000">Why? Maybe just because. That&rsquo;s my answer (usually unspoken) when friends and strangers ask why.<br /><br /></font><span style="color:rgb(0, 0, 0)"><span>Are you Catholic? No, not big-C Catholic, that is&mdash;but yes, small-c catholic&mdash;in my wide-ranging spiritual thoughts and contemplations. I&rsquo;m as interested in the beliefs of Wiccans, Muslims, and Jews as I am in those of monks, nuns, priests, and popes.</span></span><br /><br /><span style="color:rgb(0, 0, 0)"><span>Did GOD call you and tell you to build a chapel? Not exactly&hellip; or not at all.</span></span><br /><br /><span style="color:rgb(0, 0, 0)"><span>For many years, the idea of having my own chapel intrigued me. I could light candles and place interesting objects on an altar&hellip; I could sing in solitude.</span></span><br /><br /><span style="color:rgb(0, 0, 0)"><span>As a child, I made secret, chapel-like hiding places in my backyard, in the woods, or in places I went to be alone&mdash;to escape and to commune.</span></span><br /><br /><span style="color:rgb(0, 0, 0)"><span>There is a small stone capella on a hill overlooking the road to a house where I once lived. I never climbed to it&mdash;just acknowledged it and pretend-coveted it every time I drove by.</span></span><br /><br /><span style="color:rgb(0, 0, 0)"><span>And then...</span></span><br /><br /><span style="color:rgb(0, 0, 0)"><span>Time, ongoing inclination, and other circumstances combined to make building my own chapel a possibility&mdash;and finally, a reality.</span></span><br /><br /><span style="color:rgb(0, 0, 0)"><span>I am calling it &ldquo;The Little Chapel of Peace&rdquo; until another name emerges. World Peace is its/my private mission here at seven thousand feet, on a remote road, thirty miles from Santa Fe. Friends have brought small milagros to place in the rock crevices. Maybe people will send me small stones from other countries, and I will find places for them somewhere in the hard folds of this strong and humble peace offering to the world&hellip;<br />&#8203;</span></span><br /><span style="color:rgb(0, 0, 0)"><span>Yes, I&rsquo;m a dreamer.</span></span></div>  <div><div style="height: 20px; overflow: hidden;"></div> 				<div id='411314694663765131-gallery' class='imageGallery' style='line-height: 0px; padding: 0; margin: 0'><div id='411314694663765131-imageContainer0' style='float:left;width:33.28%;margin:0;'><div id='411314694663765131-insideImageContainer0' style='position:relative;margin:5px;'><div class='galleryImageHolder' style='position:relative; width:100%; padding:0 0 100%;overflow:hidden;'><div class='galleryInnerImageHolder'><a href='https://www.lindadurham.us/uploads/1/3/4/9/134907317/img-7002_orig.jpeg' rel='lightbox[gallery411314694663765131]'><img src='https://www.lindadurham.us/uploads/1/3/4/9/134907317/img-7002.jpeg' class='galleryImage' _width='480' _height='640' style='position:absolute;border:0;width:100%;top:-16.67%;left:0%' /></a></div></div></div></div><div id='411314694663765131-imageContainer1' style='float:left;width:33.28%;margin:0;'><div id='411314694663765131-insideImageContainer1' style='position:relative;margin:5px;'><div class='galleryImageHolder' style='position:relative; 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clear: both; height: 0px; overflow: hidden;'></span></div> 				<div style="height: 20px; overflow: hidden;"></div></div>]]></content:encoded></item><item><title><![CDATA[Imposter VS Imposter Syndrome]]></title><link><![CDATA[https://www.lindadurham.us/wonder--wander/imposter-vs-imposter-syndrome]]></link><comments><![CDATA[https://www.lindadurham.us/wonder--wander/imposter-vs-imposter-syndrome#comments]]></comments><pubDate>Mon, 19 Jun 2023 10:00:00 GMT</pubDate><category><![CDATA[blog]]></category><guid isPermaLink="false">https://www.lindadurham.us/wonder--wander/imposter-vs-imposter-syndrome</guid><description><![CDATA[&ldquo;It&rsquo;s not lying. It&rsquo;s theatre.&rdquo;&nbsp;&nbsp;Linda Durham  Imposter:&nbsp;a person who pretends to be someone else in order to deceive others.Imposter Syndrome: a&nbsp;cognitive distortion&nbsp;that causes people to doubt their accomplishments or skills. Those with the syndrome doubt others&rsquo; high regard for their track record.  Finally, I am acknowledging my well-developed &ldquo;imposter&nbsp;self&rdquo;. This is enabling me to re-connect with my recalcitrant reality [...] ]]></description><content:encoded><![CDATA[<h2 class="wsite-content-title" style="text-align:center;"><font size="6"><strong style="color:rgb(34, 34, 34)"><em><span>&ldquo;It&rsquo;s not lying. It&rsquo;s theatre.&rdquo;</span></em></strong><span style="color:rgb(34, 34, 34)">&nbsp;&nbsp;</span><br /></font><span style="color:rgb(34, 34, 34)"><font size="3">Linda Durham</font></span></h2>  <div class="paragraph"><font color="#2a2a2a"><strong><em>Imposter:&nbsp;</em></strong><em><strong>a person who pretends to be someone else in order to deceive others</strong></em><strong><em>.<br /></em></strong><br /><strong><em>Imposter Syndrome: a&nbsp;</em></strong><a><strong><em>cognitive distortion</em></strong></a><strong><em>&nbsp;that causes people to doubt their accomplishments or skills. Those with the syndrome doubt others&rsquo; high regard for their track record.</em></strong></font><br /></div>  <div class="paragraph">Finally, I am acknowledging my well-developed &ldquo;<strong><em>imposter</em></strong>&nbsp;<strong><em>self</em></strong>&rdquo;. This is enabling me to re-connect with my recalcitrant reality. It has taken years to confront my well-honed&nbsp;<strong>imposter syndrome</strong>!<br /><br />There was a time when all compliments directed at me (<em>You look beautiful&hellip;that was a great job&hellip;I&rsquo;m amazed by your courage&hellip;creativity&hellip;ability</em>) engendered a negative &ldquo;innerspeak&rdquo; in me.<br /><br />The judgmental and insecure Linda would quickly relegate the &ldquo;complimentor&rdquo; to one of three boxes:<br />Box 1: The person was a liar.<br />Box 2: The person was stupid.<br />Box 3: The person was tricked&mdash;by me.<br /><br /><strong>Here&rsquo;s a story---possibly with a lesson or a moral.<br /></strong><br />Almost fifty years ago, at the very beginning of my so-called career, I scheduled a trip to New York to meet with a prestigious gallery director. I purchased a designer suit---<em>&ldquo;Dress for Success&rdquo;&nbsp;</em>was a slogan that held considerable sway for this inexperienced girl-of-the-desert<em>.</em><br />Ready, get set, go!<br /><br />I was eager to be seen as a player in the mysterious and addictive world of contemporary Art---not knowing how steep the learning curve would be. My immediate goal was to appear polished and professional.<br /><br />Alas,&nbsp;<em>I was neither!&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;<br /></em><br />I booked a room at the sophisticated&nbsp;<em>(read expensive, uptown)</em>&nbsp;St. Regis Hotel. When I gave my name to the (snooty?) reservation clerk, he asked, &ldquo;Is that Miss or Mrs.?&nbsp;<em>I wondered&hellip;Is he asking if I&rsquo;m married or single?<br /></em><br />My response? &ldquo;That&rsquo;s Doctor.&rdquo; &nbsp;<em>Ha!</em>&nbsp;<em>What a good way NOT to answer his question!</em><br />From that first impulsive utterance of the unearned (imposter) honorific, I embraced the theatrical role of &ldquo;Dr. Durham&rdquo;.&nbsp; It served me well for decades.<br /><br />Caution: If you choose to use this confidence-creating trick, be sure to have an easy response in case you find yourself in an emergency situation.<br /><br />For example: a distressed person needs immediate medical attention. You&rsquo;re on a plane, somewhere over the Atlantic Ocean or on a remote atoll far from civilization and you hear frantic calls from nearby witnesses, &ldquo;Is there a doctor here? Can anyone perform mouth-to-mouth resuscitation on this dying man?&rdquo;<br /><br />Perhaps all eyes seem directed at you, Pretend Doctor! May I suggest a possible lawsuit-avoiding response. &ldquo;I&rsquo;m an entomologist---not a medical doctor.&rdquo; Said apologetically. Feel free to use it.<br />&nbsp;<br />The moral of this story could be:&nbsp;<em>If, in making it, you use a strategy of faking it, you may end up breaking a bunch of rules and being seen or mis-seen as nobody&rsquo;s fool---except your own.<br />&#8203;</em><br />Many times, I felt like my own fool.<br /></div>]]></content:encoded></item><item><title><![CDATA[Conversation with Sparkle: Part Two]]></title><link><![CDATA[https://www.lindadurham.us/wonder--wander/conversation-with-sparkle-part-two]]></link><comments><![CDATA[https://www.lindadurham.us/wonder--wander/conversation-with-sparkle-part-two#comments]]></comments><pubDate>Tue, 13 Jun 2023 09:30:00 GMT</pubDate><category><![CDATA[The Sparkle Chronicles]]></category><guid isPermaLink="false">https://www.lindadurham.us/wonder--wander/conversation-with-sparkle-part-two</guid><description><![CDATA[This is part 2 of an excerpt from a taped conversation Sparkle and I had in 1995.She calls me &ldquo;Jill&rdquo;&mdash;my &ldquo;Bunny name&rdquo;.Click here to read part one.  Linda: For me, it's telling the truth., finding or knowing the truth. For me, truth is sopowerful, freeing, enlightening, and so entertaining. All of those things that I really like.I think, when the truth is spoken, it hits the air in a whole different way than a lie. Itsounds different, feels different. It smells so muc [...] ]]></description><content:encoded><![CDATA[<div class="paragraph"><em style="color:rgb(63, 63, 63)">This is part 2 of an excerpt from a taped conversation Sparkle and I had in 1995.<br />She calls me &ldquo;Jill&rdquo;&mdash;my &ldquo;Bunny name&rdquo;.<br /><br /><a href="https://www.lindadurham.us/wonder--wander/conversation-with-sparkle-part-one" target="_blank">Click here </a>to read part one.</em><br /></div>  <div class="paragraph"><strong>Linda:</strong> For me, it's telling the truth., finding or knowing the truth. For me, truth is so<br />powerful, freeing, enlightening, and so entertaining. All of those things that I really like.<br />I think, when the truth is spoken, it hits the air in a whole different way than a lie. It<br />sounds different, feels different. It smells so much better than bullshit.<br />I used to tell my kids that the bad thing about lying wasn&rsquo;t that if you get caught lying<br />you&rsquo;ll get in trouble. The bad thing about lying is that it pollutes. You know? A lie goes<br />out into the room or the air...and it pollutes everything.<br /><br /><strong>Sparkle: </strong>Yeah.<br /><br /><strong>Linda:</strong> ...it has a kind of sick energy, and it flits around, and pollutes the environment.<br />And, I'm an environmentalist! A communication environmentalist. I mean, I want to clean<br />stuff up. Get rid of the lies. In my earliest days, I bordered on being a pathological liar. I felt totally insecure about who I really was and I wanted desperately to be something other than that. So, I invented a more interesting family and a more impressive educational background. I&rsquo;m almost sure I stopped doing that a long time ago. Maybe not. I&rsquo;m still trying to prove<br />something, or do something, or be something more or better than I am&mdash;even just in the<br />eyes of strangers. I&rsquo;m coming to understand what that's about---that what you start out<br />wanting to do or prove is always different than&mdash;and not necessarily as good as---what<br />you end up doing or figuring out&hellip;That&rsquo;s my story.<br /><br /><strong>Sparkle:&nbsp;</strong>I found out that a lot of my problems, a lot of the reasons that I ended up doing<br />drugs and alcohol, had a lot to do with the fact that so many people expected so much<br />from me. Like you said, "Oh, Sparkle, you were always, you know, up there!"<br /><br /><strong>Linda:</strong> It's true. You know, you were the beautiful, sparkling, super woman.<br />No one sparkled like Sparkle.<br /><br /><strong>Sparkle:</strong> Right. And it's like, God, I just wanted to take a break from that. I wanted a<br />breather. I didn't want to have to prove myself to anybody. I didn&rsquo;t think I had anything<br />worth proving. Not really. Nothing real. It was so much easier to be down there with<br />street people drinking wine under the bridge and not having, you know, not having to<br />prove myself or impress the other homeless people because, hey, I was just there under<br />the bridge drinking wine just like them. I didn't ask them if they had once been a<br />congressional candidate or did they ever do real estate... And they never asked me<br />anything like that. So, they didn't expect anything. They didn't expect anything from me.<br />And I could cruise I could just take it easy. I could do nothing. I didn't have to do anything.<br />Or be anything. Or show up all Sparkle-like.<br /><br /><strong>Linda: </strong>(imitating a pretentious voice) "Oh, Sparkle, your outfit is adorable! We must have<br />lunch soon."<br /><br /><strong>Sparkle:</strong> Right. and nobody would say, &ldquo;Gee, what are you doing with yourself these days?&rdquo;<br /><br /><strong>Linda: </strong>Yeah.<br /><br /><strong>Sparkle: </strong>And no one saw me or looked at me like, (imitating a haughty voice) &ldquo;Gee, isn't<br />it a shame? Remember what she used to be?&rdquo; And especially I didn&rsquo;t want to see you, Jill.<br />I didn&rsquo;t want to see you. Because when I saw you&mdash;you, of all people, knew what I could do.<br />&#8203;So, I couldn't see you. Because then, geez, you know, I'd be really depressed for days after that, Jill. You know? And, now I don't feel that way, you know. Now I don't feel that way at all.</div>  <h2 class="wsite-content-title" style="text-align:center;">"<span style="color:rgb(63, 63, 63)">I didn't want to have to prove myself to anybody. I didn&rsquo;t think I had anything&nbsp;</span><span style="color:rgb(63, 63, 63)">worth proving. Not really. Nothing real. It was so much easier to be down there with&nbsp;</span><span style="color:rgb(63, 63, 63)">street people drinking wine under the bridge and not having, you know, not having to&nbsp;</span><span style="color:rgb(63, 63, 63)">prove myself or impress the other homeless people because, hey, I was just there under&nbsp;</span><span style="color:rgb(63, 63, 63)">the bridge drinking wine just like them.</span></h2>  <div>  <!--BLOG_SUMMARY_END--></div>  <div class="paragraph" style="text-align:left;"><strong>Linda:</strong> Getting past the shame&hellip;it's important. So, like your life, your today life, is<br />extremely important. And being able to see that, know that, and talk about it&hellip;well,<br />that&rsquo;s&hellip;important&hellip;that&rsquo;s a breakthrough.<br /><br /><strong>Sparkle:</strong> Now, I don't feel ashamed of telling anyone what I went through, right? When I<br />was going through it, I was ashamed. You know, because I knew that people would<br />think less of me, and a lot of them did.<br /><br /><strong>Linda:</strong> Well, yeah.<br /><br /><strong>Sparkle:</strong> I think a lot of it, too, was fear that that's all that would happen, fear that they'd<br />seen other people who had gone in that direction and never pulled out. And they saw<br />that maybe that was going to happen to me.<br /><br /><strong>Linda:</strong> Yeah, where is people&rsquo;s optimism about others! Also, there's this whole personal<br />insecurity thing that everybody has, and sometimes, bless our silly hearts, when<br />something bad happens to someone else, you feel a little more secure about yourself.<br />Sparkle Yeah. That's right. (imitating a self-righteous person) At least that didn&rsquo;t happen<br />to me!<br /><br /><strong>Linda:</strong> You know (imitating another &ldquo;superior-acting&rdquo; person)&ldquo;&hellip;I may not have been as<br />beautiful as Sparkle&hellip;<br /><br /><strong>Sparkle:</strong> (finishing the sentence)...but boy I'm sure not under a bridge.<br /><br />(Laughter)<br /><br />Right. You know, I found that attitude even in rehab centers, Jill. OK? Like, hey, I might<br />be an alcoholic, but I never &hellip;blah, blah. Or I might be an alcoholic, but I never did drugs.<br />&#8203;And I would just look them right in the face. Now I can look them right in the face<br />and say, &ldquo;Oh, your addiction is better than mine? You know, this is ridiculous. We're all here together and we've all got something to offer to everybody else that's here.&rdquo;<br /><br /><strong>We both fall silent&hellip;<br /><br />Sparkle:</strong> Jill, you know, I went from being a Bunny to being a bag lady--and back.<br /><br /><strong>Linda:</strong> Yeah! You know, the bag lady thing has a weird sort of appeal to me&hellip;<br />&#8203;<br /><strong>Sparkle:</strong> Ha! It may not be something you would want to experience in your life.<br /><br /><strong>Linda:</strong> Well, I did want to! I do want to---like I said, in a weird way. I wanted to experience it<br />---but as a spy.<br /><br /><strong>Sparkle:</strong> Oh, yeah. Not really living it.<br /><br /><strong>Linda:</strong> I wanted to dress like a bag lady.<br /><br /><strong>Sparkle:</strong> Yeah, yeah, and pretend you were one, and see what it was like. But see, then<br />you could go home at the end of the day and take a bath and call up and have pizza<br />ordered in, or whatever.<br /><br /><strong>Linda:</strong> Exactly. And I could tell people about the streets...<br /><br /><strong>Sparkle: </strong>And you would never know, Jill. You would never really know what it was like--<br />unless you were out there and you could not take a bath.<br /><br /><strong>Linda:&nbsp;</strong>Yeah.<br /><br /><strong>Sparkle:</strong> Because you wouldn&rsquo;t have people say, well, &ldquo;why don't you just go and get a<br />job and better yourself?&rdquo; Because, how can you get a job if you fucking can't take a<br />bath? And you can't iron your clothes? And then, if you do get it together and you go to<br />a shelter, and you iron your clothes, and you get a meal in you so you're not shaking so<br />badly, and you get a shower and you're clean and your clothes are pressed and you're<br />presentable to go for a job and you go out for a job interview and they say, "Yes, we<br />might have something. Where can we call you tomorrow?"<br /></div>  <h2 class="wsite-content-title" style="text-align:center;">"...&nbsp;<span style="color:rgb(63, 63, 63)">Because you wouldn&rsquo;t have people say, well, &ldquo;why don't you just go and get a&nbsp;</span><span style="color:rgb(63, 63, 63)">job and better yourself?&rdquo; Because, how can you get a job if you fucking can't take a&nbsp;</span><span style="color:rgb(63, 63, 63)">bath? And you can't iron your clothes?"</span></h2>  <div class="paragraph"><strong style="color:rgb(63, 63, 63)">Linda:</strong><span style="color:rgb(63, 63, 63)">&nbsp;And you can't ...?</span><br /><br /><strong style="color:rgb(63, 63, 63)">Sparkle:</strong><span style="color:rgb(63, 63, 63)">&nbsp;No, you they can&rsquo;t call you. You don't have a phone! No, they can't call the</span><br /><span style="color:rgb(63, 63, 63)">shelter. That' not allowed. Shelters aren';t allowed to take calls like that. You're not</span><br /><span style="color:rgb(63, 63, 63)">allowed to give the shelter as a phone number. And if you do, then you're immediately</span><br /><span style="color:rgb(63, 63, 63)">rejected for the next person that';s going to come in who has a home and has to pay</span><br /><span style="color:rgb(63, 63, 63)">bills. Why are they going to hire some slob from off the street who obviously just wants&nbsp;</span>the money to go and get a bottle of wine? And will probably just quit on them or come in<br />drunk.<br /><br /><strong>Linda:</strong> Yeah.<br /><br /><strong>Sparkle:&nbsp;</strong>And that's their immediate impression. They're not going to give somebody a<br />job if they think that. So, how is that person ever going to better themselves when they<br />need that job so they can stop drinking? So, they don&rsquo;t stop drinking because of the position they're in, and they can't get out of the position they're in, because people think they're drinking? And they won't give them a chance to stop. Drinking is all they have.<br /><br /><strong>Linda:</strong> A horrible Catch-22.<br /><br /><strong>Sparkle:</strong> It is. You know, it really is. And people are very, very, you know, they're living in<br />these gilded ivory towers, looking down, thinking that they're safe. When it can happen<br />to anybody, Jill. I know. Because it happened to me.<br /><br /><strong>Linda:</strong> Exactly.<br /><br /><strong>Sparkle:</strong> And I've lived in mansions and had limousines and had drivers and had my<br />own Mercedes and all that stuff too. And I ended up under a bridge, with not even a<br />sleeping bag. You know, it can happen to anybody.</div>  <h2 class="wsite-content-title" style="text-align:center;">"<span style="color:rgb(63, 63, 63)">I've lived in mansions and had limousines and had drivers and had my&nbsp;</span><span style="color:rgb(63, 63, 63)">own Mercedes and all that stuff too. And I ended up under a bridge, with not even a&nbsp;</span><span style="color:rgb(63, 63, 63)">sleeping bag. You know, it can happen to anybody."</span></h2>]]></content:encoded></item><item><title><![CDATA[Conversation with Sparkle: Part One]]></title><link><![CDATA[https://www.lindadurham.us/wonder--wander/conversation-with-sparkle-part-one]]></link><comments><![CDATA[https://www.lindadurham.us/wonder--wander/conversation-with-sparkle-part-one#comments]]></comments><pubDate>Thu, 08 Jun 2023 10:00:00 GMT</pubDate><category><![CDATA[The Sparkle Chronicles]]></category><guid isPermaLink="false">https://www.lindadurham.us/wonder--wander/conversation-with-sparkle-part-one</guid><description><![CDATA[&#8203;This is an excerpt from a taped conversation Sparkle and I had in 1995.She calls me &ldquo;Jill&rdquo;&mdash;my &ldquo;Bunny name&rdquo;.   	 		 			 				 					 						  Linda: OK&hellip; let&rsquo;s move this conversation from nostalgic reminiscences about our lives inGreenwich Village, Playboy, and the 1960s to these current lives of ours&hellip;because timeis fleeting. It&rsquo;s 1995. And, to put this into awesome perspective: on April 18th, youreached your 51st birthday.Sparkle: And I  [...] ]]></description><content:encoded><![CDATA[<div class="paragraph"><em>&#8203;This is an excerpt from a taped conversation Sparkle and I had in 1995.<br />She calls me &ldquo;Jill&rdquo;&mdash;my &ldquo;Bunny name&rdquo;.</em></div>  <div><div class="wsite-multicol"><div class="wsite-multicol-table-wrap" style="margin:0 -0px;"> 	<table class="wsite-multicol-table"> 		<tbody class="wsite-multicol-tbody"> 			<tr class="wsite-multicol-tr"> 				<td class="wsite-multicol-col" style="width:49.74025974026%; padding:0 0px;"> 					 						  <div class="paragraph"><strong>Linda:</strong> OK&hellip; let&rsquo;s move this conversation from nostalgic reminiscences about our lives in<br />Greenwich Village, Playboy, and the 1960s to these current lives of ours&hellip;because time<br />is fleeting. It&rsquo;s 1995. And, to put this into awesome perspective: on April 18th, you<br />reached your 51st birthday.<br /><br /><strong>Sparkle:</strong> And I never thought I&rsquo;d live this long.<br /><br />&#8203;<strong style="color:rgb(63, 63, 63)">Linda:&nbsp;</strong><span style="color:rgb(63, 63, 63)">You know, in all these years of hanging out on the planet, messing up, learning</span><br /><span style="color:rgb(63, 63, 63)">and unlearning stuff, I&rsquo;m finally starting to figure out that it&rsquo;s time to clarify some goals,&nbsp;some visions, time to project them onto the future. Visualize them. Visualize something</span><br /><span style="color:rgb(63, 63, 63)">that...something that will walk me&mdash;walk us--into a powerful future.</span><br /><span style="color:rgb(63, 63, 63)">Try to film something in your mind&hellip;like a movie on a big and flickering screen&hellip;</span></div>   					 				</td>				<td class="wsite-multicol-col" style="width:50.25974025974%; padding:0 0px;"> 					 						  <div class="wsite-spacer" style="height:45px;"></div>  <div><div class="wsite-image wsite-image-border-none " style="padding-top:10px;padding-bottom:10px;margin-left:0px;margin-right:0px;text-align:center"> <a> <img src="https://www.lindadurham.us/uploads/1/3/4/9/134907317/editor/sparkle-photo.png?1686737459" alt="Picture" style="width:357;max-width:100%" /> </a> <div style="display:block;font-size:90%">Sparkle and Jill</div> </div></div>   					 				</td>			</tr> 		</tbody> 	</table> </div></div></div>  <div class="paragraph"><strong style="color:rgb(63, 63, 63)">Sparkle:</strong><span style="color:rgb(63, 63, 63)">&nbsp;Good idea. Unfortunately, I've never been good at that. Maybe it&rsquo;s time. Maybe.</span><br /><span style="color:rgb(63, 63, 63)">Without sounding totally trite here, what I really believe is that I have to take my life one</span><br /><span style="color:rgb(63, 63, 63)">day at a time, Jill. I'm very much into that. All my past problems stemmed from getting</span><br /><span style="color:rgb(63, 63, 63)">too worried about too much, too stressed out about what the future had to offer me.</span><br /><span style="color:rgb(63, 63, 63)">That's what I'm still working on, Jill. That's what I'm working very hard on right now;</span><br /><span style="color:rgb(63, 63, 63)">finding something to be optimistic about. That&rsquo;s what I'm doing.</span><br /><br /><strong style="color:rgb(63, 63, 63)">Linda:</strong><span style="color:rgb(63, 63, 63)">&nbsp;I use the projection into the future idea to move me into something I want to</span><br /><span style="color:rgb(63, 63, 63)">make real. &lsquo;Cause, yeah, you can inherit money, or you can marry rich, or you can win</span><br /><span style="color:rgb(63, 63, 63)">the lottery, but you're still going be alone and you're still going be responsible for what</span><br /><span style="color:rgb(63, 63, 63)">happens to you and how those things come about. Aloneness is the constant for me.</span><br /><span style="color:rgb(63, 63, 63)">Personal optimism and crazy determination are what I rely on. I mean, face it, you and I</span><br /><span style="color:rgb(63, 63, 63)">are never going to be 21 or 35 again. So, we don't have any choice about those years.</span><br /><span style="color:rgb(63, 63, 63)">We don&rsquo;t have to know how to do 35, or how to do 42, or 50!</span><br /><br /><strong style="color:rgb(63, 63, 63)">Sparkle:</strong><span style="color:rgb(63, 63, 63)">&nbsp;That's right. Maybe I can figure out how to do 51 and a half, or how to do 52.</span><br /><br /><strong style="color:rgb(63, 63, 63)">Linda:&nbsp;</strong><span style="color:rgb(63, 63, 63)">Uh huh. And we both can figure out how to do 54, 55. And beyond.</span><br /><br /><strong style="color:rgb(63, 63, 63)">Sparkle:</strong><span style="color:rgb(63, 63, 63)">&nbsp;But I have to remember that I'm an alcoholic and an addict. I can&rsquo;t be</span><br /><span style="color:rgb(63, 63, 63)">responsible for the past or for any of that anymore. I can just be responsible for today.</span></div>  <h2 class="wsite-content-title" style="text-align:center;">"&#8203;<span style="color:rgb(63, 63, 63)">I can&rsquo;t be&nbsp;</span><span style="color:rgb(63, 63, 63)">responsible for the past or for any of that anymore.<br />&#8203;I can just be responsible for today."</span></h2>  <div>  <!--BLOG_SUMMARY_END--></div>  <div class="paragraph"><strong style="color:rgb(63, 63, 63)">Linda:</strong><span style="color:rgb(63, 63, 63)">&nbsp;Well, you can be aware of tomorrow and tomorrow&mdash;because you know how they</span><br /><span style="color:rgb(63, 63, 63)">creep in!</span><br /><br /><strong style="color:rgb(63, 63, 63)">Sparkle:&nbsp;</strong><span style="color:rgb(63, 63, 63)">Yeah, &ldquo;lighted fools and dusty death&rdquo;</span><br /><br /><strong style="color:rgb(63, 63, 63)">Linda:</strong><span style="color:rgb(63, 63, 63)">&nbsp;Me? I started my whole gallery fantasy with almost nothing ---with coal, air, and</span><br /><span style="color:rgb(63, 63, 63)">water. And somehow, I created some kind of a business. I created illusions. Pushed</span><br /><span style="color:rgb(63, 63, 63)">myself. Many times, I woke up terrified -- and I would think, oh my God, everything's</span><br /><span style="color:rgb(63, 63, 63)">going wrong. But---pause, pause&mdash;I would ask myself, &lsquo;Am I going to be OK today? Just</span><br /><span style="color:rgb(63, 63, 63)">today? Do I have enough money to get through today? Is there any bill that's going to</span><br /><span style="color:rgb(63, 63, 63)">be due today that I can't pay? Is the bank or someone going to come knocking on my</span><br /><span style="color:rgb(63, 63, 63)">door asking for money that I don&rsquo;t have? Am I OK for just today?&rsquo; That's been my kind of</span><br /><span style="color:rgb(63, 63, 63)">one-day-at-a-time thing.</span><br /><span style="color:rgb(63, 63, 63)">Okay, so if this is Wednesday, I can only do Wednesday's work. What is Wednesday's</span><br /><span style="color:rgb(63, 63, 63)">work? But maybe Wednesday's work can be about ...</span><br /><br /><strong style="color:rgb(63, 63, 63)">Sparkle:</strong><span style="color:rgb(63, 63, 63)">&nbsp;...preparing you for Thursday&rsquo;s work, preparing you for next Wednesday.</span><br /><br /><strong style="color:rgb(63, 63, 63)">Linda:</strong><span style="color:rgb(63, 63, 63)">&nbsp;Right. Or for helping me complete or get a handle on something big. Like these</span><br /><span style="color:rgb(63, 63, 63)">conversations. And, actually, putting together a book about all the bad things that</span><br /><span style="color:rgb(63, 63, 63)">happened, all the scary things that happened as well as all the great things that</span><br /><span style="color:rgb(63, 63, 63)">happened. All the mistakes -- for both of us, in different ways. Maybe our stories have</span><br /><span style="color:rgb(63, 63, 63)">the possibility of making a positive difference. Somehow. Somewhere. Well, in our lives,</span><br /><span style="color:rgb(63, 63, 63)">at least, if we can understand and forgive ourselves or laugh or regroup. But, also for</span><br /><span style="color:rgb(63, 63, 63)">other people. To be an inspiration...to be a cheerleader for others.</span><br /><br /><strong style="color:rgb(63, 63, 63)">Sparkle:</strong><span style="color:rgb(63, 63, 63)">&nbsp;Yes, yes, I understand it. I understand exactly. You know, it's about... For me</span><br /><span style="color:rgb(63, 63, 63)">right now, all I know is it's about working towards the light. All right? Getting out of the</span><br /><span style="color:rgb(63, 63, 63)">darkness. You know how people always say, well, at least you can see the light at the</span><br /><span style="color:rgb(63, 63, 63)">end of the tunnel? Well, for me, the light was always a train coming, heading straight at</span><br /><span style="color:rgb(63, 63, 63)">me, you know.</span><br /><br /><strong style="color:rgb(63, 63, 63)">Linda:</strong><span style="color:rgb(63, 63, 63)">&nbsp;Yeah.</span><br /><br /><strong style="color:rgb(63, 63, 63)">Sparkle:&nbsp;</strong><span style="color:rgb(63, 63, 63)">It wasn't the end of the tunnel at all. Now, I definitely see light. I don't...I'm not</span><br /><span style="color:rgb(63, 63, 63)">surrounded by this darkness anymore. And I'm working towards having more light in my</span><br /><span style="color:rgb(63, 63, 63)">life than darkness. And one of the things I would like to do, and I hope, through what</span><br /><span style="color:rgb(63, 63, 63)">we're doing here, is maybe helping somebody else get out of their darkness and see the</span><br /><span style="color:rgb(63, 63, 63)">light. Because maybe they can see a similar bond with me or my experience or maybe</span><br /><span style="color:rgb(63, 63, 63)">they&rsquo;ve had or seen a similar experience. Maybe they can see that there is hope and</span><br /><span style="color:rgb(63, 63, 63)">that there is an end to despair. There is an end to...</span><br /><br /><strong style="color:rgb(63, 63, 63)">Linda:&nbsp;</strong><span style="color:rgb(63, 63, 63)">to the bottom.</span><br /><br /><strong style="color:rgb(63, 63, 63)">Sparkle:&nbsp;</strong><span style="color:rgb(63, 63, 63)">Yes, there is definitely a bottom and, when you fall into it, you can start climbing</span><br /><span style="color:rgb(63, 63, 63)">upward again.</span><br /><br /><strong style="color:rgb(63, 63, 63)">Linda:</strong><span style="color:rgb(63, 63, 63)">&nbsp;Exactly. Exactly.</span><br /><br /><strong style="color:rgb(63, 63, 63)">Sparkle:&nbsp;</strong><span style="color:rgb(63, 63, 63)">And it's a really good feeling. You don't have to think that you've got to catapult</span><br /><span style="color:rgb(63, 63, 63)">up to the top, you know, skyrocket to the top. Just climb. Take it slow.</span><br /><br /><strong style="color:rgb(63, 63, 63)">Linda and Sparkle (together):&nbsp;</strong><span style="color:rgb(63, 63, 63)">One day at a time.</span></div>]]></content:encoded></item><item><title><![CDATA[Risk-Taking]]></title><link><![CDATA[https://www.lindadurham.us/wonder--wander/risk-taking]]></link><comments><![CDATA[https://www.lindadurham.us/wonder--wander/risk-taking#comments]]></comments><pubDate>Fri, 19 May 2023 13:48:32 GMT</pubDate><category><![CDATA[blog]]></category><category><![CDATA[Wonder]]></category><guid isPermaLink="false">https://www.lindadurham.us/wonder--wander/risk-taking</guid><description><![CDATA[  To dare is to lose one&rsquo;s footing momentarily. To not dare is to lose oneself.--Soren Kierkegaard  Some mornings, when I wake up, it takes me a minute or two to enter the day; to&nbsp;choose&nbsp;to enter the day. My dreams are so exciting and baffling. I want to engage the players, characters, and situations some more.&nbsp;No such luck! My dog wants to go outside; my cats want to be fed&hellip;I throw back the covers as the intriguing dream recedes. Fades. Disappears. I turn my mind to  [...] ]]></description><content:encoded><![CDATA[  <div class="paragraph" style="text-align:center;"><em>To dare is to lose one&rsquo;s footing momentarily. To not dare is to lose oneself.</em><br />--<em>Soren Kierkegaard</em></div>  <div class="paragraph">Some mornings, when I wake up, it takes me a minute or two to enter the day; to&nbsp;<em>choose&nbsp;</em>to enter the day. My dreams are so exciting and baffling. I want to engage the players, characters, and situations some more.&nbsp;No such luck! My dog wants to go outside; my cats want to be fed&hellip;I throw back the covers as the intriguing dream recedes. Fades. Disappears. I turn my mind to the reality of another day, another gift from the Universe.&nbsp;One dream world diminishes as another takes shape:&nbsp;<br /><br />Today!<br /><br />What dreams, I wonder are&nbsp;still mine as&nbsp;I begin my octogenarian years?&nbsp; What dreams are yours??<br /><br />A.&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Lucid Dreams<br />B.&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Daydreams<br />C.&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Bigger and Better Dreams<br />D.&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Postponed Dreams<br />E.&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Nightmares<br />F.&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;All of the Above<br /><br />Do our&nbsp;dreams depend on where we focus our attention?<br /><br />Here&rsquo;s the thing: Yogi Berra was right: &ldquo;It ain&rsquo;t over &lsquo;til it&rsquo;s over.&rdquo;<br /><br />The entire future is still available.<br /><br />So, what if some mornings my leg cramps for a minute! So, what if the face I face in the bathroom mirror looks momentarily unfamiliar? So what!<br /><br />I splash water on that face and tell her to smile from her heart. I find some shoes. I feed the insistent cats and my patient dog&hellip;<br /><br />I go outside. There it is: the air, the ground, the sky. My chickens. And the birds!<br /><br />Stretch. Bend. Move. Breathe. Walk. Skip. Sing. Hum. Look. Listen&hellip;and say aloud, &ldquo;I Love My Life!&rdquo;<br />Go ahead. Risk it! Risk being optimistic, determined, grateful&hellip;<br /><br />What do you want; what do you need? Where does your dream live?<br />Keep speaking your dream out loud. Keep thinking about it, considering it, praying for it, wanting it, going for it, trying it, starting it, finishing it, doing it&hellip;<br /><br />That&rsquo;s the spirit!<br /><br />May we give ourselves permission to ask for what we truly want at 100 %.<br />&#8203;<br />&hellip;The trip &ndash; The book &ndash; The poem &ndash; The project &ndash; The phone call&hellip;</div>  <div><div class="wsite-image wsite-image-border-none " style="padding-top:10px;padding-bottom:30px;margin-left:0px;margin-right:0px;text-align:center"> <a> <img src="https://www.lindadurham.us/uploads/1/3/4/9/134907317/do-you-dare-to-risk_orig.png" alt="Picture" style="width:auto;max-width:100%" /> </a> <div style="display:block;font-size:90%"></div> </div></div>  <div class="paragraph"><span style="color:rgb(63, 63, 63)">Are you waiting for APPROVAL?&nbsp; From whom? For what?</span><br /><span style="color:rgb(63, 63, 63)">&nbsp;</span><br /><span style="color:rgb(63, 63, 63)">Are you weighing risks?&nbsp; What if you do &ldquo;it&rdquo;? What if you don&rsquo;t?&nbsp; Suppose you had done it?</span><br /><span style="color:rgb(63, 63, 63)">&nbsp;</span><br /><span style="color:rgb(63, 63, 63)">What would you risk doing now that you would not have risked when you were younger?</span><br /><span style="color:rgb(63, 63, 63)">What would you NOT risk now that you did or would have risked in the past?</span><br /><span style="color:rgb(63, 63, 63)">&nbsp;</span><br /><span style="color:rgb(63, 63, 63)">What are the basic risks of &ldquo;Showing Up&rdquo;?</span><br /><span style="color:rgb(63, 63, 63)">&nbsp;</span><br /><span style="color:rgb(63, 63, 63)">In Baghdad, I weighed the risk of (possibly/probably) getting quite sick against the risk of insulting the generous, internally displaced Iraqi woman who graciously offered me a glass of Tang-like beverage as I stood in the bombed-out, makeshift living quarters that she shared with her large and struggling family.</span><br /><span style="color:rgb(63, 63, 63)">&nbsp;</span><br /><span style="color:rgb(63, 63, 63)">Some say I shouldn&rsquo;t have risked it!</span><br /><span style="color:rgb(63, 63, 63)">Some say, &ldquo;Of course, you drank the Tang!&rdquo;</span><br /><span style="color:rgb(63, 63, 63)">How do you deal with (so-called) RISKS?<br />&#8203;</span><br /><span style="color:rgb(63, 63, 63)">Here is a magical poem that inspires me. Maybe it will inspire you:</span></div>  <div><div class="wsite-image wsite-image-border-none " style="padding-top:10px;padding-bottom:10px;margin-left:0;margin-right:0;text-align:center"> <a> <img src="https://www.lindadurham.us/uploads/1/3/4/9/134907317/poem_orig.png" alt="Picture" style="width:auto;max-width:100%" /> </a> <div style="display:block;font-size:90%"></div> </div></div>]]></content:encoded></item><item><title><![CDATA[Playground Lessons]]></title><link><![CDATA[https://www.lindadurham.us/wonder--wander/playground-lessons]]></link><comments><![CDATA[https://www.lindadurham.us/wonder--wander/playground-lessons#comments]]></comments><pubDate>Thu, 11 May 2023 07:00:00 GMT</pubDate><category><![CDATA[blog]]></category><guid isPermaLink="false">https://www.lindadurham.us/wonder--wander/playground-lessons</guid><description><![CDATA[       My personal creed for Life first developed on the playgrounds of my early childhood. By mastering the monkey bars and conquering the see-saw, I gained early confidence and uncovered nascent indications of creativity and determination.   &#8203;MONKEY BAR METAPHORS&#8203;On the Monkey Bars, there is an exquisite moment when it is necessary to take a swing of faith and trust one&rsquo;s ability to travel onward. Let go from behind, swing forward, reach, grasp, hold, let go from behind, swin [...] ]]></description><content:encoded><![CDATA[<div><div class="wsite-image wsite-image-border-none " style="padding-top:10px;padding-bottom:10px;margin-left:0;margin-right:0;text-align:center"> <a> <img src="https://www.lindadurham.us/uploads/1/3/4/9/134907317/published/kids-seesaw.jpg?1610211035" alt="Picture" style="width:auto;max-width:100%" /> </a> <div style="display:block;font-size:90%"></div> </div></div>  <div class="paragraph">My personal creed for Life first developed on the playgrounds of my early childhood. By mastering the monkey bars and conquering the see-saw, I gained early confidence and uncovered nascent indications of creativity and determination. <br /></div>  <div class="paragraph"><span><span style="color:rgb(0, 0, 0)"><strong>&#8203;MONKEY BAR METAPHORS</strong><br />&#8203;</span></span><br />On the Monkey Bars, there is an exquisite moment when it is necessary to take a swing of faith and trust one&rsquo;s ability to travel onward. Let go from behind, swing forward, reach, grasp, hold, let go from behind, swing forward, reach, grasp, hold, let go&hellip;<br />Intent on moving forward, I choose to let go of what is or was holding me back.<br />Navigating Life reminds me of navigating the monkey bars. It is about rhythm, courage, intention, plus the gravity-defying aim of making one&rsquo;s way across to the next place, and the next&hellip;<br />It&rsquo;s still a good metaphor for the ever-moving me as well as for those who consider opportunity, courage, movement, and continuation to be among the most interesting and important drivers of life?<br /><span><span style="color:rgb(0, 0, 0)">&nbsp;<br /><strong>SEE-SAW THOUGHTS</strong></span></span><br /><br />The unorthodox see-saw maneuvering of my long-ago youth indicated an aspect of my personal style. Most kids shared the see-saw with another friend&mdash;preferably a friend of a similar weight. The two teeter-totterers would sit facing one another and go up and down, using their feet to launch themselves upward, over and over. That was not my see-saw way. No, I preferred to mount the see-saw in the middle, straddle my legs on either side of the fulcrum, stand tall, and lean my weight sharply from side to side to control the movement of the see-saw. Challenging balance. Right, left, right, left. Balance. The rule of this solitary exercise was to maneuver the see-saw back and forth, as fast as possible, pushing both sides perilously close to the ground&mdash;without bumping. Of course, sometimes, I bumped. Once I recovered my balance, I prepared for the next bump.<br />From those teeter-tottering <span>playground</span> experiences, I learned that, in big life, bumping is inevitable. Also, the act (the gift, the talent) of letting go is something to hold on to&hellip;<span><span style="color:rgb(0, 0, 0)"></span></span><br /><br /><span><span style="color:rgb(0, 0, 0); font-weight:700">&ldquo;The world is but a perpetual see-saw.&rdquo;&nbsp; Michel de Montaigne&nbsp;</span></span><br /></div>]]></content:encoded></item><item><title><![CDATA[Wrinkles]]></title><link><![CDATA[https://www.lindadurham.us/wonder--wander/wrinkles]]></link><comments><![CDATA[https://www.lindadurham.us/wonder--wander/wrinkles#comments]]></comments><pubDate>Thu, 23 Mar 2023 16:33:09 GMT</pubDate><category><![CDATA[blog]]></category><guid isPermaLink="false">https://www.lindadurham.us/wonder--wander/wrinkles</guid><description><![CDATA[         When I was eight or nine, my Grandmother Bailey regularly instructed me to slather my face with Pond&rsquo;s Cold Cream every night. This would stave off&nbsp;wrinkles. Well, of course, I didn&rsquo;t follow her advice! Cold Cream was greasy and it had a scent (I can still conjure that Pond&rsquo;s olfactory unpleasantness). It was a bit too "old-grandma" for my taste.Anyway, I wasn&rsquo;t worried about&nbsp;wrinkles. I was worried about freckles!&nbsp;Freckles were an unfortunate impe [...] ]]></description><content:encoded><![CDATA[<div><div class="wsite-image wsite-image-border-none " style="padding-top:10px;padding-bottom:10px;margin-left:0;margin-right:0;text-align:center"> <a> <img src="https://www.lindadurham.us/uploads/1/3/4/9/134907317/wrinkles_orig.png" alt="Picture" style="width:auto;max-width:100%" /> </a> <div style="display:block;font-size:90%"></div> </div></div>  <div class="wsite-spacer" style="height:26px;"></div>  <div class="paragraph"><span style="color:black">When I was eight or nine, my Grandmother Bailey regularly instructed me to slather my face with Pond&rsquo;s Cold Cream every night. This would stave off&nbsp;<span>wrinkles</span>. Well, of course, I didn&rsquo;t follow her advice! Cold Cream was greasy and it had a scent (I can still conjure that Pond&rsquo;s olfactory unpleasantness). It was a bit too "old-grandma" for my taste.</span><br /><br /><span style="color:black">Anyway, I wasn&rsquo;t worried about&nbsp;<span>wrinkles</span>. I was worried about freckles!&nbsp;</span><br /><br /><span style="color:black">Freckles were an unfortunate imperfection; an imperfection that was unavoidably visible on my face, arms, and skinny little legs. Sure,&nbsp;<span>wrinkles</span>&nbsp;may have been a horrible reality to old people&mdash;but I didn&rsquo;t have&nbsp;<span>wrinkles</span>&nbsp;and I was lifetimes away from being old. Why be concerned about some future, future thing I couldn&rsquo;t imagine?!</span><br /><br /><span style="color:black">Classmates called me &ldquo;freckle-face&rdquo;.&nbsp;</span><br /><br /><span style="color:black">In third grade, Brian, who could barely read and who sat at the desk behind mine, posited that I had probably been left out in the rain when I was a baby and my hair got rusty and dripped on my face.&nbsp; Middle school boys suggested that I should stay out in the sun a lot more so all the spaces between my freckles would fill in and it would look like I had a tan. I knew that wouldn&rsquo;t work. It felt like thoughtless taunting.&nbsp;</span><br /><br /><span style="color:black">My own mother suggested putting urine on my face to bleach the freckles&mdash;like &ldquo;they&rdquo; did in Ireland, according to her. I knew my freckles (ha, &ldquo;like the back of my hand) and I could instantly see a reddish-brown speck anywhere in the freckled landscape of my body and recognize it as a foreign mark. A smudge. Some dried butterscotch spots. A careless peanut butter smear from lunch. Playground dirt.&nbsp;</span><br /><br /><span style="color:black">I could not wear dresses with polka dots.</span><br /><br /><span style="color:black">Had those myriad rusty freckles of mine been numbered--by an angel or perhaps by a supremely gifted Artist&mdash;I imagined being able to draw a line from number to number to number thus revealing a beautiful map or code or figure that illustrated the meaning of life or solved the secrets of the universe.&nbsp;</span><br /><br /><span style="color:black">As we know, years come and fade into the past; into memories. I stopped being concerned about freckles long ago. Freckles do fade with age and indoor living. The bothersome issue passed.</span><br /><br /><span style="color:black">Eventually and inevitably (I can&rsquo;t say I wasn&rsquo;t warned), the &ldquo;future, future&rdquo; showed up. It&rsquo;s here. It&rsquo;s been here for a few decades now. And, since I&rsquo;m still on the planet, it is clear that I&rsquo;ve entered an unenviable stage in many a mature woman&rsquo;s life. Let me now speak the dreaded &ldquo;W&rdquo; word:&nbsp;<span>Wrinkles</span>.&nbsp;</span><br /><br /><span style="color:black">I have reached and gotten accustomed to the&nbsp;<span>Wrinkled</span>&nbsp;Years. What the &ldquo;present, present&rdquo; is revealing to me about my &ldquo;past, past&rdquo; is that I never spent my long, long life hiding from the sun or strangers, or chance, or dangers. So, no wonder they all found me.&nbsp;<span>Wrinkles</span>&nbsp;invaded my face.</span><br /><br /><span style="color:black">Note to Life (as it goes on and on): Freckles fade:&nbsp;<span>Wrinkles</span>&nbsp;remain.&nbsp;<br />&#8203;</span><br /><span style="color:black">Alas, it's too late for Pond's Cold Cream.</span></div>]]></content:encoded></item><item><title><![CDATA[$465.58]]></title><link><![CDATA[https://www.lindadurham.us/wonder--wander/46558]]></link><comments><![CDATA[https://www.lindadurham.us/wonder--wander/46558#comments]]></comments><pubDate>Thu, 17 Jun 2021 16:19:57 GMT</pubDate><category><![CDATA[blog]]></category><guid isPermaLink="false">https://www.lindadurham.us/wonder--wander/46558</guid><description><![CDATA[Four hundred, sixty-five dollars and fifty-eight cents is the exact amount of money owed to me by BookBaby, the company that printed and &ldquo;distributed&rdquo; my memoir: STILL MOVING. Four hundred, sixty-five dollars and fifty-eight cents is the total amount of my earned commissions on book and Kindle sales from December 29, 2000--the pre-publication date--through the end of April, 2021.&nbsp;Ta-Dah!&nbsp;Let me break it down a bit more. The &ldquo;retail&rdquo; price of my memoir is $17.95. [...] ]]></description><content:encoded><![CDATA[<div class="paragraph"><span><span style="color:rgb(0, 0, 0)">Four hundred, sixty-five dollars and fifty-eight cents is the </span><span style="color:rgb(0, 0, 0)">exact </span><span style="color:rgb(0, 0, 0)">amount of money owed to me by BookBaby, the company that printed and &ldquo;distributed&rdquo; my memoir: STILL MOVING. Four hundred, sixty-five dollars and fifty-eight cents is the total amount of my earned commissions on book and Kindle sales from December 29, 2000--the pre-publication date--through the end of April, 2021.&nbsp;</span></span><br /><br /><span><span style="color:rgb(0, 0, 0)">Ta-Dah!&nbsp;</span></span><br /><br /><span><span style="color:rgb(0, 0, 0)">Let me break it down a bit more. The &ldquo;retail&rdquo; price of my memoir is $17.95. The</span><span style="color:rgb(0, 0, 0)"> less than laudable </span><span style="color:rgb(0, 0, 0)">figure of $465.58 represents this naive, overly-eager, first-time author&rsquo;s dollar share of sales on: 125 paperbacks ($360.03); 22 Amazon Kindles ($73.70); 2 Bookbaby Bookshop sales ($17.95); 1 &ldquo;i-book&rdquo; ($3.50); and 1 Amazon Kindle-CA ($3.51). On a better side&mdash;if not a truly &ldquo;the good side&rdquo;, in December, I had the foresight to purchase two hundred and fifty paperbacks at the special customer price of $10.80 a copy. These I sold privately&mdash;or gave away. For the purpose of this rant, I did not factor in those sales.&nbsp;</span></span><br /></div>  <div class="paragraph"><span style="color:rgb(63, 63, 63)"><span style="color:rgb(0, 0, 0)">Now, through simple arithmetic, I have deduced that four hundred and sixty-five dollars ($465.58) is thirty-two dollars and forty-two cents ($32.42) short of the number that my author&rsquo;s cut must reach before BookBaby cuts me a check.&nbsp;</span></span><br /><br /><span style="color:rgb(63, 63, 63)"><span style="color:rgb(0, 0, 0)">This is Life&mdash;not &ldquo;death of a thousand cuts&rdquo;!</span></span><br /><br /><span style="color:rgb(63, 63, 63)"><span style="color:rgb(0, 0, 0)">Surely, the magic number of five hundred dollars ($500.00) looms on my near-future BookBaby Author&rsquo;s accounting page.</span></span><br /><br /><span style="color:rgb(63, 63, 63)"><span style="color:rgb(0, 0, 0)">Note to Self: do not permit your confidence and optimism to waiver or be thwarted by the reality of your current (and far less than stellar) publishing circumstances. You are &ldquo;still moving&rdquo; towards a resounding small &ldquo;S&rdquo; success. May is such a friendly and promising month.</span></span><br /><br /><span style="color:rgb(63, 63, 63)"><span style="color:rgb(0, 0, 0)">As any first-time author, who has dreamed of good reviews and positive results and who has traveled the long and winding road of independent publishing, will attest: a self-publishing adventure is not for the faint-of-heart. Most, who have traveled this road&mdash;fraught with unintended consequences and helpful and unhelpful revelations--might pause before recommending this path to the easily discouraged.</span></span><br /><br /><span style="color:rgb(63, 63, 63)"><span style="color:rgb(0, 0, 0)">In the beginning, (wherever that was) I actually thought</span><span style="color:rgb(0, 0, 0)">&nbsp;writing</span><span style="color:rgb(0, 0, 0)">&nbsp;the book would be the most formidable road-to-authorship hill to climb. In my case, getting to the acceptable PDF stage took years. And more years.&nbsp;</span></span><br /><br /><span style="color:rgb(63, 63, 63)"><span style="color:rgb(0, 0, 0)">With the creative, fun, writing part of my journey had been conquered to my satisfaction, a bigger task confronted me: dealing (and fighting) with a professional editor. Oh, the editing and re-editing! Oh, the criticisms and critiques; the disagreements and misunderstandings!&nbsp;</span></span><br /><br /><span style="color:rgb(63, 63, 63)"><span style="color:rgb(0, 0, 0)">One might surmise that that fourteen-month ordeal represented the most difficult part of producing a book. Pause. Breathe&hellip;</span></span><br /><br /><span style="color:rgb(63, 63, 63)"><span style="color:rgb(0, 0, 0)">Actually, no. My fragile little memoir still had to weather the storms of confusing and frustrating DESIGN decisions. Disparate opinions were borderline abusive. Consensus was elusive on everything: the front and back covers; the typeface; the paper color and weight; the margins; the spine; the photographs; the dingbats.&nbsp;</span></span><br /><br /><span style="color:rgb(63, 63, 63)"><span style="color:rgb(0, 0, 0)">What, pray tell, is a &ldquo;dingbat&rdquo;? Isn&rsquo;t that how Archie Bunker referred to his wife?</span><span style="color:rgb(0, 0, 0)">&nbsp;</span></span><br /><br /><span style="color:rgb(63, 63, 63)"><span style="color:rgb(0, 0, 0)">Frustrating squabbles and intractable opinions about design and marketing concepts stalled the desired progress. The entire production year was full of difficult discussions, major and minor misunderstandings. Far too many hurtful remarks knifed through cyberspace. Senseless arguments among my hand-picked team of valued supporters and creative professionals made my head spin. Tragically, it redounded to the loss of a treasured friendship. Deeply painful. And maybe, in the end, that was the most difficult part of it all&hellip;<br />&#8203;</span></span><br /><span style="color:rgb(63, 63, 63)"><span style="color:rgb(0, 0, 0)">So, to reiterate: May is a particularly friendly and promising month. And who doesn&rsquo;t love June!</span></span></div>]]></content:encoded></item><item><title><![CDATA[THE SPARKLE CHRONICLES]]></title><link><![CDATA[https://www.lindadurham.us/wonder--wander/the-sparkle-chronicles]]></link><comments><![CDATA[https://www.lindadurham.us/wonder--wander/the-sparkle-chronicles#comments]]></comments><pubDate>Tue, 01 Jun 2021 08:00:00 GMT</pubDate><category><![CDATA[The Sparkle Chronicles]]></category><guid isPermaLink="false">https://www.lindadurham.us/wonder--wander/the-sparkle-chronicles</guid><description><![CDATA[                Hey, Sparkle, remember when we shared that apartment in Greenwich Village, back in the early 60s? And remember how we used to buy a &ldquo;dime bag&rdquo; of marijuana from Shawn Phillips but it was really a nickel bag because Shawn, the cute and talented twelve-string guitarist, always kept half for himself?And remember the afternoon we hung out with Shawn and his famous friend Barry McGuire at the Hotel Earle, near Washington Square and smoked pot and Barry surprised us one aft [...] ]]></description><content:encoded><![CDATA[<div><div class="wsite-image wsite-image-border-none " style="padding-top:10px;padding-bottom:10px;margin-left:0;margin-right:0;text-align:center"> <a> <img src="https://www.lindadurham.us/uploads/1/3/4/9/134907317/sparkle-chronicles_orig.png" alt="Picture" style="width:auto;max-width:100%" /> </a> <div style="display:block;font-size:90%"></div> </div></div>  <div><div class="wsite-image wsite-image-border-none " style="padding-top:10px;padding-bottom:10px;margin-left:0;margin-right:0;text-align:center"> <a> <img src="https://www.lindadurham.us/uploads/1/3/4/9/134907317/sparkle-chronicles-universe_orig.png" alt="Picture" style="width:auto;max-width:100%" /> </a> <div style="display:block;font-size:90%"></div> </div></div>  <div class="wsite-spacer" style="height:23px;"></div>  <div class="paragraph"><span style="color:rgb(63, 63, 63)">Hey, Sparkle, remember when we shared that apartment in Greenwich Village, back in the early 60s? And remember how we used to buy a &ldquo;dime bag&rdquo; of marijuana from Shawn Phillips but it was really a nickel bag because Shawn, the cute and talented twelve-string guitarist, always kept half for himself?</span><br /><br /><span style="color:rgb(63, 63, 63)">And remember the afternoon we hung out with Shawn and his famous friend Barry McGuire at the Hotel Earle, near Washington Square and smoked pot and Barry surprised us one afternoon (or was it night?) by snapping amyl nitrate capsules under our noses?</span><br /><br /><span style="color:rgb(63, 63, 63)">For the first time? Remember?</span><br /><br /><span style="color:rgb(63, 63, 63)">Days later (I&rsquo;ll never forget) you and I went to the pharmacy on Sixth Avenue and bought tampons and then pretended like, &ldquo;Ooops! we almost forgot--your grandmother asked us to buy something for her heart palpitations!&rdquo;</span><br /><br /><span style="color:rgb(63, 63, 63)">&ldquo;What was it? Amyal? Ameryl? Nite something, nite, nitrous? Oh, yeah, amyl nitrate! Yeah.&rdquo;</span><br /><span style="color:rgb(63, 63, 63)">And the pharmacist sold us a whole tin of it. For your non-existent grandmother. And we popped one ampule while we were walking back to our apartment and started laughing uncontrollably and fell down on the sidewalk. That was hysterical! Remember? Remember all of that?&nbsp; Did we--for even a minute--stop to think how stupid it was?&nbsp;</span><em style="color:rgb(63, 63, 63)">No<strong>,&nbsp;</strong>we did not<strong>.</strong></em><span style="color:rgb(63, 63, 63)">&nbsp;Was it dangerous?&nbsp;</span><em style="color:rgb(63, 63, 63)">Yes, extremely dangerous<strong>.</strong>&nbsp;</em><span style="color:rgb(63, 63, 63)">Did we care?</span><br /><br /><em style="color:rgb(63, 63, 63)">We didn&rsquo;t.</em><br /><br /><span style="color:rgb(63, 63, 63)">Oh, and remember when we used to go uptown to buy cocaine from Ray, the impeccably dressed, exceedingly classy, and mysterious black pimp who had a brace of white Afghan hounds? And remember how we joked that he didn&rsquo;t know how to pronounce his own last name? Prochez? Pershay? Pacher? Preshee? Did we think we were invincible?&nbsp;</span><em style="color:rgb(63, 63, 63)">We did</em><span style="color:rgb(63, 63, 63)">. Were we? It seems that we were back then, way back then.</span><br /><br /><span style="color:rgb(63, 63, 63)">When did the invincibility charm of wild youth wear off, Sparkle? When did the magic protection spell expire? When did the charm of stardom turn into the sudden and jarring alarm of has-been-ism? Is this pain and discomfort felt by two perpetual wannabes better or worse than the pain of becoming a &ldquo;has been&rdquo;? And is that more or less painful than living life as a &ldquo;never was&rdquo;? We weren&rsquo;t &ldquo;neverwases&rdquo; were we?</span><br /></div>  <div><div class="wsite-multicol"><div class="wsite-multicol-table-wrap" style="margin:0 -15px;"> 	<table class="wsite-multicol-table"> 		<tbody class="wsite-multicol-tbody"> 			<tr class="wsite-multicol-tr"> 				<td class="wsite-multicol-col" style="width:50%; padding:0 15px;"> 					 						  <div class="paragraph"><span style="color:rgb(63, 63, 63)">If there had been a contest, Sparkle, to crown the most beautiful Playboy Bunny of our day, you would have won, Bunny Cheryl. You would have beat out Lauren Hutton, Debby Harry, Kathryn Lee Scott, and all the other remarkable young and ambitious women who quit Playboy and went in search of fame and fortune. Some girls had clear goals. And support.&nbsp;</span><em style="color:rgb(63, 63, 63)">&ldquo;This little Bunny went to market; this little Bunny stayed home; beef, no beef; all the way&hellip;&rdquo;</em></div>   					 				</td>				<td class="wsite-multicol-col" style="width:50%; padding:0 15px;"> 					 						  <div><div class="wsite-image wsite-image-border-none " style="padding-top:10px;padding-bottom:10px;margin-left:0;margin-right:0;text-align:center"> <a> <img src="https://www.lindadurham.us/uploads/1/3/4/9/134907317/sparkle-chronicles-universe-pic_orig.png" alt="Picture" style="width:auto;max-width:100%" /> </a> <div style="display:block;font-size:90%"></div> </div></div>   					 				</td>			</tr> 		</tbody> 	</table> </div></div></div>]]></content:encoded></item><item><title><![CDATA[Author Event at Santa Fe Public Library]]></title><link><![CDATA[https://www.lindadurham.us/wonder--wander/author-event-at-santa-fe-public-library]]></link><comments><![CDATA[https://www.lindadurham.us/wonder--wander/author-event-at-santa-fe-public-library#comments]]></comments><pubDate>Tue, 25 May 2021 07:00:00 GMT</pubDate><category><![CDATA[Presentations]]></category><category><![CDATA[Press]]></category><guid isPermaLink="false">https://www.lindadurham.us/wonder--wander/author-event-at-santa-fe-public-library</guid><description><![CDATA[Linda Durham discusses her memoir in an online author event with the Santa Fe Public Library        [...] ]]></description><content:encoded><![CDATA[<div class="paragraph"><em>Linda Durham discusses her memoir in an online author event with the Santa Fe Public Library</em></div>  <div class="wsite-youtube" style="margin-bottom:10px;margin-top:10px;"><div class="wsite-youtube-wrapper wsite-youtube-size-auto wsite-youtube-align-center"> <div class="wsite-youtube-container">  <iframe src="//www.youtube.com/embed/6PQH4uuhAzg?wmode=opaque" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen></iframe> </div> </div></div>]]></content:encoded></item></channel></rss>