Imagine

 

 

Imagine we are sitting in front of a fireplace. I pour the coffee, would you rather have tea, or a mulled wine, that is warm too? The fire is quietly burning, snapping occasionally, I guess those logs had a bit of water in them.

We settle down with our drinks, prop our feet up, and I explain that I have aired complaints on my blog for the last couple of years; now it's your turn.

So, tell me, is anything bothering you?

I used to have a close friend who would visit for a few days, and we would sit up at night talking. First, we had to get all the frustrations, irritations, and junk, out of our heads, and then about 3 in the morning we would get down to serious, insightful conversation.

It was like a writer's morning pages—write the junk out so the good stuff can come in

Steven Pressfield advises artists to "Sweep your floor, so the Muse doesn't soil her gown on the way in."

But here we are, you and me. 

If you don't want to tell me what's bothering you, that's okay. Write it down; I won't peek. Get personal, not just about world conditions.

(Ah, I have to tell you, a Robin just perched on a limb outside my window, and it's November 24, 2025. I thought winter was coming, and that robins are spring birds. He sat a minute, looked at me, and then flew on. Good luck on your journey, sweet bird.)

Having an interruption like that rather knocks those bothersome thoughts out of one's head, doesn't it? 

It did mine.

Lately, I've been reading and writing about "Get Happy." And I know the idea of "Let's just get happy" irks some people. I have a friend who says she is happy all the time, and she gets flak for it.

But I am investigating the possibility of "Let's Get Happy Now" using Joseph McClendon III's definition of happiness.:

"Happiness is a mental and emotional state of being where your internal focus is optimistic, and the body produces positive energy."

Now that's something I can get behind. It doesn't say, "Just decide to be happy."

It doesn't minimize hard times.

It doesn't say that we will live in eternal joy.

It doesn't say that being grateful will bring about happiness, although being thankful for the good in your life is a splendid idea. 

It doesn't say that your emotions of sadness, depression, grief, or anger ought not to be expressed; it says that "your internal focus is optimistic, and the body produces positive energy."

"Happiness," some say, "comes and goes." It's fun to be happy. But we aren't "ha ha" happy all the time. We laugh at a joke and it fills the happy coffer for a minute. We see a beautiful sunset, an ocean, a beach, or an exquisite alpine forest, and we are in awe. That's fun. We giggle with our children when we see them running in joyful enthusiasm. We love being in love—talk about endorphins. There are many avenues to happiness. But we don't live on the mountain top all the time; that might wear out our synapses, too. However, the idea of living in an optimistic, positive state sounds good to me.

I think when people say, "I just want to be happy," it means more like McClendon has described—being optimistic and allowing our body to produce positive energy.

Those individuals who have lived to be 100 or older, especially those who live in the "blue zones" of the world, probably have experienced sadness, grief, disappointment, anger, and resentment, but that is not where they live.

Generally, those centurions have a full life: they eat well, have social contact, a spiritual bent, and, as they mostly live in a village, they walk a lot.

Most of us don't live in villages anymore; we live in cities or on the farm or in residential areas where often neighbors never speak to each other. However, we can make an effort to create a healthier lifestyle. Joseph McClendon III, a neuropsychologist, says that when people come into his office and he asks them what they want, they usually have a grocery list of things they do not want. When he presses them by asking what they want, they go blank.

Here is an exercise McClendon suggests: Write down your most magnificent day as you see it in your mind's eye.

Or in our case, sitting here in front of the fireplace, we could share how we see our Magnificent Day with each other.

I would love to hear your take on this.

This has been a lovely visit, more on happiness later.

Thank you for joining me.

                        

P.S. I wrote this post for the newsletter I am trying to get going, but decided to also post it here so you will see what I am up to.

josnewsletter.com

Question

 One day, my niece asked me this question:

"Suppose a couple has driven their car out on one of those desolate roads in the middle of nowhere. They come to a four-way intersection and stop in the middle of the road.

What happens next?

Possibilities:

1.     They contemplate a moment and say, "This is an adventure, let's go that way. One points, and they laughingly go on their way.

2.     From out of the blue, another vehicle crashes into them.

3.     A devil appears and says he will give them their heart's desire (Maybe a recording contract), but in return, they must promise to give him their soul.

4.     They continue straight ahead in the direction they were going without much thought about it. They were only stopping for a breather.

5.     Can you think of another?

I'm thinking this is a road trip across the US, so there are many choices along the way.

If you are a writer, you might want angst like the crash. Or you might have been conditioned to expect the worst.

 You might be a person who thinks they must pay or suffer to get what they want.

You might be a person who takes a chance, or one who doesn't.

You might be part of a couple that gives in without expressing your opinion. Or you might be a couple who will argue endlessly and never come to an agreement. One person might give in to the other, then fume for the next 50 miles.

All this came up for me from this picture from an old blog, November 27, 2023

This picture struck me. It's of our yard, a Japanese maple, a fig tree, a St John's Wort. (The one with red berries.) Yet where did our eyes go? To that one little dead leaf up high in the fig tree. That's the way with people. We can't help it, we are built to find the broken, the moving, the different. It has survival value. 

It's the way our mind works.

"My mind is boggled." I wrote on that 2023 post. "I'm frustrated, disenchanted, disappointed, and when I tell my daughter of this, she says that others feel the same way.

"After all my grumbling, complaining, and ineptitude, I couldn't stand the News. And, as I like to keep a novel going most of the time, I was tired of trudging through pain, anguish, and grief to get to the happy ending. I was tired of movies that made me sad and publishers that want tension between lovers and angst in life because, without it, they have no story.

"I remembered a time when we were proud to be Americans, and when GI Joe was a good guy."

That gripe is two years old. That night, divine guidance led me to Louise Hay's book You Can Heal Your Life.

 She speaks of Affirmations. Well, Affirmations and I have a long history. I remember getting assignments to write an affirmation 100 times before bed.

That was penance.

I understand that an affirmation is meant to drum a new thought into our heads. (You never change an old thought without replacing it with a new.) But what if you plant the seed and then leave it to grow? A seed has its own internal guidance system, and that is, given the right conditions, like soil, minerals, and water, it will sprout. Love can help. But do not dig it up to see if it sprouted. (As with repeatedly writing the affirmation which is saying you don't believe it will happen unless you drum it into The Source.)

Trust that the seed will grow.

Think of affirmations this way: Every thought is an affirmation. (I know we have unwanted thoughts; don't beat yourself up. Be kind to yourself. We have a screwy brain. Yep, there are dead leaves, for heaven's sake climb up there and pluck them out, or wait, they will fall.

And remember, every moment is new. If we choose to believe we are helpless victims and that all is hopeless, the Universe will support that belief.

Every cell in our body responds to every single thought we think and every word we speak. Continuous modes of thinking and speaking produce body behaviors, postures, and ease or dis-ease.

Last week, I suggested that we get happy. And I was using Joseph McClendon III's definition of happiness:

"Happiness is a mental and emotional state of being where your internal focus is optimistic and the body produces positive energy."

It doesn't address Ha ha happy. It doesn't say  "Just think happy thoughts." It doesn't say that sometimes we need friction to get us motivated and off our butts. (or buts.)

Neither does it ignore that we read, hear, or see dire things. And we also see beautiful things. It means having the mental and physical capacity to carry us through.

To quote McClendon:

"Inside you is a warrior ready to conquer the world.

"You were wired for happiness, adventure, and abundance. Those attributes were embedded into your soul from birth. You didn't enter the world with a whimper. You entered it bold and defiant!"

Now sit up straight, hold your head up, look straight ahead, and put a big, stupid grin on your face.

Do you feel better? 

 P.S.

Do you have any suggestions for josnewsletter.com/

It is a babe in the woods barely digging its way out of its den, oh no, and with winter coming, well maybe we can snuggle in someplace else. Even Timberline Lodge at the base of Mt Hood in Oregon, has a gorgeous huge roaring fireplace.

 

 

 

Dear Folks,

Monday and Tuesday flew past, and Tuesday is my post day, but family matters took precedence—as they should. So, I'm late.

Yesterday morning, I found my oracle of the day at the Peace Health Hospital in Springfield, Oregon:

"You never drive out hatred with hatred. Only love can do that."

--Martin Luther King Jr.

I needed that.

Last night, as my daughter and I were driving from Interstate 84 to I-5 across Burnside Bridge, we descended into the sparkling City of Portland, Oregon, where everything had been cleansed by spring rain. The lights glistened from the skyscrapers and shone on the water of the Willamette River as though a Fairy Godmother's wand had sprinkled diamonds instead of fairy dust.

It was hard to keep my eyes on the road, for everything was sparkling around me and I wanted to take it all in, the lighted bridges, the tram over the freeway…

I giggled as I drove, thinking that Portlanders have a sense of humor. Hey, when people can protest while riding their bikes naked, they have my applause. A naked bike rider doesn't seem to be much of a threat.

One day, I was driving in Portland near Washington Park when a man ran out of the forest wearing a pink tutu. I did a double-take until I saw that an entire stream of pink tutus covering the behinds of running males and females. They were joining a Gay Parade.  

Now, some folks might be offended or shocked by such a display, but think of it, how innocuous is a pink tutu, and the people were having fun and peacefully expressing themselves.

Now that is cool

On the weekend, I began editing a story I had written some time ago, changed the beginning three or four times, put in an entire chapter on Saturday, took it out on Sunday—well, what can I say, that's part of the process.

Last week I focused on another website, titled Jo's Newsletter. Can you believe I got Jo's Newsletter as a domain? I was sure that name would be taken, but it's mine. On that site, I offer up a ridiculously absurd idea…" Let's get happy." josnewsletter.com/

I wanted to complete the website so I could offer it to you as a challenge to live your best life, for much is accomplished with a glad heart. It's tricky, like licking honey off a thorn, but we can do it.

You know from reading this blog that I haven't been glad most of the time. I've been angry, afraid, and despondent. But then chuckles came from some kind soul via an email.  

She had gotten it from someone I don't know, but the message was, "You bought the wrong plane ticket. You thought you bought a ticket to the Bahamas, or to Nivana, and instead you landed in a place where there are bullies, wars, and unrest.

We are here to clean up the mess and to get a renewed mindset. Know that you have a beautiful life, that you have the spark of the divine in you, and that your job is to make yourself happy.

In Jos Newsletter, I give Joseph McClendon III's definition of happiness, and some of his reasons why it is essential.

Give josnewsletter.com a look-see. Then spread the word.  

I love you guys,

P. S. Another mess just splattered upon my screen. Now my computer screen looks like the circular window we had when we lived in Eugene, Oregon. A little bird could see his reflection in the glass, and he was attacked that strange bird in the window, each time he hit it he would poop a little, thus our window became a mess. 

The Present administration is going after our endangered animals! Laugh that man in the White House out of office! This is ridiculous!! Is nothing sacred? And it's gone on too long.

My solution is for every American  to sue T for mental cruelty. We would be richer, he would be poorer, and he would be forced to leave the Presidency. Maybe that way we could have some peace.

josnewsletter.com 

I'm all Over the Place

 

How about a Newsletter today?

Keep reading or scrolling to the bottom of the page where there is Happy Talk. 

 

I'm all over the place.

 Isn't that what a newsletter is about, many subjects? So, where shall we start?

Rants get more readers —mainly Political rants —so let's begin there and get it out of my system, although that is unlikely.

I see our administration turning back the clock. Yeah, and we're going to eliminate Autism.

One observation is that proponents of the Present Administration go blithely through their days as if the world isn't falling apart around them. Is it because they are on the winning team, or that they don't give a flying rat's ass about things like military action in cities that they clearly do not need, tariffs that are affecting Americans, and goodwill abroad, and, for crying out loud, making an enemy of Canada? I love Canada.

You know, I could go on and on, and then if you try to have a conversation with those on the other side, they say, "You've been lied to." "It's heresy." Yeah, like, are you getting the truth?

Promises of wars ending—didn't happen. Promises of lower prices, yeah —Walmart is selling a boxed turkey dinner cheaper this year than last. BECAUSE THERE IS LESS FOOD IN IT. The previous year it had 25 items. This year 15. Last year, they used name brands. This year, cheaper generic brands.

It hasn't been a happy time.

(I'm reading a book by Joseph McClendon III, Get Happy Now. I will tell you about it later.

In 1978, Comedian George Carlin predicted that these times would come. Well, they can't fire him now, he has joined the Political Commentators and Comedians in Heaven.

Carlin:

"They keep us fighting each other so 'they' can keep going to the bank."

Carlin predicted that we would elect the "dumbest guy in America and use him as a sales tool." Commentators have suggested that for Carlin, T would be less of a villain and more of a symptom of a larger disease—one that involves the manipulation of the public, the consolidation of power among the elite, and a political system that gives people the illusion of choice while keeping real change out of reach."

 

(How much is enough? Is the mentality of "The one with the most toys wins?" Yeah, but they are going to pass on to the next reality just like the rest of us; however, I don't think our present administration knows that.)

 

  

TODAY

"Nature is to be found in her entirety nowhere more than in her smallest creatures."

—Pliny the Elder

I came across this quote online this morning, and I thought back to college days when I first heard of Pliny the Elder. Born in 23 AD—when Jesus was 23 years old?

Isn't it amazing how we categorize time and humans, and yet, no matter how primitive we think they are, a brilliant individual will arise from barbarism and advance the human race? Pliny the Elder was a Roman author, naturalist, scientist, naval and army commander of the early Roman Empire. He wrote the book, "Natural History."

And then came Jesus, and we began to think of Romans as barbaric savages, gladiators, with a blood thirsty populace. Yet, Pliny sent his ship into the toxic fumes of an exploding volcano on a rescue mission with the cry: "Fortune favors the bold."

He died from the eruption of Mount Vesuvius in 79 AD after a friend summoned him about being trapped in a stable during the eruption of the volcano. Pliny was not a healthy man, and he succumbed to the toxic fumes.

Pliny the Elder was instrumental in educating his nephew Pliny the Younger, and it is rumored that he adopted him after his father died. We know the Elder left his estate to the Younger.  Pliny the Younger observed the eruption of Mount Vesuvius from afar and described it in great detail, so much so that modern-day volcanologists have studied his account to gain a greater understanding of volcanic eruptions. They call it "Plinian Eruptions."

Pliny the Younger became a lawyer, author, and magistrate, and helped promote the twice-voting method for Prisoners. One vote decides the accuser's guilt or innocence. The SECOND, what the punishment should be.

Pliny the Younger favored exile.

 

A Little White 'Whine' on the days to come:

Before my birthday in February, I need to squeeze in 30 hours of Real Estate continuing education to keep my license. Although I am not a practicing Real Estate Agent, it was work and expense to get that license, so I ought to keep it. There must be some place for me somewhere there. (Hey, I like people and houses. I came upon some surprises for loans at one time, maybe I should write about them, like how to bridge that time between finding your dream house and selling your present home, or when relocating.) However, my daughter's Brokerage, where I am associated, is not advertised, so people don't know we are here. I became disgruntled with the prices of homes and how hard it is for the middle class to purchase one. I do not belong to the MLS at present, so if you want to buy a house from me, you need to be really serious, as I would need to join all the required agencies to write up an offer. 

 

AI

AI keeps wanting to write for me, but I refuse their offer. Why in the world have writers worked so hard, trying to perfect their skills, trying to get the nuances, the descriptions, the dialogue, the voice, the sound of the rain, the wind in the firs, the sunshine glistening off that one water droplet that is hanging from the Maple tree, to have AI write for us!!!!!

Would you be more apt to read the illustrious writing of AI or the crummy human-driven effort of a human being who is scribbling on a pad of paper?  There is evidence of a beneficial connection between the hand and the brain when writing by hand. 

What can I say?! Are they trying to Make People Stupid Again?

Happy times are below:

 

From Peaches the Pink Party Poodle for Peace.

dogblogbypeaches.blogspot.com/

"My momma says that everybody and their dog blogs. I wasn't writing a single solitary thing, but I'm correcting that right now. When momma got me, she named me The Pink Party Poodle for Peace, now I guess I'm The Pink Party Poodle for Peace Pontificating. My point of view of the day is to tell you that the purpose of life is to have fun, hee, hee, and chase lizards. I love to chase lizards—never catch them though, they taste like rotten toes."

Last post

Dear Momma,

Readers are coming to my page. I am happy, happy. (Still chase lizards.) Time means nothing here. I haven't  posted for four years--your time. Four seconds in my time.

Bear runs like a pup, swims like one too. oh wait, some puppies don't like water, but Bear is a Newfoundland--he looovvveees water.

I see Zeke. Up here we are looking out for him.  Zeke is gift from heaven. RV company paid for his surgery so sister would find him and adopt him. 

I did good huh?

 Zeke at Shelter shortly after surgery to remove right front leg. 

 

Magnificent Zeke at forever home in back yard.

 

 

 Zeke running with toy in mouth, one leg on the ground, two in the air. Zeke, happy dog. 

 

 Bear on the "Green Trail of Bliss, Hawaii.

 

Instagram: Ezekiel's Blessings

Zeke, our three-legged dog, daughter Dear's Instagram.

https://www.instagram.com/ezekielsblessings/

 

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It Boggles the Brain

Well, well, my family had direct experience with the newly applied tariffs.

My grandson was given a FREE T-shirt from a Holland-based company. Because of the tariffs, it cost him 20 bucks to get that T-shirt into this country, plus 7 dollars for some fee to expedite it, so the Free T-shirt cost him $27.00.

I post whatever comes to mind. One day, I might rant about Political Conditions, the next, something motivational. And I am always happy to throw something spiritual into the mix. If anything preachy slips in I deserve a thump on the side of the head.

Internet advice tells me that I ought to have a recognizable brand and stick with it. My blog Wish on White Horses ought to be one. Travel through your life, do your thing, sell, buy, write, rant, complain, do your work, be inspired, be lazy, and then stop when you see a white horse, take a breather, and make a wish.

It will clear the brain.

The white horse Maximus from the Disney Movie Tangled.

I appreciate GaryVee (Gary Vaynerchuk), a motivator and entrepreneur on Instagram, who says to post whatever floats your boat. Actually, he didn't use those words, but he did say to post random stuff. Post and keep posting. What are you interested in? He believes even a Smurf blog will take hold after a year or so.

I have basically followed his advice before hearing of it, for I write of many things, but don't wait for a white horse to give you permission to wish, to dream, but whenever you see one, take advantage of it. Take a drive in the country, where it opens up your possibilities of seeing one. Although after my Train/Trane experience, where I told my daughter while we were sitting in a Mexican Restaurant, that we couldn't manifest a train here, for there were no tracks, a truck with TRANE written in giant letters on its semi-trailer tarp stopped at a traffic light right outside our window, I wouldn't say that anything is impossible.

You might see a white horse in the middle of town, but it might not be as you expected. It might be on a T-shirt or a billboard.

Watch for the magic.

I appreciate all the people who have found this blog, and I am interested in what bloats your boat, so tell me about it. And tell me if you see a white horse this week, that would be a kick.

I'm interested in Horses, Houses, how-to books, People, Animals, the Planet, Inspirational stuff, what's happening at home, and what's happening out there in the world today. I attempted to sell a little book because I wanted to write a series; however, I made a grand total of 42 cents from it on Amazon. And after offering a free ending from the excerpt I posted, nobody asked for it.

If you have thin skin, don't be a writer.

I could say that I'm a crummy writer, but I don't want to put that in my consciousness, and I'm the one who decided I wanted to be a writer in the first place. A writer writes. Period.

I feel that my days, months, and years are limited, and why in the heck am I here except to make my voice heard?  

I have grown increasingly impatient with sites that go blithely on rattling about mundane things. I fear I'm getting crotchety. These are critical times, with important issues. And letting AI do the work for you is just plain lazy. For crying out loud, AI writes entire books for people, makes their Table of Contents, and their cover. Are those better books? And why in (I'm trying to find an appropriate word) do we all have a creative spark if not to use it?

I have a poster that says:

"Darling, a beautiful thing is never perfect."

—It has no byline.

Recently, I read about a Snowshoe rabbit. A naturalist took a couple of friends into the forest, told them there was something in the bushes, and asked them to wait. Soon they saw a white Snowshoe rabbit, a rarity in those parts. When the rabbit saw them, he stood stock still. It was winter. He was white. He expected to be camouflaged by snow, but there was none. He was standing exposed on brown ground, expecting his camouflage to save him—a sitting duck for hawks.

The winters are shorter than in the past, but the rabbit still has his instincts, which evolved over a millennia when he lived in a white winter, and he learned to stand still and think he would not be seen.

How can we not speak up?

Look at the Snowshoe hind leg on this little fellow.