My Life in Words
All my troubles seemed so far away
Now it looks as though they’re here to stay...”
Have you ever had one of those days—like mine today where you have been rejuvenated from the day before, you're anxious to get home and to work and what happens? Your brain freezes up. And its 88 degrees in this room with the door open.
And you’re depressed.
Yesterday I read that I ought to write an “About Me” page. Maybe that scared me, or it could be that I’m experiencing a let-down from a three-day vacation.
We rented a cabin in the woods—out where the big trees live.
Have you ever sat or walked among the old-growth forest? There is a serenity there like no other. Some say it’s the silica present in the trees that causes such a feeling. Since the grandfather and grandmother Douglas Firs have had years to pull silica into their systems, they offer calmness, like a room full of crystals. Do crystals affect human systems? I don’t know.
It could be that we forest dwellers were experiencing the benefit of all that carbon dioxide the trees were transpiring. Whatever the scientific explanation is, I prefer to think that their serenity is contagious.
Friends joined us at the cabin, along with daughter and grandson, so all of us soaked up the grandeur that is the forest.
I had been wondering if I could live in the tropics. I can. I did, but I thought as the cool of the evening settled in—you know that time when the earth calms her hectic day and prepares for nightfall. Even the people calm, and the earth is quieter, and dusk comes tip-toeing in like baby kittens following their mother.
When I had a horse, that was my favorite time to take a trail ride. Now it’s still my favorite time, (We had no baby kittens in danger of horse’s feet.)
Today I was moaning the lack of comments from my blog. I’m embarrassed to mention it, but there for a while, I was getting about 100 a day, and then silence. Guess they didn’t like what I was writing. I didn’t expect people to gravitate to a couple of blogs, but when silence dropped, I felt that my playmates had all gone home and taken their toys. (That was https://travelswithjo.com)
I’m discouraged with my blogging and wondering if my book is selling. I have no numbers, so don’t tell me unless it’s good.
The day ten years ago as I stood in the horse paddock and asked my poignant question, “Where would I be happy?” and the idea of Hawaii popped up, I decided to write of it. Of course, I didn't know, as the case of all adventures, how it would turn out. Two years ago, Regal Publishing Company and delightful Jaynie Royal decided to take a chance on me, and The Frog’s Song was born
The book was released this past June—cast of eight, including two dogs and two cats.
I’m telling myself to follow what Andy Warhol said, “Make art, and let the world decide if they like it or not, in the meantime, make more art.”
So, this is my “About Me” page. Tomorrow it will be a different story.
I wrote this long-hand for I have heard that there is a stronger bond between hand and brain in cursive opposed to typing. And I figured that perhaps I would get to the bottom of my melancholy.
Outside helped, the plants helped, seeing happy chickens helped, for I went outside and pulled some weeds and set the sprinkler, and freed the chickens from their pen for some good picking and scratching and dust bathing before I sat down to write this.
At the end of yesterday, the end of our vacation, hubby dear and I went to the theater to see "Yesterday."
What would you do if you were a struggling musician, and the world took a blip, leaving only you to remember the Beatles music?
And how was your day?
With love from
Sweet, Yesterday sung by the young Paul McCartney
We’re all skeptics until we aren’t.
Nobody sees the world as you do. Nobody senses what you sense or perceives ideas such as yours. Nobody loves exactly as you love, or expresses themselves exactly as you express. Yet we have similarities.
We all wonder what happens after this life.
I remember a biology professor saying that the grass doesn’t fear its demise as the cow is grazing down on it. But then, we’re found that plants respond to emotions. And regarding the grass, it was getting mowed, not killed, and it feels good to have one’s hair cut. It could be that dear professor didn’t have enough data.
And we have found that animals have more feelings and emotions that thought in the past when people viewed them as “dumb,” beasts. Once as I was driving down a road with my Rottweiler dog looking out the window, he spotted a dead dog lying beside the road. He did a double take and looked at me with such beseeching eyes, I said, “Yes, it’s sad isn’t it, Gabe.”
We’ve been collecting data since we were born—actually before. We hear, we taste, we feel, we watch, we listen, we collect information, including bias, prejudices, and superstitions.
Richard Martini, a documentary film maker, was a skeptic regarding after death experiences until he began to film hypnotic sessions performed by Dr. Michael Newton who looked at 7,000 life after death cases over 30 years.
The fascinating thing he found was that there was a life between lives.
There was a period after death where the individual paused a bit, reflected on the life just lived and hung out with their “tribe,” a group of souls that know and care about each other, and seem to travel in the same circles over many lifetimes.
During this time between lives, there was no judgement, simply a reflection on what had happened and what was to come. The newly departed could decide whether they wanted to go for another lifetime, and what that might be.
One might say, “I wouldn’t choose to live this way, and what about people starving and living in dire circumstances?
Beats me. I’m only the messenger, but some say it’s for their soul’s growth. Or maybe they didn’t choose, they just got sucked in.
But wouldn’t it be great to think that we had a choice, and it appears that religion had nothing to do with this in-between-lives event—except maybe who you meet, and who you want to visit.
I’m not wearing a pyramid hat, or walking up to you saying I see your aura, I’m passing on information I find fascinating.
To view Richard Martini’s fantastic interview To Be or Not To Be, go to
Live long and prosper, and many Happy Returns.
(Don’t believe in reincarnation—that's okay.)
Is this heaven or what?
Hey You all,
How about a little help from my friends.
I must sell 200 copies of my book or they will drop me like a S'More too long on the fire.
I’m setting a goal of 200 for one month. That will be June 23.
Find the cheapest book The Frog's Song available, Kindle, physical copy. I don’t care for I’m more interested in book sale numbers than money.
Make sure you get the correct Frog Book, there is one that sells for $135.00.
The Frog's Song by Joyce Davis
I know new books are damn expensive these days, can’t help it, it’s the nature of the printing process.
However, look at it this way:
The Frog’s Song is worth every penny.
It took ten years to hit the shelves!
Ha ha, I love you guys whether you buy or not. People who stop here are the greatest.
'Joyce's travels have taken her beyond the shores of her native continent, but she's back where she started, in Oregon.