Betsy Horvath

Category: The Quest

  • Moving Forward

    Author’s Note – I debated whether or not to write a blog post this week. The events swirling around all of us, combined with a very sad loss for me personally, seemed so much more important than anything I could possibly have to say. But then I realized that was exactly what I had done in 2020. I held off on my creative journey and kept waiting for a good time to move forward again. Except there never was a good time. Something always—always—happened. The result was a creative paralysis that I’m still trying to break.

    So I decided that I had to keep moving regardless. Like a shark. Even if my little creative light is feeling kind of dim at the moment and all of us are dealing with much bigger things.

    And thus, a blog post was born.

    This post features Betsy, of course. Also present is Harry, who a White Rabbit and the Guide on Betsy’s Quest to become a successful independent author. Better still, The Muse, who needs no introduction, has decided to show up to offer some guidance. Thank heavens.

    Let’s see what’s going on…

     

     

    *Betsy is sitting in the field surrounding the deep lake at the center of her mind* *She has her knees pulled up to her chest and is staring out at the water in the lake* *It moves back and forth, back and forth* *An unexpected wave splashes up and Betsy ducks her head* *Water washes over her* *The wind gusts and the tall grass of the field whips violently* *Betsy raises her head to stare out at the lake again*

    *Harry hops up to crouch beside her*

    “What’s wrong?” he asks.

    “I’m sad,” Betsy tells him without looking away from the lake. “And I guess I feel lost. I don’t know which way to go. I can’t seem to move.”

    “I thought you were getting past that.”

    “So did I.” Betsy shrugs and puts her chin on her updrawn knees. “But then lots of things happened and it all got dark again. Maybe I should just sit here for a while.”

    “Huh.” Harry looks around. The field is brightly lit with a ray of sunshine, but all around them is utter blackness.  “Yeah, I see what you mean. It’s pretty dark out there. I can’t see anything either.”

    “I know,” Betsy whispers. “Everywhere I look. I mean, how can I move when I can’t see in front of me? How do I know which mountain I should head toward when I can’t even see that it’s there?” Betsy looks at Harry with tears in her eyes. “What do I do?”

    *Harry shakes his head and settles on the grass beside her*

    “Where do I go?” Betsy asks.

    *Harry shakes his head again*

    “And this is the challenge of trying to live creatively in the midst of difficult times,” the Muse says. She steps gracefully across the field and drops to sit cross-legged in front of Betsy.

    “Muse?” Betsy blinks at her. “You came back from Bimini?”

    The Muse shrugs her shoulder. “It seemed like a good idea.” She holds up a finger. “But listen to me. You keep jerking me around and I’m gone for good.”

    “Oh.”  Betsy rests her chin on her knees again. “I guess I’m screwed then.”

    “No.”  The Muse smiles, reaches over, and lifts Betsy’s chin. “All you have to do is move.”

    “How can I move? There’s so much going on, so much swirling around and around and around. Everyone is angry and upset and frightened. I can’t even see the mountains. How am I supposed to move?”

    “You move because you have to.” The Muse holds up a hand when Betsy starts to protest. “Listen, I know that it’s been a lot. Not just last week, or last month, or last year, but always. There is always a lot. I understand that things build, and if the darkness gets darker it can be hard to find your way. I get that right now you’ve gotten to a place where you can’t even see the mountains you’re aiming for. I know that you just want to sit still. But you have to move and press forward.”

    “Why?” Betsy droops.

    “Because, my treasure, that is life. More, it’s your life. If the darkness gets darker, you will feel more and more trapped until you won’t think you can find your way out of it at all.”

    “Is it too late?” Harry whispers.

    “No.” The Muse smiles. “There’s always time to make a decision and there’s always time to move. It just gets harder the longer you wait.”

    “What should I do?” Betsy asks.

    “Stand up.” Muse directs. Betsy, Harry, and the Muse all stand.

    “The thing is,” Muse says, “you’ve been letting yourself get pulled OUTward. But you have to go ONward instead.”

    “To the mountains.”

    “Yes.”

    “That I can’t see.”

    “Yes. It’s okay.  The most important thing is not really the destination, or even being able to see the destination. The most important thing is that you don’t stay still. That’s how statues and unhappy lives are made.”

    “I guess that’s what I’ve been doing, isn’t it?” Betsy asks. “I’ve been staying still. And then I was going to move, but a lot of stuff happened, so I didn’t.”

    “Yeah, you’ve been afraid to move anywhere because the world is so uncertain. But the world is always uncertain, and waiting for it to not be that way is pointless.  You have to move because that’s what creativity is all about.”

    “So when I stayed still—”

    The Muse gestures to the darkness around them. “The creative process goes dark. And the longer you wait, the darker it gets.”

    “Will I ever be able to see again?”

    “Sure. If you start walking, you’ll chip away at it every day.”

    “The world seems different now. What if I fall?”

    The Muse shrugs. “What if you don’t? Look, the truth is that we just don’t know what’s ahead. Look at 2020. Look at last week. We don’t know what’s coming. Not even me. The best we can do is try to expand, not contract. Life is about the journey, not the destination and all that jazz.”

    “I’ve heard that before.”

    “Some of my best work. Remember, you’re not making a journey if you don’t take a step.” The Muse looks at Harry. “And you, too. Just keep doing what you know you need to do.”

    Harry bows his head. “Yes, ma’am.”

    The Muse vanishes.

    Betsy looks at Harry. “Do you think she’ll come back again?”

    Harry shrugs. “Not if we stay here.”

    “Okay.” Betsy draws in a deep breath. Closes her eyes. Points. “Let’s head that way.”

     

    Remember, my friends – there’s a lot of crap happening in the world these days, but in our lives—and for our lives—it is important that we keep moving on our own personal journeys.

    To be continued…

     

     

  • The Quest Continues…

    Oh, my goodness, but hasn’t it been a while since we’ve checked in with the crew living in Betsy’s brain!  As you may, or may not, know/remember/care, these are the ones helping Betsy pursue her Quest to become a Successful Independent Author. Or perhaps they are just disembodied voices who speak to Betsy night and day, whispering suggestions for her to follow. Perhaps we should all be afraid.

    Very afraid.

    But no! Nay! These are good voices, mostly! Fear not! Instead, let us meet them again and become reacquainted.

    *Draws back a red velvet stage curtain with a flourish*

    First, we have Harry, who is Betsy’s Guide on her Quest. Harry was sent by the Muse Council to Guide her path. When he first arrived, he was but a lowly White Gerbil, but eventually he advanced to the state of the White Rabbit of Legend. He has dreams of attaining the mythical goal of White Stag. Of course, any progress he makes depends on Betsy, so he might be out of luck.

    Next, welcome Skipper the Chipmunk, who is a Habit Implementation Specialist. Her job is to help Betsy put new, healthy, habits in place to support her journey towards her goals. Skipper recently entered into therapy because of habits Betsy chose to implement during the Great Time of COVID, but she’s feeling much better now.

    And here is Coffee, the Beverage of Champions, who is perhaps the most fulfilled and happy of the helpers in Betsy’s world. He has continued his essential mission of providing caffeinated pleasure, and indeed he has excelled at it. Sometimes he has been far, far too much of a good thing.

    We have Clara, a dust bunny, who is Betsy’s Life Task Specialist. She works with Skipper, but is more focused on making sure the house stays clean. Clara is probably the least fulfilled and happy of the helpers on Team Betsy, because… cleaning? Really? Next you’re going to expect a shower.

    And finally we have The Muse, the Spirit of Creation who needs no introduction.

    So, there they are. Our cast of characters and that includes Betsy herself, of course. But it’s sad to say that things have been a little quiet amongst the synapses of Betsy’s brain over the past few weeks (months?) Are any helpers besides Coffee still there? Have they all jumped ship and gone off to torment the guys on Ghost Adventures? Have they poofed into nothingness? Are they fat-assing in front of the television eating chips and hoarding toilet paper?

    Has Harry reverted back to gerbilhood? Has Skipper collapsed under the strain? Has Coffee brewed? Has Clara joined her family under the bed? Has the Muse picked up her skirts and gotten out of town?

    And where the world is Betsy?

    Let’s see…

     

    *Harry is sitting in his office in Betsy’s brain, glumly studying the gerbil habitat he hasn’t had to use since he upgraded to White Rabbit status* *He looks behind him and sighs again when he sees a long, thin tail instead of a puffy white one* *He reaches up to measure his ears, then sighs when he realizes they are not as long as they were the day before*

    *The office door opens without a knock and Skipper comes marching in*

    “What is she doing? What the HECK is she doing?” Skipper waves the papers she is holding wildly. “She’s not sleeping enough. She’s not eating right. She’s gotten all involved in work that is not her life’s work. All of my good efforts are going to waste, and my therapist is NOT happy!”

    “She’s not cleaning her house,” says a snuffly voice from behind Skipper.

    “Hey, Clara,” Harry greets the dust bunny.

    “Have you felt the anxiety in this place?” Skipper demands. “Have you felt the worry? Her brain is a mess! There are all these voices in here yelling all the time and they aren’t even Betsy’s! We started out last year with such promise and it all went down the crapper! And now here we are at the beginning of a new year, and it’s not changing, and I’m telling you that I cannot work under these conditions!”

    “’Ello, my friends,” Coffee says as he strolls in.

    “Oh, God! French Roast?” Skipper tosses the papers she was holding around the office. “You’re only adding fuel to the fire!”

    “No, I’m pretty sure that’s me,” says the Internet as it saunters into the room.

    “You.” Skipper points a paw at the Internet. “You get out. You have no place here.”

    “Oh, I think you’re wrong about that. I’ve got me some cozy digs in this brain. I’ll get out when she makes me get out, But as long as she keeps scrolling, here I am and here I’ll stay.”

    “You’re the reason there are so many voices yelling in here! You brought in a mob!”

    The Internet shrugs. “I’m pretty sure Betsy did that. I’m just the, uh facilitator. Who am I to judge?”

    “That’s all you do is judge! And get angry!”

    The Internet shrugs again. “Pretty much, yeah. Not like I care. It’s a lot of fun.”

    “Fun!  Fun! Aargh!” Skipper twirls to face Harry.  “You’re the Guide, Harry. Aren’t you going to do something about this situation?”

    Harry pulls his tail around to the front and strokes his paw through the thin fur. “She doesn’t listen to me anymore. She listens to Internet.”

    “Damn straight!” crows the Internet.

    “And that’s it? You’re just going to give up?” Skipper demands.

    “The Muse left,” Harry says sadly. “She said something about Bimini. As long as Betsy chooses to listen outside of herself, there was no point in her staying.”

    “Oh.” Skipper swallows.

    Internet cackles.

    Clara snuffles.

    Coffee brews.

    “So, um, is that it then?” Skipper asks in a very small voice.

    “It sure is,” the Internet rubs its hands together in glee. “Clear out, boys and girls, there’s a new dog in town. The first thing I’m going to do is redecorate this dump. I think maybe a few riots will really jazz up the place.”

    Skipper pulls her whiskers.  “Harry?”

    Harry sighs sadly. “Without the Muse, and, most importantly, without Betsy herself, my paws are tied. As long as Betsy chooses to look outside, there’s not much I can do. She has to decide, she has to do the work, and she has to come back home. But so far… She’s not.” He shrugs woefully. “Skipper, I, um, I think I’ve… failed.”

    “No! Harry, no!” Skipper gasps.

    “Bwhahahahaha!” The Internet laughs loud and long. “I knew it!  I did it!  I knew that these last few months would be enough to push her over the edge. I knew that all I had to do was open that black hole a little wider and she’d fall in! She’s mine! Mine! MINE!! Bwhahahahahaha!”

    *Suddenly Harry’s office door slams open and Betsy comes striding in*

    “What? You?” The Internet gasps.

    “Yeah, that’s right. I’m back, bitches.”

    “No!” The Internet shakes its fists.

    “Yes! And you know what? That WIFI is totally turned off, so you can just get the heck out of here.”

    “My signal! My signal!” The Internet clutches its throat.

    Betsy waves her hand. “Go away now.”

    “This isn’t over!” rages Internet. “I’ll get you, my pretty, and your little dog, too! Help! I’m melting!”

    *Internet melts into the floor*

    “Yeah, well, I have cats, sucker, and they will cut you.”  Betsy stands with her hands on her hips as a breeze blows through her hair, which has not had a haircut for about a year (literally), so it is long and flowing. “Skipper, I need an action plan. Clara, get those dishes done. Coffee, start brewing. We’re going to need a full pot.” Betsy takes a step forward.  “Harry…”

    “Yes?” Harry asks, pulling himself straighter.

    “Let’s get that computer booted up and see about starting again.”

     

    There’s still a pandemic. There are still challenges. There are still fears and uncertainties. The Muse might really have gone to Bimini. But here’s to turning off the chatter and taking steps into the future. Happy New Year, everyone!

     

    To be continued…

     

     

     

  • Running Uphill

    Betsy is climbing the mountain of her aspirations, again, struggling to reach the summit.  Again.  Except this time, unlike in the past, she isn’t carrying just ONE boulder that is her work in progress, she is carrying TWO of them!  TWO works in progress!  What the heck!

    Both boulders are important in their own right.  Both need to reach the top of the mountain and be completed.  Boulder One is the book Betsy is currently writing.  Boulder Two is the book she just got back from her editor.  Boulder One needs to be shaped and created.  Boulder Two needs to be refined and polished so it can be published.

    Both of them need to be finished.  Both of them.  Both.  At the same time.

    Betsy is not exactly a wizard at multitasking when it comes to writing, so getting both of these works in progress to completion requires skills she is still developing.  That alone makes juggling them hard.  But the REAL problem, the problem causing the most trouble at the moment, is that Betsy also seems to be focused on the thought of her own, well, aging.  On the fact that time keeps on slipping, slipping, slipping into the future.  That things need to happen NOW, or they might never happen. 

    That she needs to hurry.

    Why, yes. Betsy is basically panicking.

    The Muse (Goddess of Creativity) and Harry the Rabbit (Guide on Betsy’s Quest to be a successful author) are watching her in some confusion.  They watch as Betsy tries to scrabble of the mountain of her aspirations, while at the same time juggling the work she needs to finish.  Will she make it?  Will she fall?  Will she turn into a hermit and forget to shower?

    Let’s see…

     

    Muse comes to stand beside Harry the Rabbit and puts her hands on her hips as she stares at the mountain.  “What the heck is she doing?”

    “Running?” Harry tilts head. “I think?”

    They watch Betsy for a moment.

    “Why in the world does she think she can run up that mountain and juggle two boulders at the same time?”  The Muse frowns.  “She doesn’t run in the best of times.  I don’t think she CAN run.”

    “I have no idea.”  Harry shrugs.  “Maybe she’s nuts?”

    “Even if by some miracle she doesn’t trip and fall flat on her face, she’s going to burn herself out.  This is a marathon, not a sprint.”

    “Well, I don’t know what to tell you,” Harry says, tugging his long white ears.  “You could just go ask her, you know.”

    Muse slowly turns to him.  Raises an eyebrow.

    Harry winces.  “Ma’am,” he adds hastily.

    The Muse sighs.  “Well, you’re right that I need to find out what’s going on before she gets herself in trouble.”

    “Thank you, ma’am.”  Harry’s bow is so deep his pocket watch falls out of his vest pocket.

    The Muse shakes her head and walks over to Betsy.

    “Have to get them done now!”  Betsy huffs. Holds the two boulders clutched to her chest like footballs, except they are bigger and heavier.  Tries to stagger a few more steps.  Tries to move a little bit faster.  “Now!” she pants.

    “Why are you running?” the Muse asks.

    “No time!  No time!  Too many plans!  Too many goals!  Have to do it now!  Have to do it while I can!  Too late!  Too old!”

    “Uh-huh.”  Muse walks beside Betsy, easily keeping pace even though Betsy is trying to run. 

    “I’m behind,” Betsy pants.  “So far behind.  Have to catch up.  Have to get going.  Not that much time!”

    “You’re wound up so tight I’m surprised you’re not bouncing like a spring,” the Muse tells her.

    “Yes!  Yes!”  Betsy’s eyes are wild.  “Bouncing!  Good!  Bouncing is good!  The wonderful thing about Tiggers!”  Betsy laughs maniacally.  Tries to bounce.  Fails.  Falls, dropping both boulders.  Staggers to her feet and picks up the boulders again.  “A few more feet!  Almost there!”

    “Yeah, I don’t think so.”  Muse waves her hand and suddenly Betsy is on the ground and the boulders she’d been holding are suspended above her.  “I’m thinking you’d better take a minute to breathe.”

    “Ow,” Betsy says, her face in the dirt.

    “It was only a matter of time before you fell,”  the Muse tells her unsympathetically.  “You’re juggling two things at once.  I know they both need to get done, so juggling them isn’t the problem.  But I don’t have a clue why you’re trying to run and rush? Why are you so panicked?”

    “There’s so much to do! And there’s not enough time!”  Betsy flips onto her back and flops around, trying to get up.  “Why are we wasting time talking? I have to go again!”

    “So let me get this straight.  You don’t think you have enough time, so you’re pushing and pushing and not stopping?”

    “Right!  Right! Go, go, go!! Must go!”

    “Uh-huh.”  Muse watches Betsy struggle for a moment.  “And what’s happened in the past when you’ve pushed too hard, hmmm? How’s that worked out for you?”

    Betsy stops flopping around and thinks.  “I crashed?” she suggests after a moment.

    “Riiiiight.”  Muse nods. “Crashed and burned, baby.” Mimics an airplane crashing with her hand. “Boom.”

    Betsy lays on her back and frowns.  Crosses her arms and glares up at the Muse.  “Not every time,” she argues.

    “Really?” Muse is skeptical.

    Betsy pouts. “Okay,” she mumbles. “Every time.”

    Muse sighs and helps Betsy get to her feet.  Dusts her off.  “Look I know you need to get these things done. I know you want to get them done as soon as you can. But maybe don’t panic okay? Maybe don’t make yourself crazy. Uh…crazier.”

    Betsy looks up at the boulders.  “But—”

    Muse puts her hands on Betsy’s shoulders.  Looks into Betsy’s eyes.  “You’re not too old and it’s not too late. Don’t worry. Keep moving. But be kind to yourself as well as your boulders, okay?”

    “Okay.”  Betsy grabs the boulders as they float into her arms.  “I guess I’d better go.”

    “Fine.”

    Muse watches as Betsy toddles off.  Not running, but still trying to move fast.

    “Do you think she’ll listen?” Harry asks as he hops up to her.

    “Some of her concerns are valid, so we’ll just have to make sure she doesn’t end up head first in a ditch.”  Muse taps her chin thoughtfully.  “And watch out for sugar.”

    Harry’s ears droop.  “Oh, boy.”

     

    To be continued…

     

     

  • Finding the Beginning

    When we last left Betsy, she was actually doing pretty okay.  Well, she was doing something anyway and that alone is a step in the right direction.  There was much rejoicing in the land.

    But Betsy would like this streak to continue, which means she not only has to finish what she’s currently working on, she has to figure out what to do next. She has to figure out where it starts and where it ends.  And once that gets going, she has to do it all over again for the next thing.  And the next.  And so forth.  And so on.

    This is not as easy as it sounds.

    Which is probably why we now find Betsy sitting amidst the long grass of the verdant meadow that lies on the shore of the lake in the center of her mind.  She is thinking deep thoughts as she figures out where she’s heading and how to get there and what to work on next and how to do it and where in the world she’s supposed to start.  She might, just possibly, maybe, feel like she’s flailing around a bit.

    Oh no!  This is never good!  What will Betsy do now?  Will she give up? Again?  Will she cut and run?  Again?  Will she rewrite the same project over and over and over instead of being brave enough to press into the uncomfortableness of something new?

    Let’s see…

     

    Betsy is sitting in the tall grass on the shore of the deep lake in the center of her mind.  After a moment of what passes for thought for Betsy, she stands and wades into the lake’s cool, still water.  She splashes around a bit.  Cups the water in her hands.  It dribbles through her fingers.  She splashes some more, which does nothing but make a few ripples.  She sighs.  Comes back onto the shore and settles down into the grass.

    What are you doing?

    Turning, Betsy sees the Muse has appeared to sit next to her in the grass.  The Muse draws her legs up under her long skirt and wraps her arms around her knees.

    “Well, I kind of need to write new things.”  Betsy gestures to the lake.  “I thought maybe if I went into the water, something would come up.  Or maybe I could catch something.  Or maybe I’d at least grab a clue.”

    “Ah.”  Muse nods. “Good idea.  The lake of inspiration is deep and there’s a lot of junk in there.  Especially since this is your mind we’re talking about.”

    Betsy frowns.  “Hey.”

    “Why don’t you let me see what I can find?”

    Muse gets up and strolls to the lake.  She walks into the water.  She keeps walking…and walking…and walking…. Soon she is under the water.  There are no ripples on the surface.  No air bubbles.  No disturbance at all.

    One minute passes.  Another.  Then, as Betsy watches, the Muse starts to emerge.  First, the top of her head comes into view, then her soft, round shoulders, then finally all of her as she walks back up on the shore.  She is holding something that looks very much like a tangled ball of yarn between her hands.  The Muse is wet, dripping, and the drops of water sparkle like a million fairy lights in the glow of the meadow.

    “Oh, geez!  You got all wet!”  Betsy cries when the Muse sits down beside her.  “That must be really uncomfortable.”

    “Are you kidding?  I love being soaked in inspiration.”  The Muse holds out the tangled, messy ball.  “Here you go.”

    Frowning, Betsy takes the mess from her and looks at it.  “Uh, thanks?”

    “I believe this is what you were looking for.”

    “Really?  It looks like it’s just a jumble of wet string.”

    “Take another look.  Don’t see what you expect to see.  See what’s actually there.”

    Obediently,  Betsy studies the tangle.  “Well, maybe…” She turns it around.  Examines it from every angle.  “I mean, I think I see what it’s supposed to be, but nothing is clear.”

    “Of course not.  It won’t be clear until you unravel it.”

    “Unravel it?  How am I supposed to do that?  All of these threads are tangled together and they’re wet and knotted.  I mean, I’ve already decided where I want to try to end up.”  She points towards a mountain in the distance.  “But I don’t know if unrolling this ball will lead me there.  Heck, I don’t even know if the string is long enough to GET there.”

    “If it’s not, then maybe that mountain’s not where you should go,” the Muse says.  She lounges back on her elbows in the grass, tossing back her soaked hair with a sigh.  “You might not take quite as long a trip as you think you will this time, or maybe you’ll go in a completely different direction.  You just have to unravel the string and find out.”

    “Oh, just that simple, huh?  Sheesh.”  Betsy frowns.  “Besides, it’s all tangled up.”

    “Then, I guess you’ll have to find the beginning of the mess and start pulling.  That’s the only way to get things moving.”

    “The beginning?”  Betsy chews her lip.  Examines the tangle.  “I guess…is this it?  Is it there..no.  How about…no.”  Rolls the mess around in her hands.  Looks at it from every angle.  “Where is the start?  Where did it go?  Why can’t I see it?”

    “Sometimes the beginning is more hidden than the end is,” the Muse says.  “After all, you often know where you want to end up, but you can’t always see the place where you’re starting from.  Just pick at the closest string and pull.  You don’t have to find the perfect starting point, not yet.  It’s more important that you start SOMEWHERE.”

    “Are you sure?”

    “Am I the Muse or not?”

    “Okay.”  Betsy chooses a thread and picks at it with her fingernail.  The yarn is very wet with inspiration, so it’s hard to get it loose.  But finally she manages to wiggle the thread free and the soggy mess unrolls for a bit before it stops.

    “There you go,” the Muse smiles.  “You’ve started.  And we’re off on an adventure again.”

     

    To be continued…

     

     

  • Optimistic Voices

    As it’s been a little while since we’ve had this conversation, this might be a good time to remind everyone (including Betsy) that she is on a Quest to become a Successful Independent Author.  She has made some strides in the right direction, but she definitely has a long way to go!  Fortunately, Betsy has a Guide on her Quest—a white rabbit, who used to be a white gerbil and is named Harry.

    Sadly, Betsy didn’t realize she had also named the hero in her latest novel (coming soon!) Harry until it was too late.  This is just a coincidence.  Please do not think that Betsy is harboring any romantic designs on Harry the Quest Guide.  She does, however, have romantic designs on Harry the Hero.  Perhaps she was caught up in the drama of the latest royal wedding / pregnancy / birth and just decided to name everyone Harry.  Perhaps she is simply crazy.

    Regardless, in addition to Harry the Guide, as he shall henceforth be known, there are more members on Team Betsy.  They include The Muse—an ethereal being and Goddess of Creativity, Skipper—a chipmunk and Good Habit Implementation Specialist (she has her work cut out for her), and Coffee—the Beverage of Champions.

    As Betsy has been in a bit of a battle lately (see previous blog post), she has been slogging it out in the Valley of Illusion and thus has not been spending much time with Team Betsy.  The Muse got through, mostly by shouting in Betsy’s ear.  It was painful.  But now that things finally seem to be moving in the right direction, Harry the Guide, Coordinator of Team Betsy, has decreed there shall be a meeting of the minds wherein A Plan For The Next Few Months Shall Be Decided.  Now Betsy is sitting in Harry the Guide’s office in her brain, waiting for the rest of the crew to show up.  But she is alone!  Where is everybody else?  What’s going on now?

    Let’s see…

     

    Betsy is sitting in Harry’s office.  She jiggles her leg impatiently.  Checks her Fitbit.  Gets up to pace.  Checks her task list on her phone.  Growls.

    “Where is everyone?!?”

    As she turns to pace to the other side of the office—which is just exactly as big as she wants it to be—the door opens and Harry the Guide walks in.  Actually he dances in, hopping on his big bunny back feet.  Behind him, paws on his shoulders, is Skipper, the Habit Implementation Specialist.  And bringing up the rear is Coffee, the Beverage of Champions.  They hop in, dancing in a conga line, kicking out their legs (yes, Coffee has legs—deal with it) side to side and singing…

    You’re out of the woods

    You’re out of the dark

    You’re out of the night

    Step into the sun,

    Step into the light….

    “What are you doing?”  Betsy demands.  “What is that noise?”

    “We’re singing!”  The three reply in unison. 

    “Yes!”  Skipper chips.

    Keep straight ahead

    For the most glorious place

    On the Face of the Earth

    Or the sky

    “Yes!”  Harry chirps…

    Hold onto your breath

    Hold onto your heart

    Hold onto your hope

    “Yes!”  Coffee burps…

    March up to the gate

    And bid it open!

    The three end the song with a flourish, arms and legs out in a “tah dah” gesture in the middle of the space.  (Yes, Coffee has arms, too.  Deal.)

    “I know that song. It’s from the Wizard of Oz,” Betsy informs them.  “Right after Dorothy and the rest get to the Emerald City and got drugged out of their minds in the poppies.”

    “It’s Optimistic!”  Harry tells her, swirling.

    “I think you’ve been smelling too many of those poppies.”  Betsy rubs her forehead (yes, Betsy has a forehead in her brain—deal).  

    Harry, Skipper, and Coffee ignore her and start to dance their conga line again.  A snap of their fingers and they are all wearing green sequins.

    You’re out of the woods

    You’re out of the dark

    You’re out of the night

    Step into the sun,

    step into the light….

    “Help,” Betsy whimpers.

    “Let them dance.  They’re happy.”

    “Muse!”  Betsy turns to find the Muse has come to stand beside her.  Betsy wraps her arms around Muse’s waist and hangs on.  “I missed you.”

    “I was here.  You even heard me.  It just got a little muddy there for a while.”

    “But now you’re working!” Harry hops past at the head of a conga line.

    “And you’re developing good habits!” Skipper skips behind him.

    “And, although you aren’t drinking as much of me now, we are still close, ma cherie,” Coffee twirls and dips at the end.

    “I think you’re celebrating too early,” Betsy calls after them.

    “Yes, but you are making progress, are you not?” Coffee stops and grabs Betsy’s hands. “Although I am sad that we are not so close, ma cherie, and that you have started spending time with DECAF.” Coffee spits the word. “Mon Dieu.  Decaf.  Still, that which does not kill us only serves to make us stronger, n’est pas?”  He dances off.

    “I don’t even drink French Roast anymore you know,” Betsy yells after him.  “You should sound Colombian!”

    “Let them have their fun.” The Muse settles on the sofa next to Betsy.  “They’ve waited a long time for you to be able to give them your attention again.”

    “Not Coffee.  I’ve given him plenty of attention.”

    The Muse dips her head in acknowledgment.  “True.”

    Betsy chews on her bottom lip.  “It’s just…this isn’t a sure thing, you know.  I’ve screwed up before.  Just because I’m moving in a good direction at the moment doesn’t mean I’ll be able to keep doing it.”

    “Do you think you’ll fail?”

    “No.”  Betsy fidgets.  “Maybe.  I’m scared okay?  I’m scared that the good things I’m doing aren’t going to last.  They never lasted before.”

    “Let me tell you something.”  The Muse settles back in her seat.  “Generally speaking, you get what you expect to get when it comes to this kind of thing.  So if you constantly expect to fail, guess what?”

    “I’ll fail?”

    “Ding, ding, ding!” The Muse waves a hand.  “Give the lady a prize.”

    “So I should just expect to succeed?”

    “Right.”

    “And what if I fail anyway?”

    “Well, then you think “hey, that was a mistake” and pick yourself up and move on.  It’s not a failure, it’s a lesson you needed to learn.”

    “I’ve been learning these lessons for a long time.”

    “Some lessons take time.”

    Betsy thinks.  “So, just move forward and don’t be afraid?”

    The Muse smiles.  “Exactly.  And you might want to go dance with Harry, Skipper, and Coffee.”

    “You know what?” Betsy gets up.  “I think I will!”  She awkwardly starts dancing and joins the conga line, to the delight of the other participants.  Betsy tries not to step on their feet.  She fails.  So she learns to give them all some space.

    Hold onto your breath

    Hold onto your heart

    Hold onto your hope

    March up to the gate

    And bid it open!

     

    To be comtinued…

  • Unknotting The Knots

    You may be interested to know that one reason there hasn’t been a blog post for a few weeks is because, amazingly enough, Betsy actually IS working.  But it turned out that the work she was doing had gotten all tangled and snarled, like a ball of thread that had become hopelessly knotted. 

    Then one day, when the ball of thread Betsy was pushing would not roll any further because it was so knotted and snarled and tangled, Betsy sat down and started working on unraveling the situation.

    Here’s how it went…

     

    Betsy is walking up a tall mountain.  She is carrying a ball that is really just a huge wad of tangled threads.  A single thread is coming from the ball and winding off behind her.  As she walks, the thread continues to unwind to show her where she’s been.  But it’s been getting difficult to keep moving.  The massive tangle in Betsy’s hands prevents the thread from unwinding smoothly.  Sometimes Betsy has to yank at it to keep it going.  Her progress has become full of stops and starts.

    Unwind…yank…pull…unwind.

    Then, suddenly, Betsy can’t go any further.  The thread is stuck.  She yanks.  Nothing.  She pulls.  Nothing.  She twists and turns.  Nothing. “Oh, for heavens sakes.”  Betsy sits down on the mountainside and pulls at the thread that has been unwinding behind her, trying to dislodge it from the tangle.  It doesn’t move.

    “Great.”

    When she looks closer, she sees that the thread has become impossibly knotted, just like a fine necklace that’s been carelessly dropped into a jewelry box.

    In fact, this exact thing happened to Betsy once.  She had tossed a necklace into the bottom of her jewelry box without thought.  The chain of the necklace was so fine that it became knotted almost at once, and the knot was so difficult to see that Betsy almost gave up trying to get it free. But the necklace was precious to her, so she persevered and was eventually successful.  It just took a lot of time.  Does she want to spend the time here?

    But this tangle of threads is precious too, isn’t it?

    Betsy picks at the clump of knots with her fingernail with no result.

    “I see the knots, but they are such a mess that I can’t see where to pull to get them out,” she mutters.

    Betsy picks up her tangle of threads, looks at it.  Holds it up in the air above her head.  Scratches at it, tries to tease it apart, but she can’t make an opening.

    “What am I supposed to do now?”

    “Keep working at it.” 

    Betsy turns to see the Muse is walking towards her, flowing up the mountain.

    “Keep working at it!  Do you see how knotted it all is in there?  This is a waste of time.”

    “Well, I suppose you can throw this mess away and go back to the beginning.  Start again.”

    “I don’t want to do that either.”

    Muse settles on the ground beside Betsy.  Raises an eyebrow.

    Betsy sighs and goes back to work on the knots.  She picks at the tight thread until there’s a little leeway and she can get her fingernail into the first knot.  When it loosens enough, she pulls it apart.

    That’s not going to help much.  The knot is loose, but when she starts things rolling again, it will only tighten up and be as bad as it was before.

    Betsy thinks for a moment.

    “You know what you have to do,” the Muse says.

    Betsy does.  With a sigh, she starts pulling the string that has been unwinding behind her as she has climbed the mountain.  She gathers it into a neat little ball, only a tiny fraction the size of the tangle she’d been holding (she hadn’t gotten very far before the knots stopped her).  Once she has it all wrapped up, it’s pretty easy to loosen the knot and slip the little ball through the loops.  Then the knot is gone and the thread is smooth in her hand.

    She does this for the next knot.  And the next.  And the next.

    This goes on for quite some time.  Some of the knots are tricky and require a lot of thought.  But eventually, it looks like the knots are out.  Not all of them, of course.  Some are still embedded into the thread itself.  But the big ones, the ones that were making the thread a tangled mess, are relatively smooth.

    “Good job,” the Muse tells her.

    “I guess, but now I’ve lost my way,” Betsy says.  “Since I had to pull up the thread that was behind me, I don’t know where I came from.”

    “Roll that ball and let the thread that was behind you go back to the beginning,” the Muse tells her.

    Betsy does as she suggests and the little ball of thread rolls back down the mountain.  Betsy frowns.

    “But that’s not right.  It didn’t go back to where it was before.”

    “Of course not.  Where it was before is what created all of those knots as you got further along.”

    “Oh.”  Betsy frowns.  “So you’re saying I wasn’t quite on the right path.”

    “No.  And that got everything all tangled and snarled.  But now you’re smoothed out and ready to roll again.”

    “Will it stay that way?” Betsy demands.

    The Muse shrugs.  “Probably not.  Sometimes you have to work out a few knots before you really know where you’re going.”

    “I guess.” Betsy sighs and starts moving again.

     

    To be continued…