Tag Archives: #themeaslyjarofmotivation

The Measly Jar of Motivation – the ocean- have you seen it?

Posted on May 27, 2024 | 1 comment

Have you ever seen the ocean? I don’t mean on TV or in films or on social media. Have you actually stood on the beach and gazed out over the ocean?

I have. Two of them to be precise but let’s stick with one for the purposes of this blog.

I first saw the ocean fifty years ago this August on a family holiday to the USA. (Lord that makes me sound ancient!) I was four years old but still have some vivid memories of that trip. Among the clearest are those of visiting Ocean City NJ, playing in the icy cold sand under the boardwalk, paddling in the ocean itself and watching my cousin build “drizzle” sandcastles. Some of that sand and ocean seeped into my soul that summer.

We returned six years later for another family reunion. That trip marked the start of another ocean related love affair. We spent a few days staying in Rehoboth Beach DE. (If you’ve read my Silver Lake series, you’ll be familiar with Rehoboth Beach) That small town stole a piece of my heart there and then.

It was another twenty-four years before I returned to the USA for a family trip. This time it was me taking my own young family to experience the ocean’s magic.  We spent a few days in Ocean City MD but on the way back to my aunt’s house, my cousin took the kids and I to Rehoboth Beach. I was a little anxious in case the magic had faded. I needn’t have worries. That ocean magic was still there even if the Weather Gods weren’t being kind that day. We got soaked to the skin in a downpour!

I returned several times over the next eight years and a highlight of each trip was a day at Rehoboth Beach.

Thanks to the wonders of modern technology, I’ve been able to enjoy the ocean and the beach from afar. In fact, watching the sunrise via FB live videos shared by wonderful local photographers and the webcam on one of the oceanfront hotels helped keep me going through the three years of the Big Green Gummi Bear’s illness.

That ocean kept whispering to me.

As I watched those virtual sunrises, I made a promise to myself to return to Rehoboth Beach and sit on that sand and watch it for myself.

I’m honouring that promise at the end of next month.

My world has changed since my last visit to Rehoboth Beach and my last view of the Atlantic Ocean. My kids have grown up and have lives of their own to lead. I’m now a widow (still not too sure about that word) and I’m returning on my own this time.

I hope that magic is still there….

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The Measly Jar of Motivation – the feeling of anticipation

Posted on March 19, 2024 | Leave a comment

I sat down to write this week’s blog savouring the feeling of anticipation of a creative spurt.

I hoped to seek joy in the words I would write.

I sat, pencil in hand, staring at the blank page.

I sat poised to write.

I waited……

And I waited……

And I’m still sitting with the feeling of anticipation as I wait for the words to begin to flow….

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The Measly Jar of Motivation – An Odd Shoe

Posted on March 5, 2024 | Leave a comment

Birds were singing in the trees as she made her way through the labyrinth of paths to reach her grandmother’s grave. She smiled when she spotted it basking in the warm sunshine with its gorgeous view of the surrounding countryside.

Kneeling down in the lush grass, she removed the dead flowers from the vase at the base of the headstone and replaced them with the fresh wildflower bouquet she had picked that morning. Carefully she arranged them so that they sat evenly in the vase.

“Oh, Grandma,” she sighed. “I miss you. Miss your words of wisdom. Miss your smile. I wish you were here.”

Her eyes filled with tears, “Alex left me. He’s been having an affair with a woman from work. She’s pregnant with his baby.”

A small bird came to sit on the headstone, its head cocked to one side as if it was listening.

“He told me he never wanted kids!” The words were spoken with the taste of bitterness that she felt inside echoing through them. “I want kids!”

The bird looked at her.

Burying her face in her hands, she sobbed, letting out all the hurt and anger, rage and disappointment. In her mind, she could visualise her grandmother placing her hand on her shoulder and saying, “These things happen for a reason, Ruby. If you’d been meant to be a pair for life, he wouldn’t have been the odd shoe.”

“Odd shoe?” she whispered the words as she held onto the image of her grandmother.

“Never liked that boy. Didn’t make any effort to fit in. He wasn’t a good match for you. I told your mother that.”

“Mum did say you’d be relieved. She told me you weren’t Alex’s biggest fan.”

“He’s a selfish arrogant…” a bird screeching nearby drowned out a string of profanities.

“Grandma!”

“You need someone unique. Someone whose odd shoe matches yours. Don’t waste your time with Alex. You’re too good for the likes of him, girl.”

“Mum said the same thing,” sighed Ruby, drawing comfort from the ghostly conversation in her head.

“Odd shoe, Ruby. Mark my words.”

As she sat by her grandmother’s grave, Ruby dried her tears and reflected on the five years she had spent with Alex. His shoes had always been perfect…as had his clothes and hair and even his nails. He had been the well-polished Gucci loafer to her colourful Converse. In the early days of their relationship, he had adored her quirky sense of style but as he had climbed the career ladder, he had become increasingly critical of her clothes, her hair and her figure…and her job…in fact as she sat in the sun, Ruby recognised that he had found fault with everything that made her who she was.

“You’re better off without him, Ruby.”

She heard her grandmother’s voice clear as a bell.

“I need to go, Grandma,” she apologised as she got to her feet. “I’ll be back next week.”

“Watch out for odd shoes, angel.”

Smiling at the ghostly advice, Ruby headed back to her car. Checking the time, she realised she’d be late to meet her friend at the new coffee shop in town. As she reached her car, a beaten-up vintage VW beetle, she sent her friend a message, “Running late. Be with you in ten, X”.

There was only one parking space left outside the coffee shop. It was beside a red 1970’s VW camper van. As a teenager, Ruby had always dreamed of touring the country, living like a gypsy, in a red VW van. Every time she saw one, she regretted not following that dream.

“Sorry I’m late,” she apologised as she slipped into the booth to sit opposite her friend.

“You say that every time, Ruby,” laughed her friend, used to her tardiness.

“Have you ordered?”

“Not yet. I was waiting for you.”

Their conversation was interrupted by the arrival of the waiter.

“Ladies, what can I tempt you to today?”

Looking up, Ruby found herself gazing into a pair of twinkling hazel eyes. He smiled. Without taking her eyes off him, Ruby placed her order.

As he walked away, she noticed he was wearing odd shoes.

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The Measly Jar of Motivation – Someone Else’s Secret (flash fiction)

Posted on November 28, 2023 | Leave a comment

Gentle waves lapped at the pillars beneath the fishing pier. The pier stretched out in front of her, reaching out towards the watery horizon. As was her want, she had climbed up onto one of the concrete blocks at the base of one of the pillars, choosing one free from seaweed that was catching the early morning sun. The first hour after sunrise was her favourite time of day. All around her the world was wakening up. Off to her left, she could see a heron, wading leisurely through the shallows. The beach was virtually deserted, only the occasional fisherman standing on the shoreline.

It was a peaceful scene. A perfect picture of tranquillity.

With her sketchpad balanced on her knee and two spare pencils skewered through her messy hair bun, she worked swiftly to capture an image of the heron before it took flight.

A voice, an irate voice, shattered her concentration. Looking up from her drawing, she spotted a guy with shoulder length tousled blonde hair, wearing a dark suit with the trousers rolled up, wading through the water between the pillars. His black leather shoes were sticking out of his suit jacket pockets.

“It was our fucking wedding night, and you fucked my best man!” he ranted as he walked between two pillars a few metres from where she sat unseen.

He paused his stride while the other person, his bride, replied.

Slamming his fist off one of the pillars, he fumed, “Screw you! I’ll be speaking to my lawyer to get this farce of a marriage annulled. Have a nice life, Elizabeth.”

Ending the call, he hurled his phone out into the ocean.

Sitting in stunned silence, she watched as the rejected bridegroom headed off down the beach away from her. His aura was screaming hurt and anger around him.

A strange feeling crept over her. She felt as though she had intruded on a private moment for the stranger, a life changing moment. A moment that had left her with the feeling of carrying someone else’s secret. Part of her wanted to run after him and tell him it would all work out, but would it?…

While she had been distracted, the heron had flown away.

The scene from the beach was still eating at her as she opened up her coffee shop an hour later. Her overactive imagination had woven all sorts of scenarios around the snippet of conversation, but she still felt guilty about accidentally overhearing it in the first place. Telling herself that it was just a moment in time, and she’d never see the guy again, she flipped the closed sign over to open before opening the door to let the ocean air waft in.

Soon her morning regulars began to fill the tables. The coffee shop hummed around her with the buzz of conversation.

“Americano with an extra shot to go please.”

The voice sounded familiar.

Looking up she found herself face to face with the guy from the beach….

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The Measly Jar of Motivation – The Tin (flash fiction)

Posted on October 10, 2023 | Leave a comment

So many years had passed since she had last seen “the tin”. When had it even last been opened? The old shortbread tin was beginning to show its age. The tartan sides and border on the lid were faded. The image of snowcapped Scottish mountains on the lid was growing faint with age, almost as though a veil of mist was hanging over their peaks. The tin was older than she was. In fact, it might even be older than her mother.

Holding it in her hands, memories of playing with it as a little girl came rushing back. She had spent many hours sorting through the contents, plaguing her gran to tell her the stories that went with them. Her gran had happily gone wandering down memory lane as she reminisced about where each item had come from.

When she had been a child, the tin had seemed huge and heavy. Now, as she held it in her hands, it was the weight of the memories within that she felt.

Taking great care, she eased off the lid. As she glimpsed inside it, everything looked exactly the same as it had done over forty years before.

The tin was filled with buttons.

There were buttons in all shapes and sizes; there were buttons of every colour.

Lost in her memories, she ran her fingers through the buttons.

She spotted the large dark green buttons that had belonged to her grandfather’s army coat from during the war. There were small round pearl buttons from one of her mother’s summer cardigans from the 1950’s. Big round purple buttons caught her eye. Those came from the wool coat her aunt had bought with her first wage packet. She could see some bone toggles that had been snipped from her father’s duffel coat. One still had its leather loop attached. Several small pearly white buttons with a star in the centre made her smile. They were from her own handknitted baby cardigans. In one of the corners, she saw four or five grey buttons clustered together that had come from one of her primary school cardigans.

Reaching into her jeans pocket, she pulled out four navy blue buttons about the size of a two pence piece. With a wistful smile, she added the buttons from her gran’s favourite cardigan to the tin.

Her whole family history could be told using the buttons from the tin. In her hands, she held several lifetimes of memories. If only those buttons could talk. The tales they would tell!

She was now the custodian of “the tin”. Silently, she promised her gran that she would keep up the family tradition and add her buttons and her children’s buttons to the tin. In time, the tin would pass down to the next generation but for now it was hers to cherish.

A teardrop fell, landing on a red button in the heart of the tin.

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The Measly Jar of Motivation – The Magical Powers of a New Pencil (flash fiction)

Posted on September 20, 2023 | Leave a comment

Skliffing his feet through the piles of dry autumn leaves that littered his walk to school, he trudged along the road. He hated Wednesdays. It was the absolute worst day of the week! Even Mondays were better than Wednesdays.

On Mondays, they had a maths test in the morning. He loved maths! Numbers made perfect sense to him. Correct answers flew from his pencil into his jotter.

Tuesdays weren’t so bad. They had PE on Tuesday afternoons. He loved when they did gymnastics. He wasn’t so keen on team games. No one ever wanted him on their team, and he was always among the last to be picked.

The best thing about Thursdays was swimming and diving. He’d begged and pleaded with his mum and dad to be allowed to learn to dive. You had to be a certain height to join the diving club, but he was tall for his age, so he had been allowed to join a year before a lot of others who were his age. His coach said he might even make the team for the next competition at the end of the month.

Fridays were great. They had pizza on Fridays.

Weekends were ok, he supposed. Sometimes his older brother would take him with him when he went out with his mates, and he got to hang about with the kids who rode BMX bikes and did stunts at the skatepark. He’d got his own BMX for his birthday during the summer holidays, but he was still scared to try any tricks…. yet. Maybe next time….

He could see the school gates a few yards ahead of him.

He hated Wednesdays….

It was all because of a hat. He desperately wanted to be allowed to wear the Spelling Wizard hat for the day, but his letters came out in all the wrong places. Why couldn’t letters be smart like numbers and come out of the pencil into the jotter in the right order? Letters were evil but he really really wanted to wear the pointy hat. It reminded him of the Sorting Hat from Harry Potter, and he was sure if he just got the chance to wear it once then his letters would land in the right order on the page. It was usually Jennifer or Christopher who got to wear it. They always got all the words right. Sometimes they had to share the hat. One got to wear it for the morning and the other got to wear it in the afternoon. He wouldn’t mind having to share it.

All term he had tried everything to get full marks. He had even borrowed Jennifer’s pencil to see if that helped. If the letters came out of it in the right order for her then maybe, they might behave for him too. No such luck! He had only scored seven out of fifteen that week.

The bell rang as he entered the gates.

“Spelling jotters out, class,” instructed his teacher as soon as she had called out the register.

Bother Jennifer and Christopher were off ill! Maybe, just maybe, this was his chance to wear the hat.

He took a brand-new pencil out of his pencil case.

Taking extra care to make his writing neat, he wrote down his answers word by word as the teacher read them out to the class from her sheet. Before he handed his jotter in to be marked, he read down the list of words quickly. They looked right…

“Class, complete the sums that are up on the board, please. If you finish before the time is up, take one of the worksheets from the blue tray.”

He finished the twenty sums within minutes and was on his second worksheet from the tray by the time the teacher told them to close their maths jotters.

As she lifted the Spelling Wizard hat, he held his breath.

“We have a new wizard this week,” she announced. “This week’s spelling wizard is Ryan! Well done!”

The class all cheered as she placed the coveted hat on his head. He had finally done it.

Smiling out from under its wide brim, he said, “Thank you,” to the teacher before carefully putting his new pencil back into the pencil case. From now on, it was his “spelling pencil” because the letters knew how to come out of that one in the right order.

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The Measly Jar of Motivation – Inside Out

Posted on August 21, 2023 | 1 comment

Night had long since descended. As she gazed out of the tenth-floor window, she could see the lights from the town twinkling below. Tiny cars were making their way along the roads. Everything looked so normal. It all looked the same. Nothing had changed yet at the same time, everything had changed. A huge crushing weight of responsibility had settled on her slender shoulders. Although this was a moment she had dreamt of and longed for, now that it was real, she was scared. Could she really do this? What if she failed? What if she wasn’t good enough? What if she couldn’t cope?

Behind her, the baby began to cry loud piercing wails as he squirmed in his clear plastic hospital crib.

Without hesitation, she scooped him up and cradled him in her arms, swaying gently from side to side to rock him back to sleep. Could she really do this alone?

She glanced down at his head covered in downy white, blonde hair, his angry red face, his tiny, clenched fists.

Her eyes caught sight of a label. His tiny white vest was on inside out. What kind of mother was she going to make if she couldn’t even put his first vest on the right way round?

Suddenly the familiar world outside the window seemed dark and scary and completely overwhelming.

“What are you doing out of bed? It’s late. You should try to get some rest,” scolded the midwife softly.

“But he was crying…”

“Let me settle him tonight. You need to rest. You’ve had a long emotional day,” stated the midwife stepping closer.

Wearily, she handed the fractious baby, her three-hours old son, to the midwife.

“Now, do we have a name yet?” asked the midwife, accepting the baby into her arms.

“Oliver,” she replied quietly as she smiled at her son. Allowing her mind to remember her late partner momentarily as she wrestled with her grief, then she added, “After his dad.”

“It’s a good name,” nodded the midwife as baby Oliver’s cries began to subside. “Now, bed. Sleep. Rest. The world will look less daunting in the morning.”

“I hope so…”

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The Measly Jar of Motivation – Seasons Move On (poem)

Posted on July 26, 2023 | Leave a comment

When she opened her eyes,

The seasons had moved on…

Time hadn’t stood still.

The heat was gone from the sun.

There was a chill in the air.

It was time to move on.

Time to seek freedom.

The world still weighted heavily on her.

As she walked the load lightened.

She began to breathe again,

Taking deeper and deeper breaths.

Feeling the sun on her back,

She savoured the taste of autumn.

Turning to face the October sun,

She smiled and walked on

Leaving the shadows to fall behind.

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The Measly Jar of Motivation – Margarita Promises (flash fiction)

Posted on June 21, 2023 | 1 comment

As it was her last night in town, she had taken her time getting ready, making an effort with her make-up. Two weeks in the sunshine had added natural blonde highlights to her long hair. Her skin glowed, the strained dark shadows long gone from under her eyes. Glancing in the mirror one last time, she smiled. The reflection smiling back finally looked familiar.

With a swish of her long flowing cotton skirt, she left her Airbnb apartment, walked carefully down the stairs, reaching the boardwalk within a minute, just as the website had promised. Down on the beach, the last of the day’s sunworshippers were packing up. Further along she could see a group of teenagers playing volleyball and beyond that some fishermen with their rods sunk into the sand and their lines cast out into the ocean.

Unable to resist the lure of the sand, she kicked off her sandals, scooped them up by their straps and set off barefoot across the sand, it’s soft grains still warm underfoot from the day’s sun. To her right, ocean waves crashed ashore.

Her heart wasn’t ready to leave; her mind told her it was time to head back to reality.

When she had booked the trip that she’d dreamt of for so long, she’d told everyone “What I really want to experience is sunrise and sunset on the beach.” And she had…every day since she’d arrived.

Tonight would be her last sunset for a while; tomorrow her last sunrise before the Uber picked her up at lunchtime for the first leg of her journey home.

During the long dark months at home, she had checked the beachcam images of the beach and boardwalk daily. As she’d gazed at her laptop screen, she had promised herself when she finally made the trip that she would visit the bar in the foreground of the webcam view and enjoy a drink gazing out over the ocean.

The first night when she’d walked in there alone, her heart had been pounding, her anxieties crashing through her like one of the powerful ocean breakers that were breaking on the shore behind her. Walking into a bar alone was way outside her comfort zone but she knew she had a promise to herself to keep so, taking a deep breath, she walked across the room to the bar. She took a seat on a tall cocktail stool at the bar and ordered a margarita.

She’d done it. Another promise from the list honoured.

Around the same time the following evening, she’d returned to the bar for another margarita. This time it felt less daunting.

On her third night when she’d walked in feeling confident, the bartender had smiled as he saw her approach and began to mix her cocktail. When she went to pay for the drink, he told her the check had been taken care of.

There was someone sitting on the stool next to her usual spot when she entered on her fourth night.

“Chris, mix the lady’s margarita,” the stranger had instructed then turning to smile at her, said, “Good day on the beach?”

“Perfect,” she’d replied feeling a little flutter of nerves.

“Been beautiful today,” he’d agreed before introducing himself.

And so, her holiday margarita ritual had begun.

Each evening he was there waiting for her. A couple of nights they had gone for a walk along the boardwalk; a couple of nights the following week they had gone for dinner. He had been the perfect gentleman, proving to be easy to talk to and a good listener. Gradually, through casual conversation, they got to know each other, the first seeds of friendship sown over their margaritas.

When she stepped up onto the boardwalk from the beach, she found him standing watching her.

“Hi,” she called as she brushed sand from her feet before slipping them back into her sandals.

“Hi,” he greeted her as she walked towards him. “The lure of another walk on the sand too much to resist?”

“Always,” she laughed. “Going to be hard leaving here tomorrow.”

“Then don’t.”

“Pardon?”

“Stay,” he suggested simply, slipping his hand into hers. The fit instantly felt natural to her.

“I can’t….” she began.

Gazing down at her, he said, “What if you gave yourself permission to say yes?”

The next promise on the list waiting to be honoured was “be happy”.

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The Measly Jar of Motivation – Writer’s Block (flash fiction)

Posted on May 24, 2023 | Leave a comment

 Staring at the writing prompts lying on the desk in front of her, the writer’s mind was blank…totally blank. No stories. No paragraphs. No sentences. No words. Not even any letters. Blank…totally blank.

Was this what writer’s block felt like?

The silence in her mind was eerie. None of her imaginary friends, her characters, were whispering to her.

Had she done something to upset them?

Tiptoeing slowly, she explored the dark corridors of her mind, searching in all the dusty corners for any signs of inspiration.

Nothing….

A noise behind her caused her to turn round. It was the sound of a door closing. There were footsteps scurrying through the dark.

Then she spotted it. Inspiration was hurrying back to her along with two new faces. New characters? As they approached, she could hear them chatting animatedly.

When they reached her, she wrapped them in a huge welcoming hug.

Smiling, the writer picked up her pen and began to write.

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