My Dearest Wish

Recently, two women standing in line behind me at an ATM machine were discussing the fact that machines had shortchanged them in the past. After a long, involved story of what she had to do to obtain her money, one of them commented that the machines never overpaid her.

"That's my dearest wish," the second woman said. "I'd love to get extra money sometime."

"I wouldn't give it back if I did," the first woman said.

"Me either," the second woman agreed.

I finished my transaction and left them to their dreams of riches. But their conversation made me wonder what my dearest wish is. If I could have anything I wished for, what would I choose?

I do know that I wouldn't wish for a machine to spew twenty-dollar bills at me. I'd feel obligated to return the money, so that wish wouldn't do me much good. I don't think I'd wish for lots of money, in any form. What good would it do me to be rich, if I ended up like Howard Hughes?

While I'd rather be healthy than rich, I've no desire to live in poverty. I'd prefer to have more to think about than my day-to-day survival. And I certainly want the mental stability to enjoy what I have.

The trouble with wishes is that they all too often come true. And when they do, it's usually in a very literal way, with consequences we never imagined when we first wished. Wishes are like everything else--they are balanced. Yin and yang. Sunshine and shadows. A cost for every benefit. I need a comprehensive wish--one that covers health, wealth, and wisdom, with no disagreeable aftermath.

I unthinkingly wish for foolish things. I wish the person in line ahead of me would hurry up. I wish my internet connection was faster. I wish I didn't have to clean house. I wish the Sunday paper still carried my favorite comics. What if we only have so much "wish credit," and I've frittered mine away on insignificant wishes? I wish I knew.

There are few things I'd change in my life, given the opportunity to do so, and yet I'm not so foolish as to wish things would stay exactly as they are. My life isn't perfect, but it's good. Maybe that's why if a genie popped into my life right now and offered to grant my dearest wish, I wouldn't know what to wish for.

Sanchona's Review of Acts of Love

Acts of Love was my second published novel.

Australian author Sanchona (A Family of Strangers) wrote the following review:

"Ms Cassandra Barnes has published a new novel, Acts of Love which tells the story of Amanda Reed, who has made a new life for herself in a small town where she has cultivated a large group of close friends. Then two murders shake up the community. Amanda and her friends rally around to help the family of the victims. It is in this chaotic time that Michael, the son Amanda had regretfully abandoned for his own good years ago, shows up at her door. There is no great reunion. Michael resents his mother, but has only looked her up for the sake of his son, who has recently been diagnosed with cancer. Michael is hoping that Amanda, as the grandmother, might be that compatible bone marrow donor to save his child's life. Acts of Love deals with the question of hard decisions some people make based on love that call for personal sacrifice, then years later, they wonder if they had made the right decision. Cassandra Barnes is to be congratulated for skillfully weaving into this theme a budding romance in a murder mystery that is then complicated by a family conflict. This appealing novel makes easy reading. I look forward to her next novel."

Sometimes I Surprise Myself!

In my early 30s I became acquainted with a woman about twice my age who shared my love of reading. In talking with her, I learned that she primarily read non-fiction, and was avid about learning new things. With the arrogance of youth, I wondered why, since she was retired, and therefore "old," with no practical (meaning income-producing) way to apply that knowledge.

Now that I’m about her age, I’ve found that all I want to read is non-fiction, and that I just can’t seem to get my fill of learning something new. I now understand that people don’t have to "do" something with their knowledge, that there is great pleasure in simply discovering new information or expanding existing information.

I still enjoy fiction, although my tastes have changed dramatically over the years, but I’ll nearly always chose non-fiction first. Some of it is lightweight, and some of it forces me to really study what the author is saying. I’m very eclectic, reading from an extensive selection of authors, philosophies, and fields.

I suppose in a way that I’m looking for answers, although I’ve not formulated any serious questions. I think, though, that most of it is a matter of curiosity, of wanting to know as much as I can about everything. The older I get, the more I realize how little I really know, despite having lived a full life, with a variety of experiences.

From Trash To Treasure

I recently watched a squirrel attempting to carry something fairly large and bulky up a tree. I put peanuts out for them every morning, but his burden definitely wasn’t a peanut. It looked like an oversize coffee cup from a takeout place. The squirrel tried repeatedly to run up the tree, sometimes making it almost halfway up, but invariably dropping his treasure. He’d scramble down, grab the cup and try again.

I knew he’d never reach his goal, whatever high branch it was, so I went out to pick up the cup, mentally grumbling about whichever neighbor had left trash out for the squirrels.
When I got to the bottom of the tree, I discovered an empty peanut butter container. Not only that, I recognized it as stolen from my recycling box! I’d left the box lid loose enough that the furry thief had been able to loot the contents.

I’d washed out the jar before disposing of it, but it had a fluted bottom and I hadn’t been able to remove all traces of peanut butter. It was plastic, and the squirrel had chewed a two-inch hole in the side. Apparently other squirrels on the ground were trying to steal his trophy or perhaps he wanted to finish devouring it at his leisure in a tree. In either case, he considered me the thief and roundly scolded me.

I now have a new recycling container, with a tight-fitting lid that I’m careful about closing securely. I still hear little feet scrambling around occasionally, so I know my squirrel thief is waiting for its chance to grab another treasure.

A Perfect Body Accepted for Publication

I'm pleased to announce that my third novel, A Perfect Body, has been accepted for publication by Write Words, Inc. It's scheduled for release on June 1, 2009 as an e-book.

A Perfect Body is a contemporary sweet romance.

Description: A bundle of contradictions, Madeleine Andrews doesn't play well with others, yet is a devoted volunteer. Luke McFarland is a successful people-pleaser, burying his own desires beneath an ever-present smile. Theirs could be the love affair of the century, but first they have to learn to like each other. She thinks he's insincere and a phony. He thinks she's arrogant and difficult. And that's just the start of their problems.

Spring Is In The Air

The skies spit snow earlier this week, but there’s nothing but sunshine in the forecast now, and spring is springing.

I saw the first flowers last week - dandelions waving in the wind. I don’t recall seeing those bloom so early in the past, but there they were, as cheery as could be.

Monday a hummingbird checked out the bird feeder. This worried me a bit, as our nighttime temperatures are still well below freezing, and there’s nothing blooming that hummers can feed on. It’s much too early for them to be this far north. I made syrup and hung out the hummingbird feeder in case it returned, but I’ve not seen it again. I fear that the little thing either starved or froze. The syrup in the feeder has been frozen every morning.

Tuesday, a sunny yellow crocus poked its little head through the mulch. The subsequent snowfall didn’t keep it from being bright and perky.

Many of the winter birds are still coming to our feeders, but the spring and summer birds are making an appearance also. We’ve seen three goldfinches and a pair of Western bluebirds, two of our favorite species. There’s been several robins as well.

If this year is like past years, we’ll still have snowfall, but for now, we’re enjoying flowers blooming, birds signing, and sun shining.

Ouspensky on Knowledge, Part I

I’ve started Chapter One of "Tertium Organum: A Key to the Enigmas of the World," by P D. Ouspensky.** He begins with assertion that "The most difficult thing is to know what we do know, and what we do not know."

He says we can start with knowing two facts. The first is our inner life, which is the subjective fact of our existence. The second is the existence of the outer world, which is objective. He maintains that we cannot prove these two basic facts, that we must simply accept them as given. Everything else is an unknown.

His conclusion: we learn about what exists outside us by the sensations generated within our inner selves. The mistake we then make is in thinking our sensations are the cause of what we experience in the outer world.

For me, Ouspensky’s insights resonate with the idea that nothing is good or bad in and of itself. Our attitude, our thoughts, our experiences, our sensations combine to make something seem good or bad. We always have a choice as to how we regard any particular object or action, although it may not seem so in the heat of the moment.

Thoughts happen so quickly that it seems impossible to control them in any way, but I’ve learned from others that there is an instant, an infinitesimal space, before the thought forms. The trick is to become aware of that instant, that space, and in that manner gain awareness of our thoughts. Then we can start learning why we perceive the outer world the way we do.
But for starters, I think it’d be helpful if I’d just pause before I say "I know this or that" and wonder whether or not I truly know it. And if I know it, how?

**Refer to first Ouspensky post for more info on him and his book.