Midnight Goddess

Current Mood: Esctatic & Esctatic & Esctatic & Esctatic

For about 22 months, Barack Obama worked tirelessly to gain the support and votes of the American people. He had only become a US Senator 4 years before. When he had decided to run for president, not very many people knew of him. There was little money when he began his steep, uphill campaign. But as he trudged along, people started to take notice.

Yesterday, a record breaking number of people came out to participate in this historic event. Many people who may have never voted before because they felt that their votes wouldn’t count. Young people. People who had long ago given up on the government. White, native American, Asian, Middle Eastern, and especially African American. Many cast their votes early via mail. Others waited in impressively long lines early in the morning even through the cold and soaking rain just so they could vote.

In the beginning of this race to the presidency, there was very little hope that the American people would vote in favor of the nation’s very first African American president. But last night the people spoke. And loudly at that. It wasn’t a neck and neck race. It wasn’t a close race. Halfway through the day, it was quite evident who the majority of the people were voting for.

I was at the edge of my seat as I watched the results pouring in on Fox News. Normally, I don’t watch the news. I don’t read about it. I don’t watch it. I have no interest in it because usually the news is depressing or makes me angry. But yesterday it was different. I wanted to know who American was voting for. Every time Obama gained another state’s electoral votes, I loudly and proudly cheered for him, especially when a particular state had many electoral votes. I do admit I booed McCain when he gained a state. But it really didn’t matter. Early on it was quite obvious that Obama was winning the majority of the states’ electoral votes. When he won California’s staggering 55 electoral votes near the end, I screamed, jumped, cheered, and made all kinds of noise. I was extremely ecstatic. And this had happened after me, Marty, and the kids walked next door to the local church to cast our votes for Obama. We had also voted No on 8 but it looks like the majority of CA is voting yes. Very disappointing.

Around 8ish in the evening, Fox News called it. Barack Obama was the next president elect. The 44th president of the United States of American. The first African American. I was in tears as my heart swelled in pride. Obama had rightfully earned the hearts and support of the American people. He managed to convince all kinds of people to come out and vote.

The news said that McCain had conceded and privately called Obama to sincerely congratulate him on his victorious win. Then he came out to make his final speech to his very disappointed crowd of Republican supporters. I personally don’t like his ideals or what he had planned for America. But last night when he gave his final speech, I was impressed and he earned my respect as a genuinely sincere person. He made a great speech and even teared up several times. Whenever he spoke of Obama positively, the crowd booed. But he responded by raising his hands at them to stop. He definitely earned my respect.

Here is the video of McCain:

And now I present to you (if you hadn’t already seen it), Barack Obama’s acceptance speech:

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Here is a very inspirational true story of a devoted father.

I try to be a good father. Give my kids mulligans. Work nights to pay for their text messaging. Take them to swimsuit shoots.

But compared with Dick Hoyt, I suck.

Eighty-five times he’s pushed his disabled son, Rick, 26.2 miles in marathons. Eight times he’s not only pushed him 26.2 miles in a wheelchair but also towed him 2.4 miles in a dinghy while swimming and pedaled him 112 miles in a seat on the handlebars - all in the same day.

Dick’s also pulled him cross-country skiing, taken him on his back mountain climbing and once hauled him across the U.S. on a bike. Makes taking your son bowling look a little lame, right?

And what has Rick done for his father? Not much - except save his life.

This love story began in Winchester, Mass., 43 years ago, when Rick was strangled by the umbilical cord during birth, leaving him brain-damaged and unable to control his limbs.

“He’ll be a vegetable the rest of his life,” Dick says doctors told him and his wife, Judy, when Rick was nine months old. “Put him in an institution.”

But the Hoyts weren’t buying it. They noticed the way Rick’s eyes followed them around the room. When Rick was 11 they took him to the engineering department at Tufts University and asked if there was anything to help the boy communicate. “No way,” Dick says he was told. “There’s nothing going on in his brain.”

“Tell him a joke,” Dick countered. They did. Rick laughed. Turns out a lot was going on in his brain.

Rigged up with a computer that allowed him to control the cursor by touching a switch with the side of his head, Rick was finally able to communicate. First words? “Go Bruins!” And after a high school classmate was paralyzed in an accident and the school organized a charity run for him, Rick pecked out, “Dad, I want to do that.”

Yeah, right. How was Dick, a self-described “porker” who never ran more than a mile at a time, going to push his son five miles? Still, he tried. “Then it was me who was handicapped,” Dick says. “I was sore for two weeks.”

That day changed Rick’s life. “Dad,” he typed, “when we were running, it felt like I wasn’t disabled anymore!”

And that sentence changed Dick’s life. He became obsessed with giving Rick that feeling as often as he could. He got into such hard-belly shape that he and Rick were ready to try the 1979 Boston Marathon.

“No way,” Dick was told by a race official. The Hoyts weren’t quite a single runner, and they weren’t quite a wheelchair competitor. For a few years Dick and Rick just joined the massive field and ran anyway, then they found a way to get into the race officially: In 1983 they ran another marathon so fast they made the qualifying time for Boston the following year.

Then somebody said, “Hey, Dick, why not a triathlon?”

How’s a guy who never learned to swim and hadn’t ridden a bike since he was six going to haul his 110-pound kid through a triathlon? Still, Dick tried.

Now they’ve done 212 triathlons, including four grueling 15-hour Ironmans in Hawaii. It must be a buzzkill to be a 25-year-old stud getting passed by an old guy towing a grown man in a dinghy, don’t you think?

Hey, Dick, why not see how you’d do on your own? “No way,” he says. Dick does it purely for “the awesome feeling” he gets seeing Rick with a cantaloupe smile as they run, swim and ride together.

This year, at ages 65 and 43, Dick and Rick finished their 24th Boston marathon, in 5,083rd place out of more than 20,000 starters. Their best time? Two hours, 40 minutes in 1992 - only 35 minutes off the world record, which, in case you don’t keep track of these things, happens to be held by a guy who was not pushing another man in a wheelchair at the time.

“No question about it,” Rick types. “My dad is the Father of the Century.”

And Dick got something else out of all this too. Two years ago he had a mild heart attack during a race. Doctors found that one of his arteries was 95% clogged. “If you hadn’t been in such great shape,” one doctor told him, “you probably would’ve died 15 years ago.”

So, in a way, Dick and Rick saved each other’s life.

Rick, who has his own apartment (he gets home care) and works in Boston, and Dick, retired from the military and living in Holland, Mass., always find ways to be together. They give speeches around the country and compete in some backbreaking race every weekend, including this Father’s Day.

That night, Rick will buy his dad dinner, but the thing he really wants to give him is a gift he can never buy.

“The thing I’d most like, Rick types, “is that my dad sit in the chair and I push him once.”

By Rick Reilly

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Here’s a poem I received in my email. Unfortunately the author is unknown…

When things go wrong, as they sometimes will,
When the road you’re trudging seems all uphill,
When funds are low and the debts are high,
And you want to smile but you have to sigh,
When care is pressing you down a bit,
Rest if you must, but don’t you quit.

Life is queer with its twists and turns,
As every one of us sometimes learns,
And many a failure turns about,
When he might have won if he’d stuck it out.
Don’t give up, though the pace seems slow -
You may succeed with another blow.

Often the goal is nearer than
It seems to a faint and faltering man;
Often the struggler has given up
When he might have captured the victor’s cup,
And he learned too late, when the night slipped down,
How close he was to the golden crown.

Success is failure turned inside out -
The silver tint of the clouds of doubt,
And you never can tell how close you are -
It may be near when it seems afar;
So stick to the fight when you’re hardest hit -
It’s when things seem worst that you mustn’t quit.

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I survived another year of life and I’m very thankful. It’s been a tough year as my birthday marks a year since me and Marty went through a very painful, trying time. We’re still healing from it and I expect that it will take awhile before we’re completely healed.

We didn’t do anything “special” for my birthday because we didn’t have any money and Marty had to work all day today. But I’ve gotten many phone calls throughout the day from my family: aunts, uncles, in-laws, grandma, Mom and Dad, Marty, and Sean. It was great hearing from everyone. I even got bombarded with birthday greetings from my guild friends on WoW, thanks to Sean who told them that it was my birthday ;). Thanks Sean. I also got a lot of automated greetings from various forums, including ones that I forgot I was a member of.

The kids were being good for me. They weren’t stressing me out or pissing me off which was good. Memphis had drawn balloons and cake for me. Him and Jaz torn off a bunch of bright colored post-its and put them in a pillow case. They tossed them in the air and pretended that it was all confetti. We sat down at 8 PM and watched “Who, Bob, What Pants”, a gift from Memphis to me ;).

Last night, Marty gave me a really sweet birthday card. I knew he spent a lot of time picking out just the right card for me. He said he had to read about 15 different cards before he found the right one. It was really sweet of him. He included a scratch it ticket. I was close to winning $25,000. Only needed one more number. Oh well. Maybe next time.

Last night and part of this evening, Memphis has been bawling his eyes out because he doesn’t want me and Marty to die. We tried to explain to him that we have long lives to live. We talked in depth about God, death, the after life, Heaven… It was too much for Memphis. He kept crying and crying saying that he didn’t want to be alone and that he wanted to go with us when we pass away. I tried to comfort him the best I could. He’s such a sweet boy with a big heart. I love him.

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This story hit me personally and very directly:

I could not have imagined this moment two weeks earlier - or two years earlier, for that matter! I had just flown in from San Francisco and was looking for a black Mercedes at the Toronto airport while holding a sign that read: “Hi Linda Proctor. I’m Ann Rea.” Thankfully, Linda spotted me rather quickly. She got out of her car and we hugged. Then we were on our way to give Bob a surprise birthday present.

When we arrived at their home, I followed Linda into Bob’s office overlooking his garden. There he was, sitting at his desk, bigger than life - the charismatic man I had only ever seen before this moment in the movie, The Secret. It was all very surreal.

Linda introduced me by saying, “This is Ann Rea. She’s your birthday present from Carol Gates.” Bob greeted me and said, “I just saw you on TV!” Earlier in the day Carol had asked Bob to watch a national TV broadcast “Fine Living” segment featuring me as ‘the wine country it girl’ (known for painting California vineyards). When Bob watched it earlier in the day, he had no idea I’d soon be standing in his doorway with an easel and blank canvas!

I quickly explained, “Yes - that’s me and I’m here to paint your garden. So let’s see it.” Bob and Linda led me out to view the lush landscape surrounding their home and, as we turned the corner to the side of the house, I noticed that the sky was lighter and the shadows softer than they are in California. I was struck by a vivid crimson Japanese maple and noticed a stone bridge in shadow, a symbolic element.

I choose that spot to paint Bob’s Garden.

I would return to Bob’s home the next day to create the painting, but before taking me to the hotel for the night, Bob and Linda graciously invited me to dinner. We connected easily and immediately.

A highlight of the evening was when Bob paused and thoughtfully said. “Ann, I know how you see the colors you paint. You simply relax and let yourself see them.”

He stated it perfectly. I have learned to relax and savor the colors in every moment . and now I help others experience that same sense of tranquility through my art.

Bob asked me how long I had been painting and I shared my story with him.

After art school, I got married and decided that a creative career just wasn’t practical. I believed that I had to follow a more conventional path, so I worked a hodge-podge of corporate jobs that I didn’t like. It was clear early on that the marriage was not going to work. After a painful and difficult divorce, I fell into a serious episode of depression and chronic anxiety.

As a result, I didn’t paint or draw for a full 7 years.

“You were angry.” Bob said.

“You’re right, I was.” I replied. “I believed that I had no choices.”

“When did you start to paint again?” Bob asked.

The answer to his question was a remarkable sequence of events that eventually led me to his doorstep . all of them due to the Law of Attraction, although I didn’t know it at the time!

It began with a personal development seminar in San Francisco where I met an author who was also attending. I hadn’t painted in 7 years and he had writer’s block, so we related to one another. A week later, back home in Ohio, a good friend urged me to pick up my paintbrush again. She had encouraged me before to no avail - but this time I decided to give it a try. The next day, we sat on a park bench and my emotions welled up as I readied myself to paint for the first time in 7 years. Just then I glanced up and was stunned to see, only ten feet in front of me, the very same writer I had met at the seminar in San Francisco! What were the random chances we’d meet again, just one week and 2000 miles later? I knew the meeting was anything but random.

We chatted for a few moments and I asked him, “Do you still have writer’s block?”

He told me, “Yes I do.” It was at that very moment that I had an instantaneous flash of understanding. As he walked away I realized that he was choosing not to write - just as I had chosen not to paint. It was a matter of choice - and I could change it.

More than seven years of inertia melted away and I began to paint again with a new resolve - and pleasure!

I also created a dream map - a collage of images and words expressing the feelings I had around my dream, including this affirmation: “I live in and work in my very own art studio overlooking the ocean.” Of course, at the time, an ocean view seemed about as likely as the random meeting of my friend with writer’s block!

I now approached painting with a whole new objective: To focus my attention on color and as an active meditation to calm my mind and to help alleviate anxiety.

I began selling my work and found it interesting when collectors told me that the paintings made them feel happy and calm. One collector remarked that my work reminded him of Wayne Theibaud’s artwork. Theibaud is an American art icon. His canvases sell for millions. So, I wrote Wayne and requested a critique. He gave me several critiques. As I read his letter of recommendation I knew I had found my true voice and purpose.

All the while, I continued to work in a corporate job I didn’t like. I met two stage-four breast cancer survivors during that time. One was my very same age and I was struck by the cubicle-sized limits of my own life. Although I didn’t know how, I was all the more determined to seize my dream: “I live in and work in my very own art studio overlooking the ocean.”

One day, I literally woke up and decided: I am done. I quit, sold my house. As I shared this story over dinner with Bob, I said, “By sheer luck, I found a place on the beach in San Francisco overlooking the ocean.

“It wasn’t luck.” Bob immediately responded. “It was your dream map.”

He was exactly right, of course. Remarkably, at the time, I had completely forgotten about it - and yet I had duplicated the pictures on my dream map with inconceivable detail. In fact, my bed is in the very the same position as the picture of the bed overlooking the ocean in my dream map.

After arriving in San Francisco, I began masterminding with friends ways that I could earn a living with my art. My vineyard paintings tended to sell and now I lived close to wine country. I realized that I could help wineries leverage their largest asset, the unique beauty of their vineyards. So I offered to complete a series of original oil portraits of a winery’s vineyards and to sell them the reproductions and accessories at wholesale. In exchange, they help me market the originals and my large scale commissioned paintings at their events. Wine enthusiasts would have a way to take home a piece of the wine country and the wineries gain permanent advertising in their customers’ homes while earning a profit. My model was unique. I started cold calling.

I knew that if I was going to thrive as a painter I would have to become prolific so I enrolled in a biofeedback course at San Francisco State University where I attended a lecture by a prominent neuro-feedback researcher, Dr. Thomas Browne. We discussed the use of this science to enhance creative productivity. I immediately began working with him. Since then, I have created nearly 400 paintings!

After watching The Secret, I recognized how the Law of Attraction had been working in my own life and was inspired to learn more. I discovered that many of the teachers in the movie had studied with Bob Proctor, so I decided I would go right to the mentor of mentors.

I enrolled in his year-long coaching program, and had some questions. I spoke over the phone with Carol Gates for more than an hour and she told me the same thing so many others have said - that my paintings help her feel calm and relaxed. As we talked, she was struck with an idea and asked me if I would paint Bob Proctor’s garden.

We immediately began making plans and it all happened very quickly, as is often the case when we allow ourselves to become emotionally involved with a big idea! It was a bold adventure that I’ll cherish for a lifetime.

Johann Wolfgang von Goethe said, “Whatever you can do, or dream you can, begin it. Boldness has genius, power, and magic in it.“

“Fortune” magazine recently featured my story and quoted me “If there’s something you really want to do, do it now.”

Ann Rea

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